#(screaming into a loudspeaker) it’s been you and me since before i was me

[bvllyrag]

MY WHOLE LIFE, YES. YES, FOREVER, YES.

#(screaming into a loudspeaker) it’s been you and me since before i was me #the locked tomb #tlt spoilers #tlt #camilla hect #palamedes sextus #paul the sixth #didn’t want to let it rot in my files 90% done so i dragged myself to the finish line with this one kinda #for the bible heads out there. camilla is holding the 1611 print of the king james bible #cw burns #cw gore

[httpknjoon]

hello boyfriend | jjk

plot | You're drunk. Blaire was supposed to drive home but you want no one except your boyfriend to pick you up. The boyfriend that Blaire completely knows nothing about.

words | 2238

genres | fluff, crack,  secret relationship au, established relationship au, friends to lovers au

pairing | jungkook x reader

warnings | alcohol consumption, cursing

note | this one has been sitting in my docs for months now. but it's here! i missed writing for these two. let me know your thoughts! enjoy reading!

main masterlist  |  drabble series masterlist

"Wait! Wait! Wait!"

Through the ear-piercing and booming beat in the club, you managed to get the attention of your friends with your rowdy exclamation. There are only three people in your booth but because of the music, you had to speak like you are talking to a crowd. Even though you felt like everything around you was spinning, you managed to stand from the leather seat.

"What... What did you... did you just say?" your body swayed as you slurred your words.

Ella, the one who invited you tonight, repeated, stammering, "I said, being single is good, right? We're both been single for a very, very long time now. So, I guess, you'll understand."

She was a good friend of yours and Blaire, who's sitting next to you, from college. Three of you went to the same university years ago.  After graduating, Ella left the country and worked abroad. Five years later, she came back and immediately set a night to meet you and Blaire to catch up personally. It took three hours of chatting, reminiscing, and drinking to get you to the state you are in now. As the one with the highest drinking tolerance and always the designated driver, Blaire stays sober. While her two other friends came up with this dumb topic.

You tried to be steady on your feet as you looked at Ella, "Tsk. Tsk. That's where you are wrong."

Blaire bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. You were never this drunk since you began working or when you were out with your other friends. However, in college, you became too drunk one time that she had to call Jennie on the phone since you want to talk to your best friend or you’ll cry. But later, you became the one who will snooze off first after just a few drinks. But tonight, you were a little more talkative and vibrant than usual.

"I…” you grinned widely.  “have a boyfriend," you confessed, holding your head high.

Ella being the tipsy person that she is gasped dramatically. Like, she was betrayed or something. On the other hand, Blaire just shakes her head while putting down her almost-empty bottle. She assumes that you are simply babbling nonsense. She vividly remembers you rejecting Jenny’s blind date set up like a year ago, saying that you are happy with being single.

"Okay, okay. Both of you are already drunk. Let's just leave this—"

"Wait! No!" you screamed, cutting off Blaire. "You don't believe me, huh?"

You squinted your eyes at her before reaching for your phone in your purse. With all the alcohol flowing in your body this night, you had the urge to prove something to your friends. You unlocked your phone after two dizzy attempts and immediately rummage through your contacts. Your eyes gleamed when you found Bam’s dad. Jungkook set it up himself out of a joke.

"I'll go to the restroom." Ella was about to leave your booth when you pulled her arm back to her seat again.

"Wait, I'll prove to you that I'm not single. I’m seeing someone for two years now!" you persisted even though no one challenged you.

"But, I need to pee!" she whined and even stomped her heel on the ground.

You placed a finger on your lips, signaling for her to quiet down. You clicked your phone screen and it immediately began ringing. Your two friends heard it too since you put it in loudspeaker mode. Blaire leaned her back on the couch, massaging her forehead. She thought maybe you just clicked on some random contact or number on your phone. She hates to be the one to explain to your contact about your drunk action.

She can't stop herself from sighing, "Y/N, you're drunk. Let’s just go—"

"Hey, princess." 

"Hey, princess."

Jungkook rubs his eyes as he answered a call from you. His voice was raspier and deeper since he was just woken up from a short nap. He looked at his laptop in front of him and sees the work he left off before dozing off. He leaned his back on his swivel chair while he spotted Bam sleeping on his dog bed. Based on the noisy background from your line, it seems like you're still out. You told him earlier that you're going out with Blaire and Ella, whom he once met years ago too during college. So, he suggested having Bam in his place for the night. You said you’ll go home straight to your place since Blaire would be driving. He agreed, making her promise to contact and update you.

"Hello, boyfriend!" you giggled like a kid, making him smile instantly.

He can tell that you're already intoxicated just by the way you call him with that endearment. It’s one of those secret signs that you already have too many drinks. 

"Hello, girlfriend.” He greeted back with the same tone you used. He cannot help but chuckle. “How are you? Are you having fun there?"

"It's fun! It's great actually!" you chattered. "But... I miss you."

Jungkook can mentally picture you batting your eyelashes while pouting your lips from your location. He chuckled again, "Is that so?"

“Yes.” you huffed. “I want to go home!”

“Well, have you told Blaire? She’ll drive you home, right?”

It took you a long to respond. Jungkook only heard the music playing in the background and a few dialogues of you with Blaire, confusing him a little.

“I was telling you two, let’s go. I’ll drive.” He heard Blaire’s voice. Then another voice,

“Oh my gosh, can I just go pee now?!”

“No! I want my boyfriend to pick me up!”

“Princess–” Jungkook was about to try to talk to you but somebody spoke again. You were heard whining in the background.

“Hi, uhm… Bam’s dad.” Blaire paused as she read his contact name. “Um, you’re Y/N’s boyfriend?”

“Y-Yes.” he stuttered, suddenly feeling a weird knot in his stomach. 

On the other hand, Blaire wanted to ask more about this unknown guy since you never mentioned dating anyone. It was suspicious how suddenly there is Bam’s Dad on your phone. She was contemplating if she should let you go home with this man as she doesn’t have any idea who he is. But she tried to shake off any negative thoughts since she will probably meet him later.

“It’s Blaire, Y/N’s friend, and assumably babysitter for tonight.” she shortly introduced herself, unaware that a close friend of hers is on the other line.  “She may be told you that I will drive them home tonight, which is what I was supposed to do now. But, your girlfriend here is being bratty and–”

“I’m not being bratty. I just miss him.” you cut your friend off with a huff.

“Whatever. Anyways, we’re in Double Aces. Can you pick her up?” Blaire exhaled. Jungkook can imagine her rolling her eyes in annoyance. 

Although taken aback, Jungkook replied, “Uh, of course. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Did his voice just go deeper?! Why? 

“Great! We’ll be waiting outside the bar, probably in my car. I just need to get these two away from more alcohol.” Blaire hurriedly said before hanging up.

Jungkook was admittedly hesitant at first. Suddenly, it felt like he doesn’t know Blaire and he has to introduce himself again. This time, as your boyfriend. He felt conscious about himself all over again. Thoughts and questions were all over his head before Bam, who woke up, snapped him out by barking. He breathed heavily.

“Okay, okay. Let’s pick up mom,” he told the dog, who followed him behind as he stood up.

Jungkook moved quickly, putting on his hoodie and picking up his keys. He opted to leave Bam since he’ll probably be too excited in the car to see you, even though you’re probably intoxicated. The drive to Double Aces was only fifteen minutes. Just when he arrived in front of the said bar, he saw a familiar car in front of the club.

And there he sees Blaire had your arm linked to her as you sway back and forth. She was holding an open bottle of water,

“Geez. Just drink it.”

“Okay, okay. Come on, ladies.”

Blaire returned your phone to your hand. You gasped when you saw the call already ended, and your friend rolled her eyes. Ella just watched the interaction between you two with heavy eyes. She raised an eyebrow,

“What do you mean?”

“I meant, we’re leaving. Go pick up your purse, I’m driving you back to your hotel.” Blaire replied.

“How about me?!” you whined.

“Your boyfriend is picking you up. He’s on his way.”

Boyfriend. Curiosity builds up in her chest as Blaire wonders who this mystery guy is. His voice seemed familiar though. But she cannot remember who she heard that voice from.

Your eyes widened in delight, “He is?! Yay!”

After five more minutes of talking to you and Ella, Blaire managed to convince you both to leave the club. She bought two bottles of water for each of you two. Ella was soberer than you so she was easy to follow when told to get in the car. Meanwhile, you insist on waiting outside the car for your boyfriend. Blaire, who just doesn’t want to argue, waited with you. She chain-linked her and your arms since you cannot really stand straight, leaning and moving back and forth. She still laughs at your unusual state.

She chirped, “How can I let you go with this mysterious boyfriend if your state is like this?”

“What?” you turned your head to her, eyes getting droopy. “He’s not mysterious.”

“I don’t know who the guy is, Y/N. You literally just dropped the news like twenty minutes ago. I don’t even know if I can trust him in taking you back to your home.” she replied seriously even though she was unsure you can truly understand her.

You smiled, “Oh, you’ll trust him. I’m sure. You know him.”

You were totally far from being sober. You just let words run out of your mouth, not really thinking anything.

“I know him?” Blaire repeated with a mocking tone. “Well then, what’s his name?”

“Jungkook.” 

A second of silence. Then, Blaire rolled her eyes again.

“Oh, fuck off.”

She laughed as she opened the bottle of water. Jungkook? Impossible. He is in your share friend group and if you two are dating for a couple of years now as you claimed, she would have known it by now. You were about to say more but she cuts you off while shaking her head,

“Geez. Just drink it.”

Blaire watch you guzzle the liquid before she heard a car engine near them. That’s when she sees a very familiar Jeep Wrangler and she knows only one person who drives around with that car. The door from the driver's side opened and as she quickly recognize who it was, she raised her eyebrows and swore it almost went past her forehead.

“What the fuck?”

“Babe!” 

You ran to Jungkook with open arms and immediately hugged him when walked in front of you and Blaire. Blaire remained wide-eyed at her spot. Jungkook tried to smile,

“Hi, Blaire.”

His smile was in between forced and nervous. He had his one hand on your back since you were still hugging him while the other gave a single wave to your statued friend. He knew you can hear his heavy heartbeats with how close your ear is to his chest while Blaire stared at you two.

“Y–You’re…” Blaire stutters as her index finger points between you and him.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah… two years.”

You finally turned around, “See? I told you!”

Jungkook laughed at that while the surprise still hasn’t worn off Blaire. Somehow, your drunkenness calmed him down. She was about to say something when you looked at your boyfriend.

“Let’s go home. I’m tired.” you pouted.

“Okay, princess.”

Blaire just stood there, trying to remember the times she has seen you two together alone during group hangouts. Things were starting to make sense. If you didn’t run to hug her, she’s probably still spacing out there.

“I told you, you can trust him,” you whispered before turning to your boyfriend. “Babe, say goodbye to her!”

He followed, still wearing that shy smile on his face. Blaire just broke into a smile too, giving him a pat on his arm.

“I honestly have a lot of questions right now,” she confessed.

“I know. Surprise?” Jungkook joked and they both giggled. But when it dies down, he tried to say something, “Since she’s drunk and will likely forget tomorrow  that she just revealed our relationship, I hope… maybe you can…”

Without any more words or explanation, Blaire nods and formed a reassuring smile, “Yeah, I get it. I’m good at keeping secrets. We can talk all about this later… maybe when your girlfriend is sober and awake.”

She nods her chin to you. You were already resting your head on Jungkook while he holds you by the waist.

“Okay. Thank you, Blaire.” he smiled, weights lifting off his chest.

Blaire watched as Jungkook assist you in walking to his car. You were rambling about random things and he was playing along, nodding, and showing genuine reactions. She cannot help but smile at the interaction.

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#bts fluff #bts crack #bts series #bts drabble #bts scenarios #bts secret relationship au #bts established relationship au #bts friends to lovers #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook drabble #jungkook series #jungkook secret relationship au #jungkook established relationship #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook and bam #our little private love affair

[elbasanluis]

act one: scenes one, two, & three

June 19, 2012

“Unemotionally, Elba.” A set of claws scratched a warning sign at the nape of her neck. “Keep approaching with your heart first. Watch how many times you fail.” Her daughter was pushed forward. The new werewolf caught herself, palms skidding across the pavement of their side garage. She winced, even as they tingled and healed themselves. “Up!” boomed the voice of Lori San Luis.

Elba was already in a fighting stance, but her shoulders slacked the enthusiasm her mother was encouraging. Transition wouldn’t be complete until the next full moon had risen. Every waking moment until then was pure agony for the seventeen year old. Her bones felt on fire day in and day out with the addition of her mother’s daily training regime. Rest was nonexistent.

“Hands up, claws out. Come at me with every little bit you have.” Lori taunted her daughter, aware that tugging at strings of anger was a necessity in a werewolf showcasing all of its capabilities. Anger was the key to the world. It would make her daughter a stronger wolf, and a better woman. “Do I need to call up Hails Garrett?” She even went as far as naming the bully Elba had been dealing with since the start of high school.

Really, that sort of teaching would never rile anything up inside of Elba. From an age too early to remember, she’d been building thicker skin with each pinch from her mother, or Hails Garrett, or anyone, for that matter. This stirred no reaction and jagged claws remained hidden inside nail beds. But orders were orders and her hands remained held high, molded into tight fists. “I- I don’t need my claws for this part, right?”

“You’re the judge of that,” Lori dared, stone-faced and mirroring her daughter’s stance. Only, of course, Lori’s sharp around the edges. “Beat me. I’m in not mood to drawn you an ice bath. NOW.”

It was not the forcefulness of the scream which caused Elba to shoot forward, but the threat. Her strides could’ve been greater, faster, smoother. It certainly wouldn’t be enough to overtake an experienced werewolf. Lori’s arm came into hard contact with her daughter’s chest, this time Elba colliding with the asphalt below. Her head bounced, leaving her vision dancing with stars even though it was a relatively cloudy night. The wind had been knocked out of her, too. She gasped.

“Lori-Jane.” The severity of the tone cut through the tensions between mother and daughter. “Do you wish to explain to myself and our comrades what it is you’re doing?” For a very long time, Elba thought Dahlia to be a myth the way their pack both revered and feared her. In other words, to the aspiring wolf, she was perfect. There was no one Lori had such a disdain for as much as the eldest werewolf in their pack. She still looked so refined in comparison to their shotty drive, leaving Lori’s jaw to clench. Dahlia sauntered forward and crouched to young Elba’s aid, patting her dark hair gently.

To any ears, Lori’s defense seemed viable. “It’s tradition. Mothers teach daughters.” But Elba knew as well as Dahlia, that the greatest insult her mother could deliver, was one which blared your insecurities on a loudspeaker. 

Dahlia had never been a mother herself, but her knowledge would still go further than Lori’s own teachings could ever imagine. So, as Elba had, Dahlia did not react. “I see.” Dahlia clicked her tongue. The hand which rested upon Elba began to twitch, Dahlia’s veins turning a deep purple, as rich as ink. The only reason Elba was able to witness the miracle with her as wide as saucers, was because in an instant, she no longer endured the ache that’d been inflicted upon her lungs. 

She could breathe.

The eldest werewolf could sense Elba had more questions than ever, as did any new wolf, but this case was special. “We will chat about that at this Friday’s meeting. That’s when we are meant to discuss your teachings, my girl. Our new tradition is learning our histories firsthand, before ever taking a single step onto the battlefield. Keep our minds sharp. Isn’t that correct, Lori-Jane, or has one too many of these sessions rattled yours?” Dahlia’s fingers lingered in Elba’s soft waves, the creases in her forehead deepening as she smiled endearingly. “Go clean up, please. While I remind your mother of certain… expectations.”

Elba knew she wasn’t meant to hear the end of Dahlia’s sentence as she slinked into the one bedroom home. However, Dahlia didn’t plant seeds carelessly nor without reason. It would’ve done Elba well to take heed of the warning then.

---

July 28, 2022

Her knees rested on either side of the redcap’s hip bones, his sizable hand planted to the back of Elba’s already matted hair. They continued to kiss deeply. She had an affinity with lips. They deserved her undivided appreciation. It was the only house of worship she’d ever devote herself to. His gratitude was certainly felt as he managed to swap their positions in a smooth maneuver, her back pinned to the twin sized mattress. She’d come upstairs to drown with the stranger today.

Everything was going according to plan. She would’ve never expected another visitor.

A throat cleared, neither of theirs. Startled, Elba couldn’t help but yelp and leap forward when a figure came into sight, sitting cross-legged in the Inn’s poor excuse of an armchair. Her forehead collided with his. Rather than questioning how in the world somebody had gotten into their room, the man jumped from the bed and scowled. His hands were held high in defense, as if she’d been the one to do anything wrong. “Quit freaking, would you? I’m out of here, dont’cha worry. Shoulda known better than to try it with the dead girl.” 

His insult was only caught by Dahlia, the elephant in the room, who chuckled darkly, “I don’t know how hauntings work, but he has made my list once it’s time.”

Elba hadn’t even known his name, in all honesty. He was gone as quickly as he’d come into her life when they kept meeting each other’s eyes across The Nightcap. Less than a half hour later, they were underneath covers at the seedy Inn upstairs. All in all, it was more worth it to cut to the chase than to discuss somebody not worth seeing again. Or, haunting?

All she could think to say, half shocked and half mortified, “What- What are you–”

“What am I doing here?” Dahlia’s expression softened and the elder woman moved from chair to the end of the mattress. It didn’t appear to be anymore comfortable, as she rubbed at the small of her achy back. Her eyes seemed to linger at Elba’s neck, the slash marks illuminated by even the dimmest light. “I don’t have much time. I must go soon.” Elba knew better than to interrupt. Dahlia had a way of reading the young wolf’s mind always and pressed on, with sincerity, “Let me speak. All will be clear soon, my girl.”

She continued. “The Greywinds have never stopped searching for you. Your parents returned to us, with a horrible tale of how you’d been taken and presumably murdered by vampires. You know my gut’s always correct, don’t you? Please, always follow your gut’s instinct. With time, your father broke down with the truth to each of us. Imagine my surprise when I learned they’d left you buried all the way out near the Elysian Sea. I already knew that your mother had taken your life, but I know something she does not yet. You are alive. I had expected you to flee here, however, as soon as you woke. You really should have, Elbs. Lori-Jane truly never told you anything of our kind, did she? I’m so ashamed to have never realized.” From the pocket of the cardigan, much out of place for the island’s weather, Dahlia produced an envelope. The chicken scratch on the face could only be one person’s. “Your questions will be answered within this. Your father says he loves you. Specifically, he said he loves you more than pineapple salsa, but I couldn’t, as a seventy-six year old woman, relay that message.” But she had and Elba was already a blubbering mess, the envelope of secrets clutched so dearly to her chest. “I’m sure he says so himself in that letter.”

Dahlia yearned to reach forward to comfort the girl who should have been her own. Touch was no longer that simple.

“Now, I don’t expect you to understand this. In fact, I beg you to brace yourself, I beg you to hold on to hope until you’ve read.” Dahlia waited for a confirmation nod. “I’m old, girl, and I’d been ill.”

“Are you…?” Elba interjected the moment Dahlia began speaking in past tense.

Dahlia’s reassuring smile did not waver and would never, “The new moon was our only chance to speak, but I won’t be gone forever.” Her eyes appeared glassy. She was proud. “It’s been everything to know of your survival. You have saved so many by existing, don’t you know this? She’s never told you, so allow me to.” The older wolf reached forward, touching her hands to Elba’s forearms. She pulled her in for a last, warm embrace. “Look for me in the Day. Love you sweetly.”

And then, Dahlia was gone, disappearing as warm and gracefully as she’d entered Elba’s life.

---

My greatest creation,

The Greywind clan is so scarce in size, because we have been outcast by other werewolf packs for nearly a century. Most forbid the mixing of bloods and now I understand why. They had warned us for years that a darkling would come of our hybrids. This was a myth I heard as a school boy from my grandparents. Because our people preached harmonious teachings, they believed if a demon-wolf were to finally be born, they would recognize true evil the moment they met its eye. But we know evil is not born, Elba, but created.

You can trace the lineage of druids and werewolves back to the exact moment we all became one. Only, in our bloodline, you are given the gift through sacrifice. For Lori, it is been nothing but a curse she has refused to relinquish. It is heartbreaking to reference your mother as a monster. She is Lori from now on to me. I know her to be a demon, because I have existed a prisoner of my own mind since seventeen. History threatened a repeat the moment she intended to do the same with you. My confronting of this head on led to your initial death. And mine, as well, because I have never recovered. I have only been allowed to feel grave sadness for decades. It is the only emotion I know to be true and I’m afraid it’s all I have taught to you. I pray this explains my never ending melancholy. I believe I would be happy, if she allowed me to. Charismatic, even. It is how I appear in dreams of us baking on summer eves.

She’s performed so many rituals to gain the strength she possesses. You exist as the only person to have been able to waver her intense focus.

Animals were sacrificed on our land and you breathed life into them again. You were merely ten. You have been speaking to entities since before then and Lori recognized the signs firsthand. You were to be stronger than she. The entities you encountered were those our people, crossing over from the Night, to Day. You have allowed them peace. All are nuances of the powers you were born to have. She has kept you from your true self. I cannot imagine how lost you feel. I was unsure of having a daughter and seeing her lose her mind inside of dark druidism, but I know you are incorruptible. You are special to all of us in Estero Bluffs. Too many futures depend on the demise of the demon-wolf. We will kill her.

We have an inkling of she may be hidden. Senior druids within our clan have the strength for the rare tracking spell. I am selfishly putting all of myself into this, at any cost necessary. I will have nothing to show for my time on Earth, if you are not rescued unscathed. Freedom will be upon us soon. Sit tight, patient girl. Once she is gone, I will arrive.

I love you always, forever, and soon.

“I don't know anything with certainty, but seeing the stars makes me dream.”

P.S. attached is our pineapple salsa recipe, had you forgotten:

2 cups diced fresh pineapple 1 cup diced red pepper 1/2 cup chopped cilantro (heaping) 1/4 cup finely chopped red onion 3 tablespoons finely chopped, roasted jalapeno pepper 1 clove garlic, minced Juice of 1 large lime Salt, to taste

#drabble* #june 2012 #july 2022 #child neglect tw #death tw #*

[automaticgardenflower]

Panos Ionnides: Gregory

Panos Ionnides 

Gregory

Translated by Marion Byron Raises and Catherine Raises

My hand was sweating as I held the pistol. The curve of the trigger was biting against my finger. 

Facing me, Gregory trembled.

His whole being was beseeching me. “Don’t!”

Only his mouth did not make a sound. His lips were squeezed tight. If it had been me, I would have screamed, shouted, cursed.

The soldiers were watching…

The day before, during a brief meeting, they had each given their opinions. “It’s tough luck, but it has to be done. We’ve got no choice.”

The order from Headquarters was clear: “As soon as Lieutenant Rafel’s execution is announced, the hostage Gregory is to be shot and his body must be hanged from a telegraph pole in the main street as an exemplary punishment.”

It was not the first time that I had to execute a hostage in this war. I had acquired experience, thanks to Headquarters which had kept entrusting me with these delicate assignments. Gregory’s case was precisely the sixth.

The first time, I remember, I vomited. The second time I got sick and had a headache for days. The third time I drank a bottle of rum. The fourth, just two glasses of beer. The fifth time I joked about it. “This little guy, with the big pop-eyes, won’t be much of a ghost!”

But why, dammit, when the day came did I have to start thinking that I’m not so tough after all? The thought had come at exactly the wrong time and spoiled all my disposition to do my duty.

You see, this Gregory was such a miserable little creature, such a puny thing, such a nobody, damn him.

That very morning, although he had heard over the loudspeakers that Rafel had been executed, he believed that we would spare his life because we had been eating together for so long.

“Those who eat from the same mess time and drink from the same water canteen,” he said, “remain good friends no matter what.”

And a lot more of the same sort of nonsense.

He was a silly fool—we had smelled that out the very first day Headquarters gave him to us. The sentry guarding him had got dead drunk and had dozed off. The rest of us with exit permits had gone from the barracks. When we came back, there was Gregory sitting by the sleeping sentry and thumbing through a magazine.

“Why didn’t you run away, Gregory?” We asked, laughing at him, several days later.

And he answered: “Where would I go in this freezing weather? I’m O.K: here.”

So we started teasing him.

“You’re dead right. The accommodations here are splendid…”

“It’s not so bad here,” he replied. “The barracks where I used to be are like a sieve. The wind blows in from every side…”

We asked him about his girl. He smiled.

“Maria is a wonderful person.” He was smiling when he told us. “Before I met her she was engaged to a no-good fellow, a pig. He gave her up for another girl. Then nobody in the village wanted to marry Maria. I didn’t miss much chance. So what if she is second-hand? Peasant ideas, my friend. She’s a beautiful and good-hearted girl. What more could I want in life? And didn’t she load me with watermelons and cucumbers every time I passed by her vegetable garden? She did all the work on it herself. Well, one day I stole some cucumbers and melons and watermelons and I took them to her. ‘Maria,’ I said, ‘from now on I’m going to take care of you.’ She started crying and then me, too. But ever since that day she has given me lots of trouble—jealousy. She wouldn’t let me go even to my mother’s without making a fuss. Until the day I was recruited, she wouldn’t let me go far from her apron strings. But I don’t mind. That was just what I wanted…”

He used to tell this story over and over, always with the same words, the same commonplace gestures. At the end he would have a good laugh and start gulping from his water jug.

His tongue was always wagging about something or other! When he started talking, nothing could stop him. We used to listen and nod our heads, not saying a word. But sometimes, as he was telling us about his mother and family problems, we couldn’t help to look at each other wondering, “Eh, well, these people have the same headaches in their country as we’ve got in ours.”

Strange, isn’t it!

Except for his talking too much, Gregory wasn’t a bad fellow. He was a marvelous cook, the very best I’ve found in a very long time. Once he made us some apple tarts, so delicious we licked the platter clean. And he could sew, too. He used to sew on all our buttons, patch our clothes, darn our socks, iron our ties, wash our clothes with care…

How the devil could you kill such a friend?

Even though his name was Gregory and some people on his side had killed one of ours, even though we had left wives and children to go to war against him and his kind—but how can I explain? He was our friend. He actually liked us! A few days before, hadn’t he killed with is own bare hands a scorpion that was climbing up my leg? That was the scare of my life! He could have let it send me to hell for all he cared! But no, not Gregory. He saved me. He risked himself to do that.

“Thanks, Gregory!” I said then to him. “I thank God who made you…”

When the order came, it was like a thunderbolt. Gregory was to be shot, it said, and hanged from a telegraph pole as an exemplary punishment. 

We got together inside the barracks. We sent Gregory to wash some underwear for us.

“It ain’t right.”

“What is right?”

“Our duty!”

“Shit!”

“If you dare, don’t do it! They’ll drag you to court-martial and then bang-bang yourself…”

Well, of course. The right thing is to save your own skin. That’s only logical. It’s either your own skin or his. His, of course, even if it was Gregory, the fellow you’ve been sharing the same plate with, eating with your fingers, and who was washing your dirty clothes from yesterday that very minute.

What could I do? That’s a war. We all had seen worse things.

So we set the hour.

We didn’t tell him anything when he came back from the washing. He slept peacefully. He snored for the last time. In the morning, he heard the news over the loudspeaker and he saw that we looked gloomy and he began to suspect that something was up. He tried talking to us, but he got no answers and then he stopped talking.

He just stood there and looked at us, stunned and lost…

Now, I’ll squeeze the trigger. A tiny bullet will rip through his chest. Maybe I’ll lose my sleep tonight but in the morning I’ll wake up alive.

Gregory seems to guess my thoughts. He puts out his hand and asks. “You’re kidding, friend! Aren’t you kidding!”

What a jackass! Doesn’t he deserve to be cut to pieces? What a thing to ask at such time. Your heart is about to burst and he’s asking if you’re kidding. How can a body be kidding about such a thing? Idiot!  This is no time for jokes. And you, if you’re such a fine friend, why don’t you make things easier for us? Help us kill you with fewer qualms? If you would get angry—curse our Virgin, our God—if you’d tried to escape if would have been much easier for us and for you. If you’d try to escape it would be much easier for everybody.

So it is now when it must happen.

Now, Mr Gregory, you are going to pay for your stupidities wholesale. Because you didn’t escape the day the sentry fell asleep; because you didn’t escape yesterday when we sent you all alone to the laundry—we did it on purpose, you idiot! Why didn’t you let me die from the sting of the scorpion?  

So now don’t complain. It’s all your fault, nitwit. Don’t dare to complain to me and look at me with lamb’s eyes.

Eh? What’s happening to him now?

Gregory is crying. Tears flood from his eyes and trickle down over his clean-shaven cheeks. He is turning his face and pressing his forehead against the wall. His back is shaking as he sobs. His hands cling, rigid and helpless, to the wall.

Now is my best chance, now that he knows there is no other solution and turns his face from us.

I squeeze the trigger.

Gregory jerks. His back stops shaking up and down.

I think I’ve finished him! How easy it is… But suddenly he starts crying out loud, his hands claw at the wall and try to pull it down. 

He screams. “No, no…”

I turn to the others. I expect them to nod. “That’s enough.”

They nod. “What are you waiting for?” one of them says. “All this noise is giving us headache.” I squeeze the trigger again.

The bullet smashed into his neck. A thick spray of blood spurts out.

Gregory turns. His eyes are all red. He lunges at me and starts punching me with his fists.

“I hate you, hate you…” he screams.

I emptied the barrel. He fell and grabbed my leg as if he wanted too hold on.

He died with a terrible spasm. His mouth was full of blood and so were my boots and socks.

We stood quietly, looking at him.

When we came to, we stooped and picked him up. His hands were frozen and wouldn’t let my legs go.

I still have their imprints, red and deep, as if made by a hot knife.

“We will hand him tonight,” the men said.

I turned and looked at them one by one. 

“Is that what you all want?” I asked.

They gave me no answer.

“Dig a grave now!” I said.

Headquarters did not ask for a report the next day or the day after. The top brass were sure that we had obeyed them and had left him swinging from a pole, as ordered.

They didn’t care to know what happened to that Gregory, alive or dead.

#short fiction #short stories #short story #translated literature

[anashins]

You’ve Always Hated Skinny Dipping (M) || Jaehyun

“Well, we aren’t exactly going to dip, you know. At least not you.”

When a heat wave lets you all suffer, Jaehyun wants to give you a refreshment that includes a public pool and a bikini all gone.

___

It was in the middle of a heat wave when you and your friends decided to attend an illegal party at a public swimming pool long after the sun had submerged beyond the horizon. People had brought their own loudspeakers and beverages, heaving them over the gates and then following themselves a few hours after closing time, turning the poolside into their own, small rave.

Even though it was already dark, the heat and stuffiness hadn't vanished along with it, and you were all still suffering a lot from the weather.

“Why is it still so hot?!” your friend Ten complained, sitting in his deckchair and fanning himself with his hat. “Nearly 40 degrees today? You gotta be kidding me! It’s not even that hot in Thailand now!”

“How about jumping into the water then?” Yangyang suggested, having his feet dangling in the pool. “Jaehyun did the right thing by disappearing as soon as he got here.”

“Look, Ten!” You sat next to Yangyang and dipped your fingers into the water. “Feel how refreshing that is!”

With a swift motion, you let it rain over Ten who then screamed like a scared cat that got thrown into a filled bathtub.

He then stared at you, challenging you, and you knew that if you wouldn’t disappear now, you’d land with your entire body in the water before you could say another word.

“If I were you, I’d beat a hasty retreat now!” Yangyang suggested with a laugh, and you were on your feet the next moment, running along the poolside to get as fast away from Ten as possible.

Since you were walking around, you could also look for your boyfriend who had wanted to jump into the water right away while you had decided to stay behind with your friends first. But now you were kind of longing to see him again.

Even though your eyes were scanning the heads and bodies sticking out of the water’s surface, you couldn’t find Jaehyun anywhere among the people who were swimming, playing ball or just chilling in the water.

By the very back of the area, there was another, smaller pool where not that many people stayed, but most of them were couples. As you were walking along the edge and observed them, you knew why they had retreated themselves to hide from the others:

Most of them wanted to make out in peace. And probably more.

You doubted your boyfriend was here, so you turned around on your heels to make your way back in hope that Ten had already calmed down.

But you let out a shriek shortly after as someone grabbed you by your ankle, quickly kicking the hand away just to find a wet Jaehyun in the pool with his arms folded over the edge, grinning at you mischievously.

“You scared me!” you let out breathlessly, but then smiled.

“Well, I did a good job choosing that bikini.” He licked his lips and scanned you all over in your white bikini. “You look so hot.”

You had been with Jaehyun long enough to know what it meant when he licked his lips in front of you: He was damn horny.

But before you could return anything, he put a finger on his lips and whispered, "Come in.”

You slowly submerged underwater until your feet touched the support step, gasping at first as the cold wave hit your bare skin and caused goosebumps all over your body. Even though it was so hot outside, the temperature contrast felt vivid on your skin.

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed you against his body to share his warmth with you, helping you adjust to the colder water. He kissed the side of your neck, and you chuckled as the gesture tickled you.

Half of his prominent chest was visible, glistening with water. The moonlight illuminated his milky skin so beautifully that you couldn't stop yourself from putting a hand on his collarbone and trailing it down, admiring every inch of his trained abs.

When you looked up, the light was reflecting in his eyes that were filled with lust, and it turned you on so much that you couldn't help but to interlace your fingers behind his neck and pull him down to kiss him passionately.

With his hands resting on your back, Jaehyun tilted his head and opened his lips, nibbling on your upper lip before he slid in his tongue. He slowly moved his hands down to either side of your hips, pulling the strings of your bikini bottom apart.

“Jaehyun...” you murmured in between kisses, “the others...”

You had never had sex in public before, because Jaehyun usually preferred the bed. But the heat probably got the both of you more adventurous as you didn’t instantly dismiss this idea.

Opening an eye, you perceived some others doing exactly what you and Jaehyun were about to do. Some of them were in certain positions, others only talking and laughing, minding their own business.

“Don’t worry,” Jaehyun explained calmly, “they’re all busy with themselves.”

With one last tug, the bottom part of your bikini was entirely gone, and you instinctively reached down in an attempt to cover yourself. Jaehyun followed your hands and grabbed your fingers, stretching them apart and pinning them on the edge of the pool.

“Naaa,” he growled and came closer, “you don’t need that anyway.”

“Jaehyun, you’ve always hated skinny dipping.”

“Well, we aren’t exactly going to dip, you know. At least not you.”

The lack of coverage between your legs was suddenly not important anymore as you felt his length twitching against your thighs, making you wetter than you already were. He let you go, knowing that you wouldn’t oppose now and opened your bikini top which, after untying, immediately floated away.

Jaehyun attacked your lips with hungry kisses, sliding a finger inside you and making you purr in surprise against his lips. Teasing your clit with his thumb, he made you fidget against his body, your legs twitching with every circling motion he made around your nub.

When he added another finger, you gasped for air and parted the kiss, bringing yourself up with your elbows and revealing your upper body almost fully. Jaehyun pulled his fingers out and held on each side of your waist, pulling you back into the water again.

Then, he submerged underwater himself. You were thinking about what he was planning on doing when you felt him biting your nipple softly, yet assertively. He rolled his tongue around your peaks, and you had no idea whether it was due to the water or something else, but the pleasure was so intense that you threw your head back, sunk deeper into the water and just looked up at the dark sky with half opened eyes while Jaehyun teased your breasts with kisses and licks.

Seconds later, he came back up and breathed for air, shaking his head to dry his hair while water still dripped from the tips and his face. His lips were slightly open and his eyes looked fierce, hungry - for you.

You plunged your hands into the water when you felt his cock by your hip again and stroked it slowly, causing Jaehyun to bite his lip and let out a quiet growl which made you grin. He grabbed the poolside and lowered his head, moaning quietly as you continued what you were doing, obviously turned on by the sounds he made.

Jaehyun lifted his head and brought your hips up by your bum. You held onto the edge for support, anticipating what would come next. Positioning himself at your entrance, he nudged against you, letting you sink on his member inch for inch with your thighs hooked around his waist.

You gasped in relief, your fingers grabbing the stony edge next to you so tightly that your knuckles nearly cramped.

“Move,” you then pleaded when he was all settled inside you.

Jaehyun did as you had told him, thrusting into you while muffling your moans with passionate kisses. He slid in and out more difficulty due to the water surrounding you which was why he had to be rougher, more deliberate.

In the beginning, his thrusts were long and unsteady, getting damped by the circumstances, only gaining speed and rhythm later on. Pleased after adjusting, you threw your head back in pure pleasure as his tongue licked on your neck and left imaginary hickeys on your sensitive skin while his fingers dug into your buttocks.

You purred at the sensation, scratching his head lightly and tangling your fingers in his hair after having moved to sit upright on his cock when he suddenly pulled out and commanded,

“Turn around.”

You shuffled until you were positioned with your back to Jaehyun, your arms crossed and propped against the poolside as you felt him pushing inside you from behind with your legs spread apart in a standing position. He pounded into you rhythmically right away, his one hand on your breasts and his other holding you firmly in position.

Jaehyun rested his head on your shoulder, letting you feel his erratic and irregular breaths, but by them, you knew that he was close as you spread your legs only wider for him to get better access. He bit your ear, and you inhaled sharply at the slight pain, turning your head to the side to let him capture your lips on the last meters.

But against the odds, you orgasmed before Jaehyun, parting from his mouth as he muffled the sounds that you wanted to make with his hands as your walls clenched around his length.

You kept your eyes shut in ecstasy, and he dragged you up to sit you on his angled thighs more comfortably, holding you steadily by your parted legs while you supported yourself on the poolside. Jaehyun pushed your body against the pool's tiles while he came only moments later, thrusting up and releasing himself inside you.

He let go of your limbs slowly, and when you felt the supportive step under your feet again, your legs were still shaking. Light kisses were thrown along the nape of your neck, and you smiled into the dimness.

“Well.” Jaehyun was the first one to raise his voice again. “That was a well deserved refreshment, right?”

You chuckled and faced him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. “That was worth fleeing from Ten’s anger.”

“Pardon me?”

“I’ll tell you later. But first…” You nodded with your chin into the pool. “Go dive for my bikini.”

#jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun smut #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct x you #nct x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x you #nct 127 smut #my writing #imagine #jeong jaehyun

[the-writing-mobster]

| @secretsantafrans 2021 | target: @themsource | AU: Underfell |

I drew ya some stuff and then wrote a Rom-Com for you because I'm super fucking extra. Almost didn't finish it in time, but baby we ALWAYS pull through!

———

We'll See — 

I basically wrote an entire Christmas Rom-Com for you. Enjoy!

AU: Underfell

❄❄❄

Oh the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful

“Cash or card?” 

And since we’ve no place to go; let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. 

Sans sighed and pulled out his wallet, thumbing through his cash and slapping it down at the counter. The music blaring from the intercom was rubbing him the wrong way. He believed he’d been force fed this song since November if it were possible. 

He watched as the clerk counted his money, nodded in satisfaction and put a protective hand on the shoe box; as if he’d grab it and run off. Trust me, if I wanted  to steal it, I would’ve and there would be nothing you could do about it. Sans blinked hard to dispel the thoughts and he grunted, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. 

“Christmas shopping?” 

The answer snapped out of him before he could even think to run it through a filter. “God no.” 

Their tired eyes stared back at him as his grin hardened into a weird grimace and he gave another nervous laugh to dispel any tension. He waved his finger up in the general direction of the loudspeakers and shrugged. “Tired of this music yet?” 

The clerk gave a forced, store bought laugh and shook their head. Not necessarily a no, but not a nod of agreement either… More like… a bobble head. Sans wanted to plant his hand on top of it and hold it still. 

“I mean, you kind of block it out,” they said dismissively. Sans rolled his eyes and waited as the receipt scanned through. 

He took the bag and stuffed the receipt inside as he escaped the FootLocker. 

The repetitive, commercial Christmas music, the crowds of people jostling him in the mall corridors, the screaming children taking pictures with some random old guy. Sans grimaced as he passed by the mall Santa sitting atop his throne of deception. 

The jingle of his ringtone alerted him and he picked it up. A text message from his brother… He stifled a groan. 

Are you seriously still ignoring me? Why do you always do that? 

He rolled his eyes. He didn’t have it in him to psychoanalyze himself, nor was he egotistical enough to try. 

I am expecting you at lunch today. We have much to discuss. You can’t avoid your family forever.

He growled and shoved his phone in his pocket. Just watch me. 

The only reason he’d refrained from teleporting out of there was that apparently, it freaked people out and Sans didn’t want to end up on a ban list. 

“I like your tooth!” Sans stopped short and looked down at a little kid. He glanced around awkwardly when he didn’t see any adults rushing to claim him, then tongued the golden canine and the crack it filled. He tried to forget how it got there. 

“Ah… yeah uh…” 

“Did the tooth fairy give it to you? I want a gold tooth.” More like I got punched in the face, but yeah, you could call that asshole the tooth fairy. 

“What’s that demon doing with that kid?” 

“Oh my God it’s a Reaper.” 

He could hear the whispering growing around him as more humans began to single him out. Sans laughed nervously. “Where’s your old lady, squirt?” 

The kid shrugged rather dopily which only served to annoy him further. Great. Now he was going to get banned. 

“Casey!” cried out a woman. Sans glanced over his shoulder. Bingo. He stepped away from Casey and tried to give a disarming smile that looked much more like a predator baring its teeth. 

She grabbed him and yanked him away, shooting Sans a withering glare before picking her son up and storming away. Sans narrowed his eyes. Well, if the Christmas rush hadn’t put him in a bad mood, being singled out in a human crowd for being a Reaper definitely sullied any chance he had at having a good day; nigh, a good week. 

As he stormed out through the revolving door, the sound of a bell rang sharply through his skull and he gritted his teeth. 

“Hey man! Spread some Christmas cheer and donate to the–” 

“–Go fuck yourself.” 

The man, also dressed as Santa, albeit he looked a bit cheaper than the mall santa counterpart, gave a scoff and shook his head. “Hey, fuck you hellspawn, it’s for a good cause.”

Sans meandered into the street side and flipped him off. “The salvation army is not a good cause,” he grumbled as he walked out into the parking lot and nonchalantly dodged his way through the throngs of cars and pedestrians until he was near the edge. He made his way behind a larger oak tree and sighed in relief. 

Finally. 

Maybe the go fuck yourself was a bit a unnecessary… “Nah. Fuck those guys.” He grinned smugly to himself, unable to help the shitty chuckle that escaped him. Crimson smoke poured out from his eyes, and swirled around him. By the time the smoke had dissipated, he was gone. 

❄❄❄

———

The rest is posted up on Archive of Our Own for your viewing pleasure!

I hope you have a Wonderful Christmas! 💖

#underfell #underfell frans #fanfic #underfell sans #underfell frisk #frans #frans secret santa #christmas 2021 #if it feels a little rushed I apologize #I literally procrastinated all month #wrote the entire thing in the span of one week to make the deadline #I really hope you enjoy it! #Merry Christmas!

[high-functioning-lokipath]

29 - Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

Lokisses Mini-Imagine Series

Lokisses Masterlist

"Okay everyone! Pick your pal for the day and enjoy yourself!" Tony called out to the group. He had treated the team to a day trip at the nearby amusement park. Everyone cheered, immediately pairing off. Loki jogged up to you, grinning from ear to ear.

"Shall we?" He asked, holding his hand out to you. You nodded and took his hand, running off to your first ride. Surprisingly, you found yourself simply enjoying the day without your mind constantly drifting off, well, Loki. He was your best friend, even flirting occasionally as a joke, but you'd never had the guts to tell him how you really felt. Since he'd never seriously told you anything that would imply his interest in you, you assumed he wasn't looking for a romantic relationship. At least you were friends.

The two of you had saved the biggest, scariest roller coaster for last. Walking up to it, you bit your lip nervously. "Well, it's definitely tall," You said. As the car took off, speeding down the track, you gulped. "And fast."

"It'll be fine!" Loki said confidently. You looked up at him and he smiled at you. You laughed suddenly and hugged him.

"You're scared too!" You exclaim. Loki hushes you immediately but his eyes give him away.

"Okay, fine, yes," he sighs, rubbing his brow. You smile softly at him and rub his arm.

"We don't have to ride it," You say. Loki shakes his head and stands up straighter.

"We'll do it," He says. "Together." You grin and take his hand, running up to the ride. Thankfully there wasn't much of a line and you got in quickly. Once buckled, you look at each other nervously and then it takes off. Both of you are screaming, holding the safety bar in a white knuckle grip. The ride slowed at the top of the tallest hill and then suddenly jerked to a stop. You held your breath for a moment, expecting it to suddenly drop, the stop having been planned to heighten the experience.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” The ride attendant announced through the loudspeaker. “We’re currently experiencing some technical difficulties with the ride. We ask that you please remain calm and stay in your seats. We will get you off as soon as possible. Thank you.”

“Oh my god,” You gasp. “We’re stuck.” You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the safety bar even tighter.

“Y/N, Y/N,” Loki says, touching your arm gently. “It’ll be okay.” You open your eyes slowly, staring at him. He smiles at you and holds an arm out. “C’mere,” He beckons. You slide over and tuck yourself into his side. He wraps his arm around you comfortingly. “I’ve got you,” He whispers. You stay in that position for a few minutes before Loki taps your arm again. “Look at this,” He says. You look up and see bright, colorful fireworks exploding above his palm. He moves his hand slightly and it becomes a tiny swarm of colorful butterflies. He brings his hand closer to his face, puckering his lips, and then blows on it, sending sparkles into the wind. You giggle softly and smile at him. He smiles back and you can't help but stare at his lips longingly. His tongue darts out over his lips and you unconsciously lean forward. You finally pull your gaze up to his eyes and are surprised to find the same expression mirrored in them. He leans into you, pulling you even closer, and finally kisses you. You hum softly, melting into his arms. He pulls away a few moments later, resting his head against yours.

"Wow," Is all you can say. Loki chuckles and kisses the tip of your nose.

"Wow?" He grins, causing you to blush furiously. He pecks your lips once more before sitting up to lean his head atop yours. "Be mine?" He asks quietly.

"I'm already your best friend," You reply, still doubting his true interest in you.

"I know, silly midgardian," Loki says, poking your side playfully. "I mean-well," He stuttered. "I mean more than that."

"Cat got your silvertongue?" You tease. Now it's his turn to blush. "You're serious? You want me to be your, uh, girlfriend I guess."

"That is the standard midgardian term I suppose," He smiled. "But I prefer 'my beloved'."

"Oh," You reply, smiling shyly. "I think I can work with that." Loki grins and kisses you again. Suddenly the ride jolts and the attendant speaks up again.

"Alright folks! We've got the roller coaster going again. Thank you for your patience and enjoy the ride!"

"Ready, love?" Loki asks you, taking your hand. You smile and nod.

"Ready!"

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#loki #lokisses #lokisses mini series #loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki friggason

[missymurphy1985]

The Revenge

Cillian and y/n had been together for 5 years, only these last few months he'd become seriously complacent and distant. Time for a wake up call.

Warnings - smut. This was a request from @being-worthy , I hope you like it!!

7pm. 7:15pm. 7:30pm. You kept glancing at your watch, the waiter bringing you another glass of wine as you sat, positively seething at the table. The third date night in a row he'd missed, and this was made you especially mad. Your anniversary meal. 5 years to the day since he asked you to be with him, properly be with him, after 2 months of being fuck buddies on the set of Peaky Blinders. You'd bagged the job of being his umbrella girl, so spent most of your time with him, and one thing had led to another after he'd invited you in for a game of cards and a bottle of Jameson's. Strip poker became your new favourite game.

You downed the wine, paid the bill and called a taxi back to your shared apartment. Walking in, he was nowhere to be found. Locking the door, seeing his keys still on the table in the hallway, you turned your phone off and went to bed.

"Sleep on the fucking porch, dickhead."

Waking up the following morning and turning on you phone to 17 missed calls and 7 voicemails, she smiled. Deleting all of them, she slipped one of his shirts on, and made her way downstairs to hear the front door being pounded. Smiling, you opened it to see Cillian stood there with a look of pure rage.

"Morning baby, have a good evening?" You opened it allowing him to enter.

"Where the fuck were you?? I've just spent the night sleeping in the fucking car y/n, why was your phone turned off?" He barged his way in, pushing past you to get to the toilet, his bladder screaming from inside him.

"Sleeping. Battery must have died. Shouldn't have left your house keys, should you?"

"Fucks sake... I'm going to bed." He stalked upstairs, not looking at you and went to bed. Now, you were really angry.

When he came back down a couple of hours later, he was still mad at you. Wouldn't say two words to you as you sat in the living room watching TV, coffee in hand. Into the kitchen he sulked, slamming cupboard doors to make his frustration clear to you. You just smiled.

You were showered now, but still wearing his shirt, buttons done low, exposing your cleavage, with no underwater underneath. You were determined now, plan in action, he was going to suffer for this. Walking into the kitchen, you opened the fridge to get some orange juice, bending completely Dr the waist, exposing your bare backside under the shirt. You felt his eyes on you, watching you, and inwardly grinned, though he couldn't see as your hips swayed slightly as you bent further to grab the juice at the bottom of the fridge. Standing back up, you turned to face him, shirt hanging off your shoulder now exposing almost down to your bare nipple, you straightened your body to drink from the carton, then bent again to place it back in the fridge. His eyes didn't leave your body once as he sat at the breakfast bar with a slice of toast.

"You mad at me, y/n?"

"Hmm? Why would I be made at you, now Cillian?" You smiled sweetly, noticing a small drop of juice on your finger, you licked it as seductively as possible, winked and left the room. Now he was confused... And hard. You smiled, knowing exactly what effect you'd had on him and went upstairs to get ready.

"I'm meeting Orla for lunch, I'll be back by 4." You called from the stairs.

"Tell my sister I said hello, yeah?"

"Maybe." You went upstairs to get dressed, within 20minutes you were out the door.

The following morning, you woke to find Cillian in his office downstairs on his laptop. You'd avoided him most of the previous evening, making him sleep in the guest bedroom. Sure to keep him out of the bedroom you shared, you'd locked your door.

Perking your nipples slightly to harden them, you stood at his office door.

"Hey... Um..." He glanced at you at the door and had to swallow a gasp. You winked at him, before making your way back upstairs. You heard him growl slightly, close his laptop and follow you. Sadly for him, you made your way into the bathroom, and locked the door. Bath time.

Sinking your body under the water, you could hear Cillian moving around upstairs, just outside the bathroom door.

"Y/n will you tell me what it is I'm supposed to have done wrong?" He paused outside the door knocking lightly.

"Mmm.... God this bath feels nice... Warm water on my skin... Fuck I needed this..." You moaned as seductively as possible, keeping your voice just loud enough so he could hear you.

"Y/n open the door... I can make that bath even better..." His voice deepened. This was working like a dream.

"Mm.... Don't you have another appointment with your agent Cillian?" He knew he was in trouble. You never called him by his full name, it was 'Cill', 'babe', but only Cillian when he'd pissed you off. Which he'd clearly done, but had no clue as to how.

Over the course of the following fortnight, you'd kept Cillian at bay, he was still sleeping in the guest room, your bedroom door remained locked overnight (he'd tried, you'd heard him, it was fucking hysterical) while you continued to seduce and tease him mercilessly. Orla had called to say he'd even tried calling her to find out what he'd done, but good as gold, she told him she had no idea what he was talking about.

Cillian had had enough at this point. He'd even tried getting himself off at night but he couldn't do it - his hands just weren't as good as yours, it wasn't the same. He genuinely thought his balls were going to explode, the tension inside him was driving him insane. He called his sister Orla again when you went out to do the food shop, desperate this time.

"Orla I need your help please, I'm your brother... Please? Surely she's told you what it is I'm supposed to have done wrong? All I did was go out with Adam for one night and she's barely spoken to me and hasn't TOUCHED me since!"

"Woah now, that's waaaay to much info for your sister to be hearing now!" She laughed at the other end of the phone, rolling her eyes. Y/n had done very well to keep this up for two whole weeks.. maybe it was time for some sisterly advice for her older brother.

"Cillian when did you go out? What date?"

"Few days after my birthday, so the 30th May I think, why?"

"No, it wasn't the 30th. Think again. Check your dates." He put his phone on loudspeaker and checked his calendar. Then it dawned on him. Oh fuck... Oh shit... Shit shit shit!!

"The 27th.. oh fuck Orla it was the 27th.. and I'm looking at the fucking calender entry for our date night saved as a fucking DRAFT!! I didn't set it properly... Oh fuck Orla I'm a dead man, how's she not killed me?"

"I think in a way she has Cillian!! You've got some serious making up to do - not like the first time it's happened now is it?" He groaned... This would be the hat trick. Three date nights missed because he couldn't work the fucking calendar app on his new phone properly.. but that excuse wasn't going to wash now, he'd had plenty of opportunity to sort his sorry ass out. And to miss their anniversary dinner? No. He'd make this right. He thanked his sister, ended the call and opened a different app on his phone. Operation Clemency was in motion.

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

You left your friends house on Friday afternoon to see Cillian's car parked outside. You could see bags on the back seat, him standing by the open passenger side door waiting for you.

"What are you doing Cillian?"

"Surprising my girlfriend. Listen y/n, I've been a fucking idiot okay? Missing our anniversary date, after missing two before that.. neglecting you, neglecting US... Let me make it up to you, yeah?" You couldn't help but smile, nodding your head you took his hand as he led you into the passenger seat, closing the door behind you.

All the way there you stole glances at one another, Cillian refusing to tell you exactly where you were going. You couldn't help the feeling of excitement - never in 5 years had he done anything like this, you'd have to make a habit of punishing him if this was the outcome..

Pulling up outside a large manor house an hour later, you gasped in shock.

"Shit.. Cill this is beautiful!"

"It's ours." You nearly had whiplash from the sudden head turn in his direction. "I bought it last month, I was waiting until your birthday next week to surprise you, but now seemed like a much better option. Welcome to our new holiday home baby." You couldn't help the tears forming in your eyes.

"Oh my god... But how? When? I don't understand!"

"All those appointments with my agent? Didn't you wonder why I wasn't getting any work from it all? I was at the bank sorting the mortgage for this place! Picked the keys up yesterday, it's fully furnished and ready for us. I figured we could spend the Summers here. Beach is less than a 5 minute walk away, the boys will love it." You were stunned. Well and truly stunned.

Leaving the car, you walked to the front door, Cillian handing you the keys. You opened it and walked inside into the most beautiful setting - it was newly decorated exactly to your liking. It was perfect. You turned to face him.

"You know, I might just forgive you after all..."

"Nope. Not yet. I'm not done." He smirked. "I want you to go upstairs - our room is second on the left. Lay down on the bed and I'll be up in 15 minutes." Raising an eyebrow, you complied, walking up the stairs eagerly anticipating what he had planned. "Fully clothed y/n... Don't remove a damn thing."

You walked in to find a large double bed with fresh sheets, covered in rose petals. Candles lined most of the hard surfaces in the room. It brought a lump to your throat. A fresh bouquet of flowers on the chest of drawers under the window, with a small envelope under them, your name written in Cillians hand writing. You opened it to find a two tickets to the new Enda Walsh play showing at the Gaiety later that week - it was sold out and you remembered telling him you were disappointed to miss it, but when you're Cillian Murphy, sold out meant nothing.

Hearing him coming up the stairs you quickly lay down on top of dozens of rose petals on the bed. He walked in slowly, casting an eye over your body. This would be the hardest thing to do now, trying to control himself, but he was determined to make this last as long as possible. Moving to the old record player in the corner of the room, he turned it on, allowing the gentle sounds of the music to fill the room softly. Making his way over to you, he kneeled on the bed, eyes never leaving yours.

"You're not to move unless I tell you to, okay? Just relax. Sit up." You sat up as he lifted your t shirt over your head, swiftly followed by your bra. Pushing you back down and turning you onto your front, he carefully sat himself across your legs, opening a small bottle of something you couldn't see. Suddenly his hands were on your back, smoothing the oil into your skin, putting pressure all over it. Closing your eyes, you relaxed into the massage as he skilfully eased away as many knots as he could find in your slender muscles.

"Fuck... Cill that feels amazing... Don't stop, please..." He bit his lip, he could feel his erection forming under his jeans and willed himself to have self control. Two weeks without touching you was a long time...

He moved his hands lower, teasing the waistband of your jeans as he moved his body down, pulling them over your hips, underwear following. Now you were completely bare, his hands now expertly rubbing hard circles over your thighs, your calves, then your feet. Your core was burning now, his touch, even after 5 years, doing things to your body you still couldn't believe we're possible. Your hips twitched slightly with the throbbing feeling you couldn't ignore deep in your groin. He could almost smell it, the need in you. Smiling, his hands moved back up your legs, dipping between your thighs and moving closer to where you desperately needed him. He grinned, and teased his fingers closer, then pulled them away. Back over your firm cheeks, up your spine slowly. You groaned, you were positively on fire now.

"Patience..." You bit your lip as he whispered in your ear. He turned you onto your back, now running his hands over your belly as he moved back to hover over your waist. Hands moving higher, he kneaded your breasts, knowing it would drive you crazy.

"Ahh... Fuck Cill... Baby please..." He chuckled, this was more fun than he anticipated, why had he never thought of this before?

Leaning down, he trailed a line of kisses long your exposed neck, your head flung back as he continued his assault on your breasts. Nipping the skin, sucking lightly, you arched against him. You felt close to an orgasm already and he hadn't even got to the good part yet. Your breath coming out in short bursts as his lips moved lower over your collarbone.

"Feel good baby? Feeling close huh? Keep those noises coming, fuck you're turning me on right now..." His voice was intoxicating, his hands roaming, now his lips, you couldn't stop the heat rising in your belly, that familiar knot forming, how was this even possible? You didn't care, and you couldn't stop it - you came hard, bucking your hips up to meet his as it overtook you.

"Fuck... Baby oh my god...." You came down from your high and looked into his eyes, now darker and desperate. He was trying so hard to control it but the control had gone. He hadn't expected you to cum from this alone, clearly he wasn't the only one who'd gone without these last 2 weeks.

"Take them off." He didn't argue. His clothes were removed quick as lightening as he opened your still quivering legs. He quickly pushed himself inside and stopped, just enjoying the feeling of your core swallowing him again.

"Jesus.. I swear you got tighter..." You raised your hands to his face and glared at him.

"Shut up, and fuck me Mr Murphy." With pleasure, he thought to himself, as he pounded into you hard and fast, both of you groaning into each others mouths as you kissed hungrily, desperate to get as physically close as possible. You rolled him onto his back, keeping him inside you, as you leaned back and rode him hard. You moved his hands to hold onto the bed frame behind him.

"You've touched me enough, it's my turn." Your hands roamed over your own breasts now, hips still rocking against his, your second orgasm fast approaching. You knew, after 2 weeks of abstinence, he wouldn't last long and you were right.

"Baby.. slow down.. I can't... Oh fuck... Ah... Feels too good..." He was raising his hips to meet yours, you felt your orgasm taking over.

"Cum baby... Need to feel you... Fill me up... Drown in me..." He couldn't hold back any longer and with a final, hard groan he came, filling you. His hands came to rest at your frozen hips, he felt your walls clench around him as you came alongside him, both of you breathing heavily as you came back down to earth from the most exquisite high either of you had ever had. Leaning your body back down to kiss his lips, you gave him one more squeeze of your walls, emitting a twitch and a gasp from him, before collapsing next to him.

"Fuck... My god Cill, I'm gonna have to punish you like this more often..."

"The fuck you are y/n, never again are we going more than 24 hours without sex, ever.. I don't care how mad you are at me.." you both laughed, curling up in each others arms, Cillian whispering how sorry he was in your ear, how much he loved you, as you gently fell asleep.

The following morning you woke to an empty bed, but you could smell coffee and breakfast being prepared downstairs. You made your way down wearing just his T shirt from the day before and found a full breakfast waiting for you. Sausages, eggs, bacon, toast, juice, croissants... All there on the countertop. A plate, cutlery and a coffee waiting for you.

"Just missing the pinny Mr Murphy..." You giggled as he turned and stuck his tongue out at you cheekily.

"Eat up and get dressed y/n, I'm taking you for a walk this morning." Smiling, you ate, and an hour later you were stood on the beautiful golden sands of the beach 5minutes from your new holiday home. Watching the waves crash, you were the happiest you'd felt in a long time. You heard Cillian behind you.

"Turn around, y/n." As you did, he took your hands in his and kissed your lips.

"If I have to spend every single day for the rest of my life saying how sorry I am, I will. If I have to spend every second making it up to you, I will. You have completed my life y/n.. after my divorce, I didn't think I'd ever be lucky enough to find love again. Then you came along and everything slotted into place. My boys adore you.. their Dad couldn't live without you.. y/n..." He sank down to the ground, reaching into his jeans pocket. Bringing a small, velvet box back up to you, your breath caught in your throat, tears already in your eyes.

"Make me the luckiest man in the world y/n.. marry me?" You fell to the floor alongside him, tears openly falling now as you cried, pulling him close, kissing him softly.

"Yes!! Oh my god a million times over, yes I'll marry you!!" You both grinned, standing now as he held out your left hand, slipping the simple, white gold band and diamond onto your finger. Nothing else mattering in that moment apart from the dreams you both shared of the amazing future you had ahead of you.

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @being-worthy @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x smut #cillian murphy

[panda-noosh]

something gained {george weasley x reader}

  words: 13.8k

  summary: you’re a beater on the slytherin quidditch team, so naturally, george weasley is your worst enemy.

   genre: fluff

   notes: masterlist - ask me about commissions! - enjoy my good pals. 

----

  the crowds are loud this morning.

   much too loud for a nine am rise, in your opinion, though you appreciate their enthusiasm. the bellows echo through the changing rooms, rattling the walls, poking at your nerves like a teenager prodding a zit.

    you sit on the floor, your back against the wall. around you, your team buzzes, making battle plans to defeat gryffindor, but you can barely hear them over the paired chorus of the chants outside and your own heartbeat. sweat rushes to your palms, and you gingerly wipe them on your quidditch gear.

    “we’ve got this one in the bag,” marcus flint says for what must be the seventeenth time since you first laid eyes on him this morning. “they’re not getting away this time. if we have to get violent, we will.”

   “and start the season off with a disqualification?” you pipe up. “wonderful game plan. very well thought out.”

    “it’s you who needs to listen up the most, l/n. you’re a beater - i want to see you causing damage.”

   you roll your eyes. “i cause damage every bloody game, flint. you don’t have to tell me how to do my job.”

    flint’s lips curl into a frown, his dark eyes glaring at you. you refuse to meet them, instead picking up your beaters bat from the side and getting to your feet.

    “the match starts in two minutes,” you point out. “are we gonna keep talking shit or are we gonna get out there and beat gryffindor?”

    much to flint’s dismay, it’s your tiny little speech that seems to get the slytherins riled up. they cheer, stampeding from the changing rooms, each giving you a warm clap on the shoulder on their way past. flint stays behind, glaring daggers into your head.

   you nod at the open door. “after you, captain.”

    and so, despite the hidden rivalry you and flint have with each other, you walk out onto the quiddich pitch together. the cold air immediately sets you off, a feeling of dread settling in the pits of your stomach; it’s always been easier to play in the warm weather, when the risk of rain is minuscule and you don’t have to worry about obtrusion's. now, however, the sky is overcast and threatening. frost coats the grass beneath your feet. you have to rub your hands together to bring feeling back into them.

    the gryffindors are already there, as you expected. oliver wood stands tall in the centre of the field, his team crowded around him. they all look so confident, a feat the slytherin team have yet to master; your people walk onto the field with heads held high and shoulders drawn back, but the tension between them is always so tremendously obvious that it takes away from the confident aura they’re always trying to convey. it’s not something you’ve ever tried to fix, because there’s only so much you can do.

   you and marcus wade to the centre of the field, giving each other a brief nod before taking your places, marcus right in front of oliver, and you stood by his left shoulder. 

    madame hooch addresses the two captains, ordering them to shake hands before the game begins. as soon as she blows her whistle, you kick off and soar into the air.

   the cold is immediately a disadvantage. it whips at your cheeks and claws at your throat until your eyes are watering, definitely not a good thing when you have to keep an eye out for a two ton flying ball coming right for you.

   you do what you’ve always done, though, and fight through it, blinking the tears away at any moment you are given. as the match progresses, however, those moments get few and far between, the tension rising between the two teams.

    you stop paying attention to the score board, because you have to. already your mind is racing, focusing on a million different things at once. you have to keep an eye on all the gryffindor players, make sure you know where they are so you can knock them from their brooms - and you do. with the skills of a world cup player, you pummel the gryffindor players into the ground one by one, repeating the process when they clamber back onto their brooms.

    “doing well, l/n!” flint cries, whizzing past you at lightening speed. you give him a thumbs up, distracted for only a second, but it’s a second too long.

   you know of the weasley brothers, the beaters on the gryffindor team. they’re good. they come from a family of decent quidditch players, and their childhood training shows through. you’ve played them a handful of times, and they’ve always been equal competition.

    they take your distraction as an opportunity.

    the bludger is whizzing towards you before you can even drop your hand back to your brooms handle. you hear it, the screech as it races in your direction. you cry, slamming your hands into the front of your broom in any attempt to do a downwards dodge, but the bludger catches the rear end of your broom and sends you spiralling towards the ground. 

    your feet slam into the mud and you stumble. pain spears through your ankles and legs, making you whimper, but the anger and determination chases the feelings away, increased only when lee jordan calls out, “gryffindor scores!” over the loudspeaker. 

    you growl, low in your throat, and remount your broom. you kick off with renewed vigour, heading straight for the weasley twins. they circle the pitch, darting to and fro with a synchronisation you and the other slytherin beater could never emulate. it makes you mad. it makes you so, so mad, because this is a competition, and how are you ever meant to win a competition if your team won’t even cooperate? 

    “oi! goyle!” you yell.

    goyle spins in midair, scowling the minute he meets your eyes. “what the hell do you want? we’re in the middle of a match!”

    “i want you to do your fucking job!” and just to demonstrate your point, you slam your bat into a bludger heading right for goyle’s distracted mug.

   he whirls back around, gets ready to scream at you, but you’re already whizzing towards the centre of the pitch. the crowd is louder than ever now, but you have to ignore them, you have to keep going, you have to do some damage, just like flint told you back in the changing rooms. 

   your arms ache. your ankles throb. your fingers are numb, wrapped around the handle of your broom, but you push past all of it. you become a monster, unrestrained as you chase after the bludgers, catching them with your bat, speeding them at gryffindor flyers with a ferocity you have never before showed in a match. 

     one of the bludgers smacks george weasley right in the face. you hear his nose crunch from halfway across the pitch.

    you punch the air. “take that, asshole! woo!”

    the game continues, brutal by the end of it. your nose bleeds when oliver wood catches you with his arm; you get a free hit for the penalty, though, so you’re not even mad. george weasley’s own nose is broken, dribbling blood throughout the remainder of the match. multiple players have nose-dived into the grass.

   but at the fifty minute mark, lee jordan has to grudgingly call out, “draco malfoy has the snitch, the little pest-”

    and that’s the game over. a win for slytherin - first win of the season.

    you zip to the floor to an immediate group hug. it’s uncomfortable, with none of the slytherin players really knowing how to handle affection, but your own excitement chases away the awkwardness. you bundle draco into your chest, one hand in his hair, the other shoved in the air in a pose of victory that the gryffindors scowl at.

   you meet the eyes of george weasley. he cups his nose in one hand, holding his broom in the other, and never before have you seen such malice in someone’s expression. it sends excitement coursing through you. you give him a grin, a sarcastic little wave. he scowls, turns on his heel, and follows his retreating team back to the changing rooms, where they can wallow in their loss for the rest of eternity for all you care.

    ---

    in all your years at hogwarts, never before have you seen the gryffindors and the slytherins more hostile towards each other than they are after the match.

    you tend to stay out of house confrontations. you don’t see the point in them; you’ll play a little dirty during a quidditch match, but you won’t be caught dead sneering at any other houses on your days off. it’s pointless. it’s a quick way to get into some not needed trouble.

    but things are being taken a little too far now, and you’re struggling to keep your nose out of it.

    everywhere you go, a gryffindor has something to say. a puny little first year will yell insults at you as you walk to class. a third year will throw something at you in the dining hall. fellow fifth years will make it their life’s work to make your days a collage of living hells, just because your team managed to beat theirs during a quidditch match.

    “it’s getting quite ridiculous now,” you say into the fire, the head of your father bobbing up and down within the flames. “the match was a week ago, and the gryffindors still haven’t got over it.”

    “so quidditch is still as competitive as it was back in my day then, eh?” your father says, before breaking into a fit of coughing that you have learned to ignore over the years; he hates it when you bring up his peaked appearance, or the way his eyes sometimes roll into the back of his head without warning.

    “i suppose so,” you mumble. “i don’t know what they want me to tell them; i’m just the beater, for christs sake.”

   “hey,” your dad scolds. “everyone in a quidditch team is important.”

   “yeah, but i’m not the one who handed their arse to them on a plate, am i?”

   “you helped with the process.” your dad smiles, tilting his head a little bit; he looks at you like this sometimes, like you’re holding the world in your hands. you suppose it comes with you being his only child, his last remaining family. he is yours, as well, though neither of you ever talk about it. 

   after your mother died, it was just the two of you. at ten years old, you were too young to do much in terms of helping, but then you aged and got your acceptance letter to hogwarts, and for a long time, you were fully prepared to ignore it, pretend you never received it and get on with the faux muggle life you had been trying to settle into these last few years. however, your father has always been a smart man, and even after he started getting sick, he was always telling you to go ahead and do it - go to hogwarts like you were supposed to, like you had always dreamed. 

   and now here you are, miserable.

    “i miss you,” you say when the silence gets too much. you can hear his heart monitor over the crackling flames, and it puts you on edge. “how are things at home?”

   “oh, the usual,” he replies. “days are boring without you, love, but i’m cheering you on. you’re making me so proud.”

   you smile. “i try, dad, i try.”

    “well-”

   before your father can finish his sentence, however, the door to the slytherin common room bursts open. a group of three stampede into the centre - draco, goyle, and crabbe.

   you frown. “do you lot not see i’m a bit busy?”

    draco spins. his hair stands on end, and black soot covers his face. his eyes are startled but wide with a fury you have seen far too often on the young boys face - it still makes you snicker.

    your dad sighs. “i suppose i should let you handle this.”

   “talk to you later, dad.”

   his face disappears up the chimney, leaving you alone with the three panting boys.

   you stand, wiping your hands on your robes. “what happened to you?”

   “those bloody weasleys!” draco exclaims. “oh, i’ll get them. i’ll get them back, i swear to it!”

   you raise a brow. “the weasleys? you’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

   “well, who else?” draco gestures to his soot-stained face. “them filthy twins think they’re soooo funny with their little jokes, but wait till my father hears about this! they’ll be out of this school before they can even blink!”    

   you raise a brow. “is this about the fucking quidditch match?”

    “yes,” draco snaps. you can see the tethers breaking away, his temper rising as he trails his fingers through his hair, breathes heavily through gritted teeth. “of course it’s about the bloody quidditch match. them gryffindors wouldn’t know fair play if it hit them in the face; they just can’t accept that the better team won.”

    you bite your lower lip. it’s been days of this exact same behaviour, these childish pranks just because the gryffindors are mad that the slytherins finally had a taste of victory.

   it makes you mad.

   you curl your fingers into your palm, gazing down at the three younger boys as they pace back and forth, treading ash in their wake. you’ve never been overly fond of crabbe and goyle, but you’ve always looked out for draco - call it an older sibling kind of thing, but you’re always the one sitting next to him when he has something to rant about, always the one rolling your eyes and putting him in his place, because you’re the only person in the world he will actually listen to.

   your protective instincts flare up before you have a chance to stuff them back down again. 

    “i think i need to have a chat with the weasley twins,” you say.

   draco’s head snaps around. “what?”

    but you’re already grabbing your cloak, dragging it over your pyjamas. 

    “y/n, what are you even going to say to them?” draco demands. when you don’t respond, he groans and grabs your arm. “if they do anything-”

    “they’re not gonna murder me, draco.” you shake him off, offering a warm smile. “i might murder them, though. we’ll have to see.”

    draco doesn’t argue. he watches you go, open mouthed and exhausted. you crawl out of the slytherin common room and into the hallways, thankful that curfew has yet to appear - you can march through these corridors with as much anger radiating off of you as possible, and filch can’t say a damn thing.

   that’s exactly what you do, because your fury only builds the longer you walk. it’s one thing for you to be harassed in the corridors by angry gryffindors; you’re a fifth year, and you’ve been through this many times. it’s a completely different thing to go after draco.

   and you understand, of course, that draco malfoy is hardly someone who needs to be protected, covered in bubble wrap for fear of shattering. he’s a little shit, and you’ll admit that as soon as the next guy.

   but he’s like a little brother to you in the sense that he was the only person in the world who knows about your fathers illness, and he hasn’t told a single soul.

    you round the corner, and that’s when you see him. it’s one of the rare occasions the weasley twins aren’t joined at the hip, because as far as you can tell, fred is nowhere in sight. george stands - alone - at the top of the stairs, waving goodnight to a group of gryffindor girls. there’s a slight red tinge to his cheeks, like he’s been running through wind, and you hate how adorable it looks.

   you push aside this thought, replacing it with the anger settled in your system. you march right up to him, grab his arm, and shove him up against the wall with the strength built from years of being quidditch beater.

    he stumbles, eyes widening a fraction before he realises what’s happening. his hand doesn’t even stray to his wand when he sees you, which just makes you mad; you want him to put up a fight. you want him to do something, anything that gives you an excuse to draw back and punch him in the nose. 

    “l/n,” he sneers instead. “what a pleasant surprise!”

    “you really are a piece of shit. you know that, right?”

    he laughs. it’s so jovial, so easy.

   you hate it.

    you shove his chest, willing his attention back to you. “i’m being serious! why can’t you and the rest of your slimy gryffindors just accept the fact that you lost? just because you’ve been lucky with potter on your team, doesn’t mean you’re exempt from losing.” you lean forward. “which, just to remind you, is what happened - you fucking lost, so suck it up and deal with it.”

    george blinks. that stupid grin is still on his face when he says, “christ, y/n, i haven’t even said hello yet!”

   you groan, stepping away from him to trail your hands through your hair.

   george points, squinting one eye in your direction. “draco does that all the time. is it a slytherin thing?”

    “what’s your obsession with draco?” you spit. 

   “he’s a tit. never leaves my brother alone, so he doesn’t.”

   “and is ron not capable of fighting his own battles?”

   george scoffs. “oh, he is, but being the amazing big brother that i am, i like to take the burden off him sometimes.”

   you scowl. george grins.

    “pathetic,” you grumble. “all of you. absolutely pathetic. when the next quidditch match comes around, you’ll be forgetting all about this one.”

   “ah, but the slytherin’s won’t, will they? you lot will be basking in your only victory in three years for as long as you can.”

    you growl, lunging for him. george laughs, placing his large hands on your shoulders to keep you at arms length, and you’re honestly not even sure what it is you plan on doing - scratching his eyes out? punching him in the face? some muggle fighting tactics you don’t understand?    

    “this is adorable,” george comments, casting a glance over his shoulder to where a painting of Sir Edmund Christo hangs behind him. “isn’t this adorable, Christo?”

    you groan, step away from him, shocked at how angry he can make you in such little time. his eyes glint in amusement as he stuffs his hands back into his robes and says, “finished?”

    “go to hell, george weasley,” you spit.

   his eyes pop open. “oh, look at that! you can tell me and fred apart!” 

    “leave draco alone,” you growl. “or next time i’ll put my hexes to good use.”

    ---

   the threat was idle. you weren’t actually going to hex george, or any of the gryffindors for that matter. you love draco dearly, but risking expulsion for him was not something you were willing to do.

    nonetheless, george seems to take your threat seriously, as he leaves draco - and the rest of the slytherin quidditch team - to their own devices. at one point, you even notice him telling ron to stop glaring over at your dinner table, and ron actually listened.

    “this might be the first time in hogwarts history the slytherin and gryffindors haven’t been at each others throats constantly,” says blaise, taking a seat next to you.

    draco scowls, still glaring over at the gryffindors despite your previous scoldings. “it’s weird. i don’t like it. they’ve got something planned.”

    “okay edge lord,” you grumble through a mouthful of yorkshire pudding. “this is literally why we can’t have nice things; you ruin it with your pessimism.”

   “coming from you, that means nothing.”

   you slap the back of his head. draco swats your hand away.

    “look, we don’t have to worry about the gryffindors any more,” you continue. “it was one quidditch match - they can’t hold a grudge forever.”

    “quidditch is a serious game,” blaise says through a snicker, because he’s never understood the fascination, no matter how many hours you and draco spend explaining it to him.

       “serious, but not enough to start a bloody house war.” you tap draco’s hand. “now stop staring and eat your roasties; you’re starting to look desperate.”

   draco scowls, but prods his fork into a roastie nonetheless.

    but now your attention is caught, no matter how much you want to forget all of it. the gryffindors aren’t worth your time and attention. they’ve done nothing but make your life a living hell these past few days - most of your hogwarts experience, actually - so why give them even the tiniest bit of your attention?

    you glance over to the gryffindor table. george is already looking at you.

   it’s reflex when you scowl. your eyes meet his, and you remember the night before when he was laughing, teasing you for your anger, and with those memories comes a surge of fresh anger, all pointed directly at him. you wonder if he feels the same, if he perhaps shielded his own frustration with humour; you don’t know an awful lot about the weasley twins, but from what you have gathered, that seems to be a common theme. they play pranks, and they tease people, and deep down, they are most likely dying inside.

    dying because they lost a fucking quidditch match.

    you look away when george sends you a grin. “idiot.”

   draco looks at you. “huh?”

    “nothing.” you stand, brushing your hands down your robes. your dinner was finished a long time ago; you were only staying seated to make sure draco didn’t throw himself into further conflict - not after you smoothed things out the night before. “i’m off to the library for a bit. you-” you poke draco in the cheek. “stay out of trouble, alright?”

    draco stares after you; he knows what off the library really means, and you appreciate that he isn’t blabbering the truth to the entire table. you give him one final smile before walking off, heading straight for the slytherin common room.

   it’s empty when you clamber inside. slytherin’s don’t spend an awful lot of time in the common room - that means socialising with one another, sharing pleasantries, and none of you are particularly fond of that kind of thing. you don’t mind, hating the faux pleasantries yourself, but it also gives you free rein to use the fireplace whenever you please.

  you sit on your knees and pull your wand out. it takes a bit of memory power before you can utter the spell your dad has illegally been trying to teach you since you left for your fifth year at hogwarts, but you eventually manage it. your body shrinks - at least, that’s what it feels like - and before long, heat is clawing at your face, and you’re staring into the family living room.

   what used to be the family living room. now, it’s empty besides your dad, curled up in the arm chair, watching the muggle news. he doesn’t notice you at first, giving you the time to analyse his form without him putting on a brave face. 

    he looks sick.

   very, very sick.

    you swallow thickly. his hair is thinner today than it was yesterday, if such a thing is even possible. his baby bird bones are tangled upon the arm chair, covered by an exceptionally thin blanket that makes you hope with every fibre of your being that he has the heating installed, running at full blast. his lips are chapped, and his eyes are bruised from lack of sleep, and just seconds before he turns to see your head bobbing in the fireplace, he coughs blood into a light blue handkerchief.

    his eyes widen when he spots you. he quickly shoves the handkerchief into his back pocket, stumbles from his arm chair and drops to his knees by the fire.

   “y/n!” he exclaims. “goodness, you could have made a little bit of noise. i didn’t even notice you!”

    “hi dad,” you reply quietly. “how are you?” 

    “very well.” he grins, grabbing the thin blanket you suddenly despise. “i’ve been crocheting, finished this a few nights ago. i was thinking of sending it to you, but the owl isn’t back yet, so you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

   you force a smile on your face. it must be a family trait, all these forced smiles. “that’s great, dad. you’re getting good at those.”

    “yes, well, i’ve got a lot of time on my hands now that i’m not running after you.” he scowls, but it lasts only a second before his expression breaks into a grin. “but enough about me; how are things with you? hogwarts treating you good? are those kids still giving you a hard time?”

   “dad, we spoke yesterday. how much do you think has changed?”

   he waves a dismissive hand, dropping his chin upon a shelf made by his interlocking fingers. “each day is a chance for new experiences, my dear.”

    “i nearly got in a fight with one of the beaters from the gryffindor team.”

   your dads eyes widen. “love, what have i said about using violence as a way to solve problems?”

    “i said nearly!” you exclaim, folding your arms across your chest, and even though he can’t see your arms, you know for a fact he is imagining you in this very stance, so familiar from your childhood. “he’s a real pain in the arse, dad, you don’t even understand. he winds me up something shocking.”

   “who is this boy anyway?”

   “one of the weasleys,” you grumble. “george.”

   your dads eyes pop open. for a brief moment, there is a flicker of life back in his body, startling you. “a weasley? goodness, y/n, i remember that family well! molly and arthur were in my year at school!”

    “yeah, well, george and fred are in my year at school, and they’re a set of bastards.”

    your dad chuckles, because that’s what he does when you get like this; he laughs, and he shakes his head, and he pretends you have the potential to be a Hufflepuff, just like he was back at hogwarts. 

    “i’ve never met them personally,” he says. “but i’ve never met a bad weasley in my life; some could be a bit overbearing, but they always had good intentions, and i think that’s what matters.”

    “i don’t think george has ever had a good intention in his life.” you slump forward, propping your chin on your palm. “all he cares about is quidditch and making people’s lives a living hell.”

    your dad frowns. “oh, love, i don’t think that’s true. i think you’re just angry at him. what did he actually do?”

    “he’s been tormenting draco since the quidditch match.”

   “is draco your little successor?”

   you scowl. “draco’s a little shit, and i’ll be the first to admit that, but george and fred are just taking the piss now. the match was a week ago. they need to get over themselves.”

    he hums in response, looking thoughtfully into the fire. “well, i hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’re quite competitive when it comes to quidditch, too.” 

    “not that competitive. i’m not a sore loser, that’s for sure.”

    “listen, i’ve never been an avid quidditch player, so i don’t know what it feels like getting sucked into that environment, but i’ve seen you get into some pretty deep dramatics over it. maybe george is just doing the same thing.” he shrugs. “nobody likes losing.”

   you scowl; sometimes you hate your dads ability to make sense, to explain every situation like it’s the worlds fucking philosophy. huffing, you cross your arms and lean your head upon them, staring at your dad with a disproved expression.

    he meets your gaze and laughs, raising his hands in faux surrender. “i’m just saying, love. i’m happy you’re sticking up for draco - god knows that boy needs a friend - but i don’t want to be receiving any owls from your teachers informing me about your expulsion because you’ve got in some fight with a boy in your year.”

     “i can’t make any promises on that, dad.”

    he rolls his eyes, no malice in the action. “whatever. just be a little wise, alright? you’ve got exams coming up, and i don’t want you flunking over something like this.”

    the mention of exams makes your stomach churn; through all the drama taking place these past few days, you had forgotten all about the end of term exams, approaching much quicker than you’re prepared for.

    dad smiles, as if reading your expression. “you’ll do great, love. i know you will.” he glances over his shoulder, spots the clock hung on the wall before turning back to you. “you should get going. it’s getting late.”

    you raise a brow. “will you be alright on your own?”

    “i’ve been on my own for a while now, sweetheart - i’ll be fine.” he smiles, blows you a kiss before swiping his arms through the fires flames, sending you back to the common room before you can even blink.

   ----

    christmas settles amongst the hogwarts students, and exams are dangerously close.

   quidditch must be set to the back burner, a fact that leaves you slightly depressed as you wade through what feels like a hundred hours of classes you have no interest in. revision piles up around you, leaving with you very little sleep and very little patience.

   call it a slytherin thing, but the desperate need to succeed has overtaken your entire being these past few weeks. you haven’t even spared george weasley - or any of the gryffindors - a glance, too absorbed in spell books to pay attention to their continued jeers. 

    george doesn’t go near you.

   you find it weird, of course, but that tiny voice in the back of your head scolds you any time you think too deep into it. you have to remain focused on exams, and exams only, because you have not left your dying father on his own for so long just to come home with no O.W.L’s. you have to succeed for his sake, to show him these difficult few years have not been for nothing.

   you’re in the library with draco on this particular day. outside the high windows, snow drifts pleasantly from the sky, and you can imagine the quidditch pitch in that moment, beautifully blanketed with little snowflakes that you will have no access to, because you’re stuck in the stuffy library with a slytherin fourth year who wouldn’t know the meaning of concentration if it struck him in the face.

    “why are you even here?” you snap, just as draco makes another comment about a passing gryffindor fourth year.

    draco raises a brow. he’s leaned back in his seat, so casual, textbooks open in front of him, though he pays them no attention. you don’t think he’s even glanced at one since he sat down. “what do you mean?”

   “i’m trying to revise.” you tap the front of your potions book to exaggerate your point. “in case you’ve forgotten, our exams start in a week. i don’t have time to sit here and scowl at gryffindors with you.”

    “i never invited you to scowl at gryffindors with me.” he throws a pencil across the room, just missing a distracted first year. “i can do that perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

   you slap his arm down, giving him your customary grimace. “wind your neck in, draco. how many times do i have to tell you you’re not special just because you’re a malfoy?”

    he opens his mouth to respond, but takes one look at your deadly scowl and goes quiet. he huffs through his nose, folding his arms over his chest as he leans over his textbook and gets to reading.

    you join him, tracing your wand over the words that are failing to embed themselves in your mind. why you ever decided to take potions - with snape as a teacher, no less - will forever be beyond you, and one of the greatest mistakes you have ever made in your hogwarts life. nothing he says makes any sense, and although you’re in his house, he still derives great pleasure in seeing you suffer at the hands of-

    “malfoy! are you studying?”

   your head snaps up. draco joins you.

   walking through the doors, and the most likely suspect of the jeer, is george weasley.

   your heart barrels into your stomach, a fresh surge of anger coursing through you at the mere sight of him. he’s done so well keeping himself to himself these past few weeks, and seeing him now - right back to square one - makes you want to punch him in the face all over again.

   because he strolls towards your table with that stupid little grin on his face, the evidence of a smirk taking place upon his face, and you hate that it suits him so well. you hate that you can’t even bring yourself to deny his attractiveness, no matter how hard you try.

    you slam your textbook closed. “let’s go, draco.”

   “what does he want?” draco stands and calls over to the approaching weasley twin. “where’s your dumb little sidekick, weasley? got lost in the halls?”

    “oh, would you-”

   your protest is cut short by george’s laugh. “actually no. he’s got a revision class with professor sprout, so i thought i’d come in here and check on my favourite beater.” he looks at you, smiles. “got a minute?”

   “no.” you scoop your textbook into your arm and stand, grabbing draco’s collar. “let’s go, draco. one more wrong move from you, and mcgonagall might not be so nice.”

    draco thrashes against your grip, grabbing the table to prevent you from dragging him right past the grinning weasley and into the hallway. “what do you want with y/n?”

    george raises a brow. “why would i tell you?”

   “because i’m their friend, and last time i checked, you’ve done nothing but torment them since that bloody quidditch match.”

    you groan. “again with the quidditch match? i thought we dropped that ages ago!”

    “apparently malfoy here holds grudges.” george turns to you again, ignoring malfoy’s disgruntled protestations. “i literally just want to have a chat; no funny business.”

    “no funny business?” draco screeches. “don’t listen to him, y/n. anything he wants to say to you, he can say in front of me.”

    a burst of affection blossoms in your chest. you push it down, turning to draco. “i can handle this, mate. you just go and find pansy or whatever it is you do. i’ll catch up.”

   draco narrows his eyes, going still in your grip. “you’re sure?”

   “when have i ever not been able to handle myself?”

   he pauses. “good point.” giving george one final warning glare, he straightens his robes rather theatrically and strolls from the library like nothing happened, like he hadn’t just made a massive scene on your behalf.

    with draco gone, you and george stare at each other. he’s got these pretty brown eyes, a little wide, a faux play on innocence. you see right through him, though. you recognise the glint of mischief he does nothing to hide, dancing behind those pretty brown eyes.

    finally, he says, “got yourself a little body guard, have you?”

   “draco’s protective.” you gesture towards his discarded chair. “take a seat, i guess.”

   grinning, george sits. you follow his lead, scooching your chair back a little bit; you have no idea what he has up his sleeve, and you’re not willing to find out.

    “what do you want?” you ask.

   “i know you and i didn’t exactly hit it off when we first spoke,” he begins.

    “that’s not my fault.”

   he pauses. “i think it was, but that’s not why i’m here.”

   you scowl, folding your arms over your chest. “you were the one being a dick to draco; you started it.”

    “i started it? you were the one pushing me up against a wall! and not even in a good way!”

    “because you were-”

   “being a dick to draco, yes, i heard you the first time.” george shakes his head, trails a hand through his hair. “now you’ve got me off track and i haven’t even been sat for two minutes.”

    “i don’t want to hear any apology - i know you don’t mean it.”

   george scoffs, glancing at you without entirely looking up, which is a look you never thought you would find attractive, but here you are. “i didn’t come here to apologise. in case you didn’t catch on, i don’t think i did anything wrong.”

    “no, you never do.”

    “but, i did come here to talk to you about something. just something i heard on the grapevine.” 

   you pause.

   george smiles, but it holds none of his usual playfulness. this smile actually looks genuine, maybe even a little soft.

    “so i was walking through the corridors - all on my lonesome - the other night, when i came across the slytherin common room.”

    you blink. you don’t know what else to do, having no idea what he even means. 

   he continues. “the door was left open, which i thought was a little weird; usually them things just close over by themselves, and you’ve got all the passwords and protection spells and stuff keeping peeping toms out, isn’t that right?”

    “what are you-”

    “does anyone else know your dad is sick?”

   you honestly would have preferred it if he had just drop kicked you then and there.

    you stare at him, waiting for a punchline that very clearly does not exist. you can scarcely believe your ears, let alone come up with a decent response to such an obtrusive, confusing question. confusing only because you have no idea how he could have ever found out, no idea how he just managed to peek his head into the slytherin common room when every enchantment claims it impossible.

    george stares back at you, his smile still present. it’s still soft, like he’s trying to test the waters, but you see no kindness in it now. 

   you push your chair back, very nearly stumbling over its legs in your haste to get as far from him as possible. that grin fades, his eyes narrowing as he tries reaching for your robes, but you pull away before he can get too close.

    “you nosy little shit,” you hiss, voice trembling. “you nosy, disrespectful little bastard!”

    “hey, hey, hey!” he stands, palms up in surrender. “i’m not teasing, i’m genuinely curious! you never talk about it, so-”

    “i never talk about it because it’s nobody else’s business. especially not some filthy little gryffindor who thinks he’s owed the god damn world!”

    george’s eyes widen. “that was so uncalled for. i was giving you someone to confide in!”

    you laugh, bitter and harsh. it makes george flinch. “and you think that person should be you? after everything? go to hell, george weasley.” you turn on your heel, not even bothering to gather your textbooks, or your quill - you’ll get them later. “and keep your massive nose out of things that don’t concern you!”

    and before george can say anything, you’re speeding out of the library, trying desperately to halt the tears threatening to pour down your face.

   ----    

    “i don’t understand how he found out. how could the door just stay open?”

    you keep your voice down, terrified of the other slytherins hearing what you have to say; the changing rooms are already packed, people fighting over garments and equipment, marcus already mouthing off about the lack of preparation the team had for this game due to exams.

    draco sits beside you, knees pulled to his chest. he stares out at the open space, kneading his bottom lip between his teeth in that thoughtful way he always does. his brows are furrowed, eyes narrowed.

   “it doesn’t make any sense,” he says at last. “the entrances to the common rooms have enchantments and all that stuff on them. sounds to me like he’s lying through his teeth.”

    “but then how else did he find out?”

   draco hollows out his cheeks and shakes his head. “beats me.” he turns to you then, slaps a hand against your knee. “but we can’t focus on that just yet. we have a match today.”

    you sigh, tilting your head back against the wall; your energy has long since been sucked out of you, a week straight of exams not leaving you in the best state, though the excitement of finally being back on the pitch drives you to stand and join the rest of the team.

    slytherin versus hufflepuff today; should be an easy enough win. 

    you mount your broom and get started as soon as the whistle is blown. 

   soaring through the air, your adrenaline kicks back in. for the time being, you are able to ignore the anxiety throbbing in the back of your head, focusing only on the task you have been given. a few hufflepuff’s are wiped out in as little as ten minutes into the match; the slytherin’s in the crowd are howling their excitement, jumping up and down with fists in the air. 

   you look down, meaning to wave at blaise as he jumps up and down in the stands, but it is not blaise your eyes immediately land on. 

   you spot the shock of red hair almost immediately, sitting in the stands with his eyes trained on you. you’ve seen him at these matches so many times - and why wouldn’t he be? a player on the qryffindor team, an avid quidditch player. why shouldn’t he be watching you play right now?

    despite this, his presence distracts you. 

   “y/n!” draco shrieks, before a bludger whizzes past you. goyle, the god send, just manages to knock it away before it slams into your ribs.

   you spin, gasping. goyle sends you a dark look as draco calls out, “you okay?” you give him a shaky thumbs up, take one final look at george in the stands before whizzing across the pitch, determined not to let your attention slip again.

    but he’s there. he’s there, and there’s no way you can ignore him after yesterday. that smile of his, those big brown eyes, his confusion when you lost your mind and started yelling at him. it just felt like the right thing to do, and even now - after having a bit of time to think about it - you’re still angry. what draco said was right - george was probably lying through his teeth when he-

    “y/n!”

    goyle isn’t on the ball this time.

    you spin just in time to get a bludger straight to the chest.

   it knocks the air out of you, sends your broom spiralling to the floor. your fingers - surprisingly numb - slip from the handle, and you crash into the grass, flat on your back. 

    “mother of god,” you groan, rolling onto your side as madame hooch blows the whistle for a time out.

    draco is first by your side, slipping to his knees. “are you daft?”

   “no, i’m winded.”

    “bloody hell.” he grabs your arm, rolling you onto your back. you stare at the sky, disoriented. “can you keep playing?”

   “yes.”

   “are you just saying that?”

    “probably.” with one hand curled round your middle, you push yourself up. draco helps you to your feet, hands you your broom, and before madame hooch - or madame pomfrey for that matter, who is yelling at you from the sidelines to go over for a check up - you mount your broom and kick off again.

    your entire body screams in protest the entire time, ribs burning, chest tight. it takes everything in your power not to slip into unconsciousness. black dots sneak into the edges of your vision, but you push them away and keep playing.

   you keep playing, but not necessarily well.

    you make a hit for a bludger with your bat, only for marcus to curse you out for nearly taking a swing at his head, instead. your broom spirals in all different directions, you suddenly unable to keep it under any resemblance of control. your hands tremble against the handle, eyes slipping, slipping, slipping-

    the whistle blows again. you open your eyes. you’re on the ground again.

    “someone get them to the infirmary!” madame hooch screeches. “the match will commense with the sub - where’s crabbe? crabbe!”

    “no,” you grumble. “no, i can play. i’m fine.”

   “you’ve just passed out, you idiot.”

   george’s voice startles you back to reality. your eyes snap up, meeting his just as he puts an arm beneath you and hauls you off the floor. 

    and you could protest. you want to protest, because george weasley - of all people - should not be the one carrying you to safety, but your chest aches, and all your muscles are on fire, so you don’t even move. you just flop against him, trying desperately to keep consciousness as long as possible.

   it doesn’t work out that way, though. the black dots take over your vision before you’ve even reached the infirmary, the last thing you see being george’s furrowed brows and worried scowl.

   ----

   you wake up to darkness.

    curtains drawn, a quilt tucked beneath your chin, body comfortable against a soft mattress, you’re half tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep.

   that thought is squashed when you look to your side and spot george sat by your bedside.

   he’s fast asleep, head drooped, arms folded across his chest. he looks peaceful, though his hair is mussed, like he’s trailed his fingers through it numerous times.

   you push yourself onto your elbows and glance around; you’re in the infirmary, your body feeling good as new with whatever spell madame pomfrey put on you. clearly she thought you needed the rest, as it is now pitch black outside, and the curtains around your bed have been drawn to separate you from the other patients.

    you grab your wand from the bedside table and whisper “lumos.”

    george jerks awake.

    his chair screeches against the floor, making you wince with the volume. it sounds particularly loud when you’re in a room with people fast asleep, and apparently george thinks the same way. he squints into the darkness, before his eyes pop open at the sight of you.

    “you’re awake!”

   “what are you doing here?”

    in all honesty, you don’t mean to sound so harsh. it just kind of happens, a reflex when it comes to george weasley.

   he frowns. “i came to make sure you didn’t choke on your tongue in your sleep. i know how you slytherins can get.”

    “what happened?”

   he settles back in his chair, regarding you with a tired expression, though his raised eyebrow and wild hair make him look oddly attractive beneath the pale wand light cast upon his face. “you don’t remember?”

   “i remember. . . bits and pieces.” you wince. “we lost the match, didn’t we?”

    george smiles. “it was bound to happen. hufflepuff still had a full team by the end of it, and i think diggory was using slytherin’s weakness to his advantage.”

   “but we had crabbe as a sub!” 

    “crabbe is god awful. goyle’s on thin ice. you’re the only beater on that team keeping things going.”

    you scowl, slumping back against your pillows. it’s not like you had desperately high hopes for slytherin to win, but the fact that it was you who forced the loss upon them makes you angry - and a little bit embarrassed. 

   you flick a glance at george. “is flint mad?”

    george scoffs. “who gives a shit what flint thinks?”

   “i do. he’s the teams captain.” you close your eyes, throw your head back. “he’s gonna give me such a bollocking when he next sees me.”   

    “you were a little distracted up there.” george leans forward. “what happened?”

    and then you remember.

   that moment, just before the first bludger was barrelling towards you. you’d spotted george in the crowd, that shock of red hair, and his eyes had met yours, and you just zoned out. it was uncontrollable; once it started, you couldn’t drag your mind away from it - the fact he was there, the fact he was looking right at you, the fact you kind of wanted to talk to him.    

    “it was nothing,” you grumble, awkwardly picking at the quilt covering your legs. “i just felt a little ill, that’s all; not really the day for a match, was it?”

    george scoffs. “i’ve seen you play brilliant games of quiddich in blizzards, y/n. don’t sit there and tell me a little wind put you off your game this time around, because i know it’s a lie.”

   you scowl, but make no attempt to correct him. there isn’t really any point when he’s looking at you with that grin on his face, an eyebrow raised, a silent dare for you to go against him right now.

   you look back down at the quilt. “i could have carried on playing, you know. i was fine.” 

   “you fell unconscious when i was carrying you to the hospital wing.”

    “that doesn’t mean anything. my body gave up because the adrenaline stopped, but if i’d have just carried on playing-”

   “you probably would have broken a few more ribs.” george taps your nose. “and we can’t be having that.”

   you swat his hand away, scowling. “i still hate you, you know.”

   his smile drops, and for the first time since you woke up, he actually looks upset. he stares at you, those doe-like, mischievous brown eyes forcing you to look away, because you can’t stand them for very long without getting all giddy. it annoys the hell out of you.

    slowly, he leans back, fingers clasped in front of him. “is it because of what i said about your dad?”

   you close your eyes. “i was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up.”

   “but that’s it, isn’t it?” he pushes. “you think i was out of line for asking you about it. you think i was teasing you, or something.”

    “it’s not exactly far-fetched though, is it? you’ve dedicated your entire life to taking the piss out of people from slytherin, so why should i think i was any different?” 

    “because you are different.” george grits his teeth, like the words have caused him physical pain to admit. “i wasn’t - christ, y/n, i wasn’t making fun of the fact your dad is ill. i’m not that bloody cruel.”

    “with the way you treat draco? had me fooled.”

   george’s nostrils flare, lower lip disappearing behind his teeth. “are you and draco a freaking couple or something?”

   “no.”

   “then why do you feel the need to stick up for him every two seconds?”

   “because he’s my friend, george, that’s why!”

    george rolls his eyes, like the mere idea of draco malfoy having friends is unbelievable to him. 

   “what?” you push, leaning forward to meet his eyes. “why is it so difficult for you to wrap your head around the fact i’m friends with malfoy?”

    “because you’re so much better than him.”

    he says it like it hurts, teeth gritted, eyes refusing to meet your own. he says it like the walls are crumbling and this is his last chance to admit the truth. he says it like he hopes you don’t hear him.

    you stare, unable to comprehend his words, because they don’t really make any sense to you. “no i’m not.”

    george stiffens.

   you barrel on, suddenly passionate. “no, i’m really bloody not. i got sorted into slytherin for a reason, george, just like you and all the other weasleys got sorted into gryffindor. draco and i, we think alike. we deal with problems the same way.”

    “that’s bullshit,” george scoffs, finally looking up. “you keep malfoy in check, because you know the difference between right and wrong.”

    “i keep malfoy in check because i’m not an idiot. just because i stop him from doing daft things, doesn’t mean i don’t agree with his intentions.”

   george swallows. you watch his throat bob, the emotion slipping into his stomach, forcing that mask upon his face that you saw disappear for only the briefest of moments during this confusing conversation.

   finally, after a moment, george claps his hands to his knees and stands up, not unlike how your dad rises from his arm chair on his particularly bad days. all huffs and puffs, grunts of discomfort, bones creaking from lack of movement.

    “alright then,” he says simply. “i’ll leave you to it then, shall i? you can get back to - i don’t know - plotting doomsday or something.”

    you growl. “grow up.”

   he gives you a wave, sarcastic, over-the-top just to make you mad. you don’t humour him with a response, instead just watching him leave with your arms folded over your chest, anger seeping into every inch of your freshly-healed body.

    it’s crazy how he can do that to you so easily, how he can wriggle his way into your brain, convince you he has good intentions, only to leave you feeling angrier than when he first walked in.

   ---

   you get out of the infirmary that day, having fully healed thanks to madame pomfrey’s magic. you thank her, offering to send some flowers up to her room as soon as possible. she smiles and says, “just like your father.”

    you manage to avoid flint for most of the day. him being the year above you, it’s easy to miss him in the hallways, and you certainly have no classes together. however, you were a fool to think he wouldn’t be tracking you down any time he possibly could, because as soon as you sit down at the slytherin table that evening, he is right beside you in seconds.

    you glare at your mashed potatoes, speaking through gritted teeth. “don’t wanna hear it, marcus. really, really don’t wanna hear it.”

    “and we didn’t want to lose the match, but here we are.” he shoves your tray away; your food lands on the floor. none of the other slytherins look up. “you gonna explain to me what happened?”

    “why do i need to explain anything to you?” you shoot back, before gesturing to your upturned dinner. “get up there right now and get me a new plate, or so help me god-”

   “you’ll what? sabotage another match?” 

   your eyes widen. “sabotage? i didn’t take a bludger to the chest on purpose!”

    “explain your little performance with weasley then, huh?” flint leans forward, so close you can smell the peppermint on his breath. “has he finally got in your brain, yeah? managed to turn you against us. i don’t forget that your dad was a hufflepuff. and what was your mother?”

   you scowl. “keep my parents out of this.”

   “oh yes!” he exclaims. “a gryffindor! funny how that works, isn’t it? i can imagine you have a soft spot for the enemy, growing up with one and all that.”

    fury erupts in your chest. you stand, nostrils flaring, fingers curled into fists at your sides; so easily you could draw back and punch him, flatten him on the ground of the great hall in front of everyone. so easily you could make him pay for throwing your parents into this.

    but you don’t. you’re tired. you remember your dads voice, his silent plea for you to just take things easily this year. he isn’t well enough to handle any more trouble you may bring to his doorstep.

   and so, it’s with hesitance that you step away from the slytherin table. you lean down, lower your voice to an almost deadly whisper when you say, “i’d sleep with one eye open, you little shit.”

    you turn on your heel and start towards the door, starving but you don’t care. you have to get out of there before you lose your temper even further, before you banish the sound of your dads voice and make a mistake.

   ----

    draco finds you a few hours later, because of course he does.

    he probably heard all about your little altercation, and you have no doubt in your mind that it’s made him mad. you’re protective of him, but it works both ways, and draco has proved that on multiple occassions.

    the door to the common room bursts open, revealing a brief glimpse of the lunchtime crowd finally emerging from the great hall. you look up from your textbook, squinting at the sudden onslaught of light. draco stands in the doorway, nostrils flaring, eyes firm on you.

    your lips twitch, an attempt at a smile. “hello.”

   “what did he say to you?” draco demands. “if he said anything about your dad, y/n, i swear to-”

    “calm down,” you grumble, slumping into the arm chair. “you know how flint gets; he doesn’t know when to hold his tongue.”

   “yeah, well, he’s going to fucking learn, isn’t he?”

    you look up, because he must be joking. draco might be intimidating to some, but it all comes down to a name at the end of the day; he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried. he certainly couldn’t go up against marcus flint.

    but the rage in his eyes leaves little to the imagination about what he wants to do. he turns on his heel before you can even stand up, fleeing the common room in search of marcus flint.

   “draco!” you stumble up, dashing after him. “draco, stop. what the hell are you even going to do?”

   “have a little chat with him.” he picks up his pace, as if afraid you’re going to stop him. you have to start jogging, pushing past fellow confused students in your haste to grab draco before he does something stupid.

    but the world is plotting against you, it seems, as draco rounds the corner and comes face-to-face with the slytherin quidditch team captain as he makes his way to his next class.

    both boys freeze, and for a moment, you think draco’s respect for the older man might just break through. for a fleeting, hopeful moment, you think draco will come to his senses and turn away before any real damage can be done.

    and then he punches flint right in the face.

   you cry out, stumbling over your own two feet in your haste to get to draco before flint - stunned and confused - can come back around. even draco seems shocked at his own actions, staring at his fingers with wide eyes, face paling.

    “idiot!” you hiss, grabbing his arm and dragging him back, but marcus is already regaining his composure, looking at draco with nostrils flared.

   you raise a hand in marcus’s direction, trying in vain to drag draco behind you. “alright lads, lets calm down, yeah? we’ve got classes to get to!”

    “get out of the way, y/n,” marcus growls.

    “don’t talk to them like that,” draco snaps, lunging forward. you try in vain to keep the smaller boy from doing any further damage, but he’s determined, and you know how draco gets when he’s determined. he fights against your grip like a snarling dog, spitting curse words in flint’s direction, half of which you don’t even pick up on.

   you’re too busy staring at marcus, silently daring him to do anything.

   because, the thing is, marcus knows you just as he knows every person on his quidditch team. you’re the beater that keeps the team upright, the only one of the three beaters he can actually trust to win them a match. you’re the one he’s studied for years as you play the game by his side, and he knows you won’t take any shit.

    but either will he. that’s the beauty of being a slytherin. you know that as well as anyone.

   and that is why you can do nothing when marcus dives forward, malfoy having just called him some awful name, and grabs the younger boy by the front of his robes. he shoves you out of the way, your shoulder crashing into a passing first year. you hastily apologise, stumbling upright, trying to get between them as draco yells and makes a fuss, and marcus keeps so calm and collected, it’s almost scary, a scene you don’t know how to handle-

    marcus is pushed backwards.

    he falls on his back. you hear his wand snap in his back pocket, quills and parchment flying left, right and centre. draco stumbles, gasping for air, pressing a hand to his throat; his eyes snap to you, but you pay him no attention as you stare at george weasley, now standing guard over the younger malfoy boy.

    he glares down at flint, fingers curled into fists at his sides. the crowd stand shocked, some of them whispering “is that fred or george?” but you pay them no attention. your heart is racing. you’re so confused.

    marcus blinks. “what the fuck?”

   “why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” george snarls. 

    “i can handle myself, weasley!” draco barks, and that snaps you out of your reverie.

    you march forward and grab draco by the ear. he cries out, but you don’t pay attention to his pleas as you drag him through the hall, yelling out, “nothing to see here people!” over your shoulder. draco kicks and whines, but you’re furious - furious that he would put himself in such danger, furious that he couldn’t even finish the job he started, because george weasley - of all people! - stepped in to save his ass.

     you push draco into the nearest empty classroom you can find. “you idiot.”

    “he deserved it!” draco exclaims, rubbing the reddened tip of his ear. “jesus christ, y/n, let me help you! why do you let people like him get away with stuff like that?”

    “i don’t!” you bark. “i don’t let them get away with it, draco, because i handle it on my own! you don’t need to protect me!”

   draco scowls, folding his arms over his chest.

   you sigh, running a hand down your face. “you’re like a little brother to me, do you understand? if you get hurt one of these days, i’ll never forgive myself. it’s better if you just let me deal with things like this.”

    “why do you get to protect me all the time but i can’t protect you?”

   “because i can protect myself.”

    “or george weasley will do it.”

    you purse your lips, glancing over your shoulder as if george himself will be stood in the doorway; part of you kind of wishes he was. 

    “i don’t know why he did that,” you mumble. “he hates your guts.”

   draco scoffs. “yes, i’m aware of that. but i think it’s pretty obvious why he decided to step in.”

   you raise a brow, a silent question. 

    “that boy hasn’t stopped gawking at you since the first quidditch match,” draco explains. “don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. and also don’t pretend like he wasn’t the reason you got so distracted during the match against hufflepuff.”

    you blink, heat clawing to your face. of course it’s true - you never denied that to yourself - but hearing draco say it out loud, like it means something, makes your stomach curl. 

    draco chuckles, still rubbing his ear. “i must say, y/n, i’m surprised by your pick, but whatever makes you happy.”

    “george is...” you falter, the acidic adjective balancing on the tip of your tongue, just enough of a lie to leave you hesitant. “george is a. . . interesting character.”

    “all the weasleys are,” draco agrees. “but not all the weasleys have caught your eye, have they?”

   “shut up.” you fold your arms, biting your lower lip. “i don’t feel anything for george. nothing nice, anyway. he annoys me.”

    “he annoys you, does he?”

    “you know he does!”

    “i also know you’re getting very flustered right now.”

   you scowl, quickly turning away before draco can gather any more evidence of your true feelings through your appearance. “go to hell.”

    “tell me i’m wrong. tell me he wasn’t the person who distracted you during that match.”

    you open your mouth, ready to lie. you’re a slytherin. lying comes easily when it works in your favour, but you glance over your shoulder, and you spot draco’s raised brow and amused smile, and you remember that he is a slytherin himself, a slytherin who knows you better than anyone else in this damned school. he can read you like an open book, a skill he is clearly using to his advantage now.

   you grit your teeth, turning back around. “it was an accident. i just wasn’t expecting him to be there.”

    “the weasley twins never miss a game!” draco exclaims, a burst of laughter mingling with the words, like he can’t believe you’re even attempting to lie. “honestly, y/n, who do you think you’re trying to fool? the entire school saw how george reacted to you falling-”

   “how he reacted?”

    draco’s smile fades. “oh, of course.” he shakes his head. “of course, you wouldn't have seen him, probably wouldn’t have heard him, either.”

    you raise a brow, heat crawling up your face again. “what are you on about?”

    “y/n, when you fell off your broom that day, george bolted. he nearly gave colin creevey a bloody concussion, shoving his way through the stands. professor mcgonagall tried to stop him from getting on the pitch, but he wasn’t having any of it. even mcgonagall backed down when she saw his face.”

   oh.

   oh, oh, oh, that wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. not at all.

   the blood thrums through your veins, louder than it has ever been. you can’t respond, can’t even think straight, trying to remember that day and what happened during the moments before you fell head first onto the pitch.#

   but you remember nothing. you opened your eyes, and you were on the floor, and george was stood over you, calm as anything. not once did you think he may have actually went against the rules to get to you.

    “that doesn’t make any sense,” you mumble.

   draco raises a brow. “why doesn’t it?”

    “because george and i hate each other.” 

    and draco laughs. he laughs, head thrown back, loud and obnoxious. you stare at him, but you’re not even angry. you’re still in shock, overcome with a sudden need to find george and ask him about whatever draco has just tried telling you.

    because it can’t be true. george and you don’t get along. he’s the guy who hates draco, the guy who knows about your dad, the guy who does your head in more than anyone else in the world.

    he’s also the guy who carried you to the hospital wing when you were on the brink of unconsciousness.

   he’s also the guy who knows about your dad, yet hasn’t told a single soul.

    he’s also the guy who just saved draco’s ass, and maybe you’re thinking too much into it, but did he only do that because you made it so clear that draco is your friend?

    you swallow thickly, trailing your hands through your hair. “oh, draco.”

   “oh, indeed,” draco replies, still grinning. “here i was thinking you were smart.”

    “i have to talk to him.”

    “yes, well, go ahead.” draco places a hand on his forehead. “i’ll stay in here until flint calms down; i’ll be fine on my own.”

     usually, you would ask him if he’s sure. you might not even leave, instead choosing to sit with draco, sharing sweets, insulting each other’s life choices.

    but right now, you don’t stick around long enough for him to change his mind. you whirl on your heel, pure adrenaline thumping through your veins as you throw open the door and dart out into the hallway.

     george is in class. he has to be in class, because that’s where you’re supposed to be right now.

    you dash down the hallway, no longer caring about the teachers walking back and forth, all of whom are probably wondering what on earth you’re doing out of class right now. you pay them no attention, instead making a direct line for potions, where you know george is currently seated, probably bored out of his mind.

    you halt at the window of the potions classroom and peek over the top of the sill. there he is, seated at the back, chin resting on his palm as he stares at nothing in particular. at the front, snape paces back and forth, slapping a wooden ruler against the blackboard, a noise you are all too familiar with. 

    you grit your teeth, wave your hands back and forth, anything to get his attention. finally, however, it’s fred who sees you, and his eyes - identical to his brothers - immediately widen, a grin appearing on his face.

    you point to george, and fred gets the memo. he nods, gives you a thumbs up before tapping george on the shoulder and pointing in your direction. you make a come here gesture, to which george raises a brow, motioning to snape at the front of the classroom. impatiently, you tap your wrist, signalling to him that this is the one chance you’re going to get to talk to him, and you need to do it now.

    george rolls his eyes before throwing his hand in the air. 

    snape pauses his lecture. “yes, weasley?”

   “can i use the bathroom, sir?”

    “you can wait.”

    “no, sir, you don’t understand. i had one of hagrid’s fish suppers earlier, and-”

   snape slaps his ruler against the desk. “i don’t want to hear it! off you go, but be quick about it. any catching up you have to do can be done in my classroom during lunch.”

    “you’re the best, professor!” george stands and all-but runs to the door.

   as soon as he’s thrown it open, you grab the front of his robes and drag him down the hall, to a place where neither of you will be heard by the potions master.

    george stumbles after you, laughing louder than you’re comfortable with when the two of you are skipping class. you shove him into yet another empty classroom, closing the door and casting a quick spell to lock it.

    you spin, and as soon as you lay eyes on him, the speech you had planned dies in your throat.

    you just stare at him, because that honestly feels like all you can do. you’re struck by how gorgeous he is, those brown eyes you have never ignored, the messy mop of ginger hair, the chiselled cheeks and lanky body. all of it combined makes george weasley him, and it’s enchanted you quicker and more unexpectedly than you’ll ever be willing to admit.

    george raises a brow, folding his arms over his chest. “is this important, or am i risking a detention with snape for no reason?”     

   you blink, suddenly aware that you did not plan this out as well as you probably should have. what do you even want to say to him? what point do you want to get across?

   george tilts his head at your silence, leaning forward teasingly. he’s still got that smirk on his face, the one you refuse to acknowledge, because he’s only doing it to annoy you, and he looks so good whilst doing it. 

   you scowl in response. “you know flint is going to kill you next time he sees you, right?”

    surprised, george recoils. “that’s what you wanted to say to me?”

    “i’m giving you a warning. i know marcus flint really well, and he’s not going to let this slide. you should probably start thinking about leaving hogwarts next year, just to give you a better chance-”

    “y/n, for christ’s sake.”

    you deflate. your shoulders slump, the energy seeping from your body in one clean swoop. you groan, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if doing so will push the stress and confusion from your brain.

    “i don’t know how to do this,” you grumble. 

    “don’t know how to do what?”

   “say thank you.” you drop your hands; george has stepped a little closer. you inhale sharply, ready to recoil, but those brown eyes of his keep you trapped.  

   he raises a brow. “you want to say thank you?”

    “i know you don’t like draco,” you mumble. “you didn’t have to stand up for him back there, but you did anyway. god only knows what would have happened to him if you hadn’t stepped in.”

    “he needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.” george shrugs. “but he’s still the year below us. flint should have handled things better.” 

     you nod, pursing your lips. it’s the gyryffindor mindset, a mindset you will never properly understand, but a mindset you grew up witnessing, because your mother always had the same one. whilst you were usually all for getting revenge, your mother always calmed you down by telling you that, sometimes, it was better to take the high road. sometimes, you needed to protect people weaker than yourself.

    “plus,” george is quick to add. “he pushed you. that was a step too far for me.”

    startled, you look up. “that was a step too far? you don’t even like me, george!”

    george’s smile slips. his brows furrow, pinching in the centre in a most adorable way. outside, students bustle back and forth, class ending; you’ll have to deal with snape, and so will george, but right now, neither of you really care. george just stares at you, and then he starts shaking his head, and then he’s laughing.

    you recoil. “what’s so funny?”

   “you really are daft,” he says. “absolutely daft in the brain.”

    “what are you talking about?”

    but he only continues to laugh, throwing his head back. he turns on his heel, hand inches from the door handle, ready to leave this conversation at that, but your eagerness to know more drives you to stop him. you grab his robes and pull him back, stumbling just enough to push him against the wall, your chest inches from his own.

    his laugh dies, breath catching in his throat as he stares down his nose at you. “not this again.”

    “what are you talking about, george?”

    he smiles. slowly, he lifts his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your heated cheeks. you’re startled by the touch, half ready to pull away from him, but you stay frozen, trapped in his gaze.

    “i don’t hate you, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “in fact, i think i’ve actually grown quite fond of you these past few weeks.”

   it doesn’t make sense. none of it makes sense. in your head, you replay the relationship formed between you and george, the constant bickering, the harsh words, the dire need to be as far from each other as possible - a need that was never met, because somehow, you always found yourself drawn to him, even when you convinced yourself he was the last person you wanted to see.

    you swallow thickly, trailing your hands down his robes, flattening the creases you made in the material. he watches your fingers as they graze over the collared shirt he is wearing, lingering just by his stomach before you flinch away and step back, chewing your bottom lip.

    george grins again. he’s always grinning. you don’t want him to ever stop grinning. “you alright there?”

    you nod. “fine. why wouldn’t i be fine?”

    “i don’t know, but you look a little shell shocked.”

   you scowl.

    his grin widens. “there’s that look i’m so familiar with!”

   you roll your eyes. “go to hell, george weasley.”

    ----

     last quidditch match of the season.

   slytherin versus gryffindor.

   marcus is all but foaming at the mouth.

   you and george are making faces at each other from opposite ends of the pitch.

   draco nudges your arm as madame hooch goes through the rules. you glance at him, raising a brow in silent question.

    “stay focused, please,” he whispers, nodding at george who is busy giving goyle the middle finger. “i get you two are friends now, but this match is important to us. get your head in the game.”

    you scoff. “when have i ever not had my head in the game?” 

    draco raises a brow.

    you scowl. “that was one time, alright? i’ve got it this time. them gryffindors aren’t gonna know what’s hit them.”

    and so, the game begins. 

    it’s a dirty game. blood makes an appearance a few times. one of your hands get crushed by a bludger that goyle failed to block, so your knuckles are bloody throughout the entire match.

   and then there’s george.

    he circles you, singing ‘happy birthday’ at the top of his lungs. he smacks a bludger in your direction, but you dodge it and smash it back at him; it hits off the end of his broom, sending him swirling through the air. 

     he rises again, however, and joins your side. the two of you speed the length of the pitch, shoving and grabbing at each other’s brooms, laughing the entire time.

     “just give it up, l/n!” he jeers. “look at the state of your hand! there’s no way you can win this game now!”

    “piss off, weasley!” you yell back, before slamming your bat into an oncoming bludger, sending it straight for harry potter. 

    “oh, you cheeky git!” george exclaims, whizzing after the bludger to direct it elsewhere. you laugh, whizzing as high into the air as you can possibly go before madame hooch blows her whistle and scolds you. 

    the gryffindors start to struggle. you see it in the score board, how fast slytherin are catching up to them. harry is whizzing around like a madman, searching left, right and centre for the snitch that draco is also on the prowl for. you, however, keep your eyes on the bludger, every now and then diverting your attention to the ginger boy who keeps blocking your path.

    “you think this is a kids game, y/n?” he calls, snatching at the bristles on the back of your broom, yanking you back in a way that would usually deliver a penalty, but everyone’s eyes are on draco and harry, so nobody spots the discrepancy. 

    “oh, definitely not!” you yell back. “watch out, georgie; looks like goyle’s put himself into high gear!”

    you do a loop in the air, giving george no time to even process your words before the bludger goyle whacked in his direction crashes into his back, knocking him straight off the front of his broom.

   you would be lying to claim there was not a moment of worry, a moment of genuine contemplation to follow him to the ground, make sure he’s alright. however, that moment is short lived when george gives you the finger, clambers right back on his broom and continues the game with more brutality than you’ve ever seen him possess.

   you’re panting by the end of it, sweat dripping from your brow, seeping into the thin cloth of your quidditch robes. you’ve screamed yourself hoarse, throat aching and raw, but you manage to still scream victory when the final whistle goes off and lee jordan is forced to announce slytherin’s success over the loud speakers.

     you crash to the ground, immediately joining the group hug, draco in the centre.

    “that’s my boy!” you yell, ruffling his hair. “you absolute fucking legend, draco malfoy!”

    draco scowls, shoving your hand away. “don’t know why any of you are surprised.”

    you flick his chin before pulling him back in for a hug. 

    once the team celebrations are over, however, you turn your attention to george. you’ve been doing that a lot more often these days - looking for him in a crowd, wanting to share your joy with him, even when your joy swipes his own from right under his nose.

    you spot him in an instant, because - as always - he’s already looking at you. he’s scowling this time, but that doesn’t stop you from dropping your broom and skipping over to him.

    “we won! we won! we won!” you jeer, grabbing the badge on your robe and shoving it in his face. “see that, weasley? that’s the crest of a winner! that’s the crest of the best house in this fucking school!”

    george folds his arms over his chest, staring as you jump up and down in excitement. 

    he lets you continue until you tire yourself out. you laugh tiredly, pleased to see the tiniest twitch of george’s lips as he glares down at you. 

    finally he says, “finished?”

    “oh, don’t be a sore loser!” you throw your arms over his shoulders, because you’re tired and you don’t really care about anything right now. “tell you what; i’ll celebrate with you later on.”

    george recoils, arms still folded over his chest, making your embrace slightly uncomfortable, though you refuse to let go. “why would i want to celebrate with you?”

   “listen mate, take it or leave it; i have an entire team i could be celebrating with right now.”

     george stiffens. you lift your head, leaning your chin against his chest. he glares down at you, and before you can grasp what his intentions are, he leans down and pecks you on the lips.

    just like that. no explanation, no warning. the kiss lasts no longer than two seconds before he pulls away, breaks out of your embrace and says, “go celebrate with your slytherin friends.”

    he turns, starting up the field. for a second, you just stare after him, shellshocked, but then the scene replays in your head, and you’re suddenly overcome with the need to repay him.

    you dash after him, despite the ache in your legs and the exhaustion in your bones. you grab the back of his quidditch robes, spin him around, and it’s like he expects it - he drops his broom, stretches his arms out and catches you the moment you leap into his embrace and slam your lips to his.

   and it’s so strange, but so perfect, so relieving all at the same time. he holds you tighter, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck whilst you busy yourself with trailing your hands through his thick, messy, windswept hair. 

   behind you, you listen to draco groan out the words, “now?” but it does nothing to deter you from the moment. 

   you pull away first. “i’ve changed my mind.”

    panting, george says, “about what?”

    “you should come celebrate with me,” you reply. “i don’t want to celebrate with my slytherin friends any more.”

     george laughs. in the background, you hear draco telling the other slytherins to just head up to the common room - you won’t be there for another few hours. 

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fic #george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x reader

[pedros-mustache]

convenience

summary: he was within arm’s reach. that’s all.

warnings: suggestions of harassment, alcohol consumption, language, innuendo

a/n: no thoughts, frankie morales and his broad shoulders only. poorly edited so forgive any mistakes you find. i’ll go back and fix soon.

you rarely come to the bar alone. tonight is an anomaly.

grabbing drinks after a long work week is more enjoyable with friends by your side, and you frequent this particular watering hole what feels like every friday but can’t be more than twice a month. life is busy for you and what friends remain from your college days. babies and partners and jobs—it keeps everyone running to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off. (for you, of course, it’s just the job that’s got you strung out. no husband, no babies. that shouldn’t matter, but sometimes it does.) still, despite hectic schedules, there’s a standing date a few times a month: friday, eight o’clock, the booth with the cracked-plastic seat coverings in the far right corner.

you like the noisy atmosphere of this place, and it’s easy to lose a few hours while gossiping over cheap margaritas, a whitney houston song thumping over the tinny loudspeakers. the air smells like cigarette smoke—that’s your only qualm—but the drinks are cheap, the food is passable, and it’s a chance to let loose and really enjoy yourself after a five days of business boredom. 

of course, that’s what “the hot bird” is like most of the time. today is different. today is tuesday, it’s six-thirty, and you really shouldn’t be here alone.

you twirl the thin plastic straw around your drink and risk a glance over your shoulder. there’s a guy in your regular booth—red-faced with alcohol, tie loosened, dress shirt two sizes too big. you know he’s staring at you because you can feel his eyes on your back, your hips, your ass; he’s anything but discreet. his stare hurts like a healing sunburn: itchy, uncomfortable, hard to ignore. even from across the bar, his focus is unyielding, and you doubt he’s one to be easily dissuaded, not with the rabble-rousing friends at his booth, jostling drinks and shoulders alike. you imagine he’s biding his time, waiting for you to feel comfortable so he can strike. which is exactly what you need after being passed up for promotion (again): a drunk asshole bent on making your shitty day worse just for the hell of it.

the bartender—josh—says your name and sets a cocktail down on the counter in front of you. “here,” he says. he jerks his chin forward, indicating the back of the room. “it’s from the guy in the back.”

“oh god.” you resist the urge to look over your shoulder again. the muscles in your neck twitch, scream at you to turn and appraise the self-satisfied smirk on this guy’s face, but you hold still. you are nothing if not resolute in your determination to mind your on business, wallow in self pity, and get home without much of a fuss. “what the fuck is this thing?”

josh cringes. “it’s a b-52, our least popular drink.”

“it looks like spilled motor oil and congealed grease had a baby.”

to your right, in the barstool two over from yours, there’s a snort of amusement. your eyes snap to the side, but don’t register the other patron before josh is tapping your wrist. you hold your breath, stomach clenching at the conciliatory look on his face.

“don’t look now. i think he’s coming over.”

“of course he is,” you mutter, dropping your forehead to your palm. fuck, you really do not want to cry right now, but tears prick the corners of your eyes anyway. traitorous bastards. it’s been a long day, and you aren’t sure you have the mental fortitude to tactfully tell some guy to piss off without causing a scene or bursting into a blubbering mess.

“i can tell him—”

a smooth, unflustered voice cuts josh off mid-sentence. “no, let me.” 

a half-filled pint of beer and a plastic basket of fries slide across the counter, and then a man, shoulders broad and trucker cap pulled low, drops to the stool beside you. you gape at him, jaw hanging. the guy from two stools over—eavesdropper.

“unless,” he continues. “you want to tell him to fuck off yourself. i’m sure you can—you look like a capable woman—but i know men and sometimes...” he trails off, but you catch his drift well enough. you know men too, and the men who frequent this bar are often of the seedier variety.

except maybe not this guy... he seems nice enough, willing to lend a hand, and after the day you’ve had, you’ll take any help you can get. plus he’s easy on the eye, and it’s been awhile since anyone with such a handsome face paid you any mind.

you twist slightly in your stool, turning your body to face him. you open your mouth to offer your name, but he beats you to it, sliding his hand over the low, curved back of your stool. his presence—so masculine yet so gentle—crowds you, and you fight the urge to suck in a sharp breath. mouth hovering over your ear, he lowers his voice, and his opposite hand, long fingers splayed outwards, settles on the counter. you’re boxed in, an arm on either side of your body, but, strangely, it feels... good, safe even.

“i’m frankie,” he says. “just follow my lead, and we’ll both be out of your hair in no time.”

you turn your face to meet frankie’s eyes. he’s so near you can feel his breath on your cheeks, could kiss his plush lips if you dared. his smile, small but encouraging, eases the clench in your stomach. your gaze drifts from his warm, brown eyes to the thumb-sized spot on his chin absent the fine layer of scruff otherwise covering his jaw. god, he’s handsome.

“uh—excuse me? i couldn’t help but notice you ignored the drink i sent over.” the man from the back of the room leans against the counter, his gaze tight on your face, elbows poised casually on the bar. his voice belies none of the uncertainty he should probably feel when confronted with your obvious disinterest and frankie’s breadth. “picked my favorite for a sweet thing like you.”

gritting your teeth, you turn your head. “thanks, but i don’t think—” your resolve wavers when the man’s fat lips spread into a grin. shit, he likes this doesn’t he—how uncomfortable you are? he reminds you of richard, the guy who got the promotion you deserve: smarmy and entirely too good at weaseling. your stomach sours.

“you can’t turn me down until you at least take a sip of the thing.” reaching over his chest, the man picks up the cocktail. the three distinct layers jostle in the small shot glass.

perhaps he sees the fine sheen of tears that rush to your eyes or perhaps it’s just to make a point, but frankie’s hand drops to your thigh. the warmth of his palm filters through the mesh of your tights. without thinking, you twine your fingers through his and squeeze. 

“she said no, man.” 

for the first time, your would-be-suitor’s stare slides to focus on frankie. he arches a thin eyebrow. there’s no mistaking the way his chest inflates as frankie straightens his spine. “yeah? and who are you?”

frankie speaks without hesitation. “her boyfriend.” 

the man huffs, incredulous. “well, you didn’t claim her before now so i’m just taking my shot. free pick, ya know? first come first serve.”

frankie slides from the stool to standing. he’s near the same height as the other man, but there’s something about the clench in his jaw and the way his fingers tighten around yours and the way he moves to grip your shoulder than has you leaning into him despite the anger rolling off him in sharp waves. your shoulder pushes against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and you hold your breath.

“say that again and i’ll crack your skull open on the counter.”

the man blinks, stunned, then laughs. it’s a harsh, nervous bark. his eyes flit to the back of the room then return to frankie. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. what are you? some macho man?” 

“no—retired special forces. i can and i will make your life a living hell if you don’t crawl back into the hole you came from. leave my lady alone.”

“shit.” the man shakes his head before tossing the rejected cocktail down his throat with a cringe. “ain’t fucking worth it anyway.” he slams the glass down on the counter and, heeding frankie’s advice, returns to sulk in the back booth, tail tucked between his legs.

frankie waits until the asshole is sat snug in his booth before returning to his stool. he pops a now-cold fry in his mouth then tags a long swig of his beer. you watch him and decide you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in your entire life. 

“thank you,” you breathe. “i—fuck, i didn’t realize you’d be so... intimidating.” 

frankie shrugs, eats another fry. he avoids your eye. “hate to see you treated like that. least i can do.” 

you hum in approval, tracing the curve of his nose with your gaze. “i got passed up for a promotion today,” you offer. “put me in a real tailspin. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week.”

fry dangling between his pointer finger and thumb, frankie finally returns his eyes to yours. “i’m sorry to hear that. if it makes you feel any better, i got stood up. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week either.”

“guess we’re just a couple of losers then.” when frankie’s eyebrow lifts, you visibly cringe. you grab his forearm and squeeze your eyes shut. “no, wait—that’s not what i meant. i meant that... in the grand scheme of things, we aren’t... i mean...” squinting, you risk a peek at him. “shit, i’m sorry.”

after a moment, frankie smiles—and your heart leaps to your throat. he motions to josh at the other end of the bar. “what drink do you like?” he asks. “we can make it a real date, if you want? you know, to keep up appearances.” 

“a real date?”

he nods. “yeah. i’m not big on fate and shit like that, but... well, maybe i’m big on fate tonight.” his eyes roam your face, and you wonder if he’s drinking you in, memorizing your features. unlike before, his stare is kind, appreciative, reverent. your cheeks heat under his gaze, but you don’t look away.

the corner of your mouth pulls into a grin. “okay.” you smile at josh when he appears. “i like mojitos.” 

“really?” at your nod, frankie’s smile widens. “me too.” 

you reach for a fry in his basket. “must be fate then,” you say with a shrug.

“yeah.” his hand falls to your thigh again, squeezing the flesh around your knee. you look from his hand to his face, and anything you once thought shitty about the day turns rosy with possibility. “must be fate.”

.

.

.

taglist:

@ezramando @frannyzooey @spvce-cowboy @writings-of-a-hufflepuff @sofsoftheloaf @salome-c @aphr0d1te5 @anu-simps @softermina @spideysimpossiblegirl @mummifymecaptain @sleep-tight1 @thewayofthemandalorian @greeneyedblondie44 @darthpapi @salome-c @just-another-fangirl-22 @stevie75

if your handle is crossed out, tumblr would not let me tag your blog.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pm writes

[the32ndbeat]

𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣.𝐲𝐧 - [ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟛 ]

pairing: stalker!jaehyun x fem!reader ( ft twice’s tzuyu, loona’s haseul )

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual harassment, mature themes, mentions of drugs, smoking, extreme views, misogyny, yandere themes

a/n: unedited! it’s been forever since I updated this but also considering if I should turn this into a tbz series at my tbz writing blog so we’ll see how this goes.

taglist: I don’t have one yet and I’m seeing how this does since I’m thinking whether I should convert it into a tbz series. Please do lemme know if you guys want to see this continued!

disclaimer: everything written here is FICTIONAL and I am in no way saying that the mentioned characters act like that irl!

masterlist  

(inspired by netflix’s you and the book of the same name by caroline kepnes)

The first thing that registers in my mind is how fucking loud this place is. Seriously, what is it with college parties and their inherent need to blast music loud enough to wake the entire neighbourhood within a five mile radius? Before I even step within the premises or even make it to the front yard, the whole fraternity house seemed to shake from the loudness of the bass-boosted music when viewed from a distance away. I even had to squint as I approach, the strings of fluorescent party lights draped all over the place glowing so brightly it almost hurt to look straight.

A few drunk college frat boys stumble past me, their hair sticky and messy with sweat and their breaths reeking of cheap alcohol. Their steps are wobbly and I can even see drool and remnants of vomit hanging at the corner of their mouths. My heart clenches with pure disgust and I grit my teeth as I watch them laugh out loud over nothing, their brains a pink, unintelligent mush in their skulls, probably rotted by endless drinking and fucking. All part of the college frat experience.

I wonder if they enjoy being a complete waste of space while wasting mummy and daddy’s money to put them through college.

I look away and ignore the growing irritation in me. This is the sort of party your friends wanted you to go with them to? I thought your friends were bad influences but scratch that, they’re fucking horrible. They taint you, taint your innocence and put you at risk around such dangerous men who do not deserve to be even a mile within your presence. As I walk closer, the house looks even more hideous up close.

It’s decorated in the worst way I’ve seen a house decorated. It’s as if someone threw a bunch of random fairy lights bought in the brightest, blinding neon colours that simply do not go together over a sloppy looking house and the front yard is littered with empty, red plastic cups and is that a discarded bra I see over there?

I tiptoe over the trash laying around on the grass and try to avoid the gyrating bodies of college students who clearly have no sense of rhythm. My skin feels grimy within just a few minutes of being here and I can’t wait to leave but there is no way I’m leaving when I know that you will be here. The thought of you being surrounded by such vermins makes me sick to the stomach and I want to get you out of here. The only place you should rightfully be, is at my place where there are no revolting men who only love to drink cheap alcohol, party till sunrise, get high off smoking a blunt, yell ‘turn up!’ every few minutes as if it’s muscle memory in their tiny, almost non-existent brains and do anything but be a productive member of society.

As I push through the double doors, the nauseating smell containing a mixture of intoxicating alcohol, smoke and cheap cologne almost knocks me backwards. My hand grips tighter to the wooden door and I force myself in. Inside, the house is dim but bright at the same time with disco and laser lights. A massive boombox and a pair of equally large loudspeakers sit at the corner of the room and some hip hop tune is being played while people dance and drink and smoke to their hearts’ delight. You’d never believe these kids were supposed to be the future.

Oh, how disappointed their parents must be.

A girl in skimpy shorts and a tube top looks at me with unadulterated want and beckoning in her eyes while staring at the varsity jacket I’m wearing, no doubt replaying fantasies of fucking a college athlete in her mind and trying to guess which sport I supposedly play. I gaze blankly at them before turning away and I can see her shift from the corner of my eye, obviously bothered by the lack of attention. It’s like I can almost see the gears whirring in her brain. Did she not show enough cleavage? Is more skin needed to get my attention? Sometimes people are so predictable and readable that it’s almost pathetic.

Other times, I might have lowered my standards and settled for a casual fuck with someone like that but not today. Today, I’m a man on a mission. A mission to look out for you.

My eyes scan the room but it’s too dim to see anything within four feet in any direction. The flashing lights threaten to overwhelm me along with the stink of the place and booming music and I can feel my annoyance evolving into anger. I repress the urge to slap the shit out of a guy in a red bandana who screams ‘turn up’ all of sudden, practically effectively bursting my eardrums.

I almost bump into a couple eating each other’s faces out when someone yells out at me.

“Hey, you!”

The music is so loud that I almost don’t hear it. I whip around and sure enough, it’s tube top girl making her way over to me. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Not only do I have to find and save you from this sleazy place and have to squeeze in with a crowd of sweaty, brainless college kids who know nothing but party in a tiny, dirty, smelly frat house but now I also have tube top girl hot on my heels?

The things I do for you, y/n and we haven’t even properly gotten to know each other yet.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Tube top girl smiles and up close, I can see that her mascara is smudged and her hair is slicked back with an unholy amount of gel into a tight little bun which only makes her face look wider and her forehead exposed with a sheen of sweat covering it. Her lipstick is reapplied and I know for a fact that she has done it to impress me. Her top is also inched a little lower, as if that makes her anymore appealing.

I smile in a dismissive way, in a way that showed that I cared, but not really.

“Hey,” I reply flippantly.

“Crazy party huh?” She grins, satisfied that she’s got my attention now. Women.

I let my eyes drift to her breasts and look back up at her expectant, puppy dog eyes that are so eager to please it’s actually embarrassing.

“Yeah.”

“What’s your name? I’m Meg.”

“I’m Jaehyun.”

“You part of any sports team in school?” And just like that I know that tube top girl must have had fantasies of fucking a college athlete.

So predictable.

“Yeah, I’m on the swim team.” I say and her smile widens, a playfulness in her eyes as she leans her chest in closer in what was meant to be a sexy gesture.

“Oh, is that so? I’ve never really talked to a competitive swimmer before,” she replies in a sultry voice and I smirk.

“Well, here I am. Am I every bit of the guy you imagined a college swimmer to be?” I whisper in an equally sultry voice. Let her think she has me wrapped around her finger. It’s easier that way. Better for her to think I’m enthralled with her and her breasts than let her cling onto me the entire night.

“Mhm,” she says, “of course.”

I’m about to reply when something catches my eye. From the window, I see you and your friends stumbling and swaying down the sidewalk, away from the party. Internally, I feel my rage simmering again but not at anyone. At myself.

How was I so late that I didn’t manage to stop this from happening? How are you already drunk? How did this happen?

A million questions are racing through my mind and my vision almost blurs with white hot anger as I imagine a slimy frat guy placing his greasy hands on you while you sit there, drunk and uninhibited in that dress that seemed to accentuate your every single curve. You look simply gorgeous in that dress and I fucking hate to think that other guys in this whole house may have made a pass at you. Why was I so late? Would I have been just a little bit earlier if tube top Meg didn’t stop me? I should have left the moment she decided to strike up conversation. This is my karma for letting other temptations get in the way. I vow to myself that this will never happen again as I extricate myself away from Meg’s clutches (“Hey! Where are you going?” She calls out and I ignore her).

I shove people out of the way and do not care for their protests and yelps. Fuck them and fuck this entire shithole of a house. I scramble through the door and maintain my distance as I follow you and your friends down the pavement and past the buildings within the campus. I watch and cringe as you seem to crumple under the weight of your friends’ arm and quickly realise that you aren’t drunk. Your friends are. Stupidly drunk.

I feel my heart relax and my stomach unclench. Of course, you wouldn’t be. You are good. And smart. Too smart to get drunk in a place like that. You know what are the risks and you are above such parties. Your friends though, I couldn’t say the same. Which brings me back to why you need better friends but that’s besides the point. I can see a few guys hanging at the other side of the street who leer at the group of you, clearly getting their dick hard at the thought of a group of vulnerable girls roaming these empty streets at night.

It’s dangerous. But that’s what I’m here for. They see me next and they look away.

I will do what I can to protect you, y/n. Even if that means protecting your good for nothing friends in the process.

All of a sudden, I see you trip and it’s like everything is in slow motion. You fall forward and I take long strides over, my legs stretching out and rushing to help you. Before your knees can hit the rough ground, I have you in my arms, encircled around your waist as I hold you up. I have your other friend, Haseul upright with my other hand tugging at the collar of her jacket. Your friend Tzuyu is not so fortunate and falls flat but she barely notices it, smiling tipsily to herself instead.

You glance up at me with those large eyes and I could get lost in them right there and then. But as quickly as we have our moment, you move away and I see a hint of suspicion in your eyes. We separate and the moment you extract yourself from my arms, I already want you back. Your touch feels addictive already. What have you done to me?

“Thanks.” You say curtly and I admire the fact that you have boundaries, not like Meg. You are hard to get and that’s what makes you so appealing. You are to be earned and respected.

You help Tzuyu to her feet and as you turn to leave with your friends, I call out, “is there any way I can help?”

You regard me with caution and open your mouth to reject me but then suddenly, the tenseness in your eyes relax.

“Do I know you?”

You remember me. Halle-fucking-lujah! I want to wrap you in my arms again but I play it cool.

“I… don’t…?”

Your eyes grow wide and the recognition seeps in.

“Wait! You’re from that hardware store right? Jaehyun?”

I pretend to be surprised when I’m actually fucking overjoyed.

“Yeah, wait… You’re that girl with the rope right?”

You laugh and it’s the most melodious thing I’ve ever heard in forever.

“Yup, that’s me. Kind of mortified that’s how you remember me but sure,” you say and your eyes twinkle but then you continue with a more subdued tone, “what are you doing here?”

I pat my chest good-naturedly.

“Friend of mine is a student here. I just came over to visit and he gave me his varsity jacket so I could try feeling like a college student for once. Never been to college so… yeah. I thought I’d like to try it out for fun.” I reply and shoot you an awkward smile, the kind you do when you try to get someone to favour you and think of you as ‘adorable’.

It works and you smile gently.

“That’s pretty cool, you’ve got a good friend.”

And you haven’t, I think but don’t say.

I gesture towards you and your friends.

“Need any help?”

You look at your drunken friends and back at me and I sense you thinking. Finally, you decide that you do need my help and chuckle, “We live right at that block over there and I think I might die halfway there. I’m not fit enough to hold 2 people.”

That’s so like you. So compassionate over friends who clearly didn’t give a shit that you didn’t want to go to some god forsaken party, so caring over friends who get drunk and don’t take responsibility, so helpful to take care of friends who literally do not give a fuck about you. You are not beautiful on the outside but on the inside too and as I loop Tzuyu’s arm over my neck and hold her, I wish I was holding you instead.

We amble over to the front of your block and we part, you thank me and we say our goodbyes and it’s all too soon. I want to be with you for longer, I want us to talk and I want you to invite me to your room but reality is often much less exciting and more boring.

“I’ll see you!” You call out, smiling as I walk away and I wave back, my heart soaring.

Today is a good day, I think and as I round the corner to the next street, I slip the keycard out of my pocket and feel the hard plastic under my finger.

Wasn’t difficult honestly. Your friends should really learn to keep their valuables in safe places, not the back pocket of their jeans.

#NCT-WRITERS #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #nct imagines #nct series #jung yoonoh #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun #nct horror #nct 127 #nct #nct scenarios #nct 127 horror #nct fics #nct 127 imagines #yandere jaehyun #nct 127 jaehyun #nct jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun series #nct jaehyun scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 series

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Xuexiao Goes to the DMV

Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen go to the DMV (aka Where Hope Goes To Die) and share a kiss.

That’s it. That’s the fic.

Xuexiao - T (just for some cursing) - Read on AO3!

*

“If you hear about someone going berserk in a DMV on the news, that’ll be me,” the mechanical text-to-speech voice reads aloud, and Xiao Xingchen turns to Xue Yang questioningly.

Xue Yang reaches over and turns the volume down on Xingchen’s phone. “Meant to send that to A-Qing.”

“Are we going to be escorted out? Again?”

Xue Yang grins and looks around the room. They’ve already been at the DMV for over an hour. Dozens of people are draped limply over the hard orange seats, eyes glazed, going down for the third time in a sea of government bureaucracy.

“Ticket 4352, now being served at window thirty-three,” announces the robotic voice over the loudspeaker.

“It would take an alien invasion to wake these people up,” Xue Yang says as a man in overalls shuffles past. “You should see these people. This must be what a lobotomy post-op recovery room looks like.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Like the world’s most incompetent deli, filled with zombie customers waiting to eat the brains of whatever the opposite of employee of the month is. Well, ‘brains.’ They work at the DMV, after all.”

Xiao Xingchen adjusts his sunglasses. “Let's not be mean.”

“And we can all hear you,” adds a woman on his left. “Not that it made much sense.”

Xue Yang makes a face at her and turns back to Xingchen. “If they make me come back a third time, I’m going to go postal. You know, going postal should be called ‘going DMV.’ It’s catchier, for one thing, and I’ve never so much as stepped foot in a post office—”

“I’m keeping you far away from post offices. Those poor people have suffered enough.”

“How so?”

“Well, there must be a reason they go postal, right?”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “If the post office has the same taste in music as the DMV, I don’t blame them. Who picked this station? If it’s not Justin Bieber it’s whoever inflicted ‘Kiss Me Through the Phone’ on the world. I’d like to do something to them through the phone, and it won’t be a kiss, I can tell you that much.”

Xiao Xingchen takes a Snickers bar out of the fanny pack Xue Yang has vainly begged him not to wear. “According to the television commercials, this will improve your mood.”

“My mood?” Xue Yang takes a bite. “If I have to hear ‘Baby’ one more time—”

“Ticket 9753, now being served at window fourteen.”

“ ‘Served.’ Ha. As if.”

Xiao Xingchen feels around for another Snickers bar but comes up empty. He should have planned this better. He’d sensed Xue Yang’s mood coming on last night as Xue Yang went through his documents. He’d been cheerful enough until he found his birth certificate in the bundle of papers he’d been given after leaving his last group home.

Then he’d grown strangely quiet, and wandered aimlessly around their apartment for an hour, carrying his phone around with him and switching between a half-dozen different YouTube videos before deciding to bake brownies at 1am and burning them when he got distracted playing video games. He wasn’t paying much attention to the video game, either, going by his cursing as he got repeatedly blown up by what Xingchen suspects was a twelve-year old somewhere in Japan, and eventually gave that up to go take apart their toaster in the interest of “fixing” it.

Now he sits beside Xingchen, jiggling his leg. Xiao Xingchen wants to ask him about his birth certificate, but he hadn't dared to last night, and doesn’t dare now.

“Ticket 9755, now being served at Window 26.”

“Weren’t you 9754?” he asks Xue Yang.

“Oh, crap—” Xue Yang jumps to his feet and rushes to Window 26, brushing past a mohawked man holding a ticket marked 9755. “I’m 9754.”

The woman behind the glass may as well have been carved from wood. “You missed your number.”

“There was no announcement!”

“Or your number isn’t working. It’s not showing up on my computer.”

“What the hell does that mean? I’m on the screen! Look!” Xue Yang jabs a finger at the screen above the booth. At the bottom of the list it reads Ticket 9754 – Window 26. “9754! Window 26! All you need to do is take my picture—”

“Get back in line. Get a new ticket. Window 13.”

“Get back in line?” He looks over at the line for Window 13. It wraps around the entire room. “I already have a number! I’m on the screen!”

“Back. In. Line.”

“Just take the damn photo—”

Xingchen lays a hand on his arm. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll get back in line.”

“Like hell we will! I’ve been here since 5 o’clock—I made an appointment! I even brought my own pen! You ever watch Monsters Inc.? You know Roz? Are you her evil older sister? Because you look exactly like—”

“Back of the line.”

“Younger sister, then. Happy?”

The woman doesn’t bother shrugging. “You’re blocking traffic.”

Xingchen begins to move, heading in the wrong direction. Xue Yang has no choice but to follow or else let him walk into a column plastered with posters emblazoned with, Make your visit easy - download the forms at dmv.gov! , Streamline your visit - make an appointment online today!, and We’re here to help!

“Let’s just go home,” says Xue Yang. ���The gray, water stained walls are starting to close in. At any second I expect a giant ball to roll towards us. Well, wrong movie—whatever. I’m sick of this place. It’s cursed.”

“We’re just going to have to come back, and you’ll have wasted the hour we already spent here.”

Xue Yang groans and gets in line behind a woman with three small screaming children. “This whole thing is stupid. We can barely afford rent, let alone a car."

"We will, one day. Besides, it's good to have a license."

"We’ll just take trains and buses everywhere, or you can learn to drive. We'll fudge the vision test."

Xingchen laughs. Xue Yang relaxes slightly at the sound. After a moment, Xingchen slips his hand in his. He’s not one for public displays of affection, but there’s an edge in Xue Yang’s voice that has nothing to do with his return to Window 13.

Xue Yang’s hand tightens in his, and Xingchen rubs it reassuringly with his thumb.

“You again?” says the woman at Window 13 when they finally make it there, twenty minutes later.

“That power-mad dictator at Window 26 wouldn’t take my picture.”

The woman tilts her head at Xue Yang. “She wouldn’t?”

Xue Yang tilts his head back at her, as if to say, I know! Who wouldn’t want to photograph me ?

She smiles, a synthetic smile that reminds Xue Yang of his friend Lan Xichen’s dimpled little fiance. “Strange.”

“ ‘Strange’? I knew she could have just done it had she wanted to—”

The woman blinks at him, her smile growing faker by the minute. “I’m sure what she told you was accurate.”

“Sure, and there is no war in Ba-Sing-Se—”

Xiao Xingchen squeezes his hand, and Xue Yang stops talking and passes her his form. She stamps it a second time and hands him another ticket.

He and Xingchen return to the waiting area. Xue Yang puts his boots up on the seat next to him, resting his head on Xingchen’s shoulder.

“Describe the room to me again,” Xingchen says, trying to distract him from his brooding and, with any luck, keep him from taking out his Swiss army knife and carving his initials into the seat and get them kicked out again. Xue Yang has a talent for describing things, and Xingchen has been trying to encourage him to start writing.

Xue Yang begins to play with his long sleek ponytail. “Purgatory’s antechamber. Humanity’s lost-and-found. A void where time has no meaning. Pit of despair and industrial cleaner.”

Xingchen chuckles, making sure it’s loud enough for Xue Yang to hear.

“If their posters were honest, they’d all be in Comic Sans font, with things like, Where hope goes to die; This is your home now; Nothing escapes our pull, not even time; Human sacrifices while you wait—”

“Human sacrifices?”

"Yeah, I think so."

A crackle of static over the speaker as a new song comes on. “You know you love me, I know you care...Just shout whenever and I'll be there….”

Xue Yang starts up violently, but Xiao Xingchen gently pulls him back down beside him. “Some kind of cannibal conspiracy?” he asks, hoping Xue Yang’s knife has remained in his pocket and is not seconds away from being embedded in a blaring loudspeaker.

Xue Yang settles back against his shoulder. “I’m positive Overalls Guy never returned from Window 17. He’s probably in the office barbecue pit.”

“This must go all the way to the top. Shift supervisor too, I’d guess.”

“Baby, baby, baby oh….Like baby, baby, baby no….”

Xue Yang stops playing with his hair and starts picking at his black nail polish. He’s feeling a bit better, Xingchen’s shoulder warm and solid. “I swear that Roz lady put a curse on me. They all probably dance in a circle around a stack of burning Social Security cards every night, chanting.” He squirms, suddenly bored. “You got any more food? I’m starving.”

Xingchen rummages in his fanny pack. “Just a burned brownie.”

“I swear I set a timer!"

The timer had gone off while Xingchen was in the shower last night. Xue Yang had simply ignored it, too absorbed in trying to virtually blow up his twelve-year-old nemesis. He tends to ignore timers while cooking, usually followed by a mad rush to the kitchen to salvage dinner. “You know dinner is ready when the smoke detector goes off,” he likes to say.

Xue Yang sniffs the crumpled foil surrounding the charred black brownie chunk. “Is this the same foil I wrapped your tuna sandwich in yesterday?”

“We only have one earth!”

“Xingchen, I swear—” Xue Yang stops, rolling his eyes fondly. He’s never met anyone who can be so annoying and endearing at the same time.

Xingchen takes the brownie back. “I'll eat it. I like the burned bits.”

"It's all burned bits."

"Exactly. Perfect."

“She knows she's got me dazing, 'cause she was so amazin'....And now my heart is breakin', but I just keep on sayin'....”

“Who wrote this? I swear I won’t hurt them. I just want their address.”

Xingchen knows he shouldn’t laugh at that, but he can’t help it.

They sit there for another half hour, talking. Xue Yang has succeeded in denuding the nails of his left hand when his number is finally called. He gets his photo taken by a man with glazed eyes and no chin, and is shuffled off to the next waiting area.

“They refused to show me my photo,” he says as they settle back down. “I swear the camera stole my soul and is using it to power the fluorescent lights. I feel at peace now. Kind of floating.” He discovers a piece of gum in his jeans pocket and begins to loudly blow bubbles, making full eye contact with the annoyed Bluetooth Guy and irritated Woman With Facial Tattoo Of Bugs Bunny. “I am one with the DMV demigods, part of something larger than myself.”

“Like joining the army.”

“Or drowning in the ocean.” He lays down with his head in Xingchen’s lap, boots on the edge of Bluetooth Guy’s seat. “Why does your fanny pack smell like patchouli? Have you been burning weird hippie incense again? You promised you’d stop after you set fire to your curtains.”

Xingchen would rather Xue Yang didn’t semi-cuddle him in public, but Xue Yang’s energy is calmer when he’s touching Xingchen, and he lets him stay. “It’s that new candle you bought me, remember?”

“Right. Bought you.”

“What do you—”

“I thought it was peppermint.”

Xingchen bites his lip. Xue Yang is…well, he can read well enough to pass a driving test, but his education was…slipshod at best. Next on Xingchen’s list is encouraging Xue Yang to get his GED.

“You smell like a music festival,” says Xue Yang. “I must have grabbed the wrong one in the store. I sniffed all of them. My picture is probably hanging beside the register of every Bath & Body Works in town: ‘Beware the Candle Perv’—”

“At least someone was willing to take your picture.”

Xue Yang laughs. Xingchen rests a hand on his chest, heedless of the people around them. He likes how Xue Yang feels when he laughs, his whole body shaking, making no attempt to hide his feelings. Xue Yang makes him laugh so often, it’s a special joy for him to return the favor.

They’ve been there almost two and a half hours when Xue Yang’s number is finally called. As if the DMV curse is kicking in again, the loudspeakers creep up another few decibels.

“Like baby, baby, baby no, like baby, baby, baby oh, thought you'd always be mine, mine….”

“Xue Yang—” Xingchen starts before Xue Yang can say anything.

“I know, I know. This is penance for my putting that egg in Song Lan’s shoe last week. The DMV knows all. The DMV was here before us, and will be here after we are gone. The DMV—”

“—The DMV will make us wait in line again, if we don’t hurry.”

Together they go to Window 10, where a drab little man sifts through Xue Yang’s documents. “Fifties, balding, completely dead inside,” Xue Yang whispers to Xingchen.

“I’m thirty-nine,” says the man in a monotone, not looking up, “and you’re missing a birth certificate. And what’s this stain on your Social Security card?”

“Definitely not blood.”

The man stares at him with eyes that, had his life force not already been sucked out of Xue Yang by an afternoon at the DMV, would have done the job. “Current passport, or birth certificate.”

Xue Yang hesitates, then slips a folded piece of pink paper under the glass partition.

The man unfolds it with the sterling speed of a drugged snail and spreads it over the counter. He lines up Xue Yang’s Social Security card, bank statement, and birth certificate, and examines them line by line as if he’s a Bletchley Circle analyst and Xue Yang’s documents are intercepted enemy transmissions.

He looks up at Xue Yang. “Is this a valid birth certificate? There are no parent names listed, and the date of birth has an asterisk—”

“I know what it has!”

“What’s your date of birth?” The man slowly pushes his chair back. “I’m going to have to get a supervisor—”

Xue Yang slams the counter. Xingchen lays a hand on his arm. It’s a miracle Xue Yang’s knife isn’t out. “Don’t you fucking dare! This is what they do when—just Google it, okay? I don’t know what day I was born, they just put whatever date they thought was accurate—”

Xingchen swallows hard.

He had known Xue Yang had grown up in foster care, but had assumed he had been given up by his parents as a child when they could no longer take care of him.

Not—not abandoned as an infant—

“And change the fucking station!” Xue Yang adds. “If I have to hear that stupid fucking song one more time I will go fucking berserk —”

The man’s dead-eyed stare intensifies. “Sign here,” he says after a moment, pushing a slip of paper at Xue Yang.

“You want my love, you want my heart….And we will never, ever, ever be apart…”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Xingchen asks as they step outside. The words sound hollow, and he wishes he had simply remained silent.

Xue Yang takes a deep breath. It’s almost cool out, a welcome change from the week’s heat. “Well, we escaped. Now we just have to get help for the others. Or do we abandon them to their fates? I vote we abandon them. You should have seen some of the looks I got. It’s like they never saw someone threaten a DMV employee before, something I’m willing to bet happens a dozen times an hour.”

Xingchen takes his arm as he begins to walk. It’s easier than using his stick in the crowded city. “Xue Yang…”

Xue Yang’s muscles tense beneath his arm. “What?”

“Nothing.” He bites his lip. He’ll have Xue Yang feeling better soon enough. “What street are we on? Turn in on 33rd.”

“What’s on 33rd?”

“Just let me know when we’re there. 33rd and 7th.”

“The train’s on 36th.”

“But the restaurant’s on 33rd.”

“The what?”

Xingchen wants to smile, but is afraid Xue Yang might take it the wrong way after what happened at the DMV. For someone who does his best to project an I-don’t-care attitude, Xue Yang is surprisingly sensitive.

“What’s today’s date?” He already knows the date, of course. It’s been on his mind for weeks now.

Xue Yang’s arm grows even stiffer. “Is this a ‘you-don’t-know-when-your-birthday-is-so-every-day-is-your-birthday’ thing? Because—”

“Not at all… Remember the day we met? You made fun of my shirt—”

Xue Yang frowns at this sudden change of subject, but goes along with it. Better than talking about that damn birth certificate. “It was white, and ruffled. You looked like an escapee from a high school production of Hamlet. What was I supposed to do?”

“You crashed a motorcycle not three feet from me. An unregistered motorcycle with stolen plates.”

"I bought you coffee to make up for it, didn’t I?”

“You had them put four sugars in my cappuccino. It was undrinkable.”

“One was a Splenda, and anyway I took you to dinner to make up for the coffee, didn’t I?”

“Pizza at one of those dollar-a-slice places you have to stand at a counter to eat. I paid for it.”

“And I paid for your kombucha, whatever the heck that is.”

“And I paid for the band-aids we had to go buy after you cut yourself after playing catch with your knife.”

“You were distracting me!”

“I was quietly eating my pizza.”

“The light reflecting off your shirt ruffles got in my eyes.”

“Four dollars for the band-aids. You insisted on Hello Kitty.”

“Spongebob was also on the table." He wrinkles his nose. "I've got about three-fifty in my pocket, if you want it. But what’s your point, exactly?'

Xingchen smiles. He enjoys winding up Xue Yang, and it’s by far the most effective way to distract him when he’s in a dark mood. “Just that you better not put extra sugar in the fondue.”

“The what?”

“A-Qing read me the dessert menu. Chocolate fondue with bananas, blueberries, pineapple, and cherries. Strawberries, too, I think, and marshmallows, maybe even non-charred brownies—”

Xue Yang stops walking. “Xingchen—”

Xingchen lets go of Xue Yang’s arm, takes his hand instead. Kisses him soundly, right there on Sixth Avenue.

“Forget your birthday," he says. "We have a new date to celebrate every year." He gives Xue Yang's hand a little squeeze and kisses him again. “Happy anniversary, Xue Yang.”

*

Liked it? AO3 👉👈

Ruffle shirt reference

Obviously, Xue Yang was simply distracted by how pretty Xingchen was.

#xue yang #xiao xingchen #xuexiao #mdzsnet #I finally write something not cursed that I can put in the tag! #uttterly plotless fluff #cql #the untamed #untameddaily

[tillxthexearthxstartsxtoxcrumble]

Bobby made a list of all the possible things that could’ve gone wrong that day. He was going to update it that night, once the show was done and they had rocked out the Orpheum. It started out great. The four boys woke up with hardly any sleep in them because of their excitement for the day, but nothing could kill their adrenaline for the day ahead of them. Even Bobby, who usually tried to hide his emotions, was almost all smiles that morning. They all got their parents to agree to let them stay the night in the studio. 

“Just think, later tonight we could have a manager and we could finally get big like we’ve always dreamed!” Luke said, being the band’s usual hype man. Reggie nodded,

“Yeah! Who knows what’s gonna happen tonight, but it’s gonna be a big night.” Alex smiled in response, but the band knew the fact that their entire future was almost riding on that night, it would make him more anxious than the rest of them. They were all anxious about it, of course, but they wouldn’t let it take away from their excitement in any way. 

“No matter what happens I’m sure everything will turn out good in the end.” Bobby tried subtly reassuring Alex, which didn’t do much, but Alex appreciated the attempt. 

“Yeah for sure.” he nodded. They knew he wouldn’t wanna ruin their fun with this, so they all shared a look and immediately knew what to do. 

“Hey, let’s go check out the area. Maybe we’ll be able to meet some fans!” Reggie got his big grin, opening the garage doors for them to start on their quest to calm Alex down at least in the slightest. 

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 1. An instrument could get damaged.

They ended up seeing some people already lining up outside the orpheum, waiting just so they could get good spots. All of their hearts felt like they were flying when they saw the sight. Alex actually got a real smile at that, not the one he gave them to make them feel better. 

“Luke, are you sure you wanna open with ‘Now or Never’?” Bobby questioned him, “It kinda feels like one we should save for last, y’know, to really blow them all away. It’s our song we always hear the most positive response to.”

“That’s exactly why we gotta start with it, man! We gotta show everyone how good we are, catch them by surprise and keep them on the edge of their seats. I don’t want them to just enjoy us at the end, we gotta keep them going the whole time!” Bobby couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s enthusiasm. 

“All right, fine, but if the crowd doesn’t seem as passionate about the rest, don’t blame me.” Reggie chuckled and put his arm around his friends.

“I say we go check out the area and see if we wanna get something to eat and we just kill time for a while before we go and rehearse.” 

~♧~

That’s what they did for a while, they ended up having a lot of fun and they managed to get their nerves set aside and that allowed them to get fully excited for the show later that night. 

“Hey, do any of you wanna hear my joke about the blunt pencil? Oh it doesn’t matter, it’s pointless.”  Bobby said, and he got an evil grin at the sound of his friends letting out an annoyed groan. 

“No, I want to hear it!” Reggie said excitedly, which only made his friends get more tired of them. 

“Reggie that-” at the look on Reggie’s face Alex just paused and sighed, “okay.” 

Luke decided to ignore the terrible puns going on and turned to his friends. “Hey, let’s go do that sound check- we don’t wanna not be ready for our performance.” 

~♧~

“You sure you don’t wanna go with them? I’m not sure you’ll be able to occupy yourself for two hours.” Rose smiled at him, 

“Nah, they’ll be fine. I’m not sure even they could fuck everything up in the time they go get food and come back.“  Bobby chuckled, trying to come up with more flirty lines but given his tendency to use terrible puns, he’s not exactly the best with flirting either. 

It had been almost an hour and a half since they’d left. Bobby knew it might’ve taken them awhile to find food and get it but it shouldn’t be taking them this long. 

“Bobby, I say we just go out and search for them. Maybe they lost track of time and we just need to go get them.” Rose suggested to the anxious guitar player. 

“No- No, they wouldn’t ever lose track of time. This means the world to them. They’ll be here. I know they will. Even if they died, they’d find a way to play the Orpheum.” Bobby started pacing back and forth. They both knew he was just trying to convince himself at that point, “They wouldn’t miss this.”

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 2.The equipment is messed up.

“Luke, R-Reggie” Alex croaked out, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain. They didn’t respond. Alex felt everything inside him stop. They were gone. The pain from the hotdogs weren’t even anything compared to the loss he felt. Alex screamed, his two best friends just died. He started coughing up blood, everyone around him trying to save the boy but knowing they couldn’t.

“Please, I don’t wanna die.” 

Bobby started getting a little upset at them for taking this long, they had missed the rest of rehearsal and they only had minutes before they were supposed to go on stage. Why were they taking so long?

“I don’t wanna go to hell.” He begged.

Bobby could hear everyone chanting just thirty feet away. They were late, he couldn’t go on without them. He felt everything in his body freeze up when he saw the doors open, he hoped it was them.

The last thing Alex heard was a thumping noise filling his ears, slowing down into nothing, and a scream. 

“Are you Robert?”

Bobby nodded, a wave of fear washing over him. He knew it would be bad but nothing could prepare him for why this man was here. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but.. You won’t be playing tonight.”   

“Alex Mercer, time of death at 10:24 PM”

Bobby stopped breathing for a moment, “What do you mean?”

Everything felt like a blur after that. 

“Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this.” the next words felt as if they were being said through a loudspeaker, as Bobby was underwater. “Your bandmates all passed away about half an hour ago.” 

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 3.One of them is late.

Bobby was completely calm with the next few words. “Why wasn’t I told right away?” It caught the officer off guard. He shifted, slightly worried at how easily this kid was taking the loss of his friends.

“We had to fix everything up and tell their parents-” before the officer could even finish, Bobby took his guitar off and smashed it right at his feet, which would have hurt like hell if he had cared enough to notice. Bobby was now shaking, but no one could tell if it was out of anger or pain. He had a look that they couldn’t read. He looked at the broken guitar, feeling a mix of dread and relief from doing that. By now, the crowd had started to get quiet after the loud crash of the guitar.

Still trying to stay completely calm, he responded “I’m sorry about that officer. I gotta go, now.” Bobby started walking off only to be stopped.

“We’re gonna have to take you in for investigation. We apologise, but we have to go down to the office.” Bobby paused for a moment, staring off into the distance before he burst into tears. He collapsed, and Rose rushed forward to help him. She’d still been in shock about the whole situation. Just hours ago, she flirted with people who are now dead. 

“I- I did this, didn’t I?” Bobby whispered to Rose, she felt her heart break. The officer got more suspicious, thinking this was some kind of act. To try and trick them, he confesses to the act and acts broken about it so no one truly suspects him. People can think that sometimes, when they aren’t the ones affected by the situation. 

“We’re going down to the office right now, if you try to resist I will have to arrest you. I don’t wanna do that to a kid, so let’s just go right now and we can get it all settled.” Bobby stood up, but he couldn’t feel his legs. The noise from earlier came back - like he was underwater, pushing up against the waves and trying to escape, but losing the fight. The officer held him by the arm and pulled him along.

~♧~

“Why didn’t you go with them to have the hot dogs?” Officer Smith asked. Bobby glanced at the voice recorder, still feeling like none of this was real.

“I stayed behind to talk with Rose.” He knew how stupid it sounded. They’d already gone over it but he was already interrogated and ripped apart by that. Bobby couldn’t believe how stupid it sounded, either. 

Officer Smith was clearly exhausted, he hadn’t gotten any real evidence so far and he tried doubling down on questions but it wasn’t working. He sighed, pressing stop on the voice recorder. 

“Alright, well, we’re gonna let you go home but we’ll have to schedule another interrogation.” Bobby yet again felt like he was pushed underwater. He wanted to say it was him, it was all his fault. He should’ve stopped them, but he didn’t. That might as well make him a killer. He wanted to scream at the officer, to tell him it was all his fault. “You should’ve stopped them”  he felt a voice whisper. That voice was him. Bobby knew that. But it didn’t hurt any less. Now the water he’s fighting against is a raging sea, and it’s pitch black out. He can’t tell which way is up and which is down. 

Bobby nodded, and got up to leave. As soon as he left the interrogation room, he felt free, though. He felt as if the moon was finally shining a light for him to see which way to go. He started running, he had to tell them about what just happened. How he got into trouble with the police, they’d be concerned but they’re the only ones he can see right now. 

He ran faster than he’d ever run in his life before, nearly getting hit by several cars. He saw a girl, she was sitting there in shock. He slowed down just a bit, he heard her muttering something about flirting with death. Bobby recognized her as one of the fans who was lined up outside the Orpheum earlier. He decided not to mess with it, he needed to see his friends.

Bobby was halfway home, and he started to go numb again. They won’t be there. Bobby shook those thoughts away, they would be there. They had to be. Maybe he just... imagined the last few hours. They haven’t even rehearsed yet.

As soon as Bobby opened the doors, he knew it was all real. The only thing he could see, was a dark, empty room. He collapsed to the ground, and this time, the numbness didn’t die down. 

The only way Bobby knew he was crying- no, sobbing at that point - was because his neighbor came out to see what had happened. So as soon as the old woman saw her neighbor sitting there, sobbing like he’d just lost the most important thing in the world to him, she had to see if he was okay. 

When she went up to him and tapped him on his shoulder, he didn’t even react. He was still crying, staring at the dark garage. 

Bobby was thinking of all he just lost. 

He’d lost Luke, the passionate writer of the group. Luke was the one in the first place to have come up with the idea of them being in a band together. Him and Luke had been friends since they were at least seven years old. He was there for Luke’s birthday when he first got his guitar, he remembered the excitement Luke had on his face. He was there for all of it, he and Luke worked together on a lot of songs. Luke, the one who would tease him and have fun with almost everything they did. Luke, who he let stay in his garage because his parents wouldn’t let him play music. 

Then there was Reggie, the sweet and innocent soul that Bobby had met next, they hadn’t been friends for quite as long but they got along really well. Bobby regretted every time he didn’t take one of Reggie’s offers for hugs, even if they were joke offers. He rarely wrote music with Reggie but he remembered hearing his country songs and country was never Bobby’s style but he definitely liked Reggie’s country songs. They held passion and happiness, it was Reggie’s escape just as much as it was Luke’s. 

Then there was Alex, the one who used to have a really good family life. He and his parents always got along, they always let him play music. They didn’t like the idea of him being in a band, but they never tried to stop him. Then he came out and all that changed. He was one of the most talented and humble people Bobby had ever met. He was kind and also the most sarcastic and snarky person Bobby had ever met. 

He’d lost them.

“Robert, are you okay?” He got snapped out of his thoughts as he looked at his neighbor with tears still streaming down his face. How could he be alright? His entire world just collapsed around him. He lost everyone he loved. But Bobby couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even open his mouth. 

He recalls a time once, when he was younger, at the beach. Before he met any of the guys. He’s surprised he even remembers a time before them - he’s known them for what feels like his entire life. He was always a good swimmer, growing up by the water, but being small and easily pushed over left him defenseless as a particularly strong wave pulled him under. He remembers feeling helpless. Wondering if he might drown. 

Sitting there, in the studio, he thinks that he might as well stay under and let the water fill his lungs.

The entirety of the next few months, that feeling stayed the same. He’d hardly spoken a word to anyone, so his parents made him go to a therapist, but they didn’t understand why he would look past him and mutter random words, why the parents said he talks to himself almost all day. Of course, they knew the boy had lost his best friends , but with how Bobby seemed to handle every other problem in life, they knew that this broke him. 

Bobby had to see his therapist at least once a week for many, many years. But Bobby never felt the same. Yes, he was freed of any suspicion under having killed them by the police. But he still felt like he was being pushed farther underwater by large waves, and he’d accepted that he’d never get out of that ocean.  

He changed his name, found new people, and even started to make music again. But he couldn’t write any new music. Nothing good, anyway. He couldn’t do it without his band, his family. Every time he released a song, he just felt more numb. More cold.

He felt moments of happiness, yes. He felt that with Olivia, who he was with for a long time. He had new friends. He had many, many fans. But somehow, none of it felt like it would ever change the fact that he lost his family. 

Only a few years later, he saw the sunlight. His little girl, Carrie. His hope, his joy. Olivia and him had split up, but he knew he could provide the best life for her. He might not be able to get out of the ocean, but he can see his way around now. It didn’t have to change his loss of his friends, it didn’t change his guilt, but he had something to live for.

 Maybe he could survive. 

Taglist: @nickalicious @futurearchaeologyprof @never-straight-no @queenmolina @suckerforpsychos @nervousmiracletrash @bluedarkness @queer-fandom-frog @bi-reginald @jelly-to-my-jam

You can thank @bi-reginald for the editing and some of the writing! 🖤

#Aight some of this is shit Ill admit #but I TRIED #jatp #julie and the phantoms #netflixwewantjatp2 #jatp fic #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #jatp angst #bobby bobbert bobberlicious the third #bobby jatp #jatp bobby #bobby nolastname #bobby angst #bobby wilson #trevor wilson #trevor jatp #carrie wilson

[nothing-but-dreamy]

ISEKAI

Pairing: FFXV! NYX ULRIC x GENDER NEUTRAL!READER

Words: 5.205

Warnings: none;

A/N: I'm sorry that this request took me so long. Mostly, because I really loved the idea. Therefore, I really hope you will like it. I had much fun to write it.

Summary: Because of a mysterious accident you land in Eos. Finding yourself in an unknown world, you're happy that you got help by someone. Nyx saves your life and quickly, he sees more in you than just a person who was in danger.

***

You were bored. Like, really bored. Your life was barely special before Corona had overtaken the world and now, with all the quarantines, restrictions and rules, the excitement was ... zero.

So, out of boredom, you started to clean your apartment. Every single corner. All of it. From your loudspeakers, random music was playing to cheer you up. Mostly soundtracks of everything you liked: Supernatural, Marvel, Dr Who, Game of Thrones, Lord of the Rings ... whatever there was in the gaming, movie or TV orbit drifting around, you probably liked it.

So, while you were humming with the latest tune of some triple A video game, you put the vacuum cleaner away to get a black cloth for a last task on your list before everything would be shiny again in your small apartment: the mirrors.

With slow, circling moves, you wiped over the reflecting surface. Your face was staring back at you. Mocking you. You and your boring life even without a pandemic. Sometimes, you even got the feeling of not being in the right place. That you should be somewhere else. That you belonged somewhere else. Where you would have friends and maybe even a partner…

Your eyes were taunting you. They reminded you of all the dreams you had in your youth. All the adventures you wanted to go on. All the exotic countries you wanted to visit. All the food you wanted to discover and yet, you were captured in a boring life, cleaning your apartment at 6 pm because you got nothing else better to do.

You looked into your own eyes, the cloth still touching the mirror as you whispered to yourself, "You know, it would be so great to be somewhere else. Just to be ... Away! Away! Away!"

***

"I hate these trips!", Libertus complained for the third time since they had passed the wall.

Nyx rolled with his eyes but stayed silent. He was still slowly polishing his blades. As he looked up, his eyes met the smirking expression of Pelna who thought the same as Nyx: 'cry-baby'

"Could you please shut up? Would you rather clean the training court instead?", Crowe asked, annoyed about Libertus' non stop whining.

"At least, it wouldn't be less dangerous.", Libertus argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

Crowe leant forward, supporting herself on her knees, "Oh, really? You remember the last time where we got charged with the cleaning task? Three barracks were burning, one was smoldering and the smell of smoke lingered in the Kingsglaive headquarters for three weeks.", she pointed out.

Libertus stretched out his arms as a question, "What? I just wanted to help and to dry everything faster!"

"Yes! With fire magic, god dammit! You're not the best with magic. At all. Just ... don't do that. This mission will be a bit ... easier, I hope."

Nyx' scoffed, "Please... What shall happen on a routine mission to kill some animals which are terrorizing the outskirts?"

Little did he know...

*

"Here kitty, kitty!", Pelna called out and tried to gain the attention of some Sabertusks that had been running into small woods.

"Seriously?", Crowe asked, crossing her arms with a frown on her face.

"What? Somehow we have to get their attention back or do you wanna run after them into the woods where the space is crap to fight against them?", Pelna argued.

Libertus stepped next to Crowe while Nyx was a bit closer to the woods and watched the scene closely. Somehow, it had become silent. Too silent for Nyx’ liking. Not one single sound was to be heard except the soft rustling of the leaves of some trees.

Then, he heard something in the distance but the bikerings of his friends were too loud, so Nyx couldn't locate the source of the sound or what it was at all. After another moment had passed, Nyx turned around with a stern expression, "Guys! Could you shut up, please? I heard something!"

"What did you hear?", Libertus asked and earned a rolling of Nyx' eyes.

"I don't know because you're still talk-", but Nyx stopped as he heard this voice again. This time it was louder and came from the nearby woods.

"Help! Anyone help me!"

"Have you guys heard it?", Nyx asked and stepped forward, closer to the voice. He still couldn't see the source so his eyes darted around to find it.

Pelna stepped to Nyx' side, "It came from the woods."

"Yes, but I can't see from where.", Nyx answered serious, drawing his brows together in concern. Running blind was a bad idea. Nyx still searched the area until a figure emerged from a bunch of bushes, running and stumbling forward.

Shocked, Nyx watched you. You were dressed in some casual, short clothes. It could be just something comfortable to chill or something to sleep with. But whatever it was, it wasn't suitable for someone who was out in the wild. So, the first impressions Nyx had about you were: reckless and … cute

"Help! Please, someone help!", you cried out once again while you stumbled forward, flailing with your arms to keep your balance. Four mean and vicious lonking beasts were chasing you. The animals were jumping out of the woods and caught up on you quickly.

This was enough for Nyx to react, "Guys! Take care of the Sabertusks! I will hurry to help them!", he commanded as he saw you falling to the ground, lying there in shock while waiting for the beasts to attack you. Without a second thought, Nyx threw his Kukri to your position.

Screaming and wheezing you crawled back over the ground, cutting deep into the palms of your hands with sharp stones. Backwards, you tried to create as much space as possible for the monsters with the ugly head, the sharp teeth and deadly claws.

Once again, you cried out for help as something appeared in front of you with a soft sizzling and a sound like fire cracking. You blinked for a moment and then, a man was emerging in front of you. He was surrounded by sparks and glitter. He knelt in front of you on one knee with burning scars in his face.

You cried out in surprise and fear, trying to crawl away from him but Nyx raised his hands to soothe you, "It's okay. You're safe now.", he said, trying to calm you but he still saw the panic in your eyes.

You crawled further till your back hit a huge rock, so your way was blocked. The guy looked back at something before he turned back to you. Obviously, he was pleased with what he saw because his expression was more relaxed than before. You noticed his incredible blue eyes and his handsome face. He looked strange with the hairstyle and the tattoos on his face. Strange but not scary, quite the opposite, which made it easier for you to calm down.

While putting away the Kukri, Nyx noticed that you became calmer even if your breath was still erratic. The pure panic became less and left were two beautiful eyes staring right back at him. Your whole appearance was eye-catching as he looked past all the dirt. Slowly, he crawled closer to you, "I won't hurt you. My name is Nyx. What's your name?", he said soothingly, stretching out his hand to you to show you that he was unarmed.

You calmed down by the sound of his warm voice and the sight of the smile on his full lips, "My... My name is YN.”

Nyx smiled softly as he heard your nice voice. As you shot him a weak smile, he felt his heart making a little jump because it was so beautiful. There was something on you he liked immediately. Quickly, he checked your skin but except for a few scratches and bruises, he couldn’t see any serious wounds, “Nice to meet you, YN. Are you hurt?”

You shook your head while moving your arms and legs a little bit to check on them, “I- I'm fine- ahhh!", you cried out in shock about the view of one of the mean beasts that had chased you as its head appeared next to Nyx'. You panicked and luckily, you passed out finally so you wouldn't notice how Nyx with the nice eyes would die before you would get killed as well.

As Nyx saw you passing out, he reached out for you, catching your shoulders before your head could hit the ground and placed your upper body on his lap. As you were secure, Nyx looked up and watched Libertus stepping closer with a dead Sabertusk body as a trophy raised in the air. He was covered in blood and had a big grin on his lips. Annoyed, Nyx sighed, "Great job, idiot.", Nyx said with you unconscious lying in his arms.

***

As you awoke, you found yourself in a room. It was grey, plain, simple and you were alone. Slowly, you sat up, your head was slightly spinning and a dull pain throbbed behind your temple but your vision became slowly clearer. As you looked around, your eyes landed on a neat folded pile of clothes. Your own were torn and dirty and so, you were thankful to change them.

While you dressed in plain black pants and shirt, you heard sounds coming from behind the door. You considered staying in the safeness of the room but your curiosity won. So, you sneaked out, looking left and right the hallway before you followed the undefined sounds.

After a few metres, you found yourself faced with the view of a courtyard. You were on the second floor and looked into a wide open area. There were men flying and jumping around, all dressed in black, uniform-like clothes. They were appearing and disappearing quickly. Someone started in one corner and landed immediately in another across the field accompanied with sparks and glitter. That you had seen this effect once before calmed you.

Like a circus show, the people were making flic-flac or somersaults. A thought struck you: maybe you got rescued by a bunch of acrobatics and the strange animals had been part of their show? You leant against the handrail to watch them excited.

Suddenly, a man, who stopped right in front of you, keeping himself steady with his hands on the handrail, brought you out of these deliberations and out of your fascination, "Oh, hey, sleeping beauty! Are you good?", the tall guy asked. But unfortunately, it wasn't the one with the incredible blue eyes.

"Libertus! Back to training!", someone called out in a harsh tone, commanding the man away from you.

"Sorry, I have to go.", and with that said, the man called 'Libertus', threw his blade and disappeared in a fog of sparkling stuff.

Still amazed, you watched the others and their 'training', leaning against the handrail with your arms again. As you got used to their tricks, you liked to watch them and how easy it seemed to move so quickly around.

So, as someone appeared next to you, you were startled about the sudden sound of an unknown voice. The owner was tall, with broad shoulders and dressed in a heavy outfit with leather and decorations, "Hi, good to see you awake. My name is Titus Drautos. I’m the Captain of the Kingsglaive.", he introduced himself seriously but calmly.

You frowned, "Kingsglaive?", you asked. You never had heard such a name.

"Yeah... They are the Kingsglaive.", Drautos said and pointed at the jumping figures, "How do you feel?", he asked, checking you quickly but your eyes were clear and there was no other sign of sickness.

"Oh, I'm feeling good again. Thank you.", you said politely, unsure if he wanted to know more but you also felt uncomfortable around him even if you couldn't say why.

"Is there anything I can do for you?", Drautos said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah, actually, I would like to speak with the man who saved me. I would like to thank him. I think 'Nyx' was his name?", you said carefully, watching the Captain’s reaction.

Drautos looked at you for a split second before he shrugged with his shoulders, stepping forward to the handrail, "Ulric!", he called out.

A few seconds later, you watched how a man appeared in front of you, emerging from sparks and glitter like on the field. This time, you were calmer and so, you were impressed how he did this. You never had seen something like this before. And once again, you noticed the glowing, fiery scars carved into his face and down his neck as he stepped in front of the Captain, taking position like a soldier.

"Yes, Sir?", Nyx said serious but already had caught sight of you staring at him. He was glad to see you awake and noticed you approaching with a curious glance. Your eyes were already distracting but Nyx tried to focus on his Captain.

"Since you were the one who had saved YN's life, I thought it would be just right if you would talk with them.", Drautos said serious, "Take care of them.", he said as if you wouldn't stay right next to him before he turned over to march away.

You stared after the tall man, "Actually, it wasn't his idea...", you said resentfully.

Nyx chuckled and closed up on you, "He seeks advantage from whatever he gets. Forget it. But I'm glad that you're awake again. You frightened me a lot as you passed out.", he said with a warm smile.

You chuckled shyly, rubbing the back of your neck, "Yeah...sorry for that. I never fainted before but on the other hand, I never was in such a scary situation."

"I know. Libertus can be frightening-"

"No! I meant this monster! I never saw something like this in my entire life.", you explained, shaking about the mere memory.

“You mean the Sabertusk?", Nyx asked, confused. Sure, not every Insomnian citizen knew all Lucis' animals or had seen them in real life but Sabertusks were so common that even the smallest kids knew about them.

"Saber- what? Nevermind. I just don't want to see any of this again."

Nyx chuckled, "Don't worry. Here in Insomnia, you're safe."

You tilted your head, "Insomnia?"

Nyx frowned and was concerned if you might have hit your head after all, "Yeah... Insomnia? The capital city of Lucis?"

You blinked several times because you had no idea what he was talking about, "Lucis? Is that a nickname for... Louisiana?"

Nyx stepped in front of you, looking in your eyes and checking your head but you seemed alright, "Amnesia, huh? Well, I guess this will be over soon. I'm sure it's coming from the shock. You're hungry?", he asked hopefully to be able to spend more time with you and watched how a broad smile spread on your lips.

"I'm starving!", you answered.

"Oh, no! Don't do that! Drautos will yell at me if I won't take good care of you.", he joked and showed you the way out of the headquarters.

As you stepped out of the building, you had no idea that the time for questions and wonders had just begun.

Nyx passed the entrance mindlessly and walked down the few stairs but as he couldn't hear you following him, he turned around just to see you staring at the skyline with big eyes. It was this moment where Nyx noticed two things:

First, the astonishment you showed as you looked at all the buildings and at the sky with the magical wall wasn't just an act and second, Nyx realized that he was attracted to you.

It was the second point that surprised Nyx the most. He barely knew you. He had just met you and still, there was something on you. He had felt it back on the field. Something he couldn't put a finger on. Were it your eyes? Or the way you looked at the surroundings as if you had never seen any of all this before? Or was it the way you looked at him?

Nyx thought about it like a magical aura that surrounded you. There was something on you he couldn't quite understand but he was eager to find out what it was. Amused but at the same time attentive, he watched you stumbling down the few stairs because your eyes were still directed at the sky. Nyx caught you at the last moment and shook his head with a grin, "Watch out, YN. Don't walk around so mindlessly or you will hurt yourself.", he whispered.

You noticed your cheeks redden, mostly as you felt Nyx’ strong hands on your body and how close he was, but as your eyes met his you saw the grin on his lips, "Usually, I'm more cautious but- have you seen the sky? It… Is it sparkling? It looks as if sparkling waves are spreading over the city…", you breathed, looking up once again.

Nyx looked from you at the sky and back at you before he placed you back on the ground, "Y-yeah… it's kinda sparkling. That's the magic of the crystal. The crystal which secures this city through the King's power?", he added as he saw your puzzled expression.

"Y-you… this city has a King? And a magical- what? A wall?"

"Very funny!", Nyx called out and laughed. He thought you would make fun of him but as you still stared at him with no amusement, he frowned, "Where do you actually come from?"

"Oh, I'm from New Jersey.”

“Never heard about it before. Come on, let us get something to eat and then we talk a bit.”

*

"What the hell is this building? Is this a church?", you asked, pointing at a building with two tall towers where something shot into the sky from the middle of the building, "This smoke looks … strange.", you pointed out.

This was the tenth question of that kind you had asked during the last five minutes. Nyx stopped in his tracks and looked at you, "It's the Citadel. The castle?", he tried to trigger your memories as you showed no reaction, "The 'smoke' you see there is actually the energy from the crystal that creates the wall. I told you about it before."

You nodded slowly, "Yeah… the crystal… You have some crazy stuff here.", you said, impressed, chewing on some spicy meat you had picked from a stick.

Before Nyx could react, he got a call and asked you to wait, "Ulric. Yes, Sir. Yes, we're still in the city. No, Sir.", he answered the questions asked by Drautos while he watched you wandering around. Nyx kept you in sight but was also fascinated by the way you looked at all the different things around you. He wouldn't call it naive but it seemed as if you were easily impressed. You found something interesting in the smallest things while Nyx caught himself by thinking about you as cute and … lovely.

Another question of Drautos brought Nyx back to reality and he realized that he stopped listening to his Captain a while ago, "Yes, Sir. I'm listening. Of course. Yes, I will take care of YN. Yes. Bye-", but the Captain already had hung up, "Good day to you, too, Sir."

As you noticed that Nyx was done with his call, you joined him again, "What was the matter? Are you in trouble?", you asked, concerned because you had hogged Nyx for quite a while.

"No, everything's good. It was just Drautos. Obviously, you're stuck with me a bit longer. I got the orders to look after you.", Nyx answered with a soft smile as he saw your worried expression which changed into a huge, charming, heart-stopping smile.

"Great. I still have a bunch of questions.", you said excitedly, linking your arm with Nyx' to wander further through the Crown's City.

***

But not just you had a lot of questions. Nyx too. In the beginning, he thought you would make fun of him as you asked so many things about the best known facts of Eos everyone actually knows.

But quickly, after Nyx had asked you a bunch of questions on his own, he realized that you weren't joking. Sure, as you told him that you came through a mirror, because you had been fallen through it, sounded more like a bedtime story for kids but you spoke about everything with so much conviction that Nyx believed you.

The Captain, slightly concerned about your state because Nyx had told him about his suspicion that you could suffer from amnesia, asked on a regular basis if Nyx had any new information about you. And not for one second, Nyx thought about telling him the truth.

He said neither something about your journey through the mirror nor about your life in New Jersey. That you knew nothing about Eos at all because this was simply not your world. He kept it all a secret.

Because Nyx felt the urge to protect you. Whenever he was with you in the past week he felt good. As if just your presence was able to lift his spirit. You were funny, curious and interested in him and in this, for you, new world. Nyx already liked you. A lot. It wasn't just attraction anymore, rather he really started to like you on a more emotional level even after this short of time. But he had no idea how you were thinking about him.

So, by the end of the week, Nyx collected as much courage as he could find, "Hey, uhm… Libertus and the others are meeting at Yamachang's. You… Do you wanna come with me? I- I mean us?", he asked and felt nervous. The whole week, he had been with you with no problem and now, he felt nervous because this question didn't belong to the Captain's order anymore to take care of you. For him, it was far more.

You saw the hope in Nyx’ eyes and the insecurity in his expression about what your answer would be. The past week, you had spent a lot of time with Nyx. You got to know him. His life as a Glaive. As a refugee. You had learned about his deceased family and his life in Galahd. And, not very surprisingly, you started to like the soldier with the greyish hair and the incredible blue eyes. For you, it was extremely hard to resist his charm and his handsomeness. And in the end, you didn’t want to resist him. You just had no idea how he thought about you.

You tried to get closer to Nyx so many times. You wanted to show him in a subtle way how you felt. Maybe, this invitation would give you the opportunity to make a move on him, "I would love to come with you.", the slowly growing smile on Nyx' lips gave you the sense to have done things right.

*

"YN, it's good to see that you're alright again.", Pelna said and gave you a drink.

"Yeah… Nyx did everything to bring me back on track.", you said and winked at Nyx who smiled shyly.

"The Captain already complained you two were just sightseeing all the time.", Crowe said jokingly.

You chuckled, scratching the back of your neck, "Yeah… I guess, the amnesia had hit me harder than I thought."

Nyx looked at you with a frown. After you had told him your story, he was sure you were okay. No amnesia or something like this. So, why were you sticking to this story instead of telling the truth?

"Oh, so, you remember where you come from and stuff?", Libertus asked.

You smiled at him, "Yes, of course.", you answered. Quickly, you checked on Nyx who still watched you. Were you seeing cautiousness in his eyes? Was he afraid of what you would say? You looked back at Libertus, "I come from Altissia. I was moving to Insomnia for a new job. As you found me, I was on my way but unfortunately, I had an accident with my car and then, the horrors with all these creatures started. You have to know, Altissia is built on water. We don't have such wildlife as Lucis has."

Nyx stared at you speechless. You were lying. Lying about everything. Effortlessly. But everything you said were things you knew from him. Nyx showed you a map of Eos. He told you as much as he knew about Lucis and Accordo. About all the differences he could remember. You turned your head and smiled softly at him. You even winked at Nyx and he saw in your eyes that you would explain it to him later.

*

You and Nyx walked side by side as you left Yamachang's a few hours later. The Crown's City was still buzzing. People were walking to bars, clubs and restaurants. You turned your head over to Nyx and because he was unusually quiet, you nudged his shoulder with yours, "You think they bought my story?"

Nyx looked at you with an unreadable expression, "You were lying."

"Yes and I hated it. Trust me. But what else should I say? The truth? That I fell through a mirror and landed here? Instead that I woke up in my bed in New Jersey, I awoke in an old hunters hut in the middle of nowhere?", you pointed out softly.

Nyx nodded. He understood your point. He was barely able to understand all this but he had accepted it. You had spoken so detailed about your home that there was no way that everything was just made up. But to explain everything to his friends would be maybe too much.

Suddenly, a thought struck his mind and he was surprised that he didn't have thought about this earlier. Carefully, he looked at you, "Do you miss it? Your … home, I mean."

Your brows shot up because you realized that you were barely thinking about your former life, "Actually, I uhm…", you whispered, searching for the right words, before you looked at Nyx and stopped. You had reached the plaza of the Citadel. You looked at the stream of magical power and at the beautiful sparkling light. The moon was already up and together it was a captivating view. You looked back at Nyx who waited patiently, "To be honest, I have barely thought about it since I've been here."

Nyx stepped closer to you. It was a moment that could change things and he felt it. Maybe it was silly to think about a future with someone he knew for just one week but here he was, looking into your enchanting, sparkling eyes and watching how your teeth were digging into your lower lip, "If it would be possible, if there would be a way, would you… go back?"

You also stepped forward with a pounding heart in your chest. For one week, you asked yourself how Nyx' lips would taste, how his hands would feel on your skin when he would want you and how soft his hair really felt between your fingers, "You know, as I was in this hut, before you found me? I tried to find a way to get back. Now, I think things might have changed.", you whispered.

Nyx' pulse quickened as he saw your breathtaking smile, "What has changed? I mean, this is not your world.", he said softly, stroking with the back of his hand over your cheek before he cupped your face carefully, "There's nothing that would keep you here.", he whispered.

You leant against his warm hand, even inhaling his scent, "For me, there would be a reason … rather… someone… to stay here.", you said, looking at Nyx in a certain way to tell him that you meant him. As you let your hands slid underneath his jacket, stroking over Nyx' chest, feeling him tensing, you saw that he understood, "But I- I'm not sure what this someone might think of it if I would want to stay.", you said meaningfully.

Nyx was nervous, excited and jittery at the same time. It had increased since you had started to touch him softly. Your affection gave him the courage to snake his other arm slowly around your waist to pull you closer, "You know, you have nothing to fear about this someone’s reaction. He would be more than happy to keep you here.", he breathed, nudging playfully your nose with his with a shy smile on his lips.

You mimicked his smile. The moonlight was sparkling in Nyx’ mysteriously glowing eyes which kept you in their spell, "Y- you're so sure about it?", you whispered.

Nyx nodded slowly, still looking into your eyes, "Yes, I am sure. YN, I… I'm falling for you. There's no doubt how I'm feeling about you. It's crazy because we just met one week ago but … you're so beautiful. And so amazing. The way you're interested in all these new things. How you look at everything … how you look at me… I wouldn't stop you if you really want to go back home but I… I would love to be the reason for you to stay here. With me."

You snaked your arms around Nyx' neck, pulling him closer, "You're the best reason I could ask for.", you breathed against his lips before you closed the gap finally.

Nyx responded to your move and kissed you deeply. His fingers found their way into your hair while he caressed your lips with his. The grip of his arm around you got even stronger to have you close while you played with his hair in a teasing way. He was overwhelmed by all the things he felt by just kissing you. No matter where you had come from, that you were there, with him, that you even existed was everything for him.

Under the magical, white moon of Lucis, Nyx gave you an unspoken promise. He wouldn't let you go. Never. From the beginning, you were more than just someone whose life he had rescued. You were what he had missed in his life all the time. He had been searching for something that had been out of reach. But obviously destiny meant it well and you had been falling into his life like a miracle. Literally. And Nyx would treat you like this. With his lips, he sealed this promise to you.

For the first time in your life, you felt as if you were in the right spot. You weren't misplaced anymore. You even had found people that already cared for you. You had found someone who wanted to keep you in his life. Maybe you should feel sad for leaving your former life just like that. Maybe you should feel lost because this wasn't your world. But in fact, you felt home. As Nyx kissed you, he showed you a future you never thought you would have.

For the first time, you felt excited for all the unknown things that were lying in front of you. You would discover all of these things. With Nyx by your side.

#nyx ulric x female reader #nyx ulric x gender neutral reader #nyx ulric x male reader #final fantasy nyx ulric #kingsglaive nyx #ff15 nyx ulric #nyx #nyx ulric x reader #nyx ulric #final fantasy xv #final fantasy kingsglaive #male reader #female reader #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader

[still-a-morosexual-help]

OBEY ME! LESSON 56 DETAILED SUMMARY AND DISCUSSION/THEORIES

*I wrote this days after the lesson was first posted and never bothered to go back and edit it so meaning there will be me theorizing about the next lesson as well

*I write a small para for each chapter and I write it immediately after finishing that chapter so there’ll be theorizing about the next chapter too

*I swear more than usual here

*Some of the dialogue is heavily plagiarized and a few is lifted directly from the story, the game is to figure which is which.

*Summaries and Discussions/theories for all the other lessons can be found on this blog under #obey me spoilers or #my theories or #my headcanons

This has one locked lesson cause of course it does

Belphie’s upset that their names got called on the loudspeaker as if they were the lost children and not Diavolo. MC says the others won’t let them ever live this down if they found out and Belphie says he’ll be teased for centuries. Belphie tells a story about how he once got lost in the Celestial Realm and spent hours in a tree crying, MC asks why he was on a tree, and he says cause he thought he’s be able to see the direction of the celestial palace from there. It had eventually been Raphael who found him and he ended up taking a liking to the tree so he would climb it and nap up there whenever he wanted to avoid work. MC asks whether he like Raphael. Belphie says he never thought about it either way but that Raphael always looked like he had it rough (course he did – he had to try to get Belphie and his brothers under control cause Lucifer was much more lenient those days. I’ve mentioned this before but I’m certain that Lucifer blames his leniency as what got Lilith killed and that’s why he’s unreasonably strict with the brothers now) MC asks what Raphael was like – he says he worked hard for little reward and his job was looking after Michael’s needs no matter how unreasonable (and they really are the Lucifer and Diavolo of the Celestial Realm aren’t they!?). He was meticulous and methodical and he always had a sullen, irritated look making him always seem like he was in a bad mood. And his evil eye looked so evil you could almost mistake him for a demon. Belphie says he hasn’t seen him in a ling time and wonders how he’s doing. Belphie says all this with a smile on his face and this is the first time we’ve heard someone talk about Raphael in a positive light and this supports my theory that Belphie sees the Celestial Realm in a more positive light than the others probably do (which is why he irrationally directed all his anger at the humans). I’m also 10% certain the person Simeon was meeting with was Raphael not Michael cause I don’t think we’ve heard Belphie mention Michael once so it makes sense that they would have him recognise the angel he would later talk about. They get to the desk and Belphie goes to give their names but MC cuts in with ‘snoozy’ before he can say his. The employee comments on the name and Belphie blushes and says it’s embarrassing and asks MC to stop laughing about it. The employee gives them the note which happens to be a ransom note. Lol this guy is fucked.

Belphie complains about Barbatos failing to teach Diavolo not to walk off with strangers (in my very first theory/headcanon posts I compared Barbatos and Diavolo’s relationship to the one between Alfred and Bruce Wayne and I completely stand by that. I think Barbatos is significantly older than Diavolo the same way Lucifer’s significantly older than his brothers and similar to Lucifer and his brothers I think Barbatos had a hand in raising Diavolo. Given that we now know that Barbatos might have powers that rivalled the demon king it’s possible that he may be as old as him, or just slightly younger, than him as well. Tldr; Barbatos gives off heavy Alfred Pennyworth vibes). Belphie doesn’t want to deal with this and MC says they can’t just ignore it (also they will be murdered twice over if they do) and Belphie says he knew they’d say that and agrees to humour this stupid fucking human. He says he doesn’t wanna get tortured by Lucifer and Barbatos but the idea of going and rescuing Diavolo like one of his good little pawns makes him sick too. They head to the circus tent and are greeted by a happy and beaming Diavolo sitting on a chair with a man holding a gun to his head and demanding money (what a fucking amateur ass kidnapper at least give ‘em time to go and get the money! What you think people just walk around with wads of cash in their pockets!?) Belphie ignores him and scolds Diavolo for just waiting around for them to come get him and for leaving them in the first place. The man panics and tells them to stop moving closer unless they want him to shoot Diavolo. Diavolo also ignores the man , apologising and saying with a bright smile after the ride he was feeling sick and this man stopped and checked he was alright. Diavolo calls the man considerate cause he promised to help diavolo find the two of them and look! He kept his promise! Bsdjfjibvdmck this poor fucking kidnapper… Belphie groans and asks Diavolo if he even realises what’s going on rn and says even after being from a royal family he can’t be this sheltered and oblivious. The man’s just getting more stressed at how no one here seems to care about him as he keeps screaming about being serious and blowing Diavolo’s head off his shoulders (This poor guy – even MC who’s lived the most normal life from the three of them has faced more threatening life or death situations to give a shit). Belphie just tells the man to shut up with the most bored expression on his face. He then transforms into his demon form resulting in the man screaming his head off. Belphie just tells the man he talks too much, casually asking if he should make it so that no one has to ever listen to the man run his mouth again. The man stutters, calls Belphie a monster and tells him to stay back and panicking points his gun at Belphie. MC either using their very on magic creates a wind (called ‘wind of protection’) strong enough that it stops the bullet when he shoots or a raging fire (called ‘fire of judgment’) that takes over the bottom of the screen that’s powerful enough that it actually melts the bullet mid-flight and then rushes to the man making him scream and making the whole screen flash red (I had a moment of ‘HOLY MOTHERFUCKING SHIT DID MC JUST BURN A MAN ALIVE!? DID ALL THIS LEAD UP TO MC COMMITING MURDER!? WHY AM I LOWKEY EXCITED!?’) but no the guy’s still alive, I think the fire just made him move back from all of them. (but can we talk about how powerful MC’s own magic is and how it seems to be at its most powerful when they’re protecting the people they love? (like when they unconsciously counteracted all the curses in the reaper’s cave that should have killed the brothers, or when they saw Satan use a healing spell once and were later able to effectively use it on Mammon later despite the fact that the were having trouble picking up the spells Satan was actually trying to teach them). The man screams asking what the two of them are (ajfkjfcijzh didn’t Solomon say just last lesson that they were supposed to keep this all secret!!!!???) Belphie says bullets can’t actually harm him but he still smiles and thanks them. Diavolo seemingly in shock says that the man fired his gun at Belphie and that he was trying to hurt Belphie (despite the fact that Diavolo knows a gun wouldn’t hurt Belphie it’s the fact that the man didn’t know that and had the intention to hurt Belphie that sticks with him and I think that means a lot), A pale purple aura starts swirling around him and he instantly transforms into his demon form, looking furious and screaming “HOW DARE YOU…!” The man screams.

The man drops his gun and runs away. Diavolo says, serious for once, that they can’t let him run away and that he’ll contact Barbatos to get the royal army and – (bro you’re gonna start a war bro chill), Belphie says he can’t bring the army here he might accidently bring about the destruction of the humans (funny how a couple yrs ago Belphie would have been all for this plan) and Diavolo looks sad saying he can’t just let this go. MC and Belphie both get Diavolo to try and calm down, with Belphie telling Diavolo he wasn’t hurt and transforming back to his human form, before saying that Diavolo didn’t need to transform as well & that if Lucifer and Barbatos find out Belphie’ll get in trouble. Diavolo transforms back and says the man tried to harm a dear friend and he couldn’t help but get angry. Belphie blushes and can’t come up with words. MC teases Belphie asking if he’s blushing and he denies it while still blushing. Diavolo also notes that he’s flushed and is worried that it’s a sign that he’s been hurt somehow. Still blushing Belphie says he’s not hurt and to stop worrying about him and that they should leave. Diavolo says since they’re here at the circus tent they should watch the circus perform since Belphie likes human world circuses.  Belphie’s surprised and asks Diavolo how he knows that, Diavolo says Lucifer told him a long time ago, Belphie asks why and Diavolo says when they’re alone Lucifer talks a lot about his brothers, specially Belphie (Lucifer also has random pictures of his brothers that he takes without them knowing as they go about their daily life… This man is such a proud dad. He pulls out his wallet and a whole roll of pictures unfold all the way to the floor and across the room and he’ll tell the story behind each picture to anyone who listens.) He’s also told Diavolo about Belphie’s favourite tree in the Celestial Realm and the story of how he found that tree. Back then Lucifer always thought whenever Belphie wasn’t with his siblings he’d be up in the tree napping or down in the human world watching the circus and that’d made diavolo determined to see the circus too. Diavolo then asks if they can see the circus together. Belphie’s still shocked but then he blushes again and agrees. Inside Belphie and Diavolo are both clinging to MC as they cheer, scream and argue about the safety of the trapeze artist. MC can ask Diavolo if he wants them to cover his eyes cause he’s scared for her safety despite Belphie telling him there’s a net, ask Belphie if he wants to hold their hand cause he’s just as nervous or excited or comment to no one how they’ve got a demon attached to both their arms.

It’s night out and as a reward for coming to get Diavolo Belphie was allowed to pick all the rides they went on, Diavolo looks like he’s gone through hell, stuttering and asking if that was all. Diavolo asks how MC’s doing they say they threw up in a bin and are feeling better now (or they can say they had fun) Diavolo says he threw up in so many bins he lost count. He asks if they should head home and Belphie says there’s one last thing he wants to ride, Diavolo starts stuttering again. Belphie says it’s the ferris wheel, Diavolo’s shocked and asks if it’s cause Belphie remembered him saying he wanted to ride it, Belphie tries to deny it but Diavolo doesn’t buy it – instead he smiles brightly and gushes about how nice and sweet Belphie is which makes Belphie blush and demand him to stop. Diavolo marvels at the lights from up in the ferris wheel and how they look like stars, Belphie says he’s getting too excited. Diavolo ignores this and points out his hotel and the brothers’ manor. Belphie says he sounds like a child and Diavolo laughs and says that Lucifer says the same. Diavolo, while still smiling, says that in a way he is a child, a child who spends his time alone and never gets to do anything interesting (and holy shit that’s sad – he really did grow up alone in that huge castle…) Belphie doesn’t know what to say to this and Diavolo asks what’s wrong. Belphie says he’s surprised cause he never knew Diavolo saw himself that way. Diavolo laughs and says he never expected Belphie to treat him with kindness and Belphie asks what kind of heartless monster did Diavolo imagine him as (look despite all the shit I give Belphie I do really love him but also I mean…. He does kinda make it known how much he dislikes diavolo…) Diavolo laughs it off, he says today he learnt things about Belphie that even Lucifer hadn’t told him and that there’s probably a lot about Diavolo that Belphie doesn’t know about either. Diavolo says he knows they’ve had there differences, specially cause Diavolo had his position to consider and that he had been very strict with Belphie in the past and that he still doesn’t consider that a mistake (YES!! FINALLY!!) and that despite all that they were still able to get along well today, he thanks MC for their help in bringing them to this point. They say they didn’t even do anything special, Belphie says that he agrees with Diavolo and that they did help. Diavolo says he wants to talk more with Belphie and if Belphie agrees nothing would make him happier. Belphie’s silent for a bit before he slowly agrees. Diavolo thanks him and says there’s one more place he wants to drop by.

They end up at the brothers’ place. Asmo welcomes them back, Diavolo says “I’m home!...just kidding pardon the intrusion” AND you just KNOW this man wishes he wasn’t kidding and that he could really live with all of them. Asmo asks how his day went & Diavolo says he had fun. When beel asks Belphie says he’s really tired. Asmo invites Diavolo to stay for dinner, saying Lucifer & Barbatos are cooking. Diavolo says he’ll go and help them but Belphie makes him sit down and tells him to relax after the day they had. Diavolo beams and thanks Belphie for worrying about him and Belphie blushes and tries to deny it, saying that since him & MC aren’t helping if Diavolo goes to help it’ll just make them look bad. Diavolo says he actually wants to help and that the other two can wait here (hey Lucifer and Barbatos are Diavolo’s closest friends right? And you tend to tell your closest friends everything that happens… MC & Belphie are so fucked). (this next interaction has such strong sibling vibes? Like I’m telling you I’ve had this exact same conversation before) Levi & Mammon seem to find the whole interaction between the two of them interesting and make noises about it, when Belphie asks them what, Levi says it’s nothing and Mammon asks how it went. Belphie says they went to a park and now they’re back. Satan says the others meant how it went with Diavolo. Belphie says like he said before there was nothing to it. Asmo says the interaction between the two of them says different and Satan agrees. Beel congratulates him and Belphie blushes and says he has no idea what they’re talking about. Mammon then asks MC if there were any problems, if they wondered off and got lost. MC either denies it so harshly it’s immediately unbelievable or says no…not really. Levi asks what ‘not really’ means. Belphie asks Mammon why he asked that and if he remembered the time he got lost in a park. Beel also then remembers that. Mammon says he’s not the one that got lost and that it was the twins. The three of them then argue about who really got lost. Asmo tells them to each say their side of the story. Mammon had been playing darts when the twins disappeared and he’d ended up searching all over for them and he’s been really freaked out. The twins say they went to buy soft serve and when they came back Mammon wasn’t there and they ended up going around finding him. MC, Satan and Asmo says it sounds like all 3 of them fucked up. Diavolo then calls them for dinner. (This whole arcs gives me ‘taking your new partner’s kid who hates you on a day out so that you can bond’ vibes with MC there solely to act as the buffer)

During dinner they talk about their day at the park, apparently they rode the freefall of death thrice in a row and Belphie happily tells Diavolo that next time they go they should ride it again. Diavolo very obviously reluctantly agrees to, which Mammon points out. Diavolo said he did enjoy it but next time he wants a break between riding it over and over again. Belphie says it wouldn’t be a marathon if they took breaks. Diavolo says next time they should all go together and maybe even try out a different theme park. Levi suggests a space themed park with another insane ride that tries to kill you, Mammon reads the description of the ride and immediately nopes out. Satan teases Mammon for being scared which he protests to, Beel asks for a place with good food, Levi says he was waiting for Beel to say that and Diavolo happily laughs and after being alone for so long a lively dinner like this full of people he cares about who care about him in turn was probably something he always wanted. After dinner in the warmly lit music room Barbatos brings Lucifer coffee, Diavolo and Satan are playing chess, Levi is rambling to Asmo about the game he and Diavolo were playing and Asmo happily tells him he has no idea what he’s talking about, and Belphie asks to talk with MC. He tells them despite how much he initially complained he had fun and he thanks them, they say they’re happy things turned out well. He says he never thought he would end up feeling like this. Lucifer then calls the both of them to him. He says they did well today and seeing the relaxed way Diavolo’s getting along with the others like there’s no tension between them is a relief. He thanks them. Belphie smiles as he says that Diavolo looks like he’s having fun with the others. “By the way…” Lucifer says with a smile ‘Diavolo told me about what happened today you little fucks’ (told you he’d snitch to Lucifer) Belphie’s shocked and speechless. A purple aura starts rising off Lucifer as he smiles sweetly at them, “Perhaps you’d like to explain to me exactly what happened?” “DD! …Why’d you have to tell him!?” screams Belphie before he accepts his fate and the screen goes black.

MC leaves the house to walk Diavolo and Barbatos to the street to drop them off, for which Diavolo apologises for troubling them. Barbatos says he could have ordered a car to come right up to the door of the house (Barbatos pls read the room!) and Diavolo says he doesn’t mind catching a taxi from the street. Barbatos is silent and contemplative for a moment before he says he forgot to tell Lucifer something and heads back inside (he read the room!). When they get to the street Diavolo worries cause Belphie had seemed really pissed when they left, he says when Belphie told him to keep it a secret he’d genuinely thought Belphie meant the picture they took together. He assumes Belphie told him not to tell about the ransom right after he told him not to tell about the picture but Diavolo had been so thrilled by the picture he hadn’t processed most of what Belphie said. He worries he messed up all the progress he made during the day. MC says though Belphie’s mad now he’ll get over it in time. He’s still worried that next time Belphie won’t be as willing to talk to him like he did today (he was still calling him DD though even when he was pissed so I don’t think it’ll be a problem. I hope they keep up the nickname Lucifer will hate it and that at least should be incentive for Belphie to keep using it). Diavolo says he had a lot of fun today and that he’ll never forget it. He goes on to say that growing up he lived a very sheltered life and that he’s never felt more free than he did today, though the ride was too much for him. He says even thinking about it makes his hands shake and he shows them to MC. MC can either take his hands or do nothing. If they take his hand he blushes and says it’s strange but that made him calm down. He says he wants to spend more time together and asks if they can go for a walk. MC agrees and he’s delighted by it. He says he’ll message Barbatos to let him know but that it’ll probably not be necessary since Barbatos went back to give them space anyway (You know Lucifer saw Barbatos come back alone, figured out what is happening and is now pacing a hole through the floor

They go to a park with a lake from where they can even see a ferris wheel in the distance. Diavolo asks if they think it’s the ferris wheel they rode today or a different one. He then laughs and says the human world’s really beautiful from the trees in daylight to the buildings at night. He asks if he can hold their hand and they can do that or put their arm through his. If they hold hands he says they almost look like a couple. If they do the second one he’s shocked but smiles and says they saw through him and realised what he actually wanted to do even though he wasn’t smooth enough to ask. He says his mother dies during childbirth and his father was always very strict with him, and he doesn’t know if that’s cause he was training him to be the next demon king or because he resented Diavolo’s birth for taking away the love of his life (I also HC Diavolo looking a lot like his mom. ALSO this confirms what I said earlier in one of the other lesson summaries about demons being born through biological reproduction like humans and unlike angels). He says growing up he never got a chance to talk to anyone outside the castle until he met Barbatos who told him stories of the outside world that fascinated him (this really does give the vibe that Diavolo was a child while Barbatos was an adult at the time). He liked Barbatos so much he begged him to stay with him. Barbatos had kept saying no but Diavolo had refused to give up. He’d thrown a tantrum then and said he’d refuse to be the next demon king unless Barbatos stayed with him and Barbatos had given in. Then he gets sad saying that what Belphie said today hit him, and how he always used his royal status to get others to do what he wanted. He asks if it’s possible that he’s forcing Barbatos to stay against his will. (and I get that what diavolo did was shitty but the fear he must have had for the rest of the day since Belphie said that cause he thought Barbatos will leave too and he’ll once again be truly alone in that castle is heartbreaking). MC who spent the last two lessons with Barbatos more or less talking about Diavolo (or Solomon) reassures Diavolo that Barbatos is staying cause he wants to. Diavolo’s happy for a bit before he becomes sad and doubtful again. He then says MC reminds him of Lucifer cause Lucifer is also constantly saying similar things to him (AND THE IMPLICATIONS!!? FIRST IT WAS THE OTHERS COMPARING LUCIFER’S FONDNESS FOR MC TO HIS FONDNESS TO DIAVOLO AND NOW IT’S THIS!!? Can I just say again: remember how the twins wanted to share MC if they ever got together with one of them? I think Lucifer x MC and Diavolo x MC make a lot more sense if it’s all three of them together. And in any case where MC doesn’t choose one of them, they get together like the LIs in The Arcana do). He asks if it’s possible that Lucifer and MC flatter him too much. He then says it can’t be fun listening to his childhood stories but that he wanted them to know about him and that he wants to know more about them too. He asks what kinda food they like. The options are sweet, spicy and sour. He likes sweet too. He asks if they like animals. Options are they love them, don’t or it depends on the animal. Look after all the time in the devildom, after two paws events, after bathing Cerberus and after the brothers all having their own vastly different animal representatives MC can’t not love all animals. Diavolo says imagining them playing with different animals is really sweet. He says he’s known them for quite some time now but there’s still so much he doesn’t know. He blushes and asks if they can do things like this more often, where they just spend time together. He then confesses and asks how they feel about him. If they say sorry he smiles and asks them not to apologize, saying that he didn’t say it to make them feel bad but that he understands. He asks if they’re in love with one of the brothers an they can say yes, no or stay silent. He smiles sadly and says he guessed. He says that even though they don’t have feelings for him it doesn’t change the fact that he still loves them. He says he still wants to get to know them more and asks if they can still meet up. He thanks them for being a part of his life. (While I still don’t think the side characters liking MC makes much sense and I still much prefer them as very close friends I like how all their confessions are very one and done. The brothers romantic plotlines with MC are still going on and there’s never a “I love you, do you love me? No? okay I still love you but I’ll back away too” moment. MC never gets the chance to reject them. But with the side characters MC rejects them, they understand that MC loves someone else, they accept the rejection really well and they go back to being friends and I really like that. It feels like it probably won’t be explored again after you reject them.)

#obey me spoilers #my headcanons #my theories #obey me #obey me! #swd obey me #shall we date? obey me! #obey me shall we date #obey me diavolo #om! diavolo #swd diavolo #shall we date diavolo #obey me belphegor #om! belphegor #swd belphegor #shall we date belphegor #obey me belphie #om! belphie #swd belphie #shall we date belphie

[dddannn]

touch

Pairing: Meian ShugoX You

Warnings: Smut

Genre: smut and fluff

It’s already been 2 weeks but you haven’t seen your boyfriend. He’s out of town for a Tournament. Even though he didn’t miss a day to call you or face time you, you can’t help to miss him, his touch, his presence, his kisses, his everything. It’s only been 2 weeks since they started their tournaments but you already miss him, especially at nights when you are so used to being hugged and snuggled during your sleep but now it just feels so empty. Now you tried to divert your emptiness, as you were seated at your bed you grabbed and opened your laptop and tried searching for fan cams from his recent play offs. You smiled as you saw some recent uploads. And tried watching some of them. You could see him and his crew have fun in court. And also laugh when you saw their hungry fan girls, good thing you are not the jealous type of girlfriend cause if you are then it would be hard for both of you. As you were giggling in each video you saw you could hear your phone vibrate from the other side of the bed, you instantly grabbed it and answered the call. You know it’s him who would it be? And you decide to put it in a loudspeaker.

“Hey babe! How’s your game last night.” you asked

“It was okay, we really have a lot of crazy fangirls though” he said and you laughed.

“Yeah I know right? I just saw a video of you and some people threw their bra at you. You are really have a lot of fangirls though you’re quite old.” you said and he laughed

“I am not that old though, and they still think I am hot.”

“Yeah, right you are already 32 Shugo, you still think you’re young?” you joked at him

“Yah! What Shugo? That’s Senpai for you!”

“Senpai? Oh please why would I call you that? you are only a few years older than me.”

“Still, I am still older than you.”

“Yeah as if I will call you that”

“Just call me Senpai please!”

“I don’t want to! Haha!” you teased him

“When I see you again, you are gonna get a punishment from me.”

“Then Punish me then.” just then your door opened harshly

“Oh yes I will.” It was him, at your door. Your eyes widened at the sight of him in front of you, it made your heart beat fast. You instantly closed your laptop and put it on the side as you stood up and jumped at him, good thing he caught you as you wrapped your legs around him. Then he chuckled

“Well I guess someone missed me huh?” he teased and you just hugged him tighter as he walked towards your bed and laid you down and hovered over you.

“Then as for the punishment.” he said as he held both of your hands down to your sides and he leaned down closer to you, you smiled as you leaned in for the kiss. As you moved in sync you could feel his tongue brushed through your lips, you gladly opened your lips as he entered your mouth. You could feel butterflies rumbling in your stomach from his kisses. It always feels like the first time everytime he kisses you, but now it feels more exciting maybe because It’s been weeks since you saw each other and you missed each other’s touch. Then he pulled away from the kiss for you to catch your breath

“If this is always the punishment, then I’ll always be a bad girl” you breath and he smirked

“You are getting bolder lately huh?” he said as he kissed your neck which owned a moan from you

“I just fucking miss you” you moaned as you arched your back when he found your sweet spot.

“Then let me do you now.” he said as he pulled up your shirt with your bra, and he grabbed your left boob with his right hand while he sucked on the other, which earned a moan from you. Then he ran his left hand from your chest down to your stomach and he slipped it inside your shorts as he palmed your pussy. You could feel his middle finger playing with your clit.

“Shugo” you moaned as he inserted a finger in you.

“What did I tell you earlier?” he teased as he slowly inserted his finger in and out.

“I don’t want to..o”

“Are you sure?” he teased as he inserted another finger. You just opened your mouth and moaned ignoring his request.

“Are you really not gonna call me that?” He teased as he curled his fingers inside you.

“Shugo...ahh I need you now.” you moaned and he smirked

“What did I tell you?”

“I need you now, Senpai” you breathe and he smirked as he pulled his finger out from you, he pulled your shorts down with your panties. Then he eagerly unbuckled his pants and pulled it down, revealing already hard dick. He took a hold of his dick and pumped it a few times, then he opened your legs as he positioned himself in between you. Then he slowly entered you, which earned a moan from you.

“It feels so good inside you, fuck” he moaned as he thrusted in and out from you.

“You feel so hard you, ah! Fuck harder!” you moaned as he thrusted harder in you

“Shit why are you so tight?” he moaned as he started harder and harder which received a moan from you, then he grabbed your hips and pulled it up and he thrusted harder with him in his knees and you arch your back at the sensasion.

“There! Oh my god FUCK! There!” you screamed as he hit your spot, then he grabbed one of your leg and put it over his shoulder as he position himself and he trusted in to you harshly

“Here?” he said as he thrusted harder “you want me to thrust harder” and he thrust “here?” then he thrusted again

“Oh yes there! Don’t stop” you screamed as he thrusted that spot again and again, and harder and harder. Then suddenly you grabbed his shoulder and you digged your nails at his shoulder, he knows that you are already near, so he thrusted in and out in you faster and harder as before, and you can’t take it anymore, your mind is already becoming blurry

“Shugo, I’m already…”

“Me too” he moaned as he cummed inside you, and you moaned as you reached your climax as well, you could feel him fill you up down there. Then after that, he pulled out from you and laid beside you in the bed, he grabbed the sheets and covered both of your body. As you are trying to recover from the sensassion you looked at him and you saw him staring at you, you smiled and you snuggled near him.

“I thought you’re on tourament.”

“Well, we are not done yet but our next game is still next week so we still have time to be here” he said as he wrapped an arm around you

“It must be fun playing huh? Especially when girls throwing their bras at you” you teased him and he laughed

“You want those bras? I could give them you you”

“Ew, that’s gross!” you hit him and he laughed and hugged you tightly.

#meian smut #Meian x you #haikyuu x reader #hq x oc #hq smut