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#shitting on england is my favorite pass time but i still love him
queers-gambit · 4 months
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Aces
prompt: ( requested ) during a terrible storm, you're invited to stay at your boss' house. years of tip-toeing around one another comes to an end when emotions are finally laid on the table.
pairing: Tommy Shelby x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Peaky Blinders
word count: 3.5k+
warning: honestly, it's pretty tame. some cursing, kinda-sorta one bed, most def OC Tommy, fluff, author is def on the Grace Hating Train but it's mild.
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With a grunt, you threw the file of paperwork from your hands across the empty room; scattering across the floor. You were agitated, grouchy, beyond exhausted, and yet, there was no use in trying to leave when the worst storm to ransack England was being unleashed from the seediest parts of hell.
All you wanted was to go to bed for about 16 hours, but as midnight ticked closer and closer, that dream was dwindling. You'd be lucky to get a few hours at this point since your job was demanding enough to warrant early mornings and late nights. But this night was later than ever before.
You often wondered if your employer's antics brought this hell-storm upon you all, but figured, God didn't care that much about Small Heath. He most certainly didn't care for the Devil running it.
"Woah!" A voice laughed when the file went flying. "Gott'an arm on yah, love! Nearly took me fuckin' eye out!"
"Ha-ha," you mocked John Shelby, your employer's younger brother. "What're you still doing here?"
"I was about to ask you the same," he smirked, squatting so he was in front of you with an exaggerated pout. "Why're you still here, love? Tommy's still gotcha workin'?"
"No, it's my own vocation."
"Tommy don't pay overtime, sweetheart."
"No shit," your eyes rolled. "In case I'm the only one capable of seeing it, there's an outlandish storm outside that prevents me from getting home." You gestured around where you sat on the floor, surrounded by files and other paperwork, "So, what else was I gonna do to pass the time?"
"It's not that bad," he waved you off. "C'mon, I'm off t'the Garrison, come with me, love. We can drink 'til the storm passes, huh?"
"John, seriously, I'm warning you," you deadpanned, watching him adjust his flatcap.
"C'mon, sweet cheeks, we can endure it," he laughed, opening the door and literally being shoved back by the force of the wind. You didn't make a sound, just reaching to hold down the papers around you as he grunted and groaned, trying to shut the flailing door; only able to once he threw his entire weight into it.
"Told you," you mused, his face and coat dripping wet from the short time the door was open.
"So, you're staying here, then?" He asked, panting, trying to play off the entire ordeal.
"I figured I'd get some more work done, it's not like Tommy gives any days off," you shrugged.
"He'd give you whatever you asked for," John smirked, taking his coat off.
"No, he needs me to do shit on the daily, there aren't days off, John Boy," you rolled your eyes playfully. "But I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to work for you idiots."
"Hey," he pouted.
"Oh, honey, if it helps any, you're my favorite idiot!"
"Good," he pointed at you with a small laugh. "But seriously, love, if you need the day off, Tommy would do it."
"No, there's so much to do here," you frowned. "We're on track to reopen in a few weeks, and if I take a day off, we'll fall behind, and you know Tommy doesn't do delays."
The gambling den the Shelby's operated was getting a make over now that The Shelby Company Limited was soon to be up and running. Hence why you were there in an empty room with only files around you and a dimly lit lap, you were trying to get shit organized before furniture could be moved back in.
You would have to restock Polly's office, Tommy's, Arthur's, and John's - all of who were Company members and would need their space to work. Not to mention the completely different office Tommy was currently eyeing to use as his base of operation, something you, as his personal assistant, was expected to help with every step of the way. Honestly, it was a miracle Tommy was ever able to get shit done before you - an organizational Goddess.
"Well," John sighed, looking around for a moment before shrugging and placing his hands on his hips, "want some help?"
You chuckled, "No, it's all right, John, you go on. Surely the lads will be home soon - "
Speak of the Devil! And He will appear!
The door burst open, sending your files every which way from the gust of wind; several bodies shoving their way inside before the lone, single body of Tommy Shelby stalked in last. He shut the door without issue, being a force of nature himself; a professionally observant, silent, lone menace that commanded the attention of any room he walked into. People on the street parted for him like the Red Sea, flocked to the darkened parts of the streets just to get a glimpse of the gangster in motion.
For as long as you can remember, you've harbored overwhelming affection for your boss, but never once vocalized it out of sheer fear of rejection.
He was Thomas Shelby. He was an enigma; a mysterious, stoic man that instilled a sense of fear and respect from those around him. You included, but yet never dare let your admiration for your employer be known in public. You loved him from a distance; admiring him and feeling yourself fall further into your unrequited love due to the intimate proximity you shared. He's always treated you as exactly what you were - a valuable member of the Company and his personal assistant. You worked intimately together on a daily basis, and each night you went home, you would scream into a pillow out of sheer frustration.
Being his personal assistant meant you were constantly in close proximity, and no matter how hard you tried to fight your feelings, it was impossible. He was Thomas bloody Shelby - insanely suave, charismatic, a deep nut to crack, but once he opened up, he was insanely loyal, caring, even decently amusing. He was all you wanted, but never felt secure enough to admit your feelings for him.
You were greeted happily by the men, all piling into the Shelby home to take refuge from the storm. You were left to silently rock to your feet and start gathering the papers that had gone flying in their entrance, glancing up when a hand offered help in rounding up your supplies. "Thank you, Mr. Shelby, but I got it," you insisted quietly, accepting the pages he handed you.
Tommy always had a soft spot for you.
He was silent for a moment, then asked, "What're you still doin' here?"
"Storm makes it impossible to get home," you shrugged. "I was waiting until it lessened, but it doesn't seem to," you glanced out the window, still shuffling files and papers together.
"You've worked all day," he sighed, "c'mon."
"Uh... Where?"
"Think you've earned a drink," he eased, already striding out of the room. You quickly finished gathering your papers, stacking them all together, but was pleasantly shocked when Tommy returned to the empty room with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
"Mr. Shelby, don't - "
But he was already sat on the ground, back against a wall, watching you with amusement. "Think a man's too good to sit on the floor?" He asked, uncorking the bottle.
"When their suit is so expensive that I have to take it to a specific cleaners, perhaps, then yes," you answered truthfully.
"I've money to spare, I can send this suit to be cleaned by another errand boy, you won't have to any longer," he poured two glasses of whiskey, "but tonight's company is too good to pass up."
You laughed, "Oh, no, what did you do?"
"Hmm?"
"You're kissing my arse a little, what've you done? What mess do I have to clean tomorrow?"
He smirked as you finally sat beside him, a bit stiffly, but accepted the drink he served. "Nothing, love, this storm's put a halt on everything," he gestured to the window, unaware that your heart stalled in your chest when you heard him call you 'love'. "What is it you were working on?" He asked, fingering the few files stacked between you. "Ah," he mused, reading the titles of the packets, "trying to get a jump on tomorrow, huh?"
"Not very much else to do," you shrugged. "I... I got a little frustrated. I think I'll need Polly to go over a few things with me."
"I'm sure you've got it," he spoke quietly. "I wouldn't have hired you if incapable."
You nodded, "Right, of course, sir."
Mr. Shelby offered you a look, taking a swig of whiskey. "You know, after hours, you don't have to be so professional."
"You didn't hire me to be unprofessional, though."
"No, I didn't, but this isn't a work meeting," he offered his glass. "We can still be friendly, can we not?"
You clinked his glass with yours, "Sure, of course we can..." How the hell could you be 'friendly' to the man you've pined after for the past two years? "So, I heard Grace skipped town," you started, instantly wincing when you realized what you said. "I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Shelby, I didn't mean to - "
But he chuckled, "You heard correct." He waited a long moment, then offered, "She's gone - for good."
You tested the waters, "Is... That a good thing?"
"It is."
"I thought you liked the barmaid?"
"I thought I did, too, but I've been wrong before."
"I doubt that."
"No, truly," he smirked, "I've made my fair share of mistakes."
"That you'd be willing to admit to?"
"Well, that's a different story," he mused, downing the last of his glass. "C'mon," he decided, sitting up, "the others are in the den, if you'd like to join?"
"Oh, no, I don't wish to intrude."
"Where were you going to sleep, then? If this storm doesn't die off in the next hour?" You gestured to where your coat and belongings were bunched up beside you, shrugging lightly. "No, absolutely not," he glared when he took in your makeshift bed, "you're coming in, you'll stay the night here."
"No, you lot are having family time - "
"And why do you assume you aren't family yet?" He asked sharply, making you reel back a little. "Three years, you've worked with my family, a portion of that before any of us came home. C'mon, love, you're more family than others wish to pretend to be."
"You mean that?" You worried softly.
He offered a look of mild offense, "I don't speak to hear the sound of my own voice. I would not say it if I did not mean it."
The whiskey in your system encouraged you to offer a sharp look, snipping, "It would not kill you to just say, 'Yes, I mean it.'"
Tommy smirked lightly, nodding, "Yes, I mean it. Come, you'll stay here tonight."
You couldn't fight off the smile even if you tried. With your coat and purse in one hand, Tommy took the other to help you off the floor. Like a gentleman, he took your belongings before leading you further into the Shelby home; leaving the empty gambling den to find the others all stuffed around a table with a card game loudly being played; fireplace stoked to life.
Polly greeted you happily, not knowing you were still here. Tommy set your things to the side as Arthur wrangled you into the seat beside him - insisting you had to be on his team! A quick sniff of his tea mug assured he was waist deep in the whiskey.
"Okay! New player at the table!" John announced, yanking all the cards back to hand over to Polly. They were all smoking, minus you and Finn. "You all know the rules - hey, hey, hey, no! Tommy's not on her team!" He pointed at you and his brother, who had sat beside you to sandwich you between Shelby's.
"Why not?" Tom asked, accepting the tea from Polly as Finn handed you your own.
"Thank you, little love," you whispered, pecking his cheek as he giggled.
"Becuase you two can communicate without words - it's fucking weird!" John insisted. "All right! Polly, you're with Tommy - the fucker likes to cheat."
"Being better than you isn't cheating, John Boy."
"Is when there's money on the line!" John laughed, Arthur leaning over to explain to you the game. He was actually a very good teacher, and even for a few rounds, you weren't a "viable player" just to let you watch and get the gist of things.
However, when you joined the game, it was far more intense than you had given credit for. But the Shelby's were competitive lads, Polly just happy to laugh and remind the boys of the rules; letting them dominate the table as you were content to just watch, laugh, and sip your tea. After a few rounds, Finn came over and hopped up on your lap, declaring you two a team now, and believe it or not, you won the next three hands!
"CHEATERS! AYE!?" John yelled, laughing right after as a boom of thunder rattled the home.
"No, call that beginners luck!" Arthur tried to defend, Tommy lighting a new cigarette.
"Or maybe John's just not accustomed to losing?" You grinned. "Especially from a lady?"
"I lost to a lady? Where? Where is she?" John looked around comically, earning a swift kick under the table that rattled the tea cups.
"All right, all right, next hand, we play for money, come on, come on, bets in the center," Polly instructed. "Finn, don't," she warned and you reached up to push the lad's hand down as he was ready to toss in a few pounds.
"Here, I'll cover us," you told the little lad, both grinning when you offered money to the center. Unknown to you, Tommy was keeping mental track of however much you were betting - intent to pay you back. Yet he didn't say anything, content to watch you and Finn have fun together.
Arthur and John were the most vocal of the group, arguing about scores and tallies and who won which round. You chuckled as Finn leaned into your chest, everyone waiting for the two to finish arguing; Polly looking over with a broad smirk before dropping her gaze. Tommy had seemingly naturally moved closer to you, one arm extended behind your chair to keep you close to his warmth.
Neither seemed to notice.
Not even when you would turn to crack a joke directly in Tommy's ear, his lips spreading in an easy smile that made Polly fight off her own grin. Grace was something special to Tommy, sure, this was true, but after the time together, she could tell that the two of you had become something more - without even verbalizing it.
Never realizing.
Hours passed, the storm still raged, two cartons of cigarettes was smoked between the lot of them, and there was no clear winner in sight. Finn had fully deflated into your embrace, asleep despite the loud thunder and blinding flashes of lightning. Your head had lulled onto Tommy's shoulder, sleep clawing at your eyelids as you listened to a drunken John and Arthur still argue about the card game. Polly eventually called it quits and bid everyone a goodnight, smiling softly when she noted the cozy seating between you and Tommy.
The longer you sat there, you more exhausted you became.
"C'mon, love," Tommy whispered softly, rousing you from your half-sleep, "let's get you to bed. C'mon, up you get," he smirked, aiding you from your chair as you kept a firm hold on his little brother. "We'll see you lot in the morning," he told his brothers.
"Night," John and Arthur waved, still deep into their argument, but smirking to one another when Tommy lead you up the stairs. When you were gone from sight, John leaned in and asked his eldest brother, "Think Tommy'll make a move tonight?"
Arthur glanced up the stairs, musing, "If he doesn't, he might be stupider then we thought."
John agreed.
Upstairs, Tommy opened the bedroom door and let you lay Finn softly on his bed, pausing to tug his shoes off and cover him with his blanket; moving his stuffed teddy bear closer and watching his sleeping hand naturally curl around it. You snuck out of the door, Tommy shutting the door, and tangled your hand with his.
Silently, he lead you to his bedroom.
It was small, ridiculously small, but it was enough for his single person. Tommy shut the door after you, moving around, muttering, "You can sleep in this," as he handed you one of his shirts, "and I'll be in the drawing room if you need me - "
"Tommy, I'm not kicking you out of your room," you sighed. "I can sleep on the sofa for the night, it's not - "
"I'm not letting you do that," he refused sharply.
"Then we seem to be at an impasse," you decided with perked brows. "Either we're both sleeping on the sofa or we both crash your bed. You choose."
He chuckled dryly, "And here I thought the whiskey would make you less stubborn."
"Wishful thinking."
He nodded, letting you have the room to change and get under the covers. It was decently cold in his room, more so without pants; the storm doing nothing to remedy that, and when Tommy returned, everything felt different.
A good different, but still different.
Neither of you made eye contact, him joining you in the absurdly small bed after blowing the candles out. You settled on your side, facing the wall, and after a few moments of adjusting, Tommy was settling down - but hesitating to deflate in comfort.
"Is it all right if I, uh... If I...?"
"Yeah, 's all right, Tommy," you whispered, reaching for the hand that hovered over your waist and pulling it so he was curled around you. It was all he needed to readjust, sigh to himself, and deflate against your back. You shivered slightly when his warm breath fanned over your neck and shoulder; his hand splaying over your belly and rubbing his thumb mindlessly. "Thank you for letting me stay the night," you whispered.
"Wasn't gonna send you home in this weather," he answered, voice vibrating the shell of your ear. "Besides," he whispered in a sigh, "this is where I wanted you, and where I wanted to be."
You chuckled, "Oh, yeah? So cold in here you need a warm body in bed with you?"
"No," he whispered, "but I've been in love with you for months now that I didn't want you far from me. Doesn't feel right, seeing you go home without me - everyday. I was overjoyed to come back and see you still here."
"What?" He didn't let you turn around, just kept you both there; locked in your spoon. "Tommy, what're you saying?"
He took a sobering breath, "That this is what I want, this is where I want us to be."
"That's the whiskey talking."
"No, love, it's you," his lips danced across your ear, making you shiver. "It's always been you, but I wasn't in my right mind to do anything about it."
"And now you are?"
"I might be, I couldn't go another minute with you thinking I don't want you - that I don't value you in my life. The fact that you were ready to sleep downstairs hurt me more than I'm willing to admit," he sighed, "and I knew, I needed to confess a few things so you know, you're welcome in this family. You won't ever sleep downstairs, love, you're meant to be here... With me... If you want to be."
You had to slap his hand to get him to loosen his grip and let you turn around to face him; but his hand remained on your, moving up to grip your ribs. In a whisper, you asked, "You're being honest? Genuine?"
"I can't lie to you, you can always tell. So, am I lying?"
"I don't think so," you whispered with skepticism, eyes narrowed. Neither of your voices rose above a whisper, "Why say any of this, Tommy?"
"Because the idea of going another day without at least trying to tell you how I feel was beginning to feel suffocating."
"What about Grace?"
"It's taken me a bit, but I know now that I was infatuated with her simply because I had already decided you were out of my league."
"Do you hear yourself?" You grinned, caressing his cheek. "You're everything I've wished for, Tommy, but know I can't have. You're the one in a league of your own, I'm the one unable to touch you."
His head shook, "You're all I've wanted and more. I wasn't sure you'd think it appropriate - my affection for you - given you work for me."
"The same reason I feared voicing my affection for you, too."
"Now that it's in the open," he whispered, "how do you want to proceed?"
"We can figure logistics out later," you smiled, tracing your fingertips over his face, "but for now, I just want to enjoy this. I never thought you'd look at me the same way, and now that you do, I don't want to look away."
"You won't have to," he whispered. "I'm in this for us, my sweet, if you are."
"Nowhere I'd rather be," you whispered, cuddled close, and simply breathing the same air. For a single moment, Tommy felt unparalleled peace; the shovels quiet, heart content, and body warm.
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requesting rules and masterlist
Peaky Blinders masterlist
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penvisions · 2 months
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garnish {chapter 10}
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Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader
Summary: Time doesn't heal all wounds, but it does make the heart grow fonder. You find yourself missing Joel, too stubborn to reach out but Ellie is tired of seeing you both pinning as she navigates classes with you and her homelife with Joel now that she's back in the city.
Word Count: 3.8k
Warnings: canon typical language, reader is a dumb dumb, reader is stubborn and heartbroken, mentions of reader's past, trauma, complicated family dynamics, stressful family dynamics, reader mourns her past relationship with father, verbal abuse (past tense), ellie being a scheming lil shit, language, sexual content, references to sexual relations (past tense), smoking, cigarettes, nicotine, drinking, consumption of alcohol, melancholia, manic depressive internal monologue
A/N: WE DID IT, we made it to the end!! i've never finished a fic before so this is all so exciting and a little terrifying, to be honest. i hope hope hope that i've done this lil au justice, with it growing a mind and story line of its own i never even planned for somewhere around chapter five. but we did it and i am proud of this lil one and maybe self-indulged a lot with my own birthday on the 17th! please tell me your thoughts!! a HUGE thank you to everyone that interacted with this. y'all made this possible by engaging with me and inspiring me to continue on even when my own brain was working against me ♡
i would love to take prompts for these two dummies to expand their universe and story in the future if anyone is interested? but i'm still getting used to having what little attention my fics are getting and i dunno if that would be something people are interested in ♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi
“Well, you certainly have the enthusiasm, Ellie.” A smile passed over the desk, fingers curled over her application and subsequent documentation. She had already graduated from her Boston school at the end of the previous spring semester, already set up to TA for a favorite professor of hers in the new year after a successful first year of doing so for another. But she had a pending application for a secondary degree. One here in Austin. 
Her life laid out in front of you once she had begun school, having applied and gotten into an art program in England right out of high school, something she had gushed about excitedly for a few moments when you asked her about it. Sure, you had talked about it in passing over shared meals both in the comforting environment of father’s home and while out getting coffee that had developed as a regular occurrence any time she was in town.
She was only four years younger than you, both her and Sarah. So driven and excited about this time in their lives. Sarah having relocated to work for a company that fought for her attention and hire after a phenomenal performance in communications and social work out in California. Both supported and shown love in a way that used to make anger and jealousy flair up in you, but that you now saw as a blessing for those who had that kind of nurturing environment to flourish in.
“I just…the perspective of art and language of art you’re trying to explore is really fuckin’ interesting. I know it doesn’t necessarily fall in line with my focus of studies, but-“
“Classes that interest you are just as important as those that help along your degree.”
“And dad said that I could go for it, said if it’s what I want, he’ll help me in any way he can.”
“Ellie, it would be a pleasure to have you take part in the program. There is a two semester commitment, I will remind you. And the application you submitted for Austin is still pending. But if you’re on board, I can sign my approval and walk it over to the admissions office when we’re done here.”
“I was…actually going to see if you could give me a ride back to the house…dad was in a hurry when my car wouldn’t start, and I left my keys with him so he could take a look at it.”
“Oh,” Your bottom lip was between your teeth, nervousness taking ahold of you. “Um, well-“
“I totally understand not wanting to, but I would feel better going with you than taking a bus or somethin’.”
“It’s okay, I can. But let’s walk this over to admissions and see what we can get in the way of aid first, yeah?”
“Fuck yeah, thank you so much!”
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Your class sessions were at nine and lasted for two hours every Tuesday and Thursday. Not wanting to over log the students with a long block of class time on top of all the reading you did end up requiring of them in order to participate in the discussions. Only two days a week to allow for some leeway with the readings on top of the other responsibilities you were all to familiar with. You had explained to Ellie once her application had been switched over from pending to accepted.
You did miss the social aspect of working at the restaurant, the different foods and drinks you could try on a whim, the ability to get as much or as little human interaction as you wanted. But…you had made a choice to leave it behind. For good. Focusing finally on the things that you wanted to do for the rest of your life and a plethora of memories and stories of a time now past.
And Joel….you missed Joel.
But you were stubborn, sure that the man wanted to wash his hands of you after never getting a response.
Ellie was banging her head along to the tape that had been stuck in the trucks deck for years now. An old one from your childhood, one of the only things you father had intentionally gifted you. His love of music something you shared despite the rift and space created between you both. Your birthday up until you moved resulting in a gift card to the local record shop and a few tapes or CDs he wanted to share with you.
The younger girl belted out the lyrics, the loose strands of her hair whipping around from the cracked windows. You sang along with her, though not as loud, indulging her despite the ache that had settled in your bones. Having overthought yourself into a weird mood before class.
Suddenly the music faltered before the warbling completely as the ribbon inside began to loosen from the spool and hang out from the deck.
“Shit, that’s not good.” Ellie lamented as she reached forward to push the play button in to pause the music. She hit the ejection button and carefully pulled the tape from the mouth of the player. Her charcoal stained fingers spinning the spools one at a time to wind the ribbon back where it should be. A few moments later and she was reloading it and pushing play but the speakers only crackled before the tape ejected itself.
“Damn, it died.”
You didn’t say anything, thoughts a whirlwind as you panicked over loosing the last tangible connection you had with your estranged father. If she picked up on your tense silence, Ellie didn’t comment on it, leaving the tape hang half out the deck and moving to use the radio for the remainder of the ride.  
The house looked the same, Joel’s house, nestled to the side of a small cul-de-sac. The neighborhood calm and quiet in the early afternoon.
The graying curls you would recognize anywhere peaked from where Ellie’s care was being inspected by Joel laid out on a roller underneath the carriage. The hood was propped open and a giant tool storage cabinet had been wheeled closer to the opening of the garage. She bounded up to him, talking too fast for you to make anything out from the curb.
But Joel must’ve been able to decipher at least some of it because his gaze turned to you, oil staining one of his cheeks and his chest puffing up with a deep breath.
You felt your own breath catch low in your throat, a lump of air making it hard to breathe.
You drove off with your heart hammering in your chest.
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It was now February, the dreaded holiday of the month approaching and your birthday right along with it. A shame, that such a day overshadowed any plans you had once made. The holiday taking precedent with prefix menus that brought in generous tips from happy couples and friends. But this year, this year you could do whatever you wanted.
Stay in, go out, order takeaway, drown yourself in fancy truffles. Whatever you wanted. But the weight in your heart didn’t have you all too keen for the day to arrive. Wondering what Joel had decided for his special menu, the drinks Millie worked with Mary on to pair alongside it. Maybe….maybe you could snag a seat at the bar and indulge?
You let the thoughts trail off and focused on grading the papers in front of you. Needing to get them done before your attention was pulled by a movie night with your friends.
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You were up at exactly one minute before the clock stuck midnight. Bleary eyes watching the progression of the last sixty seconds before it was officially your birthday. Your phone buzzed with two texts immediately, all camps too much to handle in the early hour. Turning it to silent mode, you turned over and listened to the faint sounds of Sweet Pea playing with a bell down in the living room, hoping sleep would come back to you.
Waking up for a second time was a whirlwind, snooze allowing for you to sleep in until the absolute last minute before you had to get up. Shoving the tube of fabric that was a simple, off the shoulder dress over your head and fluffing up your hair with dry shampoo and you were out the door and headed to the campus.
“Alright, everyone, since I’m feelin’ a little generous today!” You clapped your hands once, noticing Ellie slink in at the last minute before you typically announced the beginning of class. “I’m gonna play a documentary for today- but!”
You interrupted the happy chuckles from the group of about thirty or so individuals you had interviewed and approved for your program. “I will need a paper on the methods used to help identify the remains and artifacts, with your general interpretation of the cultural basis hypothesized from them due next class!”
“Professor, c’mon. It’s my birthday, it’s your birthday: let’s all just take it easy.”
A chorus of, “Is it really your birthday?! Why didn’t you tell us!” rang out across the room. Certain individuals looking genuinely upset that they had missed out on a chance to let you know how much they appreciated you and liked you. It made the ache in your heart lighten just a bit, weird mood about the day waning slightly in their unabashed openness. Ellie was oddly silent, normally one to engage loudly and enthusiastically, her phone in her hand, fingers a blur as she fiddled with it.
“If you really want to do something for me, please, concentrate on the documentary!” You turned your back to the class, booting up the video on your laptop and tugging down the projector screen that was closed and stored up above the whiteboard. Turning the lights off, save for one in the back for them to take notes with, you pressed play and offered one last tidbit before the opening credits rolled, “But it doesn’t hurt to bring a gift card for any local coffee shops.”
“Need a ride today, Ellie?” You asked the lingering girl, slow to pack her bag up once the class had ended and hesitant to disembark from the campus altogether. Her car was in the shop, something needing repair that was beyond Joel’s skill set. As well as a new set of tires they were waiting on to get delivered before installing them. The ones she had for the more intense weather seasons of Boston worn down over the years and needed replacing. You didn’t mind totting the younger girl around, offering her help with proof reading papers and going over terms that didn’t easily stick. Talking about nothing in particular, though Joel had been diligently inside the house or away each time you dropped her off at home, no more awkward glances since your little display of speeding off the first time.
“Was gonna offer to get you a coffee,” She wouldn’t look directly at you, setting you on edge. You were about to ask her if everything was okay when she suddenly swung her bag on her shoulder and faced you. “I’m helping at the restaurant today, assumed you wouldn’t be cool with dropping me off there.”
An hour later, you were both loaded in the car with too expensive coffee drinks and pulling up to the front of the restaurant. You didn’t want to test if you had clearance to park in the employee lot, not sure what would hurt more. The denial of your code beeping or the approval of your code chirping and opening the gate. Sighing, you put shifted into park and let the engine idle.
Ellie seamed to be taking her sweet time once again. Moving slow to collect her things, having hesitantly showed you the project she was working on for one of her art courses. The bell above the front entrance sounded as the door opened and your head snapped up to see Joel walk through it. He paused, holding the door open beside him as he gave a small wave to Ellie and a somber nod to you.
Yous lips lifted at the corners as you noticed the stain of what had to be beets on his otherwise pristine apron, the white of it displaying the dark red in a disturbing way. His other hand was behind his back, shrouded in the shadows of the interior. He shared a hushed work with Ellie as she finally exited the truck and slinked past him with a last wave toward you.
But Joel didn’t follow her inside.
He stepped outside completely. The door closing behind him with a soft thump.
He was walking toward the truck, the passenger window down all the way as Ellie relished in the fresh air before knowing she wouldn’t leave until well past midnight after the rush of the holiday. 
Your fingers dug into the skin of your thighs, dress having ridden up during the drive to expose the tops of them. The sun warm on them as your nails made crescent shapes in their softness, making your anxiety for the world to see. You were otherwise frozen, unsure of what to say, how to talk. He looked so good. Longer hair slicked back, sliver glinting in the sunlight at his temples and in the scruff of his face. A vaguely heart shaped patch where it didn’t grow in too tempting of a sight as you recalled the way it felt to pepper kisses there.
Joel’s eyes flickered down to your mouth as your tongue swiped out to wet your suddenly dry bottom one, his hidden hand finally shifting from behind his back.
You couldn’t help the little gasp that pushed from your chest as a boquet of flowers was revealed to be in his grip.
The colors of it shades of orange, gold, and yellow. A mix of chrysanthemums, sunflowers, and peonies all wrapped in a delicate tissue paper with a white ribbon holding it all together. In the middle of the front of it, there was something shiny.
“Thought it was an emergency, when she started blowing up my phone a few hours ago.” He finally spoke, stepping off the curb and up to the passenger side of the car. He extended the bouquet to you, hiding his face from you for a moment. You were able to make out the shiny thing in the middle.
It was a copy of the tape that had died the first time you had given Ellie a ride home. The one you couldn’t find anywhere online. The one you had almost just ordered a CD or digital version of. The one you had almost reached out to your father to ask about. It was impossible to find, to replace. But it was there, in the middle of a beautiful arrangement of flowers.
A sob suddenly wracked through your body, hands coming up to cup your chin and hold any others in as fat tears fell hot from your eyes.
“Oh no, no – this – this was supposed t’make you smile, darlin’, not burst into tears.” Joel quickly lowered it, moving it out of view of the windows frame and pulling it back behind him. “I’m so sorry, I – I was just trying to do somethin’ nice for ya on your special day.”
You hiccupped as you reached out a hand in a weak wave, wiping at your cheeks with the other.
“No, Joel, it’s…it’s really sweet of you to do this. I just…I don’t deserve it.”
“Of course you do, you deserve everythin’, darlin’.” He reached through the open window and gently placed the bouquet down on the passenger seat. Molasses eyes catching yours as he offered you a weak smile and a nervous display of his fingers slinking his hair back. “Just wanted to do somethin’ for you today. I didn’t know last year and well, this year I do.”
“Joel…”
“Don’t need anything from you, really. They’re for you and that’s that.” He shuffled on his feet, watching as the breeze ruffled your loose hair and the fabric of your dress, sleeves flowing in the wind, the shine of your necklace in the sunshine.
“Thank you, really. I- I appreciate it.” You reached over to tug the cassette from its secure spot. Turning it over in your hands, taking in the scratches on the plastic of the case. The memory of looking over the massive collection he had displayed in one of the guest rooms, the small shelving unit he had made himself to store all the tapes he had previously kept in boxes in the garage. “Joel, this is from your collection, I can’t-“
“You can ‘n I wanted to. Ellie told me yours got ate and I don’t listen to the tapes much these days, just the vinyl.”
Voice gone and heart beating fast, you nodded. Feeling the urge to lean over and pull him into the truck to drive around for hours and listen to the reverent offering in your hands. But he had a holiday menu to get back to and you had a new recipe to try out. Each on their own and in different worlds.
He patted the window sill twice with a wide palm before he was turning away and disappearing back inside. You watched him go, heart urging you to call out to him while your mind told you it wouldn’t ever be that simple again.
Friends had come and gone, sharing dinner and gifts with you. Crappy movies and good liquor, laughs abundant and feelings so alive. The kind of day that reminded you that you were alive and well. The kind of day that made everything else worth it, small moments tiding you over until you could feel like full and bright again.
You stared at the flowers until the alcohol in your system blurred them, the colors running together and dimming as sleep pulled you under in the late hour. The tape playing through to the end before the machine finally shut off, blanketing you in your passed out state.
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You would stare at them, as if they were pulling your attention every time you were in the kitchen or the living room. Choosing to hide away in your office or upstairs when you were home where they were out of site. When they began to wilt and dry up, you moved them to the back patio, not able to through them out but not able to reach out to the man who had gifted them to you.  
Finally removing them from the vase and cleaning it out. You bagged them up and left them on the counter to deal with after class. One that went by in the blink of an eye, almost like the day was rushing toward something. Rushing you toward something. The slow thrum of…something deep in your bones as you engaged in the discussion, leading it back to the focal point if it got too off tangent.
The routine of giving Ellie a ride one that hadn’t been prevalent lately since her car had been fixed and the middle of the semester rolled around. But today it seemed to be one of the things that time was ushering you toward. Driving Ellie home with post class treat of milkshakes this time, the weather beginning to inch toward the dry heat that was prevalent most of the year.
“Thanks again! See you Thursday, professor!” Ellie hollered over her shoulder as she all but tore out your truck and ran towards the front door. By passing the scene of Joel stood in the driveway, garage open behind him once again.
“I better! You have a midterm!” You hollered after her, no real malice in your voice.  
She whizzed past Joel who was stood at the front of her car, hood open and engine block exposed to his perplexed expression. His hands were on his hips, a wrench in one and a screwdriver in the other. He was looking down into the exposed parts with a look you couldn’t quite read from the curb but when he spotted Ellie he called after her.
“Babygirl, I don’t see anything wrong with it. You said it was making a rattling sound, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah! A rattling sound.”
“From…where, exactly?” He turned a furrowed brow to her but she was determined to get away from his prying gaze, scurrying off without any more words. Her bag thumping against her shoulders as she rushed toward the door.
You had been so focused on watching her nearly trip over the steps leading to the front door that you didn’t notice Joel rise from his spot tinkering with something on her car and approach the side of yours.
“Hey there,” His cautious voice greeted you too close through the open window.
“Oh jesus, fuck! Joel don’t do that!” You startled so bad the seatbelt locked up and tightened around you, preventing you from taking a deep breath to calm yourself.
“Shit, sorry. Thought you saw me comin’ over.” A sheepish rub of his hand along the back of his neck, had your eyes roaming over the picture he made in the frame of the open window. Perfectly fitted, as if he should be on the inside of the truck beside you instead of standing outside of it. Close, but not close enough.
Quiet fell over the both of you, Joel looking into the cab of the truck, grease and oil marring his beautiful skin and white t-shirt and you gazing just to the right of him, not able to directly do so now that his attention was focused. The words shared between you both, all of the good, all of the bad, and all of the confusing floating in the heavy air between two people who had lived far too much in such a short amount of time. Echoes of everything passing in the charged air between you both.
Your name being uttered had your eyes glancing at his, the sun lighting them up into a bright hue and your heart fluttered in your chest. You held his gaze for a few seconds, heat creeping up your neck from the pulse of warmth that only he could cause filling your chest.
“Alright, well…thanks for bringing Ellie home.” He reached a handout to pat the side of the truck before shoving away.
“Hey, Joel, wait…” You leaned over, hoping that the words in your throat didn’t get stuck. When he turned quickly back to you, there was a hopeful pinch to his features, lips pursed as he waited with bated breath for you to continue. Taking a deep breath, you locked eyes with him again, keeping up the connection. The hope that glinted in them helped the words to flow from you in a quick push.
“Do, um, do you want to grab a coffee sometime?”
previous chapter || end
taglist: @hiddenbabynyc @jessthebaker @clevergirl74 @anavatazes @samiamproductions @76bookworm76 @tuquoquebrute @sarap-77
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics
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mistwraiths · 1 year
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3 stars
The Last Hours has to be the most dramatic, messiest, frustrating trilogy CC has written so far. It's funny to me particularly since I didn't like TID much nor do I like Will Herondale or Tessa, but I don't remember being particularly so frustrated. Chain of Thorns is a better book than Chain of Iron in my opinion, it doesn't feel as long and boring as COI did. But there is still FAR too much unnecessary drama and miscommunication to this series.
For me there was only three characters I loved very dearly and were rooting for the entire time. Grace Blackthorn, Alistair Carstairs, and Christopher Lightwood. I loved Grace from the beginning and I will defend her with my dying breath, I loved every part she had in this book. Alistair has come a long way and I loved his character arc. And then, tragedy struck.
I KNEW someone was going to die. There's always a death of the main group, I knew it was coming. My money was on Matthew. It honestly made sense to me that he, being one of the unconnected to another character except for James, along with him suffering through withdrawals and going to Edom where he was not expected to go. It would have been a bit poetic since James' father Will had experienced something similar. But instead, CC kills off Christopher Lightwood.
I was shocked and furious, and I could have possibly accepted it better if it felt like any of the characters grieved or felt something for more than a page or two and then a half-hearted mention later. You're telling me that someone they've known their ENTIRE LIVES, someone who was so kind and genius, that you can't spare more than a mention here or there or GIVE GRIEF FOR HIM ON ACTUAL PAGES?? Instead, I have to read a whole intermission chapter on someone grieving TWO CHARACTERS WHO ARE ALIVE AND MADE A CHOICE (one they didn't have much choice but still) TO GO TO EDOM??? It felt like a slap to the face, an insult to the character. Grace and Christopher deserved to be a science nerds together. Of course the magic sword conveniently couldn't help heal and Lucie's powers to talk and raise the dead conveniently only worked on specific circumstances.
Okay, now that that's out of the way, let's discuss other things. The whole Belial plot felt super weak to me. He wants to possess James to walk on earth and become King of England?? Sir aren't you a fallen angel?? A Prince of Hell? Shouldn't your goal be more I WILL KILL SHADOWHUNTERS AND BURN THE EARTH or something?? Belial was also just all talk. He hardly ever really felt like a THREAT. Like oh shit this guy is going to SLAUGHTER people. I did like the part of him burning through the hosts because that felt horrific and violent and proper Prince of Hell stuff. Also the whole traveling to Edom's capital was very boring.
The whole Cortana sword having some paladin bond to heal the wounds it creates felt so ridiculously contrived and stupid to me. I can get behind a healing sword. I can get behind the sword only healing its paladin. But only healing the wounds it creates is so silly and only felt necessary to have this plot finished with the HEA intact. I knew James wouldn't die since we learned that he's alive to see Will pass away from old age. But honestly??? I think it would have been a very good ending if he had died. It would have had an impact.
Cordelia was overall a very average heroine for me, I don't think she's particularly my favorite mostly because of the drama and lies and miscommunication and pride/fear of being pitied. For the life of me, I don't understand why Lucie and her became parabatai. What deep friendship do they have because we certainly see no evidence of it. I did like James and Cordelia a little better when all that nonsense was finished, but again they don't have chemistry to me and their bond seems only physical to me.
I think I was a bit irritated that I'm being told after the bracelet is broken and done having been a plot device for two books, that it has had all these effects that we don't particularly get to see. Most everyone didn't understand James being in love with Grace but like... Grace was also secluded from everyone and they knew he spent summers with her. That to me personally isn't enough evidence to say "the bracelet kept you from considering it". Like I would have liked to see some examples of them thinking about it and becoming fuzzy or distracted or something. Also, we don't really get a chance to see James BEFORE the bracelet so telling me it utterly changed how he was/acted gives me nothing if I never knew him in the first place??
My heart goes out to Matthew it does but again, it very much felt like he didn't have much of an importance to the whole story. Which again, begs the question why wasn't he killed. It just blows my mind that Belial just allowed him to stay.
I actually really loved Jesse in the first two books but not only was he kind of boring and pushed to the side in this one, his attitude towards Grace really pissed me off. Jesse more than anyone should know how awful his mother could be and Grace was a CHILD and had to live with her. When she tells him everything, he reacts so poorly. Like, of course he can be upset, but GRACE IS YOUR SISTER AND A VICTIM. Like??? It made me so angry. Even Cordelia had better grace than her own brother.
I'm happy that Grace, Alistair, Thomas, Anna, and Ari get to be happy. Justice for Malcolm Fade in this book. I understand the whole interrogation thing with Tessa and Will and the others keeping such huge secrets. We know the truth that they are well-meaning but no one else does. There is a huge favoritism and lying doesn't give anyone a reason to trust. Would it have caused tension to be truthful? Yes. But it would have allowed trust and good faith. But of course obviously it all happened very conveniently to get everyone authoritative and Jem out of London and The Silent City so no one could stop the kids.
Overall, this book at least felt like everything was moving forward at a better pace and it was an okay ending.
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andrewsneil · 2 years
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11, 21, and 44!! 💕
thank u sm for the ask !!
11. favorite extracurricular activity?
see if you mean like, extracurricular SCHOOL wise, i simply did not do any. it was compulsory at my school to at least do one but. i just didn’t i thought they were stupid and i didn’t want to spend any time there if i wasn’t forced to! when i was at primary school i swam for a while between like, the ages of eight and eleven maybe?? but it wasn’t an activity within school, it was lessons at like, another school i did not attend because that was the only school in my town that had a pool? (actually the school WAS the school i’d go to for secondary school but like. i was in primary at that point) so! none <3 fuck extracurricular activities
21. something you’ve kept since childhood?
oh !!! i am a hoarder i have literally never thrown anything away in my entire life. main thing is probably the teddy i sleep with, i’ve had him since i was two! i trapped my fingers in a dodgy elevator at a big english store and it was like. one of the elevators that didn’t have the sensors in yet that keep the door open if you’re not in proper which were ILLEGAL so the manager gave me a donkey teddy to get me to stop hysterically crying and i loved him so much he gave me him in hopes my parents wouldn’t sue <3 i still have my original ds, it’s red and literally falling apart and doesn’t turn on but i’m not throwing it away ever. and i have every single collar every one of my cats have ever worn. i actually lost garfield’s for a really long time, my dad had it but! i found it the other week and it’s so tiny. and that’s from when i was like? nine. so counts as childhood, i was a kid then (i could honestly go on for so much longer bc i am such a stupidly sentimental person, every inanimate object has meaning to me and it’s one of the only things i don’t hate abt myself <3)
44. you get a free pass to kill anyone, who is it?
jk rowling or the queen of england. OR my neighbour because he keeps playing fucking shit drum and bass music at three am and keeping me awake and i’d quite like it if he didn’t exist! or maybe my ex who actually fucking traumatised the shit out of me lmao
send me weird asks :)
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mostlymaudlin · 2 years
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so @sokani-aftg made this post about neil being a chaotic driver and there was a throwaway line abt them getting dunks in there. and i thought the post was funny and it sparked this thing, in which i give kevin a heart attack and neil an emotional attachment to dunkin fuckin donuts. (i have an emotional attachment to dunkin donuts.)
rated T. a lil bit of horny thoughts and light mention of past abuse. ~1k
Andrew is half asleep in the passenger seat, cheek pressed against the window, when Neil flings the Maserati into the exit lane. His head thunks against the glass with the force of it. Nicky lets out a surprised squeal that turns to a pleased, maniacal laugh as Kevin hisses and curses and clings to the back of Andrew’s seat.
“Sorry,” Neil mutters in Russian, flicking his eyes briefly to Andrew. Andrew just shrugs, yawning and stretching his arms out in front of him until his shoulders pop as Neil brakes hard at the bottom of a familiar exit ramp. Andrew spots the tell-tale logo on the blue highway exit sign.
“We already left late,” Kevin complains. “We don’t have time for coffee.”
“I think Neil made up for the lost time already,” Nicky says gleefully. Nicky loves when Neil drives, says it made him feel alive. Neil is the same behind the wheel as he is on the Exy court: fast, reckless, and driven solely on instinct. It ramps Kevin’s anxiety up to eleven, and when Aaron heard that Neil was driving tonight, he’d bailed on their trip to Columbia.
Andrew thinks Neil is a shit driver. He frequently almost kills them; half the time Neil avoids wrecks only because other drivers are able to get out of his way just in time. But somehow, Andrew feels untouchable in the passenger seat as Neil yanks the car left — narrowly avoiding oncoming traffic — into the Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.
“I liked our place in Maine,” Neil told Andrew once. They’d been on an empty stretch of coastal road in Georgia, sitting on the hood of Andrew’s car. Neil’s face was pressed against Andrew’s shoulder. “We were there for almost a year, renting a two-room cottage near the water. Everything was near the water there, though. It was a peninsula.”
Andrew rested his cheek against the top of Neil’s head, a silent invitation for him to continue.
“My favorite thing about that town had nothing to do with the ocean, though,” Neil said, and Andrew could feel his lips curving through the thin cotton of his shirt. “I swear, regardless of how small a New England town is, it’s still gotta have at least two Dunks.”
Andrew shoved Neil off him, then caught his elbow when Neil almost fell off the hood of the car.
“You and fucking Dunkin’ Donuts,” Andrew muttered. Neil had been mildly obsessed with the mediocre coffee chain since a franchise opened close to campus, frequently wheedling Andrew into hitting the drive through for iced coffee before and after practice.
“We had four Dunks within a three mile radius,” Neil continued when he’d settled back on the hood, sitting cross-legged. Neil reached into Andrew’s pocket to grab his cigarettes and lighter. “The other kids would invite me to just go hang out at the one near school and eat Munchkins. My mother used to flip when she’d catch me there.”
Andrew studied Neil’s face as he lit two cigarettes, passing one to Andrew. The mention of his mother didn’t seem to throw him off — Neil stared at the cigarette in his hand with the ghost of a smile.
“I thought you just liked all the orange branding,” Andrew said. Neil met his eyes and his full lips stretched into a grin. Andrew took a drag, exhaled slowly, then grabbed Neil’s chin, putting those lips of his to better use.
Now, Neil kills the engine and shifts to look into the backseat.
“What do you guys want?” he asks. Kevin grumbles out his coffee order and Nicky flip-flops between several types of doughnuts.
Andrew gets out of the car, stretching more. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and then he’d over-exerted himself during tonight’s game when the freshman back-liner picked up a red card and significantly weakened the defense. The ache in his bones won’t stick around after a good night’s sleep, but still, it’s enough that Andrew took up Neil’s offer to drive them to Columbia tonight.
When Neil gets out of the driver’s seat, Andrew follows him to the door. He leans his back against the counter and watches Neil order. Neil adds a Dunkaccino — the brand’s chocolate and espresso monstrosity — with whipped cream at the tail of his order, and Andrew gives him an approving nod. Neil puts his fingers to his temple in a mocking salute. Andrew rolls his eyes.
There’s no one else in the Dunkin’ Donuts at 10pm on a Friday, and the teenager behind the counter has disappeared to put together their order. Neil’s eyes finish sweeping the room at the same time as Andrew’s, and Neil takes a step toward him.
“We won,” Neil says, inching even closer. Andrew doesn’t roll his eyes this time. He’s more tolerant of Neil and Kevin’s dogged obsessions with Exy now that their performance is actually keeping them alive. Andrew lays his palms on Neil’s hips, either holding him back or holding him in place, he’s not sure. The fluorescent lights wash out Neil’s skin, making his pink scars and the purple bruise he earned at tonight’s game stand out harshly against his cheek. Neil’s blue eyes burn just as brightly as always, so intense that Andrew is tempted to push Neil’s face away.
“We won,” Andrew confirms. “And now we get to hang out in a Dunkin Donuts.”
The fire in Neil’s eyes cools to a warm glow, his mouth quirking up at the sides. Andrew reaches up to brush his thumb along Neil’s bruise just once before letting his hands drop to the side.
“It’s a good night,” Neil agrees. He takes a small step back and tucks his hands into his coat pockets.
And it must just be because Andrew is tired. It must be because Neil is letting himself ride the ridiculous high he gets from an Exy win rather than picking at their near-misses with Kevin like a pair of twitchy kids with scabbed knuckles. Because after checking over his shoulder to make sure they’re still alone in the shop’s lobby, Andrew reaches up for Neil’s shirt collar and yanks his face down to Andrew’s level.
Neil, still smiling, brushes his lips softly against Andrew’s waiting mouth. There’s a shuffling sound as the teenager behind the counter makes his way over with their order, and Neil leans away again, face smoothing into neutral as he thanks the barista and grabs the drink tray. Andrew plucks his Dunkaccino from Neil’s hands and takes a sip, letting the sweet warmth of it seep into his bloodstream. He lets Neil get a head start for the door and admires toned legs and glutes flexing under skin-tight denim. He watches Neil turn around when he notices Andrew isn’t following, shooting him a knowing smirk and beckoning Andrew with a jerk of his chin. Andrew is going to sink his teeth into that chin later, he thinks. He’s going to suck a bruise into Neil’s sharp hip bone that will hurt more and better than the one still blooming across his cheek. He feels his weariness evaporate for the first time this evening.
Andrew redirects Neil to the passenger side door with a hand at the small of his back, shoving him into the seat. Neil looks up at Andrew curiously, ignoring Kevin’s muttered “Thank god” from the back seat.
Yeah, Andrew thinks, taking the keys from Neil’s outstretched hand. It’s a good night.
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point of no return (georgenotfound x f!reader)
author: me! @thegirlwhowritesawksh-t​
word count: 3.6k +
warnings: maybe a bit of angst, hella fluff? if there’s any you think you see, let me know!
A/N: first off: hi guys! this is my first fic ever (i’m a noob lmao), so please be gentle! i am in the process of writing some more about whoever I feel like simping for next... probably still George, mi amor *kisses* and second: to whoever’s reading this: stay hydrated, smile and laugh! let me know what y’all think! *sending besitos to y’all :))
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Sometimes it was hard to find the words to say I like you, much less, “I love you”. For (y/n), it was easy to say it to anyone. Friends, family, ex boyfriends. Everyone. Everyone but him. Pacing across her room in the flat she shared with George, all she could feel were her nerves on edge. Down the hall, in his own room engaging in a do not laugh match with Dream in Minecraft, George sits oblivious to the predicament (y/n) has currently placed herself in.
Her phone chimes with an incoming text from the man invading her thoughts -
GogyBogy: just about to finish up with Dream. movie night? your choice?
She can’t help but let out a soft scoff, but smiled and typed a yes back, slowly getting ready to head downstairs to make the popcorn and pull out the assortment of films to decide to watch.
It’s not like she knew that she was attracted to him the whole time. It had only been recently, when George decided to attempt a cooking stream, and all she could do was focus on how he had spent time looking for the best outfit for the stream.
“I have to look like I know what I’m doing, you know, I’m Chef George!”, letting out a giggle as he perfects his outfit. Maybe it was how he looked in his outfit, or maybe it was how his hair looked soft to run her hands through. One thing she knew for sure: like a shit ton of bricks, she was over the moon for him, and she just realized that now.
Since her earth-shattering realization, (y/n) has tried her best to remain cool and collected around George. There have been a few mishaps, though. One incident in mind merely happening just this morning. >>>
Cooking eggs in a skillet, (y/n) hums lyrics to a popular song, eyes closing every so often fighting to stay awake. Finding plates for two, she starts to flip the eggs, humming louder each passing minute, only loud enough to fill the empty room. Lost in the focus to flipping the eggs, she fails to notice George trudging in, pulling another late night editing videos for his YouTube channels.
“Isn’t it a bit early to be singing?” George mumbles, as she pauses mid-song. “How else am I to wake? It’s either I hum, or I blast some album full blast on Spotify. Want to listen to One Direction then? They have the Best Song Ever” (y/n) chuckles.
“Touché”. He remarks, (y/n) laughs and deciding that the eggs are fully cooked, she plates them, and adds garnish, consisting of pepper and a pinch of salt.
“Do you want tea?” (y/n) asks, as George responds with a yes.
“Can you get the mugs then? I’ll start heating water in the kettle” she asks as she starts looking for the kettle.
“Mugs are already on the table, and I’ve just grabbed the kettle. Let me do it, you’ve made breakfast this morning.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m right here already- “ (y/n) says as George quickly moves to the sink, filling up the kettle with water. “Don’t worry! I am an expert on making tea, (y/n)” George states, with a scoff rolling off of (y/n)’s lips.
“Right, and I’ll be the next Queen of England” she snorts, finally pleased with her creation. Turning around to put the finished masterpiece on the table, she jumps back realizing that George is right in front of her.
“What the heck!?” she asks as she’s still balancing the two plates on her hands. George only stifles a small smile.
“I told you, I’ll make the tea”, he replies. (y/n) opens her mouth to object with something snarky when all thoughts have gone out the window.
George, in the midst of heating the kettle, leans forward unconsciously holding onto (y/n)’s waist, as he reaches behind her to place the kettle on the burner next to the previously used skillet. Not only does she feel him grasping her waist, it then emphasizes that she’s trapped between the stove and George. So much for avoiding feelings, (y/n) thought.
He returns to his previous position, not yet letting go of (y/n)’s waist. Whether it be on purpose or on accident, (y/n) couldn’t tell for the life of her, she was focused on not dropping the plates of eggs. (y/n) then quirks an eyebrow, as if questioning why he’s still in front of her, holding her waist. George can only look back at her in confusion, eyebrows furrowing.
“I didn’t think you were clumsy to the point you decided to hold onto me”, (y/n) mutters as George’s eyes widen, hand dropping to his side as quick as he placed his hand on (y/n)’s waist. Just as quick as he dropped his hand, (y/n) felt immediate loss on what seems to be like her burning waist.
(y/n) can’t help but look down at the plates of eggs, no doubt that they started to cool off before she glances at his hand. The hand that held her, of course. Cheeks blushing, she attempts to side step at the same time as he does. He laughs and tries to side step in the opposite direction, yet she can’t help but make the same mistake again. Hearing George giggle at the latest mishap, (y/n) tears her eyes away from his hand the eggs to look up at him.
Her breath once again hitches at the close proximity between the two. She can’t help but glance at his hair, smiling at how messy his waves look. Looking lower, she stares at his eyes, his eyes staring back with humor, probably to their blunders only moments ago. With eyes slowly decreasing of crinkles, he takes a small breath, just pausing as he looks at (y/n) with renewed curiosity. (y/n) slowly starts to glance even lower, settling at just his lips. She sees words coming out of his mouth, yet she’s zoned into the idea if her lips would mesh well with his. Maybe it’s her imagination, but George seems to pause and reciprocate the idea of looking at (y/n)’s lips, licking his bottom lip slightly to ease the dryness that seemed to fill the air.
Minds contemplating, (y/n) decides to inch her face closer to George, with George seeming to think the same. - Just a few more milli-
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH! The tea kettle whistles and George immediately jumps back, at a loss for words. Embarrassed at his sudden action, (y/n) hangs her head down, and mumbles out,
“I- I uh think I’ll have the tea later. Enjoy your breakfast. Wait, lun-, oh whatever”, (y/n) rushes out as she speed-walks to her room, with both cold plates of eggs, sweaty hands, and a confused George still holding onto the tea kettle, seemingly at odds with what just happened.
>>>
Maybe I’m just going crazy, (y/n) thought as she starts to heat up the popcorn. Quarantine is still in effect, and it has been a while since she’s seen other people. She’s only seen George and George only. Not that she minds, of course. With a sigh, she turns to the microwave, running her thoughts back to this morning, lost in her thoughts. Were we about to...?
“(y/n)!” George whispers. She whips her head around to see George standing in the doorway leading to the living room, a faint glow of yellow behind him. “Yes?” (y/n) asks as she takes the popcorn out of the microwave, cursing as she burns her hand on the paper bag.
“Isn’t it your choice tonight to decide on a movie?” He ponders, walking towards (y/n), her taking an instinctive step back. George raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question the sudden movement.
“I think so. How do you feel about Harry Potter?”
“Oh, come on! We watched Deathly Hallows Pt. 2 when you chose last time!” George groans as (y/n) moves past him into the living room, dead set on the film.
“So, we can start over again! Sorcerer’s Stone it is!”
“I don’t see how this- “ “George, please?”
Taking a moment to glance at (y/n), DVD in one hand, the other wrapped around her waist, George mutters a yes as she begins to put in the film.
“If we watch this, you’re playing Minecraft next time on stream”, he grumbles, grabbing a blanket to wrap around his body before settling onto the three-seater couch.
“I mean I suppose so…” (y/n) chuckles, grabbing another blanket and settles onto the couch. Only as she sat down did she realize she’s sitting in the middle of the couch, George sitting to the right of her.
“Didn’t we decide that you would sit on the left end of the couch and I would be at the other end, since you kick, and I tend to shuffle around a lot?” George smirks.
“I- “ (y/n) pauses. It’s true, she thought. She assumes she was happy choosing the film, that she decided to plop down beside him. Or so she thought. After taking a minute, she sighs and replies,
“Would you like me to mo- “ “No! It’s fine! Just unusual is all.” George says quietly.
“I can move if you want me to. I don’t have cooties, but I can move if you’d like.” (y/n) mumbles. Her heart slowly starts to beat faster with each passing second as silence begins to fill the room, the only light being the t.v. radiating in the background. Don’t make me move, George, (y/n) prays inside her thoughts.
After about a minute, George shakes his head.
“It’s fine. Sit!” He chuckles, before settling deeper into his spot. (y/n) breathes out a sigh of relief, thanking the heavens for him not noticing how much she’s blushing.
I’m fine, it’s just George, (y/n) repeats inside her head, no doubt failing. The movie begins to play, and (y/n) feels all of her worries fade away, smiling at watching her favorite childhood movie again. Relaxing deeper into the couch, her mind wanders back to the earlier memory of this morning again. Mind going numb with endless ideas, she failed to notice George’s arm tucked behind her head absentmindedly pulling her strands of her hair. He moves his hand slowly down to rest on her left shoulder, rubbing endless amounts of shapes, searing the imprint of warmth. Chest tight, she realizes the state she’s in with George, feeling the pressure raise higher as his hand remains there. (y/n) starts to sit frigidly, as if one wrong movement could set off dominoes. In this case, another awkward situation with the man she’s found herself lost for.
Where are we even in the movie? Really? Harry going to the zoo? Holy- (y/n)’s thoughts pause as George softly grips her shoulder - with her tensing up even more - before removing his hand to rest at his side, and (y/n) blushing at the sudden loss of contact. Cursing at her awkward being, she starts to readjust, hoping that George wouldn’t notice how wound up she is all from him. All from a shoulder touch, and she’s fully convinced she won’t ever recover from the man that is shy, sweet, confusing George. Still readjusting herself on the couch, she manages to cross her legs under her, holding onto George’s left thigh. Eyes wide, feeling George tense up, she manages to turn her head a bit to the side, to see George’s gaze on his thigh. (y/n) retracts her hand away.
“Sorry, you know how long these movies are…”, she mutters, cheeks flushing at the close contact. George can only cough and nod as he tries to focus back into the movie. I don’t know how much longer I can take this, (y/n) repeats into her head, trying to zone back into the movie.
>>>
How (y/n) was able to watch half of the movie without dying of embarrassment, she did not know. But she was thankful to appear normal in front of him, or so she would hope. Rigid with each movement, she felt scared making a move with the worry that she’d cause an uncomfortable situation. Yet, her head thought otherwise. I think I’d do just about anything for his warmth on me again, even if it’s just his hand on my shoulders, (y/n) thought.
The Golden Trio met Fluffy for the first time, and all (y/n) could think about (besides the man next to her) was going to Hogwarts, wishing it was real. The spells, the robes, Quidditch, everything about the universe has always called out to (y/n), and all she could do was endlessly hope it could potentially be a reality, even if she did look foolish for believing in that. George managed to discreetly glance to the side and see her dazed eyes zeroed onto the screen, and mouth moving to quote each line. All he could do was stare in awe, of her knowledge of this magical world, her persistence to memorizing each spell, and how there seemed to be a basking glow upon her figure. She looked like heaven, the epitome of warmth. What (y/n) couldn’t see was that he too, was enamored with her as she was with him.
George had an idea to test the waters. If she responded, he would continue. If she didn’t, he’d forget all about it and attempt to move on from the woman he was sure was the one. (y/n) saw from the corner of her eyes that George readjusted himself that while he was sitting casually beside her, he lowered his hand to rest on his thigh. Heart still stuttering, she lowers her eyes realizing that her thigh is directly next to his, mere millimeters from touching.
Rigid, she sits straight up, unintentionally knocking her thighs into George. She stares at their thighs, chuckles a bit and struggles to watch the movie again, knowing her thigh is definitely touching his thigh. With arms crossed against her waist, she can’t help but watch his hand in the mere hopes that it would ‘accidentally’ brush her thigh.
As she keeps her eye contact on his hand, George begins to tap his pinky finger on his thigh. He taps, wiggles, slides his pinky with his hand still resting on his thigh. While still resting his hand, he slowly starts to move his hand to the left, making it that his hand sat on part of his thigh, and the other part was on top of (y/n)’s thigh, starting to shyly tap his pinky on her thigh. Letting out a gasp, (y/n) could only freeze at his hand - no his pinky - tapping her thigh, and it’s already turning her into a nervous mess. What the hell is he doing to me?, (y/n) asks to herself.
If you go down this route, it’s past the point of no return…
But it’s worth it…
How can you even be sure if he feels the same?
(y/n) can’t help but engage in a battle with her thoughts before finally coming to a decision.
Yes.
With bated breath, she slowly moves her hands to rest on top of her thigh, the hand closest to George shaking slightly. With a bit more confidence, she begins to move her right pinky on her thigh, moving in contradicting patterns, just barely touching George’s thigh. Soon enough, their pinkies start to move in sync, and (y/n) can’t help but bask in his warmth, even if it’s just his pinky. So used to his pinky against hers, (y/n) eventually hooks her pinky against his, effectively stopping their movements.
George lets out a huff of air, and (y/n) freezes, overthinking that she went too far. A full two minutes pass, only hearing Harry Potter finding the Mirror of Erised, and silence from George himself. Getting ready to back off, she releases a breath and begins to retract her hand from George.
“Okay, I’ll just- “
George shuts her up with his hand on top of hers, effectively placing his hand of top of their thighs. He then releases a shuddering breath, only to be met with complete silence. (y/n) looks at their thighs, then their hands, then George, back to the movie, to him again. She starts to find the words, only to come out with nothing. What can come out of her mouth besides, your heart is all I need.
Taking a minute to regain her composure, she lowers her guard, opening her hand so slightly that his fingers fill in the spots in-between hers. With a soft smile, he slowly grips her fingers, starting to rub her thumb with his.
“I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand,” George mutters quietly, as if he were to speak any louder, he’d shatter the moment, whatever this moment is.
“And you think I haven’t?” (y/n) asks.
“I didn’t say that,” George pauses. “How would I know? There weren’t any signals, no signs or hints, (y/n).”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, George. I’m always scared of messing up around you now. I can’t breathe, knowing that we breathe the same air.  And how do you think I feel about us living under the same roof? I have to stop myself from tearing my hair out and- and stomping over to your room and just… confess. I’ve become desperate for your touch, yet I’m scared that if we pass that boundary, you wouldn’t feel the same! I mean, look at this morning, y- you- we almost kissed and you didn’t say anything! I assumed you just thought it was nothing, and we’d work past it. How is it not obvious that I’m in love with you!?” (y/n) blurts out, ripping her hand away from his, only for him to grip her hand again. Despite the nerves in her veins, she can’t help but relish in his hand still holding hers.
“Can you tell that my hands are shaking? Because they are, (y/n). Is it obvious that I don’t know what to do in situations like this? All I know is that just one look at you, I fall apart. I-I-I can’t begin to count all the times I’ve wanted to hold your hand. And that’s just holding your hand. Kissing you, calling you my Love, Darling, my Everything? I don’t know what else to say except that I fall apart from you. Everything you do makes me scared and I have no idea what to do, because I am just now realizing how much I adore you.” George confesses. (y/n) can only stare back with adoration, yet confusion swirling in her thoughts.
“You know, I can tell everyone how I feel. I love my mom, I love my sister, I love pets, I love One Direction, for gods’ sake! Yet if I say that to you… why is it that I feel like I would break apart? Saying those three words to you just confirms that I am so hopelessly in love with you, and anxious to tell you to be mine. Screw it, I want you to be mine, I’ve been yours. I am yours. I want everything and anything with you, and all I need is a yes. A yes from you is it for me.” (y/n) replies.
“I’m not good with my feelings, expressing them, especially with this. There’s no turning back.”
“Stop giving excuses.” She scoffs.
“I’m not. I’m giving you a way out. In the case that one day, you might not think that I am enough for you.”
“Who said you weren’t? You’re everything to me.” (y/n) says, and George whips his head up to face her. She continues on,
“I’m ready to be yours. Hell, I am yours. I-I can’t even begin to say how much I- “ “Love you. I love you, (y/n).” George blurts out, hands still grasping hers. Gasping, she takes a deep breath, finally ready to succumb to her desires.
“I love you, George.” (y/n) admits. George closes his eyes and softly smiles, before opening his eyes and looking back at (y/n). Now when he’s looking at her, does (y/n) realize how reciprocated her love for him was. Raising their conjoined hands to her face level, she places a kiss to his hands, with George releasing a heavy breath at the intimate action. With a smile, she lets go of his hands, George whining at the loss of contact of her hands.
“I think you’ll like this more.” (y/n) laughs. Slowly, she brings up her hands to cup his face, George immediately melting into her touch. With his head leaning towards one hand, he raises his hands to rub hers once more.
“You really like my hands, huh?” (y/n) remarks.
“They’re officially mine to hold. So, a short answer would be yes.” George smirks as (y/n) hums in content, feeling his stubble tickle the inside of her hands.
Grasping his face, (y/n) slowly tears her gaze away from his eyes to focus onto his lips, and for the first time, there’s a clear sign that he’s feeling the same. They both look at each other one last time, fully taken with one another, the space between them reducing by millimeters.
This is-
Finally capturing her lips, George shivers as (y/n) gasps into their kiss. Maybe he’s the heaven I’ve imagined. Perfection, (y/n) thought. After what seems to be minutes of giving into their desires, they pull back, chests heaving. George’s lips swollen, (y/n) can’t help but steal another kiss, earning a chuckle from George.
“I love you. You’re it for me. I- I love you” (y/n) repeats. George smiles for what seems to be the millionth time that day and says,
“I love you, (y/n). I- I am yours, and you’re mine.” George gushes. Going in for the third, but not final time, they embrace and kiss sweet nothings into their lips, each as a promise to love each other with no holding back.
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amor-immortalem · 3 years
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Can I Stay Up Here With You Forever Ch.2
Warning: abuse apologizing, mention of past physical abuse, implied manipulation, abuse minimizing
Taglist: @mediocredetective
Previous
“Here you go Solomon,” Asmo says as they pass the phone to the sorcerer. “Arella says she wants to ask you something. I’ll be back.” And with that the Avatar of Lust took his leave, leaving their older brother with a look of confusion as Solomon moved away from where he literally had the second-born tied down so he couldn’t move. He turned his lapis gaze over to his younger brother who merely shrugged as he went back to chowing down on a bag of crisps he had raided from Purgatory Hall’s pantry.
“Don’t ask me, I don’t know anything,” Beel said with a mouthful of crisps. “I’m going to head home too though. Dinner’s starting soon. Do you want me to try to save you some? It’s Lucifer’s night to cook.”
“Nah... it’ll just go to waste. Lucifer’s still probably mad at me so I doubt he’ll let me inta the house for the rest of the night.” The Avatar of Greed chuckles sadly. “So don’t worry. I’ll see ya tomorrow!”
The Avatar of Gluttony nodded as he left and Mammon impatiently waited for Solomon to come back.
“I’d offer you something to eat or drink but it looks like you’re... a little tied up at the moment.” Simeon tried to break the tension in the room with the unhappy demon.
“Why did ya have ta go ‘n call Arella like that, huh, Simeon?” Mammon asks, eyebrows knit together in frustration. “I told y’all I was fine, my arm was just a bit busted was all. I woulda survived without her knowin’ ‘n now she’s gonna go off the deep end thinkin’ I need ta be saved or some shit like that when I can take care of myself.”
“She loves you, Mammon. All she wants is for you to be happy and safe. You know that.”
“All of ya are makin’ it sound like Lucifer just straight up broke my elbow for shits ‘n giggles when it was an accident. I’m the one who didn’t wait for him ta let go a me before I started pullin’ ta get away, so really it’s my own fault that it’s broken.”
“Yeah, but things like this seem to happen between you and Lucifer a lot- and I mean a lot a lot.”
“Yeah but... he loves me though. He only does things like this because he loves me. I’m his favorite and he just wants me to learn my lesson is all. If I wouldn’t screw up all the time this wouldn’t happen as often- o-or at all even. ‘Sides it ain’t like I’m the only one who ever gets punished. The rest of my brothers all get their punishments too when they screw up. It’s all fair.”
Simeon gave the demon a doubtful look. “You seem to be the only one who gets any physical punishment though...”
“Yeah, but that’s only cuz I’m a blockhead who just doesn’t learn his lesson. I mean the physical stuff only started within the last century- that's when my dear ol’ brother got fed up with wastin’ his breath. You’d think I’d learn by now huh?”
The angel tries to find the words to say what he’s thinking but he can’t, so he just goes about it in a different approach. No wonder Arella worries about him like this. His brother has him completely manipulated into thinking this is acceptable.
“You... you can’t seriously think that, right?” Simeon asks incredulously. “Mammon, this isn’t okay. Regardless of whether your brother actually loves you or not,
“He does,” Mammon interjects.
“He shouldn’t constantly be putting his hands on you for even the slightest of transgressions- especially if it’s due to something you can’t help, like your sin.”
“Of course, it is. C’mon, Simeon, who’re ya kidding? We’re demons! Our morals are different from those of the Celestial Realm or the Human Realm.... That’s just the way things are down here. Do ya gotta like it? No, but y’all gotta accept it.”
“Don’t you think you sound a little... how do I put this... brainwashed?”
“Whaddya mean?”
“Well... I just think maybe you’re so blinded by your love for your brothers that-”
“Hi! I’m back!” Asmo called as they lugged a heavy suitcase behind them. They plopped down on the couch. “Miss me?”
The pair just sort of regarded the strawberry blonde-haired demon as they sat next to their older brother.
“Goin’ somewhere, Asmo?” Mammon asks as he eyes the suitcase, “Wait a minute is that my suitcase?”
“Hm? Oh no, I’m not going anywhere. You are.”
“Huh? I’m not going anywh-”
“Well it was nice talking to you, Arella. I’ll untie him now so you can summon him. We’ll talk in a few weeks, yes?” Solomon promptly reentered the space, “Perfect- oh look Asmo’s back too. I’ll let you go then.” The call ended as Solomon undid the spell binding Mammon to the couch with a wave of his hand.
As Mammon stood, a portal opened up in front of him. “I’m not goin’ through that.”
“And why not?” the angel asks. “I thought you’d be delighted to have the opportunity to go stay with your human for two weeks.”
“Alone. Might I add.” Asmo smirks with a waggle of their brows.
“Shut up, Asmo!” The Avatar of Greed turned a shade of bright red, “Of course, I know we’d be alone! Who else would be there? But....”
“Are you scared Lucifer will be upset that you’re up there without his permission, Mammon?” Simeon asks.
“No! I ain’t scared of Lucifer! What gave you that idea, huh?!”
“You do realize you’re being summoned right? You don’t get much of a choice in that matter. Now, get going before you end up getting pulled through and hurt your arm again.” The sorcerer takes Mammon’s suitcase and tosses it through the portal, leaving the demon to squawk indignantly as he chased after it.
“You suck, Solomon!” Is all that could be heard from the other side of the portal as it started to close and the silver-haired human only rolled his eyes, chuckling amusedly.
“Have fun in the mortal realm, Mammon!”
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The one thing Mammon hates about being summoned is how nearly every time he goes through a portal, he nearly slams into whoever it is that summoned him if they’re standing in his way which is exactly the situation he finds himself in with Arella right now- not a good look for his image, it's very ‘uncool’.
“Hey,” Arella smiles as she wraps her arms around him once they come to a stop.
“Don’t ‘hey’ me. I’m mad at ya.” The demon says with a deep scowl on his face.
“I’m sure you are. How’s your arm feeling? Does it still hurt?”
“I’m fine, Arella. Stop treating me like a kid.”
“Huh?” Arella asks, confused as she removes her arm from around him. “I’m... sorry?”
“Ya should be,” Mammon hums as he turns his back to her. “I told ya everything was fine. Ya didn’t hafta go ‘n do all this. I can take care of myself when it comes to my brothers so I don’t get why you think ya gotta get involved every time I get in a situation with one of ‘em.”
“I just thought... well I guess it doesn’t matter. You’re right.” She walked away headed to where the kitchen was to clean up the mess that had been left from the cup of tea she’d had before all of this.
“Huh? Whaddya mean by that?” The demon followed after her looking to continue their small spat.
“Exactly what it sounds like. You’re right. You can take care of yourself when it comes to your brothers and there really is no need for me to insert myself into the situation but I love you and I hate seeing it happen and not doing anything to defend you so... I’m sorry. If it offends you that much, I won’t do it again.” She says as she washes her cup and the other dishes she had left. “Do you want me to send you home after dinner?”
“I.... no- but not because I don’t want to go back and deal with Lucifer...” The white-haired demon takes a seat at the kitchen island resting his chin on his arms. “I only wanna stay cuz I missed ya...”
“I missed you too...” She rubbed his back as she leaned down to place a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m sorry you feel like I’m treating you like a kid... if you want to stay the whole time you can treat it... like a holiday of sorts.”
“Where are we anyway? I know ya said ya were sellin’ yer old house...but the air smells different. How far away did ya move? Are we still in England?”
“About that...” She looked away sheepishly, “I kind of told you a little white lie... I sold that house about a month or two ago. What I’ve been doing since then is house-hunting and all the things that go with buying a house in another country... We’re in Germany- Berlin, exactly.”
“You lied? Oh, you’re horrible.” The demon feigns a look of hurt as the human laughs. “But seriously, baby, why would ya move so far away?”
She shrugged. “Wanted a change. I can speak German so why not- it's not like I have any family to miss back in England, anyway.”
He nods at that. “So no one knows where we are?”
“Nope,”
“Not even my brothers?”
“Not even your brothers.” She smiled. “I told you: if we wanted to, we could disappear up here and no one would ever know.” She cupped his face in between her hands. “You don’t have to go back home if you don’t want to...”
“I don’t have to decide right now, do I? You won’t leave if I want to go home, right?”
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t ask you to choose between me or the Devildom- there's a lot to give up down there. You can think about it while we’re up here for the next two or three weeks and if you want to go home after then, then I will still be with you, okay? I just want to give you options.”
He nodded as he moved to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug. “Thanks, Doll.”
“Anytime, Baby.” She hummed.
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Simply Meant To Be (pt 1)
An expansion on this soulmate blurb (no Virgil in this one though)
[part 2]
Rating: teen
Word Count: 2130
Pairings: Roceit, Intrulogical
Warnings: minor swearing
~~~START~~~
Roman is a romantic, that’s just a fact. He loves love. Any day he gets to watch two soulmates meet each other is automatically a good day. The second best day of his life was getting to watch Remus meet their soulmate when they were sixteen. The best day of his life is reserved for when he meets his own soulmate. 
It hasn’t happened yet, but it will. One day. 
For now, Roman is content with being colorblind (well not content, but he’s learned to not let it bother him too much). Remus and Logan are actually a huge help with that. Logan has even gone as far as to make a list of all of Roman’s clothing and includes a chart of what pieces do and do not go together based on Remus’ (admittedly professional) opinions, and Remus actually went through and labeled all of Roman’s makeup with what color it is and what kind of look it should go with. 
Anyone who vaguely knew the twins might think that Remus would use this opportunity to mess with Roman, but Remus knows how much Roman hates being colorblind; they would never lie to Roman about colors — about other things? Sure, but not colors. 
Remus and Logan met when Logan moved to their school from Georgia. One day Remus had claimed that there was a trail of color — they would later learn that it was navy blue, Logan’s soon-to-be favorite color — leading from the parking lot, to the main office, to the east wing. They’d chosen to skip first period in order to follow it, having never seen the trail before, and Roman, being unwilling to miss the opportunity to watch his brother meet their soulmate, followed him. Remus had walked right into a physics classroom, and straight for a boy with short curls and thick glasses that Roman had never seen before and declared him their soulmate. 
Roman got detention for skipping first period, Remus got a pass on account of meeting their soulmate. 
Most people met their soulmates before they turned twenty-five, after all, how difficult can it be when all you have to do is find the trail of color they leave behind them everywhere they go and follow it?
Well, as Roman has learned in his thirty-five years of being alive, it can be pretty freaking difficult. 
As children, Roman and Remus had wandered their town far and wide looking for colorful trails, and even after they met Logan, Remus continued to go with Roman as he searched, even if they couldn’t see Roman’s soulmate’s trail themself. As soon as Roman graduated from high school, he took the customary gap year that most everybody who hadn’t met their soulmates yet takes to search for their soulmates. 
He never caught a glimpse of anything. 
“What if I missed them somehow? What if I saw their trail and just didn’t realize it?” Roman whines one day at his usual Saturday brunch — because they’re adults goddammit — with Remus and Logan. 
“You wouldn’t have missed them, Ro bro,” Remus assures him as they do every time Roman starts lamenting about having not met his soulmate yet. “Colors are so unmistakable that there’s no way you’ll miss them.”
“And even if you are genetically colorblind — which is unlikely considering Remus is not,” Logan continues before Roman has a chance to respond. “I have read multiple papers that state that soultrails will still make themselves distinct. There are multiple accounts of the trails emitting light, absorbing light, or even emitting sound. All of that is, of course, on top of the translucent cloud that follows your soulmate’s every move. I find it improbable that you, of all people, would not have noticed a soultrail.”
“Yeah, I know you guys are right,” Roman sighs. “I just want to meet them! I’ve travelled all over the place looking for them, where are they?”
Remus says nothing, which Roman is grateful for because Remus has a habit of saying dark jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood, and Roman really doesn’t need to hear them suggest that his soulmate died in a car crash or something right now. Besides, the question is rhetorical. If Remus could see Roman’s soulmate’s trail, then he’s sure they would have spent the last nineteen years looking for them too. 
“Sorry, I guess I brought the mood down,” Roman apologizes. “How are you guys?”
Remus opens their mouth.  
“The PG version, please!” Roman rushes to say before Remus can mentally scar him. Again. 
Remus closes their mouth again. 
Logan rolls his eyes fondly and proceeds to get Roman up to date on all the high school gossip. 
“- and of course the middle school’s robotics instructor left suddenly to follow her soulmate to England, so I have taken over as their advisor until a suitable replacement can be hired.”
“How is that?” Roman asks, cringing at the thought of having to deal with middle schoolers. Kids in general kind of freak him out, but middle schoolers especially. 
“It has been fine, they are not as adept as my high school students, but of course for many of them this is their introduction to such things, so I’m trying to be patient and supportive.”
Roman snorts at that. He’s sure Logan is a good teacher, but his brother-in-law can be a bit short tempered, and has a habit of talking down to people who don’t understand what he’s trying to tell them. 
“Don’t laugh at him!” Remus jumps in to defend their soulmate. “Logan’s great with kids, it’s adults he has a problem with.”
“They are much too old to be as ignorant as they are,” Logan defends himself resolutely. 
“Of course they are, Sugar Butt.” Logan cringes slightly at the pet name, which is really all Remus is ever looking for with their pet names. 
“Anyway,” Logan says, somewhat forcefully. “There is one student who seems to know what he is doing, but he doubts himself at every turn. I have tried telling him that he is doing everything correctly, but he is… reluctant to trust himself.”
“Maybe as the year goes on he’ll gain confidence,” Remus suggests. Logan hums in acknowledgment, and Roman takes that as the end of talking about Logan’s students. “Oh! Ro bro! Did you hear the theater got a new makeup artist?”
“Finally!” Roman groans, thinking back on their last makeup artist. “I swear Lisa was trying to poke my eyes out every time she did my eyeliner!”
“Oh she probably was,” Remus comments offhandedly. “I told her — back when she first started with the theater — that you thought that makeup artisting was a waste of time.”
“WHAT!?” Roman screeches, gaining the attention of the staff and other patrons. 
“Roman,” Logan warns, growing uncomfortable under the curious stares. 
“How could you do that to me?” Roman hisses at a much quieter volume. “I never said that! She hated me for five years because of you!”
Remus shrugs, slurping the end of their drink through their straw loudly. 
“You better not make the new artist hate me!”
“I would never!” Remus gasps, clutching their heart dramatically. 
Roman glares. 
“Cross my heart!” Remus insists with a much too innocent expression. 
“I hate you.”
Remus just gasps again before dissolving into uncontrollable giggles. 
 ~~~
There isn’t rehearsal on Sunday, so Roman doesn’t have to go in to work. Unfortunately, he is saddled by the knowledge that Remus — as the theater’s costume designer — does have to go in today, and therefore has a whole day to lie to the new makeup artist about him. 
Come Monday, all Roman can do is hope that Remus hasn’t done irreparable damage. 
“Calm down,” Remus orders when they come to pick Roman up. “They weren’t even in yesterday; I haven’t met them yet.”
“I’m not letting you ruin my relationship with the makeup artist again,” Roman pouts. 
“Just try and stop me!” Remus cackles. 
Once they reach the theater, Roman practically jumps from the car before Remus has even parked. 
“REAL MATURE!” Remus yells after him as he sprints for the theater door. 
“THIS ONE IS GOING TO LIKE ME!” Roman yells back. 
“NOT IF I MEET THEM FIRST!”
Roman skids to a stop as soon as he reaches the lobby. Not expecting their twin to just be standing there, Remus slams into his back, throwing them both to the ground. 
“The fuck, Ro Bro?” Remus demands as they flop off their brother and onto their back. 
“I-I see it,” Roman whispers, voice filled with wonder. 
“See what?” Remus demands. “The lobby? You’ve seen the lobby bef-oh!”
The awestruck look on Roman’s face finally clicks, and Remus bounces excitedly. 
“You see it? Like it it?” Remus scrambles to their feet, dragging Roman up with them. “Where? Which way does it go?”
“It looks like how the sun feels,” Roman says instead of answering. “All light and warm and good.”
“Roman Kingsley you tell me which way your soulmate went this instant!” Remus demands loudly. This is important dammit!
“It goes from there,” Roman points to the side door that’s usually used by staff that take the bus to work. “To there,” the door leading backstage. 
“Excellent!” Remus cheers dragging Roman forward. “Time for your date with destiny!”
Remus throws the backstage door open dramatically, but Roman groans as he realizes that his soulmate’s trail is going in literally every direction, making it impossible to know which way they went last. 
“Well?” Remus asks expectantly. 
“Either my soulmate is familiarizing themself to the theater, or they knew I’d be here and are trying to spite me,” Roman answers somewhat dejectedly. “I can’t tell which trail is freshest.”
“Well shit.” Remus scans each entry as though Roman’s soulmate will just happen to wander in (plausible, considering they’ve trailed all over the theater). 
“Hey guys!” A voice calls from by the dressing rooms. The brothers turn to find Thomas, the owner of the theater and their boss. 
“Thomas!” Remus cries gleefully. “My absolute favoritest person in the world behind my incredibly sexy soulmate!”
“Okay, so you want something,” Thomas answers with an amused grin. Remus always piles on the compliments when they want something.
“Who’s new today?” Roman asks, more to the point. 
“Like, in the theater?” Thomas asks. “Just Janus, the new makeup artist. Why?” Thomas’s eyes widen as if he’s just had a realization. “You’re not going to prank him or something, are you? He’s very talented, I can’t have you scaring him away already!”
“Roman’s soulmate is the new makeup artist? Lame,” Remus pouts. “How am I supposed to trick him into hating Roman?”
“Soulmate?”
“My soulmate is in the building, Thomas!” Roman declares, striking a dashing pose before deflating a little. “Except his trail leads all over the place, I don’t know where he went!”
“Oh… well,” Thomas looks to each direction Janus could have gone, but he clearly doesn’t know which way Janus would have gone. “He said he wanted to get a lay of the land before everyone got here…”
“I got this!” Remus pipes up suddenly before cupping their hands around their mouth like a megaphone and screaming at the top of their lungs. “JANUS!”
“What?” A faint, far-off voice calls back, followed but the sound of hurried footsteps. “Thomas?”
“Dressing rooms!” Thomas calls back. 
Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and all too soon a man appears on them. 
The first time you lay eyes on your soulmate, you begin to see the world in color. Everyone’s experience is different: Remus said that as soon as he laid eyes on Logan, the world exploded violently into vibrant shades. Logan said that colors appeared one at time, quickly, but slow enough for him to notice. Roman’s mom said that her soulmate’s trail swelled to fill the space before things slowly began to take on their proper color, and his mama said that it was almost like everything had always had color, she just hadn’t bothered to notice before. 
For Roman, the man before him is painted in vibrant shades while the background remains in grayscale, but as soon as the man makes eye contact, his colors begin to slowly bleed throughout the space. 
The man’s eyes widen as he stares, slack-jawed at Roman — no doubt mirroring Roman’s own expression. 
“I’m Roman,” Roman says quickly, before Remus can forever ruin his first meeting with his soulmate by making a dick joke or something. 
The man smiles and Roman immediately decides that his favorite color is whatever this guy’s eyes are — they’re hazel, but Roman will later change his favorite color to red after realizing how stunning and bold the color is when it isn’t just another shade of gray. 
“Janus.”
~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~
General Taglist:
@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly
@pixelated-pineapple
235 notes · View notes
kiyoomeii · 3 years
Text
strawberry shortcake / f!reader x l lawliet / wc: 1.5k
lake scene, knee deep in the stars / this simple season is all ours, yeah / “simple season” by hippo campus
a/n: for the past four days i’ve only been thinking about soft!l lawliet and how much i want to lay in his lap someone pls pay my bail from simp jail  also! ayy first one shot ig??
cw: the use of the word ‘shit’ three times, kissing, very self indulgent, no editing just grammarly lol
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Today will be one of the few times you two have gone out together since L is meticulous about keeping his identity private, and you’re grateful for the change of scenery. Instead of being cooped up in his hotel of the week, you’re out wandering a botanical garden in Tokyo. Of course, Watari made all the arrangements for the park to be conveniently closed to the public that day, but still, it’s the thought that counts.
In your left hand is a wicker basket filled with food, and your right pinky looped around L’s left pinky. As you walk through the garden, the fresh smell of flowers fills your noses and the sunshine filters through the cumulus clouds, causing droplets of sweat to collect on your back.
With anyone else, such extended periods of silence would be uncomfortable, but with L, it feels like home.
You feel a tug of resistance on your pinky and turn back to see L engrossed in a flowering tree. “What’s that?” You join him in inspecting the tree, clutching his dangling arm tight to yours and resting your head on his hunched shoulders.
“It’s a Magnolia Stellata, or Star Magnolia. I’m surprised they’re still in bloom right now.” L makes no effort to explain himself, instead opting to put a finger to his lip.
“Because…?” With your head still on his shoulder, you look up at him expectantly. He often makes statements like that without explaining himself since he assumes that everyone else knows what he’s talking about. It used to bother you when you first met, but you’ve learned that it’s just because his mind is moving a hundred miles a minute. Now, you just ask him to elaborate, and it surprisingly doesn’t bother him. When other people ask him questions that he thinks are blatantly obvious, he grows annoyed but masks it in his voice by scrunching the toes of his left foot. But with you, he never does that. Instead, he’s patient and kind. You can see it in his eyes.
“Because they are particularly susceptible to frost damage and we had a handful of very cold days this March,” he answers coolly. Where he stores this knowledge about flowers native to Tokyo despite him being from England, you will never know, but you’re thankful for the information regardless.
“Oh, I see. Thank you," you sigh. Together, you stand marveling at the light pink flowers and feeling the breeze on your backs, which causes L’s hair to sweep over your face. He quickly brushes it away for you with his free hand.
“And don’t worry, y/n, it’s not wilting; the petals are just wavy like that.” He gently tugs his arm away from you to signal that he’d like to move on, and once you release him, he takes your hand in his and leads you through the garden.
It has taken L a while to become comfortable with you enough to initiate contact first, but you’re glad that he can now. When you first began dating, things were uncomfortably stiff. You have the habit of word vomiting any time there’s too long of a pause, and L has a habit of withdrawing into his thoughts, so the first few months of dating was just a lot of you oversharing and him just listening.
You didn’t actually think he was paying attention until one day you mentioned how as a child you carried around a stuffed animal, which you affectionately named Ollie the Otter, and lost it on holiday in the US with your family. Within just three days, he bought you the exact same version of your beloved childhood stuffie. You had long since grown out of your stuffed animal phase but were touched nonetheless that he put in the effort to find you the toy, proving that he cares about you in his own way.
Ollie Jr. now sits on L's bed, always tucked under his comforter as if it’s sleeping. Sometimes, though, when L is up late at night doing work, he will wedge the otter between his knees that are pulled up to his chest and rest his chin on it so that he can smell the traces of your perfume on it. He would never admit to it, but you’ve silently watched him work many times before to know that it wasn’t just a one-time occasion.
“Would you like to stop here, y/n?” L gestures to a patch of manicured grass under the shade of a cherry blossom tree.
“Sure. Will you help me lay out the blanket?” You untangle your fingers from him to open the picnic basket you have been carrying. Truthfully, you were relieved that he wanted to stop because the basket had become increasingly heavier throughout your walk. L nods and waits for you to give him an edge of the beige checkered linen blanket so that you can place it down on the grass. As soon as it’s laid out, L splays himself out on it and watches you unpack the food.
His mouth is nearly frothing at the sweets that you place at the edge of the blanket. “I know, I brought your favorite: strawberry shortcake,” you pause to look back at him with his mouth slightly agape. “But you gotta wait until everything’s ready.” Suddenly aware of himself,  L obediently closes his mouth.
At last, you sit across from L with a plate for you to share. L’s eyes grow wide as he reaches for a piece of cake until you swat it away. “Hey,” you coo in a sing-songy voice, “not so fast….” You take the fork out of his hand and cut off a small piece of cake as you feel L’s jet black eyes intensely study your movements. Silently, you lift the fork up towards L’s mouth. “Open,” you say sweetly, waiting for him to comply, which he does quickly. With a smile, you gently feed the cake to L and watch as he closes his eyes in bliss.
One part of L is telling him to be alarmed at the obvious loss of control he’s experiencing, but the other is telling him to relax and allow you to take control of the situation. As he quickly calculates the outcomes of each choice, he realizes that you’ll probably get your way anyway and that it’s no use to object. “’S it good, L?” He opens his eyes to see you watching him intently and nods. “Good, I’m glad. Now gimme a bite, will you?” A sly smile spreads across your face as you pass the other fork to him and wait for him to give you a piece.
The two of you pass some time taking bites of cake, feeding each other strawberries, and talking about random things—from the way L doesn’t like the way the grass pokes his skin to how you’re excited to finally be done with university in a few weeks. Finally, you lie down beside him and situate your head on his chest while his lean fingers languidly massage your scalp. Your breathing quickly syncs together and your chests rise and fall like waves lapping the shore.
“I’m glad we got to go out today. Thank you, y/n.” L picks up your hand resting on your belly and gives it a quick kiss. L had been working on a particularly difficult case for the past few months, which had just wrapped up, so the two of you hadn’t been able to see each other much lately.
“You’re welcome,” you rolled over onto your stomach to face L. “And thank you too. I know how hard it is for you to go into public, but I’m glad to know that you’d do it for me.” You watch as a quick smile paints L’s face, and at that moment, you feel your heart bursting with affection towards him.
“Of course I would, y/n, and I’d do it again, too.” His normally ivory-colored face flushed with color, causing him to turn away from you out of embarrassment.
“L?” He senses you staring at him and slowly meets your gaze again.
“Yes?” His onyx eyes catch yours.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” he replies, not skipping a beat. You smile as you pepper a few kisses on his jawline towards his lips and when finally your lips meet, he presses into you more firmly than you expected. His technique is a little sloppy, but you know he’s trying. When he’s like this, trying to show you his affection instead of explaining it, he’s like a puppy who wants your attention, and who are you to refuse?
“L, I—" you say in between passionate kisses, “love you.” He immediately pulls away from you to study your facial expression. Oh shit oh shit oh shit maybe this wasn’t a good time I shouldn’t have—
“I love you, too.” He responds quickly, pulling you into another series of needy kisses.
With the whole park empty, you don’t have to hide your affection for each other, and oh, how you wish it could be like this all the time.
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falloutjay · 3 years
Note
Christophe x childhood friend reader x Kenny, Christophe, Gregory and reader have been friends since gradeschool. Reader was a very emotional person who cared about everyone. She was very sweet yet still helped the boys assassinating people. Reader had always had an obvious crush on Christophe but she never seems get to an direct answer and it really starts to bum her out. So she starts trying to stop showing her feelings to him. It worries people because she starts being more quieter than her normal self. When asked, all she can say ' I just realized that there's something I could never have' and nothing else. It's until reader's parents (who are bakers) get a job opportunity in a town named South Park. It's a very awkward goodbye (with Christophe, it's sad af with Gregory) and she leaves.
As if a switch was pulled, reader goes back to being a sweet and emotional girl (much to her parents delight/relief). We makes lot of new friends and gets a new crush too, Kenny McCormick. She's shy around him at first, much to her friends: Bebe, Wendy, and Nicole's confusion. She confides in them and tells her past troubles with love. They comfort her and tell that it's sure to be different. So reader lightens up around Kenny and they begin a beautiful relationship.
Yet we hit a rough patch when Kenny's womanizing way Catches up with him (Kelly, Tammy, etc) so we naturally get defensive (not to how we were with Christophe but still pretty strained). But worry not, reader (and her friends) win their class a trip to London (they sold 7,777 cookies!!!). Reader is nervous but doesn't stress to hard, it's not like Christophe is still leaving there right? Well after settling into their hotel, Reader and Gregory run into each other and have a heartfelt reunion then reader reunites with Christophe and it's really awkward. So Gregory and Christophe decide to join them on their trip, but something wrong. Christophe seems a lot more open with reader, which confuses reader and Kenny, having connected the dots, tries keeping reader for himself. And poor reader's in a blushy confusing emotional spiral.
I had such a blast writing this. Writing Christophe is mad fun.
Btw, I implied that the events of the movie never happened here, so Wendy and the others never met Gregory or Christophe.
Kenny and Christophe are also pretty mean girls basically but I loved it so much, I couldn't help myself. ^^
(EXCUSE MY BAD FRENCH; IT HAS BEEN YEARS SINCE MY LAST FRENCH LESSONS AND I WAS PRETTY BAD AT IT)
Warnings: Kenny and Christophe are a little OOC I think, swearing, French, Bad French.
____________________________
Christophe x Childhood friend!Reader x Kenny
You hummed as you waited for your best friends in the whole wide world. You had prepared a nice little lunch with self-made sandwiches, lemonade, and brownies.
Your excitement went through the roof, once you heard the door to your secret hideout open. Gregory was the first to come in. “Ah, Y/N, what a lovely surprise!” He said gleamingly and admired the beautifully set table. He put down his backpack and as he did so, your longtime crush strolled in. Cigarette in mouth, dirty all over him and an annoyed expression painted on his face, Christophe.
“Hey, how was the job?” You asked sweetly, as Gregory sat down, and Christophe did so too after a short hesitation. “It went well unti-” “Until zat fucking dumb kid made the wrong zound and made me mess up the whole time plan. Why does no one know what a dying giraffe sounds like?” He ranted, hands moving around hastily, while you and Gregory chuckled. “It’s not funny!” The dark-haired protested while he lit his cigarette. You just smiled.
Despite Christophe’s mean demeanor, you had a huge soft spot for him. “Hey, Christophe?” You asked, demanding his attention, which he gave you, while also taking a bite of a sandwich. “Would you maybe like to hang out sometime?” Gregory pretended to not exist and focused on the suddenly very interesting drink in his hand. He knew you liked their friend. But he also knew Christophe better than anyone else. And the blond knew this couldn’t end well.
“Ah, excuse moi, mais…I just don’t have the time currently.” You nodded, trying your best to not show how disappointed you were. It pained Gregory to see you like this. He loved you like a sister and seeing how Christophe was constantly breaking your little heart made him sad.
To his demise, you only grew quieter with time. When Gregory pressed you on the matter, asking what’s wrong, all you managed to mumble was: “I guess… I just realized that there's something I could never have”. It made him worry. You were such a sweet girl but recently you had become a husk of yourself and today was no different.
They had just come back from another job but this time you didn’t even greet them, just passed the folders in which you listed the new jobs they could take. “Here. I am afraid I have some bad news though.” You mumbled as you pressed the papers in their hands. Gregory looked at you with worry on his face. “What’s wrong, dear?” He asked and noticed how close you were to crying.
“My parents got a really good job over in Colorado. We will move next week.” You mumbled. Gregory threw the papers across the room, before storming to hug you. You held him close, feeling sad, that you would never again drink tea with your favorite English gentleman, and that deeply saddened you.
Your eyes wandered over to Christophe, who looked somewhat sad but made no move to express this. “I can't believe it. You’re THE most important part of this organization and you will be gone by next week?! Who is gonna help me with all the papers?” Gregory held you so close, you almost had trouble breathing.
“I gotta go early today since I have to start packing. I will miss you two so much.” You said, not being able to stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. “Yeah, sure, take your time. If you need any help, you know you can always count on me.” Gregory said, finally letting go of you. You nodded and walked up to Christophe.
“I guess that’s it huh?” You muttered. “Oui. You will be a great loss to zis organization.” Awkwardly you nodded. Was this really everything he had to say? You didn’t see Gregory in the background, wildly gesticulating for him to say more. The dark-haired raised an eyebrow until he finally got what his partner tried to say.
“We will miss you.” He thought this was a perfectly fine answer, but didn’t catch how much that hurt you. “Yeah, me you too.” You said and walked towards the exit. “See you guys!” You called out before you vanished.
“Great job making her feel like shit.” “What waz I supposed to say?”
“My God, Y/N, you have been here for over half a year now! Just tell him already!” Bebe commented and you blushed profusely. “N-no! He doesn’t even like me that much!” You protested, your cheeks colored in a deep red. “There is no point in denying sweetheart. You both are head over heels for each other. Trust me, Stan told me how much Kenny talks about you.” Wendy reassured you. She pointed with her fork over to the table the boys were seated on and sure enough, the blond boy you were talking about was looking over, waving even when he spotted you looking at him. You shyly waved back, before hiding in your sweater.
“Okay, Y/N, what the fuck happened when you lived in England? I can’t imagine you always behave like this around someone you like.” Nicole looked sternly at you, and you let out a deep sigh. “Well, fine, yeah, there was a guy before Kenny that I liked.”
The girls all pushed their food trays to the side, to stick their heads closer together. “In England, I was close friends with two guys.” “Ohh, a three-way?” “Bebe!” Wendy hissed before they let you continue. “They are assassins and I helped them with everything behind the scenes, like contacting clients, paperwork, and all that. Gregory was my best friend, and the other guy is a French, god-hating, foul-mouthed idiot named Christophe. And I really had a thing for him, but he was always super cold and just not that interested in me.” You rambled and the girls listened attentively. “Okay, okay, Y/N, hear me out on this one…” Bebe began, and you looked at her. “Have you maybe thought about the fact that that Christophe guy was just an idiot? You’re great and Kenny sooo has a thing for you. Just go for it!” Nicole and Wendy nodded. “Yeah, you gotta make new experiences, real experiences.” Nicole agreed and Wendy gave it a thumbs up.
Before they could talk any further, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around. Kenny stood there, smiling warmly. “Hey, Y/n, I just wanted to ask if you maybe wanna go to the mall with me on Saturday and maybe get a smoothie or something?” You felt your face heat up and heard the girls squeal quietly. You nodded. “Yeah, that would great!” You answered and he shot you a flashy smile. “Great. I’ll come to pick you up, yeah?” You nodded excitingly and he walked back to the boy’s table. “Ahh, you got a date!” Nicole beamed and so did the other two. A big smile was glued to your face, and you only managed to nod. “We will so come over on Friday and get you ready! Girls’ night!” Bebe planed and you happily agreed.
Being with Kenny was great. He was loving, always looked out for you, loved listening to you, and yet, you hated his guts just now. You wanted to strangle those stupid sluts that constantly clung to his side like their life depended on it. Yeah, you knew Tammy and he had history, as did Kelly, but did he really have to talk to them that much? Didn’t he see how much you hated it? “Hey, babe!” He whispered into your ear, and you moved away. “Hey, Kenny.” You said coldly. You waited for Mister Garrison to finally let you in the hotel. You and the girls managed to win the school competition for a trip to London, by selling 7,777 packages of cookies, totally legally, by the way, nothing to see here, so now your class was in London and after you sat with the girls in the bus Kenny had sneaked up to you. You were kind of nervous, fearing that you could maybe run into…him… but there was no chance he still lives here, right? Right?
You didn’t know why, but since Kenny had started to talk to his bitches, as you called them, again you distanced yourself from him. You were afraid of being hurt again, so distancing yourself was an automatic reaction.
Once you got settled in your room, the girls proposed discovering the town, since you guys had no events for the day. You happily greed and once in the corridor, you spotted Stans gang down the hall. Wendy asked them to join, much to your demise. You wanted girl time, not being secretly annoyed with Kenny time.
You, Wendy, Bebe, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny wandered the streets, taking in the new scenery. “It’s pretty nice here, isn’t it?” Wendy asked as she put the sweets she bought in her bag. “Yeah!” You agreed and sipped on the tea you ordered.
You guys had sat down at a café to just watch the bussing streets and enjoy some British tea. Kyle was talking to Stan about Cartman, and what prank they’d play on him tonight. Kenny was chatting with Bebe and Wendy about Tammy and Kelly, much to your demise and you just looked around. Your eyes wandered and you watched the other patrons when you stopped at a familiar seeming one. Your mouth was agape, there’s no way your eyes weren’t tricking you right now?!
The in leather gloved hands, the orange button-up shirt, that thick golden hair… A book rested in his left hand, while the other held the tea with an extended pinky. It was him. Gregory. He must have noticed you staring as he looked up and recognized you as well. A big smile appeared on his face, and he quickly put the book in his leather messenger bag. You got up, ignoring the questions from the others, while you ran into Gregory’s extended arms.
“Y/N my dear! I would have never guessed to see you again!” Gregory proclaimed, spinning you around. Neither of you cared that everyone was watching. “I’m so happy to see you. It has been ages!” You mumbled, still hugging your long-lost friend tightly. You only lost contact because you lost your phone during the move, so you had no way of contacting them. Before you two could talk, Kenny appeared by your side.
“Hey, babe, who is this guy?” He asked and as you turned around you saw the questioning looks of everyone. “Oh sorry. Guys, this is my old friend Gregory, we have been friends since we were little. Gregory, these are my friends from America, Wendy, Bebe, Kyle, Stan, and my boyfriend Kenny.”
Gregory properly introduced himself and moved to sit with you guys. He talked with your new friends, and you immediately saw how Wendy and Bebe hung to his lips. You understood that. Gregory was a really good-looking young man by now. You chuckled when you spotted how jealous Stan became with each passing second. Soon Gregory’s phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call.
“Oh my god! That’s the Gregory, you told us about, Y/N? Why did you hide that he’s a British snack!” Bebe exclaimed and you chuckled. Soon Gregory sat back down and that devious smile on his lips made you wonder.
“Ze Mole is coming.” He just said, knowing you wanted to question his smile. You felt the blood in your veins freeze for a second.
“He is still here?” You asked and Gregory nodded. “Why wouldn’t he? We kept the organization running. And there is always a spot for you if you ever want to come back.” The blond spotted the longing in your eyes at an instant. Kenny watched it happening quietly, carefully watching you. Soon enough, a certain someone arrived, pulling another chair to your table, and sitting on it backward, so that he was leaning on the backrest.
Your heart was beating like you had just run a marathon as you inspected every detail about him. His dark messy hair was roughly still the same and his trademark cigarette his only accessory. The tight-fitting dark green shirt fit him perfectly you thought and the tactical belt around his torso was still there. He also still wore fingerless gloves. The two really didn’t change much, apart from becoming older.
“Well, Christophe, these are Y/Ns friends from America.” Gregory introduced them and the dark-haired male lazily gifted him a wave. Wendy and Bebe noticed how you were obviously checking him out and laughed.
“I see you got a thing for baddies.” Bebe whispered into your ear, and you wanted to protest, but got interrupted by Stan.
“Well, I like this sort of reunion, but don’t wanna want to continue or sightseeing?” Gregory smiled warmly, as he offered to play tour guide for you. Your friends happily agreed to his proposition, feeling glad to have a real British tour guide. So, you guys paid for your orders and started walking.
To your surprise, instead of walking up front with Gregory, Christophe walked next to you, eyeing you curiously. “It’s nice to ze you again, mon chéri.” He said you felt your face heat up. Did he seriously just call you that? Did he actually say he’s happy to see you again?
“Well, it has been a while, hasn’t it?” You mumbled and Christophe had a pleasant smile resting on his face. That was a new thing, you thought. While Christophe walked next to you on your right, Kenny was on your left and eyeing the French with jealous eyes. He was an expert at reading people and he spotted Christophe’s attraction to HIS girlfriend miles go and he wasn’t blind to your body language either. You two had history. That much was clear.
Gregory led the group down to a nice spot near the riverbanks of the Thames where the girls took pictures together. Kyle and Gregory switched taking the group photos, while Kenny stood next to Christophe, both looking at the others.
Everyone felt the obvious tension between the two. “Don’t even think about, frog eater.” Kenny said, which made Christophe chuckle.
“Ahh, you Américains are so funny. You think everything belongs to you, when in reality she was already mine, once I sat down at ze table.” Christophe took the last puff of his cigarette, before stomping on it on the ground. Kenny averted his gaze and looked at his newfound rival.
“Yours?” He questioned but didn’t Christoph didn’t reward him with an answer. He only chuckled and put a new unlit cigarette in his mouth.
“Écoutez-Vous. You sound so funny.” The girl the two were fighting about returned with Bebe and Wendy and they all obviously felt the tension between the two.
“Ken, come over. Group pics!” Kyle called out to him and somewhat annoyed, Kenny jogged over. So you and your two friends were left with the French man.
“I just wanted to say, you look formidable, ma briquette.” Wendy and Bebe quietly squealed, as Christoph took your hand to press a kiss on your knuckles. You blushed a deep red. What had happened to him? He never behaved like that, but you couldn’t deny how he made your knees weak.
“Hey, Hey, Hey!” Kenny called out and quickly came stomping back. “I just told you to back off.” Kenny said. “Ah sorry, my English is pretty bad, I must have misunderstood.” Christophe shrugged. Kenny wrapped his arms around you and held you close.
“I’ll fuck you up if you don’t keep yourself in check.” Kenny spat and you broke free of his forced hug. “Ken, what the hell?” You questioned his sudden aggression, but you were quickly shoved away by Christophe, who now got all up in Kenny’s face.
“Oh, zen pray to whatever hate-filled God you believe in, and I hope for you he’z real because nothing will be as real as your fucked up face once I am done.” “Oh, I don’t believe in Gods. Not when I already know what hell looks like and so will you when I get started.”There was no point in denying that you, Wendy, and Bebe were super interested in this showdown. It was interesting to see two guys who were obviously fighting over you get so riled up.
Bebe leaned over and whispered: “Damn Y/N, you really got the hot guys fighting over you.” You had a faint pink tone on your cheeks. The two guys you liked were ready to basically kill each other over you. It was kind of flattering. Stan and Kyle tried getting the two to calm down, but to no avail, as they just kept going with their petty insults.
Gregory walked up next to you, leaning down to talk. “You are the only one who can get them to stop, you know that right?” He questioned.
“Yeah. But you must admit, this is kinda entertaining.” He laughed and nodded. “You’re right.” “Give me a minute Gregory. I never had someone fight for me.” You whispered with a hot face, watching as Kyle and Stan tried to pull the two away from each other.
Your heart was confused, seeing Christophe again and how he now behaved towards you awakened feelings you thought weren’t there anymore, but you also loved how Kenny was ready to fight for you. How could anyone not find this super interesting?
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givemeweasley · 3 years
Text
First Things First pt. 1
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Fred Weasley x Reader
Word count: 8k
Warnings: Fluff, hella slow burn (there is no romance in this first part, the next part will definitely have it though)
A/N: This is the second fic I have! I’m super excited for you to read! I’m also taking requests! Also I haven’t seen the movies so everything in this series is completely based off the books. I did a lot of research for this to make sure it was as perfect as possible so give it a like and let me know what you think :)
First Things First pt. 2, First Things First pt. 3
-----
You remembered the first day you met him.
It was unnaturally cold outside. The English air was chill and unforgiving, something you weren’t used to. Your parents had moved you halfway across the world because they believed Ilvermorny was no longer the best wizarding education. Your grandmother went to Hogwarts and was one of the best witches in your family. She expressed the most excitement at the complete upheaval of your life to a new country, new school, and hopefully new friends. She raved and raved about how Ravenclaw was the best house. The best scholars and most successful wizards and witches stemmed from her house. Repeatedly, she told you how proud she would be if you were a Ravenclaw too. I’m a Wampus, is what you wanted to say but held your tongue. You knew your family loved you. However, it was a little much sometimes. 
As you boarded the Hogwarts Express, your parents and grandmother's ecstatic faces at the prospect of your success at Hogwarts made you nauseous. You waved back at their frantic hands before finding a deserted train car and sitting next to the window. It was only a minute before the train pulled away and a field, more vibrant than it ought to be in the English cold, came into view. Your eyes flickered across the scenery as tears built up in your eyes and bitterness built up in your heart. You had devoted four years, four damn years, to Ilvermorny. You had a life there. Friends there. A home there. Of course your friends promised to write, but you didn’t know how an owl would make it across the ocean. 
“Oh sorry! I didn’t realize this compartment was-” You had been so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t heard the door open. Quickly wiping your tears, you turned to face the intruder. Or intruders.
Standing before you were three boys. A pair of identical twins with red hair so stark you were surprised it wasn’t fire and a smiling boy with dark skin and even darker eyes. The redhead in the front tilted his head as he studied your appearance. You groaned internally knowing your eyes must’ve been red from crying. Great first impression. But he just smiled and stuck his hand out.
“Fred Weasley and this is my brother George. That back there,” nodding his head at the boy behind them, “is Lee Jordan our best friend. Mind if we join you?”
You bit your lip, their British accents were so...so... British. It caught you off guard despite being in England.
You then realized he was still waiting for an answer, hand extended. He started to lower his hand and grimace. Immediately, your hand shot forward grabbing his.
“I don’t mind at all.” You shook his hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
All the boys stood there frozen for a moment looking at you with wide eyes. You slowly pulled your hand back as silence reigned in the compartment. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, you opened your mouth to speak. But Lee Jordan laughed before shoving his way past the twins and plopping in the seat right across from you.
“A bloody American!!” He choked out past his laughs. You barely noticed Fred and George sit themselves down in the compartment, one next to you and the other beside Lee. “I’ve got so many questions!” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
You let out a nervous laugh as you leaned back slightly. “Um…”
“How about we start with her name first, you git.” You turned, seeing the twin beside you shaking his head at his friend.
“My name’s Y/N Y/L/N.” You responded still looking at the twin beside you who had finally met your eyes.
After that bit of information, Lee didn’t hesitate. “So what year are you?”
“Fifth.”
“Why are you here?”
“My parents wanted me to come to Hogwarts-”
“Is there a wizarding school in America?”
“Yeah it’s called Ilvermorny-”
“Are there houses?”
“There’s Wampus, Pukwudgie, Thunderbird, and Horned Serpent-”
“You have a Slytherin too?”
“What’s Slytherin-”
At that it was like a bomb exploded in the compartment. Lee, Fred, and George all took turns explaining to you the ‘disgusting, evil ways of the Slytherins.’ A direct quote from Lee. In detail they proceeded to explain how Hogwarts worked, the houses (the best being Gryffindor), Peeves, Filch, Severus Snape, etc. By the time the train began to slow down as it reached Hogwarts, you felt like you’d been there for years.
As the train finally pulled to a stop you opened your mouth. “So what if I’m sorted into Slytherin?” You asked the boys.
All of them looked at you with gaping mouths, not really knowing what to say. But the twin to your right, spoke first.
“You won’t be.” He stood up, pulling your suitcase from the shelf above you handing it into your arms.
“How do you know?” You countered as he handed you another suitcase.
He narrowed his eyes at you, tilting his head back and forth and rubbing his chin dramatically before smiling broadly and winking. “I just do.”
He finally pulled down the last thing up on the shelf, being a brown leather ball tied with white string. He furrowed his brows at it and turned to presumably ask you what it was. You snatched it out of his hands and tucked it under your arm.
“It’s a football.”
He opened his mouth to ask, but you had already squeezed past him and the other twin who was gaping at the ball too. You followed the hoard of students towards the door and outside.
“First years this way!!” A deep voice called one side of the platform while another voice directed students into carriages. This presented your dilemma. You weren’t technically a first year but it was your first year at Hogwarts. Would that mean they wanted you with the first years or were you supposed to ride the carriages with the other older students.
Fear started to creep up your spine as you internally panicked and everyone raced around you carrying their luggage, confidently making their way to where they belonged.
But you belonged in America. Thousands of miles away.
“Ms. Y/L/N!!” A shrill voice called. You lifted your head from where you had been zoning out. A small womanly hand waved over the heads of the students. She had a tall witch's hat on and a wrinkled face with deep eyes. You shifted your suitcases in your hands before making your way over to her. The area was near empty as most students had already gotten on a carriage or a boat. “Ms. Y/L/N, my name is Professor McGonagall. I will be escorting you tonight to the Great Hall and answering any questions you might have before you get sorted.” She shook your hand before waving you into a carriage beside her. It was at the front of the line of carriages. You stepped inside with your suitcases and football still clutched under your arm. Professor Mcgonagall stepped in behind you, shutting the door.
The carriage took off, rumbling down the path despite nothing driving it.
“Excuse me, professor.” She looked up smiling. “What’s driving these carriages?”
“Ah, well they’re being driven by Thestrals. Magical creatures that you can only see when you witness death.”
Your eyes widened as you nodded.
“Are there any questions you have about Hogwarts or any worries you’re harboring?” She folded her hands neatly over her robes, kindly smiling at you. It eased the worry in your heart a fraction.
“Actually, not really. Fred, George, and Lee-”
“Oh my! My dear, whatever they have told you is likely to be exaggerated due to their more… exuberant nature. Those boys, while good smart boys, can be quite the troublemakers.” Professor McGonagall smiled fondly while shaking her head. It reminded you of a tired mother.
“Well, I was wondering…” Your eyes looked directly up into the professors, “how do you tell the twins apart?”
A hearty laugh left her lips as she clutched her chest. “My dear, I’m afraid that is the one question I am unable to answer.”
You smiled, looking out of the window of the carriage. The rest of the ride passed quietly until the carriage pulled up to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall instructed you to leave your things where they were before directing you through the doors of Hogwarts. She pulled you into the Great Hall, but instead of letting you sit she pulled you off to the side.
“We have to wait for the first years so everyone can get sorted at the same time.”
You nodded thinking back to your sorting in Ilvermorny. The way the Wampus roared and the Pukwudgie raised its arrow. You chose Wampus for a simple reason, it was your favorite animal. Based on the friends you made, you had never had a reason to regret your decision. But those friends were now thousands of miles away.
You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts you missed Professor McGonagall lightly pushing you behind a small first year.
“Just follow him, dear” She nodded before turning and making her way up the hall. You did what she asked, feeling the embarrassment of being a fifteen year old following an eleven year old. Eventually you ended up in front of the entire hall. Your eyes were finally able to scan the entirety of the school. You studied the Slytherins in green, the Gryffindors in red, the Hufflepluffs in yellow, and finally the Ravenclaws in blue. Your future house. There seemed to be friendly faces throughout the entire table.
“Y/N Y/L/N!” Shit. You had missed the entirety of what had been said. You had no idea what you were supposed to do. You stumbled over to where Professor McGonagall pointed to a hat sitting on a stool. As you made your way to the stool, she turned to the crowd. “Students this is Y/N, she is a former Ilvermorny student which for those of you who don’t know, is located in America.” You heard several gasps throughout the crowd and barely resisted the temptation to roll your eyes. Oh look! A foreigner! “I expect you to treat her with the utmost kindness as she is not only new to this school, but new to England.” The murmurs in the hall had gained volume as people whispered about the American girl.
You grabbed the hat from the stool before sitting down and looking at the hat. It winked at you. You almost dropped it right then, before realizing the entire school was watching your every move.
You placed the hat on your head, nervously glancing up at Professor McGonagall before the hat sank over your eyes.
“Ah, well this is new!” The hat spoke. The hat spoke. “Well, yes I can speak. I can also sing. But alas my job is to decide what house you belong to, American girl. Hm. It appears you were chosen by both Wampus the warrior and Pukwudgie the healer when at Ilvermorny. However, your grandmother was a Ravenclaw when at Hogwarts… but what do you want, Y/N?”
The hat asked you a question.
“Yes, the hat asked you a question!”
“Um, I suppose…” It was a no to Slytherin, the boys had made that much clear. Oddly enough, you didn’t know if you wanted to be a Ravenclaw either. If you were going to be hauled across the world to go to a school you didn’t want to go to, you were going to make your own path.
“I knew it.” The hat laughed joyfully before shouting. “GRYFFINDOR!”
You assumed that was your cue as you pulled the hat off. Cheers were ringing through the hall as groans left the lips of a few others. You stood placing the hat back on the stool, looking to Professor McGonagall for further instructions.
“Well, go join your new house!” She smiled happily before waving you over to the table. You nodded, walking down a few stairs before making your way over to the long table.
“Hey! ‘Merica! Down here!” A familiar voice shouted. You looked over seeing one of the twins waving. Feeling a sense of relief you hurriedly made your way over to him.
He slid over making space for you between himself and his twin.
“Welcome to the best house, ‘Merica!” He laughed slinging an arm over your shoulder.
You couldn’t help the smile that formed. “That’s not my name.”
“It is now.” Lee winked from across the table.
You turned to the twin with his arm over your shoulder narrowing your eyes. “So are you Fred or George?” His other hand not slung around your shoulders slapped against his chest dramatically.
“I’m offended, woman! You should know that I am the great Fred and he” Fred said pointing behind you, “is the great George.”
“You’ll figure it out eventually.” A girl responded from next to Lee. “I’m Angelina, by the way. And I, unlike these gits, will call you by your name.”
“Thank you.”
As food finally appeared on the golden plates before you and everyone dug in, you felt...good. Safe. Normal. Like perhaps Hogwarts wasn’t going to be hell on Earth. Maybe you could actually enjoy going here. You couldn’t change the fact that you were here, but, maybe, you could enjoy it a little.
-----
You remembered the first time you both had class together.
“What do you have today?” Fred or George (you still couldn’t tell) mumbled with a mouth full of food. It was the first day of classes. You pulled out your schedule that had been handed to you earlier that morning.
The other twin snatched it out of your hands. “Arithmancy, Runes, and- George!” The twin, now identified as Fred, elbowed his brother. “She’s got Double Potions with us!”
“Looks like you're stuck with us everyday for the semester, love.” George said pointing to a few classes you shared with them the following days.
“Can’t wait.” You hid your smile behind the piece of toast you shoved in your mouth.
“You know, you never did explain to me what that- that ball was.” Fred said leaning forward with an apple in his hand.
Lee leaned in from beside you, interested. “Yeah, we were all talking about what it could be last night.”
“It’s just a ball. It’s used for a popular Muggle sport in America. My moms a muggle and she taught me how to play.” You nervously tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “It’s the same ball she taught me with.”
“A Muggle sport?” Fred leaned back, seemingly unsatisfied. He glanced at George, then at Lee. “Wanna teach us?”
You laughed. “Maybe. I’ll have to see how well you play Quadpot first before I trust you with my football.”
The boys all looked at each other with confused looks on their faces. But, of course, it was Lee who spoke up first.
“Bloody hell is Quadpot?”
For a moment, you wondered if this was going to a common occurrence. You saying something about American wizardry, everyone looking at you weird and then subsequently asking questions. Probably.
“It’s a game with a qu-”
“A quaffle? Yeah that’s Quidditch!” Fred shouted.
“What I was going to say, was it’s a quod.”
“Bloody hell is a-”
“I would answer your questions if you would stop interrupting me for Pete’s sake!”
Silence reigned over the table.
George raised a hand.
“Yes, George?” You sighed.
“Who’s Pete?”
You blinked. Then blinked again. Took a deep breath in. Then breathed out.
“It’s just a saying. Now can I explain Quadpot or not?”
The boys solemnly nodded. Fred even went as far to zip his lips and throw away the key.
“I’ll do my best to summarize. Two teams of eleven, one quod. A quod is basically an exploding quaffle from the little I know about Quidditch. The goal is for your team to get the quod in the cauldron in the center of the field. If you have the quod when it explodes you’re out. Whenever a team runs out of players the game ends. Most points win. Make sense?”
All three of them sat in silence with their jaws wide open. “That’s brilliant!” Fred and George shouted simultaneously.
“Still not better than Quidditch.” Lee shrugged, shoving some oatmeal in his mouth.
“I mean I suppose. Do you guys play?” You asked.
Lee suddenly slapped his hands on the table. “I can’t believe we didn’t tell her!” Staring straight at Fred and George.
“We’re pretty damn good at Quidditch.” Fred smirked.
“We’ll see.” You winked, grabbing another piece of toast from the center of the table, slinging your bag over your shoulder. You shoved the toast in your mouth before standing and waving to the boys over your shoulder as you strolled out of the Great Hall. “See you boys in Double Potions!”
Luckily, Arithmancy and Runes went smoothly. Angelina was in both classes with you which made everything a little more comforting. Especially, when the professors went over the importance of OWLs at the end of the year. Angelina also introduced you to a few other Gryffindors in your year before classes started.
Finally, you were making your way to Potions in the Dungeons.
“Hey, look it’s the American. I heard she’s a halfblood.” You heard a sneer from behind you. You turned to see what appeared to be a second year Slytherin laughing and pointing at you. He flinched a fraction when he noticed your steely gaze on him. He had blonde hair and a mousy looking face that reminded you of the rats in Boston.
You broke out into laughter before strolling over to him.
“What are you laughing at?” He spat.
You gave him a once over. “A child who thinks he’s cool and witty by throwing some half assed attempt at an insult. If you’re gonna insult someone, maybe say something that’s actually, I don’t know, insulting?” You patted his cheek before turning on your heel and strolling into the Potions classroom, not realizing half the hall was staring at you while the blonde child fumed.
You dropped your bag on the desk closest to the back, knowing this class was with the feared Severus Snape. Suddenly two bags dropped on your left side. You looked up and knew you would see the smiling faces of Fred and George. You were still none the wiser of who was who though.
“I think I’m in love with you.” One of them said. Your eyes widened.
“Oh bugger off, I called dibs.” The other one hit the others shoulder.
You opened your mouth to respond.
“While you boys may think it is attractive for a girl to humiliate a boy younger than her, I cannot share those same sentiments and therefore,” A man pale as a sheet with greasy black hair and a hooked nose appeared over the shoulder of the twins while glaring straight at you, “five points from Gryffindor.” He made his way until he was in front of you. “I’m not surprised the American has decided to align herself with the riff raff. I can’t say I expected more from Americans. Wild eccentrics, the lot of them.” He looked down at you from over his long unseemly nose. It took you a moment for your brain to catch up with all he said. He turned to return to the front of the class.
“Hold on a sec.” You held your hand up. Snape whipped around with fire in his eyes.
“You dare ask me to-”
“You took five points from me because I had the gall to stand up for myself against someone younger than me instead of taking points from the child that you obviously heard insult me first?”
Snape opened his mouth but you decided you weren’t done.
“Also, it’s only humiliation if he’s embarrassed by his actions after I’ve called him out rightfully so. And as far as I’m concerned he should be-”
Snape had rounded back to standing in front of your table. “It is not up to you to question my judgement-”
“Your biased judgement-”
“Ten points from Gryffindor!” He shouted.
Your jaw dropped while your anger seized you. “You can’t do that!”
Snape smirked then. “Actually, Y/L/N, I can do that. I can also give you detention, which you will be serving tonight.”
“Bloody arse.” One of the twins muttered.
“Ten more points and detention for you, whichever Weasley spawn you are!” Snape snarled before whisking away to the front of the classroom. “And if anyone else has a problem with the way I handle my classroom, now is the time to speak up.” His beady eyed gaze met every eye in the class before turning to the board.
“Told you he was a git.” The twin next to you whispered.
You slumped in your seat as a small smile made its way onto your face. “Yeah. You did.”
-----
You remembered your first detention together.
“If I come back and a single speck is out of place, it will be your heads.” Snape growled.
“So we shouldn’t clean, then?” One of the twins tried his hardest not to smile.
Snape narrowed his eyes, your wands clenched tightly in his grasp. Before sweeping out of the classroom, his robes billowing behind him as the door slammed and locked.
“He’s one for dramatics.” You muttered.
The twin chuckled before nodding. “That he is.”
You turned to him. “I’m sorry you’re here. It’s my fault. I should’ve-”
“You were bloody brilliant, ‘Merica!” The twin laughed. “I’ll be dreaming about Snape and Malfoys faces for weeks!”
Heat rose to your cheeks as a smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, I guess?” You grabbed the rag and spray left on Snape’s desk as you set out to clean the desks.
“Oh, you can put that stuff up.”
You turned, furrowing your brow.
He pulled out a wand from his pant pocket. He waved it triumphantly. “It’s Georges. He let me borrow it so we wouldn’t have to clean. Genius, he is.” He turned pointing the wand at the classroom. “Scourgify!”
Smart.
However, you still sprayed the rag before lifting your shoe and wiping the bottom of it doing the same with the other rag. You then poured out half of the bottle of spray down the drain in the middle of the classroom.
The twin furrowed his eyebrows. “What are you doing? I just said-”
“And Snape’s going to be awfully suspicious if the classroom is clean and none of the cleaning supplies are dirty or look used.”
He looked mildly impressed.
“Also, can you please tell me which one you are…”
He started to look offended but then smiled. “Fred.” He said sliding onto one of the desks.
You smacked your forehead before hopping on the desk opposite of the one he was sitting on. “You just said that was George's wand! I should’ve known. I’ll get it eventually, I promise.”
The rest of the night was spent learning things about each other. Talking about everything and nothing. You learned he was a beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch team with George being the other beater. That he had three older brothers and two younger brothers and one younger sister. His dad worked for the Ministry, which he explained was the British equivalent of MACUSA. He was obsessed with muggles and would probably love nothing more than to hear all about your football.
You told him about how you were an only child, how your grandmother went to Hogwarts and was a Ravenclaw. How you grew up in Texas before moving to Massachusetts when you were eleven. That your parents wanted to be close to you despite only seeing you on breaks. He had a lot of questions about Ilvermorny and America which you described in the best detail you could. He was especially fascinated by the size of Ilvermorny compared to Hogwarts. Which made Hogwarts seem bitesize, considering Ilvermorny was the biggest wizarding school in North America (and North America was huge).
You talked for hours until finally, you heard the quick sharp footsteps of Snape quickly approaching the door. Quickly you both jumped off the desks and grabbed rags before dropping to the floor and cleaning non existent spots right as Snape burst through the doors.
His eyes narrowed, searching the room for what you assumed was the slightest speck. Slowly, he strolled through the room wiping his fingers on random surfaces scrutinizing every inch of the classroom. He finally walked past where Fred and you were still kneeling on the ground into the store room. You frantically looked over at Fred.
“We forgot to scourgify the store room!” You whisper-shouted.
Fred smiled widely before winking and grabbing your forearm. Before you could blink, you were being hauled across the classroom. “Accio Wands!” Fred shouted as you made it to the door of the Potions classroom. The wands came flying at you from Snape's pocket as he turned, his eyes livid.
“Goodnight, Snape!” Fred called as he shut the door behind you and tugged you quickly up the nearest staircase. Your laughs following you both all the way to the Fat Lady. “Fortuna Major.” Fred whispered.
The Fat Lady smiled knowingly. “Little late to be out on a date, is it?”
Before you could respond, Fred had beat you to the punch as the picture frame swung open. “You know I would never cheat on you, my love.”
Both of you climbed inside seeing the common room was dead empty.
“Well that was…” You started.
“Fun? Thrilling?” Fred spread his arms almost as wide as his smile.
You crossed yours, tilting your head as you smiled at him. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Finally, you turned towards the girls dorm staircase stopping at the base. Fred was still standing in the same place, his arms by his side, when you glanced back.
“Something like that.” You finally responded.
“G’night, ‘Merica.” Fred called as you ascended the stairs.
Your smile followed you all the way to your bed.
-----
You remembered your first trip to Hogsmeade together.
That morning you were having a specifically hard time. Which was odd considering you’d been in Hogwarts for over a month now. Sitting in the Great Hall half a dozen owls had brought you a few letters and packages. You opened the one from your parents first.
Dear Y/N,
Hope you’re doing well! Dad got a promotion at his Ministry job (which is great news!). The International Magical Cooperation Department has really taken a liking to him! Anyway, I think I’ve finally gotten everything unpacked here and I can’t wait until Christmas for you to see your room! Grandma did tell me she was sorry you weren’t in Ravenclaw, but was glad you at least weren’t a “ooey gooey Hufflepuff.” Or something like that. I’m rambling now, but please tell me how classes have been and your friends are!
Speaking of friends, consider this an early early Christmas present. Some of your friends from Ilvermorny managed to send a few letters and packages using the mailing system (I had to explain it to your father). Anyway! Enjoy them!
Love you bunches! XOXO
Mom
A smile broke out on your face as you grabbed a random letter and ripped it open.
Hey kid,
I’m not sure how reliable this No-Maj mail thing is but here goes. Everyone misses you here. Wampus isn’t the same without our resident defender. Iris really misses you but won’t say it. She’s determined you’ll be back before the year ends. Honestly, I think we’re all hoping that. It seriously bites that you’re stuck in England with all those snob-nosed Brits. Plus, who the hell calls em Muggles? Fucking Brits…
Anyway, we won this year's first Quadpot game against the Thunderbird. It may have been the quickest game I’ve ever witnessed. Mary and Louisa were on their game, making perfect tosses to get it into the cauldron. They got new brooms this year too which were really helpful. I wish you could’ve seen it! Although, the funniest part was when Olivia caught the quod (we broke up by the way, but that’s another letter for another time) and she froze! It was hilarious. She was the last one out on the Thunderbird team. It exploded about five seconds after she caught it. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. We still had six players on our team and we were up by 28. There was no way Olivia was going to make those points back. We definitely felt your absence at the party afterwards though. We had a moment of silence for our best Quadpot player before we partied hard like we knew you would’ve wanted us too.
Well, I’m sure you have plenty of English tea to drink and boys to snog just don’t forget about lil ole Danny back here in the states. I think Iris is writing you a letter. She’s writing in her book and practically hisses at anyone who tries to see what it is. Anyway we miss you and can’t wait till you come back to America.
Best,
Danny
There were tears in your eyes by the time you finished reading the letter. You had forgotten how much you missed Quadpot. How much you missed the Wampus dorms. Gossiping with Louisa, pranking first years with Danny, practicing spells with Iris, talking about No-Maj things with Thomas. Everything you’d gotten used to for four years. You put down Danny’s letter and reached for the next one.
You looked up as Fred slid in front of you.
Fred. Oh my god. I know it’s Fred.
“Fred?” You cautiously asked. Secretly hoping you were right.
He winked. “I knew you’d get it eventually.” He nodded at the letters and packages scattered across the table. “Who did all these come from?” He picked up one of the packages. “Iris Capace.” He raised a brow looking at you.
“Friends from Ilvermorny.” You bit your lip scanning the letters in front of you, trying not to cry.
You heard Fred set the package down.
“I bet you miss ‘em.” The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. He was usually joking, sarcastic, and goofy. But rarely gentle.
You nodded, clearing your throat. “I do.”
Fred didn’t respond for a moment. You looked up to see him glancing around the table at the numerous letters and packages. He seemed to feel your gaze on him because he looked up to meet your eyes. His smile seemed much brighter and warmer than it had ever before. It made your heart stutter.
“Well then, it’s a good thing we’re going to Hogsmeade today so we can buy them a couple of souvenirs to send back.” He stood holding his hand out after grabbing a few of the heavier looking packages. “Come on. Let’s go drop these off at the dorm so we can make it in time to Hogsmeade.”
You gathered the left over letters and packages under your arm before grabbing his hand. You realized how impractical it was to hold his hand as you walked down the table, your hands clasped together over the table. He refused to let go, though, even as you passed a few Gryffindors. They just had to duck under your outstretched hands.
After depositing your letters and packages in your room and grabbing your money, Fred walked with you to the carriages.
George, Lee, and Angelina were all waiting by one of the carriages.
“It’s about time!” Angelina shook her head despite the smile on her lips. “Thought you two got lost.”
“I bet they did.” Lee whispered under his breath as you stepped in the carriage, Fred getting in behind you.
“In eachothers eyes.” You heard George whisper back laughing quietly as he climbed in.
You ended up sitting next to Angelina. She wanted to ask you all about Adrian Pucey who had cornered you after Potions the other day to flirt with you. That conversation topic lasted you all the way into Hogsmeade, while you occasionally heard bits and pieces of the boys talking about the next Quidditch match.
When the carriages pulled up to Hogsmeade at last, Angelina grabbed your arm excitedly.
“I forgot this is your first time here!” She dragged you out of the carriage immediately pulling you towards a pub called The Three Broomsticks. “First things first, you have to try butterbeer!!”
You refrained from telling her you were from America and not another planet and you had had butterbeer before. But her excitement rubbed off and you couldn’t break her heart. So you kept that fact to yourself.
The inside of The Three Broomsticks was rustic and charming. It was warm and felt incredible coming in from the brisk cold that always seemed to linger no matter where you went. Angelina ordered two butterbeers and found a spot for you both off to the side. The table was small but perfect to fit the two of you.
“So how’s Quidditch going? I vaguely heard the boys talking about it on the way here.” You asked, taking a sip of the butterbeer. You almost forgot it was supposed to be your first time tasting it, so you made a shocked face. “This is really good!!”
Angelina narrowed her eyes at you before taking a sip of her own butterbeer. “You can lay off it now. I should’ve figured you’d had it before. My fault.” She was still smiling though, which was a good sign. “But, Quidditch has been...good. Practice is hell though. Don’t get me wrong I love being up on my broom, but Wood can talk for hours. Which means I’m exhausted by the time we end up getting up in the air.”
“That bad?” You grimaced taking another long sip.
“Especially when we have Slytherin games upcoming. I think he forgets sometimes that we want to win as much as he does. He just really wants the Quidditch cup this year.” Angelina glanced around before lowering her voice. “After losing to Hufflepuff due to the Dementor, he’s just really on edge. None of us blame Harry, of course, but it’s Woods last year and we would need to beat both Slytherin and Ravenclaw to have a shot. Not only that, but we’d have to beat them by a decent amount…” She rubbed her forehead before downing more butterbeer.
You laid your hand on the table close to her. “Angelina, you guys played really well from what I saw. You’ve got it in the bag. But there’s no sense in stressing about it now when you can’t do anything about it.”
“She’s right, you know?” You glanced up to see George pulling up a chair next to you.
“We did play well.” Fred slid another chair on Angelina’s side. It took you only a moment to spot Lee leaning against the wall nodding his head.
“But what do you say we finish our drinks and go get some of those souvenirs.” Fred nodded at you.
“Souvenirs?” Angelina asked looking at you. “For who?”
“Friends back in America. Or The States as you Brits call it.” That surprisingly caused a peal of laughter to ring from everyone.
“I reckon she’s learning!” George laughed, elbowing your side.
“We’ll make a proper Brit of you yet!” Lee chimed in.
You raised your Butterbeer. “Not a chance,” and tossed back what was left in your glass.
The rest of the day was spent (literally) on buying weird must-haves from Zonko’s and candy from Honeydukes. You were mainly excited about getting new cards from all the chocolate frogs you bought. America’s cards had famous American wizards, so being able to get dozens of new ones was exciting.
Before you knew it, you were back on the carriage to Hogwarts. Back in the Gryffindor common room examining a few of the presents you had gotten for your friends.
“I promise they work. The dungbombs are personally my favorite and if your friend Danny is half the man you say he is, he’ll love them.” Fred said as he plopped into the chair next to you in the back of the common room.
You looked up. “Danny with the three of you guys would honestly be a dangerous combination.” You held the dungbomb up in front of your face. “I know he’s gonna love these.” You peeked over the top of it. “Thanks.”
Fred smiled another one of his award winning smiles. The one that made all the girls' knees weak. “Anything for you, ‘Merica.” Then he frowned suddenly before digging in his pocket. When he lifted out a small bag, he laughed softly. “Almost forgot.” He tossed the bag at you.
You caught it midair and raised a brow.
“Saw it and thought of you.” He shrugged. With that he stood and bowed dramatically. “Well I must be off to bed, my lady. It was an honor to assist you today, I am your humble servant.” He grabbed your hand and planted a kiss on it before winking and whisking himself away up the stairs of the boys dorm. Your hand was still stuck in midair slightly tingling.
You glanced down at the bag before pulling the strings that held it closed. You turned it over and watched as a silver necklace tumbled out. The chain was thin and long, but it was the pendant that your eyes were focused on.
It was a tiny glass ball, within it was exploding fireworks.
Fred Weasley. Your heart skipped a beat as the red firework held his name before dissolving in the glass as another firework shot off.
It was stunning. You pulled the chain over your head and tucked it underneath your shirt. The pendant fell in the center of your chest. It felt warm against your heart. You pressed it closer.
At that, it was time for bed.
But you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.
-----
You remembered your first goodbye.
The Great Feast had been spectacular. Also a god send considering how insane the year had been. You were honestly tired and ready to see your parents. Yet, you also were sad to leave the friends you had made. The deep friendships you had made. Something about the fear of dying has an odd way of making anyone feel closer.
You were sitting between Fred and Alicia Spinnet. Listening as Dumbledore finished awarding Gryffindor the House Cup and Quidditch Cup. Everyone around you, including yourself, exploded in cheers. Jumping from their seats, hugging each other, shouting about how Gryffindor was the best house.
Eventually you all sat down and began eating after Dumbledore sat down. The energy at your table was incomparable. You scanned your eyes over all the friends you had made. Angelina laughing from across you at some dumb joke George said from beside her. Lee on her other side flirting with Katie and Alicia. Wood on the other side of Fred raving about how excited he was about the Quidditch cup win. Harry, Ron and Hermione further down laughing like they deserved. Fred beside you, looking right at you.
“You’re not eating.” He nodded at your plate.
You shrugged. “I was just observing everyone. I’m gonna miss it, I guess.”
Fred’s eyes widened.
“You’re not coming back next semester?” He shouted. It attracted the attention of everyone around you whose smiles suddenly dropped as they stared at you.
You raised your hands. “Hold on! I never said that!”
“So...are you coming back?” Lee pointed his fork at you. “Cause if you’re not, we’ll just outright kidnap you.”
“Guys. I’m coming back! Don’t worry. Everyone can proceed to their regularly scheduled programming.”
“Regularly scheduled-” Angelina began to ask.
“Don’t ask.” You held up your hand before turning back to Fred. It seemed that after that, everyone slowly went back to their own conversations. “But what I was saying is that it’s weird living with you guys for so long and then just...not.” You shrugged now not wanting to meet his eyes. Nervous that he would think you were too clingy or weird for saying that.
But instead he nudged your shoulder with his own. “I get it. But I’m sure you’re more than welcome to visit the Burrow.”
Your face fell. He was offering you to visit his home? During the summer. It sent a warm feeling through your whole body. It was only then that you realized you hadn’t responded and Fred had misinterpreted that silence.
His hand lifted to rub his neck. “Or not. It’s not really a big deal, it’s small anyway…” He trailed off.
Your face broke out into a big grin before you laid your hand on his arm that was still wrapped behind his neck. “I’d love to.” His nervous frown widened into that familiar smile you loved so much. “My family’s going to visit America for the two months of summer but if the offer still stands when I come back, I’d love to.”
Fred slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “Trust me, that offer isn’t going anywhere.”
The rest of the meal passed in just as much joy and happiness as you could have hoped. Not a single Gryffindor had a frown or left the table hungry.
What seemed like the blink of an eye, the lot of you were crammed into one train car on the way back home. You had the window seat again with Angelina beside you. She insisted on sitting next to you on the way back.
Despite Angelina's addition, it reminded you of the first train ride to Hogwarts. The fear you felt, the longing you had for Ilvermorny, for America. Your nerves at knowing next to nothing about the people here or how the school differed from the one you were used to. But it was the knowledge of how much you had grown and the friends that had been a part of that that made you smile.
The people in the train car were your new home. Your new school mates as they drilled into your head.
“Thinking hard over there, ‘Merica? Schools over now, you don’t have to do that.” Lee said tossing the football your way.
You caught it without thinking and tossed it to George. “Some of us like to use our brains year round, Jordan.”
Angelina snickered as she caught the ball from George and tossed it back to Lee.
“Hey! Am I chopped liver?” Fred shouted, raising his hands.
“Sorry Fred!” Angelina winced, although you saw the hint of a smile lingering on her lips.
Your friends were batshit. But you loved them.
You tossed the football back and forth, while talking about your summer plans until the train pulled in the station. Everyone stood up and began grabbing their suitcases (or trunks as they insisted calling them) from the shelves above.
You tucked the football under your arm as you followed Angelina out with your suitcases in hand. You could hear Fred and George laughing about something from behind you. Finally you made it on the platform and spotted your parents' kind faces. You raced towards them and dropped your suitcases at their feet along with the ball as you threw your arms around their necks.
“I missed you guys!” You smiled as you pulled back to see their smiling faces.
“We missed you too, sweetheart.” Your mother cupped your cheek with her hand. She glanced behind you. “And who are these lovely people?”
You turned seeing Fred, George, Angelina, and Lee all standing there smiling at you. Your heart melted a little.
“Mom, Dad, these are the people I’ve been telling you about.”
“Oh, so you’ve been writing about me to your parents, have you?” Fred winked. A blush rose to your cheeks before you could stop it.
Your mom laughed before outstretching her hand. “Well, it’s nice to officially meet you bunch. I’m Mrs.Y/L/N and this is Mr. Y/L/N.” They each took turns shaking her hand before she spoke up again. “I do believe you’re Angelina, you must be Lee, and I would have to be stupid not to think you were the identical twins George and Fred?”
At that everyone's eyes widened, including yours. George and Fred? That sounded so… so… wrong.
Fred said, “It’s Fred and George,” the same time George said, “Right you are!”
You shook your head before stepping away from your parents to give each of your friends a hug and saying goodbye.
Angelina promised she’d write before she slipped away to leave with her parents. Lee made eyes at the football as he hugged you, and it took a promise that you would buy him one in America that finally satisfied him before he left as well. Fred and George were a little different. George hugged you tightly and messed your hair up a bit.
“We’ll see you at the Burrow later this summer I hear?”
“That’s the plan.” You glanced over at Fred. You felt George’s eyes follow your own before he laughed quietly.
“I get it. I know who your favorite Weasley is.” He winked before letting you go.
You grabbed his arm. “It’s you. Don’t tell Fred.” You winked back as he laughed all the way back to his family.
Finally, Fred pulled you into a tight hug. Your best friend.
“I’ll miss you.” You mumbled into his chest.
“Oh and here I was thinking George was your favorite Weasley.” He pulled back enough to look at you. You bit your lip to withhold the smile creeping in.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His eyes narrowed. “Mhm. Sure you don’t.” Fred shook his head before pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’ll miss you too, ‘Merica. But I’ll see you at the Burrow later this summer. Might even have a surprise for you.” Just like his brother, he sent you a wink, and turned to return to his family.
You stood staring after him for a minute before you realized your parents were a couple yards behind you. You turned, the blush still hot on your cheeks.
Your dad had your luggage in his hands with a smirk on his face, one of his brows raised. You reached down grabbing your football before following your family to the brick wall.
“So I’m assuming that one was Fred?” Your dad chuckled. If your blush could get deeper it would’ve.
“Oh hush! She’s embarrassed already at her parents seeing her crush!” Your mom slapped your dad's arm. Your parents started bickering then like young lovers. You tuned it out the closer you got to the wall. Your dad was the first to walk through, followed by your mom.
A slight tug pulled in your gut before you stepped in the brick wall. You glanced back looking for those familiar brown eyes. It took you only a moment before you found them. Already looking at you. His lips tugged up into a smile as he lifted his hand.
If there was a fraction of anxiety going into the summer, it was gone then. That safe comforting smile of Fred Weasley always did you in. You lifted your hand and smiled back before confidently turning and walking through the wall.
As excited as you were to see your friends in America again, you secretly knew your heart would be thousands of miles across the sea in a small house in the country.
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misslexilouwho · 3 years
Text
Cocoa & Cuddles | OneShot
Pairing: Marcus Moreno x F!Reader 
Summary: As Marcus Moreno’s assistant, sometimes you have to bring MIssy home from school. When a sudden blizzard snows you in with the Morenos, your budding feelings for your boss are exposed. 
Warnings/What to Expect: Fluff as soft as the snow that’s falling outside. Reader is bisexual (quick mention of a former girlfriend, but if you’re not bi you can always read it like how old ladies call their girls “girlfriends”).
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: So I live in New England and we got hammered with a Nor’easter last night/today. I got inspired to write this. I hope you guys enjoy it! 
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The day had started out like any other. As Marcus Moreno’s personal assistant, you spent most of your days in meeting briefs or working at your desk. Sometimes you went on a mid-day coffee run for your boss, and he always told you to get something for yourself, ever the gentleman. Occasionally, Marcus had to stay late and couldn’t grab his daughter Missy from school, so you would pick her up. Today was one of those days.
“I’m sorry to ask you to do this today. The Director wants me and a few other Heroics in a closed meeting – something about a potential new threat, I guess. Hopefully it’s not too long.” Marcus is leaning on your desk, his head tilted back. You know that he loves his job as the leader of the Heroics, but sometimes it takes a toll on him. It seems like this was one of those times, and you wish you could do something to help ease his stress.
You reach over your closed laptop and place a hand on his, feeling the tension as he grips your desk, the veins protruding from his skin. He turns to look at you, warm brown eyes peering into yours. You smile, warmth pooling in your chest as you try to reassure him. “Hey, it’s no problem, Marcus. I love Missy, she’s a sweet kid.” He moves his hand out from yours, and you can’t help but worry that you made a misstep. You watch as he rakes his hand through his thick dark hair and lets out a sigh.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, hon,” he chuckles softly before pushing himself off your desk. You both glance at the clock, realizing it’ll be time to get Missy soon. “You can head out now if you want. The meeting starts in ten anyways. Drive safe, looks like it might rain.” He tilts his head towards the window, where outside the clouds have started to gather in the sky.
You have the heat cranked up in your car as you wait in the pickup line for Missy at school. It’s a lot colder out now than it was this morning, which you find peculiar, considering it’s normally warm this time of year. Missy comes up to your car and swings open the passenger door before tossing her backpack into the back seat.
“Hey, Missy! How was school today?” You assume Marcus must’ve told her you were picking her up, since she didn’t seem confused by you being here.
“Not bad, but I’m glad it’s over. It was so boring today.” She buckles up and then the two of you are off to her house on the outskirts of the city. You spend the car ride chatting and laughing, singing along to music together. The ride passes quickly and once you get to the house, Missy doesn’t seem to want to say goodbye yet. “Do you think you could come in and help me with my homework?”
You don’t have any other plans for the night, so you decide to come in. Missy gets settled in immediately, turning on music to listen to in the background as she gets into her homework. You realize soon that she didn’t really need your help, as she gets through it without any issue. It’s nearly 5 when she finishes up, and her stomach growls.
“What’s for dinner, kiddo?” You stand up and walk from the kitchen table to the fridge, looking to see what Marcus had planned for tonight. You find a few frozen meals in the freezer, coupons to the local pizzeria on the door, and…bingo. Ground beef in the fridge.
“I think Dad was just going to do pizza tonight,” you hear Missy say as you start rummaging through the fridge, pulling out the necessary ingredients, thankful that Marcus actually went grocery shopping this week. There were some weeks where all he did was order takeout, but you’ve reminded him that homecooked meals are important – even if they were simple, since you know he wasn’t the best cook out there.
“How about empanadas?” You close the fridge door and smile at Missy before moving to the cabinet to pull out the spices, flour, and salt. You set them down on the counter as Missy comes over to you, eyes wide.
“We haven’t had homemade empanadas since before Mom…” she trails off and you swear you feel your heart stop. Shit. Were you overstepping? But then she smiles at you, and your heart starts again. “Can I help?”
“Grab some bowls, and let’s go, chica,” you wink.
It takes you longer to make the empanadas with Missy than it does when you do it by yourself, but that’s because the two of you are dancing around the kitchen, taking turns singing into the spatula like it’s a microphone. Once they’re all put together, you start to fry them and Missy plates them carefully.
“How did you learn how to make empanadas anyways?” Missy asks you at one point.
“I had a girlfriend from Brazil when I was in college who liked to teach me her favorite meals, actually.” You lower a raw empanada into the frying oil and watch as the oil bubbles up around the edges. “This one ended up being one of my favorites, so I make it every once in a while.”
“Well, I’m glad she taught you then. We did a pretty good job, I think.” She smiles, proud of the meal you created together.
You’re about to respond when the opening and closing of a door catches both of your attentions.
“Something smells incredible!” Marcus saunters into the kitchen, a wide smile on his face. It’s the kind of smile you rarely see at work, the one he saves for Missy, where his adorable dimple is on display. When he turns his gaze towards you, smile still wide, your breath catches in your throat. “I didn’t expect to see your car here, but I’m glad you’re not on the roads driving home. It started snowing on my way here and the roads are a mess.”
“Hopefully they get some plows out soon then,” you muse, “Missy and I were just finishing up dinner for you guys.”
“For us,” Missy corrects you. “You made this; you should have some. C’mon, let’s eat. I’m starving!” She grabs you by the hand and brings you over to the table, which she had already set with three plates. You laugh, and the three of you sit down to eat.
It’s nice having someone to eat with, you realize. Most of your nights are spent eating on your own, so this was a pleasant change of pace. The three of you laughed, talking about your days, and when the food was gone, you just kept sitting at the table talking. At one point, Missy gets up to look out the window and exclaims that it’s a full-on blizzard.
“Guess this means you can’t go home,” Missy says in a sing-song voice, bouncing on her heels. You raise a brow at her, wondering what her endgame was here.
“I’m sure I can get home—” you begin before Marcus cuts you off.
“Absolutely not. You’re staying here with us tonight. You can take my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.” You start to argue, but he stops you by putting up his hand. “End of story. I want to keep you safe.”
You roll your eyes but smile, accepting defeat. “My Heroic,” you chuckle. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I keep extra toiletries in my car. Just wish I had extra clothes in the car too.”
“I bet Dad has clothes you can borrow,” Missy says. You lock eyes with Marcus and a blush creeps across your face. You can’t quite tell, but it seems like he’s blushing too. “Where’s the bag? I’ll grab it while you and Dad grab clothes.” You try to tell Missy that you can get the bag yourself, but she tells you she can just look through your car to find it herself and then she’s gone.
“Well, I guess we should grab some clothes to change into then?” You run a hand through your hair, feeling a little embarrassed. Marcus chuckles and stands up before putting his hand out for you to grab. He brings you up to his room and tells you to sit on the bed while he rummages through his drawers. His room is clean, and everything has a place, you notice. There are photos of him and Missy, Missy on her own, and one of Missy with her mother on the dresser. You feel like you’re intruding on an intimate space now, wondering if he kept the mattress he used with his late wife.
You don’t notice that he caught you staring at the photo until he speaks. “She was a wonderful woman. We miss her a lot, but we’ve learned to move on. Selling our old house and replacing furniture was tough at first, but Missy’s therapist said that the furniture held too many sad memories, and we needed to create new ones.” His voice is solemn, his almond shaped eyes looking down at the ground for a moment before he takes a deep breath.
“I…I’m sorry, Marcus,” is all you can seem to say. He comes over and sits next to you on the bed, and you reach your hand over, letting it rest on his thigh. “She looks a lot like Missy.”
He smiles, turning his head to face you. “She does. Missy reminds me a lot of her. It was so…special, seeing her in the kitchen making her Mama’s favorite food. Thank you for tonight.” His eyes are warm, and he places his hand on yours. You bite your lip, wanting to move in and close the distance from your lips to his. You’ve worked for Marcus for nearly a year now, and it’s safe to say you’ve fallen for your boss. His demeanor, the way he smiles at you, the conversations and laughs you have over lunch together…you wonder if he feels the same way.
“I found the bag!” You hear Missy yell from downstairs, breaking the intimate moment you were having.
Marcus blinks and shakes his head before moving his hand from yours and standing up. He leaves the clothes neatly folded on the bed and clears his throat. “I’ll let you get changed.” He makes his way to the door and closes it behind him as he leaves you alone, playing the moments prior in your head over and over again. You change into the clothes he left you – a graphic band tee that hugged your curves and a pair of flannel bottoms that you had to roll up to keep yourself from tripping over – and opened the door to find Marcus leaning against the wall across from you.
If you weren’t so nervous about looking like a fool, you would’ve seen the way his eyes took you in. The sight of you wearing his clothes was one he needed to commit to memory, sweeping you up and down with a feeling he all but forgot about until you walked into his life. He noticed the outfit you wore to work today folded up neatly in your hands. “I could wash those in the next load if you wanted?”
“Oh, uh. No that’s okay. I…uh, I’m just going to tuck them in my laptop bag.” You didn’t want to admit that you had taken off your underwear, although you were sure the relaxed position your breasts were in was obvious.
“Okay, you’re the boss.” He winks at you, a coy smile on his lips.
“I think that’s technically your job, Marcus,” you laugh. “I’ll go see if Missy wants to watch a movie or something. Catch you downstairs.”
Missy is already watching some show when you get downstairs, so you decide to just join her and sit on the couch beside her. Marcus joins you shortly after, wearing a similar pair of flannel pants and a plain gray shirt that perfectly shows off his biceps. When he goes to sit next to Missy, she stretches out so he can’t. She is such a strange girl sometimes. Marcus ends up sitting next to you on the couch and the three of you spend the next few hours watching random sitcoms until you all decide to hit the hay.
~~~
You get comfortable quickly, enjoying the plushness of Marcus’ bed as you snuggle up next to one of the pillows. It smells like him – like the laundry detergent he uses (which you know is Seventh Generation Geranium Blossom & Vanilla, since you’ve had to pick it up for him before), and the vanilla and amber cologne he uses that you get a whiff of when he stands a little too close to you. Imagining how it would feel to be cuddled up with Marcus in his bed, you drift off to sleep easily.
Somewhere around 3AM, you wake up. The wind is howling, whipping tree branches around and the noise startles you. You bolt upright, feeling tight in your chest. It’s just wind, it shouldn’t scare you, but you can’t stop your heart from racing. Looking around the room, you’re caught off guard at first before remembering you spent the night at your boss’s house. “Hopefully he has some cocoa…” You swing your legs over the side of the bed and hear your feet gently plop onto the ground before shuffling out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
Marcus is passed out on the couch, his hair sticking up everywhere, which makes you giggle. His hair is always so perfect, even during a fight, you thought that maybe one of his powers was controlling his hair. Making your way to the kitchen, you fumble with the light switches, trying to find the one that will be the dimmest, but accidentally switch on the one to the hallway. You curse under your breath, hoping Marcus is a deep sleeper and quickly flick it off, finally finding the one you need.
You start to make your cocoa before realizing that you’d either need to microwave the milk (ew) or turn on the stove – both of which would surely wake him up. You sigh and set the mug down on the counter, ready to give up when you hear his voice.
“Can’t sleep?” He’s leaning on the other side of the counter and you blush, embarrassed to be caught.
“The wind woke me up…cocoa helps me sleep sometimes, so I thought I’d make some. But then I realized you’d probably wake up if I turned on the stove. But I guess I already woke you…Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, it’s fine. That couch is good for sitting but not the best for sleeping. I was struggling to sleep too. Maybe I’ll have a cup myself.” He comes closer to you, looking up at the cabinet you’re in front of. He reaches around you and grabs a mug for himself.
“I’ll get the milk ready then.”
Once your mugs are filled with cocoa, he suggests going back to the couch to watch something. You agree and sit next to him on the couch, legs touching despite having the space to spread out. He flips through the channels while you both sip your cocoa, just enjoying the silence between you. He finds a movie that you’ve both seen before but keeps it on anyways.
“Thank you again for letting me stay over, Marcus. I’m sure it’s weird having your assistant spend the night.” You finish your cocoa and place the empty mug on the table in front of you before leaning back.
“I don’t mind. Like I said, I want to keep you safe, hon.” He places a hand on your knee and gives it a little squeeze. “Missy likes having you around too, I can tell.”
You smile up at him, and feeling a little confident, decide to lean against him. He moves his arm and wraps it around your side, resting his hand on your hip. You hear the soft clink of a mug on glass and realize he must’ve set his down on the table next to him. Then, the coffee table moves. Right, metal manipulation. He presses a button and the footrest pops out, elevating his feet as he lets out a yawn.
“I should go back upstairs…” You say quietly, but you don’t move. He doesn’t respond, just holds you closer to him, and you shift to get more comfortable.
You don’t know when you fell asleep, but it must’ve happened, because when morning comes, you’re both woken up by Missy shouting.
“Where’s the fire?” Marcus asks groggily.
“The fire is here,” Missy gestures between you two. “If you don’t kiss her Dad, I swear I will lose it.”
You laugh and feel your cheeks burn. “I mean…if you’d like to, I’m quite okay with that.”
“I thought you’d never ask, honey.”
--
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how would they react if S / O would die? Plis?
Y'all- I'm not ready- I know I have answered a similar ask, but this will not stop me. These will be short unless my brain decides to go 50 MPH!
TW: Scenerios based around the death of a loved one.
Allies and Axis: Reaction to their S/O's death!
Allies:
America:
If it was a natural death, and a fulfilling relationship he'd have not only taken care of their graves, but decides to be their main caretaker as well.
He tries really hard not to cry, but he does, and is immediately searching for England for support.
He can't simply admit to how great the pain is, but how amazing and happy, and proud he is another thing.
Does nothing but talk about them in a good light.
And one talks badly about them, and they will get shit down.
Looking after their resting place has become very therapeutic.
He decorates their grave for any holiday
When their anniversary, birthday, or a major special event comes around, he makes sure to leave behind a small trinket he knows his S/O would love.
If his lover dies due to an unnatural event, he will be very agressive for a while.
Until one day he breaks down and just sobs In front of the others.
It will make everyone kind of uncomfortable, but England is there to take him away and tall him through it.
After that he slowly bounces back, not wanting his S/O to have the chance to see him break like that.
He does become a little wiser, and starts holding people's opinions and Requests with more respect as well.
England:
Natural death or not, he will get drunk, and sob for a few days.
France and America have to drag him out of the house, and he's just kind of miserable?
He only snaps out of it when France mentions how out of Character he is, and how he's surprised his S/O ever fell for him if he's like this.
Does a 180 in like, three days.
Makes monthly trips to their grave, and sometimes does so at night.
Has perfected a spell that summons their ghost, but it only works during a full moon.
And it only lasts for 5 minutes.
And it doesn't always work.
So even with his best efforts he hardly sees them anyway.
But he promised his beloved he would keep their Spirit alive in his waking life.
He becomes so much more calm, and patient after a year or so.
He's taken a lesson from this that everything is fleeting, and it's better to take in all the moments as they come.
He likes to bring a radio and book to the gravesight and just read to them.
He claims he can feel their smile when he does.
China:
He has an extremely long grieving period.
We're talking a couple of years for him to move on.
If it was a natural cause he tries his best but his home feels so empty without them.
Someone suggested putting up pictures of them in places he spends most, and it kind of works.
If anyone visits him, chances are they'll catch him talking to those pictures, and it's kind of sad. Like in a sobering way.
The main thing that helps him get over it is the stuff that was left behind.
Books, plushies, perfumes/cologne, anything he can use to immerse himself in them is kept and stored away.
He only ever looks at it when he really, really misses them. Even if he needs it for a good cry.
Their grave has Panda's and their favorite animal cuddling on the stone. A Request by his S/O.
If they pass from unnatural causes he's seeking out revenge in whatever form he can get.
Someone is really going to have to restrain him, so Russia is involved if anyone catches wind of his schemes.
He will barricade himself in his S/O's room, and refuse to leave, and will barely eat.
Japan is the only person he will talk to, and when he does it's not very much.
The only way to snap him out of it is to physically drag him out in public, and he can and will run off at the first sight of another couple.
Once he starts thinking about all the good memories he has, he starts to feel better and recover.
Russia:
He's surprisingly the most at peace of his S/O passes away naturally.
He's not exactly in pain over it, but he smiles and talks as if his S/O was there, and listening.
He actually has a Matryoshka of his S/O that has a wedding ring attached to it.
Even if his S/O didn't marry him he still wanted them to keep it, just because he felt they deserved to be reminded of just how much he loves them.
He's also calmed down significantly, and Pretty much vowed to love his life for his S/O.
The others originally thought he'd have snapped, but he's now magically everyone's therapist???
Turns out all the time he spent with his S/O wasn't meaningless fluffy feelings.
He was also proud of himself for allowing them in, and being able to take his walls down.
But if it was unnatural causes, that's when he snaps.
Best way to stop him?
"What would S/O think!?"
He'd get really depressed and dissapointed at that point.
He will spend a good couple weeks at their grave apologizing. Both for not being able to protect him, and losing his control, breaking an important Promise.
He gets over it after a couple months. It's best to just let him be until he does.
Axis:
Germany:
He was mostly in shock. More so if they dies from an unnatural cause.
He'd be more snappy towards everyone, but is quick to apologize.
The others understand and even when he snaps they know why, and feel mostly helpless.
He tends to storm out of the meetings when the others get too rowdy, and won't go back in until they settle down.
He works out more, and Russia could have sworn he saw Ludwig lip his car over one day.
Has many breakdowns
His brother literally has to slap it out of him and force him to realize how out of it he is.
He cries that night in his brothers shoulder.
Austria is second to the rescue, and help Germany find ways to cope.
The two of them together are successful at helping Germany find some inner peace over it, and he starts a small garden in honor of his lover.
Japan:
He is going to cry for the first couple of nights, but doesn't regret a single night spent with them.
He knew it was going to hurt, and he just let's it happen.
No shame, no overthinking, he just cries to get it out of his system, even if it's just a little.
He thinks of all the times his S/O got him out of his shell, and blushes at the times they made him feel most alive.
You can tell when he thinks of them by the peaceful smile on his face.
He dares not touch their room, and sometimes sleeps in it, simply because it helps him sleep at night.
He has dreams about them when he's in there.
Likes to think that's them saying hi from the afterlife, and if it is he doesn't want them to ever stop.
Any unnatural causes will make him seem cold for a few weeks, but Italy manages to get through to him.
Watching Italy prance around almost reminds him of how happy his S/O made him feel. They made him want to prance around, and he almost regrets not doing so.
Italy:
Another one who is surprisingly full of happy tears and smiles.
He knows they're in a good place, and is just to overwhelmed with pride and happiness to be sad.
It still hurts, but thinking about them makes him so giddy, and smile.
They were his drug, and his cure.
So it was only logical to keep marching on as the one thing his S/O loved the most. Himself!
Though if it was an unnatural cause, he won't be sleeping properly for a while.
Japan and Germany actually have to keep an eye on him, Because his exhausted state has almost caused a few accidents, involving himself, and sometimes those around him.
When he does manage to sleep finally (thank you Japan and China for teaching him guided meditations) He's out for almost a whole day.
Germany goes out of his way to make something Italy and his S/O ate a lot.
Italy winds up crying and frowning. Surprisingly became extremely withdrawn when Germany tried to comfort him
But he recovers after eating and is able to smile bit by bit.
So, turns out my brain did want to go 50 MPH and make these longer than planned! Yay-
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weelittleweasley · 3 years
Text
Amnesia (p2) | Draco x Reader
If you have not read part one, you can find it here!!
Prompt: After proper diagnosis and treatment, your Healer informs you that your amnesia has effected your most recent memories. These memories include your life as a upperclassman at Hogwarts, your knowledge and skills, and arguable the most important thing to you: your relationship with Draco. When Draco hears of your condition, he is overwhelmed and scared to say the least. You two are now strangers. What happens in Part Two of this multipart series?
Warnings: memory loss, nightmares, PTSD, anxiety, mentions of death
Word Count: 6.3k
A/N: This part is a slow burn, but just trust me. Shit will hit the fan soon.
This story is not about romanticizing mental health issues. These are serious conditions and this story is not meant to romanticize or fantasize these topics. It’s used as a vessel to convey a different story. That being said, please take care of yourself and sending everyone lots of love. Thank you for coming back for part two :) 
Flashbacks told in italics!
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Draco watched you from the window that saw into your hospital room, his nerves and terror eating away inside of him. How was he supposed to keep calm when the love of his life almost died days ago and now does not remember a single detail of their relationship? He ran his hands through his matted platinum blonde hair before covering his face and letting out a sigh that was full of mixed emotions. He was going to fall apart in seconds if it were for your Healer passing by, so he could ask him questions about your recovery.
“So her memory is gone?” he frantically asks, pleading that the answer is no. That would just mean so much time and love and energy that you both had put into this relationship was being washed down the drain. 
The Healer places a firm, yet reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Not gone,” he speaks as Draco lets out a breath he was holding. “Temporarily lost you can say. Her memories can come back to her in random spurts or all at once. The brain is very complicated and everyone reacts differently. It could take anywhere from two days to two weeks for her to remember. There are rare cases, but it is possible, that it could be a few months for her to recover,” the Healer tells Draco as Draco swallows hard.
If it was going to take you months to remember your relationship with Draco, the boy would go mad. He needed you to remember who he was and what your relationship was like so you could both move on and live the life you had planned when you were students at Hogwarts weeks before. Draco dreamt of what it would be like when you two finally got away from the chaos. He pictured you two settling down somewhere remote, in a cottage somewhere in the countryside, maybe out of England. He pictured you having a lot of land, somewhere you could both enjoy nature and its scenic views. He imagined you with your beaming smile in one of your favorite sundresses, laying in the grass, reading a book whilst you laid your head in his lap. He would stroke your hair and watching you crinkle your nose as you laughed at something he said, him relishing in the regality of your beauty. He felt unworthy to look at something so rare and so beautifully genuine. 
Draco snaps back into reality from his daydream and speaks, “Are you sure there isn’t a charm or spell of some sort that you could use to jog her memory? Do muggles have something that you could possibly use?” Draco was desperate for an answer, a sign, a solution, something.
The Healer just smiles lightly and shakes his head. “If there was, my boy, we would have used it,” he tells him. “I’m sorry you two are going through this. I can imagine it is hard for you, but just imagine how difficult it is for her. The best thing you can do for her right now is be there for her. When she remembers, I have no doubt that your relationship will be stronger than ever.”
-------
And so Draco was there for you. Even though visitor’s hours were over, Draco stayed in the waiting room in case anything happened. Not even your parents did this. Your parents went home and told you they would be back in the morning, confident that you were in good hands with the Healers. Draco could never be too sure. You could remember him overnight and desperately need him. You could remember something about Hogwarts and need answers, to which he would be right at your side. So in the waiting room he stayed, waiting in case you needed anything. 
The ex-Slytherin prince was exhausted to say the least. He hadn’t slept since the battle, too afraid to close his eyes and see what his mind conjured. He feared he would see the eyes of his father, burning into him full of anger and disgust; his only child, his only son, betraying the family to run off with some girl. Draco feared he would see the eyes of the Dark Lord although he was dead, he feared he would find his way into Draco’s mind and into his dreams. Draco didn’t even want to think about if he saw his mother in his dreams. How he abandoned her, leaving her alone to her own devices. Worst of all, Draco knew that in his nightmares he would see you, getting hurt, pulled away from him as he clawed at his father to let him go. Draco knew he would see your limp body, bloody and frail as they carried you away to a medic. He couldn’t face his dreams; they were far too scarier than his reality.
Exhaustion pulsated throughout your body before your heavy eyelids fell, you immediately falling asleep with the help of the pain potion given to you. Today was overwhelming for you; too much has happened for your brain to process adequately. You were relieved to see your parents and Ron and Hermione, but now your diagnosis and this whole Draco situation just made things worse than you had expected. How could you just forget a whole relationship with someone that had lasted almost two years? It just didn’t seem or feel real.
You were peacefully asleep, but that’s when your dreams started for the night. Although your body was at peace, your mind raced. In your dreams, you saw flashes of fire, the screams of people echoing in the halls. Stones and rubble were all around you, bodies, dead and alive, all around. Panic entered your veins as you felt your heart sink. You’re running as fast as your legs can allow you. The taste of iron is in your mouth as you scream, your lungs burning and hot tears running down your face. You’re screaming for someone, but the words don’t come out. It’s just a scream. Chaos is growing around you as see people who you once knew die before you in the matter of seconds. Somehow you cannot control yourself in your dream as you try to run over to your friends in need, but your legs are planted. You have become stone. You see Ron from across the hall and you want to run to him, knowing that he’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from whatever was happening. 
But before you can run to Ron, your body pulls you in the opposite direction. You want to call out for Ron, but his name doesn’t come out. Instead, your screaming something else, but you can’t make out what. Before you can even register where you are going, you look above you and see a large boulder, making its way down to crash down on you. 
And that’s when you scream. The sound is rippling through your body as you sit up straight in your bed, eyes darting open. You stop screaming when you realize it was all a dream, a nightmare rather. Why did it all feel real? The pain in your head is creeping back up as your brain throbs as you catch your breath. Your heart is beating through your chest as sweat slowly drips down your temples. Hot and cold flashes ripple through your body as you clinch onto the white hospital sheets for dear life. Frantically, you look around the room to see if anyone was around you to come to your rescue. Were your parents still here? Ron? Anyone?
In that instant, the door flings open and there was the boy you were supposed to be in love with, his blonde hair pushed in front of his face, a panicked look in his eyes.
When Draco heard the scream, he knew it was you in an instant. He could recognize your voice easily, whether it was in joy or in pain. Draco knew you better than he knew himself. His heart sunk to his stomach at your cry and he leaped to his feet. The worst thoughts came to his mind, thinking that something awful had happened to you. Did someone come into your room and try to attack you? Was he not dead? Was it his father? 
Before he could answer any of these questions, he had practically knocked the door down just to see you sitting up straight in bed, your face covered in panic, horror, and sadness. The sight was gut wrenching. Draco wanted to run to your side, pepper your face in kisses, stroke your hair with his fingers, and tell you that he was right beside you and going nowhere; he would be there to protect you. But instead of doing so, in fear of frightening you more in your vulnerable moment, he just makes his presence known.
“Are you alright?” he asks, gently and slowly, still half standing in the doorway, half in the room in case you asked him to leave.
You take a look at the boy in front of you and wondered why he was still here in the first place. It was the middle of the night; not even your parents were here. Why did a boy you barely knew decide to stay here overnight? You don’t entertain the thought any further. “Bad dream,” you simply tell him, rubbing your eyes. 
Draco understood, there was no need to ask you any further questions. He knew that you needed time and space. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm you further.
Out of curiosity, you ask him, “What are you still doing here? It’s late.”
Draco sighs, “Uh, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. That if you needed anything someone would be here for you. Besides, I don’t have anywhere to go...” he trails off the last sentence sadly. He ran away from his mother, there was no home for Draco right now. He was alone. And without you? He was more alone than ever before.
You both look at each other for a few moments, breathing the moment in through your nose and out of your mouths. You took the time to really take a good look at Draco. He looked exhausted; heavy bags under his eyes that pulled all the way down to the tops of his cheekbones. His hair flopped lazily in front of his face. As sad as he looked, there was something almost angelic about him in this moment. The medic lights that flickered over his head dully almost made a halo above his head as he stared upon you with the most loving, sad expression you have ever seen. You could see how a previous version of yourself fell in love. He was undeniably handsome and there was something that was absolutely magnetic about him. You wanted to be around him for some reason. 
Draco interrupts your thoughts, “I’ll be just outside if you need me.” 
He tries to slither out of the door before you stop him, not even register what you are saying until the words fall out of your mouth.
“Stay with me,” you call to him, rather than asking him like you would have preferred. 
He stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, a confused expression on his face. Did you remember him? Was this your way of telling him? 
You inhale, “I just don’t want to be alone.” It was true, you didn’t want to be alone again with you and your nightmares in fear it would attack again when you closed your eyes. “My dreams are scary,” you confess. “They seem real.”
In that moment Draco knew that the dreams you were having weren’t really dreams; they were flashbacks. He had them too when he closed his eyes. Draco knew exactly what you saw and there was no need to explain. He was just happy that you asked him to stay with you. “Of course,” he gives you a small smile, preventing a larger one from appearing on his tired face.
Draco slowly closes the door behind him before making his way to the chair near your bedside. He sits in the chair slowly and offers you a small smile. You return one to him with a small sigh. You wanted to go to sleep, but also were afraid of what you would see again. Would you dream of the same thing again? Or something worse? Would this happen all the time? 
You watch the ceiling for a few moments before speaking to Draco, “I’m afraid of closing my eyes.” You turn to him to watch his reaction and he gives you a sympathetic look.
“I am, too,” he confesses. “I see old memories that replay in my head. Horrible things. Things I did, things I bore witness to, things I tried to stop...” he looks at you sadly. It was like you both understood where the other came from. There was an unspeakable understanding that just reassured the other that they were not alone. Although you don’t remember much of Malfoy besides the limited encounters with him, you can’t help but feel bad for him. He had obviously been fighting something and you wished that it would leave him alone. “Did you want to talk about what you saw?” he asked you. You shook your head and he gave you a smile. “That’s alright. You should try and fall asleep at least. You are in recovery from a nasty injury, let’s not forget that,” he teases as you smile. He loved your smile. 
You lay back a little further in your bed relaxing. “Malfoy?” you ask as Draco’s ears perk up to his name being dropped from your lips. “Were we in love?” you ask, surprising him and yourself. But if you were going to remember the boy, you had to know if you loved him. 
Draco thought to himself, Were we in love? As much as I breathe. But he doesn’t say that. “We were,” he smiles lightly at the memory when you would look at him with love glistening in your eyes, brushing his hair with your fingers as he would pull you in close by your hips, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. The boy loved you with every fiber in his being. “Madly,” he adds with a laugh. 
As he says that, your curiosity peaks. You two must have had a beautiful relationship if he claimed you were madly in love. That was not a light statement. Without further consideration, you ask him, “Can you tell me the story? Of how we fell in love?” Draco’s eyes widen when he looks at you. “It’ll help jog my memory...I also just want to know,” you tease, making him laugh. His laugh made goosebumps appear on your forearms.
Where to start, Draco thinks. He could tell you about the story of the moment he knew that he wanted to make you his, your first date, when he asked you to be his girlfriend, the moment he told you that he loved you for the first time. There were so many good memories that he had of the two of you, it was hard to choose just one. “How about this,” he proposes, “I’ll start wherever you don’t remember. With each day, I’ll tell you a new story.”
His proposition made you smile. It seemed promising. “How do I know I’ll see you every day for a new story?” you ask, raising your brows.
Your expression made Draco smile. That teasing little smile that played on your lips was one he was so fond of. “I’ll make sure of it. That’s a promise,” he tells you. “Pinky promise.” He sticks out his left pinky finger as you loop yours with his, squeezing it. Instinctively, you kiss your thumb and Draco does the same. Your eyes widen, shocked that he did the same thing as you. You would kiss your thumb after a pinky promise ever since you were a child with your mum. As if he read your thoughts, Draco said, “I remember a lot of things, (Y/N). We also used to do that a lot.”
His words bring a smile to your face as you let go and giggle at the boy in the chair. “Alright, let me think,” you state. You scan your memory for what you remember of Draco. You remember meeting him that first night you arrived to Hogwarts when he made fun of you of being friends with Ron, you remember him teasing you in your charms class because you came to class with bedhead, running late, you remember sitting next to him at the Triwizard Tournament and stomping on his foot when he said he wished the dragon got Harry, you remember when Umbridge busted you and your friends for learning defensive magic and Draco being the first person you saw when you exited the room of requirement. “The last thing I remember was when Umbridge busted Harry and all of us for learning defensive magic behind her back. You were there and you made a comment at me. I remember being mad about it and you stood a smirked at me,” you push his arm.
Draco laughs, “Sounds about right.” You roll your eyes, turning your body gently to face Draco before he began the story. Draco had to stop himself from getting distracted at the way you looked at him, excitement in your eyes as he started his story. Your wispy pieces of hair floated over your head like a fuzzy halo, his heart fluttered at the sight. Merlin, I love you, he thought to himself. “Alright, let’s see,” he starts.
After being busted by Umbridge, you were under high surveillance. Not much to do for fun around Hogwarts anymore. No more gatherings after a certain time, no common room study sessions, the library closed after a particular hour, and not to mention boys and girls had to be separated by 8 feet. How was anyone supposed to have fun outside of academia anymore? Even Hermione belly ached about how bored she was. 
You should have expected your secret meetings to have been busted. When you heard that Umbridge had rodeoed a select few students to be on a watch patrol, you knew that their leader, Draco Malfoy, would go to the ends of the Earth if it meant busting Harry Potter. You wondered if the boy really found joy in being a dickhead to people. Although the conversations you had with Draco were limited, you could tell that some of it was a show that he put on for his other Slytherin friends. It’s like they expected him to be an arse before they even met him. Regardless, the point was that Draco was always blunt and rude around you and his company was not your preferred company.
In the library, there you were, sat at a small table during your off period, scribbling some answers down to some last minute Potions homework that you knew if you didn’t get done, Snape would have your head on a silver plate. As you scribble down your answers in a frantic fury, you don’t even notice Malfoy enter the library, his sightline going straight to you. He smiled when he saw you sitting at the table, immersed in your work, hands pulling at your own hair gently. You were a sight for sore eyes. Draco always took notice of you at Hogwarts, he just never made a move because you never left the damned Gryffindor common room. 
You didn’t even notice Draco in front of you until he hovered above you, startling you. “Merlin, Malfoy,” you jump. “What do you want? And stay eight feet away, you git. I don’t need to get into more trouble with Umbridge. You have already done enough damage,” you sneer at him.
Draco thought it was adorable when you were cross. “I came to ask you out,” he simply states. He doesn’t explain himself further. He just sits beside you at the table in the library, a smug grin on his face like you said yes to his proposition.
“What makes you think that I would want to go out with someone like you,” venom drips from your cherry flavored lips as Draco smirks. Your words did nothing to him. Oh, how that would change very quickly. “You’ve been nothing but cruel to me and my friends and now, all of a sudden you want to ask me on a date? You’re out of your bloody mind.” You continue to finish your Potions homework before Draco plucks the textbook from underneath you.
Before you can protest to his actions, he speaks, “Someone like me? And what would that be? Handsome, charming, intelligent, and funny? Sounds like a real bore,” he jokes. Merlin, he had a big head. “Not to mention, this hasn’t come all of a sudden. I’ve had my eyes on you for a while, (Y/L/N). I just haven’t mustered up the courage to ask you out properly. So here I am,” he leans on his elbow on the table, a shit eating grin on his face that you would love to smack off. “I need an answer, darling. Or else Professor Snape’s homework will just have to wait...”
You roll your eyes, “The answer you’re looking for is not the one you desire. Besides, even if I said yes, what would we even do? It’s not like we have any freedom here. We’re under constant watch.”
Draco laughs at your naiveté. “I thought you were brighter than this, (Y/L/N). I have my tricks. You can get away with a lot when you’re a Malfoy,” he pushes a strand of hair out of your face as he said this, you slapping it away as he does so. “Play nice,” he teases. “Your homework is on the line.”
Anger bubbled in your stomach, but for some reason his argument seemed to be compelling. What did he have planned? “What exactly are you thinking of doing, Malfoy?” you lean in, teasing him further as he smiles, thinking he’s won. Instead, you just pluck your textbook back from his hands, smiling as you do so. You beat him at his own game. This just made the boy more enthralled with you. 
“Ah, that’s for me to know and you to find out, darling,” he speaks. “So, I take it you’re interested?” he asks, wiggling his brows.
You really hated to admit that you were interested in his offer, curiosity getting the best of you, as it usually did. You huff, brush your hair to one side. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” you admit, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. This was so unlike you.
Draco let a chuckle escape from his lips. “Brilliant. 7pm. Stay in the Gryffindor common room. I’ll come to you. I’ll see you then, kitten,” he purrs, leaving just as quickly as he came.
As Draco wraps up the story, you stare in disbelief. “There was no way I fell for that line,” you tell him, sitting up from your position in your hospital bed. “I really said yes to that cheese ball line?”
“How could you not?” he retorts. “I’m suave,” he jokes, making you laugh as you threw your head back. The sight of you laughing was enough to melt every single one of Draco’s fears. The way your nose crinkled as you laugh, your eyes squeezed shut, melodious laughter falling from your parted lips. “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he tells you, unable to hold back his thoughts. That was Draco’s weakness. He could never lie to you. He always told you what he was thinking. It was his best quality and yet his downfall. 
His compliment makes you blush and look away from him. You weren’t uncomfortable from the comment, but you were just taken aback. Draco was someone who you barely remembered, yet you had such visceral reactions when you were with him. He brought you confusion and comfort that was oddly satisfying. You decide to change the subject. “So tell me about our first date. What did you end up doing that was so spectacular that make me stay?” you ask through a large yawn.
Draco smiles as you cover your mouth, you were obviously exhausted. “I said one story a day, you sneak,” he smiles at you. “Besides, I don’t think you would be awake for the most of it. You look exhausted. I think you should get some rest,” he rises from the chair. He was right. You were even more exhausted than you were before. You pull the covers back over your body, cuddling into the thin sheets. Draco watches as you get settled in your bed, gently smiling at how you pulled the sheet all the way up to your chin like you always did before bed. He remembers how you would always sneak into his bed at Hogwarts; you always preferred his silk sheets to your cotton ones. “Sweet dreams, (Y/N).”
The platinum blonde boy walks to the door before a thought intrudes your mind. What was the harm in speaking it? “Draco?” you call his name cautiously. He turns around to face you, eyebrows raised. You slowly pull the sheets open. “Do you wanna sleep next to me?” you ask slowly, treading lightly. You gave him the offer mostly because you felt bad about him having to sleep in a hospital waiting room until morning. Those chairs were wildly uncomfortable and no one should be forced to sleep there by themselves. But there was part of you that wanted Draco with you. There was an aura about him that reminded you of home. The way he could make you smile with just a dumb sentence was comforting. He felt familiar; like you could remember some pieces of him. Maybe if he stayed with you tonight, all the memories would come back. Maybe his touch would awaken something in you.
At the offer, Draco wanted to scream yes and climb into bed with you, snuggled next to your side, breathing in your all too familiar scent. But he didn’t want to overwhelm you. He had to tread lightly, make sure that you were comfortable. “Are you sure?” he asks, genuinely wanting to know if that was alright. “I can just stay in the waiting room, it really is no problem.”
You shake your head. “I’m positive...I want you to stay with me,” you tell him. “I could be rushing it or I could be crazy, but I think that maybe you staying with me might be helpful...for my memory.”
How could Draco argue with that logic? He smiled and closed the door, trying to hide his excitement. He took off his patent leather shoes and peeling off his blazer, getting himself comfortable before climbing next to you in bed. The hospital bed was arguable just as uncomfortable as the waiting room chairs in Draco’s opinion, but you in bed with him made it all better. Draco slid one arm carefully around your shoulder as to not disturb any painful areas. Although the gesture should have been romantic or comforting, it just felt awkward. 
You both just laid there for a moment, awkwardly laying before you give in to his touch, resting your head on his chest. Within an instant, the two of you let out a breath that you were holding in, melting into each other’s touch. This position of you resting on his chest, hearing his heartbeat made something inside you click. It did feel familiar. Something about it was familiar. 
The two of you don’t speak any words to each other. You both lay there, waiting for the other to say something. But no one says anything. What is there to be said? You allow yourself to slowly fall asleep to the slow drum of Draco’s heartbeat in your ear through his chest as Draco follows only after you are sound asleep. He knew that he could sleep once you were.
-----
As you drift back off into sleep, another dream kicks back in. This one not nearly as horrifying as the last. In fact, it was quite endearing. You aren’t at Hogwarts. You’re somewhere else. Someone’s home. It’s not yours, that’s for sure. The house was smaller, but had a large winding staircase. It isn’t until you hear multiple voices in your head that you instantly recognize where you are. It was undeniably the Burrow. Weasley’s. A smile forms on your face when you recognize your surroundings. 
In this dream of a memory, it’s Christmas time. Molly Weasley in the kitchen, cooking, something delicious smelling of sage and rosemary. Fred and George are in the backyard, building what looks like a fort of some kind, their efforts failing miserably when Ginny runs into the fort, causing it to fall down. A giggle escapes your lips.
You walk further around the house and recognize it more and more with every step. The Weasley home felt like a second home to you. So much so that Molly knew how to cook your eggs and knew the difference between yours and Ginny’s uniforms and Arthur had put a coat hanger in the side hall for you when you were over. You were here almost as often as your own childhood home. Your parents travelled a lot for work and you spent Christmas at Burrow maybe two or three times. This year was undeniably when you were in year four with Ron. You know it to be so because of Ron’s horrid haircut that you teased him about that whole year. 
As if one cue, Ron appears and pulls you to the other room and suddenly you are on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. Ron is telling you about a prank that George had planted in Percy’s room for when he came home. You have the feeling of undeniable joy in your chest and your cheeks hurt from smiling. Have you ever had this feeling before? The two of you were laughing at the other and expressing your joy and excitement for the holiday, focusing on the company of the other. You loved spending Christmas with the Weasleys because you knew that you would have more time to bond with Ron. Ron was your first friend at Hogwarts and he was the one who introduced you to Hermione and Harry. Ron was the one to push you to go after what you wanted. Ron was your best friend and other half. Undeniably. 
In this dream, Ron looks at you in your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face and says, “I am so glad you’re here for Christmas. It makes things so much better.” He pulls you into a tight hug and kisses your forehead. “I love you.”
Before you can process the words, you speak out, “I love you more, Weasley.”
Your eyes shoot open and you slowly sit up. You were all kinds of confused. Ron Weasley? He was your best friend, sure, but the feeling you got during the dream was not one that a best friend should have. Your face was flushed, cheeks a bright shade of red. Were you blushing? Your heart beat was racing and your mouth was dry. The image of Ron smiling at you, his arm around your shoulder sticks out in your mind. Him saying I love you plays on repeat like a broken record. What was happening? This went against everything you knew and what people told you you were supposed to feel? Ron wasn’t your boyfriend; Draco was. 
Draco.
You look next to you to see Draco still peacefully asleep, lips parting that allowed light snores to escape. His arm was still draped around your figure which you once found comforting, but now you found alarming. Careful not to wake him up, you peel his arm from around you and onto his lap. His touch now was now foreign. How did this all take a 360 within a few hours?
Casting the thoughts out of your brain, you turn over to the other side of the small bed, back to Draco, trying to fall back asleep, hoping that Draco didn’t notice the change of position. You let your heavy eyelids bring you to sleep, but unbeknownst to you, Draco does notice that you are no longer peacefully asleep on his chest. But he doesn’t say anything. Disappointed, he just takes note of it and closes his eyes, but he can’t fall asleep.
-------
The morning light streams in just as quickly as it left and gently wakes you up. The light hurts your head and makes you wince in pain, softly clutching your head. You sit up slowly and rub your eyes with the heel of your free hand, trying to rid the sleep from your eyes. As you let your eyes focus again, you see Draco is sitting in the chair beside your bed like he was like night, trying his shoes. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he smiles at you. You let out a groggy morning. “The Healer left you another pain potion for this morning. He said to take it as soon as you wake up and then you are good to be discharged and go home,” Draco reports.
The thought of going home made you excited, but nervous. Home was always nice and being your parents at a time like this was definitely something you needed. However, your childhood home didn’t feel like much of a home after your time at Hogwarts, especially since your parents were always traveling and were rarely home even on holidays. If anything, home meant going back to Hogwarts or alternatively going back to the Burrow with the Weasleys...
Shaking your head, you return yourself to the current conversation. “Sounds great,” you smile and take the pain potion from off the nightstand, drinking from the small vile, contorting your face in disgust after, the fowl taste lingering on your tongue. Draco laughs as you do so. “I hate the taste,” you blush, wiping your mouth. “Are my parents here to pick me up?” you ask Draco.
“I’m not sure,” he says. “I can check with the Healer and see if your parents called or not. If not, I can always take you home. I have no problem seeing that you get back safely,” he offers with a gentle smile as you nod. “Great,” he breathes out. “Let me check for you.”
Draco moves to the door and opens it up only to reveal Ron Weasley standing there, fresh eyed and with a small smile on his face that fades when his eyes land on Draco’s. “Weasley,” Draco greets. “I was just going to grab the Healer. (Y/N)’s been discharged.”
Ron shakes his head, “I know. I’m here to pick her up.” Ron glances to you and smiles before sending you a wink. Your heart stops in your chest and your eyes widen. Something that was a friendly gesture between you and Ron now has new meaning after last night’s dream/memory. What was going on?
Interrupting your thoughts, Draco looks to Ron and says, “You’re picking up, (Y/N)? Where are her parents?”
“Is there a problem with me picking (Y/N) up? I’m her best mate after all. Plus, her parents asked me if I could whilst they dealt with preparing her room and treatments for her arrival home,” Ron pushes past Draco and straight to you. “Morning, darling. I have fresh clothes for you and your mum is making breakfast for you back at your house. Ready?”
You look back and forth between Ron and Draco and the tension between the two is palpable. You thought that Draco and Harry had problems? This was another level. “Um, yeah, I guess so,” you reply to Ron while looking at Draco who shakes his head, understanding completely. Your parents had sent Ron for you. You didn’t need Draco. Draco just gives you a small smile before walking to the door. “Wait, Draco,” you call for him like you did last night. “I’ll see you again, right? You owe me a story,” you gently smile.
Draco lets a pink hue reach his cheeks. “You’ll see me again, darling. I promise,” he tells you. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, this directed toward Ron this time. “Until then, love,” he winks at you before walking out of the room and down the hospital corridor.
Of course, Draco wished he could be the one taking you home from the hospital. He wanted to be with you every step of the way on your recovery. Draco wanted to hold your hand and guide you through every bump in the road. But if this is what you wanted, he had to respect that. He would have his time. He was sure of it. You would come around.
Meanwhile, you changed in the bathroom into the fresh clothes Ron had brought with him. The soft cotton of your clothes made you sigh in relief, it was so much better than that itchy hospital gown. You emerge from the bathroom, straightening out your hoodie before breathing out, “Let’s go home.”
“Brilliant,” Ron beams, guiding you out of the room, his hand on the small of your back. The action makes you gasp a little bit, but you eventually relax and calm yourself down. It’s a friendly thing, (Y/N). Merlin.
The two of you exit in the hospital, leaving behind all of your fears and worries, ready to face whatever obstacle with a newfound confidence. As you climb into the car, Ron starts it and drives away from the hospital, the radio playing whatever muggle music the channel had to offer. The car ride is mostly quiet except for a few exchanges, but that’s when you notice Ron isn’t taking you back to your childhood home. Rather, you are going somewhere else.
“Ronald Weasley,” you furrow your brows. “This isn’t the way home to my parent’s house...where are you taking me?”
Ron doesn’t hide the cheeky grin from his face. “We’re going home alright,” he laughs. “Just my house.”
The Burrow. Merlin, help you.
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softholand · 3 years
Text
drunk words, sober thoughts - t.h
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pairing: tom holland x reader
warnings: alcohol, swearing, sexual themes, lap dance, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, smut
word count: 4k
a/n: it’s here, my first ever smut, go easy on me, i’m fucking nervous!!!! i wanna thank @missevrythingg for helping me, i wouldn’t dave done it without you, i love you ray 💖 i really hope you guys enjoy!! i also made a playlist for this fic, it really sets the mood for it!! again, english in not my first language so there’s probably some mistakes/typos, just pretend you didn’t see it! ;) oh and please, do let me know what you guys think, it really helps! i love you all, happy reading! 💓
It had been a long time since Tom last saw you. Between his acting career and your college scholarship in Canada, you guys barely kept contact for the last year. That’s why, when you finally came back home, he decided to throw you a surprise birthday party.
Sam was responsible to bring you to the club Tom had rented for the night, with the excuse that the place had just opened and it was a success already. He told you to get dressed and since Tom’s car was already full of people, he offered you a drive, which you gladly accepted.
Music was blasting from the nightclub when Sam parked his car near the entrance of the building, making you even more excited to be celebrating your birthday with your childhood friends. It wasn’t until you stepped foot in the club and saw all your friends with a giant banner on top of their heads saying “Happy 21st Birthday, y/n!” that you realized the party was, in fact, for you.
Sam was the first to hug you and wish you a happy birthday, but from the corner of your eye, you saw Tom approaching you with a smirk the size of the place on his face, making you sure it was his idea.
“Surprise!” He whispered in your ear as soon as he wrapped his arms around you. “You little shit!” That was the only thing you could say upon realizing he was, in fact, the mastermind behind all of this.
“Oh, c’mon, it’s your 21st birthday, I had to!” Tom stated, making you roll your eyes. “No, you didn’t! But thank you!” You answered, giving your friend another hug.
The rest of the boys greeted you, all wishing you a happy birthday, which you thanked, hugging each one. Suddenly you saw Cara, one of your friends from high school that had unfortunately moved to Australia and you hadn’t seen her since.
“No, you didn’t!” You screamed, making direct eye contact with Tom. “I did it!” He stated, making your smile grow even wider. Without wasting time, you run to your friend, hugging her like she was going to disappear at any minute.
“I can’t believe you’re here! I missed you!” You said, smiling so much that your cheeks hurt. “I missed you too, y/n/n! And yeah, I couldn’t believe either when Tom Holland contacted me, wanting to bring me to England!” She said, making both of you laugh.
Once you had greeted all of your friends, Tom went to the stage with a microphone, shouting “It’s time to party!” at the top of his lungs, making everyone scream and celebrate. “Crazy In Love” started to play as soon as he left the stage and that was only the beginning. Tom knew your obsession with old pop, so throughout the night, he made sure the DJ played all your favorites.
Between the bar special drinks and tequila shots, you lost track of time and were now dancing “I’m A Slave 4 You” with your girlfriends. The song blasted from the speakers, the alcohol in your system making you lose control of your own body. Cara still remembered some of the choreography of the song, from when you two were kids and used to learn all of Britney Spears's music videos, and so practically obliged you to do it with her.
Tom, Harrison, Tuwaine, Harry, and Sam were sitting in one of the dark red booths at the back of the club, with beers in hands, watching as you and Cara gave a show to everyone present.
“When did y/n get so hot?” Harry was the first to point out, making his twin brother chuckle. “While she was in Canada, apparently!” Tuwaine shrugged, gulping the icy liquid in his hands.
“Tom, you better close your mouth, you’re going to catch flies!” Harrison teased his friend, earning him a deadly glare. “Fuck off!” Tom shoved him, before going back to admiring how your body moved perfectly to the music.
When the first notes of “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll” started, your drunk body made its way into the stage, grabbing the microphone, ready to lip-sync another one of your favorites songs. Your friends all gathered at the front of the stage, screaming and encouraging you to keep going. You still remembered Britney’s classic performance and so, you tried your best to copy her movements, just like in the music video.
Screams filled the crowded space of the nightclub while you pretended to sing the song. Cara and another one of your friends joined you on the stage, pretending to be your back singers. The boys observed you while you played with the microphone cord, twisting it on your finger. What they didn’t expect was for you to get on your knees, continuing the, rather sexy, performance on the stage floor.
“Holy shit!” Harrison exclaimed, not drawing the attention of his friends, who were busy watching you. “Should we do something?” Asked Sam, clearly concerned by your, rather drunk, actions. “Yeah, get closer!” His twin brother answered, getting off the booth and making his way to the stage, quickly being followed by the others.
When your eyes caught Tom’s brown (and lusty) ones, you made a point of getting close and teasing him by playing with his hair, which made everyone else lose their minds over it. When the song ended, he helped you get out of the stage while your friends applauded, praising you for the performance.
“Need some help there, love?” Tom asked, securing you in his arms when your legs felt like jelly. “Nope! I’m goooood!” You answered, extending the o’s, completely out of your mind.
“I see! Maybe you should slow down the drinks?” You knew Tom was just trying to help you, but being in your embriagate state, you just shushed him, putting a finger on his lips. “I have a better idea, what if... we did more shots?” You shouted, getting out of his embrace and making your way to the bar.
A couple more hours had passed and unfortunately, the party was coming to an end. Some of your guests had already left, but the ones that stayed were left on the dancing floor, with not so much energy as before.
But everything changed when “Dance for You” by Beyoncé started to play, you didn’t know how but a chair appeared in the middle of the dancing floor, completely out of nowhere. You immediately understood what whoever put that chair there wanted and if you haven’t before, your friends shouting “lap dance” had also made it very clear.
As intoxicated as you were, you knew exactly who you wanted on that chair. Seductively, you made your way to Tom, making grabby hands once you were in front of him. The screams only increased when he accepted your invitation without so much of a protest.
Making your way to the chair, you made Tom sit, going around it and putting your hands on his shoulders. To be completely honest, you had no idea what you were even doing. You never gave a lap dance before, so this was new territory for you. But your friend's screams and Tom’s lusty eyes gave you all the encouragement you needed.
Your hands explored every inch of his body, through his chest, abs, neck, shoulders, what your hands could reach, you were touching, always making sure to get close to his ear and tease him as best as you could.
You used the music to your advantage, moving your body to the beats, making sure to emphasize your hips. When you finally sat on his lap, it was like the end of a war, everyone was celebrating, screams and whistles could be heard even with the loud music.
Tom didn’t know what to do, he just awkwardly sat there, with his hands by his sides, dying to touch you. His wishes came true when you finally took his hands, putting them on your waist, where they stayed glued to your body. You continued your performance, grinding, swirling, doing all the things you knew about lap dance and by Tom’s reactions, you seemed to be doing a really good job. His eyes were on your body all the time but they seemed different, now dark shades of brown, almost black, covered his once hazel irises.
The song was, unfortunately, coming to an end, and to finish your show, you properly took a seat in Tom’s lap, straddling his waist, and this time, you could feel how much he was enjoying your performance. With the position, your already revealing dress left nothing to the imagination, and locking your eyes with his, you saw nothing but lust and desire, very different things that you used to see in your friend's stare.
You leaned in and he did too, and once your faces were only millimeters away, you suddenly lost all the courage on your body and pulled away, burying your face into his neck instead. Next thing you know, you were being helped into Tom’s car while your friends discussed where you were gonna spend the night.
“I can’t bring her home like that, her parents are going to kill me!” You heard Tom say. “Well, let’s take her to our place then! We can send them a text saying she’s staying with us.” Sam offered and the rest of the group seemed to agree since you didn’t hear any more discussion.
You must have blacked out again because suddenly you were being put in a bed. “Where am I?” You asked, feeling your throat dry. “You’re at my house, darling! It’s okay, you can sleep now!” You heard Tom’s voice but couldn’t find him with your blurred vision. “No, I don’t wanna sleep!” You protested, sounding like a three-year-old, which Tom chuckled.
“What do you wanna do then?” He pushed, and you felt a weight on the bed. “I can think of some things…” You whispered, passing your fingers through his shirt, feeling his hard abs underneath your palms. “y/n, you’re drunk!” Tom tried warning, earning him a scoff. “You are too!” You mocked, really sounding like a child now.
“Yeah, and that’s why we’re not gonna do anything that we may regret tomorrow.” He said, taking your hand in his. “Nooo, I want you!” At this stage, your mouth had a mind of its own because you couldn’t even process the things you were saying and that was one of them.
“I’m sorry, darling! We can talk about this tomorrow when we’re both sober. Okay?” Tom was trying. He was trying so hard to not give in to your pressure, you were practically begging him to sleep with you. But no, he couldn’t. You were both drunk and this type of decision shouldn’t be made under the influence of alcohol.
“You’re no fun!” You complained, earning another chuckle from him. “Yeah, yeah! You’re gonna thank me tomorrow!” He told you and once you didn’t respond anymore, he realized that you had fallen asleep.
He then took off your shoes, your makeup with one of his spare makeup remover wipes and exchanged your dress for one of his old shirts, making you the most comfortable he possibly could, since he knew you were going to have a pretty bad hangover the next day.
Oh, the next day. You woke up feeling like the whole world was spinning, you felt nauseous, your head was pounding and you smelled like alcohol. Opening your eyes, you saw a bottle of water and some painkillers by your side, which you were quick to chug all down.
“Good morning, birthday girl!” Harrison’s voice was like a hammer to your already sore head. “Please, don’t! I’m dying!” You pleaded, laying down again.
“Oh, c’mon! Wore yourself out yesterday?” Harry’s voice came out of nowhere, but you were too tired to further investigate. “How bad was it?” You asked, actually scared of the answer.
“You know… the normal! You drank, danced, drank more, did a lip sync of a Britney Spears song, drank some more…” Harrison started to point out, making you groan and hide your face in the covers.
“Wait, wait, wait! I’m in Tom’s bed, wearing only one of his shirts… Does that mean we…?” you inquired, making the boys loudly groan. “y/n, c’mon! No, he slept on the couch!” Harry grunted, making a disgusted face.
“But you gave him a lap dance!” Sam’s voice startled you, making you jump on the bed.
“I did what?!!!!!!” You shouted, making the pounding in your head even worse. “I knew you weren’t going to remember so I recorded everything.” Harrison’s passed you his phone.
And just like he said, there you were, in Tom’s lap, with your tits practically in his mouth, while you danced and swirled your hips to a Beyoncé song. “No, no, no, no! Why did you guys let me do that?” You asked, completely perplexed with your actions.
“Well, you seemed to be enjoying it and it was your birthday party, we didn’t want to ruin your day,” Harry said, which earned him a death glare. “But my day is ruined! How am I supposed to face Tom now?!” You questioned, looking dumbfounded at your friends.
“Well, you better think about something because our families planned a brunch in a couple of hours,” Sam told you, matter of factly, making you loudly groan and slide even further under the covers.
Half an hour later, you were forced by your friends to get up, take a shower and get ready for brunch, since there was no way your parents would let you miss it, it was your birthday after all. With a simple summer dress, that you had laying around at the boy's place and sunglasses that were the size of your head, you made your way downstairs, where they were already waiting for you.
“Good morning!” Tuwaine’s deep voice startled you from his place on the couch, next to Tom, who you completely ignored. “Please, don’t!” You protested, feeling a hammer in your head every time you took a step.
Quickly, you made your way to the garage, not wanting to face Tom in any circumstances. Once he and the twins got into his car, Tom made his way to the restaurant where your families were already waiting.
To say the brunch was a complete disaster was an understatement. You were practically a zombie, the food at your plate made you want to throw up and the pain in your head was not ceasing. You could see Tom sneaking glances, trying to talk to you, but you looked away and dismissed him every time, you were just too embarrassed to even look at him.
When the torture was finally over, your parents asked if you wanted to come back home but you decided to stay with the boys, since you knew you had to talk to Tom at some point. The ride back was silent, only the sound of the radio could be heard and to be honest, the tension was starting to get you. Once Tom parked the car in front of the house, you and the twins were getting out when he stopped you.
“You can go ahead, I want to show y/n a place.” He said and you immediately looked at him with your brows raised, having no idea what he was talking about, but praying it didn’t have anything to do with last night's events.
Once the twins were out, you got into the passenger seat and Tom drove away, not even saying a word to you. The drive was short and just a couple of minutes after, he was pulling into an empty parking lot. Turning off the car, he put one of his arms behind the passenger seat, facing you completely.
“Oh, that’s it?” You asked, clearly confused with what was going on. “There wasn’t a place, y/n! I just wanted for us to be alone so we could talk.” Tom stated.
“Tom, let’s not…” You tried to brush off the conversation but he wasn’t having. “Yes, y/n! What’s going on? Why are you avoiding me?”
“Please, Tom! Don’t pretend nothing happened last night!” You rolled your eyes, still avoiding his gaze. “I’m not the one pretending here! You won’t even look me in the eye!” He huffed, getting tired of your behavior.
“I’m ashamed, okay?!!!” You screamed, losing your inner battle and finally looking at him. “God, the things I did to you last night were… awful!” You said, quickly averting his gaze.
“I wouldn’t use that word!” Tom smirked, making you roll your eyes and cross your arms. “Seriously, y/n! It’s not that serious!”
“It is to me, Tom! I’m not used to stuff like that!” You told him, getting tired of the conversation. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t thought about you like that!” The boy tells you.
“You what?” Looking back at him, you could see a giant smirk plastered on his face. “Oh, c’mon y/n! Don’t tell me you never thought about it?” Tom inquired, making you suddenly nervous.
“What? No! I mean… yeah, you’re… you’re hot but… no! Never like... that!” You tried your best to keep your voice steady and not give in to him but your stuttering made it clear you were failing.
“Really? That’s a shame! Because you looked stunning sitting on my lap last night. Made me think about so many things to do to you.” He whispered, very close to your ear, making you squirm on your sit.
“Tom…” You moaned, feeling his hot palm on your thigh. “What is it, y/n?” Tom asked, looking at you with eyes full of lust and desire, all for you. “Kiss me!” You begged and in seconds, his lips were on yours.
You were lying before, of course, you had already thought about Tom in more… sexual ways. The boy was practically a greek god, there was no way you couldn’t notice how his perfect six-pack showed even underneath his stupidity tight T-shirts. But nothing in this world could prepare you for the overwhelming sensation you felt when you kissed. It was like a fire ignited inside of your body and only he could help make it stop.
When the kisses weren't enough anymore, you tried to get into his lap, but the positions you were in prevented you from that. “Backseat?” He asked, breathing heavily. “Yes!” You desperately nodded.
In quick but awkward movements, you and Tom made your way to the backseat and he didn’t lose time by putting you in his lap, encouraging you to grind on his already hard bulge. “You’re so hot!” He breathed between kisses, making you grind even harder.
“Tom…” You moaned, putting one of your hands on his pants, teasing his still clothed cock, while the other stayed on his broad shoulders, steadying yourself. Moans filled the car once Tom put one of his hands on your core, already dripping wet. “God, look at you!” He praised, biting your bottom lip.
“Tom, please…” You pleaded, moving your hips faster, trying to get some relief. “What do you want, darling?” He murmured, putting your underwear to the side, coating his fingers with your slickness. “Fuck!” You cried out, begging him to keep touching you.
“It’s okay, I’m gonna take care of you!” Tom increased his movements and in seconds you were a mess on top of him, moans mixed with curse words left your mouth, making him even more eager for you. “Tom!” You moaned, taking his hand off of you when you were on the edge of your high, making him raise his brows.
“I wanna cum with you!” You whispered and at that moment, Tom felt completely intoxicated with you. Smirking, he fished a condom from his wallet, before taking his pants and boxers off. You wrapped your hand around his shaft, spreading his precum, feeling him twitch only with your touch.
Teasingly, you took the package out of his hands and opened it with your teeth, before sliding the latex material on his cock. “You know we don’t have to, right? I mean, I want to but if you don’t, that’s okay!” Tom let you know, and the look in his eyes told you he was telling nothing but the truth. “I know! But I want to!” You stated, making him smile before colliding his lips on yours.
One of Tom’s hands goes to your hip to guide you onto him as you hold your underwear to the side. Moans fill the car as you sink onto him, both of you at a loss of words with this new overwhelming sensation. “So fucking good!” You gasp, as Tom starts to help you move your hips up and down, increasing the speed with each move.
It doesn’t take long for you to be reaching your high but this time Tom will not let you escape. He presses one of his slender fingers on your clit, doing circular motions that drive you insane. “Tom, don’t stop… oh, fuck!” Your walls clench around him, as you feel your orgasm washing over in waves of pleasure.
“You good?” He asks with a cocky smirk after a few minutes of your racked breaths, making you want to slap it out of his face. “Not bad!” You tease him, quickly regretting your choice of words when he starts pounding into you with no mercy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You cried, closing your eyes with the amount of pleasure he’s giving you.
“What is it, darling? I can’t hear you!” It’s his turn to tease you and after a few minutes, you’re left moaning out his name again, like it’s the most blessed praying in the world. “y/n, fuck!” With the feeling of your body convulsing on top of him, Tom loses the battle and as he screams your name, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you, making you clench around him.
With heavy breaths and sore bodies, you and Tom stay glued to one another, in silence, enjoying the post-sex feeling. “God, we should have done this a long time ago!” Tom smirks, making you chuckle. “Absolutely!” You laugh, leaving a kiss on his swollen lips.
Once you two had cleaned up and Tom got rid of the used condom, he invited you for ice cream, and, to be honest, how could you deny it? The place he took you was like a unicorn dream, the walls were pink with colorful sprinkles painted on it. After you were both seated on a rainbow table, a waitress came offering you a smile, before taking your orders, chocolate fudge for you, vanilla bean for Tom.
“So…” He said, trying to start a conversation. “So…” You copied him, feeling suddenly aware of what you two had done. “I’m… you know what? I’m just gonna ask it! What we did before was just… sex for you?” Tom blurted out, making your whole body fill with anxiety.
“Oh, I… I don’t know. I mean, I was... hoping not?” You answered, using the courage still left on your body. “Yeah?” He smiled, seemingly relaxed with your choice of words. “Me too!” He completed, taking one of his hands in yours.
You smiled, feeling completely enamored with the boy sitting in front of you. Leaning in, you kissed his lips, sweetly and slowly, feeling his smile grow between the kisses. Once you were done with the ice cream, he took you to the park, where you stayed until sunset, holding hands, stealing kisses, and watching adorable old couples doing the same things you were doing, even after all the years together.
“So… did you enjoy your birthday?” Tom asked, as soon as you took a seat on the freshly cut grass in front of a beautiful lake with a couple of swans peacefully swimming. Smiling, you leaned in, placing a kiss on his lips, before answering. “It was the best!”
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tagging some mutuals: @definitely-not-black-cat @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @missnxthingg @peeterparkr @tomhollandthing @wazzupmrstark @screamholland @fallinfortom @duskholland
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honeysorwell · 3 years
Text
(a very unprofessional) game changer
Pairing: Audrey Tidall x fem!Reader x Diane Sherman
Summary: Audrey Tidall ends up conquering the role of the protagonist in the expected film that marks the great director and screenwriter Diane Sherman return to the film market, Run, that the blonde one desired really much. The filmmaker has only managed to return now since she left her job almost twenty years ago to take care of her daughter. She has no real plans other than finishing the film that will mark her return, but her nonpeaceful coexistence with Audrey during the filming, along with the loneliness that consumes her personal life ends up instigating an unexpected affection - and that grows every day - for Y/N, the costume designer for Run.
What Diane did not expect, when giving Y/N anonymously flowers during the recording months, is that the costume designer has been in a secret relationship for more than months with Audrey. However, the feeling of indifference and disdain that the director feels for the actress gradually dies after a heated argument between the two, leaving an unnamed tension in the air, while Y/N searches for her secret admirer with her girlfriend.
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A/N: I was extremely surprised when I posted You rush into my life, stay a little while (I know that we can have it all), and in less than a month I got +50likes (after all I barely know how to use tumblr and I discovered these days how and where to look at the followers that I have lol). And thanks to that, I will use (a very unprofessional) game changer as a social experiment, to see if you guys really like what I write, and if the answer is also positive, I will open requests to write things in my free time. And yes, my first language is not English so maybe something might sound strange.
I had this idea as soon as Run was released, thanks to Diane's passion for films... And since Audrey is an actress, I thought it would be good to combine these two...
I can say that this is a big AU because Diane is a lovely mother, and no one from Roanoke dies (because I don't have time to develop any of this shit).
Hope you all like it!
Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1 ,  Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 (final one)
Chapter 1
Chapter’s summary: Audrey and Y/N get to know each other thanks to Diane, and even though they are about to start recording Run, they decide that it is worthwhile to continue with their relationship. Even if secretly.
Warnings: In this chapter at least, none. Just implicit mentions of smut, it's not really something!  
Word Count: 1,2k
In theory, when someone wins an award as important as The Saturn, their career between movies becomes more likely to invitations to productions. Films, miniseries, or even theatrical productions. But that didn't happen with Audrey.
There was a voice in her head that said it was thanks to her age. But since none of the actors in Roanoke's cast, especially women, were so different in this aspect, Audrey continued to ignore that voice.
Everything was relatively ready for the British woman to participate in Return to Roanoke: Three Days in Hell, however after her breakup with Rory, the blonde one preferred to focus on something new. She quickly fell in love with him, but when the red-haired man asked about marriage, everything was clear to Audrey. Their paths and thoughts were so different, even with the significant feeling between them, that it was better to break their love relationship before their friendship was affected. And this was what she did.
It was audacious. Refuse a proposal for the same program that gave her fame and awards, to audition for a new film that she barely knew would happen. Some people would call her crazy, but the email she received from her agent was enough to give her courage.
Or rather, four words from that email. Directed by Diane Sherman was what caught her attention and prompted her to try to venture out to take the test.
She can still remember. Years ago, while she was still fighting for a minor role in any theatrical production in England, Diane Sherman was already acclaimed worldwide for the grandiose films with unexpected endings that she produced, even at a young age.
All the films of the woman with a reddish tone between her brunette hair strands became hits. But in the midst of it all, Diane decided to take a break from her career, and less than five months later, a pregnancy was announced.
After that, twenty years passed and no film was released, no interview, no magazine cover. Such a gloriously famous woman disappeared from everyone's view with her baby. But only up to now.
That test was probably the one that tired Audrey the most in her entire career. To portray in a few minutes the pain of the life of a woman who is obsessed with her daughter to the point of making her sick was difficult. But she did, and so, while her former co-stars were locking themselves up in a seemingly haunted mansion, she was getting a call from her agent saying that she got the lead role.
Everything worked well when the blonde received her script and started working with Diane on how they would like this character to be seen by the audience, but as the conversations flowed, Audrey understood why all of the woman's films were such a success. She was a perfectionist and her authority was clear.
Everything needed to be perfect. Including the costume.
And so Audrey met Y/N. A beautiful costume designer with so much talent to spare to the world.
The first time they saw each other, Diane was not present, after all, it was just a date to take Audrey's body measurements. As the story was about a housewife, movable and comfortable clothes had to be designed, which did not force Audrey to strip naked to have her measurements known by Y/N, even if an unprofessional part of her wanted to.
Quick encounters followed, some with Diane briefly present, just to define new color palettes or to approve and disapprove something. The director never stayed more than twenty minutes with the two women, but thanks to Y/N's perseverance, in producing everything exactly as Diane wished, and Audrey's free time, due to her mind being ease in memorizing lines and just a few friendships outside England, the two woman became relatively close.
When the costumes were all designed and in the final process of being made, Diane decided that she would like Audrey's hair to be longer. Some wig tests took place, but a joint decision was made.
The film would be postponed in five months from there, so that the blonde's hair would grow.
It was frustrating, to say the least, and maybe that was the trigger for Audrey's disapproval with Diane, but one thing was good. The time now acquired has started to be spent on Y/N.
Always at discreet lunches or afternoon teas in their homes...
Y/N thinks it might be extremely inappropriate and absolutely unprofessional to get personally involved with a co-worker, even outside the set, and even though their work on Diane's film was relatively distant. But, after many glasses of wine and random conversations, nothing made more sense to Y/N than Audrey's lips against hers.
A one-night stand. That was what they thought they were born to be. But the skin on Audrey's stomach was so smooth that Y/N didn't know if she wanted to kiss her until she moaned or laughed, confused as she tried to understand which one of the sounds was the actual responsible for her heart beating faster.
A one-night stand. Because Audrey didn't feel ready to start a relationship after such a recent breakup. But there was nothing more beautiful than Y/N's face full of pleasure while she was being touched, or her face concentrated on redoing a crooked seam, even if she was the only one that noticed the defect in the piece.
A one-night stand. That turned into two, three, ten, thirty... and when they noticed, Audrey's hair was long enough for the film to start recording and their mind was unconsciously bought each other's favorite foods at the supermarket.
And on one of those nights, when they were both lying on Y/N's bed and Audrey was drawing imaginary flowers on the bare skin of her right hip, a whisper escaped the actresses lips:
"I don't want this to end because we are going to work together... Does that make me unprofessional?", The moment the question escapes her lips, she raises her face towards Y/N and looks deeply into her eyes.
"Well ...", the costume designer starts and stops, distracted by the beauty of Audrey's brown eyes and a lock of her hair - now longer - that is hindering the Y/N view of the blonde's cheeks, but that soon puts the hair strands behind her ear and continues - "Count me in because I don't want this to end either..."
It is a smile so beautiful that it takes hold of Audrey's lips, that the courage to take possession of Y / N's body and one more phrase escapes her lips.
"I think I'm in love with you."
The word think sounds so low, it's like it's not even there. Because Y/N's mind knows that she is sure, even scared and that is why Y/N's eyes focus on the whole room, except the face in front of her. Until delicate fingers touch her chin and direct her to see brown eyes bathed in tears, amid the same glorious smile of seconds ago.
"And I don't know how you didn't notice that I fell in love with you too."
And so they come to an agreement. Nothing will be explicit while they are on set. At work, they will be just friends, close friends if the distance wraps their stomachs, but still, just friends.
For the sake of their reputations, their jobs, and the Diane Sherman film they will be just friends.
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