#i just like him better as someone who is own thing and not like...Molly replacement | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercurygray · 1 year

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from the holiday prompt list: midnight and molly (and a side of tab perhaps?) it seems only right i put in my first request since declaring my new fav (sorry, eileen, i still love you) ❤️

Issie, thank you so much for this prompt, as it gave me an excuse to do something I've been meaning to do for a little bit here - a new AU! The War Ended And We Went Home To Other People. (Sadly, however, Floyd does not feature. I think you'll like the new guy, though.)

He would be glad to see the end of 1945.

Andy Haldane had been just this side of alive on New Year's Eve of 1944, doped up on more morphine than a human ought to admit to, but he was alive, if only just. He'd spent most of this year slowly climbing back out of the well of the war, out of this hospital and that rehabilitation ward, slowly moving eastward until his mother and father could come and visit on Sundays, take a walk with him around the garden.

He was ashamed of those Sundays. There wasn't a whole lot left of the son they'd sent to war now - the darling of the gridiron and the college dorm was happy enough to be shuffling along on crutches most days, and counted it a good day if he didn't have to take a nap after lunch. How he'd worked, before the war! His parents had saved so hard to get him to Bowdoin - first in his family to take a degree, to have their picture in the paper. A man who was going to go places, that's what he was - until that sniper made his position on the ridge.

He could remember where he was when they said the war was over - VE day and VJ both. Different hospitals, on different coasts. He couldn't get out of bed on VE day - some of the others jumped out of beds and ran down halls, throwing things out of windows and banging thier bedpans, just to make a racket. VJ day he'd been here, in Boston, with a lot of army types who'd been flown in from Europe to convalesce. It wasn't their war, and somehow that meant it mattered just a little less.

Some of those men were gone now, replaced with different faces and different voices. Different nurses, now, too, different volunteers on the wards. The young USO wives were mostly gone, to houses in the suburbs and returning husbands, probably, and in their place were mothers whose sons had not come home, trying to atone by mothering boys whose own mothers were too busy to come.

Which made her stand out in more ways that one. Young, for starters, but without that innocence that the young wives had all shared, the perfect nylons and dainty handbags and ladies home journal magazine cookies. She came in slacks, some days, with a bookbag that always seemed to be full of journals and notes, but useful things, too - the racing papers and the sports pages and comic books. Jokes, too, in the free and easy way of a girl who has had brothers. "Hey, Mahoney," someone or other would call, and she'd catch for the ball or lob the greeting back, delivering letters and newspapers and news of the world. She was a student, over at the college - a doctoral thesis on something historical. She didn't talk about it much with them - but never looked down on the guys who'd barely finished eighth grade and stumbled through reading the funny pages, either.

Andy wondered, a lot, about why she volunteered - but one day, when the weather had turned colder he watched her pull a fatigue jacket out of her bag and realized she was missing the war because she'd been in it herself.

"You're a woman of a lot of surprises, Miss Mahoney," he said, nodding to the jacket and the faded stripes on her sleeve. "Or was it Sergeant?"

"You sure it isn't my boyfriend's?" She asked, a slight edge to her voice, the syllables wrapped cautiously around the handle of a knife like she might have to slash out with it. How many people had made that accusation before?

"It fits you like you broke it in," he said, and meant it. He'd never had clothes that fit better than the dungarees he'd worn on the canal, sleeping day in and day out in them until the elbows and knees were just so. That was her jacket, lived and suffered in, and anyone who'd worn OD would know it to see it.

She nodded, smiling, and he looked closer, at the patches on the shoulder, the darns and repairs on the collar. "You were a paratrooper." That experimental outfit everyone talked about - with that famous woman. Jean? Jane? He couldn't remember the name.

She nodded. "506th Regiment - Company E. Two combat jumps, one purple heart, three campaign ribbons, combat infantry badge, expert marksman."

As decorations went it was quite a list. "Why did you never say? None of those guys in there know."

She scoffed. "We had a joke, in my unit. How will they know which company we are? Because the girls are Easy." She looked down at her hands, swallowed nervously. "It hit different when you were in a room full of people who knew you. Here, back home, I'm just…someone who didn't know her place - borrowed some other guy's chance at glory." She tried to smile. "Still miss it, though. That's why I come. Here I'm…the kid sister, or the girl down the street. No one questions how I know what I know, and I can…give back, a little. For the guys who didn't make it home."

"I'd like to hear about it, sometime. If you feel like talking."

She nodded, in the way that said she'd think about it, and he let he matter rest. The next week she brought bear claws from a bakery down the street, big and sweet and messy, and they sat in the courtyard eating them and getting thier fingers stuck to flimsy paper napkins. She told him about her brother, a navy man who'd died at Pearl Harbor, and leaving college so she could join the WAC. He talked about Bowdoin, and Parris Island. She talked about the guy she'd had some hopes with, and the news that he'd married a woman in England, that they were having a baby, and he found himself itching to fight. They both talked about food, about boats and being sick as dogs, about being cold and wet and scared. Andy found himself naming names he hadn't said aloud in a long time, stories that were still somehow funny even if they were also sad.

He asked his mother to bring stationary, on her next Sunday visit, to write to Ed's family, and find out what happened to Burgin and Sledge. "Who are you writing to?" she asked, looking hopeful. "A girl?" When he said no, her face fell a little. "You had a look in your eye, is all. Hadn't seen that there for a while."

Well, I'm not writing to her, he wanted to say. But there is a girl. A woman? A someone. Wishful thinking, though. She could do better than a broken down old Marine.

But new years were for new beginnings, weren't they? And he needed all the help he could get. So, here he was, a few minutes to midnight and ready to bid farewell to 1945. The crutches were mostly gone, now, and he did pretty well with his cane. He'd actually taken the time to get dressed for this one - no pajamas and robe for him, no sir. He found her in the dayroom over by the record player, keeping an eye on things while the candy stripers danced patiently with men who were still learning the use of their prosthesis, or braces, or what have you. And she didn't shoo him away, either - glad for the company, or the excuse to keep turning down dances she didn't want to do.

When the clock struck midnight he turned to look - she looked ashamed, almost, like she didn't want to expect anything, awkward in a room full of kissing couples and falling confetti and stray balloons and Guy Lombardo on the radio. "Molly," he said, and when she turned to look at him he kissed her, his nose bumping her own. She'd taken some pains with her hair and it hung in soft honey ringlets around her face, her skin soft with some scent he couldn't name.

For a moment neither of them spoke. "Sorry," he offered, practically shouting to be heard above the noisemakers. "It's been a while since I kissed a pretty girl, I'm a little out of practice."

She was blushing a little, but she didn't look angry, either. That was something, wasn't it? "No apology needed, Captain."

"Molly, it's Andy." You know it's Andy. It's been Andy for weeks now.

She smiled. "Andy. Happy New Year."

He decided to go further. "Maybe another for good luck?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled wider, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Oh, go on then."

He decided 1946 could stay, if it liked.

#i have written a thing #the war ended and we went home with other people #all the alternate universes #molly mahoney #mercurygraypresents

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lunatic-fandom-space · 2 years

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Startin the day right by writing down my notes for Episode 13 of Minecraft Diaries babeyyyyyy

Aphmau wakes up, maybe she wakes up earlier than usual bc her sleep schedule is kinda fucked and immediately goes to check on Brendan. Hes still asleep but looks a lil better than yesterday

Since Im cutting the hamster subplot, Im making it so that Kiki also comes in to check on Brendan and then they have a scene talking together with them comforting eachother. Basically, what I wanna do for now is, I want to keep the mood low and kinda melancholic to signal a tonal shift like "oh no, someone got shot, the plots really beggining to start now" until we get to that little wedding arc, where everyones in a wonderful mood before Zane shows up, so we can have that contrast, yknow what I mean? Bc I feel like the other thing that makes this kinda tiring to watch is that the tone of every episode is pretty exactly the same and pretty upbeat (save for those cutscenes) which again, makes sense as a minecraft RP but still

At some point during their convo Kiki asks to be left alone so Aphmau goes out to see how everyone else is doin and runs into Dale. The beginning of their exchange is the same, although I'd like to tweak that lost paragraph a bit; after he tells her "but I have a son to think about now" he also says "especially with those bandits around", instead of "he wants to be a guard just like me" he says smth like "I cant wait till he gets a bit older and can teach him all about being a guard!"

I cut the part where Aphmau plays matchmaker for him and Molly, so I'll just include Aphmau being like "Oh sorry, I didnt know you had child, congrats!" in response to that, maybe asking who his lucky woman is or smth idk. I'll also probably insert some more (small) scenes w/ Molly into the previous few episodes/chapters to establish her being There and Pregnant, maybe as part of those montage scenes of Aphmau chillin and helping out in the village

After that, she goes to the plaza where Logan n Donna (and some other extras probably) are. I'll cut Donnas dialogue and replace it w/ her just whistfully staring at Logan while hes shooting some arrows. I'll also probably cut Logans dialogue and maybe replace it with him also looking at her/making sure she sees him while doing his cool archery stuff

I think I'll add a montage scene-thingy at this point, but I'll make sure to keep it a bit low energy yknow, maybe Aph doesnt physically help that much and gives more encouraging words instead bc shes exhausted idk

Okay, I'll save her Meowki dying for an even lower point later on, right now we already have Brendan being injured n stuff, the mood doesnt need to dip any more at this point

Aphmau then decides to take a break and sit at the beach, maybe fish a little idk, and sortof think about all this stuff w/ the Lord of Brightport being gone and her basically being the Lord of her own village now

I mentioned in one of my earlier notes posts that I want her backstory to be that shes Irenes child who was sent away for her own safety and whose memory was lost somehow, but I honestly dont want to mention it too much, especially at this point and in the first season. Like, I dont really see the point of Aph ruminating on her past before she randomly woke up in the woods w/ no memories bc I feel like she has amleady found community and friends and stuff like that in this village and ahe doesnt care for much aside from making the people that live there happy, so it wouldnt matter at this point. That being said, I do think this would be a good moment for her to reflect a little on the fact that she doesnt know her past at all

That little scene where Zenix looks to be aiming at Garroth(?!?!) is fine, that can stay exactly the way it is. Maybe we can have a sort of transition here, where Aph is at the beach, looking up at the sunset and then we get to Zenix a bit later, looking up at the night sky before taking lut his bow

Thats itttttttt babey it looks like ahits getting juicier I cant wait

#lunas mcyt shit #my mc/d rewrite

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sunflowerdarlingx · 3 years

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would u write a bill weasley 18+ where the reader lets bill “use” them at the full moon ?

“Innocent angel”

Hi <3 I hope this is okay!

Female Reader

Warnings: fingering, oral (female and male recieving), unprotected sex, mention of male masturbation.

Minors DNI

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The time leading up to each full moon was always different for Bill. He was still getting used to the incredibly difficult change that occurred and, unlike Remus, he still had a lot to experience.

The full moon was in two days, Bill and Y/N were currently making their way into the order headquarters. Bill hadn’t been able to keep his hands off Y/N, from simply holding her hand, to passionate lust filled kisses but he never went any further. This confused Y/N because the two weren’t strangers to sex, especially during the full moon. Usually Bill loved nothing more than filling her with his cum, but now the second things got too heated he would stop and excuse himself.

Usually the 5 days leading up to the full moon would be spent locked away together. Bill would get quite possessive in those five days and would keep Y/N close and remind her who she belonged to.

Y/N went over to speak to Tonks and Remus but Bill pulled her back, “Where do you think you’re going?” he said lowly in her ear.

“Just going to say hi, ask how Remus is with the full moon coming up” she smiled sweetly at Bill, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“No.” his blunt tone shocked Y/N as he pulled her to sit on his lap on one of the kitchen chairs.

“What do you mean no?” she shifted in the seat slightly, her arse grinding over his clothes cock briefly.

“I mean no. You’ll sit here with me and then we will go home. Your scent alone is driving me mad already baby, don’t need the stenches of other people on you.” Bill's arms wrapped around Y/N’s waist anchoring her to his lap.

As the meeting went on Y/N kept shifting her hips so she could look at each order member as they spoke. “Watch it” he hissed in her ear as Mad-eye spoke, Y/N looked at him confused before Bill pressed her hips back slightly, the feeling of his hard cock pressed against her arse.

Her innocent eyes looked back at him, “sorry” she whispered before turning back around. She continued listening, this time only turning her head rather than her whole upper body.

After the meeting ended, Molly served some dinner for everyone. Y/N was still sitting on Bill’s lap, “Y/N dear sit beside Fred, you can’t be comfortable” Molly’s voice rang throughout the small kitchen.

Y/N went to stand up but Bill gave her waist a tight squeeze. “I’m okay Molly, thank you though”, Mrs Weasley shrugged her shoulders and went back to her conversation with Arthur.

Y/N shifted her hips slightly, starting to feel uncomfortable with the way Bill's knee dug into hers. “You’re playing a dangerous game angel” his lips were close to her ear as he pushed her hair over to one side, “careful” he placed an innocent kiss to her neck.

“What if I don’t want to be careful?”, she turned in his lap so both of her legs dangled over the side of his thigh. She watched him carefully as his eyes darkened slightly and a smirk painted his features.

“Time for us to get going” he announced, tearing his eyes away from his girlfriend to say thanks and goodbye to everyone. He kept his hand on her lower back as they walked out of the house and down the street to the alleyway where they could apparate back to their home.

The second their feet landed in their shared home, Bill had Y/N pressed against the wall of their living room while his lips worked feverishly against hers. Y/N’s hands wrapped in his hair, tugging slightly at the hair on the nape of his neck. Bill wrapped one of her legs around his waist and tapped her arse lightly, making her jump up so he could lift her against the wall.

Y/N’s hips rolled against his as muffled moans escaped her mouth into their kiss, the feeling of her against him was driving Bill mad. His hands gripped her arse tightly, he moved to sit on the couch. Y/N’s hips rolled against his, her lips moving to kiss down his neck, Bill's hand came down on her arse “such a tease during the meeting”. A little yelp left Y/N’s lips at the contact before she moved her lips back to his.

This time Bill barely kissed back, his hands moved from her arse to her waist and moved her to sit beside him. Y/N’s eyes went wide as she looked over at Bill, his hair was a mess, lips red and he had this hazy look in his eyes that made Y/N’s panties dampen even more. “What are you doing?” she questioned, trying to pull him close again.

“N..nothing, just forgot I have some stuff to do, I’ll start dinner in a bit”, he kissed her forehead quickly before making his way upstairs.

Y/N sat confused and a little hurt by his actions. She was needy and confused. Her mind started to wander and the thought of Bill not fancying her in that way filled her head. Her insecurities took over every thought she had, a small tear rolled down her cheek but her sadness was soon replaced by anger.

How dare he do this to her. How dare he tease her and act like he wants her, only to drop her.

She stood up, storming up the stairs, ready to confront her fiance about his actions. She got to the top of the stairs and stopped dead in her tracks. She stood outside their door and could hear Bill moaning and grunting to himself.

Her heart dropped, the thought of Bill excusing himself to go and sort himself out whilst thinking of another girl made her feel sick.

So he had found someone better.

“Y/N...fuck”

Her ears perked up at the sound of her name.

“Shit...baby feels so good”

Y/N pushed their door open slightly, Bill had his back to her, his hand pumping his cock while he moaned and groaned her name.

“So what? Fucking your hand is better than fucking your own girlfriend!” she shouted a lot louder than she intended to. Bill jumped slightly at the sound, making quick work of putting his cock back in his pants.

“Fuck Y/N, it’s not like that, I promise” he quickly moved over to her and tried to pull her in for a hug.

“No Bill, what the fuck was that? All you do now is start something up between us and then fuck off! Constant teasing and touches but nothing more! Is that what you've been doing the last few nights? Leaving me to go and wank?”

He nodded his head and looked at the floor, “why would you do that Bill? D..do you not enjoy having sex with me anymore?” her voice was a lot lower now as she looked at him, desperate to understand the situation.

“The full moon is close, day after tomorrow” his statement made Y/N scoff.

“Yeah no shit sherlock, but what’s that got to do with it? Normally you can’t get enough of me, especially at the full moon but now it’s like the thought of sex repulses you!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled.

“Hurt me? When have you ever hurt me during sex?” she walked over to him and made him look at her.

“Full moon is different. You’re too innocent, my little angel, don’t wanna hurt you. All I can think about is fucking you, ruining you, wrecking that tight littl cunt with my cock. You yelped at the feeling of me smacking your arse, if I had my way, I’d go even harder”.

A laugh left the girls mouth, “you're joking right?”.

Bill looked at her and shook his head, “I don’t want to hurt you”.

“Bill, just because I let out a little yelp doesn’t mean it hurt, i just got a surprise, trust me you’d know if you hurt me” she took his hand in hers and led him to the bed, “we have a safe word and signal for a reason”.

She pushed him down onto the bed straddled his waist again, “just want to make you feel good” she started to kiss his neck, sucking the spot below his ear, earning a low groan. “‘M all yours” she kissed up his jaw “Do whatever you want to me” her lips met his in a short kiss “I trust you Bill”.

Bill wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a messy passionate kiss, “promise you’ll tell me to stop if it gets too much?” he mumbled into their kiss before pulling back to take her shirt off.

“Promise” her hands went behind her to take off her bra and Bill slid his shirt over his head. He turned them over so she lay on the bed, his lips went straight to her neck, sucking and nipping at her skin until it was decorated with purple little splotches.

His lips latched on to suck at her nipples, his tongue teasing while his hand rolled the other between his fingertips. “Mhmm Bill” Y/Ns hands ran through his hair, chest arching slightly at the contact. He peppered kisses down her stomach and stopped above the waistband of her leggings. He ripped them off along with her underwear, “fuck baby, look so pretty for me”.

He licked from her slit to her clit, mouth latching on to the small bundle of nerves, sucking it while his fingers teased her entrance. Loud moans filled the room as Y/n’s hips bucked, her hands tangled in Bill’s hair to pull him closer. He slipped two fingers into her dripping cunt, curling them slightly, as his other hand came to her waist to hold her against the mattress.

“Fuck Bill, ‘m close” she whined, her walls clenched around his fingers as they worked faster inside her, “Cum” he demanded. The coil inside Y/N snapped and she came over his fingers, Bill lapped at her pussy, cleaning up every drop before inserting his fingers in her again.

“Ah...shit Bill” her eyes rolled back, the feeling of his fingers in her cunt being a bit too much but pleasure soon took over and her second orgasm hit her like lightning, her whole body shaking as the waves of pleasure pulsated through her body.

Bill still made no effort to move away from her, this time his tongue made its way to her entrance, tongue driving in and out like his life depended on it. Y/Ns hands tried to push his head away but he grabbed both of her hands and held them against her waist. He looked up at her through hooded eyelids, all he wanted to do was taste her, her head was thrown back against their pillows, mouth open while pleading moans to cum left her mouth. His thumb came to rub her clit and she felt as though her body was on fire, her juices squirting against him, a smirk grew on his face as he pulled back to watch her walls clench around air.

“Such a good girl” he cooed before standing up. Y/Ns chest heaved as she calmed down, her legs feeling numb from her three orgasms. His hands wrapped around her ankles and pulled her to the end of the bed, “on your knees”.

He pulled down his trousers and watched as Y/N lowered onto the floor, a small whimper leaving her mouth at the feeling in her legs. “Open up angel” he wrapped his hands around her hair and yanked her head back, she parted her lips and placed her hands on his thighs.

Bill guided his tip into her mouth, starting to thrust his hips forward so it reached the back of her throat. Y/N gagged slightly but pulled Bill towards her as encouragement to keep going. His hips bucked as he started to fuck her mouth, his cock disappearing between her pretty lips. Her eyes watered while spit coated her chin and cheeks. “Take my cock so fucking good” Bill groweled while he held his cock deep in her mouth. Her nose rested at the base, tears streamed down her face while her fingers gripped onto her thighs.

Bill pulled his hips back, giving her a moment to catch her breath before thrusting his cock back in. Her jaw went slack as Bill took full control of her mouth. “Gonna cum angel” his warning was short as his cum coated her throat. She swallowed it all, eyes looking up at him through her lashes. The look had his cock solid again in a heartbeat.

He lifted her back onto the bed and flipped her onto her stomach, his cock was still coated in her saliva, he ran the tip up her slit before thrusting inside her.

His hands came to her waist, holding her up while he set an animalistic pace. She could feel the bruises forming in the moment, his tight grip felt incredible. She screamed his name while her hands gripped the sheets, “feels so good” she whined. Her body jolted with each thrust, the speed and depth of his thrusts bringing her closer to her high. He could feel her tight cunt pulsate around him.

“Gonna cum for me again angel? All over my cock”

“Fuck yes” she screamed, cumming again for the fourth time. Her body went limp, unable to provide herself with any support. His hips slowed but needy begs for more left her mouth.

“Such a needy thing” he smirked, pulling her body to his while he fucked her. Bill felt himself getting close, Y/N was quick to reach her high again, her pussy sensitive from her prior orgasms. His thumb rubbed lazily on her clit. Tears streamed down her face from the pleasure, her body shaking against him as she came, Bills cum filling her up.

He lay her gently on the bed, quickly casting a cleaning charm. He lay in bed beside her and pulled her close, “was that okay?” his hand combed through her hair.

“You’ve been holding back on me Mr Weasley” she teased “I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had”. A small laugh escaped his lips as he placed a loving kiss to her forehead.

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Masterlist

#bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley smut

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saphirered · 3 years

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Saph I hope you feel better! I really liked the VM Snow White you just posted, but could you also please do the same prompt but with M9 boys including Molly? If you’re not feeling up to it that’s fine too!

Thank you! The meds are beginning to do their job luckily. I'm glad you liked the last one. I blinked, my hand slipped and now it's here. Prepare for some angst. Hope you enjoy! 😘

(Caleb)

Caleb had always known his past would come to haunt him. He was prepared for it. Prepared to take the hit, take responsibility for everything and he’d face his past be that with or without the people he loves. Part of him, once he got used to having these fools around, having you around, wanted it to be on his own, to protect them and protect you. To not have any more lives lost in the grand scheme. The people he loves becoming collateral would be unacceptable. But you had become collateral in the grand scheme of things.

When it became clear to his enemies he was a bit more attached to you than the others, they took this weakness and exploited it. They pushed his buttons before, using you as a tool, verbal bait even, but he never fell for it. His reluctancy to act on his feelings, to keep them to himself instead, were the very thing he hoped would keep those loose ends from latching onto you. His love is a curse, the objects of his desire always to be torn away from him no matter how hard he tries to prevent it. He’s lost you to that same curse. Not lost. Almost lost.

You’ve been cursed, your conscious mind separated from your unconscious body. Simple healing spells wouldn’t do the trick here. This curse holds no roots in the divine. He’s spent days researching and that much he could confirm. This curse would take an arcane approach. Something he prides himself in to be his specialty. Lucky you. Lucky him. He had the others bring all books, ancient scrolls and other sources of knowledge brought to him, along with a wide variety of components once he’d made a significant dent in the research matter, assuring him this would have the greatest chances of success.

It’s not the soft canopy bed with the plush pillows from the fairytales you’re placed on. Instead you lay on a wooden table, inscribed with all sorts of arcane sigils. Nor do you look like some angelic peaceful being. Your brow is furrowed in discomfort, your hands balled into fists at your sides. Caleb moves a brush against areas of exposed skin, painting symbols to match with precision and care, afraid to even make a single mistake, triple checking every mark. He speaks the incantations while incorporating the components varying from precious gems crushed and whole, herbs and incense. And then he waits. He doesn’t expect the effects to be immediate, often with these magics it is not and he knows that but that doesn’t get rid of the impatience and fear.

“How I long to hear your voice again. I know this will work but that doesn’t ease away the sliver of doubt. What if… What if… That’s what I keep asking myself. I know it’s stupid.” Caleb wipes an hand over his brow as he pulls up a chair and sits at your side, elbows leaning on the table careful to avoid any sigils just in case.

“It also faced me with the harsh reality that I held off telling you how I feel. It looks so stupid now in hindsight because what good did it do anyone. In the end you still ended up paying for my mistakes. I was stupid to push you away, try to convince you your own feelings were unreciprocated. I know I didn’t have you fooled in the slightest but to know I could have loved you, it makes me feel like I am to blame for wasting that opportunity and possibly shortening our time together. The thought of losing you before having given you my love will forever be my greatest regret.”

Caleb watches the muscle of your hand unclench and relax. He hears a deep intake of breath and staring at your face he’s met with your smile, one filled with love as he helps you sit up. All is good once more.

(Fjord)

Fjord’s drenched to the bone, out of breath, anger running through him like he’s never experienced. Still he’s unsure if his anger is directed at the one responsible for your eternal slumber or at himself for making a ballsy move that didn’t pay off in the slightest and in fact backfired in a worse way he could have ever imagined. He played a game of chicken with Uk’otoa and lost. He’d have been fine by letting someone else pay the price for him. Why should he care about some stranger becoming victim to the leviathan? The one who paid the price, became the victim to his actions didn’t end up being a stranger. It had to be you of all people hadn’t it?

Uk’otoa must have been watching his dreams, even his waking actions if that were possible and have seen his infatuation with you. When the leviathan threatened Fjord in another briny dream of his mentioning your name he had called bullshit. The snake had never been able to reach out to anyone it didn’t already have some kind of grasp on. Little did he know Uk’otoa had just that. Just enough of a sliver through him, and the Cloven Crystal to get to you.

So there Fjord sits at your bedside. You’re just as drenched as he is, hair dripping, skin glowing in the candle light of the room reflected off the water particles. Your lips are tinted blue, a redness around your eyes, your skin is cold. The sleep you’re in is a state of perpetual drowning and Fjord knows what it feels like, to drown. He can only hope you’re spared that pain. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forgive himself if you are tortured like so because of his actions. Clasping your hand between both of his he runs his fingers over your knuckles. He bows his head. It still feels so wrong to not have you respond to his touch. So wrong.

“I want you to know that I am to blame for your fate. I’m about to do a very stupid thing to make it right. I know you’d tell me not to but I can’t sit by and watch you suffer like this. I’ve tried everything. I’ve begged and bargained. I’ve shouted at the skies but I got no reply. Everything comes up empty and I see no other choice than to do this. It might sound stupid but I came to ask for your forgiveness.” Fjord pauses. Usually he would have gotten a reply. He would sell his soul for just having you tell him everything will be alright. It’s a good thing he’s about to sell it for so much more than that. It’s worth it. It’s worth having you alive and well.

“I won’t ask for forgiveness for what I’m about to do because I will never regret it. I ask only you may one day forgive me for what I might become. I need you to know I love you and did, will do all of this out of love. That’s why I hope you’ll never see me again after I give myself to Uk’otoa. I can’t bare to watch that affection in your eyes being replaced by hatred, but most of all disappointment. I hoped to be worthy of your love and I will always regret never having truly experienced it.” Fjord’s voice cracks slightly. He studies your face, as if to ingrain every detail into his memory, as if he thinks he might never see it again.

“I’m afraid. I’m so deadly afraid.” Fjord whimpers pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before he lets go. He checks his supplies, taking out the Cloven Crystal, glaring at the orb intensely cursing the thing to oblivion. Coughs pull him out of his staring match with the crystal. Your body moves, leaning over the edge of the bed vomiting up brine. Fjord drops the orb and his belongings running over to you and helping you gather your bearings until you’re no longer chocking on sea water.

“You better not do what I think you’re planning with that orb or so help me Storm Lord, I will drown you myself.” Fjord can’t do anything but laugh despite the very real threat on his life as you pull him into your embrace.

(Caduceus)

Caduceus isn’t bothered by death. Death is part of life as much as living is. It’s inevitable. Every soul will move on, leaving its vessel for the earth, the fire or the wild things to bring forth something new. What does very much bother him are perversions of death, those who try to cheat death, upset the natural balance, maim and manipulate that what is and should be. He hates it with a passion and seeks to rectify it, return the world to that balance when faced with it. That’s where you come in. You much like him have a respect and understanding of life and death similar to his own. Very few people understand that. Very few people do not fear the end when they see it coming. You’re one of those very few people.

You understand Caduceus on a different level, in his sentiment and mannerisms while others may think him strange. Not that he cares if people do, you’ve been his filter in the big shiny new world past the borders of his grove. You’ve been his safety net, his grounding force, his safe haven when the world seems against him and he thinks his senses might be wrong. The Wild Mother must have gently blown her winds to bring you together.

That’s why it seems so wrong you’re affected by this darkness having taken hold over your body, leaving you in a state of not entirely alive nor dead. Resurrection has been futile as much as draining your life and allowing you to move to the care of the Wild Mother herself. You’re trapped and that’s why Caduceus fears what would happen should you die. He’s seen what this perversion of life and death has done to his home, the forests surrounding it and the creatures living in it. He’ll do everything in his power to prevent that from happening to you.

Caduceus has put your body through the typical burial rites and rituals, preserving what he can by using wards and the divine blessings granted to him by his goddess, sending her prayers of your recovery but you appear to be even beyond her reach now. He moves a damp cloth across your arms and face, brushing aside your hair, humming to himself until he’s done, moving on to clean the room around you, getting rid of the dust, placing things back where they belong and replacing the decayed flowers with fresh ones. Caduceus gathers his tea, preparing a cup for himself as he watches you.

“Can you show me how they’re doing?” The wind grows cold. He knew that would be the answer but still he could hope maybe that answer could change.

“Are they in pain?” The wind grows warm but then cold again. You were, but not anymore. It seems that the new wards he’s put up are doing their job. That’s good.

“Is there a cure?” The gentle breeze disappears. She doesn’t know then. This goes even beyond the goddess herself but it doesn’t mean it’s impossible. Caduceus will keep hope, though it is dwindling fast, for your sake he’ll have hope. He’s always spoken to the dead before and while you’re not really dead, there’s a strange comfort to something that feels so final.

“Hey. I’d ask you how you’re doing but that’s not gonna work now, is it? Don’t worry. You’re going to be fine. I know you are. You’ve managed to keep me alive with the others for much longer than I’ve been taking care of you like this. I think we’re going to be fine. I know you’re here but I still miss you. Calliope makes for terrible company watching things unfurl between the others. She’s too much of a hopeless romantic. You forgot to tell me the recipe to that special brew of yours. I’ve been trying to recreate it but I haven’t been able to. I think what I’m trying to say is, I could really do with having my best friend back. That’d be nice.”

Caduceus sips his tea, face devoid of his usual dopy smile. A sudden breeze hits through the window, blowing it open. A few lighter weight and loose items go flying but the thud of a heavier one is clear to hear. Caduceus closes the window and feels something solid hit his boot. It’s a crystal from the ones surrounding the grove. He picks it up, feeling the warmth run through it. The breeze directs towards you and he feels himself walking over to your body. The crystal calls to you and when it touches you your body runs with energy, pulsing, like you’ve been forcibly pulled back to this world. You look around eyes wide breathing heavy.

“Hey.” Caduceus smiles. “I made tea.”

(Mollymauk)

Maybe pretending you and him were some high born assholes was a questionable decision. Taking on an invite directed at the said people you were impersonating even more so, and stealing, sorry, borrowing without asking, some things from their summer cottage to swim in luxuries, an out right terrible idea when these people happen to be very well connected.

So when these fancy folk came back to the cottage earlier than expected, the two of you had grabbed what you could before making your grand escape, chased by their private guards until you lost them. A safe distance away you set up camp. Time to inspect your findings before returning to the carnival. Your eye for valuables had always been much more keen than Molly’s and your appraisals usually spot on. It was only natural he would let you do your thing but he’d still help you.

Particularly proud of getting some ornate jewellery box Molly had pried it open and revealed the jackpot. But of course you couldn’t just sell recognisable jewellery as is and you couldn’t keep such a thing on you very long. So of course you went to work, prying the stones from their settings. A particular necklace was giving you trouble, not even your tools being able to pry it out, you even broke one so you left that one for last.

The two of you had argued, eventually setting on just smashing the stone with the pommel of Molly’s scimitar, the broken gem still providing plenty of pay and not being as recognisable in peaces. So you held the necklace across a stone while he smashed it. When it did a spark hit, next thing he knew you were on the ground, your hands burned where you held the precious metal. At first he thought you were simply knocked out but when you didn't wake up he grew worried. Splashing water in your face, shaking you, lifting your legs, nothing got you to wake up so instead he carried you and the jewellery back to the carnival. Two days and still you didn’t wake up. It became clear this bloody gem was cursed when dark veins started crawling up your skin as the days passed.

Since this was technically on him, Molly took care of you. He makes quite a doting nurse when he wants to be but never without an inappropriate comment or two. It was quite strange to not hear you laugh at or scold him for these comments. Nevertheless he’d fluff up the pillow beneath your head, provide you an extra blanket when the night was cold, tell you stories, or simply the events of the day, the people who came to the carnival, some things he lifted from people’s pockets and so on. Molly has to say he’s ashamed to admit he’d got frustrated with your unresponsiveness or rather the fact you still hadn’t woken up and there was nothing the others could do for you. A healer would still be a week or so out.

“You know, while I’ve really begun getting used to these little one-sided conversations and your lack of judgement at some of my more terrible decisions I really prefer sharing them with you in the moment. I’ve gotten caught by the guards twice now and without you, Gustav is getting a bit sick of bailing me out. I miss our little flirtations. I miss your sometimes wrong opinions, though you’d say they’re proven facts. I miss your company. I think our time apart has given me time to reflect how much you truly mean to me and how much I need you in my life.” Molly leans on his elbow as he studies your face unmoving. You look so peaceful and asleep but he’d much rather get lost in your eyes when you’re awake.

“I laughed at you when you told me the most valuable thing in the world anyone could ever give another is their heart but I think I know what that means now. I’ll offer you mine if you will have it. So please, come back and make sure my head doesn’t get up too high into the clouds or I might just float away.” Molly leans back looking at the ceiling of the tent with a sigh. He’s pulled out of his mind by a snicker.

“A dramatic confession of love to the unconscious target of your affections? And you call me cliche.” Molly looks at your face, eyes still closed but smug grin clear on your face. He pokes your side making you jump.

“You are insufferable.”

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb widogast x reader #caleb x reader #fjord x reader #caduceus x reader #mollymauk x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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thestarrynightslover · 3 years

Text

He has a thing for the mice

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,514

Warnings: Slight angst.

Summary: (y/n) works as a tech consultant at Intelligence and, even though the team guarantees her that she is one of them, Jay doesn’t seem to agree with that.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So… I finally managed to finish a WIP!! But I do have faith that it will be better from now on. Thanks for all the mind-blowing support, and feedback is appreciated, as usual! 💕

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

It had been six months since you first started working with the Intelligence Unit 𑁋 in the CPD 𑁋, as a tech consultant. At first, it was obvious that you weren’t very welcome there. All the officers just kept side-eyeing you all day long. Every single day. It was like they were expecting some big betrayal from you at any given moment and simply couldn’t risk sleeping with one eye open.

As time passed, though, they started warming up to you. And you, to them. You began to understand that, them being such a tight group, they had a hard time trusting outsiders. Also, that they’d already lost a handful of team members, for one reason or another, so it was plausible that they wouldn’t wanna get attached to someone new right away. And, you’d learnt that the last person who had that job, long before you even considered moving to Chicago, was detective Halstead’s best friend, who had gone back to risking his life for the army overseas.

That’s also how you accepted that, if he was ever going to warm up to you 𑁋 like the others had 𑁋, he’d do it on his own time. No point in pressuring him. Even though sometimes you really wanted to do so, you wanted him to like you. But not just because you two worked together and that would make for a good environment. You wanted him to like you because he was so kind. Caring. Funny. Smart. Cute. And you wanted that kind of guy to like you the same way you were realizing you liked him.

But, if you were being reasonable, it wasn’t about to happen any time soon. Nor should it happen, really. Over that half-year that had passed, you’d also learnt that that job was actually pretty cool. You were using your abilities for something truly good, for once. So, if Jay Halstead ever came to like you the same way you liked him… Whatever the two of you decided to do with that information could really jeopardize your spot there.

Not that you were a cop, you knew you weren’t. But, on your very first day, the sergeant had made it pretty clear that his rules, all of them, applied to you just as much as they did to everyone else.

What started to threaten that certainty you had was the way the detective talked to you on that morning: “Hey, uh, (y/n),” he started saying while walking over to your desk, “could you try and see if you can get any hidden information on our suspect? You know, that little magic you work out?” Jay finished his question with an amused look on his face: raised brows, twinkling eyes, a small smile on his lips. As cute as he looked, that whole behavior made you very confused. Was Jay Halstead really being friendly with you? That mere possibility was enough to send your mind into a spiral of thoughts, which made the detective start calling out for you. “(y/n)?” He questioned, already panicking a little, afraid that you were ignoring him on purpose. Of course, that didn’t make any sense but he always got super nervous when you were around, which was why he tried to keep you at a safe distance. “(y/n)?”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” You couldn’t believe yourself at that moment. What were you? A teenager? “I’m so so sorry, detective! I just, uh… Got a little distracted. Could y- you repeat?” You weren’t looking in a mirror then but you knew for a fact that you were blushing. Hard.

“Ah, no worries. And please, call me Jay.” He told you, making your heartbeat race even faster. “Uh, I asked you if you could get any hidden information on our suspect? You know, that stuff us, cops, usually let slide…”

“Ah, right! Yeah, yeah! Sure, thing, detec- Jay.” You said, making him chuckle a little bit. So cute. You motioned towards the other monitor, to do what you were asked, but suddenly stopped yourself as you felt eyes on you. “Can I, uh, help you with anything else?” You asked Jay, who was just standing there staring at you.

“Oh! No, no! Thanks!” He quickly answered, looking like he was trying to decide whether or not he should keep talking. "It's just that you, um, you reminded me of Mouse a little bit."

"Um… Is that your friend? The one who used to work here?" You shyly ask, not knowing if it was a good idea to pry like that.

"Yeah! That's right. So, I assume someone here has told you about him?"

"Yes, they mentioned a few things. Said he was great. Now I'm just… Trying to live up to the standard." You confessed, suddenly remembering that that was Jay's best friend you were talking about. So, in order to correct your previous statement, you started rambling and ended up only burying yourself deeper: "I mean, not live up as in replace him or anything. More like be as good as. For the team. You know because we need to-"

"Hey, hey," he called out, laughing and raising his hands in front of his chest. "Relax. It's okay. I understood what you were trying to say. Besides, as a replacement to Mouse, you’re not bad at all.” The detective finished his reassurance with a wink, leaving an astonished version of you behind.

It was only much later on that day that you decided to just shrug off any mixed signals you might’ve been exchanging with Jay. Adam and the ladies had made it clear that you were all invited for a mandatory night out at Molly’s. Which meant you and the group were going there straight from the district, you being absolutely determined to drink your feelings 𑁋 and your day, really 𑁋 away. So that’s what you did and, considering that you didn’t have too much alcohol resistance… It was safe to say that things started to get pretty blurry pretty fast.

Before you could stop yourself, you were dancing and chatting with every guy that showed up in front of you and wasn’t a certain good-looking detective. All of which wasn’t going by unnoticed on Jay’s end. He could tell you were avoiding him, he just had no idea why. It seemed to him like you two could get along fine 𑁋 not that he didn’t want it to be more than just fine 𑁋, he wanted a lot more than that but, after all he’d been through, he simply wasn’t sure he should make a move. And now… He really wasn’t sure.

That was until he spotted you struggling with a guy that seemed to be getting a little too handsy for your comfort. It was beginning to cause a scene but most of the familiar crowd was either gone or too distracted to help you.

“Hey, do we have a problem here, buddy?” You jumped a little as you felt Jay’s warm hand in the small of your back. He had a smug smirk on his face and his voice was filled with condescendence as he eyed up the guy you’d been trying to get rid of for the past minutes.

“Uh… Who the hell are you?”

“None of your business. Now, why don’t you just walk away from her, huh?”

“Well, I don’t see how this is any of your business.” The guy replied, maintaining his asshole stance.

“Well, the minute you started sexually harassing this woman you made it my business,” Jay said, lifting the side of his shirt just enough so that the dickhead could see his badge.

“Wow- relax, man! That’s not what was happening here! Besides she didn’t even accuse me of any-”

“Yeah? So, if you wanna keep it that way, I suggest you start walking away.” Hearing that, the guy just stood there, as if not believing the detective. “Now.” And that was the cue the idiot finally took to leave you alone.

“Thank you, Jay. Really.” You started saying after you turned to face him. “But you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve handled it.” You didn’t mean to sound rude or anything, it was just the truth.

“Oh, you could have? Because, from where I was standing, you were in trouble.”

“In trouble?” You ask him in disbelief. “I wasn’t in trouble. Just because I’m not a cop, doesn’t mean that I can’t defend myself, detective.” Hearing that, he seemed to realize what he’d just said.

“I- I’m sorry.” His eyes were so filled with worry at that moment that you couldn’t keep looking directly at him. But he just searched for your eyes until you gave in. “I’m sorry, (y/n). I really am. I didn’t mean that, I don’t think that. At all! I just-”

“You just wanted to help.” You finished his sentence whilst stifling a yawn with the back of your hand. “I get it, Jay. I do, don’t worry. I’m just really tired now. Think I’mma head home.”

“Right.” He muttered, still concerned about how you were leaving things with each other. “So, how about I take you home, hum?” He offered with a peace-making grin on his face, which you eyed suspiciously. “And all I’m really offering here is a cab paid for, I promise! Besides, I think I should get going too, so if we split… You know, at this time o' night, it's cheaper and safer. For both of us.” You were so tired at the moment that there didn’t seem to be any energy left in your body for bickering over a stupid cab.

"Okay, then, let's split the cab." You finally agree, making his smile grow even bigger. So you two make your way outside, where you get on the first available cab you can find. Jay, obviously, making you give the driver your address for the first stop. Which you weren’t so reluctant in agreeing with, to tell the truth. But you hadn’t imagined that, on the way to your apartment, you’d end up falling asleep with your head on the detective’s shoulder, him caressing your hair.

After a few minutes in the car, you were completely knocked out, which made him take it upon himself to struggle with you and your purse to make sure you got safely carried inside your house. Being the smart, resourceful person he is, Jay manages to pay the driver, get you both inside and gently put you in bed. The only thing was that, at that point, he was so tired that, somehow, he ended up climbing in there and falling asleep by your side.

The next morning, when you wake up, you turn your back to meet Jay's gorgeous sleepy face and, thinking that you were just in a very good dream, you start kissing him, who responds by kissing you back. Until you realize that it is actually happening.

"Wait a second, are you real?" You ask him, already feeling the embarrassment reach your cheeks.

"Uh, yeah, I think so? I mean, last time I checked..." Hearing that, you can’t help but start to panic a little. Watching you looking down at your fully clothed bodies and just becoming more confused, Jay decided to explain: "Oh, no! Don't worry about it! Nothing happened between us, until now anyway..." Seeing your horrified face, he added: "I just brought you home but, since you fell asleep in the cab, I brought you inside. And I guess I must've been so beat that I ended up falling asleep here, too. But I should have found a way to go home, I'm sorry." He finished the story, shooting you an apologetic look.

"No, no, that's okay... You were helping me and it was super late. It was only fair that you'd stay here. I'm the one who's sorry about, um, kissing you. I guess... I just thought that I was still dreaming." The second the words leave your mouth, you regret it, as he just smirks at you, eyes twinkling.

"So, you dream about me a lot, do ya?"

"No, I don't. That is not what I said. That is not what I said at all."

"No?" He playfully asks you, who quickly gets out of the bed. "Okay, maybe not... But it was implied."

"No, it wasn't." You say, not missing how he was crawling on the bed, towards where you were standing up.

"It was so implied." He continued teasing, already out of the bed and walking in your direction.

"That's- that's not even a thing. So implied." You ramble a little, feeling your body press against your bedroom wall because of all your walking backwards to get away from him.

"You know what? That doesn't really matter. Because," he was so close to you, and you didn't have any more room for an escape. Was he always that hot? The answer was an emphatic yes and you knew it. You'd spent so much time thinking about what those strong arms could do to you... "It was clearly implied." And that's when he kisses you. Roughly. Sweetly. Passionately. All in once. How was that even possible? There was a reason why you didn't want him to kiss you, you knew there was. But how could you remember it, when all you could think was: oh my God, oh my God, oh my God?

"No, Jay-" You managed to breathe out, his mouth pressing hot, wet, kisses to your neck. "We can't do this." You said a bit more firmly, pushing him from you a little.

"Why not? Is it because we work together? If it is, you should know that a lot of people have done it before. Besides, you're not a cop. So our relationship wouldn't put each other's lives in any danger." You kept your eyes on the floor, as you couldn't bring yourself to look at him just yet. But, hearing him say that... 'Our relationship'... Made you smile and look up at him. "Just- just give me a chance, that's all I'm asking for. One chance to prove to you that, not only we can do this, but, also, that we should do this.

"Okay... One chance." He kisses you right on the spot, as soon as you say that. "Okay! That was not what I meant when I said I’d give you a chance!"

"Of course not! Besides, that's definitely not how I'm using my chance. I'll present my plan to conquer you tomorrow night, at eight o'clock."

"Oh, so you're already willing to decide things for me? Just like that?" His smile was beaming so brightly at the moment, that it could have blinded you.

"Yeah, just like that. Cause I know we’ll have plenty of time for you to be the boss of me." Jay states, not even giving you any time to giggle, as he starts kissing you again. Only pausing to say: "But, for now..." And you can't even pretend to want him to stop kissing you anymore.

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kohanayaki · 3 years

Text

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 4

Snape looks back on your days at Hogwarts, how your friendship came to be, and how it came to end.

LINKS: CH 1 CH 2 CH 3 CH 4 CH 5 CH 6 CH 7 CH 8

___________________________________________________________

Ch 4 .:Budding Feelings and the Beginning of the End:.

Severus Snape had made a lot of mistakes in his life, and seeing you again after all these years was forcing him to relive every single one of them.

He stared blankly at the wall in front of him, shrouded in the darkness and grim silence of his empty house. He never thought he'd see you again, and certainly not under these circumstances. When he'd laid his eyes on you in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place he couldn't believe it. He, much like the rest of the Order (except for Molly, apparently) assumed you wouldn't be at these meetings any longer. After James and Lily were murdered and Sirius was thrown into Azkaban, you'd left London and headed to New York under the Ministry's alliance with MACUSA, hoping to help bridge the gap between muggle-borns and purebloods in America. He knew you had been back to meet Harry a handful of times, but he also knew that being in this city brought up painful memories for you, so he was as stunned as anyone else to see you standing there in the doorway, greeting them as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

He could see that traveling had been good for you. He'd heard through the Hogwarts circuit that you were back on auror duty across the world, taking special assignments from Dumbledore and the Minister for Magic himself. You seemed like you were doing better, but when you turned to smile at him he could see the hesitation and the sadness that brewed behind your eyes, likely his doing.

He desperately wanted things to go back to what they were before—

Before he'd ruined it. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 1974 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright students,” Professor Slughorn said as everyone finished filing inside the room, “today we're going to be pairing off into new partners for the upcoming project.”

Groans and nervous chatter flooded the sound space immediately, no one very thrilled with having to work with someone new out of their control. You cast a glance over to Lily who looked equally displeased. You liked being her partner, you both excelled at the subject and worked really well together.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Slughorn said, waving the complaints off, “However, I am going to be giving you the luxury of choosing your own partners this time, but everyone—”

The energy in the room instantly shifted, everyone shoving around people to get to their friends.

“—keep in mind, if I see any slacking off or trouble brewing in these new partnerships I will not hesitate to rearrange them!”

Slughorns's words were completely lost among the commotion as people paired off before you could even get your bearings. Snape stalled as he stared at you from across the room; Lily had already been dragged away by Mary, and his brain was trying to work out how to ask you to be his partner.

Suddenly an arm was slung over your shoulder and you turned towards the new presence in surprise. You looked up to see Evan Rosier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his Slytherin tie loose around his neck.

Oh, sod it, Snape cursed internally. He was too late.

“Wanna partner up?” Rosier asked, a crooked grin gracing his chiseled features, “It'd be my honor to have the smartest Potions partner in class, not to mention the most attractive.”

You rolled your eyes at the praise. Evan was your friend, and he was nice to look at, but if he thought that you would be willing to do all the work for the both of you in exchange for some cheap compliments, then he had another thing coming. You locked eyes with Snape from across the room

“It would be your honor,” you smirked up at Rosier, “but I already have a partner, sorry.”

It took Snape a few seconds to realize what you were doing, but once he snapped out of it he made his way towards you. You almost chuckled at how robotic he looked as he did, clearly shocked.

Rosier looked between the two of you and rolled his eyes.

“Suit yourself, sweetheart,” he said, letting you go and pushing you lightly in Snape's direction, “but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” He sent a wink your way that left Snape's blood inexplicably boiling,

“Thanks for that,” you grinned, “and just so you know, I would have chosen you even if he didn't come up to me, so don't get all pouty about it, okay?”

Severus just looked at you blankly. Even after four years it was frightening how well you were able to read him; for a moment he was scared that he'd accidentally projected his thoughts to you, but he wasn't anywhere near that level of legillemency yet. He wanted to say something that had some semblance of gratitude but settled on:

“Whatever.”

To which you just laughed and dragged him to your now shared desk.

You really were something else.

“Now then,” Professor Slughorn addressed the room, “today we will be beginning the new unit on toxic concoctions, starting with the Draught of Living Death. If you would all turn to page ten of your books, we will get started presently.”

You turned open your book and Severus did the same. As he did, you noticed that nearly every page was covered in small notes littering the margins, with some of the instructions circled, crossed out, or modified. You were hardly surprised, Snape had been pouring over this book since last year when he'd stolen it from a fifth year Slytherin who'd been speaking poorly of you (that last part you were unaware of).

You turned your attention to the directions, reaching over to preheat the burner so your cauldron would be hot enough by the time you began. However, as soon as you lit the flame with the tip of your wand, your cauldron shot up into the air, hitting the ceiling with a loud BANG! before crashing down back onto your table, breaking several of the glass instruments that were settled there.

Your face burned embarrassment as everyone in the room turned to look at you in shock.

“Snape, (L/n),” Slughorn said, surprised, “whatever happened?”

“I. . .” you began, not knowing what to say, “I don't know, I'm sorry, Professor.”

“Quite all right,” he said uncertainly, restoring your table and equipment with a wave of his wand, “just be sure whatever that was doesn't happen again.”

“Of course,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the snickering around you. If you noticed the way that it stopped as soon as Snape sent a deathly glare at the culprits, you didn't show it. You reached down to grab your cauldron, noticing that the bottom was dusted in some sort of orange powder. As you turned it over, a note fell out of it.

You're welcome, (L/n). Sorry I couldn't be there for the fireworks~

J.P.

“That sneaky little, ugh,” you crumpled the note, growling in frustration.

“What is it?” Severus asked, peering over your shoulder to glance at the paper. However, as soon as you tried to show it to him it vanished in your hands in a wisp of glowing embers. You turned to look at Severus who was still staring at you expectantly.

“It was Potter,” you rolled your eyes.

Anger flashed in Severus' eyes before confusion replaced it momentarily.

“But that was your cauldron, not mine. Why would Potter want to mess with you?”

And now the anger was back again. Snape was used to Potter’s crew targeting him; bullying and suffering through minor hexes had become an everyday occurrence, but when he imagined them doing anything to you it was enough to make him see red.

“Ah, well. . .” you trailed off, deciding that telling him you'd yelled at the group of Gryffindors: 'if you jerks want to have a go at Severus you're gonna have to get through me first!' was a bad idea.

“I sort of, maybe, kind of. . . started it?” you said. Severus raised a brow at you. “Look, Potter was asking for it, okay? It was about time someone messed with him for a change. And besides, it was hilarious, even Lily got a kick out of watching that broom hit him in the head.”

Severus chuckled at that, a hint of pride welling in his chest at yours and Lily's shared distaste for the Potter boy.

“But that was the last straw,” you declared, grabbing a Sopophorus bean from the bowl in front of you and a knife to cut it as per the instructions, “I'm sick and tired of him acting like he's better than everyone else,” you said, stabbing down with your knife for emphasis. The Sopophorus bean jumped as you did, sliding out from under your blade and skidding across your cutting board. You huffed as you grabbed it again, placing it back down and holding it in place. “And he walks around with that little posse of his like he runs this school!” You brought your knife down again, moving your fingers at the last second, but the bean still managed to slip away, trying to bounce back into the bowl.

“This means war!” you seethed, grabbing the runaway legume again, now at your wit's end, and crushing it in your fist. It stopped jumping as the beet-red juice of the plant dripped down your arm, and Severus looked at you with a small smirk on his face.

“Well, that's one way to do it,” he said.

“Shove off,” you said playfully, throwing the bean in his direction. He dodged it easily, his smile growing.

“No, really,” he said, almost more to himself than you as he scribbled out the word 'cut' and replaced it with 'crush' in his notebook, “you might be better at this than you let on.”

You blushed at the unexpected compliment, backhanded as it was.

“Excuse you, I happen to be fantastic at Potions,” you said, grabbing another bean and avoiding his gaze.

“Right, that's why your cauldron exploded.”

“That was sabotage,” you shot back.

“I was talking about last week,” Severus said cheekily, taking in your flustered expression.

You both went back to your ingredients, eventually discovering that crushing the beans with the flat of a knife was the best way to extract the juice without them jumping. You watched Severus out of the corner of your eye as he measured out the African Sea water, adding it gradually as he stirred the mixture counter-clockwise. The elixir turned a bright blue color, shimmering as if light were being reflected off of it. He continued on with the formula, snapping off a few fluxweed sprigs before adding them and lowering the heat with his wand, hardly looking at the instructions at all.

You wondered where this newfound confidence had come from. Severus was usually so rigid and withdrawn, but right now he looked more at ease than you had ever seen him. A spark was present in his eyes as he worked that you rarely ever saw, and it made you smile despite yourself.

The rest of your potion making process went on without a hitch, and you silently applauded yourself as you watched the other students around you struggle to get their concoctions together. Even Lily seemed to be having trouble, though Mary wasn't really helping other than offering moral support.

You turned back to focus on your own potion, stirring it with the ladle and mesmerized by the way it began to turn a deep plum color. Meanwhile, Severus was cleaning up your shared station, looking over at the brew. His brows furrowed as he examined it.

“Just stir it a bit more,” he said, coming up behind you and placing his hand on top of yours, “the color is still off.”

Your face burned at the unexpected contact; Snape certainly wasn't a touchy person, so the act caught you completely off guard, though you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it. Severus nearly jumped backwards, absolutely mortified when he realized what he was doing. It was him micromanaging more than anything; he was so focused on getting the potion right he didn't even notice he was moving his own body as he gave you the instruction.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling quite possibly the lamest he'd ever felt in his life.

“It's okay,” you said, biting the inside of your lip nervously and continuing to stir like he said. Your light response allowed Snape to relax, his shoulders lowering a full three inches. He'd been certain you would have reacted to his mistake with disgust or repulsion, but you didn't. What did that mean? You were utterly confusing. Despite how well you could read him, Severus was unable to get a read on you at all. If he had been, he would have noticed the tiny smile on your face as you stirred, silently wishing his hand were back on yours.

You and Snape stood at attention as Slughorn peered down at your potion, looking mildly impressed. He reached into his robes, procuring an oak leaf from who knows where, and dropped it into your cauldron. The leaf floated on top of the liquid for just a moment before its edges began to burn. It furled from the unseen heat, folding in on itself and disappearing into the inky depths of the liquid. Slughorn's expression lit up, his impression no longer mild.

“Merlin's beard, it's perfect!” he exclaimed, “in all my years I've never seen a pair recreate this potion exactly as you two have done today.”

You beamed at the praise, your smile only widening as you saw your emotions mirrored in Severus' face, albeit more subtly.

Over the course of your fourth year, you and Snape continued to excel in Potions, receiving much praise from Professor Slughorn and a lot of glares from your fellow students. However, there was something else that continued that year, and that was your increasing interactions with James Potter.

“I just don't get why you even bother with him,” Snape had said to you one day while you were in Potions. Your prank war with James was at its peak, and you were sidetracked that day in class coming up with new ideas to get back at him.

“It's a full on battle now, Sev,” you said, “I can't back down! Now, for my next one I was thinking something along the lines of a callback to one of his earlier stunts. Maybe get him back for tampering with my cauldron at the beginning the year.”

“(Y/n)—”

“I've got a few friends in Gryffindor, and apparently he talks about his prank plans way too loudly in the common room, so I have a head start on this one. They mentioned something about my shampoo—“

“(Y/n),” Severus stressed, finally catching your attention. You looked up at him, embarrassed at you rambling. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked, “he's just baiting you. You know that.”

“It keeps them from doing anything that targets you, right?” you questioned back.

Severus didn't know what to say at that. It was true, ever since you had declared war on James, he and his stupid friends hadn't really bothered with him at all. Were you doing this for him? He didn't know what to do with the thought.

You were, of course, but you thought it better not to mention that in the last few months this had been going on, you'd also begun to find the rivalry and banter between you and James fun.

“Gather 'round students, gather 'round!” Slughorn beckoned the class over, disrupting your train of thought and putting an end to your conversation, “now, would anyone like to identify the potion in this cauldron here?” He gestured to a shockingly pink liquid that seemed to swirl on its own. Plum and periwinkle smoke wafted through the air above it in delicate spirals.

“That's Amortentia,” Lily said, “it's a love potion that's supposed to smell different to everyone depending on what scents attract them.”

“Right you are, Miss Evans,” Slughorn said proudly, “would you like to tell us what you smell?”

“Cinnamon,” she started slowly, “warm spices, butterbeer, sandalwood. . .” her cheeks reddened significantly, as if she'd made some sort of realization. “Th-that's all.” You stared at her quizzically but she just shook her head. You'd have to ask her about this later. . .

“(L/n),” Slughorn said, “would you be so kind as to do the same?”

“Sure,” you said, stepping up to the cauldron. It was captivating, almost drawing you in physically. “Wild lavender,” you said, smiling, your mother had a garden full of them when you were growing up, “rain when it hits the pavement, and old leather books.” Scents you wouldn't realize until much later all correlated with a certain person.

“Very different scents for very different people,” Professor Slughorn said, “thank you for demonstrating, you two. Now, we will not be brewing this potion today for obvious reasons. It is incredibly dangerous, capable of creating not true love, but unhinged obsession. What we will be doing, however, is studying its effects. . .”

“Strongest love potion in the world, huh?” Evan suddenly appeared at your side, “funny, I could have sworn it smelled just like you, although you wouldn't need a potion to reign me in~”

“Put a sock in it, Rosier,” you said, shoving him away playfully.

“Aw, come on, just one date wouldn't hurt,” he said, “I'm pulling out all my best lines here!”

“That's the best you've got?”

“Ouch.”

Snape couldn't help but glare at the Slytherin boy, not liking how close he was to you. Nice as he seemed, Snape knew how he could really be. He didn't think you'd be such good friends with Rosier if you knew he was knee deep in the dark arts as soon as the sun set on the castle. Then again, Severus wasn't one to talk.

Over the course of the year he noticed that you only grew closer to James, something that bothered him immensely. He was grateful that you had gotten his bullying to stop, but he hated that the way you had gone about it was to turn Potter into a friend. . .

“Merlin, he keeps looking over at you, Lils,” you said.

Lily and Severus looked over to where James sat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their corner table as usual. Somehow they always managed to be at The Three Broomsticks at the exact same time as your trio, almost as if they knew you were there. James Potter was, in fact, looking towards your table, until your friends not-so-discreetly turned to look at him and he diverted his gaze elsewhere.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes as you took another sip of your butterbeer.

Lily looked between you and James' table for a moment before turning back to you.

“Actually, (Y/n), he's staring at you.”

You looked at her like she'd grown a second head but then began to laugh.

“Is he? Jeeze, what a creep,” you said, but with affection in your voice that wasn't missed by Severus, “it's probably because I saved his ass the other day and he's still reeling from it.”

“Oh,” she said, a hint of what you swore was relief in her tone until she realized what you said, “Wait, you what?”

“Sirius and I were talking in the forest and we got ambushed by Malfoy's motley crew,” you said, “and Potter showed up because of course he did. It was just a little duel, no big deal.”

“What?!” Lily said, concern written all over her face, “they fancy the dark arts, (Y/n), you could have been hurt!”

Severus stared into his drink, unable to look at either of you.

“I'm fine, Lils,” you insisted, “and trust me, I don't think Malfoy's going to be bothering anyone anymore. Just show him a picture of a squid and he'll probably screech like a banshee.”

Lily laughed along with you, partially in confusion, until the first part of your statement hit her with a slight delay.

“Hold on, you were in the forest with Black? And did you just call him Sirius?” she asked, her teasing making your face flush.

“We just. . . figured some stuff out. . . It was nothing like what you're thinking, so drop it,” you grumbled, taking another drink to hide your embarrassed face.

“Whatever you say, (Y/n),” Lily sang, taking a sip of her own drink.

Severus felt jealousy bubble up in him like a disease. He cast his gaze upwards, his eyes locking momentarily with James'. His arch rival rose a cocky brow at him, his gaze unmistakably shifting to you and Lily before staring Snape down again. Severus took a sharp breath to steel himself, that feeling in the pit of his stomach never really going away.

That was the beginning of the end.

Read chapter 5 here!

Taglist: @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

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Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 2 | Be Careful with Clive, I Have Grown Attached to Him

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Tom and Molly are now married. Surprise! These two talk about the logistics of Tom’s half-baked plan. And Molly moves to London to face the firing squad, aka the paparazzi.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

After they signed the license along with the apostille, there had been dancing. That much Molly remembered. And drinking. Specifically drinking champagne. Tom danced with abandon, pulling Molly into the whirlwind of activity he created around him.

But now it was morning, and Molly woke up in a bed that wasn’t her own. She groaned as her head pounded, having forgotten that champagne and her have a love-hate relationship. Molly saw the faint outline of Tom asleep on the couch, his long body stretched out, still wearing his suit from last night. After glancing at the alarm clock, Molly fell back asleep.

Several hours, Molly woke up again and headed to the bathroom, not noticing the now opened curtains.

“Hey good lookin, Whatcha got cookin,” Tom’s voice twanged as he stepped out of the shower. His head pounded a bit, but not the worst hangover he had.

“AHHH!!!” Molly screamed as she stepped into the bathroom.

They both froze, which was more embarrassing for Tom, as at least Molly was still wearing her dress from last night.

“You’re naked.” Molly blinked, her head darting around the room until she focused on an interesting corner of the room.

Tom chuckled, grabbing a towel and wrapping it loosely around his waist. “I don’t normally shower in my clothes. You can look back now.”

She slowly turned back around. “Sorry.” She shuffled her feet. “I should have knocked.”

“It’s quite alright.” He moved towards the door. “Shower is yours and we should talk things over.”

Molly nodded. “We should.”

While Molly showered, Tom dressed in the other room. After finding a clean t-shirt for Molly to wear over her dress until she could change, he called the airlines and changed his single ticket for that morning to a later flight for two, fishing Molly’s ID out of her wallet.

“Thanks for the shirt.” she stepped out.

“It looks good on you.” Tom gestured to the sofa. “Sit. Would you like some breakfast?” Her stomach growled. They both laughed. “That would be a yes.” Tom shoved the room service menu. “Order what you like.”

She selected an egg white frittata while Tom got the pancakes. Tom put in the order and returned his attention to Molly.

“So let’s talk about how this will work.” Tom shifted in his seat.

“An excellent idea. You mentioned living together in London. When do we leave?”

“This afternoon.”

Molly coughed. “That quick?”

“I’m afraid so.” Tom’s hands fidgeted in his lap. She noticed he was still wearing the spider ring. “I have work obligations back home and in order for it to be believable you would need to live with me.”

“Naturally.” Molly slapped her thighs. “So after breakfast, I can head back to my apartment, pack up what little I have, say goodbye to my roommate, and change into appropriate clothing. And you need to get us some proper rings.” She waved her hot pink ring in the air. “Unless of course you intend for your bride to wear a ring from the top of a cupcake.”

“Only if I get to keep my ring. I’ve grown quite attached to Clive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You named the spider?”

“Yes.” There was a knock on the door. “That will be the food. Allow me.” He disappeared and returned shortly with a rolling table, ladened with food. Tom poured a cup of coffee and offered one to Molly.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“I can have them bring up a teapot.”

“I’m pretty sure there are some complimentary ones in the room. Now,” She cut into her food and took a bite. “how will everything else work? Living with you, your life, the paparazzi? That is the whole point of this charade.”

“You do get down to business. So yes, I would expect you to live in my home. In a separate bedroom, I can set up another room as an office for you. We would need to attend events together and generally appear as a loving couple on the outside.”

“And my debts? That is part of the deal, right?”

“Right,” Tom gazed over at her while eating his pancakes. “I would assume the payments while we are together, and after the divorce is final, I would pay off any balance. I would also take care of your daily expenses while we are married. You are welcome to work if you want, but I will give you spending money.”

“So I would be a trophy wife?” Her brown eyes glinted.

Tom waved his hands in front of him. “Not that is not what I meant… I…”

“I am kidding, Tom. If you prefer, I can not work. I don’t mind. Give me some time to figure things out.” A thought came to her. “What about…” Molly searched for the words. “… other needs? Or if you wish to engage in a romantic relationship?” Her cheeks blushed as the words fell out of her mouth.

Tom blushed as well. “I have great self-control and I think if either of us get to that point, we can discuss it. I don’t want you to feel trapped.”

“And I don’t want you to be trapped either. I guess that is as good of an answer I could expect. Anything you want to ask me?”

Tom stared at Molly. The air hung heavy. “Do you regret saying yes?”

“No. Do you regret asking?”

“No.”

Molly downed the rest of her juice. “Well then, it is all settled. I am going to take off to pack. And you have some shopping to do. My ring size is a 7.”

Tom finished up the last bite of pancakes. “Right. We need to leave here by 3 to make it to the airport.”

“I shouldn’t be more than a few hours. Do you have a key to the room I could borrow?”

Tom fished one out of his discarded jacket’s pocket. “Here I will have the front desk make me another one.”

She tapped the key against her nails. “Thanks, Tom. For the help and for being a decent guy.”

“I should be thanking you.”

“You already have.” She grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

Tom headed downstairs, asked the front desk for a new key to the room, and also inquired where the nearest jewelry store might be. The front clerk handed him a key and directed him to a small collection of luxury stores in the hotel. He found Tiffanys and purchased a classic platinum solitaire engagement ring and plain platinum band for Molly and a yellow gold band for himself.

Molly wasn’t back when he returned, so he set about packing up for the flight. His phone buzzed. Luke.

It appears you had a good time in Vegas. The papers say you are drowning your sorrows. Looks like the story is here to stay. Call me when you wake up from your nap at home.

Tom typed back.

I did have a good time. I have a feeling the papers will soon find another story soon. Still in Vegas, taking a later flight. Talk to you soon.

His phone rang. He clicked it off, seeing it was Luke. Rather to get all the yelling done in person. The door opened and Molly came in, dragging a suitcase behind.

“Sorry! My roommate had questions.”

“So does my publicist.”

Tom took in Molly for the first time, really. Outside of the light of a casino floor. And not in a wedding dress purchased for fifty dollars on the way to the chapel. She wore faded jeans, a pair of beat up black Converse and a boxy white tee tucked in. A large black cardigan tucked under her arm. Dark hair in a bun. Quite lovely, if Tom told the truth.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Her brows knitted together.

“Not yet.” Tom tucked his phone into his jean pocket. “Here.” He pulled out the little blue bag.

Molly gasped. “I thought you would go buy some costume jewelry. This is too much.”

“Nonsense. This marriage may be fake, but the jewelry will be real.” Tom opened up the boxes. “May I do the honors?”

Molly held out her hand, and Tom slipped off the plastic ring before replacing it with the wedding set. “Much better. And yours?”

Tom slapped the box into her hand. “Be careful with Clive.” Molly pursed her lips as she pulled off the spider ring and replaced it with the gold band, putting the plastic ring in the Tiffanys box. “Here you go. Clive’s new home.”

Tom tucked the box into his luggage. “Ready to go?”

Molly rocked back on her heels. “Yep.”

Tom held out his arm. “Let’s go home, Mrs. Hiddleston.”

The flight back was uneventful, Molly and Tom dozed off, leaning against each other for support. Molly woke up first. She stared down at her rings. This was not how she expected this weekend going. Molly thought she would scrap together enough tips to make an extra payment on her credit card. Not flying to London with a Tiffany diamond ring on her finger and a famous actor as her husband.

“Life does throw you curveballs from time to time.”

“What was that, darling?” Tom muttered, stretching in his seat.

“Just commenting on the craziness of all of this to myself.” She held out her hand again. Tom laced his fingers with hers.

“I have done the same thing myself. Now when we land, there will probably be paparazzi around. Are you up for getting this whole thing off and running?”

Molly perked up. “What do I need to do?”

Tom tightly gripped Molly’s hand throughout the concourse and baggage claim. They eyed the doors.

“Ready?” she asked, squeezing his hand.

“I promise to be gentle.” Tom squeezed back, smiling.

As they stepped through the doors, Tom flashed a killer smile and Molly did as well, giggling as his arm wrapped around her waist. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Molly melted against him, making sure her rings were visible as she cupped his cheek. She was right, Tom was an excellent kisser. After making sure any photographers had plenty of time to snap a pic, they parted.

“Think they got my good side?” Molly giggled.

“Do you have a bad side?” Tom asked.

“Just wait and see. Now take me home, darling!” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically.

“Drama queen.” Tom pinched her side.

Tom’s home was cozy and clean. Definitely a bachelor’s home, as evidenced by the empty fridge except for a few bottles of beer and some questionable brown sauce.

“I can go shopping later.” Tom dragged a toe along the kitchen floor.

“I can go shopping later.” She reached up and smacked his face playfully. “What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t feed my husband?”

“Fair point. I will call the bank tomorrow and get a card in your name. Just run any big purchases past me first. And we will need to get your name changed, passport, etc. I can have someone help you.” Tom prattled on.

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the place first?”

Tom held out his arm. “This way.”

Tom’s book collection was impressive along with his collection of movies.

“I clear some space if you need it.”

“I only packed clothes. My roommate is selling the rest, including my car and wiring me the money.”

“Oh.” Tom’s face fell. “Let me show you the bedrooms.”

He showed you a small guest room. “This could be an office for you and next door is a bigger bedroom for you.” Tom hustled along the hallway to open the next door. “Here.”

It was a bigger room with a queen bed and a wardrobe. Spare and clearly used for company.

“It will do just fine. And the bathroom is across the hall which is nice. Where’s your room?”

Tom made his way to the end of the hall and opened the door to his room, decorated in tones of grey and navy. A large king sized bed taking up most of the room along with a dresser. A bathroom en suite and a small closet completed the space.

“Very nice. Do you mind if I steal the color palette to decorate my room?”

“Please do. I never got around to decorate it. My sisters and mother are the only ones who stay in there.”

Molly paled a bit. She hadn’t thought about Tom’s family. “I supposed I will meet them soon.”

“I supposed so. It would be odd for my wife not to meet them. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Molly rocked back and forth. “Now why don’t I go shopping and you unpack and relax?”

“I would feel better if I came with you. You are in a different country, a strange city. And what if you have problems with the card?”

“Then let’s go and you can point out some of your favorite foods.”

“It’s a deal.”

“When I said pick out your favorite foods, I didn’t expect it to be only sweets. Did I marry a seven-year-old?”

“I’m 35, thank you. and I enjoy those sweets.”

“You eat like a college frat boy.”

“Guilty.”

“That is definitely changing now that I am around. You can’t continue to eat like that. There are things called vegetables.”

Tom snapped his fingers. “I’ve heard of those.”

“Get out of here!” Molly swatted at him. “I am certain you have things to attend to, and I need to familiarize myself with the kitchen.”

“Are you kicking me out of my kitchen?”

“Our kitchen. And yes.” Molly smirked.

“I yield! I yield. I’ll be in my study if you need me.” Tom walked out of the kitchen and towards his study.

He spied his phone sitting on the desk, still off from the flight. By now, any pictures should have been posted somewhere. Tom collapsed into his desk chair and clicked the phone on. While he waited for it to start up, he could overhear Molly puttering about in the kitchen, muttering to herself as she put away the groceries.

Buzz. Ten messages and eleven missed calls. He didn’t bother to listen to them and instead dialed Luke.

“Luke, I’m back in town. Thought I wou—” Tom started in as soon as Luke picked up.

“I WASN’T FUCKING SERIOUS WHEN I SAID TO GET MARRIED??! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND?!”

Tom pulled the phone away from his ear. “No, I haven’t. But I am married. To a wonderful girl. Her name is Molly. Molly Bishop. You should meet her, Luke.”

“YOU ARE FUCKING RIGHT I’LL MEET HER. AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! SHE CAN HELP IDENTIFY YOUR BODY, THOMAS!” Luke continued to scream on the phone.

“Can you dial back the volume, Luke? I would like to preserve my hearing. Is there something wrong with marrying the woman I love?”

Luke cleared his throat. Tom understood Luke was doing his best to collect himself. “Apologies. There is nothing wrong with marrying the woman you love, Tom. Nothing at all. Except I don’t think you love this woman, since until a few weeks ago you were in love with—”

“Don’t say her name, it will ruin my marital bliss. I’m a hopeless romantic, Luke.”

“Hopeless, yes. Romantic, the jury is still out. And your fans don’t count, they are blinded by you. But I see the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You are not as smart as you think you are.”

“Did any of the articles mention her?” Tom inquired, spinning his wedding band on his finger.

“No.”

“Then I am exactly as smart as I think I am.”

There was a clatter from the kitchen.

“Tom!” Molly called out. “I need your help.”

“Got to go, Luke. My wife needs my help.” Tom emphasized the word “wife.”

“This isn’t over, Tom.”

“It never is. Bye.”

More clattering and another cry. “Tom!”

Tom rushed into the kitchen to find Molly perched on top of the kitchen counter, reaching high into a cabinet.

“Why is everything so high in here?”

Tom chuckled and reached around her, pressing his torso against her back. Molly jumped for a moment at the touch.

“I’m not used to sharing my space. I’m six two, I put things where I can reach them. What are you grabbing?”

“The roasting pan.”

Tom pulled it down and placed it on the counter. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it.

“Thank you. Well, I am five six, so unless you want me climbing counters for the next year, we need to rearrange some things.”

“But you’re so cute climbing around like a little monkey.”

Molly frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? If so, then try again.”

Tom opened his mouth and closed it. “I’ll pull things down after dinner.”

“Thank you.” She rubbed his arm. “Now to try my hand at a roast dinner. Did you get stuff done?”

His phone buzzed again.

“I called my publicist. The pictures posted.” Tom pulled out his phone to shut it off.

“Oh good. So I take it, I had the desired effect.” Molly crunched on a carrot and offered one to Tom, who wrinkled his nose.

The two of you. My office 8 a.m. tomorrow. No excuses. I want to meet the blushing bride.

Tom frowned at the screen.

“It would appear so. I suggest you go to bed early because you are meeting Luke, my publicist tomorrow.”

Molly’s mouth fell open. “Should I be worried?”

Tom smiled at her. “No, I should be.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston smut #accidently married

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gaycrouton · 3 years

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Ray of Light

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he’d actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

Alternatively; Mulder and Scully's first time after he's returned.

angst and pregnancy smut | discussions of trauma | msr | 7k | ao3 | dedicated to the wonderful @sclly

Before Mulder had been abducted, he was finally in a relationship with Scully, or at least that's what he thought of it as. They didn't use the words dating or boyfriend and girlfriend, but they spent every night together, they were intimate in every possible sense of the word, and he'd never felt more loved in his entire life.

When he returned, she was pregnant, had a new partner at work, and on his first night back she drove back to her apartment and left him alone.

Looking back, he knew she was respecting the fact he said he needed time to process everything, but she had no idea how much it added to his confusion. He was uncertain of where he stood with Scully, so he buried himself in his work since it's where he felt most secure, despite her protests. Mulder knew people thought he was being rude, hell even he did at times, but every time he looked into Scully's eyes, he saw nothing but worry and sympathy.

Yesterday he'd broken into the census bureau with Agent Doggett, only for it to be a bust. They'd been laying low at Scully's apartment ever since, and the awkward tension between them just kept mounting. He tried to think of what to say, only to end up feeling like anything he said would come across as curt, and he wanted to avoid saying something else that might hurt her. The last thing he ever wanted was him coming back from the dead just to continue making her sad.

The first thing he noticed about his apartment was that it didn't look like the apartment of a man who'd been missing for months. It was spotless. Cleaner than he'd ever seen it. It made his heart ache thinking of the Scully who was so firm in her convictions he'd come back that she had clearly spent a lot of time making the apartment look great for his return. It made him feel even worse thinking of what response she'd imagined he'd have upon seeing it, only to be met with pure apathy.

As soon as he realized the molly was dead it just felt like a cosmic kick while he was already down. It might've just been one fish that could easily be replaced for $2, but that particular fish was part of a pair Scully had given him early in their partnership when she wasn't sure what he'd like as a gift. She'd been shy and sweet when she presented the black and white duo swimming together in a bag. "These were the only two left and I didn't want to split them up." He'd put them in the tank and, while the black one blended in with the others he had, the white one always swam around and reminded him of her. Now he couldn't even have that.

Despite the lack of communication happening right now, and how much work had been put into making him feel like his space was ready for him to come back, he still found himself staying at her apartment most nights. That first night he spent alone in his place was filled with dream after dream getting tortured — saws going into his chest, his skin being pulled from his body, the pain he could still feel resonating in his bones like a phantom limb. He'd wake up every few hours to the sounds of his own screams resonating off the empty apartment walls. There was always a pause where he waited for her to roll over or for the sounds of her footsteps to rush down the hallway, but it never came. The only thing that brought him comfort was that the bed smelled like her.

It didn't matter how clean his apartment was because that was never what he was coming back to. Scully was his home, and without her, he felt lost. Yesterday he never made a move to leave and she never asked him to. He wasn't sure if he was welcome in her bed, so he purposefully stayed up later than her and passed out on her couch. As had been their rapport as of late, she didn't say anything, but he could tell from her hurt expression that he'd made the wrong decision.

Luckily he could always trust Scully to know how to be his ray of light whenever he managed to lose his footing in the darkness.

"I know how you feel," she murmured lightly while sitting next to him on the couch.

It was so out of the blue he wasn't sure what to respond. The show they'd been watching had gone to commercial break and, apparently, so had them pretending everything was normal. He turned to her, wanting her to know he was giving her his full attention.

"When I came back, I um," she paused, her fingers starting to play with the silken edge of a maternity pajama top. "I felt so out of place within my own life. I felt like I didn't know how to be myself in a world that had gone on without me."

The irony was not lost on him that what he remembered most of those few months after she came back was how frustrated he'd been with her pushing herself. She'd taken a mere week off to recover from they didn't even know what injuries, and she was demanding to work as if all was fine. Mulder recognized it as a diversion tactic, it was more comfortable to focus on work than to process trauma, but he'd gotten frustrated with her, and here he was doing the same thing. The only difference seemed to be she knew from experience it didn't help.

"It took me years to feel like I'd caught up. I still have a hard time grappling with those months I was gone, and that I'll never get that time back. All the things I might've done in that time that were robbed from me. I remember when three months passed since I'd been returned, when I'd been back as long as I'd been missing, I still didn't feel fully like myself. Every external factor was the same, it was just me having a hard time adapting."

He listened to her, entranced by her admission. When he asked how she was doing back then, he'd gotten a lot of 'fines,' and he ended up not asking anymore in fear he was prying and annoying her. To hear her speak so candidly about her experience made him want to go back in time and hug the young woman who felt like he did now. He knew he was empathizing as best he could back then, but now having experienced what it's like, he realized there was no way he could have fully understood the depth and complexity of her emotions.

Scully turned to him with a deep breath and took his hand in her own. "I couldn't imagine coming back to every aspect of my life being different. I at least had the comfort of familiarity when I returned, and I could assimilate back into my old life while trying to process my trauma. I'm sorry if I was rushing you earlier when you said you were having problems processing and figuring out how you fit in."

Her ability to articulate what he was feeling was a relief, and almost eerie. Mulder knew he should say something so she didn't feel like she was talking to a brick wall, but she was saying it better than he ever could and he had missed the sound of her voice.

"I guess what got me through your absence was imagining your return," she admitted, confirming his earlier belief about her being at his apartment which now felt like a diorama of her grief. "I hate it when you're sad, so I didn't want to imagine you that way. It was wrong of me to cling to an image of you who'd come back and react like everything is fine when I know firsthand how unrealistic of an expectation that is to meet."

Mulder knew it was a sensitive question to ask, but he wanted to know. "How did you get through it when you thought I was dead? When it didn't seem like there was a possibility of me coming back?"

Scully's hold on his hand tightened as her face crumpled slightly. He squeezed her hand and stroked the skin on the back of her hand encouragingly. "I tried not to think of how you looked laying in that field," she stated, her voice quivering before a sharp staccato inhalation.

Shit. He hadn't even thought of the fact Scully might have seen his body like that. It made sense she'd want to see it and confirm for herself, Scully was a scientist who needed proof above all else, but he'd imagined her mourning his body on an autopsy table in the comfort of her own domain. Not that she'd seen him in whatever state he was crudely discarded in.

Mulder didn't think he could ever voice to her what he would have done if the situation was reversed and he had found her body dead in a field.

He could tell from her response that it was an image that had traumatized her, something that would no doubt haunt her for the rest of her life; but she managed to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and turn to him to continue.

There would never be a moment in his life where he wasn't astounded by her strength.

"I spent a lot of time in Karen Kosseff's office, and I just tried to focus on staying alive for the baby," she said, putting her other hand on her stomach.

His attention was drawn to the hand rubbing her stomach and that familiar knot of jealousy formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. Someone else had granted her the miracle he wanted to give her and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't even know if it was his place to be upset about it or if he was overstepping. The first time she'd done IVF, when she'd asked him, he felt included — like no matter what, he'd be a part of her and the baby's life. But clearly, she did it again and it made him feel like he hadn't actually needed to be a part of the process. That his involvement wasn't expected or, even worse, truly wanted.

While their conversation had made him feel better, it was that bump underneath her clothes that made him feel like he wasn't invited to a part of her life he wanted to be in more than she knew. Mulder wanted to tell her he'd raise the baby like his own if she'd let him, but the thought of her saying no felt like the last thing he could take right now.

"You can always touch me. You know that, right?" she asked softly off his look.

His hand itched to reach out, but it stayed in his lap. "I'm glad the IVF finally worked for you," he replied, putting all his effort into smiling to show he meant it.

Smiling looked like the furthest thing from her mind. "What?" Scully replied, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?" he repeated, confused by her confusion.

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she bit it in concentration, a look of pain passing her face. "Mulder," she stated hesitantly. "Do you really believe this baby isn't yours?" she asked, hurt she was trying to hide leaking through her words.

Mulder shook his head, dumbstruck. "How could it be?"

"You were right," she shrugged. "I just couldn't give up on a miracle."

"I thought the in-vitro didn't work?" he replied.

"You do remember all the sex we were having before you were taken, right?" she deadpanned. "I trust you got the birds and the bees talk?"

"It's mine," he whispered in shock.

"It's yours," she confirmed with so much conviction his knees would have given out if he was standing. Then, with a layer of vulnerability, she added softly, "You didn't really think…"

Mulder's mind was reeling, but he could still tell she was hurt by his unspoken implication that she'd move on so quickly after how long it had taken them to get together, but he just hadn't known.

"I thought you tried in-vitro again. I thought maybe you asked someone else," he answered weakly, the statement out loud sounding ridiculous to his own ears.

"Who else do you think I'd ask? Skinner?" she asked.

He wasn't going to admit it, but he'd considered it. When he was in the hospital he saw how protective Skinner was of her, how close they seemed to have gotten since he'd been gone. Retrospectively he could see that they likely didn't have many people they could turn to when they were looking for him, so it made sense they would have gotten closer.

"I thought maybe an anonymous donor," he answered with a grimace.

"I could barely get out of bed when you were taken, let alone decide it would be a great time to have a baby," she replied. "Though I will say, I'm glad I had a part of you with me to get me through this. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if I wasn't so concerned with keeping myself healthy for the baby. If I even could have."

Mulder couldn't handle thinking about that, so he focused on her delicate hand resting in his own, the hands that had healed him in more ways than he could count. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed her fingers, inhaling the smell of her lotion as he reveled in the feeling of her skin on his lips once more. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I-I just thought since it didn't work that time and then I saw you pregnant that maybe it was my fault it failed in the first place. I didn't mean to make you feel like I resented you. I never did for a second. I was just depressed that the life I'd been wanting for you and I was happening without me."

Her fingers tightened around his as he pressed their joined hands to his heart. "You're here now," she replied with an encouraging smile.

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he'd actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

He looked down at her swollen stomach and felt a smile break out on his face. Scully was pregnant with their baby. The words didn't even feel real. It felt too good to be true. She tugged his hand towards her and brought it to her stomach, pressing it against her bulge while splaying out his fingers. When Mulder looked up, she was smiling back at him and he realized how much he'd missed seeing that. He had never touched a pregnant woman's stomach before, and he was shocked at how firm it was. "What does it feel like?" he asked, astonished.

"At times, lovely, but most of the time I'm exhausted, feel disgusting, and look like an elephant," she chuckled.

He looked up at her and took note of how long and shiny her hair looked and how she truly exemplified that pregnancy 'glow' he always heard people talk about. She was absolutely radiant.

"You're beautiful, Scully," he murmured firmly. "Always."

He watched as tears immediately pooled in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Hey, hey, hey," he replied, scooting over and wrapping an arm around her to pull her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck, pressing kisses to his skin after littering it with her tears. She smelled like cocoa butter and her skin felt unimaginably smooth. "Are you okay?" he murmured into her shoulder.

Scully pulled away slightly with a chuckle and shook her head. "Yeah, I've just been so emotional because of the hormones and I've hated how things were between us and I'm just so happy you're here," she explained, her voice quivering near the end. Without a moment's hesitation, he closed the gap between them, pressing his mouth to hers as if the mere act could be his benediction — a plea for an absolution only she could give.

She met him with equal fervor and for the first time in days, he was home, he finally felt alive.

It was different, kissing her while she was pregnant. It took more maneuvering than he was used to, but he liked it. Every time her stomach grazed his, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and overwhelming affection for her. "I missed you," she whispered against his lips between kisses. "So much."

He let his hands roam through her hair as they kissed, amazed at how thick it was and how the longer strands felt weaving like water in and out of his fingers. Mulder was surprised at the tonal change, but he figured it made sense. They deserved this little piece of heaven after the hell they'd just been through. Being in her arms was exactly where he wanted to be.

Somewhere between Scully pulling on his shirt and their legs shifting against each other, they ended up with Scully laying on her back on the couch while Mulder hovered above her. He was being mindful of not putting any weight on her stomach as he began kissing one of the tendons of her neck, smiling as he felt her pulse thrum under his tongue. A shiver went down his spine as he felt her rake her long fingernails sensually down his back. He moved to the other side of her neck and kissed the vibrations of her moan.

The moment he registered something tickle his inner thigh, she already began palming him through the front of his grey sweatpants, eliciting a hearty groan. He felt his eyes flutter shut in ecstasy as she deftly moved her wrist, stroking him firmly through the fabric. "Scully," he rasped between clenched teeth, burrowing his face into her neck while pumping against her hand.

"Mulder," she rasped.

He pulled away to look at her and watched as she turned away and coughed. Realizing her rasp was out of a lack of breath and not lust, he sat back on his legs out of concern he'd been pressing on her. "Are you okay?" he panted.

She reached out for his arm and he pulled her up into a sitting position. "Yeah," she nodded with a smile. "The baby just smashes my lungs if I'm on my back for too long."

"Do you want to stop?' he asked, rubbing her arms.

"Absolutely not," she replied firmly before she all but pulled him off his feet and led him by the hand to the bedroom.

"What they say about pregnant women's sex drives must be true then, huh?" he teased, following behind her with his own bounding footsteps.

Upon entering her room she turned to him with a mock-severe look, "You have no idea."

Her intensity and the hunger in her eyes made his cock twitch. Mulder pulled her to him, pressing his arousal to her stomach. "I think I can help with that," he murmured.

He brought his hands up in between them and started undoing the buttons of her nightshirt, noting how her nipples were protruding against the fabric. When he'd done research after she initially brought up in-vitro and having a baby, he learned about how much more sensitive women's bodies became. Out of curiosity, he let one finger stray from his mission to flick one nipple teasingly.

His eyes widened with the intensity of her gasp. "Sorry, my breasts are sensitive," she chuckled breathily, confirming his suspicions.

"I didn't even know that was a possibility for you," he teased, knowing he'd made her come from breast play alone before. Not wanting to neglect the other side, he let the back of his index finger graze over the other pebbled nipple and watched as it seemed to become impossibly harder, her breath almost becoming labored from just that.

This was going to be fun.

When the last button was undone, he raked his fingers up her body in between the flaps of fabric. He gently touched the darker line that was running up the middle of her stomach, only pausing to lightly touch her now protruding belly button.

She laughed huskily and did a little pivot sway away from him. "That tickles," she chastised playfully.

He chuckled along with her as he went to her shoulders, sliding his hands under the fabric so that it slid down her arms behind her, fluttering down in a heap at her feet. The sight of her standing shirtless while pregnant in front of him was enough to take his breath away.

It was initially almost imperceivable, but he saw her hands instinctively go to cover herself, only to hesitate and join self-consciously in front of her stomach. At that moment it struck him that it hadn't been a one-off comment in the living room: she really felt insecure about herself. She was trying to hide it, her trust for him feeling like the greatest honor, but he could still see it in her demeanor change. "You have no idea how sexy you are," he praised when he caught her eye.

"Mulder, you don't ha-" she began with a slight shake of her head.

"Don't," he whispered. Mulder raised his hands and cupped her jaw in his palms, coaxing her to look at him fully and see his sincerity. "I love your body. You're carrying our baby, and I'm in awe of you. Scully, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire life, and that most certainly hasn't changed. I don't want to see you doubt yourself."

He was glad to see he hadn't lost the ability to make her blush since he'd been gone. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were misty again. "Thank you," she mouthed, her voice a ghost of a whisper. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, each cheek, and the tip of her nose before finally resting on her lips, hoping to convey his earnest adoration.

Scully's tongue slid into his mouth to deepen the kiss as her hands wrapped around him, sliding up under his shirt to play with the skin of his lower back. His hands slid away from her jaw and one entangled itself in her hair while the other reached around to cup the back of her neck.

However, where he anticipated meeting the slightly raised line of where he knew her little implant scar was, he felt something that felt significantly more raised. His eyes shot open as he pulled away, all other thoughts temporarily forgotten. Scully had a slightly chagrined expression on her face as her eyes tentatively peeked open.

He didn't wait before walking around her, gently moving her hair aside so he could have a better look at the back of her neck. The ghost of the white little scar he was anticipating had suddenly become paired with a raised, red, and angry scar next to her old one, only this one was far newer and deeper.

This was one of his favorite spots on her body. The tiny little scar was a reminder of her strength. He liked to kiss and touch the spot he knew held the miracle that helped keep her alive. Seeing this new wound right next to it made his heart race and his body go numb. "D-did someone cut out your chip?" he asked. Immeasurable guilt started to fill him at the knowledge that someone hurt her while he wasn't there. That someone tried to take something so important. Would her cancer come back?

She turned around quickly and reached up to mirror the centering touch he'd just given her as she cupped his face with her hands, her fingers gently scratching the fine hairs near his ears.

"No. No one tried to cut out my chip," she replied firmly.

"But did they inadvertently do so? What happened?" he asked, falling into his reflexive habit of becoming one-track-minded where Scully's safety was concerned.

"It's still there. I had them x-ray me when I got to the hospital. I promise, I'm okay," she pressed. "I can fill you in on all the cases you missed later, okay?"

There must've been something on his face that made her realize he'd be focused on it until he got a little more assurance than that. With a sigh, she stroked the skin of his cheeks and stated, "I initially had a hard time letting myself trust Doggett so I went on a case alone and some cultists tried to make me a host for their God. I'm not going to go into details right now because it's gross and I'm trying to have sex right now, but Doggett found me and I had to have him cut something out of me because we were running out of time. I promise it's not as bad as it looks."

"Doggett did that to you?" he repeated, the image of the man cutting her burning into his mind.

She rolled her eyes and looked at him pointedly. "I think you missed the part where I said I told him to. He saved my life, Mulder." She moved her hands down to rest on his chest, roaming his muscles with clear appreciation. Then she looked up at him with big eyes while teasingly pouting her lip. "I don't want to talk about Doggett or cases right now. I've missed you so much and I thought about this for months. Please don't make me wait anymore. I promise I'm okay and I'll fill you in on everything later. Just be here with me," she pleaded.

Mulder could never say no to her when she asked like that, so despite his curiosity, he smiled and nodded. They were in no rush, they had plenty of time. He'd ask questions tomorrow.

Tonight was for her.

"Okay," he replied, tucking an errant hair behind her ear.

"Good," she smirked triumphantly, a devilish gleam twinkling in her eye. "I don't want to be the only one half-naked anymore," she demanded.

His hands slid down her body and he smirked when he felt goosebumps arise in their wake. "You're right, you should be fully naked," he replied, tugging on the elastic waistband of her pajama pants. She let him slide the silk shorts down her legs, no underwear much to his delight, and she was visibly shivering in excitement as he palmed her bare hips in his hands as he stood back up.

Not wanting to dismiss her wishes though, he quickly rid himself of his shirt and his sweatpants so they were both standing nude. "Get on the bed," he commanded lowly.

She hummed in appreciation and crawled onto the bed, the roundness of her stomach visible between her thighs as she made her way up to the headboard and her arousal glistening prominently. She was so wet it was already leaking onto her inner thighs and he felt proud to have been the cause. His erection that had weaned when they were talking about her injury had sprung back in full force upon seeing her fully naked again. God, he missed her.

Despite his arousal and excitement, he couldn't help but feel robbed of the opportunity to see these developments occur over time. Mulder wished he could have seen her body slowly change and develop as new life grew inside her. Suddenly he painfully related to her earlier sentiment regarding feeling indignant about the time that had been taken and all the moments he was robbed of. He wanted to hold her hair back when she had morning sickness, he wanted her to jump his bones anytime she wanted because of her hormones, and he wanted to be there every time she had a moment of doubt that told her she was anything other than beautiful so he could tell her how wrong she was.

They'd made love quite a lot in their short time together between her coming to his bed that night he got back from England and his being abducted, but as far as intimate relationships went, it was all still relatively new. He had only just started feeling confident he was proficient in the body and pleasure of Dana Scully. He'd been cataloging every freckle, memorizing every moan and gasp in the hopes of recreating them, and now he felt out of practice. Her body had changed and he was determined tonight to worship her and become reacquainted with her. He wanted to know the intricacies of Dana Scully both inside and out.

Mulder wanted to take his time. Crawling onto the bed after her, he approached her sitting form and kissed her while on his hands and knees. He knew there were going to be many new pregnancy-related changes, but now he was going to look out for any new scars or injuries that happened since they were last together. He just wanted to know so he could start to create a new future. Her skin was pale and delicate, her veins pale and blue underneath her skin like the blue lines on pulpy parchment. He wanted to use his tongue to write odes on her skin, he wanted to fill the spaces between the lines with 'I love you's, pink scrapes of his stubble, hickies left in his mouth's wake — he wanted her body to be a diary of his love. It was his goal to replace the memory of harsh, cruel hands and evil intentions and leave behind nothing but reassurances of his love and affection for her.

He pulled back, enjoying the way her body leaned forward instinctively to keep them connected, and watched as a content expression crossed her face. Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned impishly at him.

"What positions work best for you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied in amusement. "I've never had pregnancy sex before."

"We're like virgins," he joked.

"Oh absolutely," she deadpanned, placing a hand on her severely pregnant stomach for emphasis.

Mulder snickered before he maneuvered onto his back, his cock bobbing in the air emphatically. He was adjusting himself when he felt Scully's knee come to nestle against his hip, her other going over him so she was sitting on his lap. Pausing his movements, he watched as she grabbed his erection and brought it closer to herself. However, instead of easing up on her knees and guiding him inside of her like he thought she was doing, she rocked back and forth while pressing his cock against her folds, rubbing his head against her clit with each movement.

"Fuck," he moaned, his hips inadvertently snapping up from pleasure and causing her to moan at the unexpected contact.

She continued her ministrations until her knees had his hips in a death grip and her movements were becoming erratic as her orgasm built. Mulder watched as she lifted herself up, but he pivoted his hips before she could sink onto him.

"Wait," he rasped.

"Mulder," she whined, dragging out his name as she pouted.

The sight amused him, and he nearly gave in. "There's something I need to do first," he explained.

"Do you have to do it right no-"

"Scoot up here and grab the headboard," he instructed.

Her pout quickly turned into a smile and an enthusiastic, "Oh!"

Doing as he instructed, she made her way up his body until she was straddling his face. "It's weird not being able to look down and watch you," she remarked once she braced her hands against the headboard.

Utilizing the way her stomach eclipsed his head underneath her to his advantage, he latched his mouth onto her clit without warning and added suction. "Shit!" she gasped, her body jerking in surprise. He reached his arms around her thighs so she was locked in place as he ran his tongue along her seam. She was so wet the mere contact had already drenched the lower half of his face. Her labia was swollen red from arousal and if her movements a moment ago were any indication, she was close to coming already.

He plunged his tongue inside of her and curved it so he was pressing against her inner wall, alternating between the pointed tip of his tongue and the flat of it when it was relaxed. He licked his lips and savored the taste of her. It was distinguishably Scully, but slightly different, sweeter, than he remembered. Even though his arms were around her thighs, she was still squirming as best she could. Knowing going back to her clit was what was going to send her over the edge, he swirled around it teasingly. Once, twice, then he latched on with suction while flicking the pointed edge of his tongue mercilessly against her clit.

A gasp tore from her lungs and was immediately followed by her panting his name with so much reverence it sounded like a prayer. Mulder felt her thighs start shaking and quivering against him with the power of her orgasm, and he didn't stop until she jerked away from him and placed a hand on his shoulder to signal she was too sensitive.

Scully adjusted herself so she was back in her original position, only stopping once to give him a deep kiss on the mouth. Mulder was too focused on what she was going earlier to notice much more, but now that she was sitting on his lap in the glow of the lamp, he realized her breasts were fuller now. Sitting up without dislodging her, he brought his hands up to cup them, playing with their weight in his hands. Scully's eyes shut in pleasure as her head rolled to her shoulder, leaning forward into his touch.

Mulder bent his head down and flicked his tongue over a pebbled nipple before taking the darkened areola into his mouth and sucking. "Mmm," she moaned, squirming against him in desperation for any contact. His cock was grinding into the flesh of her ass as she ground her clit desperately into his pubic bone.

He let go of one nipple to take a few deep breaths before moving onto the other one to give it the same attention. One hand was resting on the curve of her hip, stabilizing Scully, while the other rubbed her other breast and sternum. Mulder was so focused on playing with her, that he didn't fully register her grab his forearm so she could bring his hand to her face until he felt her lips clamp around his thumb. He felt his cock throb at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth sucking on his thumb.

Mulder released her breast with an audible suction as he looked up at her. If he let himself, he could have come from the look in her eyes alone. Scully kept her gaze even as she swirled her tongue around his thumb lewdly. He playfully bent it in her mouth and watched as her lips opened into a breathy chuckle. Pulling his hand away, he lowered it so he could spread her saliva around both her nipples, blowing a stream of cool air on them to make her shiver. He watched her nipples tighten in front of him before resting his hand on her inner thigh so he could swirl his thumb around her swollen clit.

"I want you," she gasped as she swiveled her hips to compliment his ministrations.

"Like this?" he asked.

"No," she mused. Then with displeasure added, "My knees are starting to hurt."

"Try laying on your side," he suggested, easing himself up as she got off him.

She laid down and faced the wall, presuming he was going to spoon up behind her. "What're you doing?" she asked when she saw him at her knees.

"Face the other way," he replied, straddling her bottom leg while bringing the other to rest against his hip. This way she could lay down on her side and wouldn't have to exert herself as much.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

While she was still laying on her side, she was pivoting slightly so she could face him. "Yeah," she replied while rubbing her top leg against his encouragingly.

He reached down and grabbed his shaft, rubbing the tip tauntingly between her folds before slowly easing himself into her. He watched her face to make sure he wasn't hurting her, but all he saw was an expression of content bliss. "You feel so good," she sighed, tilting her hips to give him room to go deeper.

"Jesus, Scully," he groaned in ecstasy as her walls clamped down around him like a vice.

One of her hands went to one of his legs and she began grasping at him, seemingly just wanting to touch him in any way she could. "More," she demanded.

As much as he wanted this to last for as long as possible, he was in no condition to deny her. He began pumping his hips against her, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate him as he slid in and out of her. Her breasts were bouncing tantalizingly and he watched as she brought her other hand up and began cupping herself, moving from one breast to the other haphazardly.

Leaning forward slightly, Mulder let his hand roam across her stomach, feeling the way it moved with each thrust. It was an odd experience, but insanely erotic at the same time. He repositioned his knees a little bit so he could angle his hips to try to hit her g-spot. Mulder had been pretty proficient at finding it before, but he felt his spongy head rubbing against the grooves of her front walls and he hadn't heard her telltale gasp yet.

He rocked his hips a little differently, trying a little farther back, and he saw her body tense as her breathing hitched. There it is. "Please don't stop," she begged breathlessly, her hands moving to grab fistfuls of the bedspread. He picked up the pace, hitting the same area repeatedly with the tip of his cock while sounds of pleasure flew out of her mouth mindlessly. "Yes. Need. Please. So good. More. Mulder," variants of those words at different volumes and tones with intermittent moans.

He felt a coil start to tighten in his abdomen and he knew he was close. Scully was too as she reached around her stomach to rub her clit with her middle and ring fingers. "That's it, Scully," he praised, locking eyes with her while their mutual bliss grew.

With one quick snap of his hips, he watched as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open as her body trembled with her orgasm. It was clearly taking a conscious amount of effort to keep her eyes open, and he was grateful for it because seeing her come undone was the single most beautiful and erotic thing he'd ever seen. The visual combined with the feeling of her spasming around him caused him to come right after her.

Scully stroked his hair as he caught his breath. "You mean so much to me," she mused out loud, her hand moving to cup his jaw while her thumbs carefully brushed over the scars on his face.

He still felt self-conscious about them, even though he knew it was silly and Scully herself said they'd heal soon. Trying to ignore his insecurities, he bent down to kiss her before he moved so that he was spooning her from behind, pulling a light blanket over them as he put his arm around her.

"Thank you, Scully," he murmured into her hair.

"I think you're the one who deserves the thank you. My knees would have given out a long time ago," she replied, placing her hand on top of the hand he'd placed on her stomach.

He chuckled lightly before shaking his head. "I wasn't talking about that, though I think you deserve some appreciation anyway," he remarked, kissing the crown of her head.

"Then what for?" she yawned.

"Everything," he stated simply.

He felt her about to say something but he interrupted her with a gasp when he felt something press against his palm. "Did you feel that?" she replied excitedly, her hand pressing into his and moving it slightly.

"Was that-"

"The baby kicked," she replied, the smile audible in her tone.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, it felt pretty strong against his hand, he couldn't imagine the internal version of that.

"Not really. It's oddly comforting unless it's on my bladder," she replied. "It's probably going to happen again."

They both laid in silence together for a moment in anticipation, only to simultaneously disrupt it with excited laughs when the baby kicked again. "That's amazing," he replied in awe.

"It really is," she mused in kind.

"Do you know what it reminds me of?" he asked.

"You better not say-"

"- the movie Alien," he replied, smiling when he heard her amused sigh.

He rubbed her stomach gently, both to touch Scully and to start trying to connect with the kid. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"Maybe, but I won't tell," she lilted cheekily.

"That's evil, Scully," he tsked, nudging her lightly with his knee. "I guess it doesn't matter. No matter what, the minute their little arms can hold up a bat I'm going to teach them how to play ball. You can help me since you've received top-notch training from the best," he declared.

Instead of responding, she turned so that she could look at him, and he realized she was crying. "Hey, hey. It's okay," he stammered, moving to stroke her hair and wipe away her tears.

"I'm so relieved you're here. I missed you so much and I was so scared I was going to have to do this alone," she sobbed, clutching his hand like he was going to disappear again if she let go.

Mulder felt his throat start to tighten in sympathy and he held her tighter while kissing her temple. He'd suffered so much when he was taken, but so had she. They were only ever going to get through the emotional scars if they were together. "I'm here, Scully, I promise. I'm yours forever."

#x files #x files fanfic #msr #mulder #scully #fanfic #pregnancy #three words #angst

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aliwritesfic · 3 years

Text

Night Shift Part 3 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Yours and Frankie’s weekends take very different turns

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Emotionally abusive relationship, very brief mention of drug use, drinking, T*m D*vis makes an appearance

Part 1 Part 4

Frankie slept better that week than he had in months. Every night was long, uninterrupted, mercifully dreamless sleep. The diner had done exactly what he had hoped. When he awoke that Saturday afternoon, he felt better than he had in ages. He hummed while he rummaged through the refrigerator, grabbing out some leftover padthai and throwing it in the microwave.

Each night that week, a routine between you and him had formed. You’d work, barely exchanging words until the dinner rush was completed, then you’d make him a coffee and he’d make you something to eat. You’d requested something different each night, and each night you’d spoken to him a little more. Some nights you were in a better mood than others, but he quickly realised it wasn’t personal against him.

He found he was a little disappointed when he woke up that afternoon and remembered that it was his day off. If he was being honest with himself, he’d grown to enjoy your company. Something about you intrigued him, made him want to get to know you more.

Frankie spent getting stuff together for poker night with the boys. It was his turn to host, so all he had to do was make sure that his dining room table was clear and his portable speaker was charged.

While he got ready, his mind kept wandering back to you.

He thought of the way you had a different smile for certain customers. The truly genuine one was reserved for only a select few of your favourites. He felt himself hoping that one day you’d give him one of those smiles, instead of the one that didn’t really reach your eyes and disappeared quickly.

He thought of how when the diner was quiet, you’d lean against the counter and sip your coffee, your gaze firmly out the window.

He thought of how when your shift ended and you checked your phone, your face would change for just a fraction of a second before you’d say goodbye and rush out the door.

Jesus fucking Christ, he thought, do I have a crush?

Frankie hadn’t had a crush since high school, when he had finally had the guts to ask out Portia Inglewood. That relationship had lasted until he left the military, and brought all the emotional baggage with him.

A loud banging on the door knocked him out of his thoughts.

“Cat!” Benny didn’t wait for Frankie to open the door. “We’re here, and we have beer!”

“You know where it goes,” Frankie called back.

Santi grinned at his best friend and handed him a beer. “How’s the new job?”

“It’s exactly what I need right now,” Frankie told him. Santi nodded in understanding. They all had their own ways of dealing with what they carried. “Plus, the extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

Frankie didn’t want money - he had plenty from when he’d do private jobs with Santi. If he ever became desperate, he knew he could just join Santi on his next job.

“Well, extra cash or not, I’ll always be the hottest person you’ve ever worked with,” Santi winked, making Frankie roll his eyes.

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, man.” Frankie laughed.

The night progressed in a haze of pizza and beer and poker. Will lost money to Tom, and Tom promptly lost it all to Benny. Santi told the group about the new girl he was seeing, some French expat over stateside for a few months. Benny double checked everyone was coming to the fight next weekend. Tom revealed that he and the girls were moving to Ohio to be closer to Molly’s parents. The boys promptly began planning a going away party, which would basically just be another poker night but with more beer and possibly a cake.

Any worries Frankie held seemed to melt away on nights like these. At one point, he briefly wondered what you were doing and if you were thinking of him too. Yep. Definitely a crush.

~*~

You didn’t like Kurt’s friends. Unfortunately, you were stuck spending your Saturday night with them crowded in your apartment, loud and disrespectful as hell. It didn’t matter to them that you’d asked time and time again could they please go outside to smoke, could they please put their beer bottles in the recycling bin, could they please not use your nice plates to do coke on.

If your grandfather could have seen you now, he would’ve called you a push-over. You hated that you had become this person - afraid to stick up for yourself in your own home. Hell, you didn’t even know at what point you’d become this person. It just seemed to happen over the five years you’d been dating Kurt.

You had lost yourself in trying to be what he wanted.

With a sigh, you sealed yourself away in the bedroom with a bag of Doritos and your phone, wishing you could call your grandfather. You still had his number in your phone. Occasionally, you’d look at it, the numbers seared into your brain.

Instead of calling the now disconnected number, you settled for messaging Sara. She was one of your only remaining friends from high school, and knew as much about your feelings as you were willing to let on. The thing was, you knew what she would say if you told her how you felt every single day. How lost, how hopeless you felt. She’d tell you to leave, forget Kurt and all the years with him, but to you it wasn’t that simple.

Part of you still loved him, despite everything, and that part remained hopeful that you and Kurt could fix the fractures in your relationship. Plus, a voice in the back of your head told you he was right when he said he was the only one who could ever love you.

Being alone, unloved, was one of your deepest fears.

This was one of the nights you actually missed being at the diner. You missed the lemon scented countertops, the radio that seemed to be permanently set on the oldies station, hell, you even missed Frankie and his amazing food. He’d been working with you less than a week but he had already wedged himself into your stomach. But, it was just two more nights until you were back there. It struck you that this was the opposite of how most people thought. No one you knew actually wished to go back to work.

It was almost dawn when you were woken out of your half sleep by Kurt stumbling into the room.

“Baby,” he slurred, crawling into bed beside you. “Baby, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumbled, moving over so he could fit in the bed easier. He reeked of sweat and booze.

“I’m sorry,” he planted a sloppy kiss on your neck. “I really try to be good.”

“I know,” you ran your fingers over his head. He liked his hair cropped short, in an almost military like style. “I try too.”

“Can we go back to how we were?” Kurt continued kissing you, his hands moving drunkenly over your body. You bit back a sigh, knowing where this was heading.

You decided it would be easier to let him do what he needed, despite how badly you wanted to sleep. The only saving grace was you knew Kurt would only last a couple of minutes before it would be over.

~*~

“So, what’s the new guy like?” Manny asked. You were seated outside, at one of his favourite cafes. The sun shone down warmly on you both, brightening your mood.

“I like him, I think,” you said. “He’s nice, quiet.”

“And pretty cute, right?” Manny wriggled his eyebrows.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lied. Of course you had noticed. It was impossible not to notice.

“Don’t feed me bullshit, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Ugh, fine. He’s good looking. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s the thing lover, it only means something if you want it to.” Manny took a conspiratorial sip of his drink. “And I didn’t get a gay vibe from him.”

“Oh good, because the only thing holding me back from jumping his bones in the kitchen is that I didn’t know his sexual preference.” You rolled your eyes, deciding to quickly change the subject. “Anyway, how’s the new job?”

“I’m loving it!” Manny lit up. “Everyone says teenagers are the worst group to teach, but it’s like they forget middle school exists.”

You smiled at Manny’s happiness. It thrilled you to see someone you considered your best friend so happy. If anyone deserves the whole world, you thought, it’s him. But he wasn’t going to let you change the subject that easily.

“You know, maybe you could invite Frankie to one of our lunches,” Manny said slyly. “It could be a night crew thing.”

“That would mean inviting the weekenders,” you reminded him. Manny held a grudge against the weekend crew, but you could never figure out why.

“No, weeknight crew only. Come on, lover, it could be fun! Plus, I want to get to know my replacement a bit better. Make sure I’m not handing the spatula to someone I don’t approve of.” Manny pouted and switched on his puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll ask,” you conceded, “but don’t be surprised if he says no. The man probably has a life.”

“It can’t hurt to ask though, and I will bother you about it until you have an answer.”

“What are you planning?” You knew that look all too well.

“Just on making a new friend,” Manny said innocently. “Lover, you can never have enough friends.”

At that moment your phone buzzed with a text from Kurt.

Where r u?????

You grimaced and sent a quick reply, hoping it wouldn’t lead to what it usually did.

At lunch with Manny from work. I’ll be home in a couple hours, do you want anything?

“Why don’t you just break up with him?” Manny asked, watching you carefully.

Is he the gay 1?

Yes, you met him and his husband last year.

“It’s complicated,” you said. You didn’t have anywhere to go. You were terrified of being alone. Part of you still felt like you could salvage what you had. The one and only time you had tried to break up with him, he had threatened to kill himself if you left.

“You deserve better than that,” Manny said. You remained silent, not sure if he was right. “You’ve been unhappy for ages now.”

“I’m happy!” You protested.

“No you aren’t. Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re miserable with that douche bag, even James agrees.”

“I haven’t seen James in months! How the hell would he know!” You were getting defensive, but you still managed to keep your voice lowered.

“Lover, I talk that man's ear off every chance I get. Because I love him. Because he likes to hear me talk about my day and the people important to me.”

“I’m important to you?”

Manny rolled his eyes and threw his napkin at you. “Of course you are, you’re a sister to me. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“What subject!” You scoffed.

“The subject of you for some reason wanting to stay in a relationship with a man who makes you miserable,” Manny’s voice softened and he gently held one of your hands. The gesture almost made you tear up with its gentleness. You merely shrugged.

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Manny nodded. “Just please think about it, for real. I couldn’t sleep at night if I never said anything to you about it.”

The walk home was slow, you took your time to sort out your scrambling thoughts. Manny had offered to drive you, but it was a nice day, and you wanted to enjoy the sunshine. You pushed the issue of Kurt to the side, knowing either way the outcome would be the same unless you magically grew a spine and a few extra zeros in your bank account.

Instead, you thought about Frankie and how best to ask him to Sunday lunch. Honestly, if there was going to be a night shift tradition, it just felt downright rude to not at least extend an invite. And if Frankie said yes, well, that was even better. It was like Manny said - an opportunity to make a new friend. Just a friend.

So why did your stomach flip at the thought?

Tagging @hnt-escape if you’d also like to be tagged just let me know <3

#the night shift #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #slowburn #diner romance #friends to lovers

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thevalleyisjolly · 3 years

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The thing is, I think we have to distinguish between Caleb’s personal character journey and the narrative arc of the Cerberus Assembly/Empire, both of which Trent plays a role in, but not in the same way.

Caleb’s personal character journey heavily involves Trent as a central antagonist, and honestly, I do believe that just in terms of emotional character development, Caleb’s already resolved that particular conflict. When Trent messaged him in his head, and Caleb was able to honestly tell him that he wasn’t important and that there were bigger things than him, that was his moment of emotional climax. Trent, who’s haunted him for so long, is no longer the most important thing in his life, and he’s able to say it to him and mean it. As an emotional character journey, that catharsis has been reached.

On the other hand, there’s the narrative arc of the Cerberus Assembly/Empire, which is closely tied to Caleb’s personal character journey but should not be conflated with it either. Because let’s be honest, while Trent is one of the central antagonists within the institutions of the Assembly and the Empire, he’s not the only one. Almost every Assembly member is guilty or complicit in a multitude of crimes, and Dwendal is more concerned with his ego trip than what’s best for the people under his rule. There’s a danger in figure-heading Trent as the sole or primary source of evil in the Empire, because he’s not! If Trent gets killed or ousted, someone else will replace him, and all the people who knew what he was doing and ignored or enabled him are still there. Perhaps Astrid will replace him, and alright, maybe she won’t put any crystals in kids’ arms, but she’s probably going to keep the Vollstrucker program running. Or perhaps his replacement does get rid of the Vollstruckers, but all the other Assembly members who stood by and let him do his thing, they’re still there.

Even if there had been a big fight against Trent, it wouldn’t magically resolve all the rot inside the Empire. And that’s something that both Caleb and Beau have been very invested in throughout the campaign! Rooting out corruption, making sure no more children get hurt, making the Empire a better place. But there is no quick fix to that, it doesn’t work like “Trent gets prosecuted/dies and snap! The Empire is all good now.” It takes time, and allies, and a concerted effort. It could very well be its own mini-campaign.

I get wanting Caleb to have a rest, to be able to move on from his life and never have to deal with Trent again. Let someone else take care of Trent! But even though he’s emotionally arrived there, he’s still invested in the wellbeing of the Empire, of the people in the Empire. He’s spent a significant chunk of the campaign telling people that he wants to cut out the rot in the Empire, that it isn’t vengeance so much as no more children on the pyre. And I think conflating that with “take down Trent” misrepresents both the magnitude of the situation and Caleb’s own motivations. Taking down Trent is certainly one part of cutting out the rot, but it’s not the whole of it by any means. Not to mention, after the catharsis of Caleb telling Trent that he’s not important, it once more centralizes Trent as the big enemy of the narrative, when it’s clear that the problems in the Assembly and the Empire do not begin and end with Ikithon.

And ok, alright, "realistically,” a group of adventurers is not going to singlehandedly take down a corrupt government or institution. That isn’t the way the world works, and powerful people get away with shit all the time. This could be something to explore in a future campaign or in your own home campaign, etc etc etc.

...But you want some kind of resolution for this conflict. The Assembly has been one of the earliest introduced and longest running conflicts in this campaign. They torture children and turn them into soldiers. The war which they helped instigate affected two nations, and more personally to the Mighty Nein, Veth’s family. Even the current Somnovum arc links to the Assembly and Vess De Rogna - if she didn’t sabotage Lucien’s ritual (which also inadvertently resulted in Molly), he probably wouldn’t have seen what the Somnovum really were.

So much of the campaign has been affected, directly and indirectly, by the Assembly. Even if it isn’t realistic for the Mighty Nein to tear the whole thing down, there’s a confrontation that’s been building across the campaign, and whether that’s a battle or a political take-down or some kind of calling to account, that’s a thread you want to be able to tie off in some way. There are lots of threads which can be left dangling or open ended. Tharizdun is a whole big issue that the Mighty Nein are certainly not going to solve by themselves. Aeor is a great place to revisit for oneshots - find out what caused the corruption in Caduceus’ grove, learn more about the origins of dunamancy and the Beacons, hang out with Devexian and discover more about Aeor itself! But the Assembly has been such a central figure across the campaign that you want to see the Mighty Nein address that conflict on-screen, and you want to see how they do it. And that’s emotionally and practically a lot more than an epilogue wrap up can hold.

TL;DR There’s a difference between the role Trent plays as a primary antagonist in Caleb’s personal character journey, and the role Trent plays as one of many antagonists in the Assembly/Empire. Caleb achieving emotional resolution in his personal character journey doesn’t mean that his campaign-long motivations have been satisfied, or indeed that the conflict with the Assembly has been addressed to an extent that matches its impact on the characters and the campaign.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #tagging this as discourse just in case #cr discourse #a horse playing frisbee #TO BE CLEAR; i think caleb's *personal* character journey had been resolved #i just have my reservations about how they're going to resolve the assembly conflict in the time remaining #from the beginning; the assembly has been set up as a significant antagonist #which is something i'd expect to be resolved in this campaign and not an epilogue wrap up

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celtics534 · 3 years

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At Least for Tonight: Part II

Part 1

As promised, part 2! I hope y’all enjoyed these little hinny moments! Again, thank you anon who sent me the ask!

Read both parts on: FF.net or AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny breathed in deeply, her eyes drooping closed.

“Ginny, dear.” Her mother’s voice was soothing as a hand ran along her back. “Why don’t you head up to Gryffindor tower, try to find a place to sleep for the night?”

She opened her eyes to look into the ones that matched hers perfectly. The sorrow in Molly’s normally bright eyes was overwhelming, even after just one second. It was like the pain Ginny’s mother was feeling was palpable. Yet, Molly was putting on a brave front, trying to care for her daughter… for her children that had survived.

“Mum.” Ginny wanted to stay with her mother, to try to comfort her, but her treasonous body denied her the chance, forcing a jaw-popping yawn out of her.

Molly gave her a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Go on now, love.” She pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head before gently guiding Ginny from her shoulder. Ginny shakily rose from her vigil beside her mother. Her steps were uncertain as she started towards the marble stairs.

For all her years at Hogwarts, Ginny had never minded the trek up to the Gryffindor Common Room. Especially when she was dreading the potion essay awaiting her, or when she and Harry had —

Harry

The name was like an invocation in her mind. Harry Potter, who had just stopped the most heinous monster for years. Harry Potter, the man who had practically disappeared off the face of the Earth for nearly a year. Harry James Potter, Ginny’s ex-boyfriend and the man she had missed with every fiber of her being.

Ginny’s mind started thinking back to the last time she’d seen him, the last time they’d been alone long enough to have a real moment. That moment had kept Ginny sane through the most arduous year of her life. When she crawled into bed at night, Ginny had replayed the feeling of his fingers teasing her waist, the softness of his lips, the intensity of his eyes as he held her close to him in the dim moonlight of the Burrow kitchen.

God, that felt like a lifetime ago, yet at the same time, the phantom feeling made it feel as if it were only yesterday. With a sudden realization, Ginny remembered Harry hadn’t been in the Great Hall when she’d left. A wave of panic coursed through her. What had happened to him? Where had he gone?

She forced her overtired mind to think. Where would someone go after fighting for their life? It was hard to keep her mind straight when she was so tired… tired… Bloody hell, Harry would be exhausted after everything he’d been through! Hell, the reports about the Gringotts break-in had been less than forty-two hours ago. And knowing Harry, and that was something Ginny prided herself in, he would go to the place he’d slept for the past six years while at Hogwart. Ginny’s stride quickened as she climbed flight after flight, ignoring the destruction around her. She couldn’t think about what had been her life for the last twenty-four hours. Ginny refused to replay the violent memories that were trying to push to the forethought of her mind. Instead, she kept them at bay with one thought -- or better yet one person. Harry. She needed to see him with her own eyes. Just at least for one minute.

She came to a dead halt in front of the Fat Lady portrait, for the first time considering she hadn’t known been at school in months and the password had more than likely changed. “Er —”

The Fat Lady simply smiled at her before swinging wide.

“Thanks,” Ginny murmured as she climbed into the common room. Her left foot caught on the edge of the portrait, nearly making her land flat on her face. Ginny cursed as she caught herself. That would be the last thing she needed, a sprained ankle.

Letting out a long sigh, Ginny looked around the seemingly untouched tower. Everything looked exactly as it had for the last six years. Tables in the corners, comfy couches strategically in front of the fireplace. If Ginny didn’t know better she’d be able to pretend a war hadn’t just come to completion mere hours beforehand.

She looked over towards the girl’s staircase. That’s where her mother would expect her to go, back to the sixth year’s dorm and her old bed. But Ginny’s heart and feet had other plans. She was halfway up to the seventh year’s boy’s room before she even realized she’d begun to move. The door was ajar, making it easy for Ginny to peek inside. No sounds could be heard, nothing seemed disturbed… except one bed by the far window. She could see his mop of messy black hair.

There she’d seen him. Ginny could now go back down the stairs and find her own bed... Except, again her feet pulled her towards him.

Ginny stood beside his bed, taking in the man before her. He lay on his back, seemingly dead to the world. Hell, if Ginny hadn’t seen his chest rise and fall she might have thought he was truly dead.

Harry Potter is dead.

The words came back to her with the sharpness of a knife, making her breath hitch. Fuck… hearing those words… The way it had echoed all around her. Never before had words suffocated her, but as she’d stood beside her brothers in the Great Hall and Voldemort’s cruel voice reverted off the stone, Ginny had lost her ability to breath… to think.

“Gin?”

She blinked rapidly, forcing tears she hadn’t known about, to fall down to her cheeks. Her focus fell onto his eyes. The eyes that had come haunted her dreams. His brow was creased as he blinked up at her.

Ginny swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. “Hey.”

Hey… that was the first thing she said to him after so long! Ginny wanted to smack her forehead, but Harry simply smiled at her.

“Hey.” He started to sit up, but Ginny’s hand shot out to land on his chest stopping him.

“Don’t move, you’ve got to be tired.”

He blinked at her, his breathing labored. After a second he leaned back onto his pillows, his chest rising high with every breath under her palm. They stared at each other, neither seeming able to break the silence between them. Hell, all Ginny could do was drink him in. Take in every bit of him… there… alive.

Harry’s gaze took on a new intensity… something about it Ginny couldn’t place, but it still sent shivers down her spine.

“Ginny,” Her name on his lips is what did it. It broke the dam that had been holding back everything in Ginny’s chest. A sob rose into her throat and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Then another and then she was crying as she stood there beside his bed.

Before she could even try to regain her composure, Harry had taken her hand and tugged her into him. Her body covered his as he held her close. His fingers caught in the knots matting her hair, but Ginny could feel the pain. No, she was consumed by the truth of all that had happened. The fact that her brother was dead, Voldemort was gone, that Harry was there with her. Her face fell into the crook of his neck, tears dampening his skin.

“Shh.” His murmur vibrated in his chest, his fingers still brushing the knots out of her hair. “Ginny, shh.”

“Holy hell, Harry,” Ginny spoke through her sobs, her words muffled. “Holy fucking hell.”

“I know, love.” His voice was comforting, though she could feel the tremble in his chest. “I know.”

She breathed in deeply, trying to control the rapid emotions. Blood, sweat, and dirt all came to her senses. But most of all she smelled him. Harry. His naturally woodsy scent that brought her back to warm sunny days around the lake. How a smell could make her feel so… safe made no sense to her, but with every inhale she was able to breathe a little better.

Her chest hurt as the sobs slowed and the tears trailed off. She breathed in one more shuddering breath before pulling away from Harry’s neck. Harry was silently crying, tear tracks stained his cheeks. His eyes were focused on the ceiling as he tried to silently handle his grief while comforting her. Ginny’s heart broke for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Her hands came up to cup his cheeks, her thumbs wiping the dampness.

His eyes came back down, locking onto her hers. The way his bottom lip quivered made Ginny’s chest tighten. “Oh, Harry.” She pressed her lips to his trembling ones. She could feel his breath hitch as their lips connected. There was so much pain… so much anguish... But in that moment Ginny didn’t feel any of it. She only felt him, the way his lips felt against hers.

It wasn’t passion driving them, but a need. A need for each other, for solace, that she could only seem to find in him.

They broke apart slowly, her forehead coming to rest on his. Ginny’s body felt as if it weighed a million tons. With the last of her strength, she rolled to her side, bringing Harry with her so they lay side by side facing one another.

Her eyes started to close on their own accord, between the comfy mattress and Harry’s warmth Ginny thought she might sleep for a year.

“Ginny, there is so much —” Her eyes opened to see Harry’s wide green ones. He looked so overwhelmed. “I need to tell you — Everything. I need to tell —”

She placed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. “It can wait.” Her lips replaced her finger. “Just sleep, at least for tonight. Just sleep.”

#hinny #Harry Potter #Harry and Ginny #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fan fiction #harry X ginny #At Least For Tonight Part II

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jonthethinker · 4 years

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I imagine that, for most of her life, Beauregard Lionett has been the living embodiment of a clenched fist.

The life she could have had, had her father not been the man he was, had he not lay the full weight of his expectation and vision and above all paranoia on the slender shoulders of his only daughter, is a question worth exploring. Beau in the present is full of energy and always craves activity and stimulus, and it’s not hard to imagine that’s how she was as a child; many a grass-stained dress, I’m sure, and I tend to think she was the sort of kid to dig holes just to see what she could find, curiosity unbounded even at an early age.

If her energy had been redirected instead of squashed, if her curiosity had been rewarded instead of reprimanded, if her cleverness had been sharpened instead of scolded, Beauregard Lionett may have been on the path to become the most renown vintner in all of Wildemount. But instead what her future held in store for her was white knuckles.

The picture painted by the wonderful Marisha Ray of the life of Young Beau is one of a desperate fight for agency, and denial and defeat in this quest at every turn. With her bright mind, she attempts to create a new path for the family brand to take, but is rejected outright by her father. So what does Beau do in response? In typical Beau fashion, she says fuck you and begins to bootleg the family wine right under her father’s nose. I think this was in part to obviously get one over on her father, but also to prove to herself that she could in fact sell the wine better. This is a feature of Beau’s personality that pops up over and over; her need to prove to herself and others her own value. I have no doubt that Young Beau tried so hard to impress her contacts in the small world of underground wine bootlegging, just to get some sort of validation or affirmation, and no doubt that this was used against her again and again, her nails digging ever deeper into her palms.

Of course her father finds out, and she is cast away; exasperated that his daughter isn’t planted firmly under his thumb like any good heir would be, he ships her off to the Cobalt Soul, where perhaps they can teach her some discipline, all the while believing that it was her that failed him and not the other way around.

In some respect, no crueler fate could have been bestowed on Beau than to end up at the Cobalt Soul, and I’ll explain why. Beau at her core is a bright, energetic, curious person. If Beau had been given the actual choice to go to the Cobalt Soul of her own will on the onset of her teenage years she would have jumped at the chance. Learning and fighting and exploring are the sort of thing Young Beau would have loved. But she is forced to go, after being ostensibly disowned by her family, all the while knowing that to all her potential mentors, the label of Problem Child is dangling from her neck; she was not sent there as a budding mind to be fostered and cultivated, but as a problem to be solved.

She pays attention to her classes, but she can’t afford to show any enthusiasm, or else she’s admitting defeat; Beau always loses on her own term, and at this point she was very used to losing. The tension in her shoulders builds and builds as she contemplates how poorly all the monks must think of her, her behavior getting worse and worse just so she has some sort control over her life; she can’t help but be the chained up dog she is, but goddammit you’re going to know she’s there. That she can do. And finally the thrashing against the chain causes it to break, and she realizes she can leave, and so she bolts, and doesn’t stop running until she slams full speed into the Mighty Nein.

Beau is my favorite character for many reasons, but a big one is that she plays into the archetype of “Character Who Cares So Much But Can’t Afford To Show It”, only matched in my heart by “Character Who Can’t Even Begin To Hide How Much They Care”, ironically also played to by Marisha Ray in the form of Keyleth.

From the moment we meet her in the tavern with Jester and Fjord, it is clear upon reflection that she already cares so much. She stuck to those two like peanut butter on bread almost immediately, and it becomes very clear when you discover how afraid she was that they were going to leave her behind. For her entire life, all Beau wanted to be was acknowledged and accepted, to not be so goddamn alone all the time. And here was her chance to have that, and so she held on like her life depended on it. In some ways, it did.

I don’t think the tightness of her spiritual fists really loosened until Nicodranas. Before that the Doubt was always there that the rest of the Nein would come to grips with how much of a problem she really was and get rid of her, and who could blame them in her eyes; she was just someone who didn’t fit, and that was her fate. But they didn’t. As time went by they just seem to pull her closer. And then the Iron Shepards happened, and that’s when she knew for sure; she loved these people, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for them.

And then... Mollymauk dies, and it forces Beau to reckon with the ugly bitterness she had allowed to consume her mind, and that she had more options than breaking. She could be a builder. She could build something good. With the Mighty Nein by her side, she could do anything, even be good. They arrive at that beach in Nicodranas, the grief of losing Molly easing on her heart, and for the first time in her entire life, she feels safe, lightness replacing her usual heaviness, her shoulders relieved of their usual tension, and finally she can, for a moment or two, go to that place in her mind the Monks always talked about.

But after a long period of security, her hands form that familiar shape again at the prospect of her worst fear coming to fruition; slowly losing the Nein. Nott was going to get her body back, and was possibly going to go back to her family. Which makes sense; it’s why she is here in the first place. But it reintroduces the idea that the family she’s built for herself could slowly come apart as each of its members finish their quest and find their place. But the Nein is Beau’s quest, it is her place.

Suddenly they’re back in Kamordah, and her old wounds seem to get torn back open all at once, and Beau loses her footing, spiritual eyes clenched, shoulders tight, and fists balled up, bracing herself for what surely had to follow. They meet the Hag, an awful creature who preys on misery, who was feeding on Nott, Beau’s chosen sister, and she wanted a deal to free her, to replace misery with misery. And things began to click into to place. This is what this was all building up to, wasn’t it? This is what it was all for. Molly was there to teach her that she could do good, and here was her chance. All it would cost is everything. Everything she never deserved. She was going to go back to losing on her terms, just as it should have always been.

One unexpected Cupcake later, and that idea of martyrdom is entirely thrown out the window. This is the part of the movie where the record scratches. This was not at all how things are supposed to go. Things were supposed to fall apart. And now the newly returned Veth has her doubts about putting the Adventurer’s Life behind her. And Cad’s family is saved and home restored and he’s decided to stick around anyway. WHAT IS GOING ON?!! Here Beau was matching the pairs in hand thinking she was playing Poker only to be playing Uno all along.

I have no idea where Beau’s head is right now, but she seems to be sliding back into the Beau we’re so proud of. I don’t know if this is just the calm before Marisha rips all of our hearts out, or if Beau has just decided to enjoy the Mighty Nein for what it is while she has it. But I know her knuckles have some color again, and for that I’m grateful.

#Critical Role #Beauregard #Beauregard Lionett #cr spoilers #the mighty nein #Marisha Ray #long post

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years

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Careless

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is inspired from a request of my F.R.I.E.N.D.S Themed Prompt List.

Prompts: 13, 19 & 23

"I'm so happy and not at all jealous."/"We had a deep and meaningful relationship/What was their last name?"/"I thought it mattered what I said or when I said it. Then I realised, all that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be."

Warnings: Swearing. War Scene - blood & injury. Angsty.

Y/n was trouble with a capital T. She was daring, confident, snarky and a massive Quidditch fan. In other words; she were Fred Weasleys perfect woman.

But it's not what you think, they were just friends. Chaotic, hell raising, perfect-for-each-other friends.

With the Twins and y/n around Hogwarts it were remarkable the Castle were still standing. But not for their lack of trying. After an especially careless prank, which left the Gryffindor Common Room with a new window, it's safe to say the threesome were there for one another through thick and thin.

Pranks however, weren't the only area in which Y/n, and Fred for that matter, were careless.

Both had the tendency to be rather frivolous in romantic relationships. It seemed like every other week the pair had a new partner on their arm. George liked to joke that, of all the people left in their age group, the only people they hadn't 'had a round' with were each other. The rumours, jokes or insults to character never bothered them though. They were young and weren't looking for anything serious - so what's the harm in having a little fun? That was y/ns reasoning anyway. It had been Freds as well...in the beginning. Until he were struck with a rather bracing realisation.

The reason why he rushed so fast into new relationships without a care wasn't so much 'for the fun of it' or genuine interest in the other, but denial. He were running and burying his head in the sand, or rather the bedsheets - as it were, to distract himself from the very chilling reality that he was desperately, hopelessly and unequivocally in love with his best friend. With y/n.

So after that particularly bitter pill to swallow, Fred's relations became a means to an end. A means of getting over her. Of finding someone to replace her.

It never worked, of course, because no other girl was her. No one made him laugh or smile like her. Nor did anyone get his heart racing like she did.

He did everything he could to bury his feelings; under piles of work, copious amounts of alcohol and an abundance of meaningless sex, and it genuinely seemed to be working...until the War came.

That walk into the Great Hall after the initial Battle is one Fred would never forget.

The smell; of death and destruction. The way his body ached and longed to rest.

Slowly limping through the destroyed arched doorway, accompanied by Percy - who's shoulders he'd drapped an arm across seeking support. They were talking with one another, throwing around light-hearted brotherly insults here and there, which helped keep Freds mind off the immense pain surging through his leg at the time, small smiles adorning their faces.

That's when they heard it.

A blood curdling scream. One of pure agony.

Their eyes shot directly to the source, on the far side of the room - where all the Weasleys were gathered around a body. A girls.

Arthur was holding tight onto Molly as she sobbed uncontrollably. Ron stood on the outskirts pale and afraid, while Bill and Charlie had a hold of Ginny in attempt to shield her. Fred's gaze flickered to where he saw George had knelt beside the body.

He was gripping one of her hands as his other tried desperately to keep her still on the floor while she writhed and cried out in pain.

She were covered in blood as Madam Pomfrey worked frantically to mend the severe wounds in her abdomen, where shards of debris protruded from her flesh.

The cry had been caused from the extraction of a particularly large shard, of what Fred didn't know.

George was running a tender hand over y/ns head, gently stroking her hair and the sides of her face as he whispered soothing sounds and comforting words in her ear.

Fred didn't know how long he'd stood there, staring in shock, he'd felt petrified - numb to everything but the fear coursing through his veins. Till suddenly his feet were moving.

A first painful step, which nearly crippled him, was followed by an equally sore but determined second. Then a third, and before he knew it he was running. Sprinting as fast as he could regardless of the pain it inflicted, nothing could stop him from reaching her side.

Barging past friends and family members he collapsed on Georges otherside. Eyes raking the ever paling and blood covered woman laid before him. George was shaking as he looked to his brother with tear-filled eyes but Freds stare was unwavering.

Somehow mustering the strength he spoke the only words playing through his mind, "What can I do?" His eyes never left y/ns wound, above which Pomfreys hands hovered as she worked.

"Fred?" Y/n cried through deep breaths, her head turning to the side in an attempt to see him. "I'm here, Sweetheart." He placed a hand to her knee. Her eyes were screwed tight shut as she threw her head back against the hard, cold floor. Tears parted tracks through the thick dust and muck plastered to her cheeks as she clenched her jaw inhaling sharply as the next piece of debris was removed - a relatively small piece in comparison to the earlier one. George continued to soothe his friend as Pomfrey instructed Fred on what to do.

They wished everything had gotten better from there. That after they successfully removed all the debris and stopped the blood from further pouring from her body that she'd been able to recover simply. But news only seemed to get worse once they reached St Mungo's.

She'd fallen into a coma. Y/n had suffered severe internal injuries and the Healers never held out much hope that she'd survive.

Y/n always was full of surprises.

She'd come out of her coma and began showing signs she could yet make a recovery. No one could have possibly anticipated the day healers would begin talk of rehab. They considered it a miracle she were even breathing.

Naturally the Twins were there every step of the way. Especially Fred. There were whole nights, even before she'd regained consciousness, where he'd spend every minute by her bedside. Nights he'd spend working tirelessly in the shops office to perfect ideas they'd concocted to help ease and enhance y/ns physical therapy. Inventions that worked so well Healers from all over were lining up to get their hands on, after seeing how successful y/ns recovery were as a direct result of their products. Hell, most days you couldn't even tell she'd been through a war - her scars the only physical reminder, to the untrained eye.

There were no doubt left in Freds body after that. He loved her with every part of his soul and that was never going to change, and so his involvement in the dating scene became virtually non-existent.

Y/ns on the other hand...well some things don’t change.

She was given a second chance and wasn't about to waste it worrying about what 'could' have happened. Life were too short for that. She did, however, start keeping an eye out for 'Mr/Mrs Right' during her rendezvous'.

Fred tried his hardest to be supportive. Opting rather to love her from the sidelines than risk hurting their relationship by getting his hands dirty and playing the game. After Y/ns most recent conquest however his happy facade may officially be waning.

It was just past sunset in Diagon Alley and so Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, much like all the other stores, were going through their nightly closing routine.

Fred was working through the registers whilst, much to his dismay, George were left to the Twins least favourite chore - cleaning and restocking the store.

That's when the front door burst open.

"Evening, Boys!" Y/n announced happily as she strode into the store. "Fred! I told you to lock the door, lest the riff-raff barge in!" George called jokingly over the railing of the second floor. Fred couldn't help but smile, not looking up from the task at hand "My mistake!". Y/n scowled up at George as she hopped onto the front desk, "Like that could keep me out." Leaning over the counter top she placed a kiss to Freds cheek, "Heya Freddie". He looked to her, instantly finding himself on cloud nine, and leant casually onto the counter to speak with her. "Hey, Lovely. How was your day?" "Oh, I am so glad you asked!" Y/n said beaming as she clapped her palms against her knees, kicking one leg atop the other. "It was fantastic!" "Do tell." George spoke, decending the stair case, "What's 'fantastic's name?" He goaded.

Y/n glared at him playfully, "Think you have me all worked out do you?" "You know we do." Fred interjects. "Can read you like a book, Darling. You've got not secrets from us"

"Especially after our little incident during rehab, when I had to help you in the shower." George added with a teasing brow, this causing y/n to scrunch her nose. "Okay, George, that's talking about it when we agreed never to talk about it!" The Twins laughed at her embarrassed expression. "Anyway, 'fantastic's name is Mason."

Fred swallowed thickly at the news of, yet another, romantic partner but still he suppressed his distaste as he normally would.

The next 30 minutes or so were spent listening to y/ns retelling of how she met, Mason. About how great they made her feel. Fred couldn't help but envy the way the mere thought of them had y/n biting her lip in attempt to suppress a giddy smile. He'd give anything for her to look that way while thinking about him.

Fred had been quiet through most of the conversation, untrusting of his own voice not to give away his utter disdain at the news. Still he smiled when he should and convincingly feigned interested as she spoke. It wasn't until she began talking about her date, tonight, with them that he finally spared himself the heartache and stopped listening.

Later that evening, Fred was trying hard to keep himself occupied with thoughts on anything but the date the love of his life currently found herself on. As George and he just finished their own meal he'd taken to determinately cleaning the dishes piled within their sink - whilst George dried, a small habit the two fell into thanks to years of Molly putting the pair on dish duty after meals.

Unknowingly to Fred, he'd been uncharacteristically quiet for the whole evening. Something his brother had not failed to notice. "So..." he began breaking the long running silence of the night, "y/n seems pretty bent on this new bloke doesn't she?" "Mmm" "Never know this one may even last" George let out a breathy laugh as he prodded Fred's shoulder with his elbow, watching carefully for his reaction.

George wasn't stupid. He knew exactly how Fred felt, well before the night of the battle.

Fred's eyebrows quirked, lips parting as he clicked his jaw, visibly unsettled by his Twins topic of discussion.

"You okay, Freddie?" "Yeah. No, they sound great. Absolutely perfect. He's bloody 'Mr Fantastic'" His voice was laced with attitude and sarcasm as he spoke.

Finishing washing the final glass Fred throws the dish sponge against the back wall of the sink harder than intended in his frustration. "Easy there mate, get you're not happy but don't take your jealousy out on the poor bloody sponge" George picks it up from where it'd landed, mockingly shielding it from his brother with an overly concerned expression. "What are you on about?" Fred sneered defensively, "I'm so happy and not at all jealous."

"Sure you are" George replied with a look which read 'really?' "Yeah no, I get it. I'd be fine too if the girl I fancied was out on a date with some other bloke." He shrugged nonchalantly as he walked back to the living room, lounging comfortably across their sofa.

Fred looked to his brother as if he'd grown another head. "Don't give me that look. We both know I know." George rolled his eyes. "Well then tell me, oh wise and all-knowing Brother" Fred bowed mockingly, "what would you do in my situation?" He walked over with an expectant brow, perching himself of the sofas opposite arm rest.

"Oh, I dunno...maybe confess to the poor girl." "You say that like it's the simplest thing in the world." "It is, Freddie." "No. No it's not, whatever this is it's not simple." "It won't get any easier if you don't try. Here look I'll help you" George sat up eagerly, leaning against the back of the couch. "You be you, I'll be- don't give me that look. I'll be y/n. Tell me what you'd say to her." "This is stupid" Fred rolled his eyes. "Don't be a prat, just...go. I won't judge." "Right, cause that sounds like you." "Fred-" George warned. "Fiiiine!" He groaned which only caused his brother to smile cockily, satisfied he finally got what he wants.

Fred looked at his brother who flicked his hair and batted his eyelashes dramatically. There's no way he can do this looking at him. Rolling his eyes again he looked away with a scoff, contemplating all the things he'd say to y/n if he had the courage to.

"Well?..." "I don't know. I don't know what'd I'd say to her or where to start, I've never thought about it." "Maybe it's time you start thinking about it Freddie." George clapped him on the leg as he stood from his place on the couch.

He were half way to his bedroom before stopping, having just faintly heard the words whispered after him...

"I love her, Georgie." George smiles sadly to himself, only just turning his head he murmurs a reply. "Tell her that."

---

The store was closed for the day and Fred had choose to have a rather uneventful night in, and so he sat on the end of the sofa reading the paper hoping for product inspiration to strike. George on the other hand were getting ready to go out for the night when came a rhythmic knock on the flat door. No need to ask who it were as they let themselves in, per usual.

"Hello, Boys" y/n bounded into the apartment, flopping casually onto their couch with her head in Freds lap.

He lifted the paper into one hand to better see her smiling face looking cheekily back up at him. His own fond and loving smile shown back. "Hey, Freddie" "Hey, Gorgeous." "HELLO, GEORGE?" She shouted listening intently for his response, "YEAH YEAH, Hello freeloader!" He yells back causing her smile to grow.

"You seem awfully happy, have a good day?" Fred asks as he begins to softly run his hands through y/ns hair out of a developed habit from all their late nights at Hogwarts. "Yeah it was good, just went out with Mason. We had a nice time but I'm just happy to be here with you losers." "Losers? How flattering" George calls from his bedroom. "Oh" at the mention of y/ns partner, Fred puts an end to his hands actions. Turning his attention pointedly back to the paper he'd been reading previously. "And how is 'Mr Fantastic'?" He sneers. "Yeah great...I think. I don't know, he sorta got carried away talking about work. Barely got a word in myself." Y/n chuckles fakely. Sensing her pent up reservations Fred can't help but resume his earlier actions, stroking her hair, but still his eyes stay on the page in front of him. Even if he can't seem to read a single word - too focused on the warmth y/ns body provides pressed against his. Wishing this were how he could spend every night, wrapped up on the couch with her in his arms.

"Alright, children!" George emerges from his bedroom, "I'm off. Don't destroy the place while I'm gone." "Oh that's right!" Y/n sits up excitedly to peer over the back of the sofa. "Tonights the big date" she rests her chin atop her arms as they fold over the backrest looking to George as he collects his wallet and keys. "That's right, Dearest." He ruffles her hair as he strides past to the door, "You're not the only one around here who goes out." He winks before leaving, a quick 'behave!' Called over his shoulder.

Y/n lays back down across Freds lap with a warm smile on her lips. "So...what do you wanna do tonight?"

---

Fred was quietly thankful for George being out of the apartment for the night, the quality time spent with y/n were more than he could possibly ask for. It felt like being back in school, when they'd sneak to the Lake or Astronomy tower past curfew.

They were currently sat on the lounge room floor; a bottle of firewiskey and several stolen sweets from George's stash, scattered in front of them.

"I can't believe you just called me a slag!" Fred shouts as y/n laughed loudly. "W-well it's true." She shrugged, speaking through poorly restrained giggles. "Need I remind you of your time spent with Alice?" "Hey! We had a deep, and meaningful relationship." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah!" "What was her last name?" Freds mouth opened in retort before swiftly closing. Eyes blankly scanning the room in search of the answer before realising he didn't have one. He nodded and shrugged in acknowledgement. "Point taken. Not that you're one to judge" he chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey before offering it to her. "Also true." Y/n accepted.

"When was the last time you waited until the third date?" "Honestly?" "No. Lie to me." Y/n rolled her eyes at his question. "Katie Bell." "Noooo...in 6th year?" "Yeah. Go on then, when was the last time you didn't just give it up?" "What, 'Honestly'?" "No. Lie to me." Fred threw an every flavour bean at her for the mockery. "Okay...Mr Fantastic." "Noooo..." "yeah." "I don't believe you." "What!? Why?" "Because you're whipped by the bloke! Surprised he even made it to a first date- OW! Hey, chocolate frogs are NOT for throwing!"

Neither were sure how this odd game of confessions began, perhaps somewhere around the half way mark on their bottle of Whiskey, but the embarrassing dirty little secrets they'd begun to reveal to one another had them both in hysterics as a result.

"So, why not?" "I dunno he just...hasn't got me feeling that way, ya know? Like, he's great, and we have a good time together - I guess. But it's not like this" she guestured between herself and Fred, who was listening intently. "I can't seem to relax and just be myself around him. He doesn't get me laughing till it hurts. Or make me feel safe and comfortable." Fred's lips parted slightly at her words, eyes dancing hopefully back and forth between hers which seemed to hold the same emotion his did in that moment. Was it possible she felt the same way?

"Or ya know, something less sappy." She chuckled, taking a drink from the Whiskey bottle and turning away from him. Whatever moment he'd felt was gone, and reality set in with the familiar bitter pill settling in his mouth which he refused to swallow.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the disappointment that began to creep in. Over her comparison, in wanting someone like him, but in the end, not him. Never him. A sharp breath left him before speaking, "Yeah, well, I ah- I have work in the morning so I'd best call it a night." He avoided eye contact as he stood from his spot on the floor, all joints painfully stiff from the lack of movement.

Y/n was shocked by his abrupt change in attitude. He were no longer smiling, and there was an edge to his voice which wasn't there moments ago.

"Woah, wait...what just happened here? I thought we were having a good time." "We were" y/n stood, taking a tentative step towards him "So, what changed?" "Nothing"

"Fred? Come on, sit back down...please?" She grabbed one of his hands holding it close to her chest as she pouted at him. For a second Fred caught himself smiling at her antics. But only for a second. He shook his head, pulling his hand back from hers and stressfully running it through his hair.

"I can't, love." "Can't what?" Her brows furrowed in confusion. "I just can't sit there and listen to you talk about us; me and him." He snapped looking away from her. "Why? What's that have t-"

"Because I'm fucking in love with you!" Fred shouted, turning back to y/n in anger. "I'm in love with you and sitting there listening to you talk about how I make you feel safe - and how you wish it were him - it's ripping my fucking heart out y/n! But I'm stuck. Because I can't move on but I can't have you. So I just sit here like an idiot, watching you jump from one relationship to another, waiting- hoping that you'll care. I keep hanging onto moments - like right there - thinking there may be the slightest chance you might feel the same way. But you don't. And I can't do it anymore...so don't ask me to."

"Fred-" "I think you should go." "No, Fred I-" "Please! Go."

Y/n stood in place, staring in shock as her body seemed reluctant to move. She were petrified - numb to everything, but the fear swimming within her blood. What would happen if she walked out that door. Would he ever let her back in, or was this it? What if she leaves and loses him forever - and he never knew...

She drew a shaking breath that seemed to give a modicum of control back over her body. Her eyes flickered over the expanse of the boys flat. It were always so cheerful and warm - so why did she feel so cold? Her body trembled as her feet began to move, each step more painful than the last.

As she opened the door every nerve screamed for her to turn back around. Her head turned to the side, mouth falling dry and lips parting to speak though no words came. But the tears did. Rolling sadly down her cheeks as the door sealed shut behind her.

She was gone.

Fred fell to the couch. Any strength that were holding him from the ground disappearing as she did. Slouched over his knees, elbows digging into his thighs whilst he ran his hands through his hair.

He let out a heavy breath, a small relief spreading in his chest from the weight that'd been lifted. But mostly all that came was pain and tears from the heartache he'd tried so hard to shield himself from for all these years.

There's no telling how long he sat there, furiously rubbing at his eyes as the tears refused to stop falling. Not till the familiar crack of apparation reached his ears could he fully hold himself high again. George couldn't see him like this, he wouldn't let him.

With the creaking of the front doors hinges Fred stood, clearing his throat and running a final hand across his puffy, tear stained cheeks. "You're back early, what'd happen you strike out?" He joked, turning only to be met with the equally teary eyes of y/n. Although hers held something else as well - anger. Fred felt cold. What was she doing back here?

"Where do you get the nerve?" She snapped. Freds expression screwed between a mixture of insult and confusion. "Don't you dare, for a second, think you know how I feel." "I do." "No. No you don't! Otherwise you would have realised that I fucking love you too!" "W-what?"

"You think you're the only one? That after all these years together; after all those nights in the Astronomy tower. After all those days you spent by my side as I laid dying in that hospital bed. After all your time spent healing me; that I haven't fallen in love with you?"

"Well...well WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING!?" "WHY DIDN'T YOU!?"

Freds mouth was open but no words were coming. He let out a defeated breath, leaning against the back of the sofa as the weight of everything set in.

"...when?" "I don't know when I fell. Only when I realised. Guess that was the only good thing to come from that evil, pink bitch being around." Y/n chuckled sadly.

"THEN!? you knew then?" "After your first detention. I bandaged your hand and we spent the night together in the common room. You fell asleep in my lap, that's...that's when I knew."

This was all so overwhelming. So much for the quiet night in. Fred stared fixedly at a point on the side wall in thought, lightly shaking his head, unsure of exactly how he felt or what to do. This was everything he'd ever wanted to hear and that scared him a little bit.

"Look, I didn't say anything because you mean too much to me to ever risk jeopardising what we had and I- I could never find the words to..." Y/n swallowed thickly as all emotion caught in her throat. Taking his hand tightly in hers she tried to ground herself within the moment. The action turning Freds gaze back to hers.

"I thought it mattered what I said, or when I said it. Then I realised, all that matters is that you make me happier than I ever thought I could be. I never want to lose that and if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel the same way. All you have to do is just tell me; what do you want?"

Fred watched as the tears welled within y/ns eyes the longer she spoke, he wondered how they ever managed to be so goddamn obliviously stupid, that neither realised.

A soft smile crept across his lips as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "All I've ever wanted...is you." Y/ns whole body relaxed at his words, head falling in relief. Looking back into his eyes she bit her lip to suppress a giddy, lovestruck, smile.

"You've always had me."

#fred weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #hp imagine #harry potter #fred weasley fanfiction

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stxrrywildflower · 3 years

Text

can’t help falling in love (four)

pairing - george weasley x reader

summary - you invite george to be your date to your sisters wedding

warnings - mentions of family/home issues

word count - 2.1k

series masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

waking up in george’s arms was something you were sure wasn’t going to feel natural.

but here you were, wrapped up in his embrace after waking up from easily one of your best nights sleep. it felt normal almost, like you had been going through that routine for awhile.

george’s stomach was pressed firmly against your back, head burried deep into the crook of your neck as soft snores escaped his lips.

his arms were wrapped around your middle, providing the much needed warmth you craved after the previous night.

the rememberance of yesterday’s events hit you hard; every word said at dinner, george taking you around london and your talk on the bridge, all the way to george's sudden casual nature when it came to sharing a bed came rushing back.

as comfy as it was, you needed to get up. the room you were in harvested far too many suffocating feelings for you to be in there for much longer.

but that brought up one problem; george. he was still, to your knowledge, passed out. you didn’t want to wake him by any means.

you slowly untangled your arm from his, making your best attempt to remove yourself with minimal fuss.

“no no no, not yet,” george suddenly mumbled, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you back down against his chest once more.

“george, we have to get up,” you spoke softly.

he shook his head at that, nose tickling the back of your neck. “for what? nothings happening until four.”

you paused for a moment, moving to run your hand across george’s.

“hmm i was hoping we could go get breakfast somewhere,” you suggested. “there’s this really good restaurant i went to as a kid but i guess if you want to stay in bed i can go on my own.”

george’s hands moved to hold your hips, turning you over in one swift motion to make you now rest face to face.

“hi,” he greeted.

you hummed, a gentle smile adorning your face. “hi,” you answered.

“how are you feeling after last night?”

your eyes instinctively drifted away from his. it was difficult to meet his gaze with such a difficult topic. george knew right away, moving to reach down to interlock your hands as a silent reassurance.

“promise you won’t laugh or judge me?”

“promise.”

your eyes averted from his once more. “it sounds weird but i think spending the night with someone was really good for me.”

george grinned. “i think it was good for me as well. who knew all we needed was a cuddle buddy.”

“well weasley,” you pressed your pointer finger to his chest. “if you wanted to get in my bed you could’ve just asked.”

george’s face turned a soft shade of pink, clearly blushing at your word choice. “y-y/n you know it’s not like that. i just meant that it’s nice to be with someone when i’m sleeping.”

“no no, i know. just messing around. don’t worry georgie,” you smiled, reaching out to place your hand on his cheek.

george’s hand reached to rest on top of yours, thumb stroking the back of your hand gently.

“so breakfast?”

“breakfast,” you confirmed.

the two of you got ready in a comfortable silence, getting out of bed a few moments after the end of your conversation. george was already complaining about his back, stretching back and forth in an effort to crack it.

you slipped on one of your jumpers, custom made for the quidditch team, over a pair of leggings. the red wool brought instant warmth.

“hey love? i think that’s mine,” george pointed towards the jumper.

you looked down, pulling out the front slightly to stare down at it. sure enough, there was a ‘g. weasley’ stitched right under the gryffindor crest.

“oh, must’ve mixed them up,” you mumbled, already moving to pull it off to replace it with your own.

george grabbed your wrist, thus preventing you from taking it off. “keep it on. it looks better on you anyway,” he spoke. you nodded, hiding your face at the casual compliment.

even in april, london was still pretty cold. it was barely above twelve celsius or fifty degrees. it was still too warm for snow, though rain was still the primary weather. today, however, it was extremely cloudy.

the house was entirely empty as you and george headed downstairs. you knew your sister was with her wedding party and your parents were probably out doing something for the wedding that afternoon. it was no issue, you were actually thankful to not have to interact with any of them.

“are we walking or taking the train?” george questioned before you left.

“it’s only a twenty minute walk. i’m not sure if the underground is worth taking but it’s ultimately up to you,” you answered.

“eh we can walk. i could use the fresh air.”

you hummed, grabbing your bag before turning to george. “ready to go?”

“absolutely. i’m starving.”

you and george walked with a comfortable conversation starting almost immediately. you pointed out little things from your childhood such as the local park you spent a lot of time at as a kid while george asked multitudes of questions.

as you were answering one of his questions about the neighborhood you passed, george’s hand slowly inched towards yours. your fingertips brushed more times than none before you finally made the interactive to just interlock your hands.

while the gesture was fairly new, it was far from awkward. george’s hand fit perfectly in your own, him even moving to sway it back and forth slightly.

“this is it,” you pointed out the little corner restaurant. “i’m not sure if the owners will remember me, i mean it’s been years but i still remember the food being really good. you’ll enjoy it, trust me.”

“no way, is that little y/n?” you heard as you pushed the door open.

“meridith!” you beamed, greeting her with a small wave.

“it’s so good to see you,” the owner started. “what’s the occasion? ever since you went off to school we haven’t seen you around much.”

“just back home for the weekend,” you answered. “brought my friend george with me. anyway we could get my usual special?”

meridith nodded, already ushering your over to one of the corner booths. you got your drinks, coffee for you and tea for george of course, before you delved back into your conversation.

“so you came here as a kid?”

“yeah. it used to be cress’ and i’s favorite. no disrespect to your mum but nothing beats the breakfast here. i just haven’t been home to have it since i’m always with you,” you commented.

george shrugged sheepishly at that. “hey, once you have your own hand on the weasley family clock, you’re committed.”

you smiled to yourself. molly had added you on a few years back once it became a normalcy for you to be at the burrow.

breakfast was mixed in with small talk, mostly about anything from school to, like last night, summer break. your finals were coming up as well and that always brought a new wave of stress. plus, the twins almost always came to you for help in at least one of their subjects.

you headed home after paying. george tried to but then again, he didn’t have any typical muggle currency.

there was still hours to go before the wedding at to be honest, you were dreading it. between everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours alone along with the strong possibility your relatives would question you and george on your ‘relationship,’ you just weren’t looking forward to it.

once home, george brought up the promise you had made the previous day about showing him something on the tv. you agreed, selecting one of the more simple movies in an effort to reduce the amount of questions george would ask.

his face instantly lit up as the tv did, going as far as leaning forward on his elbows to get a closer look. you smiled at his interest, throwing a blanket towards him before making your way over to the couch.

you spread the blanket over the two of you, pulling george to rest against the back of the couch. you leaned into his side, his arm already moving to wrap around you.

when the movie had finally finished, you actually had to go get ready. george frowned slightly, though he did perk up once more when you told him you could watch another later before you left.

due to your sister making her wedding a black tie/formal event, guests would actually have to dress up suits and long dresses.

you had a dress already picked out, it being your one formal floor length dress you owned incase of an event like this or something back at school.

george, on the other hand, was borrowing a suit from your dad. they were around the same height and it would fit well enough for the afternoon and night ahead.

“your suit is in the closet. i’m going to go get changed in the bathroom and fix my hair. meet me downstairs when you’re done?”

george nodded. “sounds good. i’ll see you in a bit,” he spoke, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss to your cheek.

with a flushed face, you grabbed your dress off of the hook before exiting the room. it took george a considerably less amount of time to get ready versus you; after tying his tie and running his hand through his hair, he was practically ready to go.

you had a bit more to worry about. you took time in styling your hair the way you preferred before adding your desired amount of makeup. once that was finished, you could actually change.

your dress was easily your favorite part. it was the color that looked best on you, having a deep v-neck into a skirt that flowed out. it was formal enough but by no means over the top.

after one final check in the mirror, you smoothed down your dress and you were ready to go.

“you’re not bringing fever fudge, are you?”

george’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice, product dropping on the table as his mouth opened slightly. he met you at the bottom of the stairs just as you stepped down.

“w-wow y/n, you look absolutely stunning,” george complimented.

you reached out to fix his only slightly crooked tie. “that’s all you georgie,” you replied, hands dropping to rest on his chest.

it didn’t take long for you to arrive at the venue, being a more local building your sister had chosen to get married in.

you greeted a few family members, mainly aunts, uncles, and cousins before you pulled george to your seats, partially rushing to avoid any unwanted questions. your seats were towards the back, though you still had a good view of the alter.

after everyone else slowly took their seats, the traditional muggle wedding procession music started to play.

the different bridesmaids and groomsmen started down the aisle. a deep pit filled your stomach once seeing them; as a little kid you always assumed you would be in your sisters wedding. there was a point where you even thought you could be the maid-of-honor.

george finally noticed your uneasiness during the vows. he leaned over, whispering a quiet, “are you okay?”

you nodded, reaching out for his hand before you could even realize. “it’s just weird.”

“weird?”

“i don’t know. i guess just seeing people talk about their future and love for each other is just kinda a foreign thing.”

george squeezed your hand gently. “that’s going to be you one day, you know.”

“really?”

“i’m sure of it.”

you shot him a small smile before turning your attention back to the ceremony just in time to see the exchanging of rings.

it only took a few minutes after that for your sister and her new husband to begin their procession out. like everyone else, you stood up and clapped to show your congratulations.

“well we have a few hours until the reception. want to go walk around town for a little bit?” you asked.

“uh yeah, of course,” he agreed.

george guided you out by the small of your back, manuevering your way through the crowd and out the main doors.

“you know i meant what i said earlier,” george spoke once you were away from the venue.

you shrugged your coat on, pulling it a little closer to you. “you really did?”

george nodded. “yeah i did. i know your connection to love is a bit complicated but you can trust me on what i told you.”

a smile passed over your face. you found yourself focusing more on the concrete of the sidewalk over your friend beside you. but you had to admit, his words did do some good.

“now come on,” george pulled you forward. “let’s go have some fun.”

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