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hbyrde36 · 8 months

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Shelter in Place (Pt. 2 of 2)

A Steddie Fic Part 1 here AO3 link

Written for @thefreakandthehair - Lex’s Spicy Six Summer Challenge!

My prompt was : Hurricane

WC: 5,703 l Rating: E (for smut in pt. 2)

Steve wasn't sure he’d ever slept so well, at least not since the monsters came into his life. He still stirred a few times during the night, an unavoidable thing really when you’re sleeping on a couch that is definitely not meant to hold two grown men, but each time he woke still surrounded by Eddie’s warmth and the scent of his skin, he was quickly lulled back to sleep by the comfort of it.

When morning finally came, Steve woke up alone. He didn’t think twice about it, there were any number of reasons Eddie would have gotten up before him. To get water, to pee, to relieve a stiff neck from the position they’d been laying in.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory of them being pressed so close together as he stretched, letting out a big yawn. He buried his face in the throw pillow Eddie’s head had been resting on and breathed deeply, sure that no one had ever smelled this good to him before.

A quiet clatter came from the other room, answering at least the question of where Eddie had gone. The kitchen.

His back was to Steve as he entered the room. The power was still out, of course, but luckily the cooktop was gas. Eddie was heating water to boil on the stove, and had some sort of system rigged up to make coffee, with a strainer, a filter, and a couple of mugs. Steve wanted nothing more than to walk up behind Eddie, wrap arms around his waist, and hook his chin over the other boy’s shoulder, but he stopped short.

That, he realized, was probably too familiar a gesture for this extremely new and undefined thing he felt brewing between them. Steve forced himself to reel it in. Yes, they had hugged and held hands last night. Yes, they fell asleep together cuddled up on the couch, but in reality they were friends now and nothing more. Even if Steve already knew that he really, really, wanted it to be more. He was skipping a step, they needed to talk about it. Eddie didn’t even know that Steve wasn’t straight yet.

He took a deep breath and pumped the emotional and physical brakes, remaining a few feet away as he softly said, “Good morning.”

Eddie visibly stiffened at the sound of his voice, which, in hindsight, should probably have been his first clue that something was wrong, but again Steve found it too easy to explain away. Not everyone was a morning person, and clearly, because he was still in the process of making it, Eddie hadn’t had any coffee yet. Plenty of people were grumpy before coffee.

“Hey.” Eddie grunted, with a half-turn towards Steve, quickly going back to his task without ever making eye contact.

Steve tried to go on as if everything were fine and normal, though there was a kernel of dread beginning to form in the pit of his stomach. He rummaged through the fridge for the half-and-half and pulled the sugar bowl down from the cabinet.

“Did you sleep okay?” He found himself asking, like an idiot. As if he hadn’t been there right next to the guy all night, but he had to make conversation somehow. Why was this so awkward?

“Yup.” Eddie replied simply, his second short and clipped answer of the morning.

Okay, Steve mouthed to himself silently. Something…might be wrong here.

Possibly.

He wracked his brain, wondering where things went wrong. He knew everything he told Eddie last night would be a lot to process, but he seemed to take it well enough at the time.

Steve busied himself with making breakfast, anything to keep from standing in the middle of the kitchen staring longingly at Eddie’s turned back. Out again came his trusty cast iron skillet, and in no time he had an impressive plate of cooked bacon draining on paper towels. He felt Eddie’s eyes on him as he cracked eggs into the pan, one handed, because how else do you crack eggs when a cute boy you want to impress is watching?

“I don’t think I'd ever get used to that.” Eddie murmured quietly, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

Steve looked up, grin already beginning to form before he caught sight of Eddie’s face. His eyes were guarded, mouth set in a tight, thin line. Steve’s heart sank, he didn’t understand. Did he go too far by staying on the couch with him all night? He shouldn’t have assumed that it was okay just because Eddie had fallen asleep on him. Maybe it made him uncomfortable, or maybe Steve was just over reacting. He fought to keep the smile on his face, hoping that if he acted like everything was fine, somehow it would be.

After divvying up their simple breakfast, Steve traded Eddie a plate for one of the cups of coffee. They stood at the counter, neither making a move towards the table. It wasn’t that weird, Steve reasoned at first, he often ate breakfast that way, but with each second that ticked away in silence Steve got more and more nervous. He had this, admittedly irrational, idea that if Eddie ate his food then things would be okay.

He sipped at the cup of coffee he’d been given and watched through the corner of his eye as Eddie did the same. Steve nibbled a piece of bacon halfheartedly, wondering if it was all in his head. No, the air between them was thick with tension, there was no way he was the only one feeling it.

Whatever the problem was, he wanted to fix it. He needed to fix it. Steve knew now that he wanted Eddie, and for a while last night he thought there was a chance that the other boy felt that way too, but maybe it hadn’t meant as much to Eddie as it had to him. That was fine, he would take whatever Eddie was willing to offer, and if that was only friendship then so be it. Either way they needed to clear the air.

“Are you..um. Is everything..uh. Is something wrong?” Steve stammered.

Eddie shrugged, and at first Steve thought he was going to leave it at that, but then the other boy pulled a face far more reminiscent of the way he’d glared at Steve when he first arrived, than the kind looks and smiles they had come to share in the evening.

“Oh y’know, Harrington, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like, It was one thing last night, in the dark. Emotions were high, you got carried away. I know how this goes. In the stark light of day though? There’s no way you’re okay with being that up close and personal with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.”

Steve cringed at the nickname, knowing he himself had used it to refer to the other boy before. God, he was an asshole. He was so confused though. It felt like he had been dropped in the middle of a conversation. Was Eddie mad? Did he think Steve was mad?

“I don’t understand, I mean. It's fine. I guess we’re both huggers? It's not a big deal, is it?.” Steve ventured, trying desperately to save this somehow.

Eddie rubbed roughly at his eyes, before waving a hand towards the living room. “I was only half asleep when you…before you got up to blow the candles out last night.”

Oh, Steve could almost feel the color draining from his face as he processed what that meant. Eddie had been awake, had felt him brush his hair back and probably knew he’d been staring. Fuck, that meant he knew Steve had kissed him. The tiny gesture had felt like a sweet thing in the moment, but now it made him feel like a creep.

He opened and closed his mouth several times, reaching for what to say and coming up with absolutely nothing. The longer he took to respond, the more closed-off Eddie looked. Leave it to Steve to ruin a friendship before it’s even started because he had to go and get a stupid crush on the guy!

Eddie scoffed. “Perfect! Exactly the reaction I thought you’d have this morning! It’s okay, Steve, I won't tell anyone what happened or any of the rest of it. Look, I think I'm just gonna go. The storm has let up enough this morning, I'm sure I can make it to the trailer. It’s fine.”

It wasn't even close to true. Rain still hammered down outside, relentless and loud even on the asphalt shingled roof of the Harrington house. The wind had slowed a bit, but it still wasn’t anything you’d want to be caught out in.

“No! You shouldn’t go yet. Not until it’s safe.” Please, I don’t want you to go.

Eddie shook his head.“You don’t want a reminder of your big mistake sitting around your house all day, so let me just do both of us a favor.”

“Please, just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.” Steve begged.

Eddie sighed, rolling his eyes while resolutely refusing to look in Steve's direction. “You got caught up in your feelings after sharing your trauma and shit with me, and it made you do some things you never would have otherwise. Certainly not with another guy anyway, and now you’re regretting it.”

“Eddie, I didn't say any of those things.”

“Your face said it for you. You looked full-on panicked about it not two minutes ago!”

“Yea! Because I thought you were asleep and you weren’t! Now you know I was looking at you and that I kissed you! God I'm so stupid, and such a creep!” Steve rambled, covering his face with his hands, unable to keep looking at Eddie when he was so embarrassed. “I kissed you without your consent, granted it was on the forehead, but still. I’m so sorry, no wonder you want to leave.” He was horrified with himself.

Steve felt the air shift around him, as if Eddie had moved closer. He held his breath, waiting for the other boy’s response. Whatever it might be.

“That’s what's bothering you about this?” Eddie crooned, his warm hands wrapped around Steve's, forcing them down and putting the two boys eye to eye. “You thought I wouldn't want you to kiss me, that I'd be, what? Upset about it?”

Steve gulped, nodding.

“I'm not, for the record, but why did you do it?”

The way Eddie was studying his face, Steve knew he couldn’t lie, couldn’t make up an excuse. Total honesty was the only way to move forward. It was almost as terrifying an idea as telling him about the upside-down.

“You aren’t what I expected you to be. I used to watch you at school, I didn’t know why at the time, although I think I'm starting to get it now. I thought you were loud, obnoxious, and ridiculous, and on closer examination you definitely are all of those things, but you also turned out to be this caring, funny, lovely, and amazing person. Not only have you made this storm bearable, but I had so much fun with you last night. When I freaked out you were so patient with me, even though I acted like a lunatic. You wanted to know what was wrong, and it felt like you actually cared about the answer. You listened. Then you fell asleep, or so I thought, in my arms, and I looked down at your face. It was like I was seeing you for the first time. You’re.. beautiful.”

Eddie released Steve’s hands. He frowned at the loss, but Eddie quietly shushed him as he cupped his cheek. Steve shivered and slipped his eyes closed. The first warm brush of lips took his breath away, but it was the scratch of stubble on his chin, something Steve had never felt during a kiss before, that drew a low moan out of his throat.

Eddie pulled back but didn’t go far, resting their foreheads together as he chuckled lightly.

“I’m sorry for assuming things and freaking out. I just, I thought you were..” Eddie trailed off.

“Straight?”

“Yea.”

“So did I until about 8 hours ago.” Steve admitted.

Eddie blinked rapidly. “And you’re just…okay with that?”

“Sure. I mean, I almost died a few months ago, and last year, and before that. It seems silly at this point to get worked up about being, whatever it is I am. I just want to be happy, and make someone else happy too, if I can. What difference does it make really, if that person is a guy or a girl?”

“Well, when you put it like that.” Eddie laughed, grinning widely before pulling Steve in for another kiss. It’s a bit rougher this time, surer, and more demanding. It leaves Steve feeling breathless and more than a little weak in the knees.

He would have been happy to stay there kissing in the middle of the kitchen all day, but Eddie insisted that they sit and eat the breakfast Steve had gone through the trouble to make, even if the food had gone a little cold.

Later, once the kitchen was cleaned up, the two of them naturally migrated back to the couch. Eddie laid against the arm of it with Steve between his legs, back pressed to Eddie's chest. He liked the way it made him feel small, even though he and Eddie were practically the same height. Steve liked being held, and found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to be the little spoon in bed. He wondered if he’d get to find out sometime with Eddie.

Neither of them were in the mood to play boardgames, or do much of anything but just be together. It should have been boring, laying there talking and sharing the occasional kiss. It was anything but. Steve hadn’t felt this settled or content in a very long time.

“Where are your parents, by the way?” Eddie asked, after a long period of comfortable silence. “You mentioned they were gone. I guess I was hoping for a heads up if there's a chance they could show up here soon. Don’t want to risk getting arrested if they come home to find the town freak in their house.”

Steve, who’d been playing with Eddie's hands, lacing and unlacing their fingers and twisting his rings around, stilled.

“You shouldn’t call yourself that.” Steve murmured. “No one else should either. I’m sorry, by the way, if I ever did or said anything…” He couldn’t remember ever personally giving Eddie a hard time, and given their current circumstances he probably should have broached the subject before now, but he hadn’t thought of it.

“You didn’t.” Eddie was quick to assure him. “Hagan hassled me more than once, but you never did.”

Steve relaxed, sinking further down into Eddie’s body and pulling his arms tight around him. “I’m sorry for Tommy then, there’s a reason I stopped hanging around with him and Carol, and it wasn’t because of the monsters and shit.”

“You're not responsible for other people's shitty actions, but thanks. I don’t mind the nickname though.”

“Why?”

“For one thing it’s true. I definitely am a freak.” Steve could feel Eddie’s smirk where it was pressed to the side of his head. “And it’s a hell of a lot better than the other f-word they could call me, so I figure, why not encourage it?”

Steve tilted his head thoughtfully. It made some sense, even if he didn’t like it.

“To answer your question, my dad travels a lot for work. He’s gone anywhere from a few days to a few weeks at a time. Mom used to stay home with me when I was really little, but by the time I was 5 they were hiring sitters so she could go with him. She didn't trust that he wasn’t out cheating. From 12 on I was mostly on my own when they would leave.”

“Sounds lonely.” Eddie guessed.

Steve sighed. “I used to pretend it wasn’t, but yeah. I was definitely lonely. It didn’t matter that my life was better when they weren’t here, what with my dad being the major asshole that he is, a part of me still wanted them around. I was just a kid who needed his parents.”

Eddie shifted, kissing Steve on the back of the neck and running fingers through his hair. “I get like that sometimes too. Not that my uncle ever goes anywhere, he just works nights, and with me being in school we live on opposite schedules. I know he’d be around more if he could though. We have breakfast together as often as we can. Well, breakfast for me, dinner for him, so we can keep up with what’s going on in each other's lives.”

“Why do you live with your uncle? If that’s…if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No, it’s okay, but I have to warn you that it’s not a happy story.”

Steve turned in Eddie’s lap so they were now chest to chest. He wanted to be able to see the other boy's face while he spoke.

“My dad got caught on a job. He used to steal cars for this guy who ran a chop shop in Indy. I guess he wasn’t too keen on the idea of spending another stint in prison, because he led the cops on a high speed chase that ended with him crashing in a ditch. The car flipped three times. The police report said they were killed instantly.”

“They?” Steve asked.

Eddie sighed, the sound held a strange mixture of sorrow and fondness. “My mom and dad might have been terrible parents, but they were disgustingly in love with each other. She rode with him on a lot of jobs. He called her his look-out, but I think they mostly just didn't like to be apart. It’s kind of fucked up to say, because it left me an orphan, but I always thought she was probably happy that they went out together. I got Wayne out of the deal though. He stepped up and took care of me, loved me like I was his own.”

Steve squeezed Eddie as tight as he could, burying his face in his neck. “Jesus, Eddie. I’m so sorry. I feel terrible for complaining about my own parents.”

“No, Stevie, don't do that. It’s not a competition for who had the saddest childhood, and someone else’s experience doesn’t make your own any less important.”

“Stevie?” It made him feel warm all over, and he couldn’t resist rubbing his lips over Eddie’s pulse point.

Eddie chuckled. “Is that all you got out of that?”

“No, I think I get it.” Steve did get it, and he was touched that Eddie wanted to make sure he knew his troubles were just as important as anyone else’s, but the pet name was really doing something for him, and now he was distracted with tasting the skin of Eddie’s throat. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

Eddie sucked in a breath as Steve caught his earlobe between his teeth. “Really liked that nickname, didn’t you sweetheart?”

Steve whined. It was mortifying, but he couldn't have stopped the sound from coming out of him if he tried.

“Oh, baby. I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

For what felt like hours, the two of them did nothing except make out. Steve desperately wanted to let his hands wander, to feel every inch of the other boy under his fingertips. The problem was, every time things got a little too heated, Eddie pulled back. Steve didn’t really want to push, he wouldn’t want to rush Eddie into anything he wasn’t into, or ready for, but he strongly suspected it was being done for his benefit.

The next time Eddie put a stop to things, Steve studied his face. His eyes held the same heat Steve knew was reflected in his own. They were both more than half hard, had been for a while, and there was no hiding it when they were all but lying on top of eachother.

Steve smiled, tucking a stray hair behind Eddie’s ear. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Eddie…” Steve teased.

Eddie leaned up, pulling Steve with him so that they were sitting next to each other, and took his hand. “This is new for you, right?”

“I guess, technically.”

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, as if even he didn’t like what he was about to say. “Are you sure you’re even really gay, or bi, or whatever?”

Steve wasn’t offended, he could understand Eddie's hesitation, even if it was a little ridiculous seeing as they had already spent quite some time with their tongues down each other's throats.

He cupped Eddie’s face and swiped a thumb across his cheek, encouraging him to open his eyes. “I don’t think I really care about labeling myself, at least for now, but yes, I'm sure. I know how I feel.”

Eddie blew out a long breath. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to freak you out or scare you off.“

Steve gathered up a little of his old cocky King-Steve confidence, and swung a leg over Eddie, straddling him.

“Do I look freaked out?” He asked, grinding down lightly into Eddie’s lap.

Eddie groaned, surging up to capture Steve’s lips with his own. He gripped him firmly by the hips and pulled him down hard, pressing their dicks together through the thin fabric of their sweatpants. Steve whimpered. He was painfully hard and aching, he knew if they kept going he could absolutely get off like this, rutting up against Eddie while they explored each other's mouths, but he wanted to try something.

Steve slid down Eddie’s body, sinking to kneel in front of him on the floor. Eddie tried to hold him in place at first, until he realized what Steve intended to do.

“Can I?” Steve asked, hooking his thumbs into Eddie’s waistband on either side.

“Fuck.” Eddie gasped, looking down at Steve like he couldn't believe this was real. He nodded, adding his hands to Steve’s, helping to push the pants down around his ankles.

Steve pushed lightly at Eddie's knees to part his thighs, allowing better access. His mouth began to water at the sight of Eddie’s hard length, red at the tip and leaking pre-come. His want for this boy was so strong that for a moment, Steve forgot to be nervous, forgot that he’s never done this before.

His lips parted as he leaned in, tongue darting out to lap at the head of Eddie’s cock. The taste was salty and a little bitter, but Steve discovered that not only did he not mind, he liked it. He moaned, sinking down to take the first few inches of Eddie's dick fully into his mouth.

Almost immediately Eddie’s legs began to shake. Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes, while bobbing his head at a slow pace, eager to see on the other boy’s face just how much this was affecting him.

Eddie’s lip was caught between his teeth, and his pupils were so blown-out that it made his eyes look black. He was panting, and his hand hovered a few inches away from the back of Steve's head, unsure of its welcome.

The thought of Eddie forcing his head down, and maybe making him choke in the process was not something Steve would have ever guessed to be a turn on for him, but fuck if the idea didn’t make his eyes roll back a little. He palmed himself through his pants, desperate for friction and a little relief.

He tested it out himself first, taking more and more of Eddie down his throat until he hit the back of it. He choked a little but didn’t gag, and that was all he really needed to know. He reached out for Eddie’s hand and placed it on the back of his head, hopeful that he would understand what Steve wanted.

Eddie wove his fingers into Steve's hair and gripped it tight, guiding him up and down on his cock. He hummed his approval, the vibration making Eddie moan and his breath stutter. Steve continued to rub himself through his sweats but it wasn’t enough. He shoved the front of his pants down letting his own cock spring free, and began to stroke himself in time with the bouncing of his head.

As Eddie quickened his pace and started to give shallow thrusts up into his mouth, Steve learned to relax his throat. He enjoyed the way he was not only pleasuring his partner, but giving up control to him too. It felt intimate in a way that sex had never been for him before.

“Baby, I'm close.” Eddie choked out, releasing his hold on Steve's hair, giving him the opportunity to decide if he wanted to pull off, or swallow.

Steve had been on the receiving end of enough blowjobs to know what felt good, and honestly he was so turned on by the whole thing that he couldn’t imagine letting up now. He pumped himself furiously as he hollowed his cheeks, sucking and and then swirling his tongue each time he reached the head.

Eddie tensed above him, and his cock pulsed between Steve’s lips as he came hot and thick down the back of his throat. Steve followed him over the edge straight after, his loud moans muffled in his still full mouth.

Steve eased off Eddie carefully, knowing how oversensitive it could feel after, and sat back on his heels for a minute while he relearned how to breathe.

Before he knew what was happening, Eddie had already hauled Steve up to cradle him in his lap. He tried to protest that he was a mess and there was no reason to get both of them sticky, but Eddie didn’t care. He pulled Steve to his chest and crashed their lips together, licking into his mouth like a man possessed.

Eddie broke the kiss only when they were both gasping for air. “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure if I'd be any good at it.” Steve admitted, suddenly feeling shy. He nuzzled the side of Eddie’s face.

“Good? Stevie, that was mind-blowing. I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

They were, in fact, a mess, and eventually Eddie agreed to move, if only because Steve started complaining about his shirt sticking to his chest hair. A shower was unfortunately out of the question with the power still out, but they had two perfectly good tubs full of water upstairs.

They decided to share the one in Steve’s parents room, it was big enough to hold them both as long as they let some of the water out so that it didn’t overflow. They took turns swiping a soapy washcloth over each other's skin, giggling when they’d find the other’s ticklish spots. Steve would have liked to linger, once they were clean, to relax and float in the other boy’s arms for a while, but the water was cold enough to break them both out in goosebumps.

It was nearing dinner time when they were finally dry and dressed. It probably wouldn't have taken so long, if only they could have stopped kissing for five minutes.

Downstairs, Steve began to cook, as Eddie padded around the kitchen, lighting every candle he could find as the room grew dark. Steve knew it was their only form of lighting, but it also set an undeniably romantic atmosphere, and he had to remind himself more than once not to fall too hard, or too fast.

Because he didn’t know what this was, this thing between him and Eddie. Was it just a fling, or an extended one night stand? The last thing Steve needed was to get his heart stomped on again by a pretty brunette with curls, but he was afraid it might already be too late to protect himself from that.

It didn’t help matters much that Eddie kept wrapping himself around Steve from behind as he stirred a pot of sauce, whispering in his ear about how gorgeous he looked when he flaunted his prowess in the kitchen. All he could do was hope that Eddie wanted to keep him too.

They ended the night sprawled out together on Steve's bed in nothing but their underwear. The house had grown increasingly warm as the day went on, but it was still raining too hard to open the windows. The heat didn’t stop Eddie from wanting to cuddle though, a fact which Steve was both grateful for and wary of. How would he ever be able to sleep alone again after spending two nights wrapped up in Eddie Munson? He should have put himself out of his misery and just asked Eddie what they were, what he wanted, but he couldn’t make his mouth form the words. Instead he turned, giving Eddie his back and finally fulfilling his dream of falling asleep as the little spoon.

Steve woke up first, happy to find Eddie's arms still wound tightly around him. He wondered what had disturbed him, thinking vaguely that he might have heard something like a car door slam in the distance, but the weight of Eddie's body collapsed halfway on top of his, was enough to dissuade him from investigating.

He had almost fallen back asleep when his bedroom door burst open.

“What the hell, Steve!” Dustin shouted, sounding appalled and indignant.

Steve tensed, he was facing away from the door, with Eddie behind him, but there was no mistaking that voice. Eddie stirred, and Steve hastily reached down for the sheet, pulling it up over both of them. He eased himself out from under Eddie and sat up, rubbing his eyes and tried not to panic.

“Dustin, what are you doing here?” Steve groaned. He knew the moment Eddie was fully awake, as he sat up too, resting a reassuring hand on his lower back.

“The storm is over so we came back early. I made my mom drive me over to check on you, she’s waiting out in the car. I wanted to make sure you and Eddie hadn’t killed each other!”

“Clearly we’re fine, Henderson.” Eddie quipped. He was trying to sound like his normal self but Steve could feel a tension in him that mirrored his own. They had no way of knowing how Dustin would react to them.

“This is so unfair! Eddie was my friend first!. Of course you had to go and usurp me, make him your boyfriend, and now both of you will only want to spend time with each other and you won’t hang out with me at all!”

Steve turned bright red at the word boyfriend, and had never wished harder that he had locked his fucking bedroom door. He looked at the kid and sighed heavily. “Can you at least get out so I can get dressed and then we’ll talk?”

“Fine.” Dustin said, stomping his feet like a toddler on his way out to the hall.

Steve glanced at Eddie. His eyes were soft, concern coloring his features. He didn’t know what to say or how to apologize for this. He felt like it was his fault that they got caught in such a compromising position.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Eddie offered.

“No, I got it.”

Now fully clothed, Steve stepped out to meet Dustin, leaving the door open just a crack behind him.

The kid didn’t give him a single second to try and explain before launching into interrogation mode.

“Is this why you wouldn’t Date Robin? Steve, are you gay?”

He could faintly hear Eddie snort from the other room.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “I won’t date Robin because we don’t feel that way about each other, we have both told you this.”

“But you do feel that way about Eddie?”

Steve bit his lip, knowing Eddie could hear every word they were saying. “Yea, I do. I’m sorry if that’s weird for you.”

“It’s a little weird, but not because you’re both boys.”

Steve was simultaneously relieved and confused. It was too early in the morning for this shit. “What’s weird about it then?”

“I’m just kinda surprised he’d go for you, to be honest. I mean, he’s so cool and you’re, like, our mom.”

Steve scowled as Eddie cackled from behind the door. He grabbed Dustin by the arm and marched him down the stairs, all the way to the front door.

He stopped before opening it, making sure his face showed how serious he was about this. “Can you promise me you’ll keep it to yourself? Hawkins is not really the safest place to be out, and it’s… really new.”

Dustin sobered, all kidding aside for the moment, and nodded. “Don’t worry, I won't tell anyone. You two can do that when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Steve ruffled the boy’s hair and gave him a playful yet firm shove out the door.

“You promise you’ll both still hang out with me?” Dustin yelled over his shoulder, halfway down the front steps.

“I promise. Now go, don’t keep your mother waiting. I’ll stop over later.”

Steve waited until Dustin was safely back in the car before shutting the door and heading back upstairs. He was nervous to face Eddie after everything Dustin had said. Panicked that his use of the word boyfriend would scare Eddie off.

All of the apologies he had at the ready died on his tongue the second he reentered the bedroom. Eddie leapt from the bed, quickly pulling him into his arms and kissing him deeply.

“So, boyfriend. Which do you think Dusty’s gonna be more mad about in the end, us dating, or me knowing about the Upside-Down?”

Steve grinned so wide his face hurt.

“Definitely the boyfriend thing.”

Tagging as many of my pt .1 rebloggers as I can 💜

@steddierthings @every-aj-needs-an-angel @kas-eddie-munson @haircarebfs @penny00dreadful @corrodedbisexual @connected-dots-st-reblogger @bat-outta-hel @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @manda-panda-monium @wrayofmoonshine @stedumpsterfire @archimedes11 @estrellami-1 @pinkdaisies1998 @cam-cat-writer @current-steddie-brainrot @nebulousboundsfloof @notegwy @didyoujustsaydidhejustsaydragon @pxningfo0l @seths-rogens @idea-less-author @poguestyleskye @gregre369 @pjoneedstherapy @nightmareglitter @berenwrites @multimediawhxre @bennys-burgers @7shrewsinatrenchcoat

#lexssummerfanworkschallenge #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #ao3 link

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audaciousanonj · 5 months

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Concept: the senjuchiha feud was started when the Uchiha blamed the Senju and their mokuton for a new disease that started afflicting Uchiha, yet never spread outside their clan- a disease where flowers started growing in the lungs of someone in love, and never stopped until the one they loved kissed them on the lips.

Many years later, Konoha jounin Obito starts coughing up flowers...

Anyways the real concept for this fic idea is Obito starts coughing up flower petals, is in denial for the first few moments and thinks "Rin? I got over my crush ages ago..." and so to test, he thinks about kissing Rin, and keeps breathing normally. Then, his mind wanders over to when he was a genin, taping over a picture of Kakashi because he felt weird pretending to kiss Rin with Kakashi staring at him- and he starts coughing. (Obito internally: that's what I thought you'd say you dumb fucking flowers.)

And like! if it was Rin then he could summon up his courage to ask for a healing kiss, probably, because at the very least Rin is a medic and if he just made it seem like a version of cpr Uchiha need sometimes then he could probably get away with minimal awkwardness, but Kakashi?? yeah Kakashi and him are friends now but Obito doubts Kakashi'd be willing to kiss him, and if Obito's gonna die anyway then there's No Reason To Tell Kakashi His Feelings.

But the hanahaki reaches late stages (ie: coughing up whole flowers) and Obito is clearly very sick, but Obito is saying it's just an Uchiha Thing, don't worry about it, Obito's dealing with it, so while Rin is trying to help Obito, Kakashi barges into Kushina and Mikoto's tea party and asks Mikoto bluntly if coughing up flowers is really an Uchiha thing and if so how do they fix it-

Mikoto's eyebrows rise, but she is willing to overlook Kakashi's rudeness under the circumstances. "Normally, I would not share clan secrets, especially not to such a rude request, but since it's obviously about Obito... Yes, some Uchiha get it when they're in love. The only cure is for the one they love to kiss them on the lips." Kakashi nods, murmurs a cowed "Thank you Mikoto-san, Sorry for interrupting Kushina-san" at Kushina's glare, and leaves to head back to Obito. Clearly, if his idiot teammate isn't going to say anything, then Kakashi will just have to take matters into his own hands and tell Rin himself that Obito needs her to kiss him!

So when Kakashi gets back, he says Mikoto-san told him what's going on with Obito and what the cure is- Rin needs to kiss Obito! Obito flushes and mutters between coughs that it wouldn't work, and there's a back and forth of insults as Kakashi agitatedly asks why Obito won't try it, which is broken up when Rin says that if it's not contagious she might as well try. So Rin and Obito kiss! and they break away to stare into each other's eyes... and Obito turns away to cough up more flowers.

Obito can't say "I told you it wouldn't work" but he sure is radiating the sentiment, Rin sighs sadly and says it was worth a shot, and Kakashi...

Kakashi is honestly not having a good time of it. Obito is one of his most precious people, somehow, and now he is sick and dying and Kakashi is strongly in the anger stage of grief right now. so when the cure doesn't work, obviously Rin did something wrong!!

...Which Kakashi says out loud. He doesn't know what Rin did wrong, but it must have been something, so try again! and when Rin and Obito shake their heads, Kakashi's anger and frustration and grief and need to do something boils over .

So he says "Then I'll do it myself!", pulls down his mask, and shoves his face against Obito's to give him an emotional kiss.

It's... honestly not the best kiss. Very wet, very forceful, and Obito wasn't expecting it at all- but he can sense the emotion behind it, and his face and heart feel warm... and so do his lungs, actually-

Obito shoves Kakashi off of him and turns his head away from everyone, and Kakashi just knows that it didn't work- but instead of coughing up flowers, Obito breathes out flame... and then doubles over to wheeze out the remaining soot, but his lungs are noticeably clearer instead of the wet and full coughs from the flowers.

When he's finished, Rin silently passes Obito some more tea, and as he sips at it, Kakashi turns to her and says "I told you you were doing it wrong."

#kakaobi #kakashi hatake #obito uchiha #rin nohara #naruto #obikaka #Kakashi: Geez Obito if you had just confessed to Rin in the first place we wouldn't have had to deal with all this!#Obito: facepalming #Rin: Obito I am sorry to say that you fell in love with a moron.

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edaworks · 24 days

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Wasteland Survival Guide: The Institute, Fusion Reactors, and M.I.T.'s Actual Basement

It's that time again. Periodically I make unreasonable longposts about Fallout-related topics (it's a good way to keep track of fic research). Today I'm tackling nuclear fusion, the Institute, and the real-world Massachusetts Institute of Technology's basement.

Yeah, Yeah, M.I.T. is the Institute, We've All Seen - Wait, What Do You Mean, "The Vault Laboratory?"

M.I.T. - the Massachusetts Institute of Technology - is a highly exclusive research university with a well-deserved reputation for hosting brilliant minds.

It also got its serial numbers filed off in order to host the in-game Institute. Why? Probably because of all the very real research into robotics, artificial intelligence, and power armor (no really). And because M.I.T. is actually doing now what the Institute tries to do in-game with nuclear fusion.

And, of course, because of the vaults in the basement.

You know what? I'll just start at the top...Read on below.

I'll be focusing on fusion-related research in this post, and comparing in-game Institute work on fusion to what's actually happening over at M.I.T. (We'll get to the Media Laboratory and robotics and AI and the, uhm, power armor stuff in a separate post. Or three.)

all actual M.I.T. researchers/faculty/students and/or nuclear physicists have my sincere apologies, I don't know shit about shit but I'm doing my best

I Didn't Sign Up for a Physics Class, but Okay

Here's the thing about nuclear fusion generators - y'know...the ones powering nearly** the entirety of pre-war in-game America?

Including self-contained, miniaturized reactors (fusion cores, fusion cells, microfusion cells, Corvega engines, assaultron and robobrain power supplies, recharger weapons, G.E.C.K.s, etc.) and full-scale reactors (powering vaults, the Lucky 38, the Prydwen (and Rivet City before Maxson Happened), missile silos, etc.)...?

We don't have them yet.

Of course we have nuclear power generation, what are you talking about?

Yes - but nuclear power plants currently operating use fission reactors! Fusion reactors, though? Well...

For the pre-war in-game universe, even more than for us, that fuel-to-energy ratio would have been absurdly important. Companies rushed to implement fusion for damn near every possible use, but waited until the Resource Wars left them no other choice. "No more (viable) oil reserves? Well, shit. Fusion it is."

Because of this, by October 23, 2077, pre-war Western markets were still somewhat new to adopting miniaturized nuclear fusion reactors.

For instance, Chryslus' first fusion vehicles - intentionally reminiscent of the absolutely wild Ford Nucleon concept car dreamed up in 1957 - came to market in 2070, less than a decade before the nuclear exchange.

As for the other benefits of nuclear fusion...Atom knows the in-game universe could do with less radioactive contamination:

It is no wonder the Institute wants to get the reactor in their basement up, running, and running better than originally designed.

Real-life M.I.T. is no stranger to running fusion reactors - they've been at it since the late '60s - but as it turns out, they are currently also "building a better mousetrap," and if they succeed they will be achieving all the Institute would hope for in clean energy production - without the moral deficit.

If nuclear fusion is so great, why aren't we using this technology yet IRL?

Because - and I cannot stress this enough - we are attempting to levitate bits of the Sun inside a donut to make really hot things boil water* so steam will turn a fan attached to a dynamo to power light bulbs.

*(there are two other ways to generate power using this heat)

Naturally...this comes with some complications.

We know fusion reactors can be the most energy-efficient form of power generation - we just need better reactors. That's where M.I.T. comes in.

The biggest problem right now is efficiency:

TL;DR - as of April 2024, all fusion reactors as a matter of course still consume more power to run than they are able to produce (meaning they do not reach "breakeven"). Many cutting-edge reactors also require tritium (very rare) as well as deuterium (very common) fuel.

We did not even see a fusion reaction that reached "breakeven" for power production until December of 2022. That reaction occurred at the National Ignition Facility in California, and their results just passed peer review in February of this year (2024).

Several in-progress reactors aim to improve on this, including ITER (the combined work of dozens of nations) in France, and SPARC: the new reactor under development by Mass Fusion Commonwealth Fusion Systems and M.I.T.'s Plasma Science and Fusion Center (PSFC).

Another big problem with this technology is that it involves plasma.

Plasma, as a particular song reminds us, is what the Sun is made of and The Sun Is Hot. That means plasma carries some very real 'we're-losing-structural-integrity, the-warp-core-is-breaching' risks, and we must jump through all kinds of hoops to work with it.

Why are we shoving the Sun inside a donut, again?

The most well-funded, well-researched way of smashing atoms together involves plasma and magnetic confinement fusion.

This shit is beyond cool. It may also look very familiar:

In-game, the Institute is trying to get what appears to be a spherical tokamak reactor up and running.

Bethesda's choice of reactor was no coincidence: M.I.T. operated the Alcator C-Mod, a spherical tokamak, while Fallout 4 was under development - but that reactor could not achieve "breakeven" IRL, and per Shaun's in-game dialogue, the fictional Alcator C-Mod couldn't either. (Weird given the miniaturized fusion devices everywhere in-universe, but okay, Shaun.)

However, M.I.T. stopped operating that reactor in 2016, a year after Fallout 4's release. SPARC, their planned replacement reactor actually has the sort of power potential we see in-game - and they aim to bring fusion power to market in this decade.

M.I.T., right now, in real life, is doing exactly what you're asked to help the Institute do in-game: build a fusion reactor that surpasses "breakeven."

What the hell is a tokamak and why does it look like half of a Star Trek warp core?

Your typical tokamak reactor is a great big donut-shaped vacuum chamber (the torus), traditionally surrounded by AT LEAST three sets of electromagnets (sometimes many more). M.I.T.'s design for the new SPARC reactor is a bit different, but let's start with the basics.

Why so many magnets?

Because plasma, being Literal Sun Matter, cannot come into contact with the torus containment walls or it will instantly burn through. (This happened in France in 1975. Following initial "well, fuck"s and a couple years' repairs, the logical next step was to publish a paper about it.)

The magnetic fields work to heat the plasma and provide current drive (keep electrons moving in a consistent direction through the plasma and around the torus), while also keeping it from touching anything, preventing a "warp core breach." I'll take a stab at explaining it but the Department of Energy probably does it better.

Meet the magnets:

Toroidal field magnets (blue, above): These enormous D-shaped magnets wrap around and through the torus, conducting an electrical current. This creates a magnetic field that keeps plasma from drifting horizontally into the containment walls.

Central solenoid (green, above): Inside the "donut hole" sits a massive, stacked electromagnet that generates enough electromagnetic force to launch two space shuttles at once. This heats the fuel to about one hundred million degrees Celsius so that it reaches plasma state, and helps "drive" the plasma current around the torus. (Radiofrequency or neutral beam injection heating/drive may be used as well for reactor prototypes aiming for power generation, because current drive from just the solenoid isn’t practical for continuous operation.) The central solenoid also creates another magnetic field called the "poloidal field," which "loops" around the plasma like a collar to prevent it from drifting vertically into the walls. The strongest central solenoid in existence was made for the ITER reactor...by General Atomics.

Outer poloidal field magnets (grey, above): A third set of electromagnets "stacks" up the outside of the torus, and helps maintain and adjust the poloidal field.

Together these three sets of magnets force the plasma to "float" inside the torus, shape it, and provide current drive. The stronger the magnetic field, the higher the reactor's power output.

Okay, and then what?

Given sufficient heat and drive/stability, the plasma fuel mixture undergoes fusion.

Neutrons released during fusion have plenty of kinetic energy (the kind of energy a kickball has midair before it hits you in the face), but no electric charge.

Since magnetic fields only affect negatively or positively charged particles, neutrons completely ignore the fields, sailing straight through and slamming into a "blanket" of metal coating the donut's insides. Neutrons passing into the 'blanket" lose their kinetic energy, which is converted to heat and absorbed by the "blanket." (ITER's "blanket" involves a lot of beryllium, which...behaves a bit differently IRL than it does in-game.)

Heat captured by the "blanket" is then used to generate power. For instance, a water cooling system can bleed heat from the "blanket," regulating temperature and creating superheated highly-pressurized steam to run turbine generators.

I notice you described a "typical" tokamak above -what's the atypical option?

Check out SPARC.

Its huge design departure is that it uses new high-temperature superconducing magnets (most existing types have to be cooled to vacuum-of-space temperatures using something like a liquid helium system to achieve superconductivity, which is a huge power drain) to create a monstrous magnetic field - and its size is tiny in comparison to its projected power output.

Neat. So why did you refer to plasma as a problem?

Well...between the heat and the neutrons, the "blanket," the "first wall" and all plasma-facing surfaces inside the torus take one hell of a beating:

"Neutron degradation of wall surfaces-" "Energy is released in the form of the kinetic energy of the reaction products-" In practical terms, that just means countless neutrons are doing THIS:

...but to the containment wall and other surfaces inside the torus, instead of to Batshuayi's face. And so:

Basically, this stuff breaks fast enough - and the only materials that don't break quickly are rare enough - to create a real barrier to commercial use.

And THIS is one of the problems they're working on solving in M.I.T.'s basement.

Now we can talk about the Vault. FINALLY.

M.I.T. is home to the Center for Science and Technology with Accelerators and Radiation (CSTAR). CSTAR's splash page announces:

Linear plasma devices? You mean like -

No, not like plasma rifles. Instead of weapons, we're talking about tools being used to solve the "plasma fucking destroys everything it touches" problem.

How does CSTAR do this? They've got CLASS. ...No, really:

This field is called plasma-surface interaction science, and if you want a really long but very informative read on how CSTAR's work helps move it forward, check this out. It involves the DIONISOS Linear Plasma Device - a "let's shoot it with plasma and see what happens" tool.

CSTAR also works to better undertstand how materials handle radiation damage, and how they behave after becoming irradiated.

And to handle this sort of work, one needs a...

The Vault Laboratory for Nuclear Science "combines high-intensity particle sources, precision particle detection, and a heavily shielded experimental area to create a facility for nuclear research in high-radiation environments." It contains, among other things:

the DT Neutron Generator, which is used in a variety of experiments, including radiation detector development (pretty damned important) and characterization, fast neutron imaging, and material activation (stuff becoming radioactive).

the DANTE Tandem Accelerator, which was "originally designed to produce high neutron yields for use in cancer therapy research."

And that is what's actually going on in M.I.T.'s basement: truth is cooler than fiction.

The takeaways:

Yes, M.I.T. really is building a revolutionary fusion reactor with parts from Mass Fusion Commonwealth Fusion Systems.

Yes, there really is a secure underground facility where incredibly advanced research related to nuclear fusion, radiation detection, irradiated materials, and degradation of materials due to radiation exposure takes place.

Yes, I really would spend eight hours researching nuclear physics instead of doing more dishes. Shoutout to @twosides--samecoin for tolerating my absurd hyperfocus on researching this.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk on what M.I.T. is really doing in its basement.

Tune in next time for M.I.T.'s Media Laboratory, and how it is related to real-world power armor, plus: the relationship between Langley, P.A.M.'s IRL cousin, and Vault 101.

** (Fallout is wildly inconsistent re: how widespread fusion is in-game and when it was developed. I mean we're talking a two-decade spread of inconsistency! And somehow the technology - first available to the military - was then miniaturized and made available to the general public before becoming widespread for commercial power generation? And somehow we both do and don't have impossible cold fusion in game? It's a mess. I reject this reality and replace it with a fish, hence this post. Also, I hate fission batteries. don't talk to me about fission batteries, "fission batteries" are small fission reactors but they are definitely not "battery sized" - the "fission batteries" in-universe are so miniaturized that they are more likely another kind of atomic battery like a radioisotope thermoelectric generator and those are subject to a law of diminishing returns as the fuel decays/not producing a reasonably useful power output after over 200 years due to the isotopes normally used/can be VERY dangerous if the shielding is breached or removed, and - you know what, that's also a whole different post.)

#actual insanity #fallout #fallout 4 #why am I like this #nuclear fusion #physics #institute #fallout institute #the institute #worldbuilding #meta #oneifbyland #wasteland survival guide

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vampytrc · 2 years

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Above Average Eddie Munson x F reader

Includes:Smut, hair pulling, choking, cum play, size kink, fingering, slut and name play, and foul language.

everyone in this Fic is above the age of 18. Viewer discretion is advised.

He was always the odd ones out, Never fitting in where ever he went. That he was Eddie Munson. A DND nerd who had his own club of other nerds. But passing over the fact he was a nerd and a freak, he was charming, and new how to lighten the mood if you were upset. You've always liked Eddie. Everytime he'd walk past you or look in your direction your heart would pound, and you grew very hot. He made you want to become bad. He made himself so known as the freak it make you shutter.

One day when you were drawing lewd images of the fellow freak, he walked over to you and tapped on your head with a pencil. "Hey?" He said looking at the paper his face and body was drawn on. In shock you looked up and his eyes met yours. His dark brown eyes and his facial features. You realized that he was looking at your lewd fantasies of himself on the page and you quickly hid the paper in embarrassment. "Yes!?. How can I help you..? " He showed you his report card and looked at you with pleading eyes. "I'm failing this class, and if I don't get my grade up soon I'll have to retake this grade.. Again. " he said shamefully. You glanced at his report card in horror as he had all Fs. "Dear god. " before you could say anything else he put the report card back in his pocket and spoke "Was that a drawing of me.? On your paper. " you froze in fear and replied with a nervous head shake. "N-no! It was. somebody e-else!. " you said hoping he was that naive. "Well. It looked pretty much identical to my face, and I'm not a genius but I'm pretty sure I'd know what I look like. " he said smiling. "I'm.. Sorry. It was. I was. Just. -" you're cut off by the sound of his laughter. "It's fine, it was a really good drawing. " he smiled and you almost died right there on the spot. "Well anyways, do you think you can help me with my school work?.. Like a. Tutor? " he asked with kind eyes, kind eyes that made the feeling of lust boil up inside of you. "Yeah. I totally can.! " you said confidently standing up and smiling. "Great. So how about we can... Start today? " he asked looking at you desperately. "Yeah of course we can. " you said smiling and blushing. "So my place? " he said pulling his keys out of his pocket. "Yeah sure. " you said as you followed him to his car.

He opened the car door for you and took you inside. "Mi casa es su casa. Make yourself at home. " he said smiling and walking into his room. "Thank you. " you said giggling and smiling putting your bag down and following him. "Don't mind the mess please, I didn't have time to clean up. " he said kicking stuff around and making a path for you to walk on. "It's no biggie. I have older brothers, so I know what it's like. " you said sitting down and putting your books on his Bed. You. The smart girl was sitting on. Eddie Munsons bed. The thought of that made you put your hands between your thighs and think of the things he'd done on this bed. "So where do we begin? " he said sitting down and picking up one of the books. "Well how about we start with.. ... Science! Let's start with science? " you said picking up the science book and opening it. "Yeah.. " he said blankly staring at you. He had such a fascinated look in his eyes that you couldn't help but look back. "So.. First. For science you want to.. " he leaned in closer to you. "You'll. Want to.. " he cupped your face with his hand and kissed you.

You were shocked but couldn't help but drop the book and wrap your arms around his neck kissing him and rubbing against his leg. "Oh~ fuck. Me. " you said as he pulled away and got on top of you. "Are you sure?. " he said with a serious yet lust filled voice. "Yes." You said as he kissed you and slowly put his hand down your skirt. He lightly moved his hand into your panties and started to rub your throbbing clit. "Augh~" you moaned as he did it so easily making sure not to hurt you while he did. He was so. Amazing. "Deeper. " you mumbled grabbing his arm and moving it closer to your entrance. "What was that Sweetheart? " he said putting one of his hands around your neck, letting his cold metal rings touch your warm skin. "Please. Go. Deeper. " you pleaded moving his hand right at your entrance. "Hmm? What was that slut? " he said tightening the grip around your neck. "Finger me! Oh god!! Please finger me! " you said gasping for air and he shoved his fingers inside of you. "Good little slut. " he said moving his fingers at a fast pace. The pace made you tear up and arch your back. You have never felt this way before, but he was opening your eyes to something brand new. "E-eddie. I'm gonna. C-.. " you're cut off by fingers going into your mouth and into your throat making you gag and cry as you came onto his hand with a loud scream and heavy breathing. "I'm not done with you sweet heart. " he said putting you onto the floor and on your knees. "Open wide. " he said as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out for him. "Good girl. " he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants taking them off along with his underwear revealing a very long and hard dick. "... " you were silent as you cooed at his girthy cock. He had to be about.. 11 inches. You were fucked. You had never had sex and only masterbated and his dick was ten times the size of your fingers.. "Look at me. " he yanked your hair and made you look up at him. "You're my slut aren't you? " ye-. " before you could finish his cock was in your mouth and he was face fucking you. The sight of his dick making your throat bulge made him harder. "Good girl. Good little slut. " he was gripping your hair with both hands and thrusting into your throat. You tried to make out words but only choking and gargling came out. He pulled out and strings of saliva roped on his cock. "You say something slut?. " "... " "No?. Good girl. " he plunged back into your mouth and pounded your face hard. His cock twitched in your throat and he rolled his eyes back and cum poured into your mouth and throat. He came a lot and your mouth was basically being filled with hot and thick loads of cum. He pulled out and you stuck out your tongue and showed him all the cum he let out into your throat. "Good girl. You look so pretty with my cum in your mouth. " he said running his finger down your tongue and putting it in his mouth eating his own cum. "Hehe. " you giggled as you swallowed and stood up sitting back on his bed. "So now we can learn about Science?. " you said jokingly as he kissed you. "Yeah. How about. Female anatomy? " he said smirking and opening the text book.

Authors note

Hope you enjoyed my story if you have any suggestions on another Eddie Munson story or another stranger Things character just leave your requests in the comments below 💖💗

#reader x eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #strangerthings #eddie munson fanfiction

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limalia · 2 years

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The siren - Kiera Cass

Hello, this is kind of a presentation to me and my new tumblr. Welcome, you're here to hear me talk and rate some books that I've read. You can agree or not, we all have different opinions.

Well, let's start.

THE SIREN

I started reading this book yesterday, and I finished it five hours later. I'm kind of a fast reader, but that's not the point. The first thing I have to say is:

Wow.

And not in a good way. I felt that I was reading a fan-fic, and not those exquisite well-writen ones, no no. A fanfic that is still updating with a lot of grammatical errors. Maybe that last thing was only an issue in the spanish translation, I hope so.

It had everything I don't like: insta-love, flat characters, a bad developed magic world, and a lot of time jumps. It was boring, I couldn't connect to anybody. The main character, Kahlen, was boring. She didn't have a good personality or one at all. Her "best friends" (that you can't guess when she loves them or when she hates them) were like side characters out of a random name generator and put into the story. They made my blood boil.

The love interest was the most stupid boy ever. He studied for like some months, then he lived with his cousin, then he didn't work, his parents died and suddenly he was the happiest person in the earth. Sure, to let your parents go the only thing you need is a girl that can't talk, because yes, they can't talk.

That kinda made sense, I'm not mad at that thing. The one point that really drives me crazy is that they're sirens, but they don't have tails. They can't swim. The ocean moves them and they only have dresses. And they have to live like that for 100 year, and yet nobody ever tried to runaway or something.

They had to serve the Ocean; when they sang, people drowned and the Ocean ate. It calls them when they touch water. So, if avoiding water makes you stop killing people plus some superpowers, why don't do it? I don't know.

And, for some reason, there are like only five sirens. The Ocean said is because it would be dangerous and they secret could be revealed, but, c'mon, if you're starving just get some more girls and kill them when you're done.

Last but not least (because i'm getting bored talking about this book) is the insta-love. She sees him. He talks. She thinks he's cute. They're together in his apartment. They're soulmates. That lasted a day. They were with each other for a day and they fell in love. Then, didn't see the other for like seven months and when meeting again for only ONE DAY he asks her to live with him. Uhm, boy, you a lil too fast... And let's not talk about the ending, yeah, too convenient.

Anyways, it's a fast book, it can get you out of a slump. Do not recommend if you like detailed, slow and well-developed story. It's for begginers, maybe. If you're really REALLY bored and want to try something that will leave you with a poker face (beacuse it produces you 0 emotion) then you should read it.

That's everything I have to say for now, I think. My first review is done and I'm really excited about the second one because it's a book that I gave five stars... Yes, I loved it, and I hope y'all love this ¿Blog? ¿review? ¿reflexion?

See ya-

Lia

#bookshelf #reading #booktok #book lover #bookworm #romance books #bookblr #kiera cass #siren #mermaids #lovestory #romantic #tiktok #usa #american #water #sea #oceanlife

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just-another-blog-of-fluff · 3 years

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A Cozy Evening

Word count: 2800

Warnings: just a sticky sweet little fluff bomb for you all to enjoy 😉

You were all going to have to wait for this til tomorrow but @writingfics-passingtime is just good at striking a deal to get things early so… here it is! A nice bit of fluff to contrast the ruthlessness she’s posting 🙃

This is part 3 to An Embarrassing Secret, as requested by @sweetxnertickle - I hope you enjoy!

Thank you to those who submitted plot ideas! I went from zero ideas to too many ideas, so now it looks like I'm going to have to continue this multi-part fic for a little longer

Read first: Part 1 An Embarrassing Secret, Part 2 A Difficult Question

Movie nights were quite common in the Avengers tower. It was a great way to bond with the team, gathering everyone in the same room for something other than saving the world from certain doom. Sure, the team did other fun group activities together from time to time, but there was just something so cozy and homely about curling up on the couch with a blanket in your pajamas and watching a movie while trying to stay awake.

It was also a great excuse to sit close to Loki.

You were feeling a little extra cozy tonight, putting on your favorite pajama shorts and t-shirt and wrapping yourself in the fluffiest fleece blanket you owned. Thrown around your shoulders, the edge of the blanket just barely grazed the floor as you walked. The fabric was soft as it brushed against the bare skin of your calves.

Maybe you’d been feeling a bit touch-starved the last few days. It had been a few weeks since you’d worked up the courage to ask Loki to tickle you (or, rather, he’d forced your hand, so you’d have no choice but to ask. The audacity.) Since then, you hadn’t really had the opportunity to physically be close to anyone. Sure, there was the occasional high-five after a skilled move on a mission, or after a successful sparring match, but outside of those moments you pretty much kept to yourself. It wasn’t in your nature to ask for affection, even when you craved it. So, you did the next best thing, and surrounded yourself with soft, fluffy fabric.

You were disappointed to find that Loki hadn’t arrived yet in the common room when you headed in to find your seat. Usually, you tried to time your arrival so you would get there just after he sat down so you could conveniently choose the seat next to him. Now, you had to rely on him wanting to sit with you; or, at least, you had to hope there were no other seats left in the room by the time he arrived. The god had you feeling like you were back in high school crushing on a schoolmate – it was both a terrifying and giddy feeling.

Choosing a spot on the open two-seat sofa, you lay down on your side with your head resting on the arm and stretched your legs across the cushions. If someone asked you seriously to make space, you knew you would do it without hesitation, but you’d be dreadfully disappointed that you weren’t sitting with Loki. Each time someone new walked in the door, you held your breath, hoping they would find somewhere else to sit. You were so focused on making sure no one besides Loki sat with you that you didn’t actually notice when the lanky, dark-haired Asgardian himself strode into the room.

“Move.”

You looked up to see Loki hovering over you, waiting expectantly for you to move your legs to make space for him to sit. Glancing around, you noticed there were still a couple other seats open, which made your heart flutter. He actually wanted to sit with you, he chose to sit with you. But maybe you wanted to push his buttons a little bit.

“Not until you ask nicely,” you bargained, smirking. His eyes flashed, a slight upward curling to the corner of his lips.

“Move, or else.”

You feigned a gasp, stretching your legs out a bit more. “So rude! You’re not making me feel very generous, Loki.”

The look he gave you next made your stomach flip. The intense, mischievous eyes… the barely-there smirk… you knew you were in trouble the moment the words left your mouth.

“Move, or I’ll make you.”

Becoming a bit flustered already, you pulled your blanket up over your mouth and nose to hide your boiling cheeks and shook your head, holding your ground. He looked down at you with an expression of pity.

The logical thing would have been for him to move your legs. Clearly it would be no trouble to him, with his godly strength. But when you tried to cross Loki, he had to make a statement. So, instead, he reached down and lifted you effortlessly by the shoulders, forcing you to sit up enough so he could slide into the seat where your upper body was previously positioned. You scrambled to sit up all the way, feeling very shy at the idea of laying your head in his lap, but as you shifted he snaked an arm around your waist and tugged you toward him to lean with your back against his side and chest. He grasped the corner of the blanket closest to him, dragging it across to steal some for himself. It was large enough to cover you both, so long as you kept your knees slightly bent.

“Comfortable?” he asked teasingly, his lips startlingly close to your ear.

“Mmhmm,” you nodded stiffly. Your face was on fire now, more than a little bit flustered at the position you were in now. Loki’s arm was still wrapped around you, his hand resting on the side of your belly beneath the blanket. It would have been incredibly comfortable, if it weren’t for your anxiety brain telling you that you couldn’t relax too heavily into him, or hewould be uncomfortable.

The lights turned off, the screen turned on and a film began to play on the television. The room fell silent, save for the sounds of the music playing over the opening credits. A few strands of your hair shifted with every rise and fall of Loki’s chest behind you, his soft breath fanning over your forehead.

“Are you certain you’re comfortable?” he whispered suddenly, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re quite stiff.” If you could see his face from where you were leaning against him, you’d have noticed the glint of mischief flashing in his eyes. “Maybe you just need some assistance.”

You let out a soft gasp when you felt his fingers suddenly graze against your side, tracing random patterns against your t-shirt. Your hand instinctively darted to grasp his tickling fingers, but you quickly released them with a rush of heat to your face.

“Loki!” you hissed.

“Yes? What is it?” His fingers began to sweep along your side again, maddeningly gentle. You bit your bottom lip, shifting a little to lean more heavily into him.

“Ok, I-I’m relaxed now,” you insisted.

“Oh, but I’m not finished yet.” His fingers found the hem of your t-shirt, curling up underneath it to ghost along the skin of your belly just above your hips. Barely withholding a shriek, you reached up to pull the blanket up over your nose again, clamping a hand over your own mouth.

His soft, barely-there touch was agonizing. Making things worse, you had to fight to hold in your laughter and squirming to prevent the others from realizing what he was doing to you. At best, they’d realize he was tickling you beneath the blanket, and they’d tease you for it later. At worst, they’d think… well, their minds may stray elsewhere. Neither option was one you were willing to risk. But gods, if it didn’t make every swipe of his fingers tickle ten times more knowing you had to try not to react to his touch.

And, if you were being honest with yourself, this was exactly what you needed to cure your touch-starved mood.

It was quite the dilemma you were in. Allow him to continue with this sweet torture and risk your reactions giving something away to the others. Or, tell him to stop and feel the inevitable sense of loss when he obliged. The choice was obvious – you had to risk it.

When his fingers traveled up to the skin in the middle of your belly, right above your bellybutton, you began to reconsider your life choices.

Your abdomen twitched helplessly under his fingers, shoulders shaking in silent, breathy laughter. A sudden burst of air from his nose told you he was enjoying himself, laughing as he tore you to pieces with the mere flick of his fingertips against your bare skin. You weren’t even sure what movie they’d put on, and you didn’t care. The only thought in your brain right now was trying to contain your reactions despite your desperate desire to giggle out loud.

“P-please,” you whispered in desperation.

“Please what?”

“M-move s-somewhere e-else,” you pleaded.

“Alright.” You let out a slow breath as he slipped his hand out from beneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your reprieve was short-lived, though, as his fingers wrapped around your side and began lightly pinching and kneading rapidly. You couldn’t help but let out the tiniest of squeals, moving your other hand on top of the first to cover your mouth with both hands. “What’s wrong, love? You’re awfully jittery this evening.”

You couldn’t curse at him with your hands over your mouth, so instead you reached out with one hand to grasp his forearm and squeezed, trying to distract yourself from the agonizing sensation.

“Oh – I’m sorry, does this tickle?” he whispered in your ear. You turned your head slightly to throw a wide-eyed glare in his direction, startling yourself with the proximity of his face to yours. He responded with a widening smirk, his fingers beginning to ascend toward your ribcage. Shaking your head wildly, you pushed down against his forearm, trying to prevent his tickling fingers from crawling any higher. “Why are you fighting this? I thought you liked it.”

“Loki-eep!” you lowered your hand from your mouth for only a second to scold him, jolting when his other hand slipped beneath the blanket and latched on to your other side. Luckily your squeak was hidden beneath a sudden surge of volume in the music in the movie. Something important must be happening. No matter, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

He knew exactly what he was doing to you. Flustering you first by pulling you in close and then tickling you senseless to top it all off. Maybe he had noticed you fading into yourself a bit more these days, rubbing a hand along your own shoulder or resting your hand on your knee absentmindedly while sitting by yourself. It was likely that you, yourself didn’t even realize what you were doing. But Loki was perceptive, especially when it came to you. And if he was being honest with himself, he needed the closeness as much as you did tonight. He’d have been satisfied just to hold you in his arms, but he wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t relish in the feeling of you squirming under his fingers, cuddling in closer to him as a result. And the fact that you enjoyed it as much as he did made it all the more fun.

Feeling your silent, shaking laughter against his side, he let his fingers rest along your ribcage, adding a bit of weight to his touch to avoid tickling you. You took in long, slow, deep breaths, trying not to gasp in air and resultantly make a loud noise. Glancing around anxiously, you didn’t see anyone looking inquisitively in your direction. Good – you didn’t want to have to answer any awkward questions from your teammates later.

Gradually, your breathing shallowed to a more normal respiratory pattern. Still, Loki’s fingers rested heavily on your sides, unmoving. You shifted a bit to lean more firmly into his side, hoping he’d take the hint that you had recovered enough to start again. You were keenly aware of the location of each of his fingers along your ribcage, waiting with bated breath for them to suddenly spring into action and start scratching between your ribs again.

If there was one thing you should have learned about Loki by now, it was that he enjoyed teasing you. He knew what you wanted. But you were going to have to find a way to ask for it.

Releasing a short huff of frustration, you tilted your head backward to look up at the dark-haired Asgardian who had made himself your pillow for the evening. You could barely make out his features by the glow of the TV screen, the light dancing across his face as the movie continued to play. He glanced down at you when he realized you were looking at him. You softened your eyes, jutting your bottom lip out the slightest bit. He let out a breath of a laugh through his nose at pouting expression, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in a look that asked what you wanted without words. You frowned, brow furrowed, trying to will him to just read your mind. He shrugged, letting his expression harden and feigning ignorance as he turned to look at the TV screen once again.

Suppressing the urge to whine, you reached your hand up to where his rested on your side, tapping it gently. You saw a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but his hand remained still. You had one last trick up your sleeve, though. You shifted yourself to turn your upper body a bit, allowing that to be a distraction as you moved your hand over to the side you were resting against, latching your thumb and index finger onto his lower ribs and pinching a few times in rapid succession. You weren’t even sure if he was ticklish, but the sudden jolting gave you your answer.

His hand clamped down around your wrist, prying it away from his side as he turned his head to look at you with narrowed eyes, a look that screamed ‘you’re in trouble.’ Your stomach swooped in anxious and excited anticipation.

His grip around your waist tightened, pulling you closer against his side to hide his own vulnerable areas using your back as a shield. He latched both hands on your sides, his long, slender fingers reaching well across your belly, and began to claw into the soft skin through your shirt. It was all you could do to suppress a burst of laughter from exploding from your chest, clamping your hands over your mouth and nose but resultantly leaving your torso unprotected. Apparently you’d succeeded in getting under his skin, because he was no longer trying to go easy on you, thumbs digging into your sides just below your ribs as his four fingers scratched across your belly.

You were glad he at least had mercy enough to not target your weaker spots, because the effort it took to suppress your laughter was making you want to explode. Tears of mirth collected in the corners of your eyes as you let out small, short bursts of air through your nose, shoulders shaking. Loki was precise and unrelenting tonight, continuing to torment that same spot for what felt like an eternity. You finally couldn’t take it any longer, moving one hand away from covering your mouth to push at his hands. Instead of stopping, he merely allowed his hands to slide down a bit to dig into your hips.

In all your years on earth, you’d never been tickled in that specific spot, although you knew supposedly it was terribly sensitive for some. You never imagined you were one of those people.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Your eyes grew wide as you arched your back against his devilish touch, pressing the blanket into your face to muffle your tiny screams. His thumbs dug into the spot just above your hipbones while his fingers clawed into the front of your hips, emitting ticklish shocks through your entire torso with every squeeze of his fingers. He chuckled softly at your reaction, easily covered up by a round of laughter from the others as some comedic stunt occurred on screen. You tried to tap out, frantically pushing at his hands with one of your own. He ignored your silent pleas for a few more moments, clearly proud of himself for having made you a giggling, squirming mess in his arms.

Loki, like you, was not interested in answering questions from the other Avengers, and so he finally relented when he realized your struggle was beginning to become more violent. You melted into his side, taking sharp, shallow breaths as you came down from your state of euphoria. It was precious to him, how you collapsed so heavily into his arms after he’d just tormented you. He wrapped his arm around you further and tugged you to sit up a bit more comfortably against his side, resting a firm hand on your belly. You reached over and covered his hand with your own, brushing your thumb along his knuckles. Leaning your head back into his chest, you let out a deep, contented sigh that made his heart skip.

There would be questions after the movie, but not because anyone witnessed the sweet torture Loki had put you through. It was hard not to notice how you’d buried yourself against his side for the entirety of the movie. And, more importantly, it was hard to ignore the foreign, soft smile on Loki’s face.

Part 4: You are Wonderful

#ticklish!reader #tickle fluff #loki tickle #tickle fic #marvel tickle #tickle prompts #soft loki #ler!loki #lee!reader

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lazypeachsoul · 3 years

Text

I wouldn't want to spend a minute lovin' anybody else.

Warnings: this fic has some sad moments and mentions of the blip. also kind of AU because I'm completely ignoring Natasha's canon end.

Word count: 4,2k (i got very carried away with this fic)

Summary: · Meeting the right person at the wrong time can be life changing when it doesn’t work out the way we desire. But if it's meant to be it will always happen, right?

A/N: This is my fic for the "Women of Marvel xReader Exchange" created by @marvelxreaderfanfictionfest . It was created for @im-holding-ontoyou and I hope you like it! gif by @natasharomanovgifs 🌼 ALSO; i haven't watched Black Widow yet so I'm sorry if something in this fic doesn't fit the new info we got about natasha.

Masterlist.

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New York, 2015.

When you received the call from one of your bosses that you had a new case you would have never imagined how big that case would turn out to be.

You had been working for one of the most important law firms in New York for a year now, and you were getting kind of used to reading cases that would be narrated in the papers for months. Rich and entitled men, big divorces were they fight over who gets the yacht, one or two murder cases... if it revolved around the powerful people of New York city, your firm would get it.

When you got to the debriefing and were told that Tony Stark, one of the firm's most important clients, asked your team for assistance in the creation of some legislation with the newly created “Advanced Threat Containment Unit” you were more than surprised.

The events that the Avengers had caused (or saved us from, there were different opinions going around) in the small country of Sokovia were known all around the and it was only time before the most powerful officials asked for the regulation of ‘superhero activity’.

You weren’t important enough to actually attend the meetings that took place with the government, seeing as you had only passed your bar exam a little over a year prior, but you were deemed cheerful and nice enough to act as a nexus between the firm and the client.

For months you spent your days talking to Tony Stark and other members of The Avengers trying to explain what was being talked about. The first few meetings were a disaster, seeing as the mood was somber for the lives lost and nobody really understood your legal jargon. But slowly you started to transform your language and really tried to make the meetings as easy as possible for everyone present.

But who were you kidding, they really didn’t care about the meetings or the silly attorney being sent to explain something that was way above their paycheck. Well, at least Stark was gracious enough to set a coffee station with some pastries for the meeting. You were pouring the hot liquid into your to-go cup when your hand jerked and the hot liquid splashed your hand.

You could feel the sting of the burn but avoided further sudden movements trying not to make it worse. Before you could reach for a napkin to clean up the mess you made, a more dexterous and manicured hand reached for them and exchanged the hot cup in your hand for the bunch of papers.

“Careful, Stark always serves boiling coffee. I think it’s to mask that it’s not the best quality.”

You lifted your gaze from your hand and found a pair of deep green eyes gazing back. You would have thought that spending numerous meetings in the company of superheroes would make you less susceptible to their powerful auras, but being this close to Natasha Romanoff made your heart beat a bit faster.

“Yeah, I found out the hard way.” You joked, lifting your hand a bit. “You would guess one of the richest people in the world would actually serve good coffee...”

Seeing her crack a smile made you feel less tense. Sometimes you forget they are still normal people. Normal people who could kill you with their bare hands and had superhuman powers. She placed your cup on the food table, apparently not bothered by how hot it must have been, and pushed her hand in your direction.

“I’m Natasha Romanoff.” You wrapped your hand around hers and shook it, biting your tongue trying not to tell her of course you knew her name. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself in earlier meetings, we were all trying to come to terms with what had happened.”

“No worries, I can only imagine how hard it must have been for all of you.” You nodded and tried to show her sympathy, trying to avoid thinking about all the lives affected by the fight. “Oh sorry, I’m-”

Natasha quickly cut you off, speaking your name before you could even say it. You could feel your cheeks get warmer at the idea that they actually knew who you were, and she probably could sense your mood change because she quickly explained.

“I know who you are, you send us at least two emails a week about these meetings and FRIDAY always announces you before you arrive.”

“Who announces me?” You asked curiously at the mention of a name you recognized.

“FRIDAY. It’s the name of Stark’s AI technology. It works all around the tower and it’s there to make life easier for everyone.” She explained pointing around at the speakers strategically placed around the room.

“Oh, I get emails from Friday sometimes. Most of them are asking me to translate or explain something about the debriefing because Mr.Stark is not interested in legal terms.” Both you and Natasha laughed at the thought.

But she quickly recomposed and tried to look serious again when she heard her teammates coming in to get ready for the meeting.

“I wanted to ask you about that. Do you think we could schedule a meeting so that you could explain some things about the legislation of the A.T.C.U.?” She spoke lower than she had when the two of you were alone and you wondered why she didn’t want her colleagues to know about the meeting.

“Ye-Yeah, of course I can.” You were confused but thought it would be in your best interest, and the firm’s, to say yes to the proposal. And a meeting with a very attractive and definitely interesting woman was not something that happened constantly for you.

“Great, thank you.” She smiled warmly and squeezed your hand that you hadn’t even realized was still wrapped around hers from the introduction. “I can promise you better coffee.”

You could only hum in response, still trying to piece together what she might want from the meeting. But your thoughts were quickly cut off when Stark entered the room and you moved to start the reunion.

During the entire meeting you could feel the dull pain in your hand from the scorching coffee and the feeling of a pair of green eyes watching your every move.

Vienna, 2016.

The situation had only gone downhill from the Battle of Sokovia. The public’s opinion on the Avengers was at an all-time-low and that made terrorist groups bold. They knew that if they struck and caused enough chaos, the blame would fall on the good guys that tried to stop them.

The only thing that seemed to be a stable thing in your life was Natasha. Well, as stable as dating a superhero might be. She was busy a lot, but you understood the importance of her job and you were quite busy too gaining importance within the law firm.

And even if sometimes terrorists and criminals got in the way you still found a moment to spend together, wrapped around each other without having to think about how messed up life was.

You thought Lagos was the blow that would make everything tumble, the Sokovia accords were unveiled and it broke the Avengers, and your girlfriend. You could feel how torn she was at her decision of some of her friends to oppose the signing and go on the run, and her own decision to subordinate to the United Nations mandate. But you realized how small that had been when king T’Chaka was killed at the UN.

You had been at the UN as part of the USA legal team that participated in the writing and monitoring of the accords. Your participation in the negotiations almost broke your relationship but you were able to recover once you explained your position and Natasha actually came to an understanding of it.

Natasha was also in Vienna when everything went down, you hadn’t managed to properly see her because she was one of the signers and they sat at the assembly while other guests sat at the amphitheater watching the retransmission.

You hadn’t been able to properly see her all day, seeing as she took a detour before flying to Austria. You were only able to communicate through texts where you tried to make the situation more comfortable for her and she promised a peaceful european trip to celebrate the signing.

When the bomb went off and all hell broke loose the first thing you tried to do was look for her, she was at the epicenter of the explosion and you just wanted to see if she was okay. You saw her from afar when you were being pushed to the outside of the building while they swiped the perimeter.

She sat with T’Challa before he jumped from the bench and stomped away. Natasha looked around and your gazes crossed, immediately melting away some of the worry. You tried to push your way through the crowd to get to her, but police and security didn’t budge.

You never took your eyes off of her, scared that if you did she would disappear. But she did move her gaze to her phone and the look that crossed her face when she heard the voice at the other side told you it was a very important call.

Once the call was over and she looked at you again you knew that would probably be the last time you would see her in some time. You hadn’t known Natasha as long as some of her colleagues had, but you could proudly say you could understand what she wanted to say with just a look. And the look on her face in that moment read close to a goodbye.

New York, 2018.

It had been two years since the fall of Helmut Zemo and part of the Avengers was still on the run. And it maybe wouldn’t have had that big of an impact on you if it wasn’t because Natasha had also been on the run for that long.

You had heard about what happened at the Leipzig airport and how Natasha had changed alliances to join Captain America’s fight. You had been heartbroken at the news knowing that any resemblance of normality that you still hope for was destroyed.

You had spent months wondering what had made her change her mind. Had she thought about your conversations about the accords? Had she even remembered you, waiting for her back in New York, when she decided to go on the run?

A part of you tried to convince you of how selfish thinking about that was, why would she think about you when the future of her team and friends was at stake? But also you were her girlfriend, she should have thought about the implications that might have had for you.

In those years you had mourned your relationship and after the grieving period you tried to rebuild your life. New friends, a new position and new chances to take. And it went okay...at least until someone opened their mouth to talk about superheroes or The Avengers. Years down the line and it was still on people’s minds.

On special occasions you would receive anonymous gifts at your office or your apartment. The first birthday after the war you sobbed for fifteen minutes when you saw the bunch of flowers. There was no name or indicative of who might have sent them, that was until you looked better at the card and saw the small red hourglass painted in the corner.

The gifts continued. Every case you won, promotion, birthday or holiday a bunch of flowers would be delivered to you with the same note.

In a way it gave you a sense of peace knowing she was okay and still thought of you. But the more you thought about it the angrier you got at how she had left you.

You didn’t expect a message from your boss to run to the Avengers compound and assess some situation between Coronel Rhodes and Thaddeus Ross. Although the team had crumbled, your company was still hired to legally represent the remaining members and moderate situations that might arise with the government.

You entered the compound expecting another bureaucratic complaint about their activity but you found a trickier situation. The meeting room was filled with people you thought you would never see again.

Captain Rogers was sitting on one of the chairs sporting a new look that made you almost not recognize him and a tense demeanor. Next to him was Sam Wilson, looking around at the smallest of movements and trying to assess the situation. Wanda Maximoff was standing on the furthest corner of the room playing with her rings, meanwhile Vision was apparently being checked out for a wound. What kind of wounds a synthezoid could get was beyond your understanding.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, I might have angered Secretary Ross during a meeting.” Rhodey came up to you with a nervous smile.

You had gotten closer to him thanks to your job seeing as he was the one doing the dirty superhero work.

“Yeah, I got that much from the text. Nothing new then.” You tried to joke to diffuse the tension in the room. “It would have been nice to know you had guests though.”

“We are not guests. Last time I checked this was our home too.”

That voice made your blood freeze. You should have expected her there, all her friends had returned and the chance of her being back too was almost 100%. But hearing her voice again after two years was not something you expected.

You bit your tongue before you could talk about how it’s not a home if you abandon it, but decided against it. This was a fight between them, not Natasha and you.

“I need you to work with the government to avoid this situation becoming a disaster.” Rhodey explained and you scoffed.

“Rhodey, I’m a lawyer not a politician. I have as much power in this as you might have.” You tried to lay your point across but it was difficult with all eyes on the interaction. “Hell, I have even less power than you do.”

“Then I need you to distract them enough to get them off our shoulders.” He pressed. “Something big is coming and we need all the strength we can get.”

You thought about it for a moment. If it was true that something big was coming, the Avengers were the best option to fight it.

“I’m in.” You scoffed at his smile and sat down in one of the chairs of the meeting room. “I’m not ready for the world to end yet.”

The meeting went on for a while. You called bosses, government officials and everyone that would listen to your distractions. You sent emails that would flood their inboxes for days so that they couldn’t read any news that might reach them about what the superheroes had in mind.

It was late at night when a cup of steaming liquid was placed next to you. You looked at it and saw that it was some kind of herbal tea, probably made to relax the drinker. You followed the hand that was still holding the mug until you reached Natasha’s face.

You had done your best to ignore her looming presence in the room but now there was no distraction. Looking at her you could see tiredness in her face. She was platinum blonde now, a look that weirdly suited her, but her face still looked as welcoming to you as it always did.

You tried to stop the flashbacks to the last time you saw it in person in Vienna, but they kept replaying in your head until her voice broke you out of the loop.

“I thought you might need it, I remember how nervous calls used to make you.”

She was smiling but you could tell it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I got over it since I got my promotion. Now I spend a long portion of my day making calls.”

She hummed and sat down next two you, but leaving a chair in between you as a safe space.

“I read about it in an article, I sent you flowers to celebrate.”

“I got them. And the Christmas ones. On my birthday too.” You enumerated the times you had gotten the plants in the past two years. “You must have spent an awful amount of money buying me so many flowers.”

“You deserved it, you still do.” She shrugged and that’s when you noticed she had her own mug of warm tea in her other hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate with you.”

You laughed into your mug sarcastically. Out of everything you expected her to say this wasn’t one of them.

“Did you really? Because you didn’t seem to consider me much when you went on the run for two years.”

Natasha paled when she heard your tone. She probably wasn’t used to situations like these but you weren’t going to let her go without an apology at least.

“I was trying to do the best for-”

“-for the world. I get it, Natasha, I do.” You tried to contain your emotions but it was getting harder with every word. “Relationships are supposed to be teamwork. I know you are always too busy playing heroes and I never judged you for that, I just wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me before you disappeared.”

She was silent and knowing Natasha it’s because she was probably overwhelmed with the display of feelings. But she needed to hear how bad you had felt.

After minutes of waiting for an answer from her and getting nothing but sighs you shook your head and looked back at the computer screen.

“I guess it was a case of the right person, wrong time.” You shrugged trying to find distraction in the flurry of letters in your email inbox. “Or at least it was for me.”

She got up from her seat without a word and you grew exasperated. Why had she even approached you if then she wasn’t willing to have an adult, two sided conversation? She was almost at the door when you heard her voice again.

“Please never doubt how much I love you. I made some bad choices but dating you was not one of them.”

New York, 2024.

Time apparently flies by when you are erased from the face of the earth. One day you are in your office working late and the next you appear five years in the future with no recollection of what might have happened.

You were taken by authorities to impromptu camps and one by one examined to check your identities. The entire thing seemed to be something out of one of the dystopian novels you used to read as a teenager.

When it was your turn you gave them all the information you had on what had happened. You had given them your name and personal information and apparently had been a very searched person because the computer started beeping as soon as your name was introduced in the database.

You were moved to a secluded part of the camp and kept in an isolated room for god knows how long. Your stomach was in knots during the entire situation and you could feel the cold sweat on you. That mixed with the metallic taste on your tongue you knew this time your anxiety was justified. You were almost dizzy because of how hard you were thinking about the entire situation and trying to make sense of it.

When you heard the door of the room open you jumped up, discarding on the floor a makeshift blanket that had been placed on your shoulders when you got there. Your legs almost gave out at the movement and your heart felt like it was going to burst out.

The door opened enough for you to see who had been searching for you. Natasha stepped through the door still dressed in her tactic gear and with tiredness written all over her face. But that feeling seemed to almost disappear when she finally saw you.

With quick movements she stepped into the room and wrapped her arms around you tightly. For some reason that action was the trigger that you needed to let all your emotions consume you.

You started sobbing uncontrollably at the unknown. You didn’t understand what happened or how you are here, but feeling her embrace helped you feel safe in a way. It had been years since you last hugged her but it still felt as good as back in 2015.

You could hear Natasha’s soothing shushes in between your sobs and you moved to hold her tighter.

“You are here. I can’t believe I found you again.” She spoke softly and you didn’t know if she was speaking to you or herself. “It’s okay darling. I’m here and I’m not letting you go again. I promise.”

And with that promise a ray of hope made way between all the fear you felt.

Missouri, 2025.

Soft music could be heard all around the ground floor of the house. The soft beat was upbeat enough to get the morning started but not enough to be overwhelming if you had just woken up. You were sitting on the kitchen island looking at the news on your phone and having breakfast.

Mornings were usually very calm around the homestead and you couldn’ be more thankful for that. It allowed you to silently prepare your breakfast and coffee and get a headstart on Natasha’s breakfast too.

Since she had retired, Natasha had discovered a newfound love for sleeping in and you didn’t dare to take that away from her. She deserved it from all the work she had done in her life.

You, meanwhile, tried to get up early to scroll through the cases that you got in your new and smaller job and schedule meetings or emails.

It was a Saturday so work wasn’t a thing and you could actually enjoy your toast and coffee in peace. Or at least until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your middle and pulled you back against Natasha.

“Good morning baby, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby.” You could feel her smile when she kissed your cheek from behind. “You weren’t there when I woke up though.”

You shrugged before moving to get a bite out of your toast. Natasha tried to do the same but you quickly moved it away from her with a smile. She tried again and you moved as fast as your reflexes allowed you.

“C’mon baby, give me a bite” “No, it’s my toast. You can make your own.” “But it tastes better when you make it.” “No it doesn’t, don’t be lazy.”

The playful fight continued for a few moments until she got close enough to get a small bit but you moved it again.

“Don’t make me bite you, darling.”

You chuckled at her threat and plopped the remaining toast on the plate in front of you. Breakfast didn’t matter much anymore. You threw yourself into her arms and pressed your lips against hers. It wasn’t a slow and sensual kiss, it was closer to how small kids smooch their parents. But you knew it would convey your love more deeply.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Nat.” You spoke against her lips and squaked when you felt her playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Is now a good time?”

That question had become recurring in your household, a nod to the phrase you said when you found eachother again after being separated the first time.

“I couldn’t think of a more perfect time.”

And you couldn’t. The rest of your life spent in a homestead with your girlfriend and whatever life might bring? It sounded absolutely delightful.

Taglist: @tagehaya @flyforeverfree @rooskaya-yelena @evalynanne @insanitybyanothername @princessayveke @yelenabelovasgf @kyli314

#natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow imagine #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel x reader

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kyovtani · 3 years

Text

𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 | 𝒌𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒐𝒖

✗ pairing: kuroo tetsurou x female reader

✗ genre: smut, like just smut, lit nothing but smut; absolute filth but still classy so it's fílth anyway; established relationship!AU

✗ word count: 4.1k+

✗ warnings: swearing, heavy dumbification and degradation, mean/hard (to soft) dom!kuroo, DD/LG (d*ddy dom / little girl), mentions of jealousy and slight possessive behavior, orgasm denial, p*ssy slapping, some spanking, praising, ch*king, impregnation, some c*m play, car s*x, (a little bit of) cute aftercare

– A/N: Happiest Birthday to my fave scorpio boy in HQ!! This is an old fic of mine which I wrote about a year ago and as I thought about it, Kuroo does fit the concept really well and since I’m a little busy writing smth new, I thought why not reuse this big boy! I hope you guys enjoy this one and please feel free to leave feedback of any kind if you did!!

x all the love, zade.

✗ summary: your boyfriend is sweet, caring and oh so soft, so you decide it’s time to make him lose his composure...

It takes a lot to make Kuroo switch from his soft, caring demeanor to his hard dom persona because after everything, he remains a patient man.

He puts your pleasure above anything else; your body a temple for him to worship and take care of with every part of his being.

However, sometimes, no matter how much you love your sweet, loving boyfriend, you find yourself growing a little bored of his constant softness; your desires going further than just being choked and called kitten.

You want Kuroo to absolutely destroy you, to put it as simple as possible. The guttural desire to have him use you for his own pleasure, claim you in the most intimate ways possible and every now and then your body craves this certain type of pleasure; the one which lays pretty close to pure pain.

Led by your body’s deep desire, you find yourself seeking methods which might not be the morally right ones but at this point you struggle to care the slightest bit about morality.

You set Kuroo losing his composure as your goal, trying your very best without even overthinking the possible consequences and if that means that you have to let a random man flirt the living hell out of you right in front of your boyfriend (who happens to have slight possessive tendencies) during your weekly grocery shopping, then so be it.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Kuroo watches the blood boiling scene in front of him with his brows furrowed in pure anger; annoyance flooding his usually so soft and calm features and the more time passes, the angrier he gets.

However, Kuroo’s not a dom for nothing.

He keeps his cool, even lets you take the guy's number as he causally ignores the way that stupid fucker lookes at your ass like a fucking pervert, before the two of you eventually finish the shopping without Kuroo commenting on any of it.

At this point you’re just frustrated. Anger and irritation rush through your body at such a fast pace, you feel your head spinning the closer you get to the car and if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re currently in a public parking lot, you would have thrown a fit already.

Tired of Kuroo’s oblivion, you finally get yourself to gather every bit of composure you have left and turn around to just tell him about what the fuck you want when he suddenly pushes you against the car door, pressing his strong body into your back.

"What the fuck was that little scene supposed to be, hm, doll?", he hisses into your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck and just as usual you love the way his deep and almost unrecognizably raspy voice sends jolts of arousal through your whole body right into your core.

In an instant, you feel your cunt clenching in despair, drenching the fabric of your panties just like that and even though you’re very much aware of your surroundings, you can’t bring yourself to actually give a fuck.

"Good fuck dolls answer when they are being talked to", Kuroo grunts and pulls the lobe of your ear between his teeth, easily eliciting a sweet moan from you before he suddenly wraps his strong fingers around your throat. The cold metal of his rings builds the perfect contrast to the hotness of your skin and with another soft whine, you press your thighs together.

And then, as you gently throw your head back against his shoulder, Kuroo’s hand finds its way around your breast, quickly and incredibly harshly pinching your sensitive nipple between his fingertips to remind you of his – still unanswered – question.

"T-Tetsu, I just-", he doesn’t give you the opportunity to finish your sentence, casually tightening his grip around your throat and cutting off your air supply in one go.

"How the fuck dare you call me by my name right fucking now, you cockhrungy little slut?”, Kuroo’s voice is cold and distant; the anger and disappointment evident in every single one of his words and you can’t believe just how much your pussy starts spasming in response.

“You better address me correctly or last night was the last time you got to cum, did you fucking hear me?", he’s quick to add, the lack of oxygen in your body sending you even deeper into the beautiful haze of pleasure. You barely notice the way you start gasping gasping for air, your lids fluttering shut as you press your thighs even tighter together to get some kind of relief from the heavy pressure on your throbbing cunt.

"Y-Yes, Daddy", you whimper and push your forehead against the cold surface of the door, your body slowly but surely growing overwhelmed by the arousal heating you up.

And in the middle of it all, you’re still incredibly grateful for the lack of company due to the late time of the day because even though you enjoy this with every single pore in your body, you don’t want anyone else to see you like this.

Kuroo lets go of your throat, his hand wandering in between your legs and underneath the waistband of your shorts, just to suddenly cup your cunt. The feeling of his fingers pressing against the drenched fabric of your panties, his rough digits rubbing your needy clit makes you let out a loud, throaty moan.

"Fucking whore", Kuroo curses, his lips so close to your ear, you feel yourself literally melting into a puddle of despair underneath his tall figure, "I can't believe you let that bastard flirt with you right in front of my eyes", he continues and sucks the skin of your neck into his mouth, sucking harshly before he harshly pulls it in between his teeth.

You whine again, constant mewls of frustration leaving your lips as you try your best to move your hips against his big hand, yet fail miserably.

"I should have fucked you right then and there just to show him who this slutty cunt belongs to", Tetsu groans, rubbing his hard erection against your ass but refusing to to move his fingers on your clit. His words and the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves has you moaning and without even trying to calm yourself down, you reach back to take a hold of Kuroo’s thick hair.

"You would have liked that, am I right, kitty cat? No, wait – you would have loved it. You're literally getting wetter and wetter just at the thought being fucked like a stupid whore", Kuroo scoffs, a hint of disbelief wavering in his voice and without missing a beat, you let out a sound of approval in response.

"I'm not even surprised", he hisses and suddenly, pulling his hand out of your shorts, "at the end of the day, you're nothing but a pathetic whore who thinks with her stupid cunt and nothing but her stupid cunt", and then he lets go of you.

His sudden absence leaves you tumbling against the door with a soft whimper and it's then that you notice the way your whole body is shivering from the overwhelming amount of arousal rushing through your system.

"D-Daddy, please", you whisper helplessly, using every single bit of your energy left to turn around and face him, "I need you", you add and can’t help the soft sob falling past your lips; two tears finding their way down your cheeks as you look into the beautiful face of your lover.

The strictness and distance in his features makes you gulp harshly, his usually so soft and calming eyes filled with nothing but hunger and anger and you let yourself devour this rare sight.

"Oh, look at that", Kuroo pushes his bottom lip into a fake pout with amusement sparkling in the pretty brown around his iris, "my little, cockcrazy whore thinks she has the right to even think about my cock after pulling a show like that”, he lets out a loud, empty chuckle, “how cute and oh, so pathetic, kitty.”

Kuroo takes your chin in between his fingers before he straightens his face and pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Backseat", is all he grunts, "I guess I’ve been a bit too good to you. I haven't fucked some manners into you in some time, have I, pretty kitty?”, you look at him with big, teary eyes and your lips parted before you bring yourself to nod in response to his question.

“Is that why you keep acting up like some needy, filthy little whore? Do you want Daddy to treat you like this, hm? Because you know how much I hate disobedient kittens who flirt with other men, yet choose to do it anyway. Right in front of me, too."

His words stir something deep inside of you, your pussy clenching even harder around nothing as a strong jolt of arousal finds its way right into the pit of your stomach.

You have never been more turned on by anyone or anything and at this point you’ve completely forgotten your surroundings; Kuroo and his huge cock the only thing on your mind as you pull open the door to the backseat of his car.

Kuroo watches you carefully, his eyes roaming the sight of your shaky thighs and the damp spot on the grey material of your shorts before he gets himself to tear his gaze away from you, lifting his head and checking the mostly empty parking lot to make sure nobody is watching the two of you.

He doesn’t like doing it in public; the thought of being caught or watched is definitely alluring and tempting but usually followed by the image of it actually happening and a jolt of slight disgust washing over him.

However this time Kuroo is absolutely ready to make an exception because after remaining patient with you for so long, he knows he won’t be able to keep it up for the entire drive back home.

After making sure nobody is around – his habit of parking all the way at the very end of the parking lot no matter what coming as an advantage – Kuroo also makes his way into the backseat, his gaze instantly finding your glossy eyes before he takes in the oddly satisfying sight of your tear stained cheeks and pouty lips.

You look so vulnerable, so helpless, so pathetic – the thought of completely destroying you in every way possible quickly clouding his mind and the longer he looks at you, the more he just wants to fuck you into oblivion.

But again, Kuroo isn’t a dom for nothing.

With hooded eyes, he silently motions you to turn around, the urge to press your face into the seat taking over every bit of his brain.

You don’t hesitate and obediently move onto your stomach, pulling yourself up onto your knees as your eyes nervously roam the inside of his car.

Your heart is hammering against your rib cage at an unhealthy pace, adrenaline and arousal thrumming inside your ears and clouding your mind in the best way possible.

Oh how you love the effect he has on you.

"Take off your shorts and then finger yourself", Kuroo hisses, casually pushing his sweats as well as boxers briefs down his muscular thigh, exposing his thick, rockhard cock to the cold yet tensed air in the car and letting out a soft hiss, "I want you to stretch that little cunt of yours", he adds and without even trying to hide it, you turn your head to watch the way Kuroo spits into his palm and then wraps his fingers around his cock.

You let out a loud, desperate moan at the sight of his huge length; the tip red and angry, already leaking so much precum, you feel your mouth watering at the memory of his taste coating your tongue. You gulp harshly the longer you watch him stroke his length like that, your pussy clenching in despair at the mere thought of how good he fills you up.

You hear the loud sound of skin meating skin before a harsh pain starting from your inner thigh rushes through you; a choked out whimper leaving your lips before you can literally feel your ears perking up at the sound of Kuroo’s voice.

"If I have to repeat myself one more fucking time, I swear to God, I won't let you cum for a whole month, kitty", Tetsurou growls, an almost inaudbile moan following his threat and after mumbling a soft apology, you're quick to get rid of your shorts and underwear just as you were told.

You bend your body down and spread your legs, only to feel waves of embarrassment and shame in combination with heavy, hot arousal overwhelming you.

Kuroo has the perfect view on your spasming cunt and you know he is basically devouring you with his eyes, your head spinning at the thought.

"Oh, kitty", he sighs and picks up the pace of his hand, focusing on his tip every now and then to slightly edge himself because even though he usually manages to hide it really well, this whole situation has him a lot more worked up than he had expected.

And now that he actually got to see how much his change in demeanor and choice of words have gotten to you, he is more than just struggling to keep his cool composure.

Kuroo can’t help but think of the way your slick arousal tastes and feels on his tongue, your sweet moans filling his ears as you part those pretty lips of yours in pleasure.

Kuroo watches the way you slide two of your fingers through your glistening folds, collecting your own juice before aiming for your sensitive, hardened little clit and as soon as you press the tips of your digits against the bundle of nerves, both of you let out a loud moan.

"Don't forget about that tight hole of yours, baby", Tetsurou grunts, throwing his head back as he curses himself for slipping out of his persona even if it wasn't for longer than a second.

You whimper at the sound of your favorite pet name falling past those pretty, swollen lips and choke on that exact whimper when you insert both of your fingers into the warm walls of your cunt.

"That's right, just like that, you little slut", Kuroo’s quick to comment, his other hand pushing the material of your (his) oversized shirt up to reveal the soft flesh of your ass before spanking you softly and then digging his fingers into your skin, "even though your fingers are nothing compared to my cock, we don't want you to to get hurt, right?", and again, he finds himself quickly regretting his choice of words and lack of authority.

But he can't help it. You’re his perfect, sweet faced little angel girl after all; there’s no way he can completely abandon his soft, caring side no matter how bratty you become. Not even thinking about giving you a chance to respond, he reaches out and plants another harsh spank on your slightly sore ass.

You muffle a loud whimper, burying your face in your arm as you try to keep your noises down in hopes of getting to hear the sinful moans of your Daddy; however, Kuroo is quick to notice your little plan.

"You're really trying it tonight, huh, you fucking cumslut? You better start moaning or I'm about to get really, really mad and believe me, you do not want that", Kuroo scolds you, his hand leaving your ass and wrapping around the one buried between your legs before he starts helping you thrust your fingers into your wet pussy.

Kuroo watches the way you clench around your digits with his lips parted in pleasure and arousal tingling at the bottom of his spine and if it wasn't for the punishment he has in mind, he would have fucked your pretty pussy.

Your loud moans, high pitched whimpers and desperate whines start filling the small space of his expensive car, making it even harder for him to stay collected and as he slowly observes the way your thighs slowly start shaking, he pulls your hand away from your drenched cunt with a deep grunt.

"Let's go over the rules really quick, kitty", Kuroo sighs and pulls you to stand on your knees, making sure you don't hit your head before he pushes you against the back of the passenger seat.

Your head is spinning at an inhumane space and you don’t even know if you can form proper sentences especially at the feeling of Kuroo’'s hot tip prodging at your entrance. However the slap against your sensitive pussy manages to pull you back to reality rather in an instant.

"Green means good, o-orange stands for okay, slightly uncomfortable and r-red is the signal for you to stop, Daddy", you whisper, burying your face in back of the passenger seat’s head part as Kuroo slowly starts pulling you down onto his lap, making you sick onto his big cock painfully slowly.

"Keep it going, you're not done yet, kitty. Come the fuck on, stop disappointing me like this", he groans and throws his head back, the sudden urge to feel your lips on his and your tongue in his mouth making his mind go absolutely empty.

His words ring in your head, your mind foggy and sight slightly blurry as he finally bottoms out and knocks the breath out of your lungs just like that.

You try to stay focused, knowing and very well aware of his order but the feeling of his pulsing cock inside of your tight pussy, tip right against the entrance of your womb has you going mad crazy.

"One tap, if I can't breathe, a pinch if it hurts and two if I want you to stop", you finally manage to mumble and the moan that leaves your lips when Kuroo slowly starts pulling out of you at those words – is almost animalistic.

"I'd love to praise you but you did make me wait and you actually have the pleasure to feel my cock even after all that shit, so", Kuroo’s voice is slightly strained, your tight walls gripping his huge cock like a vice and no matter how many times he got to experience this feeling, he knows he’s never going to get used to it.

You start moaning shamelessly, not even able to close your mouth as Kuroo rams himself back into you and then finally picks up a steady rhythm. Your fingers dig into the fabric of the seat, face buried in the headrest as you let him use you like a doll.

You love the way Kuroo’s grunts grow louder, his thrusts more impatient and the grip in your hips painfully tight; you love the fact that he is enjoying this as much as you were.

But then, out of nowhere, you realize how quiet he has been ever since he has started fucking you.

Dirty talk is something Kuroo has alway been really into, the lewd words falling past his lips so easily and managing to rile you up every time, that you haven’t even noticed how much you miss it.

"D-Daddy", you moan and gulp harshly, your hand reaching behind you to wrap your fingers around his, "t-talk to me, please", you ask softly and spare a quick glance at your lover; his astonishing beauty sending jolts of warmth through your chest.

Kuroo tsks, a loud scoff leaving his lips before he rolls his eyes and keeps thrusting into you. He is absolutely obsessed with the way your cunt spasmed around his cock, the sight of his huge length disappearing inside of your tight hole edging him more and more.

"P-Please, Daddy", tears flood your eyes rather quickly, the pleasure making you incredibly emotional and the tight feeling in your chest looking for relief as you softly sob into your arm, "I need you to talk to me, please; I'm sorry for acting like a whore", you cry and throw your head back, a choked out sob-moan leaving your throat and even though Kuroo does enjoy the way you are literally falling apart on his cock, he hates seeing you cry like that.

"P-Please call me your pretty girl and t-tell me how much you – fuck – love my cunt, please", you beg shameslessly, the tears streaming down your cheeks and leaving hot trails behind and despite the guilt inside your chest, you slowly start coming closer to your relief; the taste of your upcoming high coating your tongue in the sweetest way possible.

"Ssh, baby", Kuroo finally lets go of his hard mask, his chest tightening with every one of your soft cries and even though he knew he'd break at some point, he still had hoped to keep it up a little longer than usual, "it's okay pretty girl, I got you. I'm here, kitten", he whispers and as his soft voice fills your ears, a loud sob leaves you, followed by a tiny moan when his fingers start drawing circles into your neglected clit.

"Come on, angel, I want you to cum", he places a soft kiss on the back of your hand before he starts thrusting into you even harder, "show me who this sweet cunt belongs to", your lover's oddly assuring words are the last straw and without another second passing by, you let go and feel the coil in your core snap; shoving you head first into your high.

Several waves of pleasure hit you, your orgasm literally ruining you to a point where you struggle to take proper breaths.

Kuroo helps you ride out your high by slowing down the movements of his hands and hips, his breath getting stuck in his throat as he tries to handle your constant clenching.

"Cum inside of me, Daddy", you whisper, exhaustion dripping from every single one of your words yet you still let out soft little whimpers to encourage your pretty faced boyfriend, "want you to fuck your baby into my belly", you add quickly and the way literal innocence is coating your voice is what throws Kuroo over the edge.

Your cunt continues to spasm around him, making sure he cums as hard as you did and then, after his whole body halts its movements, he cums inside of you; painting your warm walls in several shades of white.

Kuroo quickly pulls out of you, the loss of contact and sudden feeling of emptiness has you whimpering slowly but you instantly go silent when he pulls you into his arms, pushing your face into the sweaty crook of his neck before he slowly starts caressing your naked thighs and massages your scalp.

A couple of minutes pass by, the exhaustion overcoming the two of you and when Kuroo notices the way your lips grow heavier by the minute, he presses his lips against yours and pulls you into a passionate kiss. A lazy clash of teeth, your tongue slowly entering his mouth and of course he is quick to swallow your spit, making you whimper into his mouth.

"Please don't ever do that again, my love", he whispers against your parted lips, his thumb grazing your cheeks and then your neck, "if you want me to be hard on you, there's no need to flirt with other guys, you just have to tell me, okay? You know I will do anything to make you happy", he mumbles and you quickly reply with a soft hum of approval.

"I love you, Daddy", you sigh, burying your face in his chest as your lips stretch into a big smile when you hear him mumble, "I love you, too, pretty girl."

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou smut #haikyuu scenarios #kyovtani

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diavolosthots · 3 years

Note

Could you make a fic about Diavolo finding out that his mc is being bullied for not being good enough for the future King?

We all know MC would get the hell bullied out of them by several demons

Warning: mentions of bullying

Unworthy (DIAVOLO X GN!READER)

Coming to the Devildom, you would’ve never imagined all the fascinating things it would bring you. After all, hell is supposed to be this dark and unforgiving place, is it not? Yet, when you arrived you were greeted with somewhat open arms. A little mistrusting, and a hell of a lot chaotic, but not as badly as you would have imagined it. Things, for the most part, went smoothly, and even Belphegor grew on you at some point. Of course, what would this story be without some classic romance? The Demon Lord took particular interest in you and you found yourself being intrigued by him too. Seriously, the man is attractive, intelligent, and has a sense of humor; it’s an overall win! Still, there was a lot that came with being close to him. Even as just a friend, you were challenged on the daily for ulterior motives or any regime you might lead against him. As his lover, all of that became worse. But none of that mattered to you, or really made you think twice about him. You always came out on top, truthful and honest, and never proved a threat to the future King. In a way, Barbatos had even praised you for it, although discreetly. It felt good to be wanted and it felt even better to be wanted by him, that’s why you didn’t really have much of a problem to prove yourself pretty much on the daily.

But proving yourself didn’t just mean you had to prove yourself to him and his immediate circle, did it? Demons were jealous beings, rageful demons… the seven avatars shone in every sinful creature that walked the Devildom grounds and some of them shone out more than others. You weren’t a favorite by default, being human and all, but having managed to “suck your way up to the Demon Lord”, per the citizens of the Devildom, had you on a whole new hate list. Diavolo was, per unspoken rule of, once again, the citizens, off limits for anyone. Many have tried and all of them have failed to come close to him. Barbatos had been the main cause of that because the loyal servant seemed to think no one was good enough for his Lord, but if by some miracle, someone did manage to get past Barbatos, it was Diavolo they had to worry about. The Prince was picky, always has been, in everything he does and in everyone he takes. Even being courtesan to the future King proved more than difficult, and yet, somehow, someway, a measly human managed to snuggle up to him.

Needless to say, you really grabbed the short end of the stick. Thankfully, you were at the House of Lamentation for most of your time outside of RAD, so the bullying and accusations were limited to school hours, but you would be lying if you said they didn’t take a toll on you. Hearing things like, “pathetic, useless human” or “Spineless cocksucker” or “dick kissing attention whore” took its toll on you mentally. Of course, the abuse never stayed verbal, did it? If none of the brothers were around to protect you, which thankfully rarely ever happened, people are quick to get physical, too. Being shoved into walls, robbed of any money you had on you, or even being dunked into the toilets are all not new tricks to you. As much as life in the Devildom was glorious, it was also frightful. Naturally, as most people would, you tried to keep these things to yourself, maybe cry in the shower or in the middle of the night when you were sure everyone else was asleep.

Today, you couldn’t hide it though. You were supposed to meet Diavolo right after classes were done, but sadly, one succubus decided to gang up with a few incubi and throw you, yes literally throw you, down the steps at RAD. Nothing terrible happened, but you twisted your ankle and bruised both elbows when you landed. If that wasn’t enough, they of course had to throw some words at you as well. “He’s just looking for new meat.” “You’re nothing more than a cockwarmer.” “You don’t think Lord Diavolo actually wants you, do you? You’re an easy slut with no sense of self worth.” You cried, of course, and couldn’t wipe the tears quick enough before Barbatos came to pick you up. His usual smile faltered and before he even asked what happened, he went to get Diavolo. “I’ll tell My Lord immediately.” For obvious reasons, that’s the last thing you wanted, but Barbatos was already gone before you had the chance to stop him. You curled up on one of the steps, pulling your knees up to rest your head against, one hand rubbing over your twisted ankle while your face rubbed against your knees to collect the tears, “What ever did I do….” that’s the thing though, you really didn’t do anything.

“(Y/N)!” Diavolo was quick behind you, racing down the steps to get to you and immediately dropping to his knees to inspect your ankle, grimacing when you pulled it back because the pressure he put on it hurt, “Get some ice Barbatos.” “Yes, My Lord.” You couldn’t look at him, feeling pathetic that a few bullies got to you and actually managed to somewhat break you. “Talk to me (Y/N). What happened?” He tried to lift your head, cradling your face in his hands but you turned away from him, not wanting him to see your tears, which broke his heart. His arms wrapped around you gently, pulling you into his chest while letting himself fall back on his butt so both of you could be more comfortable. You shook your head against his chest, watching as the tears got soaked into his red RAD uniform, which made you feel worse. “They hate me…” the sentence came out in sobs, making Diavolo’s arms only tighten around you, “Who hates you?”

His head rested on top of yours, anger and sadness boiling beneath his skin. Anger because who dares touch you? Who dares mess with the Prince’s lover? Sadness because he feels like he can’t do anything unless you tell him. His head lifts when Barbatos comes back with the ice pack, taking it from him and then shifting a bit, “I’m putting this on your ankle, alright?” He waits for you to nod before placing it gently against your ankle, which had started to swell already, “who hates you, (Y/N)?” You gripped his coat tightly, hiding your face further in his chest, “Your people…”

You told him everything, albeit in between sobs and heavy breathing. He listened, making sure to keep the ice back on your ankle, although it almost broke a few times from how hard he was gripping it. Honestly, he can’t believe anyone would have the guts to touch you while you’re under his care and supervision, but especially because you’re his. Have they forgotten whom they’re messing with? This could easily end in a death sentence for all of them, and from a quick glance at Barbatos, Diavolo knew that his servant was thinking the same thing. “You’re coming with me, (Y/N). Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” You let him pick you up, bridal style, and carry you through the never ending RAD hallways until the outside of the Devildom hit your skin. He walked, all the way back to the castle, with you in his arms, and something about that made you feel at ease. He didn’t push anything else, he didn’t even try to make it better, although he did make it better by just holding you.

“Why am I here?” You couldn’t help but wonder, though, why he did bring you back to his castle. After all, you lived back with the brothers, but his next words had your heart flutter and a soft smile spread across your lips, “because you’re staying with me, by my side, where you belong.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me lord diavolo #lord diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo #shall we date diavolo #om! diavolo #diavolo obey me #obey me diavolo x reader #tw bullying

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

April Fools

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer needs to one up Reader just as he’s about to loose a prank war

A/N: I’m kicking things off for my 30 fics in 30 days for April with this fic inspired by April Fools day- lol this is a much better version compared to what I have experienced in the past with this holiday 😂 @90spumkin there’s a few specific lines in here that are totally inspired by your cowboy Spencer fic lol 😂 I’d like to hear all y’all’s thoughts so far or just drop me any type of anon here- ask me anything -my requests are also open!! Hope y’all enjoy reading ☺️

Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer (not as harsh as in other fics of mine), Fingering, Edging, Public Sex, Sex with a hidden motive (there are some real feelings there 😉 plus reader acknowledges and knows the hidden motives)

Main Masterlist Word count: 2.4K

When you walked into the bullpen it was dead silent. If you dropped a pin you’d be able to hear it, even with the carpeted floors. You crept as quietly as you could, afraid that someone might jump out to scare you. It was not as if you had gotten in late today, you were actually cutting it rather close this morning.

Your fear of being submitted to a jump scare so early in the morning wasn’t as irrational. Today was the day that everything was going to come to an either a glorious defeat or a momentous victory. A two week long bet was tipping heavily in your favor at the final hours, you had to be careful to not let your hold over Spencer weaken in these last moments.

Today was April 1st- a day like any other to most people, but not to you and not to Spencer. It had all started when you both had begun trying to do little pranks on each other in the months leading up to the bet. If you asked anyone on the team they’d say it started when you replaced his normal standard deck of playing cards with a new set that had awkward pictures of Spencer you had accumulated over the years taped on them to represent each of the numbers and faces. Your personal favorite was the photos you had chosen for the Queens- one of Spencer looking rather regal, eyes cast downwards and with his hands crossed and a big lip pout while sitting at his desk obviously disproving of whatever Derek had said (who was also in the picture)

The team would’ve definitely said it had started there, but that was the first one that they had seen. The first one had actually been when Spencer had switched around the contacts in your phone while you weren’t looking while you had been hanging out with him. To be fair it had been in retaliation to you playfully teasing him about being a technophobe, all’s fair in love and war you had to admit.

And, whether you admitted to him or not, you did love him. This little bet that you set a few weeks ago had only strengthened your feelings. It involved setting a prank for each other, alternating every other day for two weeks until April Fools day, then the team would judge and figure out who one. You can definitely thank Morgan for that brilliant idea as he had spontaneously suggested it after your card prank on Spencer, though you bet he had been thinking about it for a while. Over the course of two weeks you had to delve into the mind of Spencer, really getting to know what would get under his skin, what would be the perfect prank for him.

“I hope you know what you got yourself into Spencer.” He had smirked back at me when you said that right after confirming your bet. You had delved into researching stuff, trying to figure out pranks that would be more personalized to Spencer rather than the ones everyone would see passed around. Eventually you landed on an idea for your last prank that was simple, yet the perfect way to get under Spencer’s skin. It was so easy you kicked yourself a little for not figuring it out before.

Apparently replacing the sugar Spencer specifically brought in for himself with salt was a step too far according to him. The glare that he had fixed on you after he had spit out his coffee onto his cardigan made you shiver, you knew you were going to be in for something big today.

Plus today was the aforementioned holiday that inspired the bet in the first place, you kind of wished you had gotten the chance to have the last laugh. You were still crossing your fingers and toes in hopes that it wouldn’t compare to your coffee prank.

Your eyes locked on the lone figure standing in the maze of desks, Spencer. It felt as if you were both ready at high noon for a duel to see who drew their gun fastest. Though, comparatively there was a distinct lack of cowboy hats and the sun was down to low for a proper duel. That didn’t stop your mind from wandering to thinking about him in a cowboy hat, he’d definitely look good. you’d have to get him one some day or maybe put a snake in a cowboy boot if another prank war was to ever crop up.

“Where is everybody?” You asked, though you knew that Spencer had probably sent them off elsewhere, you had done the same thing earlier when you needed to convince him that he had come in on his day off.

“I may have bribed them a bit to be elsewhere right now.” He spoke with a smirk that would have seemed foreign to you until you guys had started this. Now it was a staple for him whenever you saw him, going right along with his cardigan and tie to complete his look. There was no complaint from you, Spencer acting slightly cocky just before you were about to get pranked on oddly made you get hot and bothered easier than you’d like to admit.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you crossed your arms in front of you, probably a vain attempt to protect yourself from whatever was coming. Your voice came out a little shaky, “What for?”

“Just wanted to talk to you- privately…” He skated around your question, not really giving you any definitive answer. Though, you hadn’t really expected him to lay out his whole plan, that would just be counterproductive. There was a slight pause in conversation, you were about to break it with your own response when he added,“You know I’ve always found you desirable, Y/N…”

The simple teasing conversation that you had been having with him suddenly pivoted. The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out, leaving you gasping. Even if some part of this led to a prank, you knew Spencer wouldn’t play with your feelings like that. What was most likely happening is that he was using this confession to also pull a fast one on you. His deep brown eyes piercing into your own told you that he was telling the truth in that regard, plus if earlier in the bet was any indication, he wasn’t that good of a liar.

“This wasn’t what I thought you’d be talking to me in private about but- I’ve always found you desirable too...” You admitted with a gulp, pressing your weight into the edge of your desk almost sitting on it.

Your full weight pushed to sit fully on top of your desk, undoubtedly crinkling some important papers underneath when he stepped forward to close the large gap between the two of you. The tension was thick around you now with only two sentences spoken, both full of truth.

“Do you want me as much as I want you?” His lips were now so close to yours his breath was projected onto your lips.

“Yes.” You confirmed, with no hesitation. Honestly, you wouldn’t care if there was some sort of prank he was going to play on you soon, you knew that what he had said didn’t just apply to now. That was the part that mattered to you.

His lips surged forward to meet yours, letting all the tension that had been rising boil over. It was everything you had imagined and more, his lips just as soft and pillowy as they had been in your dreams.

When he pulled your skirt up roughly to expose your bottom half to him you came up off of the edge of the desk slightly, then being pushed back down once you were partially exposed before him. You squeaked into his mouth in shock of how fast this was escalating, but didn’t protest any further, wanting to see where he was going with this. You were so glad that he had gotten the team to leave the bullpen for a while, this would be a hard situation to explain. Being out in the open didn’t make you more nervous though, it excited you to know that someone could be around the corner with only the desk dividers hiding your exposed bottom half.

He didn’t even bother to push your panties down to your knees or ankles. He just pulled them aside to gain access to your now positively dripping hole. You hadn’t even thought to question how this tied into his prank, like it inevitably did, yet. You just wanted more of him, in any way you could get him.

His eyes were fixated on your dripping entrance, seemingly mesmerized by finally being able to see it. The awe in his eyes certainly did make you feel adored by him, but your desire made you feel impatient, “Spencer, do something or I’ll take care of it myself.”

A growl was all you were going to get in response to your desperate snarky comment. He then brought his hand up to suck on two of his fingers, his pointer and his middle. But, instead of then putting them to good use to help you reach a peak he stalled some more by bringing them up to your own mouth.

“I want you to suck too.” A little whine was all you could give in response before letting his fingers inside your mouth. You sucked diligently, making sure to get them wet enough for you.

Once he was finally satisfied with your efforts he removed them, a slight popping noise escaping. Bringing his hand down slowly was just another attempt to tease some more, but you knew that he’d reach there eventually. No matter how hard it was to be patient, you did so, though with a bit of squirming.

Your hips bucked up immediately in response to his fingers coming into content with your clit, Spencer’s other hand came down to press your hips back down again. He spent his sweet time playing with patterns, circling your clit a few times slowly before switching to a faster figure 8 pattern, seemingly just to get you more desperate.

“Spencer- again if you don’t do more I’ll take care of it myself!” You snapped harder with more venom this time, patience wearing dangerously thin. You thought you heard a small whisper of the word brat underneath his breath, but you decided to table it when he finally did oblige you.

You had to bite down on your lip hard when he stopped circling your entrance to plunge two of his fingers inside of you. The pressure on your lip was most certainly almost enough to break the skin while he began thrusting his fingers inside you in a steady rhythm, crooking them perfectly to make you see stars. You had to bite your lip so hard to combat the raging moans that wanted to escape from you due to the pressure he was putting on your gspot.

He brought his thumb up to circle your clit again once he saw that you were getting close, helping push you closer towards the edge. Your lungs were heaving in gasping breaths mixed with desperate moans as he continued to add stimulation to your most sensitive spots, hitting them perfectly with each crook of his fingers and circling of your clit.

Just as your orgasm was about to wash over you, all of his movements stopped abruptly. The euphoric stimulation you had been feeling was ripped away from you, his thumb on your clit halted, the curling of his fingers ceased, and his mouth that had been pressing kisses and hidden hickies to my collarbone had concluded its actions.

“April fools.” He then removed his fingers from me and promptly sauntered off to his own desk with no other words for you. Your legs were still shaking, more now from being edged to the point that you fully had to sit down onto your desk to try and regain your composure. Your jaw also was hanging slack in shock in contrast to how hard you had been biting your lips earlier while his fingers had been inside you.

A little glance from Spencer was thrown your way that was probably to gage your reaction,

you spotted even in your disheveled and distraught state. You had to admit, it was not what you were expecting and he had got you good. Your plan paled in comparison by far considering you were just going to have the entire office call him Stanley all day- and of course steal the coffee grounds to see if you could provoke an even bigger reaction out of him.

A deep sigh came from you, an non verbal admission of your glorious defeat. He had well and truly got you, it wasn’t as if you could exactly defend yourself and your pranks to the team during judging. Not that you really wanted to defend them, there was no reason to, he had well and truly beaten you. You could accept when you had been beaten, you’d accept defeat with grace. Though you definitely still feared the idea Spencer would come up with as a consolation prize for his win.

Reaching down with your hands to a stack of files on your desk you absentmindedly straightened them, then sitting down in your desk chair. You wriggled around a bit, feeling the dampness in your parties, already regretting sitting down. With another sigh you nodded towards Spencer, an acknowledgement of his momentous victory before getting up again to go clean yourself up in the bathroom to clean up- and maybe splash some cold water on your face. Though by the smirk on his face, there was no way this wasn’t going to happen again. And, maybe with him actually letting you finish or not, the thrill was sometimes in the chase of one. You’d also have to think of your own way of retaliation in the future of course, just because you accepted defeat just now doesn’t mean there wasn't a longer war to be won. Plus perhaps you will admit your deeper feelings for him that you could now see lying beneath his eyes as well, feelings much deeper than desire.

Safe to say you just told the team that you lost fair and square, not divulging why no matter how much Penelope pried. It was without a doubt, a glorious defeat.

—

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics

Dom Spencer: @rainsong01 @evlfknb

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader

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youandtom · 3 years

Text

EXcape to the Countryside

Tom Holland X Reader

Summary: ‘Much like the majority of the general population in their teens and twenties, love and heartbreak are two very common, but dangerous, side effects of life that hit you hard. You ended your last relationship on a bitter note. Anger, frustration and hatred had boiled off whatever it was that brought you together and it eventually tore you apart. He left you hanging on an unanswered question for years and as much as you were desperate to figure out why things ended, you chose to forget about him. Hate him. Loathe him. All because he ended such a beautiful thing. You hoped to never see him again. But, of course, fate had other plans…’

Themes: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, ex to lovers, eventual smut, break up/make up

a/n: Ah! first fic! also first series! omg! Enjoy! Please! cos I will swallow myself if you don’t :) Plz be kind. I’m not new to fic writing just new to T.H. fic writing but anyway hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 1 (10.2K) Chapter 2 (10.8K) NSFW Chapter 3 (3.3K)

For as long as you've lived, you've felt that life has had a personal vendetta against you, that favouritism, or lack thereof, has trapped you in a permanent state of bad luck. You have no idea why...perhaps because you used all your luck to cheat death escaping that car crash when you were 8. Or maybe because you said something mean to Martin in school, and a very vengeful karma has followed you every step of the way. Or simply, by the ignorance of others, that's just how life goes.

Yes, your outlook on life certainly isn't one of an optimist, but why should you care? Your luckless past is one of the most quintessential pieces of evidence that proves that your outlook shouldn't be anything different.

Much like the majority of the general population in their teens and twenties, love and heartbreak are two very common, but dangerous, side effects of life that hit you hard. You ended your last relationship on a bitter note. Anger, frustration and hatred had boiled off whatever it was that brought you together and it eventually tore you apart. He left you hanging on an unanswered question for years and as much as you were desperate to figure out why things ended, you chose to forget about him. Hate him. Loathe him. All because he ended such a beautiful thing. You hoped to never see him again.

But, of course, fate had other plans…

"WE WON!" your flatmate, Lola, screams announcing her delight about winning a competition that she and her friend, Harrison, had been put in for. The prize was an all-inclusive weekend away in Cornwall where they, and two others of their choosing, would reside in a beautiful chalet located just by the seaside. The weather has been really good recently, so it's perfect timing to travel to the coast.

"Congratulations!" You fail to hide the snide jealousy in your voice. How come she wins everything?! She gives you a very motherly scornful look and you, the child, stand there unfazed.

"Would it kill you to say congratulations and actually mean it for once? Jeez, I was actually going to ask you to come with me but-“

"No, hey, c'mon, of course I'll come. You know me, I just never have luck with things like these.”

"Yeah I know..." she concurs. "But still, can you at least pretend a little better?”

You stifle a laugh and approach her open arms, all jokes aside. "I am happy for you, I know how much that project meant to you.”

"Yeah, worked our arses off and got a collective total of 5 hours of sleep between us. Anyhow, I'm sure Harrison's just as glad. We agreed that if we won we would each take a friend with us so it would seem less of a...y'know, romantic getaway-" you smirk, "which is NOT what this is, okay?" Her finger is pointed. She's serious.

She and Harrison have an on-off-kind-of-but-not-really sort of thing going on and have for the last few months since they started working together. They have their moments, to say the least, but neither of them are willing to subject themselves to their feelings just yet. You, however, are as single as can be. Your last relationship took everything out of you, so you're embracing single life as if it is a privilege because God knows that's what it seemed like when you were in a relationship.

"Who is he bringing?”

"I don't know, haven't really met his friends and I doubt he would take his sister," she mutters.

"Let's just hope it's someone tolerable.”

~~~~

Friday eventually comes round. Work grants you an early finish and the much-anticipated weekend away finally arrives. It's been agreed that everyone would rendezvous at the chalet. Being that you live together, there's no extra journey required to pick anyone up so you arrive first with plenty of time to appreciate the view before you. And what a view it is; the very sizeable two-storied chalet looks beautifully rustic with its entirely wooden architecture, perfectly complemented by the natural scenery that surrounds it. The aged wooden exterior poses as a facade for the modern and contemporary twist revealed only once you step inside. The living space had been adapted to provide the most advanced amenities and pleasures of the 21st century. It's like nothing you've ever seen before.

"This looks amazing! And this was all free, yeah?" you comment.

"Yeah, all expenses paid and..." she runs over to the Smeg fridge hidden in the corner of the kitchen, "a complimentary bottle of Prosecco, courtesy of the charity we helped." She reveals a decadent, and rather expensive bottle, handling it very precariously as she pretends to chug it. It won't be long before she'll actually be doing that.

"Leave some for me, eh?”

Harrison's voice enters the room dragging behind a mountain of luggage that has him stumbling over his feet. He's exactly how you remember him; the very tall, blue-eyed beauty that you once met at the doorstep of your flat. It's a face you can't forget. Lola not-so-majestically canters over to him and engulfs him in a hug that is guaranteed to send the two of them crashing to the floor.

"WE WON!”

"I know!" He sweeps her off her feet and effortlessly swings her round and round: just the very proof that shows they really do have something for each other. It's almost endearing how they behave around each other, almost youthful. You used to be like that. The feeling is so unfamiliar now…

"You guys already know each other." You and Harrison greet one another. "So who did you bring?”

"Oh, my friend. He's out getting his stuff, I'll go and get him.”

He wanders back out and ever so faintly, you hear him yell a name that tugs at your heartstrings. And not in a good way.

“Tom!"

Oft. That hurt. Your ex was called Tom, and no offence to this guy but you have a strongly-felt prejudice against people called Tom simply for that reason. But you never know. Maybe he's nicer than your ex, maybe he's better than your ex, maybe he can remove your bias against that name and the horrible connotations that come with it.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!”

Or he maybe he is your ex.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" you shout back, anger bubbling at the very sight at him. "You've got to be fucking joking me," this time this was to yourself. How can this happen? Out of literally anyone, Tom just had to be friends with Harrison. Of course! Because that's just your luck.

"Wait...you guys know each other?" Harrison asks, both his and Lola's face in a complete state of shock and confusion and everything in between.

"She's my ex. Don't tell me we're going to have to spend whole trip together..." he spits.

"Ugh, that's rich coming from you. You're the arsehole here. You were too much of a coward that you couldn't even break up with me face-to-face. So why don’t you just shit out it like you did last time and leave.”

In your peripheral, Harrison and Lola stand there completely disregarded by both you and Tom. It's almost comical how their heads swing from side to side like watching a tennis match, eagerly waiting to see what witty comeback you would respond with.

"You think I care about something like that? I mean, I probably would've if I actually loved you. Who could?”

You could physically feel the pain from that bomb Tom just dropped. You think even Harrison and Lola felt the repercussions of such a verbal attack as a hushed 'too far, man' mumbles in Harrison's baritone voice. You pick up the broken pieces of your heart, swallow the heavy lump in your throat and make an attempt to ease your strained muscles, desperately fighting the urge to punch him in the face.

"Fine. Have it your way.”

Despite every word that just came out of his mouth, the one thing that troubles you more is the look of shock in his eyes caused by his own words. That Freudian slip was more than he intended to say, that's clear enough, but to use such revulsion to the extent that he surprised himself defines your decision to leave. You just can't be here.

Quickly, you look for any direction, preferably one that would take you away from here, and simply walk away. It leads you outside where the chilling wind hits your tear stained face. Not that you were paying any attention; your mind is diseased by his words, crippled by the embarrassment he caused you, and damaged by emotional trauma.

He never loved you.

You've always talked about your relationship with Tom as though no one should ever endure what you did, and sometimes you even convince yourself that that's what you truly think. But in reality, he was really the best thing that could've happened to you. He showed you what you really deserved: to feel loved. He taught you to realise that not everything in life is out to get you and for a while...you were hopeful. However, so very sadly the only good thing in your life had ended. It was most likely something you did, but drowning in denial, you passed the blame onto Tom because you just couldn't accept having another bad thing happen to you. You wanted Tom to be at fault so much just so you could tell yourself that you weren't bad luck. Making excuses was the only plausible way you saw fit to avoid adding your car crash of a break-up to the list of bad things that has happened in your life. You just wanted one 'good thing' to last.

Well, now the only 'good thing' in your life means nothing...because he never even loved you in the first place.

You approach the cliff, the edge in sight and appearing ever so enticing. Your next decision remains unclear, but if one thing's for certain, it's that you will not tolerate having Tom being in the same room as you. And so, by the power of deduction, you find that your only option is to leave.

Voices erupt from the chalet behind you, and from what you can hear it's the two distinctive, baritone voices of Tom and Harrison. Before you could eavesdrop, Lola perches herself beside you wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"Harrison's making Tom apologise.”

“Why?"

"Because no one should be told that they aren't loved.”

"I don't want his love. Or his apology.”

"But nevertheless it's what you deserve.”

You sigh and wipe away any remaining tears. It's for definite that you're going to have to wait a while before you face him again. But what's the point; however and whenever he apologises you know it's because he's being forced, and not because he means it.

There's a soothing breeze on your face as it dries the tears away. Both you and Lola repose in the sunset's orange glaze and the view seems to elicit a long sigh from both your lips.

"So that's him, then," Lola asks. "The Ex. You never did mention his name…"

"Yep. That's him. In all his arrogant glory." You remember telling Lola about him on a girls night in. It was one of the first few nights together since you had moved in and getting drunk in your pyjamas seemed like a good idea to get to know each other more. As girls' discussions go, it found itself on the topic of relationships. You only briefly mentioned Tom because bad memories prevented you from rambling your life away and let slip the full article, and instead you spent most of your time listening to Lola's stories. Even talking about him seemed like a dagger twisting in your heart.

"He seems like a prick. No wonder you broke up.”

"He wasn't always like that," you defend. For yourself, not Tom. You don't want Lola to think you would willingly chose to go out with an arsehole. Give yourself some dignity.

"He was sweet. He genuinely cared. Life with him was...fun. He knew how to make me feel special..." you sigh. Good memories flash through your mind until the Bad One hits you like a slap to the face. "But I guess it doesn't matter because he hates me now." As the words let loose, another wave of tears form. The pain's too much. Being here is too much. "I don't know why I'm getting so hung up on it honestly. He's just some stupid ex who'll do and say anything to show he hates me." Lola stays quiet, eyes front and body still.

"So why are you getting hung up on it…"

"What? I just said I don’t-"

"Maybe he isn't just 'some ex', I mean you guys broke up a long time ago right?"

"What's your point?" you ask precariously in fear of what she's insinuating.

"My point is that you're still affected by him even after all these years which just shows that he is in no way just 'some ex', that if you really didn't care about what he said, you wouldn't have reacted the way you did. I think you still feel something-"

"Lola!" you shout, "don't even go there."

"Tom was the only ex you ever talked about-"

“Stop-"

"I mean, I get it. Things were good between you, you were happy and you loved him...maybe you still do," she queries. Your blood's beginning to boil.

"LOLA!"

"Well look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong!"

You do look at her, right into her eyes, and with every intention you want to say the words. They are there waiting to be said not only to convince her but to convince yourself. Although something stops you. Your conscience will not allow you to lie to yourself about something like this and your lips remained sealed. Come on! Why is it so hard?

What if...what if she's right?

~~~~

The voices dimmer down inside and before you settle on the decision to go back inside, you compose yourself and put on your mask. It's strong, concrete. Almost placid. If, and only, should the opportunity arise and the situation is desperate will you then sort out your differences. The less he knows the better. For now, you will ignore him at all costs. Besides, it shouldn't be too hard if he'll be trying his darndest to avoid you.

It took Lola a while to convince you to stay and go back inside but a few rules had to be put into place. With the recent discussion unveiling a few sensitive thoughts, you and Lola concurred to not divulge in your feelings towards Tom and to keep them behind closed curtains for the time being.

Making your way to the chalet you realise there's nothing you want more than to hop into Lola's car and drive home yourself, having a shameless disregard for Lola and the sticky situation you would be leaving her in. Drawing nearer and nearer, you eventually grant the uncertainty of the near future the benefit of the doubt, and walk straight past the car.

The chalet is quiet when you walk inside aside from the distant cries of seagulls cracking through the open window dispersing the silence. Harrison and Tom seem to be in separate rooms. You and Lola share cautious looks unknowing to how their conversation ended, nevertheless you grab ahold the doorknob of the main living area and walk right in…

Fortunately for you, you find Harrison, and not Tom, scrolling through his phone seemingly already helping to himself to a bottle of beer.

"Hey," Lola says, sitting down beside him. "You alright?"

"Yeah I'm perfectly fine. More to the point, are you alright, love?" He leans over to you, catching your glare as he invites you into the conversation.

You sigh. "Yeah I am now, thanks. Did he say anything after I…" don't say stormed off, "left?"

"I asked him to apologise but he wasn't for having it. Tried to explain himself but I couldn't give a shit, just thought he should've-"

"It's alright, Haz, thanks though. I mean we went out ages ago, I'm sure I'll survive."

Harrison gives you a sweet smile before connecting his phone to the speaker and wrapping an arm around Lola.

"Right. Enough of that. Tom can have some thinking time to himself. Get yourselves a drink ladies, we deserve it."

For the rest of the night, the main event of today was left aside as was Tom. The three of you drank and conversed until midnight ticked on and the alcohol was slowly putting you to sleep. You're thankful that you didn't have to face Tom, at least not for the remainder of the night, for now you have until tomorrow to build your defences against him. Who knows how things will turn out...

An early sunrise appears through the almost transparent drapes and lightens the room. You awake to loneliness just like you have been for that last few years, greeting it as an old friend. You don't quite remember how and when you retired to your bed last night: the celebrations must've escalated further than you expected. Although you have a sneaking suspicion that Lola and Harrison's success wasn't the sole reason for your reckless drinking. Nonetheless, you're just glad you didn't end up sleeping on the floor.

The smell of food eases you out of bed and tempts you towards the kitchen. Changing into the bare minimum with just a pair of pyjama shorts and t-shirt you hop down the stairs following the delicious smell, now partnered with the irresistible sound of bacon frying. Without a second thought as to who is in the kitchen, you chase the tempting smell and march right in.

"Who's cooking because it smells am-"

You stop yourself when you see Tom tending to the food upon the cooker. After spending last night not sparing Tom a single thought you almost forgot he was here. It's just him in the kitchen and you suddenly find that your appetite has vanished. You're not sure what to do with yourself now; it's too late to pretend you aren't here but you don't have anything to say to him. Tom peers over his shoulder and stares at you lurking by the door, eyes cutting through the tension and maintaining the silence just long enough to convince you that your presence is no longer welcome.

So this is how it's gonna be, huh? Just going to stare each other out before one of us leaves? Great! Ideal! Fantastic! Just what I wanted.

Tom turns his attention back to the food as he serves it up onto a plate and sets it on the table beside the hot mug of tea.

"Your breakfast. I've had mine."

"Uh..."

He struts past you colliding his shoulder with yours. Intentional, you notice. That message was clear enough. However spiteful it may be, you move past it and sit down to enjoy the breakfast made for you, probably made with a hint of resentment, no doubt, but nevertheless it's still enjoyable. Even the tea is made the way you like it. He remembered…

Satisfied, you go in search of your best friend who, without a shadow of a doubt, will be wherever Harrison will be. It seems that the ever-growing romance developing between Lola and Harrison compensates for the amassed bitterness that you and Tom bring to the chalet. As you approach the main living area the murmuration of voices become louder and louder. But you stop. There's one more voice than you were expecting to find.

"It's been like this since we broke up."

"And do you want it be like that?"

"No! Of course not."

"So what're you gonna do about it then?"

"I don't know, tell her the truth? Nah, I'll figure it out. I'm going for a shower."

The truth?

Before you have a second to yourself, Tom emerges through the door and comes face to face with you. Well rather chest to face. Ignorant of the fact that he knows you were eavesdropping, he purses his lips and draws daggers before once again brushing past you and skipping up the stairs. His close, but confrontational, proximity has your heart fluttering ever so slightly. But why? Excitement from how close he was? Adrenaline because he caught you listening in? Boiling anger that's causing your heart rate to spike? Who knows.

Just ignore him. Move on.

You take the opportunity to walk in greeting both Lola and Harrison with a face of confusion.

"What was that about?"

It was Lola to answer first. "Y'know, Tom being Tom," she says. What the fuck does that mean?

"He's being really weird. Yesterday we argued, but this morning he makes me breakfast. I don't understand-"

"Maybe he's just trying to make it up to you," in buts Harrison, his words tumbling over themselves. "Maybe he's just not ready to say it just yet..."

Confused, you scowl at him, wondering why he's so quick to explain Tom's actions. He argued with him too, didn't he? Why is he being so defensive? It was only yesterday that Tom clearly demonstrated how adamant he was about refusing to apologise, and it hurt. So what happened in the space of 14 hours that made him change and go through the effort of making you breakfast? He knows you can cook. He knows you are more than capable of feeding yourself, so why bother?

Maybe you're overthinking this...

You hold onto the thought and keep it to yourself, giving up on the conversation at hand.

"Whatever. Anyway, what's on the agenda?"

"Well, we thought we could maybe take a trip into town and have lunch, go a walk along the coast, take a dip, then after, we can watch the sunset," Lola explains, looking to Harrison for confirmation, "you up for it?"

Here's a hint: when Lola says 'maybe' she means 'definitely' and you don't have any other option.

But what if Tom goes?

"Um, all of us?"

"We were hoping so..."

"Er...sure. Sounds good. I'll...I'll just go and...get ready." You force a smile and trudge to your room. Great. Nowhere to run now Tom, looks like you're going to be stuck with me for the rest of the day whether you like it or not.

As soon as you reach the top of the landing, out comes a post-shower Tom with water still dripping down his skin and his towel wrapped around his waist. You manage to contain a silent ‘fuck’ as your eyes fall upon the chiseled muscles decorating his torso, droplets of water falling from his brown curls kiss his skin. He’s clearly seen the sun. His golden skin glows, basking in the post-shower heat. You admit, it’s a holy sight in itself and would have mouths watering in an instant but your resentment is overpowering. You refuse to acknowledge how shocked you are of the physical changes he’s went through since you last saw him like this. Triggered, your mind casts itself back to the intimate moments you once shared with him, naked, bare, skin on skin as you lay in each other’s arms…

Don’t even go there…

You both stop, waiting to see who would be the first to make their move and make way for the other, but it seems that a constant stubborn argument of 'no, you move' prevents either of you from doing so.

Having enough, Tom sighs and in a swift movement coils his hands around your arms, forcibly moving you out his path. Your nose barely skims his bare chest and the warmth of his skin ironically chills you. His tense touch passes through your muscles and you become rigid, frozen in the disbelief that a) he touched you, and b) actually had the audacity to move you out of his way.

Dumbfounded, all you can do is scoff as he skips up the remaining stairs and disappears into his bedroom, the towel clinging onto his waist for dear life.

"What a child," you find yourself muttering as you enter the bathroom.

The hot steam still lingering in the air has you hot and bothered and you can barely keep a thought to yourself. Frustrated, you force the window open and perch yourself onto the window sill, eyes fixated on the vast sun kissed fields not too far from the chalet.

Before you arrived, it was so hard to remember how much you loved Tom during your relationship. Deliberately blocked from your memory, the days spent with him are clouded with ignorance and very quickly the memory of him faded too. You were over him, you moved on, the idea of loving him seemed distant. But seeing him now after years apart, it's becoming harder to forget. The clouds are dispersing and the sun is coming through.

Your eyes catch a small bundle of clothes in the corner. They're his clothes.

You approach the bundle of clothes, delicately picking up his t-shirt and examining it. Nothing can stop you bringing it close to you, inhaling him and letting the nostalgia flood your mind. He still smells the same.

This is weird. Stop this. You can't be doing this, you hate him remember?!

Coming back to your senses, you discard his clothes and go for your shower. But it's only when you exit the shower that your brain spawns a new thought…

You should take his clothes to him.

No! Don't be stupid, he's responsible for his own belongings. He doesn't need you tidying up after him.

But he made you breakfast, he didn't need to do that!

And you don't need to be delivering his clothes back!

You're doing something nice, at least then it won't be as awkward between you.

You find yourself at his bedroom door with his clothes in hand. Apparently you had made a decision before you even finished the argument. Well you're here now, may as well go through with it.

Anxiously, you chap his door and with his permission you enter his room. His eyes draw daggers but you don't acknowledge them given that it's the only way he's looked at you since the moment he stepped through the front door. The air is thick and hard to swallow, but nevertheless your voice breaks through.

"You...um, you left your clothes in the bathroom."

From the opposite end of the room he approaches you, looming over your being with bemusement. He challenges your motives but nonetheless he gratefully takes back his clothes, hands brushing over yours.

"Thanks."

They don't stay with him very long as he turns round and carelessly throws them onto his bed, all before he whips back around to face you, just as close as before. So close in fact that you can detect his breath sweeping across your features.

You notice his hand perched upon the door giving your cue to leave.

"And...y'know, thanks for...breakfast." That rebel eyebrow perks up, but stays quiet. Having nothing more to say from either end of the conversation, you take your leave and awkwardly stumble to your room.

“Wait..."

A week ago, you couldn't have possibly imagined the probability of being stood here, drenched with a measly towel hanging around your chest, in confrontation with your ex-boyfriend. But alas, here you are, frozen on the spot just eagerly waiting to hear what Tom has to say next.

"Look, I know I reacted...badly yesterday and I know that it was maybe uncalled for-“

“Maybe?"

"Alright, alright. It was uncalled for," he admits, albeit spitefully but it still gives you the closure that you were seeking. "So...I-I'm sorry."

Tom knows he was being unreasonable: he screamed to the world that he never loved you. Embarrassed you within the inch of your life and broke everything in between your dignity and self-esteem, butchered your reputation, then have the cheek to say that it was maybe uncalled for! Absolutely not.

Although you deserved an apology from his part, there's still something inside of you that regrets reciprocating his abhorrence. Maybe it's your guilty conscience that you've been battling with since you got here because it was your denial after the breakup that sparked his hatred for you. You blamed everything on him, of course he was going to be angry.

"Yeah. Me too," you sigh. There's an anticipating silence. It seems that neither of you want to leave the conversation, but there is nothing left to rectify.

"Do...do you think that...we can forget about it? We're gonna have to put up with each other for the rest of this trip, I mean...it'll just be easier for the both of us," he mutters diplomatically. Hesitation stops you for a brief moment, considering all the possibilities for Tom's new offer. What would 'putting up with each other' entail?

Probably something better than the situation as it stands.

"Yeah, I suppose," you concur, "but this doesn't change anything after we leave this stupid place, alright?" By this point, Tom has already made his retreat back into his room.

"Why would I want it to?" He quips.

Bastard.

~~~~

"I heard you and Tom made up."

Walking down to the coast, the four of you, however sectionally and very unlike the collective group you should be, decide to indulge in the sun's warm rays. You have disbanded yourself and left following the footsteps of your friends. It's only when Lola notices your absence that she takes the opportunity to gossip about you and Tom's treaty.

"Who said that?"

"Harrison. Well at least that's what Tom told him. So are you friends now?!" she says a little too eagerly for your liking.

"We didn't 'make up' we..." think, think, think! "Accepted our differences...for a lack of a better term. Doesn't make us friends." Lola heeds your answer, thankful that she doesn't challenge it.

Ahead of you, you see both Tom and Harrison walking together, observing how they get along like two peas in a pod. Well, you guess they made up quick. Watching Tom be so animated is completely unfamiliar since his attitude towards you is nothing but stiff and ignorant. Part of you relishes the fact that you are one step closer to civility, but then again, you have to put a line in the sand: one too many steps and your feelings may manifest to a point where your unfortunate luck could strike again, knowing how it did the last time...

"Does he think we're friends?" You cautiously ask. Lola shrugs, her eyes sink to the ground and very little words pass her lips. She's hiding something, for sure. "Lola." She's avoidant of eye contact, she's never been good with confrontation. "What are you not telling me?" You're beginning to become impatient now.

"He wants to be friends with you, alright? He does, and he's been gushing to us about how much he hates being hated by you and wishes you could just get along! He's a lovesick puppy can't you see?"

"Hated by me?! Is he taking the piss? He was the one who came to the chalet guns blazing, telling me he never even cared for me and he wants to be friends?! Lola, you can't seriously be taking his side on this, I mean, ask yourself how I could ever be friends with someone who can't stand to even be in the same room as me."

"You said so yourself! You still have feelings for him, don't you?" Fuck, you forgot you slipped that information to her but nevertheless, you had made your intentions clear. Your feelings were never to be divulged.

"No. Maybe. Somewhere, but it's not the same. It's never going to happen. It's history."

"Well...maybe not..." she quietly mumbles.

"What do you mean?"

She stops walking and turns to you, creating even more distance between you and Tom.

"Okay but please don't kill me," she grabs your hands in a reassuring grip although it doesn't help, you are feeling anything but reassured. "Last night, when we were celebrating-"

"Yes?"

"Y'know, we had quite a bit to drink, all of us did, only you went to bed earlier-"

"So?"

"So...Harrison and I stayed up, just talking about things and we hadn't realised how loud we were being. That's when Tom came in, overhearing our conversation. At first it was slightly awkward because of the argument earlier, but we were drunk and we just kept saying things to fill the silence and make it less awkward and one thing led to another..."

"What?"

"We, well I, told him how you feel about him - how you really feel. I'm sorry, but I was slightly tipsy and Tom looked upset about the whole ordeal and it seemed like a good idea-"

"A good idea?! Lola you promised! Look at the mess you've made! I didn't come here to rekindle with my ex, I came here for you!"

How could she? At least it explains why Tom has been acting differently around you but why did she think it was ever going to be a good idea?

"I know! I didn't expect this to happen either! Look, if it helps, Harrison, Tom and I all sat last night just talking and he told us how much he honestly regrets shouting at you like that, and how he wishes he handled it differently. He looked hopeless, I mean seriously hopeless. He looked worse than you-" you shoot her a glare, but you see she's being serious. "-so I told him that if he apologised then all hope wasn't lost and that he might still have a chance to make it up to you and things will be okay between you.”

She might not even realise it herself, but certainly for you things are slowly piecing together. Lola was the one who resurrected your inner feelings for Tom; questioned them, slowly giving rise for them to be apparent once more. She called you out on your shit. You know Lola's a hopeless romantic, playing cupid in disguise who can't resist a good love story. Despite what she says, this getaway gave her the opportunity to complete her own mission, with Harrison of course, and take on one she wasn't anticipating until she got here...

"If you won't hear Tom out, at least hear me out," she starts walking again as Tom and Harrison fall out of sight. You follow suit albeit reluctantly. "Don't you think that maybe it's for the best? I mean you and Tom already seem to be tolerating each other. That's a start right? And don't tell me that you aren't half glad that you are." You shrug. Truth is, you don't actually know. You're too conflicted. "Maybe if you two keep this up, then things might progress."

You can't give her an answer, at least not yet.

"Just think about it. You might even realise that it's what you want." You scoff but she ignores your response and shuffles a little closer to you. "If you ask me, I think it's what you need."

"Hm, we'll see. But don't force things, if it's fate, it will happen naturally," you declare.

"Yeah but we both know what your relationship is like with fate," she chuckles.

"Shut up...oh and Lola?" She turns her head towards you, "is Harrison in on this too?"

Her smile gives it away. Of course she wants it to be a joint effort. Anything to talk, see or be with Harrison. She knows she isn't just doing this for you.

The trip into town didn't seem as daunting at you were expecting it to be. You and Tom kept to yourselves give or take the few instances where you had to interact with each other. You suppose it wasn't hard, at least there wasn't any strenuous effort made to make it easier. It's maybe the reason why you've been starting to think more about what Lola had said about Tom wanting to be friends again, and instead of trying to find ways to avoid him, you're actually starting think of ways to accommodate him.

Woah, reality check. Are you really giving this thought the go-ahead? Seems so.

It's just past noon and the sun is blazing down on the archaic town. You can't deny it's a beautiful day and the bustling atmosphere is what you live for. As you stroll down the cobblestone streets of the old town, you peer in at the shop windows and the marquees taking in the range of different items from delicious home baked breads to hand-crafted, sweet-smelling soaps. Indulging in high spirits, it sets a gentle smile on your lips. It's places like these that remind you of younger times, visiting only to satisfy your mum's strange obsession with strange and vibrant items sold exclusively at marquees such as this. You remember the bracelet she got you; crafted with a delicate thread and beaded with golden letters that spelled out your name. Eight-year-old you loved it to pieces and you mean that quite literally. You were devastated when it broke a few years back, more so because at that time, your mum was no longer with you to take you back and buy you another one.

You miss her dearly.

The memory lures you over to a stall where, behind the counter decorated in bracelets, sits an elderly woman twisting thread into an intricate pattern. She gives you a welcoming nod as you appreciate her works of art.

"You like these things?" Tom's voice brings you from thought. He picks one up with callous hands, handling it very negligently. "Think they're a waste of money to be honest."

"Yes, I do actually," you hiss. "My mum bought me one years ago and I kept it until it broke. Not had one since."

Tom nods apologetically, deciding not to comment any further. He knows how much you miss your mum. At least it's one thing he's remembered from your relationship.

"What one do you like?" He asks. You turn to him, eyebrow raising quizzically. Regardless, you spot a vibrant pink, purple and blue one tied together with a silver infinity symbol. It's eye-catching, yet the detail looks effortless.

"This one. It's nice but I don't have any cash," you hopelessly mumble, placing it back into its display rack. Surprisingly, Tom picks it back up and makes a motion to the woman, who cheerfully accepts the cash handed over by him. Beguiled eyes watch as he then reaches for your hand and neatly ties the bracelet around your wrist.

"There." For the first time in what seems like years, Tom throws you a genuine smile. You almost forgot about the way his eyes twinkle when he smiles, but you also forgot that every time you saw that smile, it made your insides melt.

"Thank you." You would be lying to yourself if you said that his spontaneous act of generosity hasn't changed your mind about him. Swaying more towards favourable thoughts, you perk up at the idea that maybe Lola was right to give this a shot. Maybe this is the start of something promising…

Four of you surround the rectangular table in the centre of the restaurant. You would be thankful if the perimeter was large enough to create at least some space between you and Tom, alas the world hates you and fate has landed you with what might just possibly be the smallest table in the room. Elbows brushing and knees knocking, you're forced to push back every nagging thought about the situation. You promised to be more accommodating, you promised to be more accommodating…

You peer over across the table to see Lola and Harrison in deep discussion, heads sinking low into the menus trying to decide, with great conviction it seems, whether they want pizza with chips or pizza with pasta. 'But if we get chips we'll need to order two portions but if we order a pizza and pasta then we can just half them…'

"Oh dear God," you mutter to yourself, rolling your head around your neck. Your reaction elicits a snigger from Tom, seemingly just as fed up listening to their quarrels as he blankly stares into the space in front of him. It only takes a slight glance to your right to see that Tom is sending you a quizzical brow, jaw tensing with an emotion you can’t quite read. Considering you're being forced to sit inches from him it's not exactly the hardest thing to miss. You may as well be just be rubbing shoulders with each other.

"What you sniggering at?" you mutter, eyes forward.

"Give them time to pick their food.”

"Oh because it's not like you to not be able to make your mind up," you say, a scathing voice leaking through. He turns his head a full 90 degrees with his eyes locked on you, going undetected by Harrison and Lola. You choose to keep your head locked on the pair across from you knowing that if you were to turn your head, your noses would literally brush.

"What's that supposed to mean?”

Accommodating, accommodating, this isn't being accommodating…

"Nothing, doesn't matter." You reach for your glass of water, swallowing not just the water, but the bitter words that were just about to spill from your mouth. "Sorry."

"No, go on. Tell me. You're clearly dying to." Well, if that's what he wishes.

'What kind of pizza are you getting? I don't want anything with mushrooms...'

"We mutually agreed to be civil and nothing more, and now all of a sudden we're friends? What exactly is it you want, Tom, because there's a lot of mixed signals and I can't be bothered trying to figure them out."

"I just want us to get along. Is that so hard to ask?"

'But now I don't know if I even want pizza. What do you think the BBQ ribs are like?'

"I don't know! You told me you never loved me-"

"I never meant that-"

"Didn't you? It's news to me." It's not really, but you know what they say: new clothes are better than hand-me-downs.

'I can't decide. Maybe I should just get the chicken instead...'

"JUST GET PIZZA!" You and Tom both shout across the table. Honestly it didn't need much volume to catch their attention, although you may have caught the attention of the surrounding 5 tables and the waitress behind the counter. The two blithering idiots look up in a state of shock, mouths hanging agape. Awkward looks are thrown across the table before they settle the menus down-

-and immediately start laughing. The four of you find the hilarity in the moment and embrace it as quickly as the heated moment between you and Tom dissipates. You throw him a glance, your eyes saying it all as you convey your apologies and thankfully he catches it, responding likewise with the addition of a playful nudge of his shoulder. And like that, the conversation moves onto something else. You have a funny feeling that the same conversation might find itself back to you eventually, maybe at a better time where you're slightly more level-headed, but yesterday's emotions are still haunting both you and Tom. Now's not the time.

The waitress comes over to the table. You and Tom order your lunch, plain and simple. She then turns to the pair across from you. Lola orders first.

"Um, can I have the spaghetti bolognese?”

"And can I have the chicken wings with the buffalo sauce? Oh, and a side of chips."

~~~~

Lunch goes by rather quickly after the outburst. All the steam was let loose sooner rather than later, and things have seemed to have returned to civility.

So…friends?

The sea's wind brushes upon your features as you inhale the familiar salty scent of the beach. You can't wait to relax, you really deserve it given the stress of the past couple of days. The group sets up point at an empty space near the pier, all four of you settling down your towels and finding repose under the weight of the sun's heat. The boys strip down to their swimming trunks, eyes immediately averting when Tom takes his top off, knowing all too well you can’t trust to keep yourself at bay. Neither can Lola apparently. First glance and she’s shooting you a stern look, easily translated to ‘what the fuck? Your ex-boyfriend is ripped!’

Oh, how you know.

It doesn't take long before you grow curious of the pier above you, and it doesn't take long before your cravings for a chilling ice cream becomes insatiable.

"I'm going to get some an ice cream, anyone want one?”

"Nah," says Lola.

"I'm good, thanks," responds Harrison.

"I'll have one," says Tom. Of course. You catch the quick glance shared between Harrison and Lola, not long before smirks don their faces. Never mind, you promised yourself you would be accommodating so you hold back the eye roll and turn to Tom.

"Okay, what do you want?" Before he even answers the question, he begins to pack his stuff together, just like how you are.

"Don't worry, I'll come with you." Oh, well...alright then. Guess you have no other option.

As you both set off, nerves begin creep up as the thought that this will be the first time you've been alone with him since your relationship nestles into your mind.

The two of you walk along the pier and already you've undermined how long the pier actually is; the end is far beyond what the eye can see which just means more quality time with Tom. What's worse is that the pier’s incredible length gives the uncertainty of the situation the advantage over you. How can you possibly prepare any defences for what could happen?

Initially, you pay no attention to the lack of conversation and instead appreciate the view before you, counting every yacht, ferry and cruise you see in the distance. It doesn't seem to bother you as much as it does Tom because as of right now, he's fighting to find something to say to you.

"I...er..." he starts, but doesn't finish. You let him take his time knowing that if you blurted out the witty comment you're currently holding back, you would be getting your ice cream by yourself. "It's a nice day," he points out. God, this is painful.

"Yeah, it really is."

"Seems familiar though, like I'm getting deja vu," he remarks as he observes his surroundings. You had that same thought too, but you can't place a finger on it..."Oh wait!" he exclaims, "I'm thinking of Brighton Palace Pier. I had went there a long time ago and I had bought myself an ice cream and this fucking seagull flew in and stole it from me," he softly chuckles.

"I know," you mutter, "I was there." That's probably why being on a pier seems so familiar to both of you, and now that he mentions it, the forgotten memory becomes even more lucid. It was your birthday and you and Tom had happily been going out for a couple of months by this point. He treated you to a day at Brighton; the one place you had always wanted to go...and he was the person to take you there.

Despite the happy memory, his smile drops, realising he's brought up the painful past.

"It was quite funny though. You had been looking forward to that ice cream all day." His smile perks up again and the twinkle in his eye suddenly becomes the brightest thing you see. Insides are melting again.

"And you gave me yours," he mutters back. You look down to ground with a modest smile, remembering how happy that made him and clearly he remembers it just as well as you do. The reminiscence of your past feeds your sense of longing, aching to live those times where it seemed like life wasn't out to get you, and all you knew was happiness.

All you knew was Tom.

But he didn't love you.

As you make your way along the pier, the brushing of your hands and the 'accidental' bumping of shoulders starts to become a regular occurrence. Perked up by your recent conversation, Tom's confidence in talking to you manifests and he starts to talk about things you both would have avoided just days before.

"Listen, you know I didn't mean what I said yesterday-“

"Tom we've already settled this-" Don't ruin this.

"But I need you to know that sorry doesn't even begin to cover it. Look-" he pulls you over to the piers edge, overlooking the sea below you. Harrison and Lola simply dots in the distance. "I just wanted to make sure that you know that what I said wasn't true...I did love you.”

"Then why did you say you didn't?" Your voice breaks, thinking back to the most hurtful thing anyone could've said to you.

He sighs, his head sinking low to the ground, frustration already taking its place in the conversation. "I wasn't thinking straight. I had let my frustration get the better of me and I'm sorry. Honestly, if I could go back, I would change it. Everything. I should've been the better man, but I couldn't bring myself to…"

"...to what?”

"To break up with you face to face.”

That was one thing about the end of your relationship with Tom that bothered you the most. You thought he didn't care, you thought that the whole relationship had been for nothing; an act that he simply adopted and was finished with when he sent you that text. You never saw him again after that. What's worse was that you blame yourself for not being good enough for him. You desperately wanted to know how, what and why the relationship fizzled out so suddenly. You sought closure for so long, that was, until you just had to give in and accept that your much-needed closure was just always going to be a stretch too far. Your lack of an explanation left you in denial, followed shortly by the rivalry that stemmed from the break up, which brings you to the current moment in time.

But there's something in the way that he's acting and saying everything that makes you think he's not disclosing something. Something that's bothering him, more so than ever. You always suspected something was amiss in him when he said he didn't love you. The shock in his own eyes, the regret, the shame. Something just didn't add up.

"Tom..." he looks up, glassy eyes meet yours, "why did we break up?”

At first he refuses to answer, all the while your mind is searching for reasons why. Is he embarrassed? Ashamed? Scared?

Or lying, your conscience tells you.

"Please..." you say again, this time you're adamant for his attention, "what are you not telling me?" You even go as far as to place your hand on his arm, gripping it ever so slightly. Years of undisclosed information could all be revealed to you now and with that realisation the familiar feeling of desperation resurfaces.

From what you can remember from your versions of events is that he broke up with you. How could you forget that harrowing text?

~~~~

You decided to spend the rest of your day at home, continuing to work through the relentless number of tasks that your pitiless boss keeps adding to. Instinctively you glance at your phone and still not a word from Tom. It's very unlike him. Wonder what he's up to...

Nevertheless, you direct your working mind to your laptop, setting all distractions aside and keeping them under wraps. Your priority is work. Always has been, always will be.

You love your job. You love your job. You love your jo-wonder why Tom isn't responding to your texts?

Damnit! You clutch your phone bringing it just inches from your face with Tom's name plastered over the screen.

'Hey, you alright? Haven't heard from you, just wondering if you're okay x’

You set your phone down, face down, and anxiously wait for that monotonous alert to ring through your isolated home. With Tom's lack of communication you figure that he might make you wait, uncertain as to how long, but at least he knows you're worried about him.

Much to your surprise, he's quick to respond, but when you look at the message he's sent you, you start to wish he wasn’t...

'I can't do this anymore. Goodbye.’

~~~~

"I...er..." he begins, swallowing a thick lump in his throat, "I never actually wanted to break up with you," he whispers, head sinking in shame.

Shocked doesn't even begin to describe how you're feeling. A whirlwind of thoughts, feelings, anxieties and regret reduces your mind to ashes. Everything you've ever said, thought or believed about Tom could all just be a lie. All these years believing that it was something you said or done, that it was unfortunate luck that made the last few years of your life absolute living hell but in reality, it was never your fault.

And Tom's only just revealed this to you now.

"Wha-" you choke, suddenly finding your throat has gone dry. "What do you mean?”

"I never told you because I didn't have the heart to, and the way you responded actually helped the situation-“

"W-what the fuck are you talking about?!”

"The reason why we broke up was because I had to leave! I knew I was going to be away from you for a long time and I didn't think I was going to be able to cope!" Hopelessly yelling, he sinks his head into his hands, his regret resurfacing. You, on the other hand, don't know what emotion to bring up. Still not fully understanding the situation, you continue to pry.

"Why did you have to leave?”

His wide eyes find themselves latched onto you once more in a desperate plea to end the interrogation, to save him from drowning in the memories he had hoped to leave behind; the ones you wanted to leave behind.

“I landed a major role. But where they wanted me to work at was in America, too far away from where we lived at the time. I...I didn't know what to do! You had your job, your friends, your family, your whole future ahead of you. I didn't want to ruin that for you and make you leave that all behind for me! I wanted you to be happier, even though I might not have liked it, I had to go." Anger bubbles at your core. Every single day you have lived since him has been wasted wrongfully abasing yourself, despite your conscience knowing that there was nothing you could do. It was over. You couldn't fix it and the thought had broken you. But that fire had been put out long ago when you eventually got over him, but now he's only just relit that flame, growing more ferocious than ever before.

In an attempt to bring the fire to a stable condition, you gulp down air, taming the flames.

"You didn't even ask," you lowly hiss, pulling in the reigns of what could be a major breakdown. "How could you have known what I would've said? Instead you just left me, broke my heart, broke me. And what's worse is that you left me to believe that it was all my fault, something I had done to make you break up with me.”

"That was never-" You raise your hand, denying him permission to speak. He's had years to clear this up but he's missed his chance. You can feel your eyes becoming glossier and it doesn't take long before Tom notices that one stray tear rolling down your cheek.

"For what's worth, Tom," you gulp, emotions catching up on you, "I would've moved...for you. Because I love-loved you. All you had to do was ask.”

Without a moment to spare, you turn on your heels and head back towards the beach leaving Tom no room for thought in your mind. As you walk away from him, your ears tune out his final words as you distance yourself from him.

'Wait, no, please, I still love you!’

Pain.

"Where's Tom?" Lola cautiously asks as soon as she notices you storming back alone. You don't give her your answer, only do you let her know that you're retreating back to the chalet by collecting your belongings. Hopefully by the time you get there, you will have confirmed your decision to leave unequivocally.

~~~~

It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault. It was his. It was his fault and you didn't do anything wrong. You weren't bad luck. It was all him. It. Was. His. Fault.

Packing your belongings furiously into your petite suitcase, you continuously mutter the mantra to yourself in the hope that it will keep at least half sane. How you would kill to be back at home with the memories of the last couple of days buried here, never to be touched ever again. You need to move on and walk away, you can't let your past get a grip of you and hold you down. You need to leave now.

Pieces of clothing are sprawled across your floor in a hopeless attempt to get everything rounded up and shoved into the suitcase but your frustration is getting the better of you. Every minor inconvenience is a battle, every teardrop is a part of you bleeding out and every noise is a headache. You dedicate all of your strength to push in your belongings but your emotions are even stronger. You push and you push until you give in and your broken body sinks into the heaps of clothing spilling from your case.

You keep telling yourself you're furious, but who are you kidding? You're broken.

Knock, knock, knock.

"It's Lola," she mutters, voice muted by the wooden door separating you. You don't respond and continue packing your things. "Can I come in?" Nope. "Please?" Bye.

However Lola being Lola, she comes in anyway.

"What are you doing?”

Isn't jamming my things into suitcase obvious enough?

"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm going home," you spit.

"But-but how? I drove you here, and-and what about Tom - why is he a wreck?”

"Tom's finished with. Sorry Lola but it isn't happening. Don't suppose he told you what he said up on the pier, did he?" She shakes her head, eyes wide with what almost seems like distress. "Don't suppose he told the real reason why we broke up?" She shakes her head again. "Well, I'll leave him to explain it because I'm leaving here."

"Are you serious?”

"Yes, I'm serious!" you bellow. "I'm sorry but I have to get away from here. I'll get a bus, or a train back to London, don't worry about me. Spend the rest of the weekend having fun, celebrate, get with Harrison, do whatever you want, I just can't be here with him."

You can see her slowly but surely concurring with your decision, sighing very obviously, but giving you that all-knowing look to let you know she's finally accepted your answer.

"Is - is there anything I can do?”

"You can help me pack…"

Like clockwork, the two of you work in a system that within a short amount of time, you successfully collect all of your things together neatly packed in your case as the zip closes with ease: much better than the mountain of mess you had made earlier. The last thing you need to do now is say goodbye.

Standing ever so patiently at the bay window, you look out for your taxi to take you to the station. Lola thankfully discloses to you that Harrison and Tom are still down at the beach and that she would, rather regretfully she admits, inform them of your respite. Looking around once again at the mesmerising chalet, you sigh in defeat thinking about how this place could've had so much potential to hold special memories for you, but instead you have no other option but to try your best to forget it given recent events. It's a shame really. It could've been fun.

Key word: could’ve.

The taxi arrives and the driver assists you with your luggage as you bid Lola farewell and wish her the best of luck with the two remaining boys.

"This is daft. I'll see you in a couple of days when I get back anyway."

"I know, but this is me half apologising for leaving you with Tom, and half wishing you luck with your romantic endeavours," you smirk.

"Mark my words, if I have to deal with a mopey Tom for the rest of the holiday you have got something coming for you on Monday.”

“Bye!"

And like that, you are whisked away back to London, leaving your past behind.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem #fluff #excape to the countryside #part 1 #tom holland series #original character #harrison osterfield #tomholland

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

Hayloft (p.1)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts...)

Warnings: Abuse, mentions of drinking, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

__________________

When your car finally pulled up the old dirt driveway to your family's farm house, the sun was already setting, casting an orange hue over the acres of land that your father had inherited from his father. It was beautiful, really. The sun was behind your old two story home made of wood planks that were covered in chipping white paint. The door’s paint was also chipping, only this time it was old navy blue paint - at least that’s the color it was supposed to be when it was painted who knows how many decades ago - that peeled back to reveal the wood beneath.

Your father’s truck wasn’t in the driveway yet when you pulled up and you sighed in relief because it gave you the opportunity to get dinner started before he got home. You headed straight for the kitchen. The only moment taken for yourself was the moment of silence when you leaned against the counter top and stretched out your back from the long day's work at the diner. The refrigerator was mostly empty and you made a mental note to run to the store after work tomorrow before your father could notice the lack of food. Thankfully, there was still enough scraps to piece something together for tonight between the fridge and the cupboards.

The house was swimming with the delicious scent of herbs, onions, potatoes, and stock as you boiled a stew on the stove when you heard the front door open. “Hi, Daddy! How was work?” You asked over your shoulder before you even heard his steps enter the kitchen, not actually caring but knowing he’d be upset if you didn’t ask.

He came around the corner but you could hear from the moment the door opened that there were the footsteps of more than one person entering your home. With a frown, you turned from the stove and took a few steps so you could see around the wall that blocked your view of the front door but your father and new mystery person stepped around that corner and into the kitchen before you could get that far. You stopped in your tracks, startled by their sudden appearance, and your hand flew to your chest as your eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry!” You chuckled awkwardly, apologizing for your jumpiness, “Didn’t think you’d be comin’ in here.”

It was a man about your age that stood just behind your father, a navy baseball cap twisted in his hands and his footsteps light so as to not knock dirt off onto the floor from his work boots, both welcomed displays of manners that you appreciated, unlike your father who left a trail of chunks of dried mud and grease everywhere he walked. This new boy, though, he was cute. Short curly hair that was messy, either from work or wearing the hat, big expressive brown eyes that reminded you of a puppy in the best possible way, a tight lipped expression that showed he was a little nervous and uncomfortable to be here, they were all a welcome, albeit unexpected, surprise.

"Work was good. This here is Arvin Russel. He'll be staying with us, at least for the night." Your eyes flicked back to the boy you now knew as Arvin when your dad introduced him and your heart skipped a beat at the eye contact.

He nodded his head slightly, a small cordial smile flashing on his face for just a moment, "Pleasure to meet you,..."

"Y/N. It's nice to meet you as well. If you're staying the night, let me add some water to the soup and then I'll go make up the spare bed." You pointed your thumb over your shoulder towards the pot of stew that was nearly done.

"That's very kind of you. Thank you."

Before you could notice him moving, your dad was already beside the fridge and you reached out to try to stop him before he could open it. "Let me get you something! What about you, Arvin? You want a beer or some water?" You scurried to try and beat your dad to the fridge that you knew would earn you a reprimanding that you didn’t deserve.

You were too late though and your dad already swung the door open wide. You stepped back nervously, rubbing the sharp edge of your nails against your thumb. "It's damn near empty." He noted, voice stiff and dissatisfied. He stood, managing to produce the last two beers from the refrigerator before slamming it shut.

You flinched at the loud sound, hearing the few glass jars of preserves and jams clanging against each other inside from the force. Your eyes rolled beneath closed lids at his overdramatic reaction, even though it was one you expected. "I'm gonna hit the market after work tomorrow but I checked that we have enough for dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow." Your voice was sweet and placating, careful to respond in a way that would keep his temper in check.

"It's that damn job of yours. I told you women shouldn't be working. They belong in the house where you should be. Now look. You went and let the kitchen run out." He passed Arvin a beer, which he reluctantly accepted, watching the way your father pointed his finger at you accusingly. “Ain’t no man gonna want a wife who can’t even keep the kitchen stocked up.”

Your tongue was raw inside from biting down on it so hard in order to keep yourself in line, as he called it. You didn't need a blow out tonight, not with Arvin here. "I manage to work and keep up with the house just fine, Daddy. We just got a little low on groceries but I'll be heading to the market tomorrow to fix it. Don’t you worry." Even you were surprised with how even and sweet your voice came out, that ever present fire of anger towards your father having been fanned into a decent blaze.

He popped the tab on his beer and sighed, dropping the topic for the time being, "Fine. But make sure to pick up some fixin's for that chicken roast you make. Patty is lookin' nice and fat in the coop so why don't you cook her up tomorrow."

You grimaced at the thought. Patty was one of the chickens in your coop out back that had been pretty slow when it came to laying eggs but you’d grown attached to her nonetheless. Ever since you were a young girl, your daddy warned you not to become attached to the animals out back but you never listened. Back then, you’d had your mother to step in and convince him not to kill the animals for whatever reason she could come with and opt for buying meat from the market instead. You hadn’t been able to convince him like that since she’d passed. Everything had been different since she passed.

“I don’t know, Daddy. Patty’s been layin’ a lot of eggs lately and we’ve been gettin’ extra money from sellin’ all those eggs. Why don’t I just pick up a chicken in town tomorrow at the store.” You insisted, walking back over to the stove to stir the stew.

“Don’t go wastin’ money on things we already got! We got some chickens out back. Just cook one of ‘em up tomorrow!” Your father’s voice was hard and stern now, enough to fill the air with tension in Arvin’s presence. You turned slowly, making eye contact with Arvin briefly before quickly avoiding it. You didn’t like the way he stood awkwardly, silently watching the interaction he clearly didn’t think highly of. Your father was already getting worked up and it would only get worse the longer the night went on.

Biting your cheek, you nodded, “Yes, sir. Now why don’t you boys go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in just a minute.”

Dinner went relatively well, despite your father’s occasional grumblings about there not being any beer. Once you finished, you stood up and picked up yours and your father’s bowls before noticing Arvin’s was empty as well. “Did you want some more? There’s just enough for one more if you’d like it.” You offered Arvin that last bit of stew but he just shook his head and stood up.

“Oh, no thank you miss. Dinner was delicious though. Let me help with that.” He grabbed his own bowl before your hand could reach it and then took the bowls from your hands as well before setting them down at the sink.

You chased after him, “Thank you but you don’t have to do that! Please, sit. I’ll make your bed up when I’m finished cleaning up dinner.”

“She’s right, son. Kitchen ain’t no place for a man. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you the room you’ll be stayin’ in.” You father’s chair screeched against the beat up wooden floor as he stood, beckoning Arvin to him.

Arvin was standing right beside you, his arm only a few inches from yours as he lowered the stack of bowls into the sink. He looked over at you with deep soulful eyes that seemed to look right through your calm facade in a way that made you feel seen like never before. It was highly uncomfortable, almost violating after all these years of hiding away what you felt for the sake of keeping the peace, and you forced a smile, “Please, you’re our guest. It wouldn’t be right to make you do the dishes. You go with him.”

He gave you a drawn out hesitant look but turned away nonetheless and walked towards your dad. “Thank you again for letting me stay here till I get things figured out. It’s mighty kind of you.” Arvin thanked you and your father for your hospitality, shooting you one last glance over his shoulder before following your father down up the stairs towards the spare room.

You made quick work of the dishes, having cleaned most of them as you were cooking earlier anyways and scurried to the closet that held your extra sheets. As you passed the bathroom, you heard the shower running and knew it was your father bathing after his long day of work, like he always did right after dinner. The man was a creature of habit.

With your arms full of neatly folded faded steel blue linens and the thicker burnt sienna colored wool blanket, you made your way towards the guest room Arvin was staying in to find the door wide open and the man looking through his bag that was set on the bed. “Knock knock,” you announced your presence, waiting at the entryway for Arvin to notice you before entering.

He spun around, dropping something that you didn’t see quickly into his bag and pressing it down while flashing you a small polite smile, “Hello, ma’am.”

You walked into the room, raising the linens in your hands, “I brought some sheets so I could make up your bed.” You walked over to the wooden chair and set the top sheet down before making your way back over to the bed, unfolding the bottom sheet as you did, waving it up and down in the air to straighten it out before laying it flat on the bed.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, miss,” He moved his bag to the ground and jumped to lift the corner of the mattress and tuck the sheet beneath it.

You blushed at his kindness, not used to such help from your father, but shook your head, tucking the sheet beneath the mattress on the opposite side of the bed “If my daddy came in and saw you fixin’ the bed yourself, he’d kill me,” you chuckled to make it sound like a joke but you knew better than that. He wouldn’t actually kill you but you would certainly get some less than kind words thrown your way, maybe even a few beer cans thrown your way depending on how drunk he was.

Arvin shook his head, his hands falling on his hips, “Looks like you do most the housework ‘round here.” What he was insinuating was clear even though his tone didn’t change but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. He didn’t need to concern himself with the difficulties between you and your father.

“So how’d you and my dad meet?” You changed the topic, going to grab the top sheet and unfolding it. You laid it over the bed and tucked your side in, Arvin reaching down to tuck his side in as well in a silent act of defiance against your insistence that he didn’t need to help. It occurred to you suddenly after the question left your lips that you didn’t actually know anything about this boy but, for some reason, you still didn’t feel uneasy around him.

Arvin pulled the top corner of the sheet up to the head of the bed as he answered, “I just started workin’ at the garage with ‘im.”

“You like cars?” You questioned, spreading out the final layer on the bed, the wool blanket.

Arvin shrugged, “Never been really into ‘em but I can fix ‘em alright enough. Just needed the work and happened to see the wanted sign when I was passin’ through town.”

Your brow raised in curiosity, “You were just passin’ through and stopped in this old town cause of a help wanted sign?” The little town you lived in wasn’t terrible but it was far from a destination that people really moved to for work unless you a doctor desperate for a place to practice or something like that. “You must really be desperate,” you joked but immediately felt a slight pang of regret when a shred of truth could be seen in his eyes.

“Just tryna figure out where I’m goin’ ‘n what I wanna do. Figure I’ll find somewhere I like eventually.” Arvin picked up his bag and set it off to the side where it was a little more out of the way.

You stared at the man standing before you, taking every bit of him from the grease stains on his white t-shirt to his scuffed up brown work boots to his messy hair, dirty from dried sweat. It wasn’t until you locked eyes with him that you realized that you’d been staring in a settled yet weirdly comfortable silence. You stood up straight and smiled to diffuse the awkwardness you’d unintentionally fostered, “You’re more than welcome to take a shower. My daddy should be finished any second. I’ll set some extra towels in there for you.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” He nodded in appreciation but offered no further conversation. You could tell from the moment of silence that it was time for you to make your exit.

“Well, uh, I better head to bed. You need anything before I go?” You asked, backing towards the door and swinging slightly with it once your hand hit the old bronze knob.

Arvin shook his head, “No, thank you. ‘M all set.”

“Alrighty, then. You have a good night.” You chewed your lip as you opened the door to make your exit.

“G’night, miss Y/N.”

Butterflies flew wildly in your belly as you walked to your bedroom. It had been a long while since you’d seen somebody worth looking twice at in this old town but now a mysterious handsome man rolls into town and stays with you. In your house. It probably wasn’t the safest of situations but Arvin genuinely looked like a nice man. From your very brief interactions with him, you couldn’t really imagine him trying to hurt you or your father for no reason. Even if he did, you knew where your daddy kept his shotgun and you had no problem defending yourself. But like I said, you had an unearned sense of peace with Arvin that you hoped wasn’t a misjudgement.

“What’re you smilin’ ‘bout?” Your father’s gruff but thankfully not entirely drunk voice made you stop in your tracks and turn towards his room with a suppressed groan. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom in nothing but an undershirt and long johns with his suspenders hanging loosely at his sides.

You shook the smile off your face. “Just thought of somethin’ funny that happened at work,'' you lied. “You need somethin’?”

“I watched you come out o’ that boy’s room with a big ol’ grin on your face. Better not let me catch you ‘n him. Ain’t no daughter o’ mine gonna be whorin’ around with some boy blowin’ through town, y’hear?” He threatened, his hands reaching down to pull up his worn out long johns.

Your blood boiled at the accusation and despite your best efforts to keep peace while Arvin was here, you spat words with venom, “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ with Arvin. God forbid I have a damn smile on my face.” Your voice was low enough so that you hoped your guest hadn’t heard your outburst but when your father’s face darkened and he began taking slow, heavy steps towards you, you weren’t sure if your charade of normalcy would last much longer.

Your father hovered over you, exaggerating the size difference between the two of you, “I put a roof over your head. I put food on the table. You play make believe with that little diner job but I'm the head of this house. I'm your father. You watch that fuckin’ tone with me girl."

Your jaw was clenched tightly, matching your fists, as you glared up at him with indignantly furious eyes. Father your ass. He once had been your father, an imperfect but loving man who used to try. Now he was merely a selfish broken sperm donor. He inherited this house from his father, didn’t pay a darn cent, and you couldn't remember the last time he pitched in a dime for anything but alcohol and the occasional dinner he made when he was in a good mood. He did do that- have these strange out of character nights where he pretended to be kind and loving. They were far and few between though and, while you enjoyed the change of pace, it felt like walking on eggshells in some fantasy world.

A heavy silence settled between the two of you that crackled with a tension that could snap at any moment and turn into a full blown fight. Your eyes were narrowed on his as you refused to let him think he intimidated you anymore. Nevertheless, you turned on your heel, nails digging into your palm, and walked down the hall towards your room, leaving him alone.

“He wouldn’t want you anyways, fuckin’ attitude like that.” Your father grumbled to your back, hoping for one last reaction out of you that you refused to give.

It took all the control in the world to not slam the door in his face but you knew there was no way it would escape Arvin’s attention. You’d have to resort to the therapy of muffling your furious tear-soaked screams into your pillow until you finally fell asleep, like you did many nights.

#arvin russel imagine #arvin russell x reader #Arvin Russell #arvin x reader #arvin russell x you #arvin russel x you #arvin russel x reader #tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #The Devil All The Time #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tdatt fics

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Happiness, I’m sorry you’ve been on hold.

Request: Could you do a one shot of Fred Weasley after the war, where he doesn’t die and actually falls in love with a muggle. And he tells her about wizards and meets his family? Thank you!

A/N: So this is now the longest thing I have ever written. My aim for this was to make it equal parts angst and equal parts fluff because I think Fred deserves all the fluff. Thank you so much for requesting this! I hope I have done it justice! Please read the warnings before reading this fic should anything trigger - you come first, not fic reading. Also, if anyone can name the TV shows I mention in this, you get a gold star! Title from Volbeat - For Evigt. I hope you all enjoy, I know it’s long!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of war, depression, insomnia, PTSD, swearing, food, but THERE IS SO MUCH FLUFF - SO MUCH (as well as a bit of steaminess).

Word count: 13.3k

The voices have blurred into a senseless mess; Fred can only just make out the deep timbre of adult males and the high pitched shouts of students. He doesn’t need to hear the words to know that spells are being thrown left, right, and centre.

He does his fair share of fighting; hurling jinx after jinx at any Death Eater he comes upon.

The corridor he runs down is moaning and groaning as if ready to collapse, but Fred continues, his breath coming in pants. His eyes run over the bodies of students and teachers; his heart beginning the painful mourning process then and there.

Someone shouts; he doesn’t know who.

Something creaks; he doesn’t know what.

A brilliant flash of light bounces in front of his eyes, and he feels himself blown away just as the wall beside him starts to collapse.

Whether from shock or from injury, his vision fades to black.

Fred wakes with a start; heart racing, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream, hands gripping the bedsheets in a vice-tight hold.

With his eyes closed, he takes a deep breath before he begins to go through his exercise. An exercise he repeats nightly.

Aloud he says their names like a mantra: “Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Ginny.”

He does this over and over again until his heart rate calms, and his hands can release the bedsheets.

Fred checks the clock; 3am. He nods, sighing. Three hours sleep.

Fred supposes he should be thankful. After all, it’s three hours more than he got the night before.

He leaves his bed, dragging his feet to the kitchen where with a flick of his wand, the kettle begins to boil, and teabag drops itself into his favourite mug – his only mug.

The Second Wizard War had been over for almost a year now, and for the most part, life had returned to normal. Routines were picked back up and time had simply started to move on.

But Fred felt stuck.

He couldn’t shake the nightmares; keeping the house up with his screams. He couldn’t face opening the shop up despite George’s best attempts at pleading.

He didn’t have it in him to laugh.

He felt broken; as if something vital within him snapped in two the day he avoided the winged clutches of death.

Settling on the couch with his now steeping mug of tea, Fred resigns himself to the fact that he won’t be getting anymore sleep tonight.

The TV plays lowly in the background, a rerun of an old British sitcom set in a prison playing. Fred pays it little to no attention; instead, looking around the small flat he’s called home for the last eight months of his life. The walls are sparsely decorated; a few photos hung up but nothing that screams his personality. His cupboards remain filled just enough for one person, as does his fridge. It’s a flat fit for a hermit; Fred thinks that’s what he’s become.

He decided to leave home two months after the end of the war. When he started to notice the dark circles underneath his mother’s eyes and realised that he was the cause of them – his nightmares and his screams.

Molly cried when he left; worried sick over how he would look after himself and cope. Fred reassured her and made a promise to send letters twice a week – a promise he has yet to break.

George was understandably angry with his twin’s decision, but he knew that deep down that Fred needed to go to heal so he can laugh in the shop once again.

With a tight hug from his parents and siblings alike, Fred began his new life in muggle society.

A frantic knock at his door has Fred spilling his tea and falling out of his reminiscing. Jumping up from the couch, his hand grabs his wand, ready to defend himself should he need to.

His breath comes in quick pants as a result of the adrenaline and panic coursing through his system. The only people who know where he lives are his family with the added bonus of Harry, Hermione and Lee Jordan; no-one else had his address.

The frantic knocking continues; becoming quicker if it was at all possible. Fred swallows past the lump in his throat as he unlocks his door, wrenching it open in a swift movement, ready to confront whatever was on the other side.

Fred wasn’t prepared for it to be you.

You stand in front of his flat with a wild look on your face; equal parts terror and panic. Your hand is still raised in a fist, ready to rain down on the faded red of his door. You only just stop yourself from pounding your fist into his chest.

“Can I help you?” Fred greets.

“I’m so sorry, I know how late it is, but I need your help.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “What with?”

You toe his welcome mat sheepishly, pointing towards your flat next door to his. “There’s a massive spider in my bathroom and I’m too scared to kill it myself.”

“You’re knocking down my door at this time in the morning for a spider?” Fred asks incredulously.

You glare at him, “This isn’t just any spider, okay? It’s massive; I can practically see its kneecaps!” You huff, placing your hands on your hips, “Will you please help me?”

Fred leans against the doorframe, a smirk gracing his lips, “What’s in it for me?”

You purse your lips; eyes glancing between the red-headed man vexing you and the door to your flat where you know the spider is waiting to make a mockery of you. You sigh, deciding the former is the lesser evil than the latter, “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“You’ll buy me breakfast for killing a spider?”

You nod rapidly, “Yes, I’ll buy you breakfast, and I’ll even fork out extra for hash browns, just please kill the spider.”

Fred pauses; pretending to think it over in order to annoy you that little bit more. It had been a while since he had taken the time to vex someone; he had to admit he was rather enjoying getting on your nerves.

“Well?” You press, tapping your foot on his welcome mat, “Will you help me or not?”

Fred pushes himself off the doorframe, keeping his wand concealed in his shirt sleeve. He bows at the waist with a cocky smile on his lips, “Lead the way, my lady.”

You roll your eyes at the man; not remembering a time when a man had gotten on your nerves to this extent. You lead him into your flat; his eyes wandering over the heavily decorated walls and the over-filled bookshelves. You pause outside the door to your bathroom, biting your lip as you face the red-haired man, “I last saw it in the sink. It could have moved now.”

Fred nods, “Don’t worry, I’ll find it. Do you have a boot or something I could use?”

You turn away from him, heading back to the entryway where he saw piles upon piles of shoes. “I don’t have a boot,” you start, “but I do have a pair of trainers.”

“They’ll work,” Fred reassures, taking them from your hands.

You throw him a thumbs-up before retreating a few paces into your living room. You haul yourself onto the couch, much to Fred’s amusement, as if the spider is going to come running out of the bathroom to exact its revenge on you for throwing your pot of face cream at it before you sprinted out of your flat.

“Good luck,” You state as Fred opens the door to your bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Fred runs his eyes around your bathroom, looking for the eight-legged arachnid that’s caused this much trouble at this time in the morning. He finds it in no time; still stuck in your sink, unable to make its way up the smooth porcelain sides.

It doesn’t take Fred long to dispose of the spider; trapping it with a spell and flinging it out of the window. For extra measure, and to not alert you to his magic, he slams the trainer down on the tiled floor of your bathroom. Fred even goes so far as to scrunch up some tissue in his hand to make it look as if he had gotten the spider.

If he can avoid it, Fred won’t kill another living creature. In the short span of his life, Fred had seen too much death, and he knows he doesn’t want to be witness to anymore.

Upon opening the door, Fred finds you stood in the exact same place but with a rolled up magazine in your hand. He wants to laugh at the sight, but he can’t dredge up the will to do so. Instead, he holds up the scrunched up tissue and your trainer, declaring, “It’s gone. I got rid of it.”

You jump down from the couch, pottering over to him. The rolled up magazine still in your hand, “It’s in there?”

Fred nods, a little white lie won’t hurt you and he doubts the spider would return. “Do you have somewhere I can put this?” he asks, waving the tissue around.

“Of course, the kitchen is over here.” You lead him to the small kitchenette where he disposes of the empty tissue. You take your trainer off him and Fred claps his hands together as if he’s completed a job well done.

“Right,” He starts, “If you don’t need me for anything else…”

Your eyes widen as if suddenly aware what time it is and how long you’ve kept him, “Of course!” you cry, “I didn’t realise the time, you’ll want to be getting back to sleep. Thank you for all your help…” you trail off, realising you don’t know his name.

“Fred. My name is Fred.”

“Fred,” You smile, “I’m (Y/N).”

“I’m glad I could help, (Y/N),” Fred says, making his way to your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

You frown, “Breakfast?”

“You owe me? For killing the spider, remember?”

You hold your hand to your forehead, “Yes! I remember. How does meeting at half past nine sound? I want to get some sleep before I meet you again.”

“Half nine it is. I’ll see you then.” Fred says as goodbye, shutting your front door behind him and making his way back to the couch that had been calling his name since he left it.

The TV has moved on now; showing another rerun of an old sitcom – this one about two brothers hustling their way through life in a borough of London. Fred rather likes this show, having gotten hooked his first month in muggle life. He turns the volume up, taking a sip of his now cold tea.

Fred tries to pay attention to scene currently playing; the brother’s elderly uncle unscrewing the fastenings to a very expensive chandelier they’ve been hired to clean. Little do they know they’ve got their wires crossed and disaster is about to strike.

Fred pays little attention to this, but rather than return to the wallowing he found himself in earlier, he lets himself think of breakfast tomorrow.

His eyes begin to flutter shut; the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. He slumps down onto the couch, reaching for the blanket he keeps draped across the back of it for this very reason, and he throws it across himself. He takes one last look at the television to see that the brothers had been underneath the wrong chandelier their elderly uncle was loosening, and he falls asleep with the thought of breakfast running through his mind.

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

Fred is ready too early; he knows he is.

He also thinks he’s overdressed but he doesn’t let himself think too much into that issue.

Another nightmare had awoken him an hour after he fell back asleep in front of the TV. Fred wasn’t too resigned though; four hours sleep in one night was the most he had gotten in a while. He was going to count this as a win.

For a while, he remained on the couch, flicking through the channels hoping to find something other than telly shopping. He skipped over the news channels, not needing to hear anything about muggle society that could potentially send him further into his spiral. He ran a hand over his face as he turned off the TV; he had moved away from home to start getting better; to start the healing process yet he felt as if he was only making things worse.

Before he could let himself dwell further on that subject, he hauled himself into the shower. Taking extra time to scrub at his hair and body; making himself look presentable for breakfast with you.

Fred took extra care in picking out his clothes. Once dressed, he did feel overdressed for the occasion, but as he sits on the couch, watching the hands on his analogue clock tick by slowly, he’s more bothered by the fact that he’s ready over an hour early.

He sighs as he watches the second hand make another circuit around the clock; one less minute to go, he thinks wryly to himself.

If his mother could see him now, Molly Weasley would proceed to smack him with a tea-towel before offering her advice on the matter. Thoughts of his mother has Fred overwhelmed with a strong sense of missing her. He misses his mother more than he misses anyone; how she would always have food on the table and tea ready to drink, how she would push back his hair from his forehead so she could kiss him there. She would do that a lot when the nightmares were very bad; she would sit with him on the couch where he had exiled himself after waking George up too many times – she would run her hands through his hair in a comforting manner, kissing his forehead as his eyes would start to droop. Molly would only let herself rest once her beloved son was sleeping somewhat peacefully.

Fred thinks of this memory as he digs around his flat for some spare parchment and a self-inking quill. He had already sent his two letters for the week, but Molly would be delighted to receive a third unexpectedly.

Quill scratches on parchment for some time. Fred inquires after the wellness of his siblings – did Charlie pull his finger out and ask out Evie? How was Ron and Hermione? How was Dad? Would he like any more of the muggle sweets he’s become so fond of?

Fred asks the inane questions before asking about George. Fred knows that George loves him; they’re twins, they’re closer than any other sibling would hope to be. George knew Fred’s moods like the back of his hand and he only wants the best for his brother. Which is why Fred struggles with the guilt at leaving George to cope with the joke shop alone. George has reassured him that it’s okay, that he needs to take time and the shop will always be here when he’s ready to come back.

But it still doesn’t lessen the guilt that sits in his stomach like a lead balloon.

Black ink covers his hand by the he’s finished his letter; finishing his letter with the news of breakfast with someone he could see being a good friend. That would be enough to quash his mother’s worries that he doesn’t leave his flat enough. He seals the envelope with wax, making a mental note to go to a wizarding post office after breakfast so he can send it off in express time to his mother.

Cracking his knuckles – a nasty habit he picked up at Hogwarts – Fred checks the time to see that it’s almost half past nine. He slips on his denim jacket, tucking his letter into an inside pocket, patting it to reassure himself it’s there.

As he’s locking up the door, he sees you exiting your flat. Fred realises that when you aren’t dressed in mismatched pyjamas with a terrified look on your face, you’re rather beautiful.

You hurry over to him; your bag bouncing against your hip as you come to a stop in front of him. “Good Morning,” you greet.

“Good Morning. How did you sleep? Any more spiders?”

You direct your gaze to the floor, feeling somewhat sheepish in the light of day, “I know I said it last night, but thank you again. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if you hadn’t have got it.”

Fred smiles softly, “I didn’t mind. Besides, I get breakfast out of it.”

You perk up, “That you do! Off we go then.”

You lead him out of the building, continuing on the main road before turning left and then a right. Fred follows you all the way; making small attempts at idle conversation which you gladly take up, chatting to him about anything and everything as you lead him down a side street to where a small café sits.

The bell above the door chimes happily as you enter the building, holding the door open for Fred to duck in first.

You lead him to a table by the window that’s big enough for two. He pulls out your chair for you, letting you sit first before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the back of his chair. Fred may have been a little shit through his childhood and adolescence, but he had listened to his mother when she explained the etiquette for dining with a lady whether it be breakfast, lunch or dinner.

Menus are handed to the both of you by a waitress who looks to be wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Fred sympathises with her a little; remembering the early starts for the shop. They order their food in no time; you ordering a latte and Fred ordering a Yorkshire Tea to go with your Full English’s with extra hash browns.

You grin at him from across the table, “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

“Thanks for offering.”

“Did you get back to sleep okay after I woke you up?” You asks, face lined with worry.

Fred nods, clearing his throat, “I nodded back off, yeah.”

You sigh with relief, “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“I slept very well in my spider-free flat, yes.”

You fall silent as your drinks are placed in front of you with a promise that your food would be with you shortly. Fred smiles at the waitress in thanks as she leaves.

He turns his attention back to you, “How long have you lived in the building? I’m sure I would have seen you before.”

You wave a hand nonchalantly, “Not very long, I moved in a couple of months ago. How long have you lived there?”

Fred sips at his tea, adding a dash of sugar and milk before answering, “Around eight months now.”

You nod at his answer, taking a drink of your latte. The caffeine was needed; the adrenaline from the spider incident had taken a while to leave your body, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed and providing you more opportunity to think about the red-headed neighbour you had just met.

“I’m going to propose an idea.”

“Oh?”

“I say we play twenty-one questions and get to know each other.”

“Get to know each other?”

You blink at him, “Yes. We’re neighbours and we’re having breakfast. What else should we talk about? The weather?”

Fred glances out the window at your words, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Well the weather is particularly lovely for London.”

You hush him, “That’s not very neighbourly of you.”

“Perhaps I’m not very neighbourly,” Fred taunts.

You gasp dramatically, “I refuse to believe that. If you weren’t neighbourly, you would have shut the door in my face last night.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “Would you have started to knock again if I did?”

You purse your lips, repressing a smile, “Maybe.”

“Then I simply helped to lessen the noise.”

You scoff, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You don’t have to.”

You glare at him, “Fred, stop being an arsehole and let me get to know you.”

Fred barks out a laugh, covering his mouth at the volume of the noise, “Well, when you put it like that. What do you want to know?”

You beam at him, and Fred can’t help but smile back. “How old are you?” you ask.

“I’m 22.”

“Are you at university?”

Fred shakes his head, “I thought I was supposed to ask the next question.”

You level him with a look, “Answer this one and then you can ask the next one.”

“Alright, but you can’t go jumping in with another question before I’ve asked mine. No, I’m not at university,” You open your mouth to interrupt but close it when you remember Fred’s words. He smiles at you, “How old are you?”

“You can’t repeat questions!”

“Why not?” Fred asks, affronted, “It’s only fair I know your age too!”

“Fine,” you mutter, “I’m 22 as well. 23 in a month.”

Fred nods, waiting patiently for your next question. You open your mouth, the words ready on the tip of your tongue but the waitress returns with your breakfast. The very smell of it has Fred’s stomach rumbling; he hadn’t a cooked breakfast like this since he left the Burrow. He digs in with renewed vigour; repressing a moan at the taste of the fried bread.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

Fred nods, unable to reply due to the mouthful of food he’s chewing.

You nod in understanding, swallowing your mouthful before saying, “I found this place in my final year of university; I needed somewhere that reminded me of my mum’s breakfasts. Her breakfasts will always be number one, but this comes pretty close.”

Fred pauses with a forkful of scrambled egg halfway to his mouth, “That’s what I miss most about home – my mum and her cooking.”

“Are you not from London originally?” You asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Fred shakes his head, “Devon originally. A tiny village in the county; it’s more of a hamlet really.”

Your eyes widen; eyebrows flying into your hairline, “Devon? That’s a while away. How often do you get to see your family?”

“Not as often as I’d like.” Fred says, drinking his tea.

For a moment, it’s silent between the two of you. The scraping of cutlery on plates being the only sound. Fred thinks of his family as he eats his breakfast; wondering what their plans are for the day – whether they’d be gnome hunting or playing quidditch or simply helping Molly with her vegetable garden. His heart hurts as he thinks of them; overcome with the absence of them from his life. It makes him shiver as he reaches for another drink of tea.

Fred breaks the comfortable silence, “What about you? Where are you from originally?”

“Lancashire originally but I moved to the south when I was young – it’s why my accent is so odd.”

Fred frown; he hadn’t noticed anything odd about your accent, thinking the way that you pronounced your vowels was similar to the way young Neville Longbottom does his, but yours are cut shorter.

“Tell me,” He starts, “Do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

“You’re going to repeat my every question, aren’t you?”

Fred grins, “Maybe… Maybe not. You’ll have to stick around to find out. Now, do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

You shake your head, “Not really. My parents like to travel a lot; a cruise here, a two week holiday there, a road trip across America through the summer. I don’t blame them though; they worked hard for the time they have now. I just wish they’d drop in more.”

“Are you rich?” Fred asks before he can stop himself. He cringes as the words leave his mouth.

You chuckle at the awkward expression on his face, “I’m not. My parents are. I’m a humble student working towards their master’s degree. My father created his company in printing greeting cards; he sold it off a few years back for a lot of money and they’ve been enjoying themselves since.”

“You’re a master’s student?” Fred asks; his knowledge on muggle degrees somewhat limited to what Hermione had told him.

You nod, scraping up the last forkful of food on your plate. “Yeah, I’m getting my master’s in Library Science.”

“What do you hope to do after that?”

“Work in a library or well, continue to work in a library, I already work at my university one. I’d love to work in an archives one day though, cataloguing pieces of history.”

Fred nods, enraptured by your words. He didn’t realise how much choice there was for muggles and their education. The wizarding world was somewhat limited to how witches and wizards could harness their talents; Fred and George were practically pariahs for choosing to dedicate their lives to pranks and happiness. He had always assumed the muggle world worked in the same way, but here you were, proving him wrong.

Knives and forks are crossed on plates when you ask, “You aren’t a university student, so you must have a job. What do you do for a living, Fred?”

Fred decides a kernel of truth wouldn’t do too much harm, “I own a joke shop with my twin brother.”

You laugh, clapping your hands together, “That’s incredible! Is the shop here in London?”

Fred nods, “It is. My twin brother is running it for the time being.”

“Can we go see it?”

Fred freezes; he hadn’t anticipated this. He glances down at the watch wrapped around his wrist then back up at you, not missing the glint of mischief in your eyes. “Perhaps another time?” he suggest, “I have some errands I need to run today that I can’t avoid.”

You lean back in your chair, feeling somewhat sad but you shake it off. “Of course, but I’ll hold you to that Fred. I won’t rest until I see your shop.”

Fred grins, “I have a feeling you’ll stick to your word.”

You move to reply but are interrupted by the waitress coming by to collect your plates and ask if you want anything else. She leaves the bill behind when her question is declined. Fred reaches for his wallet, but you stop him by snatching the bill.

“I made you a promise last night. Breakfast for your excellent services.”

Fred rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “I feel bad letting you pay.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” You tease, “No, I said I would buy you breakfast so I’m buying you breakfast. You can buy it next time.”

“So there’s going to be a next time?”

You shrug, biting your lip. “Sure – you might need my services for something. A blocked pipe or a blow fuse.”

Fred stands, pulling on his denim jacket, patting his inside pocket to find that his letter is still there.

You walk back to the main road together; waving goodbye to him as you head towards your university and he to a side street where he can apparate to the nearest wizarding post office. Fred hands his letter over to the clerk, paying a few extra knuts for express delivery.

Fred takes his time walking back to his flat; enjoying the spring day that was blooming around him. He felt lighter as he walked; as if he didn’t need to put as much effort into putting one foot in front of the other. He put it down to you and your presence; there was something about you that evoked all sorts of emotions from him. There was something about you that made him want to see you again.

However, he knew by tonight, the familiar fog will have settled over him – dulling the light of everything around him. He knew that he would still struggle to sleep; being lucky enough to get even an hour in before being pulled to consciousness kicking and screaming his way out of the same nightmare.

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

His time over the next month is split three ways. He spends a third of it on his couch; watching old reruns of sitcoms – his new favourite being set in second muggle war and follows the Home Guard; Fred finds himself whistling the theme song more often than he’d like to admit. He uses his time on the couch to write his letters to Molly who was thrilled at the aspect of Fred making a friend; she wrote question after question about wanting to know their star sign to their hair colour. Fred smiles fondly; a smile reserved only for his mother – one that got even bigger when a second owl arrived with a small note with another question. Through all of her excited questioning, Molly forgot one crucial detail – what was their name?

He spends the second third of his time running. Fred had always been sporty; had always had an athletic build that helped him gain his spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Beater with George on the team too. However, there are few places in muggle London where he can play the sport freely, so he gets it into his head to pretend to train for a match. Fred begins to run; every morning and every evening. Two runs a day, seven days a week. The runs on an evening tire out his body so he has more of a chance of falling into bed with the hopeless prayer of a dreamless sleep uttered from his lips. However, the runs on a morning are more frantic as he runs off the excess adrenaline and panic running through his system as a result of the night terror his mind unleashed upon him, dragging him from sleep less than two hours after his eyes closed.

Then Fred spends the final third of his time with you. In your flat or walking around Hyde Park or visiting your university.

Fred finds himself spending more and more time with you; he starts to crave your company. And he feels ridiculous for feeling that way because he’s only known you for over a month and he should be using this time to start the healing process.

But he’s already told his mother about you; and who isn’t to say that he can’t work on healing from the trauma of the war with you by his side being a warm, comforting presence?

Fred sits on his couch at nearing two in the morning; questioning his entire existence and reasoning for moving to muggle society when he realises that whilst it’s only been just over a month, if he wants to start healing with you by his side, he needs to be entirely honest with you.

He needs to confess.

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

Fred inhales a deep breath before knocking on your door. He shuffles from side to side, nerves rioting in his stomach. In less than a minute, you’ve wrenched open your door, smiling widely as you take in Fred standing before you.

“Freddie! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He holds his hands behind his back as he rocks back onto his heels, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

Your eyes run over his face; taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes. He had told you about his insomnia soon after the friendship began; it worried you, but Fred had reassured you that he had it controlled. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Fred nods, “That, and I really need to talk to you.”

“No problem. Let me just get my shoes on.”

Fred smiles as he watches you toe on the slip on trainers he had come to know as Vans. You told him just last week about your obsession with them; unable to resist buying a new pair each time you passed the shop.

You grab your jacket from the hook, pulling it on as you lock the door behind you, bumping into Fred as you step out into the hallway.

Fred leads you out of the building, turning the usual left that heads in the direction of the park. You struggle to keep up with his long strides; calling out for him to slow down a little so you can at least walk side by side. He smiles at you as you catch up to him; apologising for his speed, he is just anxious.

The walk to the park is walked in silence. Fred’s mind occupied with how he’s going to tell you the most important thing about himself and how you’re going to react when you find out that a lot of your friendship was built on a lie.

The park settles on the horizon too soon and his heart is in his mouth. Fred used to be a confident guy; happily getting involved in scheme after scheme that would bring chaos and laughter to the corridors of Hogwarts, but he had lost that part of him in the battle. He wondered if he would ever be that guy again.

You bump his shoulder, “We’re at the park, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred settles on a nearby bench; fiddling with his fingers, “I need to tell you something but I’m not sure how to say it.”

“That’s fine. Why don’t you tell me why we’re in the park?”

Fred sighs, “It’s so you have the freedom and the choice to leave after I tell you what I’ve been keeping from you.”

Your heart starts to pound in your chest; panic rising slowly in your gut. “What have you been keeping from me that’s so bad that I would need to walk away from you?”

Fred turns in his spot, staring into your eyes, “Do you promise to hear me out and not interrupt?”

“Fred, you’re worrying me. What’s the matter?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise! Now what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been lying to you… about so much.”

The air is knocked out of you, “I’m going to need more than that, Fred,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Do you remember when we first had breakfast? And I told you about the joke shop I own with my twin?”

“Yes… so what did you lie about? The joke shop or the twin?”

“Neither. I just lied about why you couldn’t see it.”

“Why?” You ask; your tone incredulous.

“Because I’m a wizard, and the joke shop I own with my twin – who is also a wizard – is a magical joke shops selling pranks and potions to witches and wizards attending Hogwarts.”

You stand from the bench, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, wondering when the TV cameras are going to show up, “That isn’t funny, Fred.”

“I’m not joking, (Y/N). I’m not lying to you now.”

“How do I know? What’s Hogwarts? Who is your twin? What’s the name of your shop? Why aren’t you there?”

Fred had prepared himself for the barrage of questions he knew would inevitably fall from your mouth; curiosity being your besetting sin. He hadn’t prepared himself for the look of betrayal and hurt that crosses over face as you continue to stare at him. Fred feels his already broken heart break some more at the sight of it.

He runs a hand over his face, “(Y/N), love, please sit down. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” You question, “I want to know it all.”

Fred crosses over his heart, “I promise. Now please sit down.”

You sit next to him; a few inches away as if the small distance will help to protect the heart that you had already started to give to the broken red-headed man.

You remain silent as Fred sorts out his words; you can see the cogs in his mind working as he figures out how to explain an entire society that you hadn’t known existed until less than a minute ago.

Finally he releases a breath and begins.

“Witches and wizards have always been around, but after famous witch hunts such as Salem, Pendle, and Samlesbury, we had to go into hiding to protect our numbers. From the age of eleven, we go to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a school in the highlands of Scotland dedicated to teaching young witches and wizards the art of magic as well as how to control it. My twin is called George; we’re identical and sometimes, our own mother struggles to tell us apart,” Fred breaks off with a short laugh, thinking of Molly with fondness.

“He’s my rock, he’s my best friend. We bought the joke shop when we were eighteen – it’s called Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and it’s found in Diagon Alley. For your sake, it’s found near Charing Cross Road.”

Fred pauses once again, readying himself to explain his absence from the shop and his presence in your life. “I’m not there because I moved away. In our society, there was a dark wizard who started a war for purposes beyond me. I just know that when I was 21 I was running through the corridors of the school I used to attend fighting for my life and watching people I knew die. I almost died myself when a wall was blown apart; luckily, someone spelled me out of the way. I’ll be forever grateful to them for that.

“After the war, I couldn’t cope. I was doing more harm than good by being with my family – my insomnia stems from nightmares of the war so I left. I left them and moved here where I’ve started to heal from my experiences and where I met you after you started to bang on my door. I wanted to tell you sooner; my mother told me to in her letters, but I was enjoying my time with you, and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. It means a lot to me.”

Fred falls silent with a smile aimed at you. Your mouth hangs open from his words; unsure on whether to take them for the truth they sounded like or to question him to find the holes in his story.

But he looks so vulnerable; the smile is watery, and his eyes are lined with tears. You realise that it’s taken a lot for him to confess this to you, but that it had been weighing on his mind for some time.

You don’t say anything immediately. Instead, you draw his head to your shoulder, and he lets out the sob he’s been holding in since he started to talk about his past. You wrap your arms around him tightly; holding him together as he lets himself fall to pieces in your arms. You’re in public, and this is a scene but the both of you don’t care. You hold him to you until his sobs begin to quieten into sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Fred murmurs, pulling away from you as he wipes his eyes.

“Never apologise for crying.”

He sniffles, “Do you believe me?”

You nod, “I do. I don’t think anyone could have made up what you just said. I don’t think there’s enough imagination in the world for it. But there’s one thing I want to know.”

Fred watches you warily, “What is it?”

You grip his hand tightly, “Are you healing, Fred? Are you coping?”

Fred’s shoulders slump as the tension leaves his body; he had tensed at your words, worried at what you might say. He stares into your eyes as he answers, “I am. I was struggling at first, but I think I’m starting to heal.”

“Can I help? How can I help?”

Fred pats your hand, “Continue doing what you’re doing, it’s enough.”

And it is. Fred finds it easier to breathe in your presence as if the weight of the world is no longer on his shoulders like he were Atlas. Instead, he finds it easier to focus on other things such as plans for the day or listening to you talk about your latest assignment. He doesn’t feel his mind drift off as much when he’s around you; which is a good thing, he thinks.

You smile at him, still holding onto his hand, “I can do that.”

You both fall into quiet; eyes now focused on the expanse of the park. Fred watches a young mother push her young son the swings, hearing his delighted laughter, whilst your eyes land on the teenage couple making out underneath a tree; you move your eyes away quickly, focusing instead, on the ducks swimming in the pond.

You break the silence, “Fred?”

He hums in answer.

“Would you cast a spell for me?” You ask tentatively, “If that’s okay!”

Fred smiles softly; letting go of your hand to reach for the dogwood wand he keeps hidden up his sleeve. With flare he hasn’t shown since opening the store, he pulls the wand out. He rolls the wand over his fingers, “Wizards can practice magic outside of school from the age of seventeen; I can show you a spell.”

“Really?” You ask, bouncing in your place.

“Are you ready?”

“Hold on, let me think for a minute… YES.” You shout, stamping your feet in the grass.

Fred grins; his eyes crinkling in the corners from the size of his smile. He checks for witnesses before holding his wand up whispering the incantation ‘Lumos’. The tip of his wand begins to glow with a pale light which in the falling darkness of the day only helps him see the beauty in your features.

You gasp at the sight of the light emanating from Fred’s wand, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. “I can’t believe it,” you sigh, “All this time I asked you to change lightbulbs and you could create light with a single word.”

“You’re not scared or freaked out?” He asks, unable to stop himself. The small voice in the back of his head needed to know whether you were going to leave him.

You shake your head, still watching the pale white light. With a single whisper of ‘Nox’, Fred turns out the light and slides his wand back into his sleeve. You turn your attention back to Fred, “I’m not scared or freaked out. I’m just in awe of you and this entire society that’s survived in secret. I feel like I’m privy to a secret organisation.”

“You’re in awe of me?” Fred asks; those being the only words he focused on in your entire sentence after confirming you weren’t scared of him.

“Absolutely. You can conjure magic, Fred! Actual magic! It’s incredible,” Your hands frame his face, keeping his eyes on you as you lean close and whisper, “You are incredible.”

He covers your hands with his; wondering when he’d become so soft. “Thank you,” he replies.

You pull away too soon; Fred’s hands dropping to his side, feeling suddenly cold at the loss of contact.

Standing from the bench, you hold your hand out for Fred to take. “Come on, magic man. It’s time we went home.”

“Magic man?” He asks, amused. He takes your offered hand, pulling himself up from the park bench.

“It’s my new nickname for you, do you like?”

“Magic man… magic man,” Fred repeats, testing the name out on his tongue, “I suppose I do.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’ll call you anything else.”

The walk back to the flat is quicker than the walk to the park. Fred’s steps lighter now than they were earlier. Chased by the turning on of street lights, you reach your building and lead him into your flat, offering him a warm drink as he takes a seat on your cream coloured couch.

Fred takes the hot mug of tea from you as you sit down next to him. He takes a shy sip, careful not to burn his tongue. It’s perfect, as it always is. You always know the right amount of sugar and milk to add.

“Thank you for telling me that today, I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“It wasn’t, but it got easier when you didn’t walk away. I was so worried that you were going to.”

“I don’t think I’d have forgiven myself if I had.”

Teas are drank after that, and Fred whispers goodnight to you before kissing your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. He lets himself out of your flat, making the short walk back to his where he throws himself on the couch and lets himself wonder when exactly he had started to fall in love with you.

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

Two more months follow, and Fred knows that he’s now arse over tea kettle in love you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, that you like to shove under legs when laid on the couch together, so he yelps at their temperature.

Two more months follow, and Fred feels like he’s maybe able to start living his life again, but in small doses. He writes to his mother more who’s delighted by the tales he tells of you and your growing relationship; he could never keep anything from Molly – her face too trusting and her manner too warm. All Molly is concerned about in her letters is whether Fred is happy, and for the first time in over a year, Fred can reply saying he thinks he could be.

Molly won’t ever tell Fred this, but she cried at that letter, feeling her heart burst with happiness for the son she had always worried about.

Time passes, and Fred spends more and more time with you. Breakfast dates, lunch dates, movie marathons on the couch – he does it all with you. You even go so far as to make him decorate his flat more; pictures of his family now line the walls as well as the picture of him and George on the opening day of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

That’s when he knows he needs to go back to Diagon Alley, and he’s taking you with him.

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

At nine am on the dot, Fred knocks on your door until you open it. You glare at the red-headed man, demanding to know his presence at your door when he only left at four am after binging the entire Godfather trilogy without realising how long the films are.

Fred beams at your state, “Go get dressed, I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Why?” You ask, puzzled.

“I’m taking you to Diagon Alley and my joke shop.”

You stagger back a couple of steps, “Really? Are you sure? Are you ready?”

Fred’s grin moulds into something softer at your concern. “I am, and I want you to come with me.”

A slow smile breaks across your face, “Give me ten minutes and we can go!”

You rush into your room; pulling open the doors to your wardrobe and raking through to find any sort of clothes you’d wear to visit a magical shop, and possibly meet the twin brother of the man you’d fallen in love with.

Minutes later, you exit your room, pulling a brush through your hair to make yourself look more presentable. Gratefully, you take the cup of coffee from Fred’s hand before rushing into your bathroom to brush your teeth and spritz yourself in your favourite perfume – jasmine, lavender and citrus.

You drain the dregs of your coffee as you leave the bathroom. Dropping the pale pink mug in the sink, you turn to find Fred leaning against your kitchen counter with an amused and entertained look on his face.

“Someone’s excited, I see.” He teases.

You pout, “It’s not every day I get to go see magical London, magic man.”

Fred claps his hands, laughing quietly. “Come on then, let’s get you to Diagon Alley.”

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

Diagon Alley is nestled behind Charing Cross Road; it’s the largest area of wizarding London and is completely hidden from the muggle world.

Fred has been visiting Diagon Alley for as long as he can remember; flooing there with his mother and Bill, Charlie and Percy to collect their things for the latest school year. As a child, he loved visiting Florean Fortescue’s when the budget permitted it; getting a single scoop cone with rainbow sprinkles.

As he enters the Leaky Cauldron, leading you in by the hand, Fred is a mix of fear and excitement making him act jittery as he approaches the familiar face of Tom, the barman.

“Fred Weasley? Is that you?” Tom asks, a large smile on his face, “I haven’t seen you in over a year! How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, Tom. How have you been?”

“Never better – you know me.”

Fred smiles, nodding. “I’m heading out back, is that okay?”

“Anything for a Weasley. Does this have something to do with the muggle hiding behind your back?”

You reveal yourself from where you’ve hidden yourself behind Fred. Keeping a tight hold on his hand, you smile shyly at the barman, “I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tom smiles politely, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Tom turns his attention back to Fred, “You know what to do.”

Fred parts ways with barman he had grown up knowing, pulling you to the back door which opens into a small courtyard.

“Fred, love, it’s a dead end.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asks with a smirk, reaching for his wand. “Want to see some proper magic?”

“Always, magic man.”

He grins at the use of your nickname for him before tapping his wand on the bricks blocking your way. You cry out as the bricks begin to move; shifting to the side to reveal an entryway to a cobbled street lined with shop after shop all varying in colours.

Letting go of Fred’s hand, you take your first step into the wizarding world; already in love with every aspect of it, just as you’re in love with every aspect of the man making his way to your side.

“What do you think?” He asks, breathless at the sight of the place he hasn’t seen in a year.

“This is unlike any other place I’ve seen.” You hold your hand out for Fred to grab, “Show me around?”

“With pleasure,” Fred replies, wrapping your hand in his, tangling your fingers.

Fred takes you on a tour of the Alley; stopping outside Ollivander’s and getting out his wand to explain the importance of the place, turning his wand around to show you what he means. He tells you the story of Harry Potter; of what his wand meant, being the twin of the wand that had killed his parents. Your heart breaks for the boy you had never met; had never even heard of until today – you ask after him, how is he now? Fred reassures you; after all, he’s fine, Harry’s dating his younger sister much to Fred’s chagrin.

He takes you into Florean Fortescue’s, buying you ice cream for breakfast as any adult should have. Your eyes widen at the taste of the Butterbeer ice cream; butterscotch and buttercream icing bursting on your tongue. Fred smiles at your expression, licking his way through his own ice cream – strawberries and cream for nostalgia’s sake.

Sitting down at a small table, you tap your ice creams to each other in a toast. “Where are we going next?” You ask, catching a drip of the melting ice cream with your tongue – not missing the way Fred’s eyes track the movement.

“I thought we could visit my shop.”

“Your shop?” You ask in disbelief, “Are you sure?”

Fred nods, catching a drip on his own ice cream. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes also track the movement of his mouth. “Yes, I’m sure.” He looks away, ashamed, “I’ve left George alone too long.”

You reach for his hand across the table, “I’m sure he understands, Fred.”

“I know he does, but it doesn’t stop the guilt.”

You rub your thumb across the back of his hand in a comforting motion, “Are you sure you’re okay to go? We can always come back another day.”

“You’d come back with me?”

You grin, “Of course, this is the best ice cream I’ve ever had. I’m here for you, magic man – who else is going to kill the spiders in my bathroom?”

Fred relaxes, “You’re the best, you know that right?”

You take another lick of your ice cream, “I do know that. Do you want to stay and see your brother, or do you want to go? I’m happy with either, but you’re going to have to give me time to get more ice cream.”

Fred laughs at your words, “It is good ice cream,” he takes a lick of his, “No, let’s go. I need to see him; I need to apologise.”

“Alright then. We’ll finish here and then we’ll go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes… at last.”

He nods, remaining silent. The ice creams are finished in silence; questioning looks sent to each other across the table. Your feelings for Fred often overwhelmed you with their strength; never imagining that knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning could ever lead to something like this. In the short time you had known the man, you had fallen head over heels for him and also had your entire worldview altered by finding out about the existence of magic.

He’d quite literally turned your world upside down, and the only thing that ran through your mind through it all was: I hope he feels the same.

Soon though, faces are wiped on napkins and hands are back to hold each other’s as Fred leads you from the ice cream parlour to where the orange top hat stands out against the darkly coloured shops.

In a last minute attempt to delay the inevitable, Fred pulls you over to the pet shop. You coo over the animals; pointing to the Puffskein with questions burning on your tongue. Fred answers them all happily, delighted to delay walking into the shop and brother he’s neglected for so long.

After a few more minutes, you step away from the shop window citing the temptation being too great and you may end up smuggling the Puffskeins to the muggle world.

“That was a fantastic distraction, magic man.”

“Wasn’t it?” He admits, blushing at having been caught out but not wanting to lie to you, “It worked like a treat.”

You chuckle, “It really did. They remind me of clouds do the Puffskeins; neon, furry clouds.”

Fred snorts, “An excellent description.”

The joke shop now looms in front of the two of you; the bright orange and purple of the paintwork almost luminous in the morning light. Fred stops in the middle of the pavement; feet stuck to the floor, unable to carry him forward. He’s avoided this for so long, but he finally feels ready to insert himself back into the life of pranks, jokes, and happiness.

Your grip on his hand tightens, “I’m here, magic man. I’m not going anywhere.”

His nod is the only sign you get to know that he’s heard your words.

Taking a deep breath, Fred begins to put one foot in front of the other; a hand outstretched for the door handle to the shop, giving it a light push. The bell above the door rings, signalling his entrance into the shop but also his entrance into his old life.

The shop is quiet; it being still too early in the day to get masses and masses of shoppers. Their busy season is the three weeks in August before terms starts where students come to buy their school books but to also stock up on items of mischief.

A near identical man to Fred stands up straighter from his position behind the counter. He starts to open his mouth, to welcome the new customers to the shop but when he looks up, the words never leave his mouth.

He simply freezes in place.

His eyes flicker between the two of you quickly, before running over the man stood next to you. Looking for what, you don’t know.

In between one blink of an eye and the next, he’s thrown himself across the counter, sprinting to where Fred stands in the entryway.

No words are spoken; he just holds Fred’s face in his hands before pulling him in for a hug that’s been long overdue.

You step away from their reunion, letting your eyes roam over the shop. They need this moment alone; you don’t need to invade by watching them. You wander a little; fingers running over displays. You frown when you see you an area lit up in pink titled ‘Love Potion’.

You pick up one of the little bottles shaped like a heart; the bright pink liquid inside jostling as you examine it.

“Careful,” A voice sounds behind you, “It’s a powerful potion.”

Turning you find Fred’s twin, George watching you with inquisitive eyes. “What does it do?” You ask, fiddling with the stopper.

“It mimics the effects of love and obsession. If you smell it, you smell the person you love.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Truly?”

George nods, “Truly. We sell crates full of the stuff nearing Valentine’s Day.”

Releasing the stopper from the neck of the bottle, you take a delicate sniff. Peonies, rain, and Yorkshire tea come filtering through. The very smells you’ve become to associate with the man who had never really been your neighbour but has always been something more.

Replacing the stopper, you drop the potion into George’s waiting hand. He pockets it before turning back to face his twin.

“What did you smell?” Fred asks as you settle back next to him.

You shrug, “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

George grins at the two of you, “Is this the famous (Y/N) from your letters to mum?”

You nudge Fred with your elbow, beaming, “You write to your mum about me, magic man?”

“Hold on – magic man?” George asks, eyes glancing at both Fred and you.

You nod, “It’s my nickname for him.”

George chuckles, “It’s brilliant. I may have to use it myself.”

Fred blushes at his brother’s use of your nickname for him. He doesn’t say it, but it doesn’t sound right coming from anyone else’s mouth but yours.

“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). Mum already loves you. I’m George.” George introduces, holding a hand out to you.

You shake his hand twice before dropping it, “It’s very nice to meet you too, George. Fred has told me so much.”

“He has?”

You nod, “He’s told me all about the pranks you played at Hogwarts and why you set up this shop – which I think is wonderful by the way – I feel like I already know you.”

George shifts his gaze to his twin, “I don’t know why but I didn’t think you’d talk about me.”

Fred gapes, “Of course I talk about you. You’re my twin brother, you’re practically half of me.”

George shrugs, “You only send letters to mum… I just assumed.”

Fred steps forward, placing his hands on George’s shoulders, “Mum made me promise to write, I couldn’t break that. I wanted to write to you so much, George, but the guilt I felt as just leaving you and the shop was too much and then more time passed. I’ve been an awful brother; can you forgive me?”

George laughs, tears falling freely down his face. “There’s nothing to forgive now that I know why.”

Fred hauls George into a hug; neither afraid to show their emotions through this reunion. Fred had been so worried before this; thinking his brother might turn him away at the door, but now holding him in his arms, he’s just happy to have his twin by his side once more.

They pull away with a sob; George clapping Fred on the back. “Will you be returning to work, Freddie?”

Fred’s eyes land on you; where you’ve stood silently through the whole exchange, just happy to see the two brothers reunite. His eyes search your face for something, and he finds it in your smile. “Yeah, George. I think I might do.”

George glances between you and Fred as if seeing the connection there. He keeps his mouth shut but smiles at the fact that his twin has found someone to share his life with.

You spend a couple more hours in the shop; pottering freely as Fred and George discuss the state of the business and when Fred would like to start work again. Pride runs through your veins as you listen to them from the upper floor; Fred has achieved so much in such a short space of time and you couldn’t be more prouder of him.

You also couldn’t be more in love with him. He handles himself with such grace; standing taller, smiling more. The more time you spent with him, the more you could feel yourself falling for him. Nights alone in your flat had you thinking of what it would be like to be laid in bed next to him – would he cuddle? Would he let you lay your head on his chest? Or would he prefer to spoon? You had spent so many nights thinking of these questions, trying to think of answers.

“(Y/N)?” Fred calls from the lower floor, “Are you ready to go?”

“Already?” You ask, descending the staircase.

Fred nods, “I’ll come back tomorrow and talk more to George about what I need to do. It’s time we got some lunch, however.”

Your stomach grumbles at his words, “You’ve got great timing it seems, magic man.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly, “No. I just know you too well.”

You smile at him before turning to George to say goodbye. George smiles at you, saying, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon,” with a wink at Fred.

The tips of Fred’s ears burn red as he claps his twin on the shoulder, promising he’ll call in tomorrow. “Tell mum you’ve seen me, will you? I know she worries,” Fred calls on his way out.

“Already on it!” are George’s final words before the door closes.

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

Sitting at a corner table in The Leaky Cauldron, Fred continues to ride on the high from seeing his twin brother after a year apart. He’s positively ravenous; the nerves before having dampened his appetite. He takes it upon himself to order for the both you; checking that you don’t mind. You wave him away, stating that you wouldn’t even know where to begin with ordering.

Tom hands Fred your drinks after ordering, letting him know it’d be around ten minutes before food was with you. Fred thanks the barman, picking up the drinks to return you.

“I’m really proud of you, Fred.” You state, taking a sip of the sweet Butterbeer.

“You are?” He asks bashfully.

“I am. It took a lot of bravery to do what you did today.”

Fred blushes, but doesn’t drop his eyes from yours. “I think I’m going to be brave one last time.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” He states, reaching for your hand, “I’ve only known you for less than six months but in that time you’ve helped me find who I was before the war. You’ve helped me find the laughter that was missing. What I’m trying to say is, is that I’ve fallen in love with you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Fred,” You sniffle, “I love you too.”

“You do?”

You nod, “I really do. I love every last bit of you.

Fred sags in his chair; holding onto your hand tighter, “I was so worried you wouldn’t love me back.”

“No chance of that, magic man.”

The smile that breaks across his face is simply breathtaking, and you thank your lucky stars that the man you’ve fallen in love with, loves you back, just as much.

Tom fetches your food over then, settling two plates onto table. It smells divine and without letting go of Fred’s hand, you pick up your fork and dig in.

The meal is eaten in silence; happy looks and secret smiles exchanged over the steaming plates of food. Fred’s thumb rubs over the back of your hand; the motion now having another meaning alongside ‘I’m here’. Elation bubbles within you, flooding your veins. The love you feel for this man is entirely encompassing, filling your very pores, combining with your genetic makeup.

For as delicious as the meal is, the both of you barely taste it. Plates are empty in no time, and Fred leaves Tom a tip on the table. He pulls you up with him, dragging you to the door and back to muggle London.

It feels like a fever dream; stepping back into the reality you’ve known all your life until you met the red-headed man stood next to you.

Fred tugs you into him; his arm wrapping around your waist. He drops your hand in favour of caressing your cheek. His brown eyes sparkle with love and joy as he dips his head, pausing just before he touches his lips to yours, waiting for permission. You grant him in the form of pushing your mouth to his.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close, feeling all of him pressed against all you. He tastes of the butterscotch from the dregs of his Butterbeer and you hum against his mouth – it’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating; you could lose yourself entirely in him and you wouldn’t mind a bit. Your hand runs through his hair, tugging lightly. Your toes curl at the sound of the low moan from the back of his throat.

From the outside, this looks like a simple passionate embrace between a young couple. They don’t know how long this kiss has been in the making; how many time you’ve wondered exactly what Fred would taste like, and now you have that knowledge, it’s not something you’ll be parting with soon.

Eventually, you pull away from him, coming back to the surface for breath but Fred doesn’t let you go. He holds onto you tightly, pressing kiss after kiss to your face making you giggle at his affectionate side.

He lets you go for a single instant to pull you into the side street beside The Leaky Cauldron. He wraps you tightly into his side, savouring the feel of you lined next to him.

“This is going to make you dizzy,” is his only warning before he apparates back to your flat.

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

Though confessions have been uttered, Fred takes his time to learn your body.

Kissing you slowly; peeling your clothes off your body with the air of someone who has all the time in the world – and he does. He takes his time to memorise every inch of your body; every dip, every curve, every freckle. He commits it all to memory though the both of you know that you’ll be doing this for a very long time. He whispers words of worship into your skin; your body was a cathedral and he was going to worship at your feet.

You take your time with him; running your hand through the hair on his chest before trailing it lower, watching how the muscles in his toned stomach jump at your touch. A simple touch, and it drives him wild.

He draws you in for a kiss; flipping the both of you so you’re underneath him. He braces himself above and you spend the rest of the night, and most of the morning, learning the noises that can be evoked from a kiss in the right place.

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

It surprised Fred that it takes his mother almost a month to send him a letter demanding that she finally get to meet the person who had stolen her son’s heart.

Fred reads the letter beside you at the breakfast table; chuckling at his mother’s words over his morning cup of tea. He hands you the letter once he’s finished reading, watching your face for every emotion as well as letting his gaze drop to the small purple bruises at the base of your neck, laid there by his mouth.

You hold a hand up to your mouth, repressing the smile. “Your mother wants to meet me?”

Fred nods, “She has for a while, but I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“There’s no chance of that now, magic man, especially after last night.”

Fred blushes but beams, satisfied. “Would you like to meet them?”

You pause, tilting your head to one side as you think of how to phrase your next few sentences, “I don’t want to presume anything, but I’d like to think I’m going to be in your life for a long while. I think the earlier I meet your family, the better.”

Fred takes your hand in his, dropping a kiss to the top of it. “You aren’t presuming anything; I want you in my life for an eternity and more. But are you sure you want to meet them? I’m from a very large family, and if I know them, it’ll be partners as well.”

You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek then to peck his lips quickly, “I love the worry, but it’s okay. I want to meet them, and I want to see pictures of my magic man as a baby.”

Fred groans; he’s forgotten about the baby pictures but from the look on your face, he know he’s fighting a losing battle. He kisses you quick, “I’ll send an owl to my mum now, letting her know we’ll come tomorrow, how does that sound?”

You hum happily, “That sounds like just enough time for me to find an outfit good enough.”

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

Molly Weasley opened Fred’s letter with a shriek; rushing to reply before getting started on calling the family together. She sends her Patronus to Charlie in Romania; threatening death should he not return home for this occasion. Charlie replies within two hours by showing up on the doorstep with his girlfriend, Evie in tow.

The whole family under one roof again would be something of an event; and one Molly would not waste by having petty squabbles and nasty reminders. She lines her family up in the living room; boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives and proceeds to lecture about what this means. She’s grateful it being a Friday evening so she can lecture the whole family without absentees claiming work as the excuse.

Halfway through her lecture to her family, Arthur places a soft hand on her shoulder, “Molly, dear, we’re going to be on our best behaviour.”

She whimpers, “I haven’t seen my son is so long, Arthur.”

He wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulder, knowing the toll Fred’s absence took on her. He had been the unexpected twin; but they didn’t love him any less for it. On the contrary, Molly loved him more for the fear of his siblings making him feel unwanted.

“I know, dear. But we all promise to be on our bestest behaviour, don’t we gang?”

Confirmation rings out across all six of their children and their partners. Molly levels them all with a look, “Fred is bringing his muggle girlfriend with him, and George has told me it’s serious. We aren’t going to have a problem with that are we?”

“Definitely not,” George calls out to the agreement of his siblings and siblings-in-law, “(Y/N) is a sweetheart; you’ll see the moment they both arrive.”

Molly dismisses her family; dispersing them to different rooms with different jobs to make the house presentable for Fred and (Y/N)’s visit tomorrow.

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

Tomorrow arrives quickly, and before you know it, the sun is shining through your window and the birds have begun their morning song. Fred’s arm hangs over your waist in a dead weight; you shift him gently as you make your way out of your bed and into the bathroom to begin your day.

By the time Fred wakes, you’re dressed and are brushing through your hair. With a lazy grin, he watches you get ready for the day. He’s in utter awe of how he met someone like you, but then you meet his eyes in the mirror and that awe transforms into something warmer.

He drags himself out of the warm bed desperate to feel you under his hands. He places his hands on your shoulder, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Good Morning,” He whispers, his voice still raspy with sleep, “You look beautiful.”

You hum, “Good Morning sleepy head. The kettle boiled a few minutes ago and there’s a teabag waiting in your favourite pot.”

“You’re a dream,” Fred calls out, pottering into the kitchen.

“And you’re a flatterer, magic man,” You call back; grinning when you hear his laughter.

Time flies by in a rush of breakfast, clothes, and kisses and before you know it, it’s time to apparate all the way to Devon.

“Are you ready?” Fred asks; your hand tight in his. You don’t miss the double meaning to his words.

“Take me to Devon, magic man,” is all you reply before your flat turns into a whirlpool of blended colours and you’re spat back out on the outskirts of green, green farmland.

Not letting go of your hand, Fred leads you in the direction of his childhood home. Air he hasn’t smelt in over a year wash over him, bringing with it a tidal wave of memories. Nostalgia settles within him as he glances down at you to gauge your reaction to his home.

The Burrow stands proudly in the valley between two hills. You gasp at the sheer height of it, “This is where you grew up?”

Fred nods, eyes on you, “It is. I lived here until I moved to London.”

“It’s incredible,” You whisper, taking a step forward, and then another, and then another until you break through the long grass into a clearing. A garage is situated to the left of the large house, and you can just make out the canes for a vegetable garden. You nod as if understanding every motive for the placement of everything; if you were to live somewhere like here, you’d too grow your own food.

Fred draws your attention back to him by speaking, “Through there is where we practice Quidditch; the game I told you about from Hogwarts?” He continues when he sees you nod, “Then behind there is a pond that a family of frogs live in. To the right of us is mum’s garden, it’s her pride and hoy – she excels at household charms, but she’s a wonder in the garden too.”

“Fred, this place is incredible. I already love it and I haven’t even met your family.”

Fred smiles, “You won’t need to wait very long; here’s George.”

You turn from the sight of the growing vegetables to see George making his way over to you. “Fred! (Y/N)! How are you?” he calls out.

Fred waves at his twin, leading you to him. “We’re good, Georgie. How is everyone?”

George beams at his twin and then you, “They’re beside themselves with excitement. Mum screeched when she got your letter; gave us a lecture on decorum and everything.”

Fred laughs; his heart swelling with love and fondness for the woman who had raised him with such love and care.

“What do you say, (Y/N)?” George starts, “Ready to meet the Weasley clan?”

You grin at George and then at Fred; utterly besotted by this man, “Lead the way.”

George claps his hands before turning his back on you, heading towards the open door. You follow him at a faster pace than the one you had done when walking up to the house. Eagerness settling in your stomach as you keep your eyes on the open door.

Fred keeps pace with you easily; both nerves and excitement coursing through his veins.

He hears his mother before he sees her, “Fred! My darling,” she cries, tackling him into a hug so tight Fred thinks his ribs might break. You pause next to him; Fred’s arm angled awkwardly as he hugs his mum with one arm – you move to let go of his hand so he can hug his mother properly, but his hold on you tightens.

“Hi Mum, I’ve missed you,” Fred says at the sound of her cries, “I’m home mum, and I’m starving so let’s get something to eat, shall we? I’ve missed your cooking too much.”

Molly wipes her eyes, running them over her son, “I think you have. You’re looking far too thin, darling,” Her eyes land on you; they widen for a second before she’s tackling you in a hug. She whispers, “Thank you” in your ear before saying much louder, “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you, dear. I’ve read so much about you I feel I know you already but it’s never the same thing.”

You return her hug with just as much vigour, “Thank you for having me, I love your home.”

Molly pulls away, “You’re lovely; you’re perfect for Fred, I know it. Come on in, it’s time we ate, and you can meet the rest of the family.”

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you follow Fred into his childhood home. Voices starts to shout upon the sight of Fred entering the home; he grins at them all, greeting them by name, passing out kiss after kiss on the cheek as well as hugs to his brothers.

Then it’s all silent as the crowd turns to you. Fred’s hand drops your and his arm wraps around your waist, “Everyone this is (Y/N). Please be nice, I’m rather fond as you’ve probably heard from mum and George.”

Everyone greets you as if you’ve been part of the family for years; kisses on cheeks and tight hugs as everyone introduces themselves. A dream of your since you were child was to have a large family, and now with Fred, it seems as if that dream would finally be possible.

His arm rests on the back of your chair as the family take their seats at the table. The food is served with loudness and love; Molly taking extra care with her cooking to make sure it’s perfect for you. From your first bite, you understand what Fred was on about all those months ago. After eating Molly’s food, you would be ruined for anyone else’s.

It’s wonderful; they take you in with open arms, ignoring the fact that you’re a muggle because to them, it doesn’t matter. They aren’t bothered whether you have magic or not, just that you love Fred and make him happy.

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

After the meal, Fred watches you interact with his family; explaining to his father the purpose of your degrees and your plans for the future as Arthur sits there entirely enraptured. He watches you asking Charlie question after question about Dragons with Charlie only being too happy to answer – his girlfriend Evie chiming in every now and then with her own knowledge on the subject matter.

He watches you talk animatedly; eyed wide and hands gesturing wildly, fitting in with his family better than he could have dreamed of.

Sighing happily, Fred realises three things:

One – his family would always be there for him, no matter the issue. They’re there to help, to never hinder.

Two – he’s still healing. It will be a long time before he’s recovered from the war, and he’s accepted that.

And three – he’s moving forward with all that in tow because he’s found the love of his life and he’s finally ready to start living it.

*********

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