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nightwishesworld · 3 years

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Babysitting (Part 1)

You and Alcina are roped into taking care of your friend's daughter for a few days. Alcina is...less than excited about it. I mean, come on, a baby in Castle Dimitrescu? What could possibly go wrong?!

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The warmth of the afternoon sun crept its way into the windows of Castle Dimitrescu. Both you and Alcina decided it was a beautiful day to take your afternoon tea in the gardens instead of the library . Blooms grew in newly fragranced air, the sweet petals that fluttered reflected by the honeyed-sweetness within. The garden birds always warm your heart. They bring so much joy just from watching them play and dance around the hedges. There are so many of them out today, large and small, brown, red-capped, and golden stripped. You love listening to their chirping, each singing its own beautiful song.

Alcina held your hand over the table as she sipped her special blend of tea.

“Oh, Darling, did I tell you Cristofor and Lucia are going out of town? He says it’s for business but honestly, I think they just want to have a break from the baby. I mean, I don’t blame them, it’s their first kid and you know how hectic everything’s been for them lately."

Alcina nods. “Yes, well, it didn’t help that they were a little unprepared for baby Julianna. That’s her name, right? I remember we offered to buy a few things for them before she was born.”

“Yeah, that’s it, but I just call her Jewel. My precious little gem. I guess they’re gonna be gone for the extended weekend and need someone to watch her.”

Alcina scoffs. “I pity those they choose.”

“Oh stop it, Alcina, it won’t be that bad.”

She stops what she’s doing, nearly choking on her tea, and just stares at you. “You didn’t. You did not! Please for the love of Mother Miranda tell me you didn’t say we would take care of her!”

Your silence was all the answer she needed.

“Why would you do that? Castle Dimitrescu is no place for a baby!”

“Tell that to Cris! I tried telling him that and all he did was assure me that everything would be fine. They feel Jewel would be safest in our care; they were practically begging, Al. What was I supposed to say?”

“No?” You roll your eyes at her. “What about their family? Are they really not available?”

“Lucia said she would feel guilty asking her folks to do any more for them. They usually watch her every day Cris and Lucia are at work. Imagine that plus three straight days; I would want a break too.”

Alcina stayed silent.

“They’re gonna stop by in a few days with some stuff, like diapers and toys and things.”

Alcina huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m so glad you discussed the details so thoroughly with them.”

“I figured you would say no. Look, I’m sorry I went behind your back but they really need a babysitter and they don’t trust anyone as they do us. Besides, I’m Jule’s unofficial aunt, I don’t think I can say no to something like this. I know you don’t like kids, but-”

“What are you talking about? I love seeing little Julianna.”

“You do? Cause every time they come to visit you seem kind of...distant”

“I don’t...I don’t like holding her. She’s too tiny and fragile for someone like me to be holding.”

“Someone like you?” Then it dawned on you. “Oh, Alci. You don’t actually believe that, do you? You’re always so gentle with her.”

“Because if I’m not delicate I’ll crush her.” Alcina’s face held sorrow to it, not evident to most individuals.

“You wouldn’t crush her, Alci. I know you better than that. You literally came running into my study the other day because I screamed ‘spider,’ and then carried me out because I lost sight of it. You’re a lot more gentle than you’re giving yourself credit.You're a good, thoughtful, and gentle person Alci. Anyone who can’t see that is purely idiotic,” I muttered under my breath.

“I suppose it’s not the worst thing in the world, having a baby running around the castle. And we have time to babyproof everything.”

“That shouldn’t be too hard, love, she’s only seven months old. She’s only just starting to learn how to crawl.”

You were talking but Alcina wasn’t listening. She was too busy making a mental checklist of everything that needed to be done before baby Julianna arrived. “Hmm? Oh yes, of course, darling. Do you know where they got those baby gates? We’re going to need quite a few of them.”

“Alci, I don’t think we’ll need-” She’s already walked away. “ Hey, at least you’re embracing it?”

True to his word, Cris arrived at the castle three days later with a carriage full of supplies. You wanted to welcome them with Alcina, but the matriarch was nowhere to be found. The past few days for her have been spent deep cleaning the walls and floors, which really sucked, especially for Bela, Cassi, and Dani. They stuck doing the hard labor as Alcina bossed them around.

You greeted him with a tight hug. “Thank god you’re here. Alcina’s going crazy trying to babyproof everything. I don’t think the castle’s ever been this protected. Or this clean,” I muttered the last part under my breath.

Cris put a hand over his heart. “Oh, she doesn’t have to do that! Julianna can barely crawl five feet. Besides, I know for certain this place is much neater than our house, even on a bad day. She would have been perfectly fine.”

“I tried to tell her to not worry so much, but it just goes in one ear and out the other. Perhaps if she hears it from you she’ll finally listen,” I rolled my eyes playfully.

Cris nods. “And you wonder why I think Julianna’s so safe up here. I’ll be sure to mention it to Alcina. Do you wanna unload this stuff now or wait for her?”

You glance behind him to the carriage. There were a few large bags filled with miscellaneous items as well as a few larger things on the back seat not bagged at all like the playpen. “I don’t even know where she is, Cris. And I’d offer to have the girls help, but they’re hiding from Alci. Let’s just get started. We can put it in the lounge in the foyer until Alcina comes around.”

“Sounds like a plan. Some of this stuff I’ll bring more of when we drop her off, like diapers, you’ll never have enough diapers,” he says as he tosses you a bag.

“So you’ve said. Didn’t you have a nightmare about it once?”

“Before Lucia even went into labor. We ran out and every shop in a 50-mile radius was sold out. To date, it’s one of my worst nightmares.”

You laughed. “So where are you guys going? I mean, really going. You don’t actually think I believe that crap about a Mortician Expo, do you?”

Cris gave you a look of skepticism and stayed silent as if he were planning his next move.

“Relax man, I don’t actually care. Taking care of a baby is more work than I can imagine. I would want a break too!” The statement seemed to ease him.

“Nowhere special. We made reservations at a nice hotel a few hours south of here; it’s got a pool, hot tub, couples massages, the works!”

You nod, tossing the last of the bags by the lounge. “Nice! You guys deserve it, like I said, I can’t imagine how much work taking care of Julianna is.”

“You won’t have to in a few days,” he laughed.

“I’m excited now, but something tells me I won’t be in a few days. Just sleep deprived!”

“Nah you’ll love it. It’s just, well only slightly tiring! That’s all. Should we go looking for Alcina? I wanna go over Julianna’s schedule with both of you.”

“She knew you were coming so she should be here any minute now. I’m sure she just lost track of time bossing the girls around. The entire west wing has been baby-proofed and when I mean the entire wing, I mean the entire wing. She had Daniela take down all of the ornate weapons and armor from the walls while Bela and Cassi scrubbed everything. And that was just this morning.”

“I’ll be sure to thank them then,” Cris chuckled lightheartedly.

As if on cue, you can just make out the sound of high heels rushing down the corridor, only to stop abruptly just around the corner. Knowing Alcina she was probably adjusting herself to look like her usual well-presented way. Sure as rain, Alcina approached looking as elegant as ever. “Oh Cristofor, please forgive me. It’s been total chaos around here- I completely lost track of time and-”

Cris waved it off and took her hand in his, bringing it up so he could kiss her wedding ring. “Think nothing of it, Alcina. I heard you’ve been keeping yourself busy.”

The matriarch sent you a glare that you shrug off with a smug smile.

“You don’t need to worry about anything, Alcina. I know my little girl will be in the best care possible up here. There’s no one Lucia and I trust more.”

“That is one very generous statement, Cristofor, but a castle is still no place for a baby, especially this one.”

“That may hold some truth, but most of all that...messy business stays in the basement, right?”

“All of it does,” you answer for Alcina. “Even I’m not allowed down there and we’ve been married for three and a half years!”

“And for good reason,” Alcina says. “You know what goes on down there. Why would I put my wife’s life in danger?”

You were about to retaliate but Cris wrapped his arms around the both of you. “Let’s just get this stuff upstairs, huh? Far the fuck away from the basement and whatever goes on down there.”

Alcina opens her mouth but Cris shakes his head profusely. “Nope, don’t want to know. Let’s just get to the bedroom. Wow, the walls do look bare.”

“Indeed,” Alcina nodded. “It’s a good thing little Julianna is staying, I should have had the walls deep cleaned nearly decades ago,” she let out an elegant laugh.

“I hope you didn’t do all this just for us.” Cris looked in awe as the various portraits and ornate weapons decorating the walls became more scarce as they neared the master bedroom. It made this part of the castle feel abandoned. The chemical smell of cleaning solvents was strong, but it would surely be gone in time for Julianna’s arrival.

“Of course I did. You are family and you deserve nothing but the best possible care.”

Cristofor shakes his head. "You're a good woman, Alcina. I genuinely hope you know that."

She gives him a warm smile while holding the bedroom door open for him. "I try to be."

"So," he sets down his two large boxes of supplies to rub his back. "Where do you want this stuff?"

"At the foot of the bed for now," you shrug. "Alcina and I will organize everything once it's all here."

He nodded and kicked it lazily to the end of the bed and took a seat on the mattress. "If we wanna be lazy we could shove the rest of the boxes in the playpen and carry it all up in one trip."

"We can do that," you smiled. "Then we can start organizing everything."

"And while we're doing that I'd like to walk you through Julianna's schedule. Lucia made you a copy with a couple of notes on how to do specific things...it's all well let’s just say pretty detailed," he laughed.

A look of fear crossed over the matriarch's face for a moment. "Why don't I go grab it? Then you two can start unpacking. If I run into the girls I'll send them up as well."

"Oh leave the girls alone," you shake your head at the matriarch. "They're already hiding from you."

Alcina lets out an exasperated laugh. "Can you believe that, Cristofor? My own daughters are hiding from me!" Alcina exclaimed with a look of sheer amusement on her face.

"Nothing I'm looking forward to." You started unpacking the many boxes of diapers and arranging them neatly on the already emptied shelves while Cris made himself comfortable sitting on the floor, unpacking blankets and clothes. He unfolded and refolded them in a perfect square and placed them on top of the hope chest. You smiled at each plush blanket bearing a different pattern and color.

"Where can I put her clothes?"

"Um, just on the bed for now. I don't know if Alcina emptied out a drawer yet. It would be that middle one if you wanna check."

You hear almost all the joints in his legs crack as he stands and makes his way over to the dresser. He grips the knobs but pauses before opening them. "I'm not gonna find anything dirty in here, am I?"

"Not in there, no."

He turns back to you with an arched brow and hung jaw. You only laugh at him.

"Is it cleared out?"

He nods, neatly organizing the various onesies and pajama sets.

He busied himself displaying various lotions and powders on the coffee table, which would act as your changing station.

“What can I do?” Alcina asked, staring down anxiously at the various bottles.

Cris thought for a moment before taking two smaller boxes out of the playpen and pushing them towards the vampire. “These are for bath time." He quickly scanned over the contents to make sure he was correct. "This box is shampoos, soaps, and toys. Julianna loves bath time; the more toys and games the better." Alcina smiled. “And this box is her special duck towel, washcloth- also a duck pattern she loves ducks, two non-slip bath mats for both inside and outside the tub, and a sponge.”

She looked a tad overwhelmed again taking in all the items but took the boxes nonetheless. “Good thing I cleared out cupboard space, right darling?”

You wanted to laugh but restrained yourself to biting the inside of your cheek instead. “Yes, dear.”

"Well, that's everything. Oh, and don't worry about a crib. Lucia and I are bringing it when we drop Julianna off."

Alcina shook her head and simply waved him off. "Oh don't bother, Cristofor. We have one she's more than welcome to use."

You gave her a confused look. "Um, no we don't."

"Yes, we do. I just have to grab it out of storage. If you'd like to wait and see if it's up to your standards you're more than welcome to." It wasn't so much of an invitation as it was a plea.

Cris laughed. "Alcina, I told you anything you have is probably way better than ours. I'm sure it's fine."

"It would make me feel a lot better," Alcina said with a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Alright, whatever it takes to make you feel better about this."

Alcina sighed in relief and rushed down the hall.

"She really is worked up about this isn't she?"

You let yourself collapse back onto the bed. "You have no idea. She's been fretting over everything since I told her three whole days ago!"

"I kinda figured she would be the calm one between the two of you since, you know, she's got three kids already."

You feigned a look of hurt. "Ok first of all, ouch my pride! Secondly, all three of the girls were turned when they were adults. Which is why I wanna know where this supposed crib came from."

He turned back to you. "And you know what you're doing?"

"Of course not, but one of us has to be calm about it."

Cris laughed, letting himself lounge back on his elbows. Any further down and he was afraid he would fall asleep. "I guess that's true. You're gonna be great though, both of you. Just the fact that you're worrying about all this stuff tells me you're really dedicated to keeping Julianna safe and happy here."

"Thanks, man. I think I really needed to hear that. Got any advice to help us prepare?"

He slaps a hand on your thigh and gives it a friendly squeeze. "Have as much sex as you can before she's here. Because once she is, you'll be way too tired to even think about it."

You sit up and look at him incredulously, which earns him a hearty laugh. "I asked you for advice on how to keep your baby alive and you tell me to bone my wife?"

"All I'm saying is Lucia and I haven't been able to do it since before Julianna was born," Cris whispered in all seriousness.

Alcina returned carrying what you can only assume is the crib covered with a sheet. Bela stepped in first to hold the door open for her.

"Thank you, darling. I found my one good daughter to help me. Not the rascals this time!"

Cris laughs. "I see that."

The blonde nodded and joined you both on the bed. "Hello, y/n. Hello, Uncle Cris."

"Good to see you, Bela."

“Alright,” you hop off the bed. “Let’s see this crib that we apparently have just laying around.”

Alcina rolls her eyes and yanks the dusty sheet away, revealing the most beautiful baby crib you have ever seen. Polished solid dark oak frame with solid gold detailing wrapping around the bars like vines. The Dimitrescu House Crest is shining proudly on both sides.

A smug grin plastered itself on Alcina’s face knowing she single-handedly put an end to your snarky remarks.

“Holy shit,” you finally say. “And you had this in storage…just because?”

The question made her uncomfortable, you could tell. A shadow cast over Alcina’s face. “I had it made a while back and forgot about it until now. I’m glad it stayed in such pristine shape. Any polishes used on it were water-based and non-toxic. Perfect for a baby to slobber on,” she chuckles almost a bit uncomfortably.

Cris shook his head as he ran a hand across the smooth wooden framework. “I don’t know what to say, Alcina. It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Only the best for our favorite niece.”

Cris clapped his hands together and pulled out a few pieces of paper from his back pocket. "Now, onto Julianna's schedule. Lucia tried to be as helpful as possible when writing it down, but she said if you have any questions just ask her when we drop her Jules off."

Both of you nodded as he handed them to you. Bela situated herself on your bed with one of the plushies he brought over just because.

Daily Routine

7 am- wake up and bottle feed 8 ounces for about 20 minutes (doesn't have to be one the dot if she's still sleeping. It's a rare occurrence for her to sleep in, but it could happen

7:30- playtime on the floor or outside (we usually keep her inside this early in the morning but either is perfectly suitable)

8:00- breakfast (something solid-ish. Like oatmeal and fruit chunks)

8:30- more play

Between 9-9:30- bottle-feed 6 ounces for 15 minutes then naptime

11:00- wake up and play (she loves her building blocks and rattle)

Noon- lunch (baby food! Fruit or veggie) (she'll probably refuse solids but don't take no for an answer! Even just a few are ok if she's especially cranky)

12:30- play (peek-a-boo in the mirror! she gets a kick out of it every time.

1:30- bottle-feed 6 ounces and nap (Congrats! you're halfway there)

3:30- wake up and play (try using the hand puppets and engage her in nursery rhymes)

4:00- bottle feed four ounces for roughly 20 minutes

5:00- dinner (more baby food. Whichever one she didn’t have for lunch)! Same as the morning, she'll probably refuse)

5:30-play (maybe go for a walk if you haven't already?)

6:30- bath time! (see added note for specific bathtime notes. She loves hearing her little rubber ducky squeak)

7:00- bottle-feed 8 ounces then time for bed (good luck trying to sleep and getting her to sleep)

1:30 am- bottle feed again (she’ll wake you up when she’s hungry don’t worry)

Breastmilk can be refrigerated for five days and I’ve given you more than enough to hold her over. Protect it with your lives! Breast Milk is liquid gold!

You read the note over a couple of times before handing it to Alcina who looked just as overwhelmed as you. "That is so much."

"Not enough," Alcina says at the same time.

Cris laughs. "Wanna see what she wrote for bathtime?"

Alcina took the second not from him.

Bathtime Tips

Make sure the adhesive mats are set down before bath time begins. One in the tub one outside

Make sure you have everything you need nearby; towel, washcloth, toys (especially her duck), shampoos, lotion, clean clothes, and a diaper

It’s easiest (and less painful) to sit on a stool or something instead of standing and bending over

ALWAYS KEEP A HAND ON HER!

Take off any jewelry and be sure to wash your hands

Check the water temp with the inside of your wrist- it should be warm (not too hot or too cold)

Dry and dress her on the floor (hence the second mat)

Squirty toys! (The duck is her favorite as it also squeaks)

Plastic boats that she can push around

Whale-shaped basin for rinsing hair

Once she’s all dry she can go right in her crib

"Sweet Satan, Cristofor. This is a lot of information. I mean, the more the better but..."

You take her hand in yours and kiss the top of her knuckles. "It's alright, Love, we've got this. If anyone can manage this it's us."

She nods but doesn't really believe your words. You can see the doubt reflecting in her eyes. "You're right."

"It looks way more complicated than it is, ladies. You just put her in the tub, don't let her drown, clean her, and take her out. Boom, simple as that."

Alcina lets out a relieving chuckle and you thank him silently.

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You lay awake that night unable to fall asleep. Alcina is awake too, but you don't dare speak to her. She's too lost in her own world to be bothered with your nonsense. But it was starting to eat you alive from the inside out. You looked over at it sitting across the room. Its existence is mocking you to the point where you can almost hear it laughing at you.

You finally break the silence. “Who’s even is it? You turned the girls when they were adults, right?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

You hear her sigh. “Yes of course all of them. Now please, I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But you had to have a reason, Al. No one just has a crib as intricate as that made out of the blue.”

“It doesn’t matter,” her tone grew sharper. “We have it now for Julianna and that’s what matters.”

“I guess so, but…” you turn your body to face her. Her silhouette is laying on her back staring up at the ceiling. “D-did you try having a baby with someone else and…”

She turns to look at you with wide golden eyes. Not angry, but certainly not expecting that line of questioning. You immediately regret opening your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-“ Alcina silences your ramblings with a searing kiss. One you happily return.

“It’s nothing like that, my love. My only children are ours. I had it made last year when Lucia first told us she was pregnant. I remember how excited you were for them. You did so much to help her get ready, for both of them, really.” Alcina smiled and reached blindly for your hand. “And every time they come up to visit your eyes just light up when you see Julianna. You’re so good with her, iubirea mea.”

A shadow of guilt passed over her face. “I overheard you talking to Lucia about wanting kids of your own.”

Your heart plummeted down to the pit of your stomach.

“You love our daughters with your entire heart, but it’s not the same as raising your own flesh and blood. Every time I saw you holding little Julianna or singing to her I pictured you with our baby. So, I got all excited and, albeit, ahead of myself and had the crib made.”

“For our baby,” you finished with a genuine smile.

Alcina nodded. “I wanted to wait for you to bring up the conversation before saying anything about it, and” her voice cracks. “You never did. I didn’t understand why at first. You would produce such a beautiful baby with or without me.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes threatening to cascade down her cheeks. “Then one night it just sort of hit me; why would you want to share something as precious and innocent as a baby with a monster like me?”

Tears flowed freely from her eyes and sobs racked her body, it broke your heart. Without thinking you throw yourself at Alcina and wrap her tightly in your arms. The vampire happily buries her face in the crook of your neck and cries her heart out. You thread your fingers through her hair to help soothe her.

“Oh, my love, I’m so sorry. Don’t you ever refer to yourself as a monster ever again, do you hear me? You are no monster, Alcina Dimitrescu. How can someone as loving, and soft, and generous like you be anything besides an angel?”

“Oh stop pretending, y/n. I’m a genetically mutated freak! The baby would take one look at me and start wailing,” Alcina let out a frustrated huff.

“Stop it, Alcina. Our baby would adore you just like Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela do. Julianna loves you to pieces! She gets so excited every time you walk in the room.”

Alcina sniffled. “She does that with everyone.”

“Because she likes us, Al.”

A beat of awkward silence passed between the two of you until you finally felt her breathing steady.

“You want to have a baby with me?”

You couldn’t contain your smile as she nodded ever so slightly into your neck. “Why didn’t you say anything before? We could have talked about it months ago. The only reason I never brought it up was that I assumed you didn’t want any more children running amuck in the castle. Imagine if they turned out to be just like Daniela.”

That got her to laugh a little. “I wouldn’t mind a baby running around; especially if they look like you.”

“Well I don’t know about that considering we would have to adopt.”

A mischievous smile crept on Alcina’s lips. “Who says we can’t have a baby ourselves?”

“Um, nature? We’re both women, Alcina. I don’t think I have to explain to you how that won’t work.”

Alcina chuckles into your neck. “We’d have quite the brood running around the castle if it did.”

“Then you want to find a donor?” She detached herself from you just enough to give you a look of disgust. “Of course not; no one is allowed to touch my y/n except me.” She flips you both over so you’re pinned underneath her. “There are ways we could have a baby, you know?”

A blush covered your cheeks down to your chest. “O-oh?”

“Mmhm. The old witch in the village could brew something up for us, should we choose to carry.” She laughs at your dumbfounded expression. “It would be a sex change tonic of sorts. Temporary of course, I believe it only lasts a week.”

You blush furiously.

“And depending on the portions of ingredients she uses we could change the erm, size, if you catch my drift.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, in real words at least. Something between a yelp and a whimper came out of your mouth instead. It gets a laugh out of Alcina at least.

“That’s really a thing we could do?”

She starts trailing kisses down your neck to your chest. “Oh yes,” her free hand comes up to pull your shirt down over your breasts. As soon as they pooled out of their confinement Alcina started circling one of your nipples with her tongue. “Would you like that, darling? To feel my cock pounding into you.”

Fuck you loved it when she talks dirty to you. But that turned you on more than you were willing to admit. You gave a shy nod.

Alcina rewards your honesty by taking your hardened nipple in her mouth and sucking. Her other hand moved up your body to rest on your other breast, gently kneading it like dough.

Alcina has always been fascinated with your breasts. Always burying her face in them when cuddling. She simply melted into them on bad days. Giving her a scalp massage at the same time earned you bonus points.

Her lips abandon your nipple, leaving a bridge of saliva still connecting you, and snuggled her face deep in between your breasts. She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the moment. Her eyes flutter open and you can see the corners of a smile buried in your chest. “What do you think, my love?”

“I think we should see how we do this weekend before making any big decisions.”

Alcina leaned forward only enough to kiss your lips. “Sounds like a plan.”

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu #tall vampire lady #bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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suchalonelysunflower · 3 years

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I gave you my heart (h.s)

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Harry is trying to propose to you, but his family is getting in the way.

Warnings: Fluff. Angst if you really pay attention. Language. Mentions of alcohol (barely) Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, sorry!)

Word count: 4.1 K

Author’s Note: Oh how I missed writing for Harry! And a fluffy piece nonetheless! Who am I? Well, this is a Holiday fic (non specific) and I’m also planning to do a 5SOS holiday fic by the end of the year, so stay tuned! 🌻 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are welcomed and encouraged! Please, I love to hear from you guys 💕 Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨

My materialist // wanna be on my tag list?

Picture form Pinterest. Title from the song “last Christmas”

Ok i know this is cheesy but hear me out, Harry proposing on Christmas with his family around.

Harry kneeled in front of you. His hands were intertwined with yours as he spoke of all the grand adventures you had and how much he adores you while your eyes filled with glossy cold tears. He couldn’t see his mum from where he was, but he could already tell she started crying as well while Gemma held her in a side hug, watching the scene they never thought would happen being displayed in front of them.

Words of praise left his mouth like a symphony, knowing that he will never get tired of praising you as the angel you were. Tears started forming in his eyes as he promised you a lifetime of love and adventure, hoping with all his heart you would say yes.

They all knew the question that was going to pop out of his lips any time now.

“So, Y/N L/N” He said, as the fireworks started to go off behind them “Will you marry me?”

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and with a smile you answered:

“You better wake up before I leave you in the car”

Harry opened his eyes in shock, cursing under his breath as he realized he had fallen asleep without realizing.

You were on your way to Anne’s house for the Holidays, just like you promised a few months ago when Harry finalized all his tour arrangements. You were very excited to see Harry’s family again, it has been a while since you got to spend any time with them as you accompanied Harry across the world for the most part of the past year. You love them with all your heart and it comforts you to know that the feeling is completely mutual - Anne practically adopting you the minute you came through the door as Harry’s partner a few years ago and Gemma quickly becoming your best friend over the span of a few minutes, bonding over clothes, movies and embarassing Harry stories.

Harry loved how much you and his family love each other, for that is all he asked. For him there are only three things that matter most: His music and his fans; His family and, of course, you. He felt really blessed to have you in his life during all these years, knowing that you love him just as much as he loves you (although he would always fight that he loves you more) You were his rock, his best friend, his world… and he cannot wait to put a rock on that hand to prove that to you.

He got the ring a few months prior, but he knew he wanted to marry you from the first moment he saw you interact with his family. He still remembers that cold December night when he came downstairs looking for you and you were sleeping on the couch next to Gemma. You have been talking all night and were exhausted by the time you both finished that bottle of wine. He stood on the entrance of the living room watching the cozy scene with a smile plastered across his face. He knew he loved you back then, but his happiness at that moment was unmatched.

He was so entranced by the picture that he didn’t notice Anne standing beside him.

“This one’s a keeper” She said in a low voice as she watched you both with tenderness in her eyes. But Harry already knew that.

And now, as you were driving the cold snowy roads of Cheshire, Harry drifted back from his fantasy waiting to come true. Thinking back and forward of the little velvet box that is hidden in his suitcase.

“Sorry,” He said with a yawn “Didn’t notice I fell asleep”

You smiled at him but kept your eyes on the road “It’s okay, love. I know you must be tired of the trip. That is why I asked you to switch seats and let me drive in the first place”

Harry stared at you for a moment, completely enamored by your thoughtfulness. He really was lucky to have you.

“Besides,” You joke “With your driving skills, we might get to Homes Chapel the day after the Holidays if we are lucky”

Harry rolled his eyes “Oh, bug off!” He said as he mocked annoyance, but his laugher soon joined yours as you continued your way towards his childhood home.

You let out a happy squeal once you noticed Anne standing in front of her house from a distance, wasting no time on parking the car so you could run up to her and hug her.

“Aww I’m so glad you’re finally here!” Said the matriarch of the Styles’ family as she crushed your body in a tight hug “I’m never letting you go a year without visiting us again!”

“It will not happen again! I promise” You answered with a laugh.

She let you go just enough so she could place her palm on your cheek, caressing it in a motherly way “You better! And in any case you could always run away from my son and come stay here for as long as you want!”

This is when Harry decided to interject. He was standing behind you, smiling at the exchange that was happening in front of him.

“Oi! No need for that now, mum”

Anne laughed as she went to hug her son, murmuring about how if he doesn’t keep an eye on you she would steal you from him without a second thought.

After a few more greetings, Anne ushered you into the house. The warm environment and the smell of a homemade meal made you feel at home.

You always loved to come and visit Harry’s childhood home. It reminded you of him, the real Harry you got to know on a more personal and deep level. The Harry that let all his walls down and let you in, welcoming you to his house, his family and friends and into his heart. The Harry you love with all your being.

“‘m gonna head and help mum with dinner” Your boyfriend said as he hung his coat by the door “You’ve been driving all day, love. You should rest”

He pressed his chest to your back and rounded his arms around your waist to hold you closer before placing a kiss to the shell of your ear. You hummed “‘m not tired. I don’t think I could rest till much later.”

“Still,” Harry said “At least try to rest? Don’t want you to feel sick and I know you’ll hate to miss all the traditions”

You sighed “At least that way I’ll get you to take care of me, right?” You smiled at him and he smiled back.

“Always, darling”

You placed a couple little chaste kisses to his lips, pulling away from his grasp before he started to try and deepend them as he always does “‘m gonna go unpack my suitcase then. Want me to unpack yours?”

Harry was about to answer when the alarms in his head went off, reminding him of the little box you should definitely not find “Uh, n-no. I have to show something to my mum” He lied “I’ll unpack my stuff later. Thank you, though”

His response got you a little confused, but you just shrug your shoulders and turned around towards the guest room, aka: Harry’s old room. Letting Harry let out a relief breath once you went out of sight. This was going to be a long holiday.

Gemma arrived later that night. She didn’t even put her luggage on the ground before she caught your eye and ran to hug you.

“Oh my god” She said, hugging you tighter “I have so much to tell you!”

“Oh sure,” Harry said, walking towards her as she almost left you out of breath “I’m just your brother who you haven’t seen in a long time… Why should I get a hug?”

The older Styles rolled her eyes “Because I see you in every social media post there is you dork! Besides, I have had Y/N in my life rather recently compared to living with you under the same roof for almost seventeen years”

Harry placed his hand over his heart and mocked a hurt expression, making his sister laugh before she moved on to wrap him into a hug.

“I missed you, you wanker” She said, hiding some love in the insult.

“Me too, jerk”

“But I missed Y/N more” She said with a grin, pulling away from Harry and turning back to you. Intertwining your arms so you’d walk together into the living room “So, I was telling you…”

Hours flew by and before you’d realized it was almost 2 am when you and Gemma made your ways to your respected rooms. You noticed that Harry went to bed a little earlier and you guessed he would be asleep by now.

You found your boyfriend safe and tucked away in dreams once you opened the door. You smiled to yourself as you admired his sleeping figure sprawled all over the bed with one arm spread over your side, waiting for you to cuddle up against it.

A yawn flew through you as the exhaustion of the day settled in. You quickly changed into your cozy pajamas, did your nighttime routine and layed in bed next to Harry, who, as soon as he felt you by his side, pulled your body closer to him.

“Hi” He said in a whisper, kissing the shell of your ear.

“I thought you were sleeping, H” You giggled as you felt his hand caress your side.

“Couldn’t sleep well without you, you know that”

And indeed you did. Harry always complained whenever he was on tour that he missed you too much and that he needed you even more “I just feel better when I’m with you, love. I do better. It’s like you are my lucky charm or something” He’d always said before he convinced you to travel the world with him. And, to be honest, you did not need that much convincing. If you could spend all your living days with Harry, you would.

“Wha’ time is it anyways?” He asked.

“Late” You shrugged, turning your body so you were facing him “I’m sorry. We didn’t realize we spent all night talking”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows “Why are you apologizing for? I love when you spend time with my family”

“But I almost didn’t spend time with you!”

Harry chuckled “It’s okay, love. I know how my mum and sister can get whenever you are around. They love you almost as much as I do”

“Well, Gemma did say she loved me more....” You teased, making Harry scoff.

“Not possible” He pressed his lips to yours, trying to make your worry disappear “‘m serious, though. Don’t be sorry for spending too much time with them. I swear it 's fine. We could have time for ourselves at any point of the Holiday”

You murmured a soft ‘okay’ before drifting into a peaceful sleep. Harry watched you sleep for a few minutes, taking in the joyful peace that your presence gifted to him whenever you were around. Thinking about how he cannot wait to make you an official Styles.

However, that was not going to be an easy job.

As the day passed, you and Harry had less and less time for yourselves as Anne and Gemma got you two completely busy with different activities. From getting the groceries, to help one of them decorate the house or even to just take a walk. You were never not doing something.

And it wasn’t like a bad thing either. On the contrary, you were having the time of your life sharing all of these amazing traditions with Harry’s family. They made you feel welcome and cared for, something that was fairly new to you since you met Harry.

You loved decorating the House and baking cookies with Anne, and it felt so great to have a friend like Gemma around to take the seriousness out of a serious situation and just let you have your fun. But you would be lying if you’d say that you don’t miss your boyfriend.

Even though Harry was always just mere feet from you, he was also caught up in various activities and could barely spend any time with you and that was making him frustrated.

The Holidays were stressful enough, but for Harry this took a whole other level when he thought about the proposal and how many times he failed at getting you two alone so he could do it.

The first miss opportunity came when it started snowing the day after your arrival. He knew how much you loved snow because, in your own words, it made it all seem magical. So when he woke up early that day, he decided that now was the time and that he was ready to pop up the big question. He was going to ask you to play in the snow - just like you usually do - and make a snowman. But the surprise would come with the ring that would be on the snowman’s finger, ready to be placed on your hand if you said yes. Sadly, when you two got ready to go and play, Anne solicited yours and Harry’s help to go and take some food to the shelter that was not so far away from here, a tradition the Styles’ family have been doing since Harry was a baby. When you came back, most of the snow had melted and you were too tired to even think of going outside again.

The second time Harry’s plan got held up was on a frosty night. He had prepared a cozy inside picnic in front of the fireplace for only you and him. He knew that Anne would be out with some of her friends and that Gemma had plans to meet up with someone on a date, so they wouldn’t be able to interrupt in any way. He got a bottle of wine, a charcuterie board, some chocolate covered strawberries, a fluffy blanket and some candles to light up the dark room. He also made you change in your pajamas so you’ll be even more comfortable during the date. Everything went according to plan, his hand almost reaching for the velvet box he hid under one of the couch’s cushions when Gemma came early from her date, completely ruining the moment as she came into the room fuming because she got stood up. Needless to say he did not propose that night.

Harry was convinced that the third time was the charm. Since it was obvious he couldn’t propose in the house without being rudely interrupted every time, he was going to take you out for lunch and then go ice skating, one of your favorite winter activities. Yes, he was aware that it wasn’t his most elaborated plans, but he didn’t know what to do. Plus, he had talked to the owner of the ice skating pit beforehand, asking him to please let them have at least one hour of privacy so he could propose in peace. The owner even promised him to play the playlist Harry made for you and to add some special lightning to make the moment more romantic.

Feeling excited, Harry ran down the stairs to give you the news of your date. But his face fell when he saw you getting ready to go out with Gemma and his mum.

“Are you going out?” He asked as he saw you put on your coat.

“Yes,” You answered with a smile, but that smile soon felt when you saw the disappointment in Harry’s eyes “Your mum asked me and Gemma to go for a last minute shopping run… Harry are you okay, love?”

Your boyfriend closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, a habit he acquired whenever he was frustrated “‘m perfect” He mumbled, turning around to go back to your shared room.

But you were quicker as you grabbed him softly by the arm to make him stop in his tracks. Slowly making him turn around so he was face to face with you “Don’t lie, H. What is going on?”

“‘m just,” He started, but he couldn’t even look you in the eyes as he tried to find the right words to say to you, almost feeling like he is failing you somehow “We never got the chance to spend some time together, Y/N. You are always busy or I am always busy with my mum or with Gemma that I almost didn’t see you this whole trip and I-I just miss you”

Your eyes softened and your heart fluttered with his words. You missed him too, much more than you could say. Everytime you find some time for yourselves you get interrupted and by the end of the day you are both too tired to do anything else besides sleeping. You could tell Harry was frustrated by this whole ordeal, you just didn’t imagine it would affect him this much.

You cupped his cheek and brought him into a sweet kiss “I miss you too, love. Very much” You watched how Harry’s green eyes softened, but they still held an unspoken sadness “If you want me to stay with you, then I’ll stay with you. I don’t need to go with them, you know?”

Harry sighed, placing his hand over yours and caressing it with his thumb “I know” He said as he gave a kiss to your palm “You know how much I love seeing you hanging out with them and I know how much you enjoy it. You should go”

“But Harry-”

“Go, have fun!” He said in a cheerful tone as he brought you closer to give you a hug “I’ll be fine, love. I just want you to remember this Holiday and to enjoy it as much as you can”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay if you-”

“‘m sure,” He smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead, “Go, darling. They must be waitin’”

You smiled back at him and pecked his lips before turning around and closing the front door. Missing for just a second the way Harry’s smile dropped as he saw his plan being shut down once again.

He wasn’t proud of his last resort. He knew you deserved an epic proposal, something that could come out from an Oscar winning movie. Something that was as special as you are. And he was beating himself for ruining every chance he’s got to do this properly, but he promised himself that he would not let you - nor him - return home without a shiny rock on your hand. And a Styles never backs down from a promise.

So, with his heart almost beating out of his chest, he placed the gift bag with the other gifts that adorned the living room. Everything will be done tomorrow and there is no turning back now. It was now or never.

The next morning, you found yourself caught up in another Styles’ tradition. You were all sitting in the living room wearing your coziest pajamas as you drank hot cocoa and ate some gingerbread cookies with a pinch of peppermint. It was almost time to open the presents and you could tell Harry was feeling rather anxious.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked as you curreled up to him on the couch that was facing Anne and Gemma, who were already starting to distribute the presents among you.

Harry hummed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, turning his face so he was looking at you. He could swear in that moment that he has never seen someone as beautiful as you right now as you watched him with doe eyes, your hair a little bit messy and a thin layer of chocolate decorating your upper lip. He was completely and utterly in love with you.

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

You shrugged “You were tossing and turning a lot last night, almost like you were nervous or something. Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Harry smiled “I got you, don’t I? How could anything not be alright?”

You rolled your eyes at his cheesy remark, but quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek. Harry didn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed.

“I asked Anne and Gemma to give us a day for ourselves” You said after a moment. Harry looked at you surprised. You couldn't know..? “I told them I felt guilty that I haven’t spent any time with you since we arrived and they understood” You smiled at him “I got you all for myself today, mr. Styles”

Harry’s eyes filled with glee as he brought your lips to him, kissing you with all the love he could pour at the moment.

“Uh, mum?” Gemma’s voice interrupted the scene “I don’t think this is mine” She said as she opened a gift bag.

“No? It’s a jewelry bag so I thought-”

Gemma shook her head “No! This is definitely not for me” She said as she took the little velvet box from inside, making the room go completely quiet. In that moment, all eyes went to Harry as he watched the scene with horror.

“Oh shit” He said, untangling himself form you so he could grab the box from his sister’s hand “Actually, this is mine”

All three of you stayed quiet as he grabbed your hand and kneeled in front of your sitting figure on the sofa.

“Oh my god” You said, covering your mouth that almost fell to the ground because of the shock.

“Oh my god” Gemma and Anne said in unison as they realized what was happening in front of them.

“Y/N,” Harry said looking into your eyes “Let me start by saying that this is not how things were supposed to go. And I’m not just talking about my sister opening your gift. I’ve been trying to propose for as long as this Holiday lasted. Waiting for the perfect moment because you are my perfect half, my soulmate and you deserve nothing less than pure and utter perfection, my love. And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you now”

You could feel the tears pouring down your face since the moment he kneeled in front of you, but hearing Harry say that he wanted to propose all along made you cry harder, how did you get so lucky?

“I knew I had to do this here, for this is the place where I knew I wanted to marry you the first time we came to visit. I have loved you from the very first moment you said hello, and I knew from that instant that you were going to become my favorite hello and my most painful goodbye. Y/N you are magic, my love. My lucky charm. Everything I do, everything I say or think or sing is for and because of you. You are my muse and my best friend. My anchor and my wings. I cannot live without you nor do I ever want to. You have bewitched me body and soul and I love you. I love you. I love you”

You could hear the distant sobs of Anne in the background, but all you could see was Harry. Harry, your best friend and lover. Harry, the person who filled your life with love and light. Harry, who was now on one knee, with tears in his eyes and a ring on his hand. Harry. Harry. Harry.

“You don’t have to say yes, but I really hope that you do. Y/N, my love. I love you more than life itself, you have made me a better man by loving me the way that you do. Let me love you the same now and forever. Will you marry me?”

You nodded through the tears “Yes, Harry. A million times yes!”

You swore Harry’s smile could light up the world in that moment as he slid the ring down your finger. But you didn’t even look as you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him like his mum and sister weren’t watching, throwing the both of you to the floor.

Anne and Gemma started clapping, celebrating the new beginning of the young couple. Because these holidays had a new meaning now, since now and forever they will be remembered as the day you said “yes” to the love of your life.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @multistann @mystic-232

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interstellargatorskinboots1812 · 3 years

Text

Tapped Into Your Mind & Soul Chapter 5

WARNINGS: It’s an Alfie fic, so obviously SWEARING.

As always, i am a complete comment whore so PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE drop me a line to let me know what you think of the story so far.

All Things are Subject to Decay and Change

Alfie's red Bentley barges it's way through London- a city of vibrant smog which is helping Arabella feel at ease. There is plenty of beauty to her in the soot-hazed stone of the passing buildings and even the Londoners who hunch by with sour faces and their misery reflected in the colour of the sky.

She is glad of the car's padded seats which absorb each of his sharp turns and brutal stops.

'It's like a circus round here', she comments with optimism, pushing her head further out of the window. Miles upon miles littered with curiosities - street artists providing depictions of escape on the cold pavement, costermongers shouting their trade and yards of train advertisements pasted onto lampposts in every colour. Alluring as the sound of jazz and the sight of the Charleston might be, London shrouds itself in so much more potential for her than flappers and frivolity. His irked voice snaps her from her thoughts.

'It's fuckin' 'orrible, too many animals in this circus'.

His knuckles are white from his grip on the wheel, intense focus directed to the trams and wagons weaving ahead of them. The car agitates over the metal tramlines, as a brown Hovis truck cuts in front of the car, coercing Alfie to slam on the breaks.

'Oh fucking hell!'. His tone is booming as he reaches into his pocket , pulling out a pistol to aim at the offending driver. Arabella's mouth slowly drops open, capturing his arm and pulling the gun under the dashboard, obscuring it from view. With narrow eyes she quickly looks around to scan the area.

'Have you lost your mind, Alfie?'

'Treacle, these idiots, they only understand one language.'

'Well, lets not have you arrested on my first night in London, eh?'

A small grunt emits from his throat. He yanks his hand easily from her grip and stashes his gun back into his coat pocket.

'Suit yourself,' he grumbles. The car has been overtook now on more than one occasion, another headache to add to his list. Still, best not to piss her off on her first night and so he turns his eyes back to the road ahead and daydreams of shooting the bollocks off the Hovis driver.

Twisting an unstrung strand of hair repetitively around her finger, she can't help but think about where they are going. It's going to be her new home for the foreseeable future and given the volatile looking environment of his work place, Arabella isn't holding out hope.

Moments later, the noise level begins to filter away as if they have turned down a road that is miles from any civilisation. Thriving with colourful flora within well tended gardens, regency era town houses stand majestically at three stories and with the fanciest of facades. A short and stoutly older woman canters down the pavement, before turning right into one of the houses and desperately trying to manipulate two heavy shopping bags in order to open her gate. Alfie slows the car down to a stop and beeps his horn, making the poor woman almost jump to the moon, she briskly turns around.

'Oh, vey Alfie! Are you trying to bring me closer to God?' Alfie opens the car door and takes the bags from her hands, opening her cast iron gate with ease.

'What did I tell you Mrs Goldman, mhm? No lifting and carrying these heavy bags, eh? Ishmael can take you to the market and bring you back.'

'Ah Alfie that poor lad does everything, I don't need him helping me as well. I ask God not for a lighter burden but for broader shoulders'. She simpers at him with a twinkle behind her brown eyes that Arabella did not observe before the lady spoke with Alfie.

'Worryin' about you yeh, will be the death of me! Now, tell me that landlord of yours 'as sorted that broken light fixture?'

'He's getting round to it'.

'So, that'll be a no then?' Alfie furrows his brow, making it crease with line after line and tilts his head to the side. 'You need me to have a word with him?'

Mrs Goldman chuckles earnestly before pinching his cheek between her thumb and forefinger.

'Don't be a Schmuck Alfie, the last time you did that my rent went up to pay for his hospital bill. Now, who is this beauty you're sharing your car with hmm?'' Looking around Alfie's broad shoulders, her gaze falls on Arabella who feels rather sheepish under her matriarch stare. Sighing, he pinches the tension from the bridge of his nose. The last thing he needs is for Mrs Goldman to start shooting her mouth off at her knitting circle and have the whole of the Jewish community gossiping before he has had time to formulate how he can position Arabella into his life.

'It should be fuckin' noted right, that nothing gets past you'.

Catching Alfie unawares, she uses her now free hand to provide a sharp whack to the back of his head, making his eyes scrunch. Arabella's eyebrows curve upwards as she swallows down the urge to laugh.

'This is Arabella Shelby, the sister of one of my close business associates. She's going to be staying with me until she gets settled in London'.

So, that's how he plans to play this. Arabella exits the car.

'Nice to meet you Mrs. . . erm...'

'Goldman, dear'. She shakes Arabella's hand, her light touch and weak grip showing just how delicate she is. Alfie was right, she shouldn't have been carrying those bags.

'Please accept my apologies for Mr Solomons lack of manners, I assure you dear, he does possess them somewhere'. She sends her a wink.

'I'll let you know when the search party I've sent out, actually find them.'

This tickles the grey haired lady who stomps her foot letting out a huge guffaw and patting Arabella on the arm.

'I like her Alfie, she is sharp of tongue as well as looks'. She flashes him a knowing smile, one that makes him shift from foot to foot. Much as he likes Mrs Goldman, he can muster no interest in her insinuating words.

'Right, well as much as I'd like to stand here as if i'm fuckin' not and be insulted, we have to get going. Miss Shelby here 'as 'ad a rather eventful day so, goodbye Mrs Goldman'.

She throws a harried glance at Alfie before returning a polite smile at Arabella.

'Now my dear, just you remember that I am but five doors down and that makes us neighbours. Should this Mazik get to you, just pop on to my door and i'll make sure you're always greeted with a cup of tea and a listening ear.'

Alfie knew that her words served only to aggravate him. He places a hand on Arabella's arm to lead her back to the car and curses his poor decision making for stopping here in the first place.

'Lovely to meet you Mrs Goldman, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of one another'. Alfie's gentle push to the car, turns into a shove.

'I'm sure we will my dear, and it's Nelly to you.'

Alfie watches to make sure Mrs Goldman enters her house safely.

'Sister of a close business associate? Dread to think how you'll introduce me to people when I'm your wife.'

'Arabella, that woman has a mouth wider than the Thames, best to give her as little detail as possible and save her choking on gossip'.

Crossing her arm over her waist and tucking it in at her elbow, she turns toward her window. With a roll of his eyes, he starts up the car. They don't have to travel far before the vehicle is once again stationary. Straightening up in her seat, she observes the building in front of her. All of the houses on the street were identical in their architecture, stressed in uniformity – this one however, was built with a desire for individuality.

'There ya go, look. Home, sweet-fucking-home'. He walks around the car to help her out. She is mesmerised by the grand blossom tree that pushes the house into almost obscurity due to it's size, looming over the black front door. Pale pink pieces that have been wooed from the tree by the spring winds, gather under her feet, a reminder of life's fickleness. Concealing herself behind Alfie, her cautious spirit holds an inner negotiation with her resilience as they walk up a black and white tiled pathway. Inside the warmth of the house engulfs them both along with a nauseating charcoal smell. Her foot suddenly slides on something slippy on the marble floor. Bending down she picks up a folded piece of paper that is lay in the doorway. Alfie's name is written on it in the scrawled handwriting.

'Alright now, let's have a look and see if your suitcase has been dropped off... what's that?'

'You tell me, it's got your name on it.'

The blithe and animated Alfie Solomons she is getting to know is barely recognisable now as an ashen and turbulent man stands across from her, a wrathful look in his blue-green eyes. Frantically he grapples the paper from her hands and faces away from her to peek at the contents.

'Must be something awfully important'. She says, standing on tiptoes to see over his shoulders. The note buckles into pieces as he folds it in his fist, harshly.

'Who's asking you?' his quick-tempered reply takes her by surprise and she narrows her eyes at him, making him clear his throat.

'It's a betting tip if you must know. As an occasional bookmaker, I do need to keep a sharp eye out for the fastest horses'.

He stashes the note into his deep pocket. They both stand facing one another, Alfie towering over her by a good few inches. Neither of them speaking, just eyes setting fire to the other pair. The door at the end of the hall bursts open and commotion on four paws comes bounding excitedly towards his owner.

'Oh, 'ere he is look, the behemoth with a wagging tale. Ello mate, did you miss me?' Placing his hand onto his right hip, Alfie slowly bends down to fuss and stroke the solid bulk of his bull mastiff.

His incensed constitution replaced with playful humour by his four-legged friend. As if sensing the presence of a stranger, his dog bolts into an alert position and begins to bark anxiously and warningly at Arabella. Alfie prepares himself to calm down his probably panicked fiancé. He's not expecting the hand that comes to his elbow, pushing him aside as she crouches in front of the slobbering beast, offering her hand to smell.

'Hello, you. I've heard so much about you, don't you know?' She strokes her hand roughly over the top of the dog's head, which he immediately cocks and begins to excitedly wag his tail. 'See, your gruff and tough owner here is a huge softy when it comes to you, he doesn't shut up about you'. Alfie watches on as she undauntedly makes a fuss, not caring about the amount of froth being drooled onto what looks like an expensive, if not gaudy, coat.

'Well, his name is Cyril and he's supposed to be an all powerful and protective breed, but I will acknowledge that it appears I was fuckin' lied to about that'. He crinkles his forehead as he watches Cyril gracelessly roll onto his back so Arabella can rub at his belly.

'Well I think he's just perfect., i'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire.

'Let's see if you're still saying that when he's all over you at five in the morning because he wants to go out for a piss'.

Arabella looks up at him and shakes her head. 'I can see Cyril here holds all the power in this house'.

'Oh yeh? An how do you work that out?'

She pushes herself up to standing and offers him a condescending smile. 'Because Alfie, power lies in loyalty and I can see how dyed-in-the-wool you are with him'.

'That so? Well, lets see where my loyalty gets him tomorrow when Edna sees these muddy paw prints on her mopped floor'.

'Edna?'

He scratches Cyril behind his ears as he steps closer to her.

'My maid. Lovely woman she is, reminds me of me Mother. You'll meet her tomorrow. Now, do you wanna see your new home?'

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

Arabella piano-plays her fingertips on the dark walnut dressing table, listening to the rain outside as it pelts the windows and drips from the alien roof. She could float half way to heaven as she kicks off her slippers and the plush carpet hugs at her swollen feet. Alfie has spent some of the evening showing her around his impressive home. A big house, one she dreamed of owning as a child with it's polished wooden floors and graceful bannisters. Nothing like her Small Heath dwellings. Is it possible she is beginning to get homesick for a place she isn't even sure exists? One with love and where her soul is understood. However, when he had shown her the fully plumbed copper bath tub, she was ready to say 'i- do' post haste.

Alfie is steadfast becoming a curious paradox – his abode is a beautiful palace, gleaming with a spotless silence. It's king, all the same is harsh and unpredictable with a flare of intelligence and good looks. Although she is hasten to admit it, he intrigues her.

Until Tommy sorts the delivery of the rest of her things, all of her is compacted into the small suitcase that she pulls from the bed to put away She puts on her nightie, a soft cream silk slip – although well worn, still immaculate. After an argument with Alfie regarding sleeping arrangements, they finally agreed that they should be adult enough to share a bed to make their relationship more realistic to his house staff. Standing in front of the floor length, mirror she watches as his mother's locket swings off her neck like a stranger. She pats the soft garment over her stomach - full from a delicious stew his maid had prepared, which she enjoyed alone. Alfie has secreted himself in his downstairs office and she has not seen sight nor sound of him all night..

The sound of smashing glass makes her jump, she can hear the thundering voice of Alfie barking out words she can't make out. Whatever the furore is, it's emanating from the upstairs landing. She quickly steps out of the room and sees the bathroom door ajar. Inside Alfie is desperately trying to wrestle Cyril inside a large fluffy towel. The floor around him is immersed in water and Alfie's shirt is saturated.

'Cyril, keep-the-fuck-still'. His fractious tone echoes off the bathroom tiles as he battles against his dog.

'Alfie, do you need some help?'

'No we've got this under control, ain't we boy'. As Cyril succumbs to submission, allowing his master to begin to towel dry his fur, Alfie looks up to acknowledge Arabella, his eyes immediately give her a once over and he feels the inside of his throat dry up as he spots her legs. Cyril takes advantage of his master's distraction and bounds his way out of the towel, bouncing his head off the copper bath in the process, before galloping his way to Arabella.

'Cyril! Ya daft, mad cunt! Get back 'ere now!' Taking not a ounce of notice, Cyril jumps frenziedly onto Arabella, wet paws pushing away at her.

'Get off 'er now ya demented lad! CYRIL! Fuck sake!'

Uncontrollable barks bite their way back at Alfie who is now tugging at his dog's paws, trying to gain purchase to pull him off her, flattened and trapped as she is against the wall.

'Fuckin' hell Cyril, what are you playing at, get off. . . stop trying to wrestle . . .CYRIL! I'm warning y. . . '

'SIT!' Her voice is loud and stern as she points to the floor with a free hand. Cyril obeys and sits down, Arabella following him to the ground, untwisting the towel from around Alfie's fisted hands and slowly patting down Cyril's blubbery body. The dog sits calmly, with his head held up majestically as if he is content in being obedient for her.

'Right fuckin' turncoat ya are Cyril. Get one whiff of a woman and you forget about me, eh?' He folds his arms and leans against the door frame, watching as Arabella softly finishes drying.

'It's all in the tone, Alfie. You have to be stern not erratic'. She stands up smugly in front of him.

'S'at so?' He looks her up and down once more, only this time he notices just how wet Cyril has made her and he swallows hard. The light fabric of her night dress is now translucent and he can make out the shape of her ample breasts and the enticing colouring of her nipples. The quick glance he gets before looking away is like a blow to his chest. Her body is certainly holding his interest but he knows he can't take any more of her in. He does not want to look at all, but this was unavoidable.

Clearing his throat and picking up the towel from Cyril, he gestures to her chest.

'You might need this, to erm cover . . . ' She looks down and immediately covers her chest with her arms, taking the towel from him to dry off.

'I'm sorry about Cyril, he can be a right lunatic when he wants to be.'

'They're just tits, Alfie', she says as she notices how he has turned his body away from her.

'No, they're not just tits- they're yours and it's not up to my maniacal dog to expose them because he can't keep bloody still'. He moves past her into the bedroom and reappearing a few seconds later.

'You can wear this if you like, whilst you dry that off. I promise it's clean'. He hands her one of his white shirts which she gladly accepts.

'You're nothing like I thought you would be, Alfie'.

'Yeh?' He moves closer to her. 'That's because, right, true power lies in the unexpected'. They both stare at the other, as if taking notes, before he breaks the chain and walks away toward the staircase.

'Cyril, come on', he pats his leg and Cyril follows, leaving her flustered on the landing. Was it possible that Solomons possessed a more human side that contradicts his reputation? She turns away from the stairs and hurries into the bathroom to change. Closing the door, she notices Alfie's black wool coat hanging from the hook. The coat he placed his secretive letter in earlier. An uneasy feeling washes over her, she always respects privacy, to her far too many people can't live in silence for fear of missing applause from an audience who don't even care. She has to see what has him so vexed though - if she wants to be ahead of him and her brother then she has to do some necessary digging. Before she can talk herself out of it, she plunges her hand into his pocket and pulls out the piece of paper. As she turns it over she can see that this is not the same note. This is a pink betting slip- after further rummaging, she realises he has moved the note elsewhere.

'Fuck' she says, annoyed. One final glance and she sees what looks like a phone number on the back.. She leaves the bathroom in a hurry, her hand concealing the slip.

TAG LIST: @clintbartoris @gameofpot @doomwhathouwilt @lokigirlszendaya @inkinterrupted @misselsbells06 @sunshineyourethebesttime

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

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Bloom // H.P.

Summary: Healing doesn't happen overnight. It’s a process that can take months, if not, years to come to terms with. It’s been five years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War. Harry finally feels ready to confront feelings that have long been sat, growing unattended in the recesses of his mind and soul.

A/N: This was inspired by the made-up fic title that I did a few weeks ago. I got so stuck on this, I couldn't get any further, but inspiration somewhat struck and here we are. I know this is long, but I am so so proud of this, I would love some interaction with this. Take a chance, please.

Warnings: feelings of sadness, grief, worthlessness, more visits to graveyards, talks of death. This sounds dark, and parts are, but there is so much fluff and comfort and pining in this.

Word count: 9.4k

Harry’s Flat, London, England, October.

For the fourth night this week, sleep evades him. Deciding to surrender this particular battle, Harry sits up in bed and reaches for his glasses on the bedside table.

With clearer vision, he turns to the digital clock next to where he places his glasses. He hangs his head in his hands when he reads the time. not even two hours of sleep before he awoke; his mind unwilling to alleviate him long enough for him to fall into a dreamless sleep.

He supposes it could be a good thing, or at least, that’s what he tells himself as he throws the covers off his body and swings his legs out of bed. As he sits on the edge of his bed, Harry gives himself a moment.

He gives himself only a single moment to give into the tidal wave threatening to drown him. A single moment simply to feel everything before he packs it all away into corresponding drawers in his mind.

A heavy sigh leaves him as he plods into the living room and through to the kitchen. As he boils the kettle, he thinks of you and your ingrained belief that everything can be put to rights over a cup of tea.

Settling in the living room, he grabs the remotes for the television. Turning it on, he switches the volume to mute, not wanting loud noises, but rather the comfort of monotonous moving pictures. Harry cannot tell what the programme is; a muggle show dedicated to archaeology, he thinks, but he pays it little mind.

He runs a hand down his face; feeling the tiredness deep within his bones. The insomnia had started in the months after the end of the war; beginning with repetitive nightmares in which he would suffer through the deaths of his friends countless times before being awoken by the sounds of his own screams. From there, it shifted into a fear of sleep, a terror of closing his eyes and seeing Hermione’s or Ron’s lifeless bodies. He knows – he knows they are alive and well, but the fear remains.

He wonders how long he’ll continue to feel like this should do nothing; how long he will deal with the sleepless nights and the nightmares that greet him when he does close his eyes.

However, as he watches the soundless pictures play on the television, he cannot help but feel an urge to get better. To do better and to be better in all that he does. At the age of eighteen, he defeated the darkest wizard to have ever walked the earth in the last century. At the age of twenty three, five years later, he feels close to laughter that he has let his life come to this.

But no-one warned him of the aftermath of the war. No-one readied him for the feelings of guilt that twists his stomach; leaving him unable to eat. No-one explained to him just how long the nightmares would last; seeing the faces of those that fell at the battle of Hogwarts and before as he tries and tries to dream of happy things.

Harry’s bottom lip begins to wobble. The tears won’t fall. It’s been years, Harry thinks, since he had cried in earnest.

As Harry sits on his couch for the fourth night that week, he readies himself to start putting his life back together again.

The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, October.

The Burrow had always, to Harry at least, been a place full of happy memories. The home of the Weasley family physically exuded warmth and happiness. To put it bluntly, it was Harry’s safe haven; the place he could go where he would find no judgement for his state of sleeplessness or lack of appetite. He would catch Molly watching him worriedly, but she knew not to press, and for that, he was thankful. To appease her worries, or at least to lessen them slightly, he visits the Weasley matriarch once a week.

Immediately, Harry is wrapped up in hug after hug. Molly keeping her hands on Harry’s cheeks as she moves his head side to side, getting a good look at him. She clamps her lips together to keep the frown from forming on her face; worry rises in her gut, but she does not voice it.

The food cooking on the stove has Harry’s mouth watering as he walks through the kitchen to the large table in the dining area. There, he finds your eyes. They remain on the door as he walks through, as if you knew it wouldn’t be long before he entered.

“Mate,” Ron greets; pushing a drink into Harry’s hand. Harry nods at Ron, taking a swig of his drink before smiling at Hermione.

He moves to sit next to you; wanting nothing more than to sit by your side so he can tell his plan of which he came up with by himself. All around him conversation continues as if he had never walked in in the first place. He supposes that’s bit big-headed of him to think, but as he looks around those he classes as his family, he comes to realisation that they’ve all started to move on.

It hits him then and there; just how terrified he is of being left behind.

“How have you been?” You ask; voice gentle and caring as you lean into him.

Harry smiles at you; spooning vegetables onto his plate but feeling no pangs of hunger. “You just saw me last week,” Harry reminds in humour; his attempt at avoiding the twinges of fear ravaging his gut.

You roll your eyes, “That means it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. So, how have you been?”

Harry hears the meaning in your words; he hears the undercurrent of worry in your voice, and it only adds to the pit growing in his stomach. After his decision the other night, it was as if all the realisations hit him at once and he came to see just how much of a bad friend he had been to you all. He’d had been so caught up in his self-loathing that he failed to see just how much you were struggling with it all; he hadn’t even noticed that Ron and Hermione had also sought out help too.

Harry nods; reaching for his knife and fork, “I’ve been okay.”

Even he can hear the lie in his voice, and it makes him sick to his stomach. Thankfully, you don’t address it. You simply nod; patting his hand twice before turning your attention to your own meal.

Cutlery scrapes on plates as happy conversation lightens the atmosphere. It isn’t mentioned, but it is there – the absence of Fred’s laughter and his smile, the pointed comments, and his love for his mother. It is there, and it only adds to the guilt pooling in Harry’s stomach and invading his bloodstream.

It’s as if you sense it; as if you sense Harry starting to spiral, his thoughts turning to that dark place that he so often finds himself in. It’s as if you know; changing the hand in which your fork sits to free up your other hand so you can take Harry’s under the table and squeeze. A silent reminder if there is any.

I’m here, you remind him, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

Harry squeezes back; unable to do or say anything else, meeting Arthur Weasley’s pained eyes from across the table, and beginning to wish that he had in fact done and said more.

At the age of eighteen years old, harry defeated the darkest wizard in a century. Yet, he had lost a friend he had classed as a brother, and now finds it hard to look Molly and Arthur in the eye.

There is a lapse in conversation and Harry slips his hand free of yours, needing to leave the room before the guilt he’s sitting in drowns him. He smiles apologetically at each Weasley, eyes lingering on the empty chair across from George and promptly leaves the room.

The night air is cold against Harry’s bare arms as he sits on one of the many benches littering the Weasley’s gardens. It’s so cold that his breath is coming out in white puffs, but he doesn’t feel the need to fetch his coat. In fact, he would rather feel the cold against his skin. It reminds him that he’s alive and that he’s breathing. It reminds him of those are who no longer living.

He stiffens at the sounds of footsteps behind him; his hand immediately reaching for his wand kept in his back pocket.

Harry relaxes somewhat when he realises it was you who followed him outside, and not Ron or Hermione. He doesn’t turn, but he smiles when he hears you swear quietly, having tripped on a rogue stone.

You sigh as you sit down on the bench next to him; rubbing at your sore knee.

“How are you not freezing?” You ask; rubbing at your clothed arms, not happy with the chill seeping through to your bones.

Harry releases a breath; it puffs white, “I don’t feel it.”

You raise an eyebrow; running a finger over his arm which is covered in goosebumps, “I beg to differ.”

Harry doesn’t reply; he flashes a smile your way before returning his attention to the night sky and all that he can see of what the Weasley’s own. For a few minutes, no words are spoken between you both. Sinking into a silence that could only be described as comfortable; he doesn’t feel the constant need to reassure you that he’s okay. You check in on him every now and then, but no true pestering takes place.

Truthfully, Harry basks in your attention. He rather likes the fact that you do make a fuss of him when you check in on him because he’s sure that without you, he would be doing a lot worse than the nightmares and insomnia.

Breaking the silence, you broach the subject of Harry’s health, “Harry, can I give you the name and number of my therapist? I’ve made real progress since working with her, and I think you will too.”

Harry smiles at you; feeling grateful for your help but feeling like an awful friend for shaking his head and declining your offer. “I just… I don’t feel ready yet to speak to someone.”

You nod your head, “I get that, but Harry, it’s been five years since the end of the war, and you know how I worry.”

He nods, letting the conversation collapse into nothing in front of him. This is the time, he realises, to tell you his plans for getting better that don’t involve divulging his deepest and darkest secrets to a stranger, even if they are a trained professional.

“I have a favour to ask you,” Harry prompts, “And I’ll understand if you say no.”

“If I can help you, Harry, I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want to speak to anyone, not yet at least, but I do want to start moving on.”

“So what’s the favour?” You ask; your curiosity piqued with his mystery.

“I want to visit the places where things have happened, whether they’re good or bad. I want to go back, and I want to see them in a different light.”

“That,” You pause; thinking of your next words, “That sounds like a really good idea, Harry. Where do I come into it though?”

Harry smiles at you sheepishly; running a hand through his forever messy hair. “I want you to come with me,” He states as plain as day.

“What?”

“I’d like for you to come with me,” Harry amends, “I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

“What about Ron or Hermione? I’m sure they would help.”

Harry shakes his head, “They’re both so busy, and they’re starting their lives together. I don’t want to dredge up bad memories for either of them if I can help it.”

You sigh, picking at an invisible thread on your sleeve, “How were you thinking of doing this? I have to work too, you know. Not everyone can inherit a fortune, Potter.”

Harry blinks, letting your words settle before a small smile breaks across his face, “You’d come with me?”

“Harry,” You start, “I don’t think there was any chance of me saying no to you. If I can help you in any way, I can. I’m always here for you.”

The familiar burn of tears starts at the back of his throat. Harry has to avert his eyes; glancing up at the night sky as he swallows past the lump in his throat. He should have known you would say yes; you’ve been by his side for everything since Third Year, but the small voice in the back of his mind had him doubting whether you would.

“Thank you,” He whispers eventually.

“So,” You begin, “Where too first?”

Grimmauld Place, Islington, London, November.

Upon the untimely death of Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix had been passed down to Harry through Sirius’ will. Sirius had no children for the house to go to, but Harry was as good as.

Standing on a residential street in Islington, you watched as the house appeared as if from nowhere. Appearing amongst number eleven and number thirteen as if it had always been there; as if it was part of the furniture at this point.

Thick dust covers each and every surface. Simply opening the door sends a cloud of dust into your face; leaving you coughing and sneezing as Harry battles the enchantments placed upon the home after the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Turning your gaze to Harry, you could remember the last time you had stepped foot in the ancestral home of the house of Black. It hadn’t been long after Sirius’ death; Harry’s gut-wrenching screams still echoing in your ears as you had bundled him up in any blankets you could find and sat him down at the kitchen table.

He hadn’t spoken much; he hadn’t even cried. Instead, his face set in steely determination, his desperate need to avenger his godfather overriding any common sense. That night, instead of comforting him and drying his eyes, it had been argument after argument, trying to make Harry see sense.

It took hours; the both of you tired not only from the arguing but from the grief sitting on your shoulders. It took hours, but Harry eventually agreed with you, choosing to sit back and wait for the right moment instead of lunging headfirst into attack that would surely get him killed.

Memory after memory washes over you, dragging you into its grips. If the memories are this strong for you, it was not hard to imagine how it must be for Harry.

You focus your attention on him, watching him warily as he wanders further down the hallway, heading for the kitchen where you still expect to hear Sirius’ raucous laugh despite years having passed since his death.

“How are you feeling?” You ask; running a finger across the now clean surface of the kitchen table.

Harry releases a shuddering breath. “I thought,” He starts, “I thought by coming here it would help me come to terms with Sirius and what happened in the Department of Mysteries but being here simply makes me hate his family more.”

“What makes you say that?”

Harry gestures to the large room. “He hated being here. He despised being locked up in the house that he left at sixteen, but he wanted to help the Order, so he stayed here and let it be used as the headquarters.”

“That… That is a very noble thing to do,” You murmur, eyes fixed on the man in front of you, taking in his tight fists and clenched jaw.

Harry laughs without humour, “The noble house of Black.”

Silence lapses and the tension in the room only increases. Biting your lip, you can only think that this was the wrong thing to do, that this is only pushing Harry further away instead of helping him come to terms with the last years of his life.

“We can leave, Harry,” You remind him, “We can leave right now and do this another day, when you’re more ready.”

He shakes his head, shaking himself out of his funk but also steadfastly refusing to go. He’s made this far; he’ll see it through to the end. He throws you a smile; it doesn’t reach his eyes and your heart cracks a little.

Holding a hand out to you, Harry states, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

The room he enters is one he has told you about countless times; describing it with so much detail that as you enter the room behind him you feel as if you’ve already been inside.

It cannot be denied that the tapestry is nothing short of piece of art. It cannot be ignored that the depth of detail to the Black family tree is not breathtaking, but at the same time it is so utterly heartbreaking to see the scorch marks litter the walls. The consequence of turning against one’s own family, you think as you step further into the room, taking in its beauty but also its darkness.

“The noble house of Black,” Harry spits, gesturing to four walls, pointing at each scorch mark before settling on the one that once showed the portrait of his beloved godfather.

“He got out,” He states brokenly, “He left his blood family to live with his found family. He had a life ahead of him. He had my father, he had Remus. He had his family, and it was all taken away in one night. In one night, Sirius lost his best friend and then his freedom.

“And all I feel when I think about Sirius is anger. At how he was treated. He was good, (Y/N),” Harry states, his tone pleading, full of emotion, “He was good, and he was treated like shit. His real family didn’t care but his found family did and then he lost all of it.”

“He found you, Harry,” You remind him, “Sirius found you. You didn’t have half as long with him than what you should have, but he made sure to be involved in your life. After the Triwizard Tournament and you had come back with Cedric, Sirius would not leave your side in the hospital. I remember seeing him every morning and he would stay every night. He loved you, Harry – remember that.”

“And what did I do?” Harry laughs, “I got him killed. Some godson I am.”

“Harry, you are not to blame for Sirius’ death.”

He scoffs, disbelief and derision echoing off the walls. You stalk over the green eyed man, your determination growing with every step. You grab his face in both your hands, bringing his face to your level, “Listen to me, Potter. Are you listening?”

He nods, eyes wide and voice silent.

“Good,” You smirk before turning serious. “You are not to blame for Sirius’ death. He knew what was happening in the Department of Mysteries. He knew that there was a chance he was not going to come out of there alive and he still went in to find you, to protect you.”

“If I had paid more attention to what Voldemort showed me though… I could have figured out it was fake…”

You shake your head, “You were a sixteen year old boy, barely trained in occlumency and legilimency. You weren’t to know that what you had seen was fake. All you saw, Harry, was someone you care about being tortured. You acted on instinct.”

“Foolish instinct,” He argues.

You roll your eyes, “Not foolish at all. More brave than foolish.”

Harry remains silent; letting your words sink into his skin, binding them to his bones. It isn’t going to be as simple as one speech and all is forgiven, it is going to take time to forgive himself for the death of his godfather. There is always going to be an element of himself that believes strongly that he was the cause of Sirius’ death; if he hadn’t acted so rashly, if he had stopped to think things through, to go over exactly what Voldemort had shown him, Harry might have been able to delay Sirius’ death.

If, if, if.

If, if, if. He repeats that word; hindsight is a wonderful thing. If he had done this, if he had done that. Hindsight was going to be the death of him.

Harry focuses his attention back on you and the warmth of your hands on either side of his face. Gently, Harry places his hands on top of yours, “Can you let go of me now?”

You smile before pursing your lips, pretending to think through the answer. “I don’t know,” You ponder, “Are you going to continue to argue with me?”

“Probably,” Harry admits, “But I’m ready to go now.”

Harry lets his hands drop from yours, his eyes running over your face before stepping back. Your hands drop to your sides, clenching as if they wished to be touching him some more. His face feels cold now that you’ve let him go, as if all the warmth his body carried was in your hands.

“Do you think you’ll come back?” You ask, unable to help yourself.

Harry pauses, closing the door to the Black family tree behind him. He looks up and down the hallway; thinking of the memories he has cherished over the years. He had Sirius in his life for far shorted than he deserved, but he had Grimmauld Place to help him discover the man he idolised.

Meeting your stare, he nods. “I think I will eventually.”

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scottish Highlands, December.

It didn’t matter how long it had been since your last visit; it didn’t matter how long it had been since you roamed the corridors of the place you once considered your second home, seeing Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry rise out of the Scottish Highlands would never be something you could get used to.

From your spot in Hogsmeade, you can just make out the turrets of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw towers. Slight unease spreads through your chest as you think back to the last time you had been at the school; still a student, hurling curses and jinxes at any Death Eater that happened by you.

Reflexively, you curl your hands into fists, your fingernails biting into the soft flesh of your palms. You gasp slightly as the pain; your mind becoming clearer and your focus becoming sharper. Harry’s hand takes yours; unfurling your fingers and replacing them with him, tangling your hands together.

“(Y/N), are you okay?”

You take a deep breath; mentally working through the exercises given to you by your therapist,. Shakily, you smile at Harry, “I’m okay, Harry, don’t worry about me. How are you feeling?”

His eyebrows furrow as he squeezes your hand. “I’ll always worry about you,” He says gently before continuing, “I’ll be okay though. I have you.”

You smile weakly; letting yourself be led through the well-worn path from Hogsmeade to the school. Small conversation is made; Harry bringing up happier memories of your education at the magical castle. The time when Ron received a Howler from his mother; the time when Hermione punched Draco Malfoy in the face.

Happier times now turned to memories; each one tinted with age.

Hogwarts soon looms in front of you both. Harry’s hand tightens on yours, fingers squeezing to the point of cutting off blood flow as he leads you into the grounds of the school.

It feels like coming home, but it also feels like facing your worst enemy. The Battle of Hogwarts had been hard on everyone who found themselves there; it had been hard for students and teachers. You would never forget the screams and the sound of breaking stone. It would be a long while until the sight of dead bodies could be scrubbed from your mind.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall greets from the stairs; voice warm and fond, “To what do we the pleasure of this visit with Miss (Y/L/N)?”

“I was hoping to walk the school and its grounds for a bit, Professor. If you don’t mind, that is. I’m trying to get better,” Harry states; sincerity ringing in his voice so much so that even McGonagall looked to be taken aback by his words.

She nods; finding her voice but needing to clear her throat first of all the emotion he had brought up, “Of course, Potter. Take as long as you need.”

Harry smiles at the beloved Professor gratefully, stretching out a hand towards you. You take it, resisting the urge to tangle your fingers together as Harry leads you to the Great Hall. “Where do you want to start?” You ask; eyes scanning the familiar walls, lingering on the Gryffindor table.

“I don’t know,” Harry admits, sounding lost as his eyes dance around the repaired room.

“It’s strange for me too,” You whisper, voice loud in the cavernous hall.

“It was entirely destroyed,” Harry recalls, sweeping his gaze over the large wall of windows by the Ravenclaw table.

You hope up on the closest table, crossing your legs as you watch Harry work through it all in his mind. He hadn’t been in the hall too long, but even that was long enough to have to branded into your memories.

“The tables were pushed back against the wall,” He states, gesturing to both walls before sweeping his hands above the floor, “And bodies were laid out on the floor, resting on blankets and towels,” Harry turns towards the staff table, pointing to a flagstone just in front of it, “That was where Fred laid – Molly and George crying over his body,” Harry spins, his finger now pointing back in the direction of the Ravenclaw table, “Remus and Tonks rested there. Teddy, my Godson, now an orphan… like me.”

“So many lives lost,” He whispers brokenly; eyes lined with tears that won’t fall, no matter how sad or broken he feels.

You slip off the table, going to his side and clutching his hand. “We lost a lot that day,” You whisper, “There isn’t a person here who doesn’t feel that same loss, Harry.”

“I was terrified of finding you laid out in the Great Hall,” Harry admits though not for his own good; he’s coming too close to admitting his feelings for you, but this is something he had never told a living soul, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to tell you.

“What?” You ask, all thoughts emptying out of your head as you focus on Harry entirely.

“I was terrified of finding you in the Great Hall. I was so scared that I even hesitated at the door, wondering whether to walk in or walk away. I have dealt with a lot, and will continue to deal with a lot, but if there is one thing I cannot cope with the idea of, it is you hurt or worse,” He takes a deep breath, “The Battle of Hogwarts brought that out of me.”

“I’m here, Harry,” You reassure, “I’m here and I’m whole.”

“I know that now, but then I didn’t and even thinking of it drives me close to madness.”

“I wouldn’t leave without saying anything,” You laugh, “You know that Harry.”

Harry laughs, but there’s no heart to it. “I have you now, that’s something.”

Your heart skips a beat; thudding in your chest so loud you believe that it is entirely possible that Harry could hear it pounding away in your chest. You lean in, hiding your face in Harry’s shoulder – a rare moment of tenderness from both of you. Harry’s hand slips from yours to wrap around your waist, holding you to his body.

Hiding your smile in Harry’s shoulder, you murmur as loud as you dare, “You have me now, Harry. You have me forever.”

Neither of you make it further around the grounds of the castle; sticking to its interiors, wandering the corridors when students are firmly placed in classrooms, not wanting to be a distraction to their education.

Harry’s words continue to play through your mind; how he would not be able to cope if he lost you too. It makes this all more important for you, helping him come to terms with what he has experienced in such a short amount of time.

However, a small part of you rejoices in his admission, the words echoing in your head with a hint of hope. A hope that Harry may feel the same as you after all.

Hogwarts is left with a wave to McGonagall and a promise to write soon. Harry’s muscles relax the further he gets from the castle; the tension leeching away as he breathes in fresh air and Hogsmeade comes into view. He adored Hogwarts; it was his home, but he had to admit that it would be a while before he could face the whole castle without wanting to scream at the walls.

It’s a start however, Harry thinks as he grabs your hands and apparates the two of you back to his flat. It’s a start, he thinks, and now for the rest of it.

Little Hangleton, England, January.

Little Hangleton resides six miles from its paired village Great Hangleton. Little Hangleton was very much a village that was powered through gossip; the rumour mill only grew upon the deaths of the Riddle family. By the time an arrest had been made, the town had become judge, jury and executioner – sentencing poor Frank Bryce to a life of social exclusion even after being proven innocent.

Little Hangleton is made up of one main high street; five or six shops with a pub near the middle. It has a small village green where the local cricket team likes to practice every Saturday morning. It isn’t an extraordinary village; plain in comparison to other dwellings, but it’s history with the Riddle family would go down in wizarding lore until the end of days.

Harry continues to hold onto your hand long after you apparate into the village, landing in side street rather than in the high street as not to attract too much attention from the villagers. You refuse to be the first to let go; admitting to yourself that you rather like the way his hands fits in yours, how it feels like a steady anchor holding you in place.

Taking one look at the dark haired man next to you, you knew in your gut that this was going to be a hard day for him. Harry doesn’t talk about his nightmares often, but form what he has told you, this picturesque village features enough that you can see the tension line Harry’s jawline.

Nudging his shoulder, you smile softly, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry’s hand tightens on yours. He doesn’t reply verbally; nods his head and focuses on finding his destination. He can’t verbalise his gratefulness; he cannot put it into words just what this means to him because Harry is fairly certain there are no words to cover the scope of what he feels for you in this very moment.

He knew he was asking a lot of you to keep doing this; to visit these places and relive his darkest times with him. He knew it affected you more than you admitted, but he still was selfishly grateful you choose to come every time.

He thinks that he wouldn’t have been as half as productive with his feelings if it wasn’t for you. Harry’s feelings for you only having grown through these visits; he remains in awe of you, as he always has been, but now he can no longer deny himself the depth of his love for you. To deny himself that would be a grievous crime.

However, even Harry is aware that he is nowhere ready to confront the idea of a relationship. In the last few months, he has only been able to accept that Sirius’ death and your injuries at the Battle of Hogwarts were not his fault.

He has to keep working on himself; he has to keep healing so he can be worthy of a love like his parents had.

So for now, Harry is more than content to hold your hand with each apparition, to savour the way your hand fits in his perfectly and how each squeeze of your fingers sets his heart racing.

For now, Harry is happy to remain in the throes of puppy love, but still eager for the day when he can proclaim his love for you in the hopes that you feel the same.

Such thoughts are thrown out of his head when his eyes catch the sign for graveyard. His steps falter, before coming to a brief stop by the sign. Your free hand touches his arm and Harry turns to you, seeing the question reflected in your eyes.

“Are you ready?” He asks, voicing the unspoken question.

You nod, “Ready when you are.”

The graveyard looks just as it did all those years ago; dark and miserable.

You shiver as Harry pushes open the creaky metal gate. He holds the gate open for you out of politeness, but he does not return your smile of gratitude. Harry keeps his facial expression neutral as he turns to face the memories that still plague him all these years later.

His eyes run over the gravestones as he puts one wary foot in front of the other. You follow behind him timidly, footsteps slower as you too read over the names written in marble, granite, limestone.

It doesn’t take long to find the place. Harry’s feet take him there automatically despite the fact that the last time he was here, he had been apparated in and did not walk out.

The Reaper stands proudly among the gravestones; his scythe crossed against his body in readiness. Harry stills, coming to a stop in front of it. He tilts his face; staring into the faceless stone hood of the figure that had him trapped like prey all those years ago.

Harry doesn’t turn from the figure as he points directly behind him. “That is where he killed Cedric,” He states bluntly, hearing the thud the Hufflepuff’s body made as he landed lifeless at Harry’s side.

Your eyes leave Harry; body tensing as you make eye contact with the patch of grass that would be the last thing to touch Cedric’s body.

Harry finally turns; gaining control of the anger and upset that had been raging in his body since landing at the graveyard gates. He needs to approach this carefully; he needs to approach all of this carefully, so he doesn’t fall back into the dark pit he found himself in months ago.

Harry gestures to the centre of the small copse and then to the Reaper, “That is where I had to watch as Voldemort rose again.”

“Oh Harry…” You whisper, voice breaking as you say his name.

Harry’s eyes shutter closed, and his bottom lip begins to wobble. He had been fourteen years old; he had not had his first kiss and yet, he had to duel the darkest wizard to have been produced in a century.

“I thought I was going to die that night,” He confesses after a moment; opening his eyes to once again focus on the faceless depiction of Death himself. “I thought I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it.”

Resolve steels your nerves and once again, your feet find their way to Harry.

“You did make it out, Harry. You made it out alive.”

“Two of us went in, (Y/N).”

“It can’t be ignored,” You start, “Cedric’s death was an utter tragedy; completely unexpected and blindsided everyone in the school, but you cannot blame yourself for this, Harry. Cedric died at the hands of a madman – not you.”

“I could have done something!” He screams, finally losing all grip on his temper, “I should have done something. Instead, as Wormtail murdered Cedric, all I did was shout his name as if it was going to help. I did nothing, I as good as murdered him.”

Breath leaves your body in one fell swoop; you had never seen Harry like this. He runs both hands through his hair in frustration as he tries to get a hold on his temper, reigning it in. You remain silent as Harry works to control himself; you watch him pace the small copse, flattening the green grass under his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, breaking the silence, “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

“Harry,” You sigh, “I am more than capable of handling you shouting at me.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong though, and I just take everything out on you.”

You laugh, short and sweet, “I think this is the first time you’ve ever shouted at me, Potter.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I try not to make a habit of shouting at my friends,” Harry states, throwing you a look that states the obvious.

Wringing your hands together, you brace yourself for your next words. Meeting Harry’s stare, fixing your gaze on him, you politely demand, “Tell me more about that night, Harry.”

So he does.

It comes rushing out of him in a torrent; words flying so fast that his speech gets muddled up and he sometimes has to say his sentences again. For so long he has been holding this in; there are very few people who know what happened that night in this very graveyard and out of those, many are dead or imprisoned so Harry has been left to deal with the pain.

It feels like a confession. It feels as if he is seeking forgiveness from his crimes; seeking repentance from a priest of his choosing because he needs to get it out, he needs to know whether penance is possible for the sins committed that night.

Harry feels as if a weight is being lifted off his chest as he tells you about duelling Voldemort and the spell that had taken place beforehand. Harry seeks solace in your comforting gaze and reassuring smile as his voice breaks when he speaks of his parents, not having seen them in any physical form since that night with the Mirror of Erised.

Once he starts, he finds it hard to stop. He stutters over his feelings over Cedric’s death, pausing once in a while to let you interject a thought and for the first time since starting this exercise, since asking you to come along with him, Harry feels as if it is starting to work.

Eventually, his voice falls quiet as does his mind.

“How do you feel?” You ask; an expected question that accompanies each location visited.

Harry nods, “Better. Happy to have finally said what happened that night.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell you.”

“I trust you with my life,” He states honestly and plainly.

You bite your lip, averting your gaze to wander across the dark graveyard once more before finally turning to face Harry. “Are you ready?”

Harry nods: more than happy to leave this place and never return. What happened in Little Hangleton will always remain a heartbreaking tragedy; a life cruelly taken before it even got the chance to begin. The village would always be stained with such misfortune, but now, Harry feels that part of his life come to a close.

As Harry reaches for your hand, readying himself to apparate you back to your flat, his heart soars at the words you utter with conviction.

“You’re a good man, Harry.”

--------

Landing back at his flat, Harry takes a seat on his couch and hangs in his head in his hands. He had dropped you off at your flat; needing to be alone to deal with the emotions that had been threatening to suffocate him from the inside out. Whilst Harry had accepted that he played no part in Cedric’s death, he still had to confront the magnitude of what had happened to himself.

It hits him all at once; the scale of what he had been through throughout his education. From the ages of eleven to eighteen, Harry hadn’t seen a school year through without injury or battle. It’s as he sits there that he realises the extent to which he was used by the headmaster he looked up to; used as a pawn to further the game of chess being played by Dumbledore and Voldemort.

The waves never cease; his parents, Sirius, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, and Cedric.

No tears fall; he isn’t sure he has the capacity to cry anymore. Tears haven’t fallen since they fell out relief for the end of the war, but out of sadness for the deaths of Fred, Remus, and Tonks.

Sitting on his couch, shivers overtake his body. His teeth chattering as he reaches for the blanket kept across the back of his couch, wrapping it around his shoulders. Harry bites back the scream that is slowly crawling up his throat; he pushes it down as he fights for control of his mind.

Collecting his thoughts, Harry comes to a conclusion.

He needs to return to where it all began.

Godric’s Hollow, West Country, England, March.

Spring blooms real and true, and Harry feels ready enough to return to Godric’s Hollow. Harry could count on one hand how many times he has stepped foot in the village his parents once called home. He had been born in Godric’s Hollow; at the end of July to two loving parents who adored him just as much as they adored each other.

Out of respect for James and Lily Potter – murdered at the age of twenty-one – the house in which they lived had never been repaired. The thatched roof remains caved in; a large hole in the middle of it, letting the elements now batter the house.

It had been twenty-two years since Harry had stepped foot inside the house he was born in. It had been five years since he stood outside of it with Hermione; only beginning to feel the grief for the parents he never truly knew.

It was this that had plagued Harry from the moment he turned eleven and arrived at Hogwarts. How does he grieve for those he never truly knew?

As crass as it is to say, Harry didn’t know his parents outside his need for food, comfort, and love. The memories of his mother and father are so clouded; he can no longer tell whether they are his own or whether he’s simply simulated a story told to him by family friends.

He was fifteen months old when they were murdered. He was fifteen months old and barely aware of his own shadow.

Whilst he hadn’t visited the house much – it being too painful to see the sight of his parent’s murder – he had visited their graves in the years that have passed.

With you in tow, Harry leads you down the worn, familiar path. He slows his pace every now and then; warning you of an upcoming dip that may make you lose your balance.

All too soon, however, you stand in front of the grave of James and Lily Potter.

Quietly, he asks, “How do I grieve my parents when I never knew them?”

Your heart breaks for him; unable to stop yourself, you wrap an arm around his waist offering any form of comfort you can. Shakily, you answer, “I guess you can mourn what could have been or you grieve the fact that they were so young. Either way, Harry, they’re never going to leave you.”

“I know that,” He whispers; gaze fixed on the grave of his parents, “All I know of them is what I’ve been told. I feel as if my memories have been tainted, and I know that they all mean well, but sometimes-”

He cuts himself off with a huff; kneeling down and drawing out his wand. Silently, Harry conjures a bouquet of Orchids, Chrysanthemums and Lilies and then bows his head in silent prayer, continuing to grieve the parents he would never know.

You place your hand on his shoulder, “Sometimes you what, Harry?”

He sighs, “Sometimes I wish they would stop. I was so young when they died – any memories I have of them are practically gone but sometimes I have these flashes. I have no idea whether they’re real or not, but I feel as if they are. Yet, when friends tell me stories of what it was like to go to school with them or to fight alongside them, it’s like they’re pushing they’re version of James and Lily Potter onto me. Does that make sense?”

Squeezing his shoulder, you answer, “It makes perfect sense. The James and Lily you knew is different from what Sirius knew or what McGonagall knew.”

“I just worry that the more stories I hear, the quicker I lose what I know of them.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Harry.”

“You don’t?” He asks, shifting to his feet and facing you.

You shake your head, “I don’t. I think you’re going to remember your parents for the rest of your life; their morals and values make up yours, Harry. You might not think, but you are a lot more like them than you realise.”

Harry bows his head, feeling the familiar burn of tears at the back of his throat. He clamps his mouth shut, begging the feeling to go away. Quietly, almost ashamedly, Harry asks, “Do you think they would be proud of me?”

Then and there, your heart breaks, cleaving itself in two for the man standing before you. It’s the only dream of a child; to make their parents proud, but what about children who do not have parents – who grew up in a home that did not cherish them like it should have?

Silver lines your eyes; tears threatening to make an appearance as you reach for Harry’s hands, pulling him into a hug. Against his shoulder, you state with conviction, “They would be extremely proud of you, Harry. So proud of you it would shine out of them.”

Harry sniffles; ducking down somewhat to tuck his head against your neck, hiding his face in the junction between your neck and shoulder. From the outside, it looks as if two lovers are embracing, unable to keep their hands off the other for too long. However, you know that Harry is trying his best to maintain his composure, to try and gets to grips with the emotions that follow never knowing the ones who were supposed to raise you.

Minutes pass and neither of you move; neither of you willing to be the one to break this moment, but for the day to progress, you need to step away from the only man you have ever loved.

Releasing Harry, you send what you hope is a reassuring smile in his direction, “Come on, Harry,” You prompt, “Show me the rest of Godric’s Hollow?”

Framing it as a question, you offer Harry the choice. He is in control of this moment; h can choose whether he shows you the rest of the wizarding village or whether the two of you apparate back to his flat and spend the rest of the day mooching about.

Harry smiles: it’s watery, but fixed as he nods, stepping around you to lead you out of the graveyard.

Hands brush every now and then as the both of you wander back to the high street. A simple brush of hands, a simple twitch of fingers and your heart would start to race, practically shouting for Harry to take your hand and tangle your fingers together.

“I think I’m going to live here,” Harry murmurs; eyes scanning the high street.

“Are you sure?” You ask; worried not only for the fact that you may miss him while you remain in London, but also for any potential setback this may cause him.

Harry nods; his eyes now focused on a small café straight across the road from where you stand. He gestures towards it with an open hand, “Let me explain over some food.”

The bell above the door tinkles as you follow Harry inside. He chooses a table on the left hand side of the shop; sitting at the seat that faces the window and the door. It’s with stark realisation that you come to see that he’s chosen this exact spot so he can have eyes on each entrance and exit point.

You sigh as you sit across from him; old habits die hard, you guess.

Menus are placed in front of you by a teenaged witch looking as if she would rather be anywhere else but here. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in Harry’s form; the menu in her hand shaking as she places it down before him.

You bite your lip to repress the ever-growing smile on your face as you watch the waitress grow flustered under Harry’s smile and green eyes. She walks away in a daze after having taken your drink orders – coffee for Harry, Yorkshire Tea for you.

You shake your head fondly at the young witches departing figure; noting how she bumps into numerous tables before making it safely to the kitchen. Harry follows your gaze, wanting to know what’s taken your attention from him, “What is it?”

You shift your gaze back to the wizard, “You still don’t see the effect you have on people, do you?”

Harry frowns; his hand reaching up to touch his forehead self-consciously. He had grown his hair longer in order to cover the scar that mars the centre of his forehead; his black hair now fell around his head in curls he didn’t know he had until you had found an old picture of his father. The glasses and the curls along with the smile that could melt even the coldest of hearts; he was the spit image of his father.

“Not your scar, Harry, nor your name. I meant how you look; you have to know you’re handsome.”

Blush paints Harry’s cheeks as your words settle. The last thing he expected from today was to be told he was attractive; least of all, from you. He’s never had the chance before; to act upon his feelings for you. He realised just what he felt for you at the end of Sixth Year, and then the war happened, and he absolutely refused to let anything happen to you. He couldn’t tell you his feelings for you should it put a target on your back, and if anything happened to you, he would never forgive himself.

He laughs, shaking his head, “You’re a flatterer.”

You hold your hands up in playful surrender, “Only speaking the truth. You’ll see it one day.”

“One day,” He promises; eyes earnest as they gaze into yours.

It’s too much; just like that, it’s too much and you have to avert your stare before you end up blurting your inner most thoughts and scaring him away for good. Clearing your throat, you wait for the teenage waitress to place your drinks in front of you before you change the subject, “Why do you want to move here?”

Harry shrugs, picking up his coffee and taking a long drink, thinking over his words. “I think,” He begins, “I want to be close to them, but I also want to start carving out my life properly and this place is so peaceful. It’s so peaceful and it’s beautiful. I think it’s one of those places that if I don’t move here now, I’ll still move later on.”

You nod, “I get that. It is gorgeous here.”

Harry hums, “I’d still be in London every week.”

“You’d commute?” You ask, puzzled in terms of train schedules.

Harry barks out a laugh that turns into silent shaking of his shoulders as the teenage waitress returns, her pad in hand as she waits for your food order. Harry continues to repress his laughter throughout his order. As the waitress walks away, you fix Harry with an unimpressed stare. “Are you going to let me in on the joke?”

Harry smiles at you; as in, he really smiles at you. He beams as he whispers somewhat in awe, “I love you. You’re one of the smartest witches I know, and you still forget about the fact that we can apparate.”

You reel back in your chair, knees knocking into the table as the air leaves your body in a single breath. “What? What did you say first?”

Harry’s smile, if possible, grows as he shrugs his shoulders, “I love you.”

“Since when?” You demand, wondering how on earth he could discuss something as important as this as nonchalantly as one would discuss the weather.

“Sixth Year,” He confesses, blush beginning to paint his cheeks.

“That long?” You ask, voice hushed, “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Harry finally frowns, finger tracing the lip of his coffee cup, “There was a war, and then I wasn’t in the right frame of mind.”

Of course he wasn’t. Of course he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to confess his love for you, you admonish yourself. He had defeated the Dark lord and then had to cope with the survival guilt for years. It had only been in the last year that he finally let himself let go of the guilt surrounding the casualties of war.

“I love you too,” You admit, chewing on the inside of your cheek from nerves.

“You do?” Harry asks, about as breathless as you were when he confessed only moments ago.

“I do,” You confirm, smiling.

It isn’t much in the way of confessions, but the look on Harry’s face says it all. His green eyes remain bright and the smile wide on his face even as the waitress returns with your food. He looks as if no wrong could be done in that moment; the food could be the worst he has ever eaten but it wouldn’t matter.

You love him.

You love him as he loves you, and suddenly it all makes sense. His motivations through the war; not only wanting to rid the world of Voldemort but wanting to secure a safe future in which he can love you.

The food is eaten quickly; the both of you rushing to make it outside where you can talk more, and in private.

The bill is paid. The waitress wanders back to the till; stunned at the sight of Harry’s smile – and you couldn’t blame her.

Harry stands from his seat, reaching for his jacket and waiting patiently for you. Electricity thrums between you; holding promises of more to come, the headiness of it having you gripping the table tightly as you rise to your feet. One look at Harry’s face and you know he’s feeling it too.

Pausing outside the small café, you hold your hand out for Harry to take.

A soft breeze blows through Godric’s Hollow, disturbing your hair and the trees around you. Harry holds onto your hand tightly as the both of you begin to wander down the high street; the blossoms of the trees fluttering around you as they fall to the floor. Harry inhales deeply; the floral of the blossoms mixed with the sweetness of your perfume providing the perfect backdrop to his future.

Harry’s Flat, London, England, September.

Healing is a process. It is neither quick nor slow; it follows its own pace.

Through this process, Harry has realised that he is in fact getting better. He has his bad days; days where he seldom leaves his bedroom and refuses to stare at anything but the wall.

However, those days are becoming scarcer. Harry can sometimes go weeks before he has an episode that leaves him bedbound, and for that, he is proud of himself.

He doesn’t do it alone; he has you by his side through it all as you both prepare for the move to Godric’s Hollow. For both the good and the bad days.

********

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cherrywoes · 3 years

Text

crimson king. (diavolo x fem!reader.)

prologue.

“Stricken among a field of poppies,

With hair as red as molten flame,

The Crimson King brought low the thane,

And thus usurped his father’s throne,

For there would be a day the world would end,

And he would not see it until his own life’s end.”

— the records of Paimon, King of the West.

masterlist | i. cruor.

♕

“LADIES, GATHER ‘ROUND.” The Matriarch of House Gascoigne clapped her silk gloved hands sharply. The sound echoed throughout the dance room, cracking through the air with the force of a whip. “We have news from the capital!”

An excited murmur rose amongst the girls. It had been months since the royal family had last issued news on any events regarding the palace, or the King and Queen themselves; ever since their children, the prince and princess, had fallen ill with some unknown illness, not a mere scant of word was allowed outside the palace doors, much less from the mouths of maids and butlers. It had left much of House Gascoigne (their female occupants, at least) with little to do besides practice their waltz, needlework, and plan on wooing the finest bachelors in the kingdom. To have this little bit of gossip to break their melancholy was welcoming—even if it was bad news, for a time.

“News from the capital!” One girl gasped, reaching for the letter in delight. The Matriarch held it high above her head, swatting the girl’s grasping fingers with the paper and striking a deep cut in her hand. She hissed and pressed the well of blood to her mouth, scowling at the older woman.

“Yes, news.” The Matriarch’s stony gray gaze flickered over the throng of girls, counting each head—seven in all, her daughters—and found herself just one shy. She counted once more, just to be sure, and yet again, she was lacking a duckling with particular [color] hair and [color] eyes. “Where’s [Name]?”

“[Name]?” Another of the sisters rolled her eyes and stamped her heel. The hem of her dress caught in the stiletto and she was forced to listen to the slight tear of the seam as it punctured through the expensive fabric. “Please! It’s not like she cares for idle gossip; open the letter, mother!”

“Last I heard she went out hunting with father,” one crowed slyly, waving a lace fan in front of her face coquettishly. Her eyes, sharp and blue, darted over to the matriarch, whose face was unmoving. “Not much of a change, is it, sisters?”

“Girls!” The matriarch’s sharp tone cut through the speculating chatter like a knife. The sisters dropped their gazes to the floor momentarily, then back up to their mother, properly chastised. “I am ashamed of you—all of you. Speaking of your sister as if she is scum of the earth; why, your father would be disappointed in all of you. I do not believe any of you deserve to hear this news today.”

“No, mother! We promise not to speak of her as such again!” Similar sentiment rose, each girl pleading with their mother individually with different promises and different oaths. “Please, the letter!”

The matriarch looked upon her daughters with a narrowed gaze. They returned her stare with ones of silent pleading. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Very well then. Let’s see what it says, shall we?”

She cracked the wax seal upon it and with a cough to clear her throat, began to read.

“Marriage?” You parroted back at your father with gawkish eyes. Your mare came to a still beneath you, snuffling at a patch of vibrant green grass, a product of the new spring. You could feel the stays of your corset protest at the deep inhale of disbelief you took, squeezing hard shards of whale bone against your ribs. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“It’s time, [Name].” Your father sighed, much in the same way your mother would do when she was exasperated with something you or one of your sisters had said. He adjusted the reins of his horse’s bridle, nervous, and stared off in the distance somewhere away from you. “You know I would never force you into an arranged marriage, but…”

“But I need to start looking,” you mocked in a high, posh voice. You snorted through your nose and fixed him with a dark glower. “How many times have I heard that before? Ten? Twelve?”

“I know… I know your mother pressures you,” he amended,”but this time I’m afraid I’m the one asking you to begin searching. You’re twenty years old, [Name], far past the age of marriage already; I just want to see you well off and comfortable, if not happy.”

“And my happiness doesn’t matter as long as I’m well off and comfortable.”

This wasn’t how you expected your day out with your father to go. You had expected to hunt dove, at most, maybe a few squirrels or two; your quiver had been packed to handle it. Instead, you had gotten barely a foot or so into the forest, your mare eager to head into the lush grass, before he was bringing up the subject of your marriage—again. This wasn’t the first time you had heard it, but it was the first time it had come from him, and you were starting to wonder if they were just concerned or wanted you gone.

“Sometimes you can have one thing and forsake the other.” He shrugged helplessly. “I would rather you have money and comfort. But if you can somehow gain happiness as well, then…”

Which was highly unlikely, he was saying, as your marriage would likely be out of convenience, as the majority of your older sisters’ were. Your family was rich and everyone wanted part of the Gascoigne fortune—if not in gold, then in their daughters. Each of your sisters had a dowry large enough to buy off a country or two and every dirty old man wanted a piece of it, whether you were willing or not. Luckily, your parents were not so old fashioned as to arrange your marriage with a far older man, or push you in that direction, but they directly encouraged you to get married soon, and quickly. It didn’t help that a lot of the men repeated the foul saying “Gascoigne pussies are as good as gold”, meaning that if they were lucky enough to get any of your sisters or yourself with child, they might as well be set for life.

You didn’t want that. Not if you could help it.

With narrowed eyes, you looked at your father once more. He was fidgeting in his saddle, avoiding looking at you entirely, and by the look on his face, you had to wonder if he was just nervous or debating asking you to attend a debut ball knowing full well that you would be five years older than any other girl there—at least, that was your assumption. You had missed your first and subsequent balls after a particular rough bout of sickness that kept you bedridden; you had only recently been able to function normally again, albeit with some lightheadedness if you were too active in a short period of time.

“Right.” You reached up and held a hand over your head to deflect an oncoming branch. “Well, I guess I have no choice in the matter, do I?”

He sighed once more. “You know if I had any other choice, I would give you all the time in the world, [Name]. But the older you get the more you risk turning out an old crone with no marriage ties. I don’t want that for you—your mother doesn’t want that for you.”

You huffed and turned your head. Your mother’s sole goal was to marry off all of her daughters to eligible bachelors to get them off her hands; at least the ones who didn’t cater to her every whim, like yourself and a few other of your sisters. She was not a cruel mother by any means, but she was a thorn in your side at times, especially with her insistence on perfection. Your waltz and embroidery were as perfect as they were going to get, and you most certainly weren’t going to shrink your waist down to her tastes either. You would be surprised if she didn’t have something else to harp on you about when you returned home.

“I suppose.” A glance at the sky revealed it was already lunch time. You had already skipped tea with your mother and sisters; skipping another meal was a bad idea, even if you were out hunting. A very unladylike sport, she would probably hiss. “We should probably get back for lunch if we don’t want mother getting angry at us again.”

Your father almost seemed surprised, looking up at the sky himself. “It is, isn’t it? I heard we’re having pigeon pie today.”

“Pigeon pie?” You repeated slowly. “Father, that was yesterday. We’re having potato soup today.”

“Oh. Are we?”

You didn’t answer, watching him turn his horse around and begin the ride back home. You followed at a distance behind him, watching as he regarded the trail as if it was entirely new to him and familiar in some spots. You had been wondering if his illness had gotten worse and your proof was right in front of you. His father before him had been afflicted with the same memory loss, a product of a few lines of inbreeding centuries before, you had heard, but only in the paternal line. It had started with him mixing up names and stuttering them into the proper ones; then he slowly began to fall out of his routine, eyeing his paperwork in slight confusion; and just now, forgetting days and time.

Before you could call out to him and ask what day he thought it was, you heard an ungodly screech coming from the manor. It sounded faintly like one of your sisters, but it was loud enough that the birds in the trees startled and took to the sky. You urged your horse into a canter, your father following suite, and the closer you got, the more you could make out actual voices instead of mindless screeching.

“—this is ridiculous! How does she get to go to the palace and I’m stuck here?! Mother, it makes no sense! She’s twenty years old, she has no chance—”

“—oh, please, Violetta, like you could do any better at nineteen—”

“—says you two, I could sweep him off his feet without even a—”

“—I wouldn’t even need a dance, just five minutes alone in a—”

“—Adrielle, shut your mouth! I ought to send you to a convent!”

“There she is!” A finger went flying to point to you as your mare pushed through the treeline, hooves clopping on firm stone. “Mother, tell her to turn down the offer!”

All of your sisters, including even the youngest ones, just shy of fourteen, were gathered around the cut in the pathway in a tight cluster. All of them had some range of fury or irritation on their faces as they looked at you, clutching their lace fans or skirts tightly in their fists. You had only faintly heard your mother’s threat to send Adrielle to a convent and raised an eyebrow at the little crowd they made, pulling your horse to a halt with her reins. You wouldn’t dare risk dismounting in a dress, so you stared down at them all from your mount in confusion.

“[Name],” your mother approached your horse with some hesitation, eyeing the mare’s ears in any hint of her mood. “Here. This arrived for you in the mail today.”

You didn’t miss the sour tone in her voice. You accepted the opened letter from her with a raised eyebrow, the broken seal on the back stamped with the royal crest. Your sisters watched you like a hawk, searching for any hint that you weren’t happy with whatever the letter said.

While the envelope wasn’t addressed to you, the letter inside was: it was written in the elegant hand of the Queen herself, even down to a personalized address from her as well.

‘Dear [Name] of House Gascoigne,

It is my pleasure to notify you that you have been selected to participate in the Bride Hunt for Prince Diavolo of the Devildom. As you filled all the requirements to participate, you, along with three other girls in your bracket, will be escorted to the palace to participate in a selection of games picked by the prince himself. As this is a show of goodwill between our kingdom and that of the Devildom, we encourage you to be on your best behavior with your fellow competitors and play to win.

As a more personal note, I do hope you participate, [Name]. I believe you have a true chance at winning, my dear.

Queen Cordelia.’

In the corner of the letter was her personal seal, stamped in shining red wax. Unbroken, you could make out the sigil of the phoenix, a half of the official crest. You looked up at your mother’s expectant face and then at your father’s hopeful one, having likely guessed what it was.

You sighed.

“I suppose I’m going to the palace after all, then.”

Your sisters groaned in disappointment. Some of them even clicked their tongues at you and turned to head inside, your mother turning on her heel and chiding them on their childish behavior.

Your father caught your eye as you moved your horse to head to the stables. His smile was one of pride and hope, as if this had made all of his dreams come true.

You only hoped you wouldn’t disappoint him when it all was over.

taglist (open): @crashica (just let me know if you want to be added!)

#diavolo x reader #obey me diavolo #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #diavolo obey me #diavolo x y/n #obey me #obey me:swd #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me shall we date

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heybeybey · 3 years

Note

Royal AU : King Levi x domestic Petra bestie pls ??

Thanks for this @himebee-5! I needed a break from all the smut I've been drafting 😭

Word count: 1,155

Genre: Fluff, Romance

- - -

"I'm sorry... what?" Petra utters out, hand freezing on top of the young lamb whose fur she was brushing.

"I need a wife." He repeats to her, voice steady but his eyes reveal a tinge of fear at being rejected.

He'd long since discarded his crown, not even fond of the thing to begin with and Levi now stands before her in his casual black clothing. "My cousin ran off with a soldier. Tch. Brat didn't even choose a sane one."

Seeing that Petra is still reeling from the news he just dropped, Levi decides to continue.

"Now, because of Mikasa's smart decision, I don't have an heir to pass on the stupid crown. The court is pressuring me to get married as soon as possible."

"I-I heard that, my lord but-"

"Petra, drop the title," Levi said, stepping closer to her. "I thought we're way past that."

Petra can still recall the moment when Levi first visited two years ago to meet all the nobles and peasants that live throughout his domain. He was freshly crowned after the Ackerman line's matriarch and queen had died of a disease.

She recalls thinking that the new king was quite short and cold, a frown never leaving his face despite the purpose of these visits is to build relationships with his countrymen. He'd never spoken even once and mostly kept to himself while his taller, blonde general takes over the pleasantries on his behalf.

She personally found it endearing, how he'd awkwardly wave at the cheering masses, despite hearing the whispers from other townspeople how rude it was for a king to greet his people that way.

Petra was currently in the stables, taking care of the horses of their town's newest visitors. She'd often be back at her farm house and attending to the sheep, but with her father's death bleeding her savings dry, she needed some extra income other than what she could sell from her family's farm.

She'd been alone for a few hours now and the arrival of a new person made her jump a little in surprise. She was even more at a loss when she sees that it's just not anyone. It was the new king.

"My lord," she drops in a sorry attempt of a curtsy. She'd only ever seen the higher-class ladies do this. As a farm girl, she'd never seen any purpose in practicing such protocols.

Until today.

"What's your name?" He had said, eyeing her in amusement as her hand clenches her skirt. "You can stand up now."

"Petra Ral, my lord," Petra answered.

He silently nods in acknowledgement. "Care to show me around, Petra? Those nobles had been dragging me around but I doubt they even know shit about this place."

Petra jumps slightly at the curse word, not expecting that such a word would even come from a man bred in royalty. She finally offers him a small smile before gesturing him to follow her outside the stables with her own personal horse in tow.

"Well, you can't consider yourself an official visitor of our town unless you've seen the sunflower farm," she said. "My father used to offer tours. I can try to show you, but I'm not really as charismatic and charming as he was." She giggles at the thought of a stoic king amidst a field of bright flowers.

"I doubt that." He said. Petra's giggles stopped, and she found her face heating up fast as he tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"My lor- I mean, Levi..." Petra whispers, head looking down as her heart skips a beat, both from the intense gaze he's currently giving her and the memory of how that first night ended with them in between bedsheets at her almost dilapidated farm house. "I don't think I'm qualified for such a title."

"Petra, we've been seeing each other for almost two years now." He said, voice taking on a softer tone when he sees the insecurity starting to settle on her face. "You're all I think about every time I go to war. I ride to this farm every week, and you don't know how many times I wished I could stay."

He finally takes her hand in his, lifting it up to place a soft kiss on her knuckles before continuing, "I'm tired of you remaining a secret when I know the future I want is with you."

But this special thing they have in private doesn't mean it would work in public.

What does she know of being royalty? Of dazzling, expensive dresses when all she had ever worn her whole life are peasant skirts and headdresses that she had to sew and re-stitch herself every few years.

"I doubt your people will approve my lord," She replies in a shaky voice, emphasising his title so that he would be reminded that what they have isn't normal. "That you're planning to marry a farm girl. I'm sure there are other candidates out there."

"There are." Petra's chest clenches at his answer, remembering the noblewomen in her small town who always tried to drape themselves on him. "But I don't want any of them. You're the only one, Petra."

In the two years that she'd been secretly with Levi, her heart always felt full at the knowledge that he'd never given in to their seduction and whims. Two years in and she can't believe that she's still smitten every time she finds him waiting outside her door in the wee hours of a Saturday morning.

Sighing, Petra makes a final attempt to convince him otherwise and make him see reason. But she can feel her own resolve wavering.

"I've never even been to the capital."

"I'll show you around." He replies, lighting up a bit when he hears from her voice that she's trying to convince herself as much as she's trying to convince him.

"People will talk. They'll say I seduced you for your money and power and-"

"Who gives a shit." He starts to pepper kisses against her cheek, hands trailing gentle patterns against her hips.

Her breath hitches when his lips reaches her neck. "I don't know a single thing about being royalty. I'll just embarrass you."

"I don't care." With that, he lifts her up in his arms while she finds her own hands settling on his cheek and undercut. Levi gives her a hard and almost bruising kiss before he starts to carry her towards the cozy haven that is her farm house.

"I want a lot of children." Her own yes to his proposal.

"We'll raise an army." Levi replies against her lips, kicking the door to her bedroom open.

#rivetra #levi x petra #rivetra au #rivetra fanfiction #rivetra fanfic #levi ackerman #petra ral #rivapet #rivapeto

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hauntedbythefanficsofmypast · 3 years

Text

The Different Group Chats part 1

{Part 1} [Part 2]

Diamonds:

BlueDiamond- Marinette

BrownDiamond- Mireille

GreenDiamond- Marc

Cheng Main Family:

MamaOrso- Sabine

TopChef- Wang

Matriarch- Nuba (Their Grandmother)

Heiress- Lian (Marc’s mother)

Tiāncái- Mei (Mireille’s mother)

Adrinette/Girls GC:

PinkBean- Rose

PurpleBean- Juleka

BossFox-Alya

TrueBeauty-Lila

WhyAmIHere- Alix

LoveBug- Mylene

A group chat AU I thought of this will involve only the Miraculous Ladybug show, with very minor mentions of other shows. Some backstory information I feel are important. Marinette, Marc, and Mireille are cousins in this through their mothers; Sabine, Lian, and Mei. Marinette is Chinese, Italian, and French, Marc is Chinese and French, and Mireille is Chinese, Japanese, and French. This is not Adrinette, I decided to give Lukanette some love!

Diamonds

10:46 am

BlueDiamond: Do you think I could get away with it?

GreenDiamond:????

GreenDiamond: Mar? Get away with what?

BrownDiamond: Depends. Are you doing it by yourself, with us, or are you going to call Bāchan’s right hand?

GreenDiamond: Mir? Wait why would Mar call Fengge?

11:07 am

GreenDiamond: Hey! You two respond already!

BrownDiamond: Calm cousin, calm. Mar is contemplating taking care of Lila Rossi, you know the girl that threatened her in the bathroom.

GreenDiamond: Oh.

GreenDiamond: WAIT!!!1!

GreenDiamond: No fair! She can’t call Fengge I called dibs on ruining Rossi!

BrownDiamond: Mar gets the final decision, after all she is the one being targeted.

BlueDiamond: I am not calling Fengge, I don’t want her dead, I just want to ruin her future. Besides Fengge would call Nonna, and I’d rather not take the chance of us being pulled out of school.

BrownDiamond: Very true, but I doubt Bāchan would pull us out. Lila is only a minor threat and she knows we can definitely handle her. If the snake goes too far however, she will step in.

GreenDiamond: Tru…

BrownDiamond: Stop butchering words or else.

GreenDiamond: Common little cuz be traught.

*BrownDiamond took a Screenshot of chat*

BrownDiamond: I am showing my Kachann.

BlueDiamond: She did warn you.

GreenDiamond: D’: NooOo dont message auntie!!!1!!

BrownDiamond: Already sent.

GreenDiamond: You hate me.

Cheng Main Family

11:38 am

Tiàncái: First, return to your lessons. Second, Marc the penthouse at 4 exact. After reading those texts I’ve decided you need a two hour lesson.

BrownDiamond: Yes Kachann.

BlueDiamond: Sorry Auntie.

GreenDiamond:Understood Auntie.

TopChef: How bad was it?

Tiàncái: Worse than you fake butchering other languages to mess with others.

MamaOrso- My Marinette was not a part of it correct?

Tiàncái- No just our nephew sister.

Heiress- Why am I not surprised, at least he is only doing it with his cousins.

Matriarch- My Diamonds know that they are not allowed to butcher languages like their Great Uncle in front of others. I would not worry too much, my darlings. Now all of you return to work. I have a meeting to attend.

MamaOrso- Yes Māmā

Tiàncái- Understood, have a good meeting.

Heiress- I will see you later Māmā.

TopChef-Talk to you all later my girls.

Diamonds

1:13 pm

BlueDiamond: Juleka and Rose are sitting with me in the back now.

BrownDiamond: Oh?

BlueDiamond: Yes they came up and apologized to me during lunch. They both asked for a chance to earn my trust again.

GreenDiamond: And your decision Mar?

BlueDiamond: I am giving them a second chance, both apologized and explained why they didn’t choose sides. No information about Lila too, she is making big promises. For instance she told Kitty Section she’d introduce them to Jagged Stone.

BrownDiamond:...Isn’t Juleka Jagged’s daughter?

BlueDiamond: Yes.

BrownDiamond: Oh no.

BlueDiamond: What?

GreenDiamond: This is Miss Mendeleiev both of you return to your lessons and put your phones away.

1:28 pm

BrownDiamond: Nice job Marc, next time control your laughter.

BlueDiamond: Really?

2:49 pm

BlueDiamond: Mir go out for ice cream? We can go find André.

BrownDiamond: Well I don’t have to be in the studio today and was only planning to hang out with friends. Can we invite some others?

BlueDiamond: Oh definitely! I’ll ask Rose, Juleka, and Luka!

BrownDiamond: I am just going to invite Aurore and Jean.

BlueDiamond: Hoping to get complimentary cones cousin dearest?

BrownDiamond: Shut up I just like his face.

BlueDiamond: Don’t you lie to me. You have attended every single magical show he has done, and even promoted him once on MAC’s Twitter.

BrownDiamond: Shut up, your one to talk Mar. Who do you have a crush on, Model boy or Guitar boy?

3:10 pm

BrownDiamond: Mar?

BrownDiamond: Did I upset you?

BrownDiamond: Marinette?

BlueDiamond: Sorry

BlueDiamond: No you did not upset me. Lila pointed out I was texting and Bustier started lecturing me on being a good role model.

BrownDiamond: Sorry, my locker in five?

BlueDiamond: Mhm, see you soon.

GreenDiamond: I got my phone back!

GreenDiamond: Unfair! You guys can’t get ice cream while I’m stuck in lessons!

BlueDiamond: [Image.png]

GreenDiamond: Why’d you send me a picture of you and Mir looking around???

BrownDiamond: Trying to find the fucks we give…

GreenDiamond: ༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽

BlueDiamond: Ew. Stop.

GreenDiamond:༼ ༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ༽

BlueDiamond: Ugh.

Private Messaging

Nathaniel and Marc

3:11 pm

LifePartner: Marc can we talk today? It’s about Marinette.

Rainbow: …

Rainbow: I have a two hour lesson starting at four. Meet me on the Pont Des Arts at 6:30.

LifePartner: I’ll be there Rainbow, see you later.

Diamonds

4:20 pm

BrownDiamond: Not.A.Word.

BlueDiamond: Burnt caramel for his eyes, and cotton candy for his unique tricks~ Blackberry for her beautiful hair, and black walnut for her unusual connections.

BrownDiamond: One, perhaps we should be concerned with what André seems to know about us.

BrownDiamond: Two, Blue moon for his hair and eyes, and super madness for his crazy life, Blackberry for her hair and cherry with chips for her secret.

BlueDiamond: Mmm André is a meta I wouldn’t worry his love is ice cream and bringing soulmates together.

BlueDiamond: Luka has confessed to me though, I told him I wasn’t ready.

BrownDiamond: Still stuck on Adrien?

BlueDiamond: No

BlueDiamond: I thought he’d take my side when he said that we were in it together. The moment he didn’t speak up when I was expelled pretty much made that crush, crash.

BlueDiamond: He is sweet but he has been too sheltered, he is trying to treat Lila like she is a tabloid.

BrownDiamond: You are not wrong. So...Luka?

BlueDiamond: Yea, I’m thinking Luka.

Private Messaging

Jagged and Luka

4:24 pm

Luka: Dad how did you get Penny to fall in love with you?

Jagged: I ask myself that every single day kiddo. Every single day.

Luka: I’m screwed.

Jagged: Marinette?

Luka: Marinette.

Jagged: Penny says to just be yourself! My rockstar Mari is a smart girl and her crush on the Agreste boy has slowly disappeared...yes it would be very rock an roll to have her as a daughter-in-law. That’s it Luka! You have to win Marinette’s heart over!

Luka: You’re not helping Dad.

Private Messaging

Penny and Luka

4:47 pm

Penny: Stop asking him Luka.

Penny: Just be yourself, Marinette would never want you to change yourself. Give her a little more time and just be there for her.

Luka: Thanks Penny, how did Dad win you over anyway?

Penny: ...I have a thing for loud sometimes idiotic men.

Luka: Awe, I am never telling him that.

Penny: I’m joking, I’m joking one night he rolled over and was just barely awake. He didn’t know I was awake, he whispered that I was the love of his life and that he wished his mom had a chance to meet me.

Luka: Awe. I’m telling Marinette that.

Penny: Oh, definitely would get you brownie points, she loves sweet love stories.

Adrinette

6:39 pm

Group name changed from Adrinette to Girls GC

Lila Rossi added by BossFox

BossFox changed Lila Rossi to TrueBeauty

BossFox: Hey girls I decided to make this the drama free girls group chat.

PurpleBean: Drama free???

PinkBean: Why not create a new group chat than Alya? Also if this is the girls group chat where is Marinette?

BunnxXx changed name to WhyAmIHere

BossFox: Like I said drama free girls

TrueBeauty: Awe Alya! You added me to a group chat where I don’t have to worry about upsetting Marinette!

TrueBeauty: That’s so sweet!!

WhyAmIHere: Alya this is our get Mari with Sunshine boy gc.

TrueBeauty: Alya you haven’t told them yet?

BossFox: Don’t worry Lila I just wanted you to be here when I did!

BossFox: Girls we are canceling Adrinette.

LoveBug: What? Why?

BossFox: I was telling Lila about all our attempts and how ‘in love’ with Adrien Marinette is. Well Lila pointed out that everything she is doing are red flags for a stalker!

LoveBug: What?! But Marinette would never!

PinkBean: Are you serious?

WhyAmIHere: Oh boy.

TureBeauty: No listen please, I’m not lying!

TrueBeauty: Alya told me everything she has done! She has his entire schedule, pictures of him all over her wall, one he doesn’t even know exist! She has stolen his phone before and is constantly trying to get alone time with him! Not to mention she has planned out their life with two kids and a hamster!

TureBeauty: She is stalking Adrien and convinced you guys to help her!

LoveBug: Oh my gosh

LoveBug: I can’t believe

LoveBuv: All this time Marinette has been

WhyAmIHere: Alright ya-no I’m so done.

WhyAmIHere: First of Marinette HAD a crush on Adrien. One that you blew out of proportion Alya.

BossFox: What?!

BossFox: I did not!

WhyAmIHere: You were constantly trying to force her into telling Adrien when she clearly wasn’t ready, and always dragging us into helping set up ‘dates’

WhyAmIHere: Two Marinette is a fashion designer. Have you seriously never noticed all the pictures are right above when she works on designs? They are a part of her fashion board Alya.

WhyAmIHere: Also the part with the phone, I’m hello? Marinette has always been like that, she does it when she’s half asleep most of the time. But in the end she always returns the person's phone before the end of the day!

WhyAmIHere: Also we have all seen those photos, if Marinette was seriously stalking him don’t you think the pictures would be inappropriate? They are either from magazines or from class outings.

LoveBug: Alix you have to admit it is a little weird that Marinette has gone this far

LoveBug: Lila is a model too and she knows so many famous people. I have no doubt she knows more about stalking than we do.

WhyAmIHere: srs.

TrueBeauty: Alix you have to listen to me! Marinette is sick and she needs help or else she’ll be a danger to Adrien and us!

WhyAmIHere: No. I’m done. Marinette is just a teenager with a CRUSH and you are just blowing it out of proportion.

Alix Kubdel has left Girls GC.

TrueBeauty: Rose Juleka you believe us right?

TrueBeauty: Please Mari really needs help!

PinkBean: No we don’t…

BossFox: WHAT!?

PurpleBean: We don’t believe you. Besides, Marinette barely has a crush on Adrien anymore. I’d ask if you’ve seen her room but she stopped inviting you up Alya.

PinkBean: And she doesn’t like Lila so Lila has never even seen her room.

BossFox: It isn’t like you guys would actually know anything! Just after school today Marinette threatened Lila to stay away from Adrien! And she got physical!

LoveBug: oh gosh! Lila are you okay?

TrueBeauty: Alya! I didn’t want anyone to know!

BossFox: But they need to know Lila especially since they keep siding with her!

PinkBean: Really?

PinkBean: When after school?

TrueBeauty: She attacked me around 4 today!

PurpleBean: oh rlly?

PinkBean: That doesn’t make sense though because Marinette was with us today at four. We left the school together.

TrueBeauty: This is what I was afraid of! Marinette has twisted you two into lying for her! See Alya this is why I didn’t want anyone to know!

BossFox: Don’t worry I’ll handle this girl.

Juleka Couffaine was removed by BossFox.

PinkBean: Alya?! Really?!

Rose Lavillant was removed by BossFox.

BossFox: Alright girls we have to help keep Adrien safe from his Stalker!

LoveBug: I’ll tell Ivan, I’m sure him and the other boys will be more than happy to help!

TrueBeauty: oh I don’t know what I would do without you girls!

Diamonds

8:15 pm

BlueDiamond: Alix just showed up at my house with Calendula Pink Surprise.

GreenDiamond: Oh? Tikki must be in love.

BlueDiamond: She is, hasn't left the plant since I placed it in my room. I’d send a picture but she obviously wouldn’t show up.

BrownDiamond: Pray tell cousin dearest why did she gift you with flowers?

GreenDiamond: Mir is having another Pride and Prejudice movie marathon…

BrownDiamond: It is a gift to the world!

BlueDiamond: Yes yes one of the best books out there we know.

BlueDiamond: She apologized for everything, also, she may know I’m Ladybug.

BrownDiamond: Well duh, Calendula? Ladybugs love those flowers.

BlueDiamond: She told me that she honestly just thought it was a little rivalry between Lila and me. That is until Alya made a group chat purposely excluding me.

GreenDiamond: Really?

BlueDiamond: Mhm, she said it would be their ‘drama free’ group chat. Not the beat part though.

BrownDiamond: Go on, I've got my movie paused.

BlueDiamond: Apparently I am stalking Adrien and they need to protect him from me.

GreenDiamond:...

BrownDiamond:...

BrownDiamond: My god Marc I can hear you from my room, breathe!

BlueDiamond: I thought the penthouse walls were soundproof?

BrownDiamond: They are.

GreenDiamond: cant breathe

BlueDiamond: I’ve done it.

BlueDiamond: I’ve killed our cousin.

BrownDiamond: Sometimes I wished you’d live here with us Mar.

BlueDiamond: I am thinking about it.

BlueDiamond: Mama and Papa have told me before I can, and it’ll be much easier to avoid Alya.

BrownDiamond: [Image.png]

BlueDiamond: oh my gods breathe

BlueDiamond: is that..

BlueDiamond: Is that Nathaniel’s hoodie?

BrownDiamond: he has rolled over and hid his face in his pillow.

BrownDiamond: Should I tickle the information out of him?

BlueDiamond: hmm permission granted

BrownDiamond: [Video]

BlueDiamond: Awe Marc!!

BrownDiamond: I am outraged he has been dating you for so long and never asked our permission!

BlueDiamond: Mireille give Nathaniel a break, besides not many people know that we are cousins

GreenDiamond: Actually he didn’t know until tonight that we are. Also Mar, expect something from him soon, he knew the truth but didn’t know how to apologize to you.

BrownDiamond: So he is the reason you left the penthouse so quick after your lessons!

GreenDiamond: Shut up Mir!

BlueDiamond: Get some sleep you two, I’ll talk over moving to the penthouse with Mama tomorrow.

BrownDiamond: Goodnight Mar

GreenDiamond: Wait really?!

GreenDiamond: Mar!!

GreenDiamond: You torture me so!

BrownDiamond: Go to sleep Marc.

GreenDiamond: Fine I’ll just ambush her tomorrow.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fandom #miraculous marinette #marinette dupain cheng #mireille caquet #marc anciel #marc and nathaniel #luka couffaine #lukanette #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant #lila salt #lila bashing #lila rossi #miraculousgroupchat

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xmalereader · 3 years

Text

The Mandalorian X Dark Fey! Male Reader

—

|| Masterlist ||

After S2 EP 5, I couldn’t help but come up with an idea! After finding out the child’s name and having Ashokas appearance, I couldn’t help myself but write some more Dark fey reader!! Also the inspiration comes from @fanficsforheartandsoul Please read their writing it is amazing and follow them!!

Summary: Din and reader have found the child a teacher, Ashoka, and learn a few new things about the Jedi order. But, Ashoka finds out a bit more about the readers kind and tells him her stories of when she once met a planet full of dark fey, creatures that the reader thought have gone extinct making him think that he is the last of his kind.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, the child being all cute, backstory, Ashoka learning, just more angst.

—

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Said the Fey who walked next to the Mandalorian. The two were walking through the dead forest, jumping over fallen logs and going under trees in order to continue following the path that lead them to the Jedi. Back in town they have met with the Matriarch, a women that was in charge of the town and had offered them a spear of beskar in exchange to take down the Jedi. At first, y/n thought that din was going to refuse the offer, knowing that they needed the Jedi alive due to the child needing a proper teacher. But of course, Din being a Mandalorian, couldn’t refuse the offer. Which lead them to tracking down the jedi thorugh the dead forest.

“I already told you—“ Din turns to face the Fey. “I’m not going to kill her, I’m going to get her attention and make sure that she helps us with the kid. I just need to find her, that’s all.” He repeats. He’s already explained Y/n his plan, telling him that he woulnd’t do anything to hurt the Jedi and to only ask for their help and hand the kid over to them.

Y/n sighs deeply as he gives the child a glimpse, who sat inside the bag that Din had found for the kid. “I know but I can’t help but get a bad feeling about this.” He mumbles out as Din stops in his tracks and removes the kid from the bag, setting him down with a sigh. “Will be fine.” Din tells him and nods towards the kid. “Stay with him, I’m going to check out the area and see if I can find anything.” Y/n nods at the Mandalorian and adjusts his cape, using it to hide his wings from prying eyes. He’s never liked it when others took notice of his wings, they were precious to him and being a Dark fey was risky, he was the last of his kind and he couldn’t allow anyone to know who he was.

The fey can’t help but pout as he stands next to the child and reaches out to stroke one of its long ears. Keeping him distracted with a small smile. Before he could even say anything he hears the sound of sabers and beskar clashing against eachother.

The dark feys eyes widen as he sees the Jedi and Din fighting with each other, stepping in front of the child to protect him he bares his fangs at the Jedi until Din calls out her name. Causing the two to stop fighting with each other. Din Is quick to tell her that they were sent by bo-Katan and how they have searching for her.

The Jedi, known as Ahsoka, gives the couple a look before she eyes the dark fey that stood over the child. She’s quick to drop her guard and puts away her lightsabers. “I hope it’s about him.” She says as din turns around to see y/n glaring at the Jedi, he gives him a small nod as of saying that everything was okay.

Y/n’s wings slowly drop behind him as he too drops his guard and exposes the child to the Jedi. The two approach him as ahsoka smiles a little, “Hello.” She coos out to the child who returns her greeting with a squeak.

—

Y/n watches Din pace back and forth as the Mandalorian eyes the Jedi and the child from a distance. He was becoming nervous and anxious, not knowing what to expect from Ahsoka. The fey was standing by a tree, leaning back against it as he sighs. “Din, stop it.”

“I can’t help it.” Din snaps back at his partner of four years. The two have known each other for awhile now and it wasn’t strange for y/n to see Din acting this way, he knows that he’s grown attached to the kid and how much he loves him. But things change and they were tasked to bring him to a Jedi.

Y/n slowly gets irritated by Dins pacing, he knows that he’s acting like a worried father but he can’t help but get a little annoyed. “Din.” He approaches the Mandalorian and reaches out to touch his hand, finally getting Dins attention as he stops pacing.

“It’s going to be okay, whatever Ahsoka is doing she’ll tell us.” He whispers to Din, hearing the other sigh deeply as he looks away. Y/n grows upset as he gently places a hand on one side of the helmet and pulls him back to face him. Without saying a word he leans forward to press their foreheads together. A small tradition that both mandalorians and Dark fey have in common. “It’s okay.” He croaks out this time as Din relaxes under his touch and nods.

As the two pull away, they don’t notice Ahsoka approaching them with the child in her arms. She gives the two a small smile as she sets the lamp down between them and the child in a rock. She sits next to him and sighs.

Din is the first to break the silence. “Can you—Can you understand him?” He asks.

Ahsoka sits up straight and nods. “In a way,” she turns to face the child. “Grogu and I can communicate through the force, giving us the ability to speak with eachother.”

“Grogu?” Both Din and y/n say.

The sudden name call causes the child to perk up, looking over at his parents as he coos out.

Y/n noticed the kids reaction and smirks. “Grogu.” He repeats and again the child’s ears perk up and his eyes widen with joy.

Ahsoka watches the Dark fey kneel down at the child’s level and stroke his long ears as Din sits across from her. She takes this time to explain to him about Grogu; where he’s from and how the Jedi order had fallen during the clone wars. She also tells him about the previous master that was the same species as Grogu that she once knew. Once she’s done explaining the notices the child falling asleep which makes her smile a little. “I’ll train him in the morning, for now we rest.”

Din can only nod as he stands up and takes the kid with him, wrapping him up in his cloak as he heads towards a spot that was comfortable for them to sleep. As y/n rises from the ground he hears Ahsoka ask. “You’re a Dark fey.”

Y/n turns around to see her approach him. “I once met a fey, back when I was still in training.” She says. The feys eyes can only widen in relazation. “You’ve met a fey before?” He asks.

Ahsoka nods her head. “Of course, back when I still training with my masters we once crashed into their home planet. We’ve never heard about their species or where they came from, they were unknown to the rest of the worlds.” She explains. “The ones I met were Aster; the chief of his people and Neela the chiefs wife. She too was a force sensitive but their people didn’t know much about the force so they simply called her, ‘the special one’.”

Y/n is shocked by her words. Have their been Fey around this whole time? Was he not the only one? Could it be possible for him to visit this planet? He had so many questions to ask.

“What—what were they like?” He stutters out, licking his lips as he grips his cloak.

Ahsoka smiles as she nods towards the stump, offering him to sit as she continues to talk about this planet that she once knew.

“The Dark fey were very traditional people and kind. They welcomed us very quickly and taught us their traditions.” She continues on as y/n sits down to listen. “Aster, the chief, had a son who became very close to one of my masters.” She chuckles at the fond memory of her Master Obi-wan.

“Dark fey have this traditions when it comes to finding loved ones,” she says. “Theirs was a dance a very special dance—“ she glanced over at the Mandalorian who was sleeping against a tree with Grogu tucked underneath his arm. “By any chance are you and the Mandalorian together?”

Y/n’s face flushes red as he clears his throat, reaching up to run the back of his neck nervously. “We’ve been bonded together for awhile now.” He shyly looks away from her piercing blue eyes. “Why do you ask?”

Ahsoka hums. “While I was speaking to the child, he told me about you both and how much of a strong connection you have with the Mandalorian.” She adjusts her own cape. “Grogu really cares about you both, he sees you as his family. As parents.” Her eyes sadden at the realization.

Y/n is quick to notice the change of mood, sitting up straight he feels his wings twitch again. “Is that a good thing?” He suddenly grows anxious.

“In your way, yes. But in the Jedi way, it is forbidden.” She sighs out. “In order to become a Jedi you have to avoid attachments. My old Master...he could’ve easily fallen away from the order the day the Chiefs son proposed to him. My master was oblivious during that time and had no idea that the fey was proposing, I could sense his happiness of just being around your people and around him too but—“ she frowns. “He was a selfish fool who only thought about putting his order first before him.” This was the first time that she actually spoke ill about her master. She knew how much Obi-Wan cared and loved the man, she remembers the presents Obi-wan would receive from the fey and how happy he was to just have a small stone given to him. She knew he was happy and she wanted him to stay on that planet with him. But, she can only watch as her master broke the feys heart and telling him that he couldn’t have these attachments. For the first time she felt upset towards her master, upset that he wouldn’t put his own happiness first.

“But, Grogu needs your help.” Y/n whispers out.

“I know he does, but I can’t train him. I can’t lead him down a dark path.” Ahsoka’ voice grows into a small whisper. She knows how much the child means to them and separating him from his family can only upset Grogu and the fear that he holds can easily take him down a dark path, something she can’t bare to see again.

Y/n bites his lip, looking over his shoulder to see his partner and Grogu resting with each other. “Their is another way.” He turns his attention back to Ahsoka. “I can try and train him in the morning but if the child refuses to listen then your second option will be to take him to a Jedi temple. There he will decide his path.”

Y/n heaves out a deep sigh and nods. “Okay.” He says softly as Ahsoka places her hand on his shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “Get some rest.” She adds and stands from her spot.

Before she could find her own place to sleep she is stopped by y/n. “The Dark fey, you said their was a planet full of them—do you know where?” He asks desperate to know.

Ahsoka gives him a confused look. “I thought you were from there.”

Y/n shakes his head. “I don’t remember my parents or their names.” He was still a child when he found out that he was the only fey. “I was sold into slavery, passed down by many different masters. I was treated like any other; punished, neglected, sometimes they would tear my feathers away.”

Ahsoka gasps. “A feys wings are considered precious to them and no one is to touch them unless given permission too.” She is shocked to know about this.

“A feys wings are senstive as a child that was my punishment. I didn’t learn how to fly until I got older, but before anything else the mandalorians saved me—“ he looks towards Din and smiles. “Din and I were kids. He was my first friend, my first everything.” He blushes. “We grew up together, I didn’t take the creed due to me being a fey. I wanted to know more about my kind and see if I could find anyone that knew about us but, I never succeed.” He remembers spending his years doing research about the fey, only finding few books and holos about his kind. He remembers annoying the Armorer to let him go search around the area and see if could find just one hint of information about his own people. But in the end he found nothing and accept his fate of being the last one.

But now, now he’s found someone that has met, not just one, but a whole planet full of them and he’s desperate to know where this planet is located.

“I want to see more fey, I want to see my people.” He pleads out. “Please, anything you have can help me.” He looks into her blue eyes, giving her a pleading look.

Ahsoka Can sense his emotions; anger, sadness, joy, relief. She gives off a sad sigh, reaching under her cloak she pulls out a holo. Showing it to y/n. “Before we left I made sure to gather as much information as I could about the Dark fey. Their elders trusted me with this information and allowed me to add their coordinates if we were to ever visit again.” Her fingers graze over the holo before giving it a soft squeeze and handing it over to y/n.

“Take it and go find yourself a place that you can call home.”

Y/ns heart beats loudly as he eyes the holo in Ahsokas hand. Nervously he takes it into his own and bites his lip, holding back tears of joy. “Thank you.”

Ahsoka nods. “You’re welcome.” Smiling at the fey she nudges him towards the Mandalorian. “Best for you to rest, tomorrow we train Grogu.” Y/n sniff and clears his throat. “Right.” He agrees with her and puts away the holo into his own pocket. Turning around he heads towards Din and Grogu, quietly removing his own cape as he drapes it over the two. He sits down next to him and leans his head against Dins shoulder, his wings stretching out and wrapping themselves around his small family and smiles.

#male reader #pedro pascal #din djarin #din djarin x male reader #pedro pascal x male reader #the mandalorain #star wars x male reader #star wars #the mandalorian inccorect quotes #the mandalorian spoilers

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averyhappychainsawhalloween · 3 years

Text

Reverence | Part 4

Thomas Hewitt X You

It took a week before you were alone with Thomas again. For someone so strong and imposing he sure did get bullied around a lot. Hoyt was constantly sending him to the basement and you back to the kitchen with Luda Mae. At first a kind smile came easily to your lips but as the days dragged on it was becoming harder and harder to hide your annoyance with the sheriff. You wanted to be polite and nice but you only had so much time left.

It was a Saturday morning and you were sitting at the kitchen table cutting out biscuits with Luda Mae. The matriarch of the family seemed to enjoy your company and obviously wanted good things for Tommy. You usually kept conversation light with her but as the clock on the wall ticked away another hour in the house you decided it was now or never.

“Do you think Tommy likes me?” you asked, your voice breaking there serene quiet of the morning. Luda Mae looked over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove.

“Of course he does, he’s friendly to you ain’t he?” she said.

“I just don’t get to see him. Hoyt is always sending him away and I thought maybe he didn’t like me.” You dragged your finger through the flour on the table drawing a circle in the mess.

“Oh honey,” Luda Mae swept across the table and took a seat beside you. “We’re all protective of Thomas, Hoyt just doesn’t want his feelings to get hurt.”

“But I’d never hurt his feelings. I could be his protector,” you said, inching to the edge of your seat. Luda Mae paused, considering your words. Her eyes glanced to the hallway and then back to you.

“Hoyt won’t be awake for at least another hour,” she said quietly. “Go ahead and head downstairs, he doesn’t need to know.”

The woman patted your hand but you grabbed her and pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Thank you, Luda Mae!” Before the woman could respond you were up and gone, flour dusted fingers already opening the basement door.

You weren’t thinking. Your heart was loud in your ears and your smile hanging freely from your lips as you took the stairs two at a time down into the basement. It was still early morning and it was dim below the house. None of the lights were on and in the dark you couldn’t make out any figures moving around the space.

Carefully, you started into the basement. After a week you had felt comfortable moving around the house. You had your own room and while the kitchen may be Luda Mae’s domain you had started to feel a small bit of ownership over it. You sat on the stairs, napped on the porch, and walked around in the grass outside. However, the basement was a different beast. You’d only been down twice- when you woke up and when you brought Tommy his dinner a week ago. Since then you hadn’t so much has touched the door, Hoyt had ensured that.

Every step you took further into the basement felt like you breaking a rule. As you got deeper into the dark you heard a low rumble. Someone snoring.

Your eyes washed over the basement until you spotted him. A bed pressed into the far corner where a large figure was curled up, snoring in the late morning light filtering in through the uneven boards.

You grinned and quickly tip toed over to the corner. You wanted to move quickly- after all Luda Mae had given you an hour maybe a little more and you weren’t going to waste it- but tried to quietly. You were close to Thomas’ bed when you shin knocked into a metal handle and a knife was knocked from a low shelf and skid across the concrete floor with a loud scratch.

Thomas jerked up, the strips of light hitting his face. His hair was tangled from being pressed into a pillow and his face was bare, his leather face put away for the night. You could see blue eyes wide with surprise and a slip of twisted skin before he turned away, placing a large hand over his face.

“Tommy it’s me,” you said, keeping your voice low. You closed the gap, moving to the side of his bed and kneeling on the floor. Without thinking of the reaction you placed a hand on his arm. He jerked away from your touch, hiding his face by twisting away.

You looked around you and found the leather mask sitting on a small cabinet beside the bed. You picked it up, feeling the grooves and cracks in the leather with your fingers.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” you said softly, offering the mask out to him. He peeked through two large fingers before taking it from you. He sat up, his back to you as he wiggled the straps on over his head. You watched the muscles in his back move under a thin layer of shirt. He really was massive.

Once his mask was on he turned around looking down at you.

“Luda Mae said I could visit you this morning,” you said with a smile. “Just us.”

Tommy’s eyes flickered to the stairs and then back to your face.

“Can I sit with you?” you asked, pressing your hand into the mattress beside him. Thomas looked down at your hand invading his space on the bed and then nodded. He shifted over and you slipped under the quilt, pressing against his side. He was warm, nearly comforting. Thomas stiffened as soon as your skin connected and you weren’t surprised. After watching how this house ran for a week you wouldn’t be surprised to find out you had been the only person to touch Thomas Hewitt in years.

You were about to whisper a few assuring words to him when he shifted. He turned onto his side facing you. You were confronted again with the sheer size of the man and you felt impossibly small so close him. Tommy brought his hand up hesitating before pressing his pointer finger to the scar notched in your upper lip as he had a week ago when you brought him supper.

He dragged his finger down your lips, tracing the edge of jaw and then the length of your neck. He ran his hand down your collarbone, catching the neckline of your shirt and accidently tugging it aside to display more skin. He paused, pressing the fabric back into place before running his hand down your side, stopping at your waist. At exactly the place you had placed his hands a week ago before Hoyt had barged in.

He pressed against your side, pulling you close against him. Your head was dizzy, your skin warm and your heart a thrum in yours ears. Perhaps it was the slow conscious decision behind each of his touches that made you react in such a way. Tommy was so deliberate with every movement as if he was studying how to touch you and not simply doing it. Last week you thought it was instinct but now it seemed like he was learning, following a familiar pattern and then slowly deciding the next step. You decided to lay out the next step for him this time.

“Do you want to kiss me, Tommy?” you asked. He was looking down at you and while the shadows covered his face and hid his eyes you could easily make out the motion of his head when he nodded.

You reached a hand up, pressing your palm against his cheek. Half of your hand caressed leather the other skin. You pushed yourself up, closing yours eyes as your lips met his through the space in his mask. His lips were surprisingly soft and it didn’t feel like a chore or obligation to kiss them. In fact it made a tingle run down your spine and a warmth spread in your middle. You had kissed people before, but never like this and never for this long.

You only broke it when your throat burned for air. Gasping, you smiled. Your fingers brushed back brown waves that had fallen over Thomas’ face. His hand still gripped your waist holding you close to him. It was a sweet gesture, one that no movie date had ever done with you before. They tried to shove their tongues down your throat or slid their hands up your shirt. Despite his size and the roughness of his appearance, Thomas’ touches were incredibly gentle. As if he was afraid he might break you if he held you too hard.

It made your heart skip a beat.

“I like kissing you,” you confessed, your cheeks flushed. Tommy paused. His hand left your waist and pressed against your cheek mirroring your own hand. His thumb ran over your cheekbone. Then he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. His mouth was more urgent, and you could taste the sweetness of his skin. It was mesmerizing and you wanted more. Without parting your kiss you moved, sitting up in the bed so you could have better access to his mouth. Your hand fell from his cheek and clutched his shoulder.

Suddenly it was a mess of limbs wanting to explore more, feel more. In your urgency you pulled yourself onto Thomas’ lap, your knees straddling his hips. His arms were locked around you, his mouth hungry against yours. Your body was warm, flooding with more and more want. You weren’t even thinking of your plans anymore. The outside world was far from your mind, instead it was filled with thoughts of Thomas Hewitt and nothing else.

Your tongue pressed between his lips and he moaned, his hands clutching you tighter. Your hands were hooked into his hair as you explored his mouth, and you could feel him growing hard beneath it.

You were both clay in each other’s hands being molded together.

Suddenly a banging came form upstairs. Like the sound of someone slamming something against the floor. Thomas’ lips left yours and you both went silent, listening for more. You could hear Monty upstairs, his voice raised speaking to someone.

Tommy plucked you off his lap and placed you on the mattress beside him. He got out of bed, pulled his apron on and picked up a chainsaw from a nearby table.

Dread sank into the pit of your stomach where just a moment ago pleasant anticipation had crackled.

“What are you going to do?” you asked, yours eyes moving to the chainsaw’s long blade. It was stained red with blood. Tommy hesitated before rushing over to stand beside the bed. He bent down and pressed a kiss to your forehead and then headed up the stairs.

You heard the roar of a chainsaw and the screaming of some poor soul in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the warmth from Thomas’ lips still lingered against your skin.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #leatherface #slashers x reader

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mintvender · 3 years

Note

Hi there! Can I request the boys' reaction to you being jealous? Maybe Y/N saw someone flirt with the boys'? 💓

Ooh yes, enjoy 🌿💚💚

Harem!AU

BTS’s Reaction to You Getting Jealous

Warning: Slight suggestive moments, killing ( please keep in mind that this story is set in a historical setting where killing was considered to be a normal occurrence)

Masterlist

Kim Taehyung

You and Taehyung were on one of your guys’ rare missions set out by the organization. Even if you are the ruler, your original roots are from the organization so you are obligated to carry a mission when needed. This mission is one of those that is set in a very luxurious brothel. The target is a wellknown business man who has a hobby of meeting up with beauties at night. To say the least, every beauty that is here tonight is more than what meets the eyes. Most would say that they are desperate for money, others would think that they are born from lust, itself; however, whatever way an individual choose to believe, it all comes down to their first night together. Once they have done the deed, those people are forever hooked with those venomous snakes.

Your guys’ organization is very hidden even in the underworld, so all members must wear a covering to prevent exposing their identity. Y/N was wearing a full on mask that represent your alias ‘ Pheonix’. Unlike you, Taehyung chosed to be more revealing and risky, wearing only a thin black veil that can easily be ripped off. Of course, with his not very strong physique, it is extremely risky for him to wear such a frail covering but you decided not to say anything as it is in his right to wear anything he wanted to. But what you are going to do is stick by his side while holding a sword for the rest of the night.

Like any other missions, this one went smoothly. You both managed to finish the guy without anyone noticing courtesy to your deathly abilities and Taehyung’s sharp mind. What didn’t go as plan was that one of the snakes managed to ripped Taehyung’s veil off, revealing his pretty face. Further more, the ‘beauty’ thought that it would be alright to flirt and woo him into her bed. Furious at how daring she was, you decided that it was finally time to end her career. Unsheathing your sword, it only took a few movements of your experienced hand for the deed to be done. Taehyung, confused at what had happened could only offer you a stunned expression. Deciding not to answer him, you sped up your pace, leaving him to run after you. Ignoring him on the way, Taehyung could only pout, trying to get you to forgive him. When he finally managed to forced an answer out of you, he found himself snuggling himself in your hold, trying to persuade you to forgive him; promising that he would not be that reckless again.

“ Y/NNNN, talk to me please? I won’t do it again. I will stick to your side the next time we’re on another mission so forgive me. Please?”

Kim Namjoon

Have you ever have an apprentice that never leaves your side the moment they saw you? Well congratulations, this is one of those scenarios. Recently, you have decided to start enlisting many potential talents for the countless open spots in the various offices. Unsurprisingly, the medicinal department was also short of staff so they were in need of receiving more apprentices. As the head of the department, Namjoon has the final say on who is allowed to enter the department. Lucky for him not for you tho, there are many unpolished gem that wants these positions. Being the wise person he is, he managed to earn the respect of many adolescents on the very first day. All of them were curious children who needed a mentor to help guide them in order to become successful. To Namjoon, there was a particular apprentice that stood out to him. She was very interested in medicine and is highly intelligent in the field so he decided to let her be his private apprentice— who stays by his side every second he is in office and maybe even more.

Anyways, with how much that little girl is staying with Namjoon, it would make sense that she would also accompany him for your monthly checkup as well. The moment you saw that girl walk through the door, you were stunned. Stunned for Namjoon breaking the organization’s rules, and stunned that the girl managed to catch Namjoon’s attention that he was willing to even set his life on the line for her. Before Namjoon could explain the reason of that girl being there, you decided that it was within your right to kick the both of them out. Now, this might be the reason listed above and could be more but for Namjoon, he interpreted your commands as a warning. That if he were to expose his identity, he will absolutely receive none of your help and will have to deal with that on his own.

Acknowledging that you were probably right, he decided to reassigned the girl to another physician after your multiple attempts of ignoring him — not wanting to get in between his problems as it’s too risky. The next time you guys’ had a monthly checkup, the girl was nowhere in sight but your silent treatment still remained firm. Knowing that it was his fault, Namjoon could only apologize and would not do it again. He then slowly walked over to the desk near your bed and began making a concoction of herbs to help calm you down. However, unlike his usual calm self, he had clumsily shattered a few bowls while at it. Y/N could only sighed before bending down and cleaning it up before going over to him to check on his wounds. How could you let your intelligent yet clumsy physician if he were to break things everytime he crawl back to you and apologize?

“ I apologized, Y/N. I was not in my right state of mind to consider the possible risks that it would bring to our organizations. I was too excited when I saw her thesis that I completely lost my rationale.”

Jung Hoseok

Because of his wretched father, Hoseok found himself having to return to his old home every couple of weeks. His father had complained to you that Hoseok was neglecting his maternal family the moment that he was wedded to you. Y/N, not wanting to create a bigger mess, managed to convince Hoseok to return to his home every once in awhile which leads us back to the current situation. Before Hoseok got wedded to Y/N, he already had a fiancé which he has bonded throughout most of his childhood. Of course, Hoseok only saw her as a friend who he has a platonic relationship with or simply a sister, but that was far from what the girl had wanted. His ex-fiancé, Miyoung was studying abroad so she was not immediately notified of him entering the harem but the minute she got informed, she was packing her belongings and heading back.

The trip started out as any other with Hoseok getting greeted the moment he enters the front yard by the matriarch along with his father and countless servants. This time however, the moment he saw Miyoung standing courteously behind his father, Hoseok wanted nothing more than to run for the carriage that had already left. You see, when Miyoung confessed her feelings to him—who did not her and got rejected; she did everything in her power to get engaged to him and that was how she became his fiancé. From that day on, Hoseok’s relationship with her only continued to sour before they were not contacting for months on end when she’s studying abroad. The matriarch—who did not agreed on him marrying Y/N, purposely set the both of them together, wanting the pair to interact together. This idea was not only reckless and unecessary as it it basically threading your position as his spouse and have him cheat on the ruler of the nation. Hoseok’s matriarch had also stupidly decided to invite you to come as well, wanting you to witness the couple’s strong bond personally.

Knowing that you could not deny her offer as they are still one of the major families, you had coincidentally entered the room at the time when Miyoung was being extra touchy. The sight, however, did not stunned you but only made you more confused. Questions began to erupt from your mouth asking about the situation while watching Hoseok desperately trying to escape Miyoung’s grip the moment he saw you. Expectedly, the matriarch’s answer is utter garbage, knowing that this is all a setup. Deciding to just stand there and wait for Hoseok to escape from Miyoung, you observed the main contirbutor’s expressions, silently judging their ability to properly. But the moment Hoseok managed to move within your arm’s length, you could feel his little suprised gasp as you pulled him into your hold before leading him out of the place not before warning to not touch what is yours. On your guys’ way home, Hoseok tried to explain what you had witnessed but instead got the silent treatment. Let’s say that it was extremely daring to touch a assassin’s possessions but a nation’s ruler as well is simply too moronically.

“ It was not what you think, your highness. We may not know each other for long but I’m incredibly loyal! That girl was my fiancé before I got wedded to you but I don’t love her! Please believe me!”

Min Yoongi

You getting jealous with Yoongi would happened on a blue moon as he is frequently seen by your side and that most people inside the palace hate his family too much to hit on him but it does still happen. Like any other day, Yoongi is with you in your office helping you with the minor tasks. Seeing how he was getting comfortable with the tasks you had given him, you decided that it was time for him to interact with some other officers in the smaller departments. Yoongi, of course was extremely nervous but wanted to make you proud so he quickly set off to his destination. The task you assigned was quite simple; getting the finished manuscripts that have been assigned yesterday. Everything seemed to go smoothly but what did not was the officers’ attitude towards Yoongi.

As they were considered to be quite young, they must have not know that the boy that is getting is one of your consorts as Yoongi usually prefers to dress in casual clothing; they decided that it was appropriate to flirt with him during office hours. With him having a more petite and delicate figure, it was extremely easy to turn him into their little doll— well or so they had thought. Sensing their hidden intentions towards him, Yoongi quickly asked for the needed documents before hurriedly making his way back. Unfortunately, before he can make his way past the entrance, a pair of hands grabbed his torso, restricting his movement. The officer began to whisper disgusting words in his hears causing Yoongi to instinctly attemp escape. Thanks to his previous training, he managed to escape their grip and ran out of the office, desperately running back to you.

Unexpedtly the officers decided to chase him, still thinking that his master is some low-rank minister that they could easily persuade. Lucky for them, Yoongi directly ran towards your courtyard but before they managed to realized where he was heading towards, they were caught by the guards that had seen the commotion. The moment that Yoongi ran into you arms, you felt your adrenaline spiked as your poor consort slightly trembles and only offered you faint whimpers as answers to your questions. Deciding that this was not meant for him, you assigned another type of tasks after he ha recovered. To say the least, those officers were never seen again the morning after that.

“ T-t-hey touched me while whispered those erotic words in my ears. I’m sorry, you majesty, I couldn’t acomplished the task when they trapped me in their hold. I began to panicked and...”

Jeon Jungkook

Aside from being a bastard’s child, Jungkook could also be described as an outstanding male from many perspectives. So of course, many girls and eunuchs would be constantly be flirty with the young guard. Many, however, is smart enough to avoid doing said activities around you but there are still some that does not have the brain to think rationally. The longer he is under your teaching, the more polite he becomes. Unfortunately, his seemingly innocent greetings was misunderstood by these brainless fellows which resulted in quite a few episodes of misunderstanding. To Jungkook, he is using the people around him as a tool to help him enhance his logical thinking to not burden you as much but it seemed like his efforts had caused quite the tensions within the harem. Many maids would began to form groups and bet on who would end up with him. The competitions began to become so popular tha it even reaches your ears!

As you became more aware of the gossips within the harem, many are targeted towards your personal bodyguard. As the days goes by, the seemingly pile of gossips about Jungkook became to get bigger until you decided that it would be best to stop his lessons altogether deeming that it was no use to him. As first, Jungkook was quite confused on how sudden you decided to cancel his lessons and ultimately blamed it on himself. Thinking that he had burdened you, Jungkook once again turned into his past self. Hiding his emotions as it does not matter how much he tries to improve on himself if his master does not think that he is worthy.

However, before he gets fully entitled to that state, you managed to come in at the right time and bring him out again. This is however, quite the process as he now want you to be proud of him. His self-esteem would not be as high as before as he had already registered in his mind that he had dissapointed you. Even though the process would take awhile, the end result would be worth it. Jungkook would be his best self yet and is continually striving to make you proud of him.

“ I know that you are dissapoin— you’re not? No, you must be lying! If you aren’t dissapointed then why did you have to stop the lessons. Was I too troublesome? I’m not? Are you sure? You must be accountable to your words and resume our lessons, then!”

Kim Seokjin

As a merchant, Seokjin is known to be skillful in negotiating terms with different customers. Most of the times, it would benefit his business but at the same time, his relationship with you would be on a thin string. As you guys continue to bond, different feelings would naturally develop and jealousy would definately not be excluded.

With the Y/N dynasty being a new dynasty, it would make sense that you have to put in much more effort to gain alliances with the surrounding countries neighbouring you. And of course, one of the princess that was sent as an ambassador had to know the talented merchant in some sort of way. You then found out that the two became friends over their love for jewelry and talking about whatever through the night and into the early mornings. Seeing how closed they were, you decided that it would be incredibly polite for you to ignore them and focus your attention on the rest of your guests and your consorts.

Usually, whenever Seokjin would offer you a flirty comment, you woul jokingly replied back with another one of sort as well but that was not what happened tonight. Your replies towards his jokes were quite distant and cold with you having your attention on someone as but him. Seokjin, who was not used to this treatment soon found out your reasons after the banquet and ultimately decided to tease you which only ended in him whining about how childish you’re being.

“ You’re jealous! Over her? HAH! You must have fallen in love with my handsome face... Why are you not saying anything? You’re ignoring such a handsome face, how could you!”

Park Jimin

Unlike Jungkook who does not care about people who perceive him, Jimin takes the extra mile to make sure that everyone see how beautiful he is. His fame within the harem immediately skyrocketed the moment he took up the title as one of the consort. It was to be expected with how frequent he flirted with the maids whenever he pass by them. Of course, he only think that it was fun to tease them as his main goal is still you after all.

Every year, the entire country would celebrate one of its most important holidays— Seollal, where it is one of the only days where festivals are around every direction you look at, and family would reunite with each other to welcome the new year. Within the palace, however, it is celebrated a little different; a full fledge banquet is arranged on the night before the new year and with Jimin leading the performance. With his skillful moves that had took years to master, everyone can agreed that it was a pleasure to look at. What did not please you was how revealing your consort’s attire was. With every move, the fabric was seemingly getting looser that you would have stop the performance already if you were not the of the highest authority in the room. What made it worse was how much eye contact he managed to make with you during his performance, and to say that you were not angry was simply outright lying.

The moment his performance had ended, you decided that Jimin had been working too hard lately and is in desperate need of relaxing. Thinking that he finally push you off the edge, Jimin happily accept your offer and left. What he had not unexpected was you taking him out on a walk when the banquet had ended. You even had the guts to act like nothing had happened hours before this resulting in him yelling at you before grumpily storming back to his courtyard, sulking in his room. Y/N could only laugh seeing his reaction before running towards his room to comfort the boy, deciding that they have teased him enough.

“ Why are you here? No, don’t you dare enter! GET OUT! Hmph, how dare you pretend like nothing happened and teased about it? Didn’t I say that you are not allowed in here? Hmph, fine, come in.”

#bts reactions #bts imagines #bts hoseok #bts jimin #bts jungkook #bts rm #bts seokjin #bts yoongi #harem au #anon #asks #bts scenarios #bts taehyung #mintvender #bts x reader #bts x y/n #anon asks #Ot7

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what-big-teeth · 3 years

Text

Moving In

And done! The winner of the 500 raffle, @a-third-attempt, requested a story featuring a clumsy male arachnid with a gender neutral reader. As I’m mainly familiar with driders, I decided to create a tarantula drider for this story. I hope you all enjoy! Gender Neutral Reader (POV) x Male Monster You tread the beaten path before you with steady steps, letting it lead you deeper into the forest. Your legs are grateful for the chance to stretch and the low-impact of the flat ground beneath your feet. The scent of faint petrichor and deep earthiness fills your nose with a long inhale. It’s calming, overall, more so thanks to the cool spring air. And best of all, your planned venture is taking you to one of your favorite places. The Selenite Hollows showcase an amazing array of different gypsum crystals. You learned from your many visits that they can be bent into different shapes with one’s bare hands. This method is how you received the white, corded pendant hanging against your chest. All thanks to your boyfriend, Tarren.

You couldn’t have predicted his creative side when you two first met him four months ago while hiking. That presumption was thanks to how he accidentally tripped over his eight legs while coming closer to introduce himself. But you found his clumsiness charming along with the fuzzy, tarantula legs he supports himself on. The fact that Tarren’s white hair contrasts beautifully with his gray upper body and pitch black bottom also helped immensely. You’ve spent numerous weekends visiting Tarren at his abode. And you’ve treasured the time you two spend together, exploring uninhabited parts of the Hollows and greeting his nonhuman neighbors. It’s a shame you won’t be able to visit the caves again.

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip at the fact. Thanks to the growing instability working its way around the Hollows, it’s been deemed unlivable by the City. And as such, its residents have been given ample time to collect their belongings and move. Tarren included. You blurted a solution once he shared the news: moving in with you. Unsurprisingly, he sputtered at your suggestion, his eight black eyes widening then flitting to the ground. While you both have visited each other countless times, you’ve never stayed overnight. But after weighing the positives against the drawbacks together, he agreed to a temporary stay. Which left you both happy and apprehensive. You had prior significant others before him, but you’ve never felt as at home with them like Tarren. A small yet growing part of you worries about him seeing your habits. You consider yourself pretty normal. Sure, there may be a few odd food combinations you love that others have turned their noses up at. And your exes have complained about your snoring and starfishing habits. But you both care deeply for each other and such small things would never change that. Right? As you approach the Hollows’ entrance, your stomach begins to make itself known. A frisson of fear churns inside you, unwilling to be ignored. You’re forced to pause to steel yourself by taking a deep breath. Think of Tarren; what you’re going through is meager compared to his sudden displacement. There’s no use in adding more stress to an already taxing situation. So you plaster a smile onto your lips and cross the threshold. “Incoming!” You swiftly step to the side, avoiding the resident chiropteran children who almost barrel into you. The older two of the group dart past you with a brief “sorry!” after a quick use of chirps and clicks. The youngest trails behind them, flapping their large bat wings in order to gain ground. But the two dive down a pathway out of reach, leaving the little one to squeak in frustration. You huff out a laugh and call out to them, reminding them to be careful. You wouldn’t be surprised if they managed to finagle their way out of helping their parents pack. You walk past the home of the young naga couple who are tending to their son, offering a kind hello, one they return with smiles. Their neighbors, a multi-generational family of mothpeople, chitter happily when glimpsing you. The matriarch offers you some homemade, sweet nectar cookies, for you and Tarren when you both have a moment. You pause to thank her for her kindness before promising to return. You continue onward, greeting the other dwellers until you reach the final “house”. Inside, Tarren carefully gathers some of his belongings and tucks them into an antique trunk you gifted him on his birthday. When not afflicted with his endearing clumsiness, he moves with a slow sleekness that hints to his true strength and dexterity. You can’t help but admire the sight and lean against his home’s entrance to admire him. He begins turning towards his books, but his dark eyes notice your movements and flit towards you. “Hey there, handsome,” you say with a grin. Tarren beams, revealing the ends of his prominent black fangs. His hands skim one of the book’s spine as he hurries toward you. He leans down to embrace you, and you revel in the way his claws graze against your nape. “Lovebug! I’m glad you’re here.” His hold tightens to a comfortable snugness, one interspersed with trembling. “So very glad.” You thread a hand through his thin, short locks and nuzzle against his cool cheek. From what Tarren told you about his childhood, he’d been something of a loner. And not by his own choice. Concerning his particular species, once self-sufficient, they were expected to leave the nest to fend for themselves. So the fact that he found a welcoming community to live in was a godsend. Having to lose that sense of belonging and familiarity in one fell swoop... Hopefully, with a bit of luck, he’ll come to see your cabin as a new home. Tarren presses his lips against your temple, his palps caressing your skin. You tilt your head back and gently kiss him, long and slow. Being careful of his fangs, he deepens the gesture, coaxing a sigh from your lips. Needing air, you pull away and hear him whine in reply. “There’ll be more where that came from when we get home,” you say around a chuckle. His smile falters, but he quickly turns away towards his bookshelf. As if to keep you from seeing. “Of course,” he says. “I just have a few other things to pack.” Ignoring the growing uncertainty in your chest, you force a smile. “How can I help?” With Tarren’s instruction, you’re both able to finish loading his belongings into his trunk in a timely manner. This gives you both time to say your goodbyes to his neighbors. After providing your contact information and collecting your promised sweet nectar cookies, the families promise to reach out to you both once settled. The hike back towards the outskirts of town is quiet, interspersed with soft chewing. The cookies are delicious as always, but their sweetness does nothing for the awkwardness between you two. Tarren is more focused on keeping his trunk balanced on top of his abdomen and taking in the passing sights of the forest. “Everything okay?” you gently hedge. Tarren startles somewhat, but his attention turns to you. He smiles, but it’s lacking in sincerity. “I’ll be alright. It’ll just...take some time, is all.” You hum, unsure of what else to say. So you stay silent, turning phrases and topics in your head to pass the time. And hopefully to make Tarren feel more at ease. You both come to the crest of a hill with a large tree at the top, the last landmark before glimpsing your cabin. The outside is rustic, as many are and neatly surrounded by growing foliage. That took some time to do as did tidying up the inside as you took into account Tarren’s larger size and gait. But the completed preparations don’t deter the nerves quivering in your stomach. Still, you do your best to present your home with a flourish of your hand. “And we’re here!” Tarren takes in the two-story structure with a soft smile. “It’s very charming,” he says. “Just like you.” A sudden heat fills your cheeks as you wet your dried lips. If he’s able to flirt, then maybe he’s starting to feel a little bit better. You vow then and there to do all you can to alleviate his discomfort and make him feel at home. “Right back at you, handsome. Come on, I’ll show you where you can put your trunk.” You both descend the hillside. Tarren slips a little on the way down, but recovers with your help. Due to the size of the cabin’s entrance, he switches to carrying his trunk and squeezes through the door. In anticipation of his arrival, you’ve shifted the layout of the living room’s recliners and table, ensuring a clear path for him. You hadn’t touched the kitchen as of yet, wanting to hear his opinion. “You mentioned having an attic, right?” That question throws off your train of thought. “Oh, um, yes. It’s somewhat dusty since I haven’t had time to clean it yet…” “That’s fine,” he says. “Do you mind if I stay there?” Your eyes widen. You’re tempted to object since the attic is no place for anyone to sleep. But Tarren simply caresses your cheek and gives you a soft smile. It’s what he’s always done to reassure you. “I’ll be fine. I can even tidy it up for you. It’ll give me something to do after unpacking.” You shake your head, trying to speak. But Tarren doesn’t give you the chance. “I’ll come down later once I’m finished. Get some rest, alright?” He turns away, slowly carrying his trunk up the stairs. The doubts that began rooting themselves in your minds plunge deeper. You can only watch as he walks out of sight, listening as the attic’s hatch opens and closes. Part of you wants to follow after him and reach out. But the delicacy of the whole situation weighs heavily on you. Even as your stomach churns at the decision, you turn towards the kitchen to make lunch. Turning on the slow cooker and pouring in last night’s venison stew doesn’t require much effort. But it does give you more time with your thoughts, which slowly but surely, are veering towards the negative. A high-pitched beep from the pot’s timer refocuses your attention. “Is that lunch?” You jolt, nearly dropping the used ladle into the sink. Tarren shrinks away, looking at you with guilt-filled eyes. “S-sorry. I’m still unpacking, so I was hoping to take it upstairs.” You don’t want to exacerbate his remorse, so you quickly agree and provide him a spoon and a paper towel. He softly thanks you and retreats back upstairs, the sight leaving you unsettled. Little did you know this would be the norm for the next few days. You’d wish Tarren a good morning and a good night from the second floor when the time came. Then, you’d go about your daily tasks, including working from home on your laptop. The only time you’d see Tarren was when hunger or the need to bathe forced him from the attic. He’d always take his meal upstairs and go further up the pathway towards a nearby river to wash himself. Even then, sometimes you’d never catch him when he returned from outside. It’s no surprise that sleep became elusive during this time. You lie in bed on your back after a bout of tossing and turning. But it wasn’t due to any myriad of invasive sounds. No, it’s the discomfiting silence from the attic. The not-knowing; the growing distance between you and Tarren. Restlessness pulls at your limbs and you give into it, climbing to your feet. Your dry mouth could use some water anyway. You quietly take the stairs, being cautious of the areas prone to squeaking. It made witnessing the sight before the kitchen sink that much easier. Tarren sits facing the basin, his legs bent and his lower half flush against the wooden floor. The moonlight from outside reveals his claws carefully tugging at pieces of his loose exoskeleton. He hisses, his fangs becoming prominent as he lifts away the rigid covering. You only notice the lack of distance between you two once your hand touches his shoulder. Tarren startles, his wide eyes flitting up to you. They widen more as your vision blurs and waters. “Lovebug?” You slowly kneel by his side, taking in his presence but resisting the urge to embrace him. “You’re hurt,” you croak out. “No, no, dearest. I’m not hurt. Just uncomfortable. I’m....well…” He turns away from you to stare down at the leg he was tending to. “I-It’s time for my molting. It isn’t the most pleasant thing to see and I didn’t want to worry you…” You silently repeat the last few words of his explanation and suddenly, things click into place. Why he kept to himself mostly and didn’t appear before you except to tend to his most basic needs. Frustration and guilt grip at your chest but you realize you’re partially at fault for simply not talking. As Tarren keeps explaining himself, fear lacing into his expression, you wrap your arms around him and lean into his chest. He stutters out your name, tensing, but you hold tight and refuse to stay silent. “I didn’t want to force you to do anything because I thought it’d make you uncomfortable. But part of me also didn’t want you to see my bad habits, either. To regret...wanting to date me.” Tarren relaxes in your arms, releasing a long breath. His arms wind around you, drawing you closer. “I guess we both wanted to show each other our best sides,” he murmured. “But we ended up hurting each other, instead.” You sniff, feeling a few errant tears roll down your cheek. You look up at Tarren and he wipes at the growing wetness with the pad of his clawed thumb. “We did,” you say, “but we can fix that. Starting now and from now on, if you’ll let me.” A long pause. As his claws skim against the nape of your neck, making you shudder, Tarren nods. It takes three hours for you both to finish coaxing along the molting process. Once done, you both pack the old exoskeleton away in a large trash bag. Immediately after, you notice Tarren’s movements becoming sluggish with him barely able to keep his eyes open. Cupping his cheek, you murmur that you’ll be right back before bounding up the stairs and into the attic. True to his word, Tarren had cleaned up, leaving no traces of dust behind. You’ll have to thank him once he’s fully recovered. But for now, it’s important to tend to him. You grab the extra blankets and pillows kept in storage and toss them through the hatch before climbing down. With some maneuvering, you’re able to carry the pile down to the living room and set up a makeshift bed. It takes patience and shared leverage, but you both make it towards the bed and snuggle into the soft, plush pile. Tarren gathers the majority of the pillows to support his upper half while his lower rests flush against the ground. “Comfy?” you ask. “Yes, very.” His half lidded eyes take you in while his hand finds yours to intertwine your fingers with his. “I’m sorry for not explaining myself these past few days. I just...wanted you to still look at me like you are now.” “I am, too. Just know that I love you, Tarren and I want this to last. As long as you feel the same way.” “Oh Lovebug, how could I not?” The sleepy way his mouth slots against yours and his palps caress your skin tell you more than words could ever say. But the way he breathes “I love you, too” against your lips isn’t unwelcome. As sleep slowly claims you, you inch closer to your boyfriend as he nuzzles your hair. Tomorrow will bring a new day, the first of many that you know you will use to strengthen your relationship. Together.

#drider boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster/human #exophilia #terato #gender neutral reader #GN!reader

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