#girls just trying to get by do not drag her name across the mud like that wtf

[alltheirdamn]

Killing Me Softly | (Joel Miller x teacher!f!reader)

Chap. 1 : Your Name

Series Summary: You've nursed a broken heart for two years. ‘Love’ felt like a foreign term, but maybe it wasn’t so far out of reach. Chap. 1 Summary: When you catch the eye of your students' dad at a school dance, he starts showing up everywhere. Rating: 18+ MDNI (for the future smut) Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: pre-outbreak AU, age gap (joel is 36 reader is 27), no smut (yet), sexual tension, flirting, pining, mentions of alcohol, language, angst, reader's last name is 'Smith' for no other purpose than the fact she is a teacher A/N: This will definitely be a slow-burn fic, so please hang tight!! Tropes include: second chance at love, strangers to lovers, secret relationship, etc. I'm actually so excited about this one, so I hope you guys stick around to see where it goes :')

Masterlist

PROLOGUE

You never thought you’d be the girl sitting at the steps of an abandoned altar with your wedding dress covered in mud from the rain.

 Just minutes before you were supposed to take your first steps down the aisle, your fiancé fled. You watched the blur of his suit in the distance as he ran through the rain and left your family and friends in shock. Motionless at the back of the rows of chairs, you dropped your bouquet and stood in heartbreaking silence as the cords of the violins faded into the air. Your parents and siblings swarmed around you, trying to break the paralysis that kept your eyes locked on the vacant spot under the archway and steps of what would have been the place you said your vows. You still had them in your hand; the words scribbled neatly on a folded paper torn from your journal. You’d never get the chance to say those words aloud; he never would have deserved them, anyway. 

The ring sat heavily on your finger now as you watched it glisten under the pelting rain. Your dress clung to your body in layers of silk and lace, a taunting reminder of who you had become for a man unworthy of your love and devotion. 

Five years together, all stripped away in a matter of minutes. 

You’d never love again. 

“Everyone’s gotta do it,” Maria sighed as she stood at the student drop-off with you.

By ‘it,’ she meant chaperoning the father-daughter dance later in the week, which you seriously wanted no part of. You had been through enough school dances in your three years working at the middle school, and you were tired of watching pre-teens grinding on each other to god-awful music. You had better things to do with your Friday nights, like sitting on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a horror movie playing in the background—you’d sworn off rom-coms long ago.

“Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, waving another line of kids across the road. 

You watched as they trudged across the crosswalk with their backpacks slung over their shoulders, eyes bright and broad at the realization school was over for the day. If only they were that chipper in class, maybe you’d have an easier time teaching them how to write three-point essays. 

Maria chirped goodbye to each one as they passed, her cheeks pinched with a fake smile only you could recognize. You knew she loved the kids but loved the final school bell even more. You, on the other hand, hated it. The end of school was just another reminder that you’d go back to an empty home and an empty life. 

Two years had passed since Bennett ran from your wedding ceremony—two years without closure or an answer. By the time you had pieced yourself together and returned home from the would-have-been ceremony, his things were gone, and the house filled with the ghost of his presence. Your in-laws went radio silent, avoiding all calls and emails from you until they eventually moved out of state and changed numbers. The hours leading up to the ceremony would forever be a mystery as to why he left, and you would spend the rest of your life fighting for an answer as to why you weren’t good enough to love. 

Dragging you from your thoughts, Maria bumped you with her hip, giving you a concerned look. You shook away the memories and returned her stare with a fake smile you had mastered over the last two years. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had genuinely smiled or laughed without feeling the force of a facade washing over you. Concealing the pain of it all made it easier; maybe if you believed you were okay, you’d start feeling okay. But you never did. Not even the countless hours of therapy had helped reconcile the person you once were. Bennett had left and taken every vulnerable part of you with him, leaving nothing but a raw and broken shell in his wake. 

“You’re doing it again,” Maria scolded. 

“Doing what?” You asked, already aware of the answer.

“Wallowing. You really should get back out there again.”

You focused on the next grouping of kids setting out to cross the street, your hand instinctively coming up to hold the passing cars at a standstill. You plastered on a fake smile as they waved goodbye to you, and you glanced back at Maria once they finally stepped foot on the next sidewalk.

“I’m not interested,” you stated. “I’m fine on my own.”

Her eyebrow lifted as if challenging your blasé response. Your answer always remained the same, yet Maria relentlessly attempted to change your mind.

“You’ve got to at least try. What if there’s already someone out there just waiting for you?”

“Maria, I promise no one is waiting for me.”

“I wish you’d just give it a shot. You deserve to be happy.”

You had heard that phrase often over the last couple of years; a pitying tone always accompanied the words. People loved to soothe you with words that held no weight or purpose. You learned to nod along to their sympathies and turn a deaf ear to their suggestions of what you deserved. 

The final round of kids made their way toward the line of parents waiting in their cars, and you followed Maria back to your classrooms to clean up before leaving for the day. Her words stuck with you on the quiet drive home; the radio wasn’t enough to drown out that taunting voice in your head reminding you that you’d never be enough. 

Your single-story house was nestled into an older neighborhood of Austin, only a handful of miles from the middle school. You’d argue that the house was the best thing to come out of the failed engagement; its personality stood firm against the other houses with a vibrant shade of blue painted over its wooden panels and wrap-around porch. You spent the last few months sprucing up the front yard, planting rose bushes and trees to liven up the house. It hadn’t fixed all your problems but pacified them temporarily as you dirtied your hands in the soil. 

It became second nature to shut your garage immediately after putting your car in park. You didn’t want the typical neighborly interactions or shallow conversations. You were content with living between closed doors and drawn curtains. The less of an interaction with the world, the better. 

Dropping your purse and work bag on the kitchen counter, you sunk onto a barstool, staring blankly at the fridge and knowing all too well there was hardly anything inside it. You’d settle for another frozen meal and glass of wine, a typical meal these days to satisfy a hunger you no longer had. Despite the colorful kitchen cabinets, the mustard yellow couch in the living room, and the obscure wallpaper…your life was dull. How could one person suck out all the energy from another human being? How could pain last this long? 

You stabbed a fork into the TV dinner meal before you and wondered if you’d ever feel happy again. 

**

You managed to survive another week of teaching, only to now be standing in the shadows of the school gymnasium, nursing an overly sweet fruit punch. The PTA had done a decent job of turning the space into a somewhat realistic dance floor: string lights hung corner to corner of the ceiling, a DJ booth in the center of the basketball court, and colorful balloons circled the air. You spotted a few of your students dancing with their fathers, their eyes squeezed shut from their too-wide smiles and bubbling laughter. A foreign ache in your chest reminded you how you would have had a father-daughter dance at your wedding. Your father even took it upon himself to brush up on dance lessons to sway you across the floor to some overly emotional song. As corny as it was, you had been looking forward to that moment throughout your engagement. 

“Look who got all dolled up!” Maria hollered as she strolled over, fruit punch in hand.

“I would hardly call this dolled up,” you said, tugging at the hem of your dress.

You only had a handful of dresses in your closet, this particular one being a flowy black cocktail dress with a halter top and ruffled skirt. It was barely passing the school dress code, so you decided to pair it with a low kitten heel to try and deter the admin’s scrutiny. You did, however, spend a little more time than usual on your makeup and hair, hoping if you looked pretty, then maybe you’d feel it, too.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Maria sighed.

“You look great,” you said, sidestepping her lecture.

Maria had chosen a plum floor-length maxi dress decorated with embroidered blue flowers. Her curly hair was pinned in a bun, and several sparkly barrettes were clipped to the side. Her makeup was no different from usual: a rosy red lip and simple mascara with a hint of blush on her cheeks. 

“Really, Maria. You do.”

“Well, thank you,” she blushed, looking back toward the room full of bodies dancing.

Your eyes followed hers, settling on the duos as they swayed to a slow song. Every father was dressed up in some sort of button-up or the occasional suit except for one—the same one who happened to be twirling around your student, Sarah Miller. You nudged Maria, pointing secretly at them with a questioning glance.

“Is that her dad?” You asked.

He wore a basic cotton T-shirt, jeans, and dirty work boots. There was barely any thought behind his appearance as if he had rolled up to the school right after a long shift at work, forgoing any effort or care. Some part of you hated him for it. The least he could do was get dressed up for a silly school dance, especially when Sarah wore a lavender tulle dress that complimented her olive skin tone. 

“Yup,” Maria elongated the word. “That’s Joel Miller.”

“Sure looks like he doesn’t care to be here,” you grumbled.

Maria barked a laugh, looking at you through narrowed eyes.

“As opposed to you?” She questioned. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you bitching about this dance all week long?”

“Well, at least I put some effort into my looks tonight,” you defended.

You glanced back at Sarah, seeing her father twirl her one last time. You caught a glimpse of his face for the first time in the flow of his movements. Messy dark curls framed his head, curling in every which way as if he’d run his hand through them a million times. Even from a distance, you could see the patchy beard and short mustache covering the lower half of his face, alongside the several creases around his eyes as he smiled.  And his eyes… They looked like big brown saucers under the lights, reflecting a genuine softness as he watched his daughter dance. 

And then they snapped up to meet your gaze through the crowd as if you had silently called out to him. Everything slowed around you for a moment as he studied you from afar, his eyes drifting down your body and back up with a hint of a smile teasing his lips. A rush of heat crawled up your neck, and you broke the eye contact between you. Maria cleared her throat beside you, tearing you away from the man holding your sincere interest. 

“What was that?” Maria chirped. 

You shook your head, glancing between her curious face and the dancefloor. Joel had since moved on, steering Sarah toward the refreshment table. He never once looked back at you, which left you unexplainably disappointed. For a moment in time, someone looked at you and saw you. 

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered. “Probably nothing.”

“It looked like something.”

You turned to face Maria, a scowl twisting up your lips entirely. You were tired of her pushing nonexistent things on you, and that’s what this was— nonexistent. Whatever moment between you and Joel had gone as quickly as it came. You were done with the night and standing among so many cheerful people. You couldn’t stand it any longer. 

“I think I’m going to take off,” you announced, placing your half-drunk fruit punch on the table behind you. 

Maria was defeated, knowing you'd still leave no matter what she said. Stalking out of the gymnasium, you grabbed your purse from the teacher's booth and booked it to your car with your heels in your hands. You carefully walked along the sidewalk toward your car, catching a conversation drifting through the wind between the other vehicles. 

“...Dad, you promised we’d watch movies tomorrow!”

“I know, sweetheart, but Uncle Tommy needs help on the job sight.”

You hid between two cars, listening to their voices bounce back and forth. It wasn’t until you peeked out to see the two figures that you realized it was Sarah and her father, Joel. For fucks sake. You tiptoed around the car's bumper beside you, attempting to make a getaway before either of them saw you. You must have done a terrible job because Sarah called your name as you edged closer to your car.

“Miss Smith!”

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself. 

With your purse in one hand and heels in the other, you turned toward them with your rehearsed fake smile. Sarah was standing beside her dad—Joel—a small smile shining up at you. You knew her usual upbeat personality in class, always laughing and joking with other kids. She was an A+ student, too, and her work showcased her smartness. But in her father's shadow, a distinct sadness clouded her eyes. 

“Hello, Sarah! How did you like the dance?” You asked. 

“It was really fun,” she grinned, forcing her smile wider. You saw through it. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Joel cleared his throat, extending a large hand toward you. You blinked at his open palm, afraid of making that same startling eye contact as you had in the gymnasium. Shuffling your purse into your other hand, you took his into yours, focusing on the warmth of his grip crawling up your skin. His fingers dwarfed your own, tightening around your hand until you were forced to look up finally. 

“S’nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Smith,” he said, his thick Southern accent shining through.

“Miss Smith,” you corrected. It was hard to hide the bitterness in the statement. 

“Miss Smith,” he echoed. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad.”

His eyes still hadn’t left yours, their piercing stare making you shiver despite the September humidity. You pulled your hand away, overly aware of how his fingers lingered a moment too long. Shifting your weight from one leg to another, you were starting to feel the asphalt dig into the soles of your feet. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Miller,” you replied.

“Joel,” he insisted.

You nodded politely, giving him another faltering smile. Hauling your purse over your shoulder, you said a soft goodbye to them and bolted to your car. In the confines of the driver's seat, you rested your head against the wheel, inhaling deeply as you steadied the nerves inside your body. Why did such a simple interaction light up your body with emotions you had spent so long suppressing? And why did Joel’s smile haunt you even when your eyes were shut?

Forcing your keys into the ignition, you tore out of the school parking lot and back to the confines of your tiny blue home. 

The weekends were usually filled with nothing more than grading papers and lesson planning. The coffee beside you on the kitchen counter had gone cold hours ago as the morning sunlight faded into the afternoon. Through tired eyes, you glanced up at the oven clock: 2 pm. You needed a break from reading through piles of essays, and your fridge desperately required replenishing. Grabbing your keys off the counter, you forfeited any plans of changing out of your sweat set and headed to the supermarket.

The packed parking lot and crowded store were daunting reminders of why you typically decided to leave your fridge vacant. But as you pushed your shopping cart down each aisle, you had no choice but to comply with your basic human needs and stock up on miscellaneous food you would want throughout the week. Rounding down the next aisle, your eyes caught on a tall figure standing in front of the bakery section, his face scrutinizing every cake in the display case. Shit. 

You tried—and failed—to maneuver your way into the next aisle, somehow crashing into an older woman’s cart, forcing her carton of eggs to fall and smash onto the linoleum floor.

“Dammit,” you hissed, crouching down to try and help them clean up the shattered eggshells.

“S’alright, sweetheart,” she assured. “I’ll just holler for a worker to come clean it up.”

“No, I—I can help,” you stammered, fingers still running over the broken yolks spreading across the floor.

“Miss Smith?” You heard a deep voice above you.

Your head snapped up to see Joel standing above you; his forehead creased with concern. The woman you had crashed into was already down the next aisle looking for a store employee, leaving you alone with a mess you had caused. Joel crouched beside you, his hands folding over yours to slow your frantic cleaning.

“It’s alright, I got it!” You snapped, pulling your hands back.

“Just tryna’ help,” he said. “That’s all.”

“It’s my fault. I can fix it.” 

You had said those words to yourself many times before, and never once did they prove true. 

“Someone will come and clean this up; you ain’t gotta do all that,” Joel said softly. “C’mon.”

He offered a hand, which you took reluctantly, leaving you both standing awkwardly in front of the mess. You shifted your gaze downward, too afraid to meet those deep brown eyes that had plagued you the night before. 

“Hey,” Joel said in a soft tone. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

You huffed a sigh, gripping the handles of your cart to start moving. Today was going downhill rapidly, and you only wanted to go home and hole yourself away…like you always did.

“I, uh, was tryna’ pick out a birthday cake,” he rambled. “S’my birthday tomorrow, and Sarah wants to make sure I have a cake, ya’know? Any ideas on what she might like? I’m not sure if y’all ever have parties at school with sweets and all that.”

Your eyes snapped to his, a scowl forming on your face. Sarah’s dad was asking you what she liked? He was proving to be worse and worse by the second. But you were her teacher and needed to hold your tongue.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy anything,” you said, a tight smile forming. “Happy birthday, Mr. Miller.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, clearly seeing through the mask you put on. It was infuriating how easily he had wove his way through your bloodstream, even in just twenty-four hours. 

“Joel,” he insisted. “You don’t need to do all that formal stuff.”

“I kind of do,” you laughed. “You’re my students’ father; that’s how I’m supposed to address you.”

“S’all I’m sayin’ is that you’re free to call me Joel. No harm in it.”

There was a lot of harm in it. 

You didn’t know what else to say, so you dipped your head to say goodbye and pushed your cart past him. You weren’t being the kindest nor the most respectful person, but your anger was at a low simmer. Any longer around him, and you might explode. You weren’t used to someone getting under your skin like he was. And the worst part was that he wasn’t even trying. You couldn’t understand why you reacted so strongly. 

“Miss Smith!” Joel called, catching up as you moved down the next aisle.

You inhaled and stopped walking, mustering another fake smile to appease him. He gripped the side of your cart with a large hand, a simple gesture to keep you firmly in place. Clearly, he decided when the conversation was over.

“Yes, Mr. Miller?”

“Did I do somethin’ to upset you? ‘Cause I swear, I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by what I said back there. 

“No, no, you’re fine,” you lied. “Just having a bad day, that's all.” That wasn’t a lie.

Joel ran a hand over his neck, studying you quietly for a moment. Something about the atmosphere around him was intoxicating and so fucking dangerous. 

“Well, I’m sorry ‘bout that. Guess I was just tryna’ make small talk, and clearly, I ain’t doin’ a good job.”

“It’s fine—no need for apologies. I hope the cake and birthday celebration go well. I’m sure Sarah will tell me all about it on Monday.”

His eyes shifted over you again, lingering on your lips, set in a firm smile. You tried your best to hide the shiver that ran up your back as he drank you in. 

“Y’probably think I’m a terrible dad, huh?” He sighed.

“What?” You blinked away the thoughts swarming your head.

“I mean, I know you probably heard us arguin’ last night, and I’m out here asking her teacher what her favorite kind of cake is. You ain’t gotta be polite about it. I know I’m not doin’ the best job,” he confessed.

“Mr. Miller, I don’t think that at all. I just think maybe asking your wife would be more helpful than asking me.”

That garnered a laugh from him, a genuine and sincere laugh.

“Never had a wife to begin with. Sarah’s mom left us when she was only a year old,” he explained. “Been doin’ it all on my own.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you really were a bitch. 

“Trust me, I get it. I could do a better job, bein’ a dad and all that. I’m tryin’.”

“I think you’re doing just fine,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

He brushed it off, replacing the sad look cresting his eyes with a lopsided grin. You wanted to hate it, but your body reacted traitorously. You felt the softness in his gaze crawl over you, slowly replacing the anger coursing through your veins with something else…something you hadn’t felt in a long time. No one had looked at you that way since—well, since Bennett. Even if Joel was only being friendly, you were drawn to the charm he exuded. Dangerous, you reminded yourself.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I won’t hold ya’ up any longer. I hope your day gets better, Miss Smith.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “And Happy birthday, again.”

Joel’s eyes settled on your lips again as you talked, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. His eyes flicked back up to yours, a flash of something behind them, and you were ready to bolt. He muttered a thank you and left you standing in a vacant aisle, your hands still covered in egg yolks and your mind reeling.

It was hard to maintain your good mood once Monday rolled around. Seeing Sarah sitting in class was an unwelcome reminder of your interaction with Joel on Saturday, and you had to refrain from overstepping boundaries and asking about his birthday. She didn’t need to know you cared, even though you struggled not to care. You wondered what kind of cake he decided on, how old he turned if he blushed when she sang Happy Birthday. Every thought burned a hole in your head that you tried to patch up and forget. 

The final bell rang for the day, and the kids began to pack up in a rush. You straightened out the papers lining your desk, avoiding eye contact with Sarah as she slung her backpack over her shoulders and lined up to leave. Grabbing your whistle and bottle of water, you followed them toward the front gates, taking your usual place alongside Maria—who was overly chipper for a Monday.

“Soooo,” she prodded. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” you lied, walking with her to the crosswalk. 

“You really need to go out and have fun! You’re young, and you need to enjoy your 20s!” She exasperated. 

“Maria, I’m 27,” you groaned. “My 20s are practically over.”

She folded her arms over her chest, leveling you with a heavy glare. Maria was in her late 40’s and clearly exuded a motherly-type attitude. You shifted your focus to the kids crossing the road, watching as they reunited with their parents. 

“We go out on Wednesdays for Happy Hour! Join us this week,” she suggested.

“I don’t know,” you sighed.

“Come on!” Maria pressed. “If you hate it, I’ll never ask you to go out with us again.”

There was no point in arguing with her, so you relented and agreed to one night out. A few drinks and hours of mindless conversation could be good for you. It would be better than sitting in front of the TV with a bland meal and another glass of wine.

You managed to evade all thoughts of Joel somehow the next two days, putting all your time and energy into prepping your students for their first test of the year. Lesson planning and preparation took up your free period and late evenings, leaving you little room to think about those brown eyes and disarming smile. It was Wednesday evening, and you were knee-deep in your closet, trying to find an outfit for Happy Hour. You had changed at least five times, discarding every top and skirt onto your bedroom floor. Eventually, you gave up, settling on tight jeans, a flowy red blouse, and black flats. You left your hair in wavy curls over your shoulders and simple makeup to balance everything out. 

The group took their Happy Hour rituals to a local dive bar on the outskirts of town, a row of motorcycles and trucks lining the entrance. You felt a bit out of place walking into a smoke-hazed bar, with the patron's wandering eyes crawling over you, but you quickly picked out the huddle of teachers in the corner laughing over a round of beers. They welcomed you with bright smiles and hellos, offering to buy your first drink. After about an hour and a few drinks, you felt warm and far more relaxed. Conversations about quarterly goals and admin meetings flowed over the table, each teacher complaining about something. You chimed in when necessary, keeping quiet when you had nothing to contribute. You were on your fourth beer when the girls around you started whispering low about a group of men entering the bar. You stole a peek over your shoulder, eyes settling on the last person you wanted to see. 

Joel Miller.

He had on his usual simple work attire, the fabric of his cotton shirt stretched out over his broad chest. His neck was tanned, most likely from working outdoors, and his hair was just as unruly as you remembered. The man beside him, shorter but with similar features, clapped Joel on the back and steered him towards the bar. You lowered your head, taking a longer gulp of your drink to try and steady your nerves. Of all fucking places, he had to be here. 

“He’s just so handsome, isn’t he?” Maria nudged you, tossing back a look towards Joel.

You shrugged, feigning disinterest. Joel was handsome, but no one needed to know how you felt. Because what you felt was very, very confusing. 

“He’s my students’ father, Maria.”

She rolled her eyes, swirling the contents of her drinks before taking a sip. 

“Okay, and? There’s nothing inappropriate about dating a student’s parent.”

“Yes, there is,” you snapped. “And I’m not even considering dating him.”

“But you think he’s attractive,” she stated.

You didn’t want to respond to that, knowing the warmth in your cheeks was already enough of a giveaway. If you shrunk far enough into yourself, you might go unrecognized the rest of the night.

Maria thankfully dropped the subject, returning to the conversation around the table. After another hour, the ladies started to trickle out of the bar and home for the night. You, on the other hand, still had to wait a bit longer until the alcohol phased out of your body. Which meant you were sitting alone in the same space as Joel. You could feel his eyes on your back the longer you sat there, and to your detriment, decided to steal a glance over your shoulder. Joel’s eyes raked over your body, returning your stare with a soft, welcoming smile. Shit.

You watched as he slipped off the barstool, waltzing towards you with a beer clasped in his large hand. You tried so hard not to notice his thick fingers wrapped around the bottle, and you most definitely tried not to think of what his fingers would feel like inside—

“Miss Smith,” he greeted, silencing your awful thoughts.

“Mr. Miller,” you said.

“Are all these formalities necessary in a bar?” he teased. 

“A couple of drinks won’t change my mind.”

Joel slid into the seat beside you without an invitation, his arm brushing against yours as he settled into the stool. It was instinct to flinch away, afraid of the reaction his touch would cause to your body. 

“What will change your mind?” he pressed, keeping a steady gaze on you.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, deciding to change the subject. “How was your birthday?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, that stupid lopsided grin forming on his lips. 

“Can’t say I love gettin’ old, but celebratin’ was sure nice.”

“And how old are you, Mr. Miller?”

“Ripe age of thirty-six, Miss Smith,” he grinned. 

“What cake did you choose?” you asked, watching him take a long sip of his beer. 

“Vanilla. Everyone’s gotta love vanilla, right?” 

Was he… flirting with you? 

You’d blame your following response on the beers coursing through your bloodstream, but truthfully, you just wanted to play along, even only for a moment. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t always love vanilla, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, falling to your lips as you took another drink. It was bold and stupid of you to say that, but at this point, you didn’t care. 

“What other flavors do you like?” 

He leaned forward in his chair, his thigh pressing against yours. The heat of his body and the smell of smoke on his clothes was a dangerous combination for your self-restraint.  

“I have a few guilty pleasure flavors,” you smirked.

Joel’s hand damn near crushed the bottle when you said those words, his entire body tensing beside you. You couldn’t care at that moment about how you spoke; the drinks started speaking for themselves. You hadn’t dared to flirt with a man since Bennett left, too afraid of what falling in love again might do to you. But, for some reason, flirting with Joel felt so simple. He was older than you, and maybe that piqued your interest, knowing he was far more mature than anyone else you had considered. 

“Indulge me, Miss Smith,” he whispered. 

“I think I’ll leave it a mystery,” you whispered in return. “I’ve already said too much as it is.”

“I reckon you ain’t said enough,” he countered. 

Heat flared through your neck and face as he leaned in closer, his face only inches from yours. This had gone too far. You had broken any rules you had previously set in place, and now you were dancing on a fragile line between professionalism and indecency. 

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you watched as the hands ticked closer to midnight. Just like in the fairytales, your time was up. Back to reality. 

“It’s getting late,” you started. “I should get home.”

Joel’s demeanor shifted, and his grin faltered as he watched you rise from the barstool. He brushed his hand over your arm, barring you from walking away. 

“Not real sure if you should be drivin’ home yet, Miss Smith. Y’had a few drinks tonight,” Joel protested.

“How do you know? Were you watching me?”

“Gotta make sure my daughter's teacher is safe. Who else’s gonna make sure she gets straight A’s?” 

He was trying to make light of the situation, but you knew better. You knew he had been watching you since he had arrived; his attention had never been on his group of friends. 

“I assure you, I’m fine,” you argued. “You go enjoy your night with your friends, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s brows furrowed as he considered you. His hand still lingered on your arm, thick fingers flexing against your skin. You glanced between his hand and his eyes, trying to make sense of his intentions. This was far past a coincidental run-in; this was a strange desire out of reach. 

“Can I drive you home at least?” He asked. 

“I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least drive behind you to make sure you make it alright?” He offered.

You looked back toward the bar, seeing the man he walked in with staring at you with an apparent scowl.

“I don’t think that’s fair to your friend,” you said.

Joel peered around you and huffed loudly. 

“That’s my brother, Tommy. S’all good, he’s probably ready to hit the road, too.”

“He doesn’t look too happy.”

“He’s fine,” Joel grumbled.

Tommy noticed you both staring at him and decided to join the mix. He walked up with a grin despite the scowl he had just worn and extended his hand to you.

“I’m Tommy. Joel’s brother.”

“Hi, I’m Sarah’s teacher.” You gave him a quick shake and tried to sidestep to leave.

“Wait!” Joel called out.

“I’m okay, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. “Be safe tonight.”

You made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape him before he reeled you back in. You let yourself float in his atmosphere for too long, testing the waters you knew were off-limits. There was still an alcohol-induced haze lingering in your head, but the sooner you could leave, the better. Tomorrow would come with a headache and a post-drunken clarity to put you back on the right track. You needed to steer clear of Joel before you slipped up and allowed another man inside the walls you built. 

You attempted to retrieve your keys from your purse, only to fumble them out of your hands and onto the dirt ground of the parking lot. 

“Fuck,” you groaned.

As you bent to pick them up, footsteps crunching on the ground grew closer. You already knew who it was.

“Miss Smith,” Joel’s voice sounded pained. 

“I’m fine!” you shouted, whipping your head around to find him nearly toe-to-toe with you. 

The moonlight above you illuminated his brown eyes, which darkened the longer he looked down at you. You shrunk away, letting your body hit the driver's side of your door while Joel stepped closer. 

“Please. You shouldn’t be drivin’ right now. Lettin’ you leave like this wouldn’t be right of me.”

Your only focus was on his lips as he talked. The plushness of his lips enticed you, leaving you imagining how soft they’d feel pressed against yours. Your control was slipping, and the alcohol was pulsing faster in your veins. 

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” You wondered aloud. 

Joel looked at you like he knew the layers of the question. He knew what battle you were fighting inside and saw the fear plastered on your face.

“No,” he whispered softly.

Your eyes bounced between his eyes and his lips, trying to grasp the moment's weight. You needed to be firm and say no; your future self would thank you for it. Gripping your keys, you exhaled and turned towards your car door. 

“Have a good night, Mr. Miller,” you tossed over your shoulder. 

The warmth of his body pressed against your back, the smell of smoke and liquor wrapping around you and enveloping you in a cocoon of temptation. Joel’s hands reached around to grab your keys from your shaking hand, dangling them between you and the car. 

“M’taking you home, Miss Smith. Ain’t gonna argue anymore,” he said as his mouth fell to the shell of your ear. 

“I’m—.”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Go to my truck.”

He had the exact tone you did when you reprimanded your students, but the deep rasp of his accent made it all the more inviting. You didn’t want to listen to his demands, but you were getting nowhere successfully. Joel sidestepped to free you of the cage he had you in, watching you intently as you sulked to his truck. It wasn’t hard to know which one it was; only a few cars were left, and the truck exuded the same masculinity as the owner. 

“What about my car?” You protested, folding your arms across your body as you leaned against the truck. 

“I’ll give Tommy the keys,” he said. “He’ll drive it behind us.”

You were about to ramble another slew of protests when Joel yanked the passenger side door open and tilted his head toward the interior. 

“Get in.”

His tone left little room for arguing, so you did as he said without another word. Despite the anger radiating off his body, Joel shut the door softly before heading back into the bar. 

You fidgeted with the seatbelt, the press of it against your chest not strong enough to stabilize the rhythm of your heartbeat. You were in his truck, meaning you’d be alone with him for the next several minutes. It was enough to force a roll of nausea through your stomach. Leaning your head against the window, you watched him reemerge from the bar with Tommy in tow. There was a clear expression of annoyance etched on Tommy’s face, all at the cost of your own stubbornness. 

Joel tossed him the keys to your car before rounding the truck's hood and climbing into the driver’s seat. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, so you kept your eyes on the road as it blurred past with each passing mile. 

“Where do you live?” he asked, passing through another vacant green light. 

You rambled off your address, still keeping your gaze steady on the streetlights as they passed by your window. He didn’t attempt to make small talk after that, and the silence settled onto you like a heavy blanket. Your control of consciousness was slipping the longer you sat beside him, but you willed yourself awake. The streets started to become familiar, and you shifted in your seat. Taking a risk, you looked at Joel, finding him white-knuckling the wheel with his jaw clenched. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I—I don’t go out and drink normally. I should have just stayed home tonight.”

“S’okay,” he said, glancing at you. “Just don’t get why you’re so stubborn about askin’ for help. First at the supermarket and now at the bar. I don’t get it.”

A rush of tears stung your eyes, and you quickly looked away, trying to blink them back before he noticed. Joel’s hand fell onto your thigh, sending a jolt of shock through your body. You wanted to shy away from it, but there was no use in fighting at this point; you were already failing miserably. 

“Hey,” he prodded. “Shit, I’m sorry. Don’t cry, alright?”

You swiped away the tears running from your eyes, schooling your emotions back into a state of numbness. Your little blue house came into view, and you pointed a tired finger toward it to guide him in the right direction. 

“This is me,” you sniffled. 

“Big ol’ house, Miss Smith. Y’live here alone?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the ride, Mr. Miller.”

“I really wish you’d stop callin’ me that,” he sighed, parking his car at your home's fence.

“It’s all formalities.”

“Yeah, I know. I just think after tonight, we’re far past all them formalities and shit.”

Your hand lingered on the door handle as you took one last look at him. Joel’s eyes looked over you with a softness you didn’t deserve. You deserve to be happy. Maria’s words rang out in your head the longer you stared at him. ‘Happy’ was a foreign word to you now, out of reach and out of your control.

“Can I just know one thing?” He asked. 

You nodded, your fingers wrapped around the door handle.

“What’s your name?”

Blame the alcohol…blame your vulnerability…but you told him.

#joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller x teacher!f!reader #joel miller fanfic #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty Warnings: profanity, mentions of abuse Visit my pinned post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty]

“That girl’s idea of ‘redemption’ is idiotic and… well, blasphemous.”

Charlie’s eyes welled with tears. Lucifer stared at Alastor’s microphone in shock. 

“It’s no surprise she’s come up with such a stupid idea. I suppose she takes after her father.”

Lucifer started towards Alastor, face murderous, but Vaggie had to stop him.

“Wait, let it finish,” she pleaded. Lucifer batted her hand away but didn’t move after that. Amusement glittered maliciously in Alastor’s eyes. 

“I am going to burn that hotel to the ground,” your voice said.  

“That’s it.” Lucifer snatched the cane out of Alastor’s hands, snapping it in half and tossing the remnants to the side. Charlie spluttered.

“Dad!”

Alastor sighed. “I knew I should have shown it to just Charlie. I apologise, dear,” he said, taking Charlie’s hands in his own. “It’s truly a shame you couldn’t have seen through her sooner.”

Charlie shook her head. “No, no… I… she said she believed me.” She clutched her chest, looking at everyone else, face broken. “She said she thought I was right. That she supported me.” 

Lucifer gritted his teeth, eyes still trained on Alastor. How fucking dare he try and lie, try and fake your voice, to try and run you through the mud. How dare he hurt Charlie any more than she already was. “[name] would never say that.”

Alastor quirked a brow. “And how would you know?”

“Fuuuuck you,” Lucifer hissed. He raised his hand but Charlie grabbed it, pushing it down.

“Dad, listen. How do we have any proof Alastor’s lying?”

“I fucking know he is,” Lucifer snapped. 

Charlie shook her head vigorously. “Dad, no. Please just listen-“

“She’ll be coming to the hotel. She’ll be after all of you.” Alastor cut in, the voice of reason. He eased Charlie away from Lucifer, putting an arm around her shoulder, and smiled thinly. “I suggest staying away from her.”

Lucifer looked at Vaggie, who looked stricken, and flashed her a look. She pressed her lips together and looked away. He turned to Husk, who simply dragged a hand across his face.

“I’m too fuckin tired for this,” the cat demon mumbled, dragging himself away to retire for the night. Lucifer turned back to Charlie and Alastor. 

“I’ll find her,” he said suddenly. 

“I advise you against it, Your Majesty,” Alastor sneered, but Lucifer ignored him, instead turning to Charlie. 

“I’ll find her, talk to her, clear this up.” And stalked up to Alastor. “And if I find out you’re fucking lying, trying to be some fucking slick bastard, you’ll end up just like your ugly cane- microphone- thing. Snapped in half. Got it, tampon?” He stabbed a finger into Alastor’s chest, making the man’s eye twitch.

“Crystal,” came the reply.

“Dad…” Charlie sighed and turned away, clutching her arms. Lucifer rubbed her back, steering her away from Alastor and up the stairs.

“Let’s get some sleep, Apple Pie,” he murmured. “It’s been a long night.”

Charlie nodded, too tired to reply. 

-

“You look so cute, babes,” Velvet almost purred, hands patting down your skirt. You sighed, readjusting the hem of your black top. “You’ll fit in perfectly with us.” She smirked, winking, and grabbed the back of your neck to drag you in for a selfie.

You watched her post it, not bothering to check what the caption was and instead walking around, checking out her studio. “I like your, uh… fashion stuff.”

Velvet hummed. “Right?” She looked at you up and down. “You know, you’d make the perfect model.”

“Thanks.” You rubbed your arms, not knowing how to react until Velvette grabbed your arm, tossing some more clothes over her arm and dragging you to the door. 

“C’mon. Val wants this stuff for his shoot.”

-

You’d opted to sit outside the studio doors, pulling out a cigarette Velvette had tossed you beforehand as you sat on the low, crumbling wall with the night air biting into your skin. You’d never smoked, but might as well start trying now, right? You were in Hell, after all. You looked up to the night sky, the white spot of salvation floating in it. 

“Need a lighter, toots?”

You looked up, to see a tall spider standing before you, a pink fur boa wrapped around his shoulders. He smiled, waving a lighter at you before tossing it. You fumbled to catch it.

“Uh, thanks,” you muttered, flicking it on as he clambered onto the spot next to you. 

He took an drag on his cigarette, and you took one on yours, immediately inhaling too much smoke. You tried to smother your coughs with your fist, yet unable to avoid catching an amused look from him.

He held out his hand for the lighter. “Never smoked, huh?” You handed it to him, shaking your head. “Yer supposed to breathe in slowly, baby.” Smoke curled from his lips as he spoke, before the remnants shooting out as he exhaled sharply. 

You took another drag, and breathed out slowly. “Thanks,” you muttered. “Say, what’s your name?”

“Angel Dust.” He crossed your legs, looking at you proudly as if you were supposed to gasp, or squeal, or something. You just stared at him. He raised an eyebrow. “Dontcha know who I am?”

You shook your head. “Just got here… like, today, so…”

Angel checked his wrist. “It’s one AM, toots. Musta been a long day, then, huh?”

“Mhm…” you didn’t have the heart in you to talk about it. 

“Well, I’m an actor, toots.” He winked, and you didn’t have to ask what kind of actor he was to realize. He flicked his head at the building next you. “I work for Val.”

“Cool.” You pressed your cigarette to your lips thoughtfully, gazing into the night sky. “I work with Val.”

Angel Dust stared at you. “You what?”

You looked up. “I work with Val,” you repeated.

“Since when?”

You shrugged. “Since an hour ago, I’d say.”

Angel stumbled up and away from you. “You ain’t an overlord.”

You frowned, some negative feeling buzzing in your gut at his reaction, so stood up and squared your shoulders. “Not yet I’m not. But you can expect me to make my-“ you held up two fingers, smirking, “-second debut on six-six-six news by the end of tomorrow.” You dropped your hand, as realization dawned over him. 

“Holy shit. You’re the angel.”

You blinked. “I- yeah.” 

He furrowed his brow. “And you wanna be an overlord?”

You smiled stonily. “That seems to be the best plan of action for me down here.” You swept your hand at Pentagram city, bright against the sky. “I mean, what else is there to do down here?”

“You could get redeemed.”

You froze.

“No,” you spat suddenly, whirling on him. “I don’t want to get fucking redeemed, and I’m not going anywhere near that hotel.”

He blinked. “So you do know Charlie.”

You laughed dryly. “Sure I do. And she’s got some explaining to do.”

He frowned, reaching out to you half-heartedly, then dropping his hand. “What do you mean?”

You turned away. “She’ll know what I mean.”

Angel clamped his lips together. You didn’t say anything further.

“Angel, you fucking whore you have spent way too long out there!” Valentino almost screamed, voice muffled by the thick studio walls. Angel’s face seemed to freeze with panic, until he took a shaky breath and tottered back inside the building, throwing one last glance at you. 

“Angel Dust,” you said quietly. He looked up. You raised your head. “What does he do to you?”

Angel stared at you, unable to talk. 

“Does he hurt you?” You prodded.

After a few moments of silence, you gave a wan smile. “It’s okay.” You walked up next to him, and turned to him. “We go inside together.” Grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “He can’t say anything if you were with me.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes. You wiped the smile off of your face and stared ahead.

“Consider it an apology for my little outburst earlier,” you said. Angel Dust nodded. 

You both stepped inside. 

#father forgive me (for i have sinned) lucifer morningstar x angel!reader #father forgive me (for i have sinned) lucifer morningstar x angel!reader -chapter twenty #romance #hazbin hotel #funny #lucifer x reader #memes #shitposting #hazbin fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #father in law #father and daughter #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #charlie hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer #alastor #cursed cat alastor #hazbin au #x reader #female reader #fem reader

[tranquil-ivy]

Ever since you mentioned Chris’s wife having a friend who just HATES him, it’s been stuck on my mind.

The two of you would probably be highschool friends; Let’s call her Isabella, Bella (Bella? Where the hell have you been loca? 🤪) for short. That girls seen you dragged through the mud and back. She was the one that saved you from you last husband, the one that consoled you at 3 AM as you came knocking on her door. It was the last straw. You were done with him being so controlling, abusive, and toxic with you and your little boy.

You didn’t even have a plan in mind—you just packed up your things one night and drove. You’d deal with all the other divorce shit later, you just needed to get out. It was pouring rain, parking your little Honda in your best friend’s driveway and quickly picking up Ollie in your arms and shielding him from the cold heavy rainfall.

Ollie was only a year old, still so small, way too small to go through this. You knocked and after a minute or so, the door finally opened. You just broke down sobbing, asking Bella to please help. If you could just crash at her house for a couple days while you got back on your feet you’d be so grateful. You’d pay her once your check hit.

Being the best person in the entire world, Bella invited you in. Grabbing the things from your car so you could carry Ollie and stay warm in the living room, letting you stay in an old spare bedroom. You just told her everything. What he’d do, how you just packed up, how you were the worst mother in the world for allowing your baby to see that.

It had been almost a decade since that, and Bella still couldn’t get over that day. You’d be forever grateful for her, still paying her back and doing whatever sweet gesture to keep your promise. Ultimately, you moved on and started dating Chris. Your knight in shining armor, the man of your dreams. Bella was SOOOOOOOOO worried. That girl conducted an entire background check on him, literally finding out he had a sister before you did. Finding his old high school graduation pictures even.

Oh, she’d hate him. Send him nasty glares across the room, talk to him, maybe even slightly threaten him when you left to go to the bathroom or something. She was like an eagle watching over him. Even at your wedding, she was still so skeptical, practically bore a hole through his face from how hard her stares were. Bella knew how great of a guy he was, but she still had that fear. She couldn’t let you get dragged down by another man. Not on her watch. She’d make sure you’d never go through that again.

- Anon! 🎀

(Bella is the kind of friend you need in your life.)

I could imagine how worried and horrified she'd be when you came to tell her about this loud mouthed douche from work who never shuts up when you're trying to do your comms job. How you ran into him in the office one day after hearing someone call him Redfield, recognizing the name immediately, and you walked up to him. Ripping him a new one about "shutting the fuck up on radio when you're relaying something important." And he just kinda stood there like a deer in headlights because you wouldn't let him get a word in otherwise.

AND NOW SUDDENLY YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE WITH THE GUY!? You tell her not to worry, it's not a date. He just wants to apologize for being a dick. But Bella knows better by now. You don't talk much about him because even you could tell it was worrying Bella. But whenever he came up his name went from "that asshole" to "Redfield" to "Chris" so quickly... She saw this before with Turner, your ex-husband, and she refused to let it happen again. Not as her duty of your best friend and definitely not as Ollie's aunt/Godmother.

So she'd do a full background check on him, PAID HUNDREDS TO GET EVERYTHING SHE COULD ON THIS MAN! She even got his record of discharge for the Air Force and started making calls... Found out he became the guardian of his little sister in 1994 and took care of her after their parents died. Found all his old S.T.A.R.S. members teammates names or at least the ones who were alive. Called a few people posing as someone looking into him for a job. The only one who was willing to talk was Rebecca but she just seemed so nice Bella couldn't take advantage of that...

You understood Bella's reasoning but it did feel extensive... You got into an argument over it. Didn't speak for a few days. But you came around and you both apologized. You knew why she did it and didn't blame her but at the same time she had to let you make your choices. You're both adults, she can't stop you. But you'd still reassure you that nothing was going on... It's not like that!

And then you were out with her and Ollie getting lunch one afternoon and you just so happen to run into Chris and Claire.

You barely knew anything about Claire but she seemed so excited to get to meet you. "My brother won't shut up about you! It's so nice putting a face to the name. You're just as pretty as he described." :)

Oh... Oh. It is like that...

This is also when Chris gets to meet Ollie for the first time. The man's weakness is babies. He's infatuated with the kid (who's about a year and a few months now) Ollie's excited cause new person. Claire and Bella are chatting each other up but Bella's watching Chris like a hawk as he dotes on Ollie and talks with you. Apologizing for Claire's habit of blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. All while feeling the glare from Bella as she talked with Claire. You'd have to explain that.

Then Chris asks you out again, it's been a few times now and you've hardly talked about your past with him. He's told you what he could of himself. So... you told him everything. All about Turner and all the horrible shit he put you and your son through. You had a lot of baggage if Chris wanted this to go anywhere. A baby and an abusive soon-to-be ex-husband. But he saw it as you just being strong and doing the right thing for yourself and your kid. And he said he wanted to be with you. Even with all the problems.

Bella was still so skeptical for a while until Chris ended up helping you get in contact with a good lawyer after your ex-husband tried getting partial custody of Ollie. No way in hell would the 3 of them let that sweet little boy go anywhere near him. Chris had a little bit of experience after getting custody of his sister. Thankfully everything worked out when you could prove that he'd do do more harm than good in court and you were granted full custody and even a restraining order against him for both you and Ollie.

Everything felt right now. You'd been dating Chris for 6 months, Ollie was almost 2. Bella started to ease up on the hatred (even deep down she knew she didn't actually hate Chris but she just can't stop being on high alert). You find out you're pregnant with a little boy with Chris and he's honestly so happy he gets to be a dad. Besides Ollie who adamantly calls him daddy. It's nice to finally see you happy with someone who cares about you and treats you like gold.

Finally you get Bella's blessing during her maid of honor speech at the wedding and from then on it's just snarky back and forth between the two. Still says she hates him but she doesn't. It's obvious.

#🏘️ domestic life with chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x y/n #chris redfield x you #chris redfeild x reader #chris redfield #resident evil x reader #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (xv, ao3)

(Chapter fifteen: Cassian’s determined to get his girl, whilst the past catches up to Nesta. TW: mentions of past abuse) (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

He didn’t have a plan. 

Not really.

Finding himself caught in the jaws of an almighty storm, Cassian had parted ways with Azriel just a hairsbreadth from the gap in the wall, the rain hammering against his skin, numbing his cheeks, his fingers, and— he didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have anything— couldn’t even find the will to shield himself from the weather, being entirely too far gone to care about the chill that seeped through his leathers, the rain that slipped down the back of his neck. 

All he had was the ache inside, the pull that drew him, evermore, towards her.

Nesta.

The storm raged, and the rumbling sky found an echo inside Cassian’s chest, a twin in his labouring heart. He had to find her, had to see her, and no tempest great or small could stop him now, could make him change his mind. As Azriel winnowed away - with a dry good luck tossed over his shoulder, almost swallowed by the wind - Cassian took a deep breath, tasted the petrichor in the air, and let the rain sweep across his cheeks, washing away everything else but that deep-rooted need, that one singular purpose that had belied his every thought, every move, every breath for weeks now.

He had to see her.

So he had flown the rest of the way alone, through the punishing, bruising rain, with every heartbeat stuttering out in the shape of her name. It was a steady rhythm carrying him through the darkness, undercut by a swell of desperation, a longing so intense he could barely breathe. It grew teeth the closer he came to her, the miles between them falling away as he crossed the distance, and when he landed roughly at last, shaking the rain from his eyes… for the first time in a long, long time Cassian felt brittle.

His siphons shone weakly in the dim, the raindrops that scattered across the faceted surface turning to broken rubies as he found himself standing in the courtyard before Nesta’s house, looking up at the roof she shared with her husband. The wind ravaged his cheeks and tore at his skin, and as the storm hammered against the thin window panes, it was all Cassian could do to weave a hasty glamour and try and figure out what the hell came next. 

It wasn’t like he could knock on the front door.

And he’d always worn his heart on his sleeve but fucking hell… this was something else. He’d crossed the length of this entire land in one night just to see her— how could he play that off, play it down? He couldn’t— he was a commander without command, a strategist with no strategy. He was just a man, standing in the downpour, searching for home and trying to find it looking up at her window.

He just… had to see her.

It was the only thing he knew with any real certainty, some kind of instinct that had him standing there in the deepest part of the night, doing nothing to shield himself from the weather. With the driving rain dripping from his leathers, slinking down the back of his neck, Cassian thought he might just have understood then, in that moment, what the bards wrote songs about. That insistent, urgent feeling inside his chest— it was what they wrote ballads about. 

And it had him not just throwing caution to the wind but launching it, abandoning any semblance of prudent thought entirely as, at last, the fragments of a plan started to form, drawing together in his tired, rain-addled mind. 

Because there was only one person in this entire world that could see him— would see him every time. Not in this world or the next was there another that could see through his glamour as easily as she could his bullshit, cocksure posturing. There was only one— only her.

So he let his siphons flare.

Channeling every ounce of power he could into those stones, he willed them brighter, brighter, brighter. It was like dragging a heavy weight through thick mud, like trying to shift the earth with his bare hands as he pushed and pushed and pushed against the magic of the wall— the magic that left his senses, his powers, muffled and dampened. He gritted his teeth, fists clenched and eyes closed tight against the strain, pushing and pushing and pushing— until those stones ignited, a ruby beacon cutting through the falling rain, illuminating the darkness. 

Like one of the knights from her books, he was all but throwing rocks at her window. Because only Nesta would see the light refracted through the rain, the crimson that sliced through the black, up towards the swollen sky. 

Suddenly, he felt the bond between them pulling hard, like being so close to her was making it tremble. It tugged sharply, making his breath stutter, and he wondered if she could feel it too. If it would wake her and urge her to look to the window. Lightning flashed and he hoped it did, hoped she would hear it— the sound of his heart reaching for hers, like a call and an answer. 

And maybe she did— maybe she could, because as he watched, a soft golden light flickered to life in an upstairs window, the gentle glow of a candle shining behind aged glass. 

He didn’t breathe.

The minutes stretched like hours, like days, and Cassian felt each one leave a mark, a scar, as he waited. Thunder rolled across the sky above, a distant tremble, but one that masked the creaking of the hinges when, at last, that window was pushed open. The old wooden frame strained and creaked, but Cassian didn’t care, couldn’t care, not when the sight of his mate opening it just enough to peer around its edges made a feral kind of ecstasy take up residence in his bones, in his veins. 

His heart stumbled as he looked up at her, blinking away the rain from his eyes and cursing each drop that marred his view of her, of the unbound hair that flowed past her shoulders and the surprised, slight, parting of her lips. 

Confusion flitted across her face, a crease forming between her brows as she leaned further over the window sill, one hand holding her candle, the other gripping the chipped wooden frame as she opened her mouth again, as though trying to speak yet unable to find the words. Cassian let his siphons stop shining, pulling his power back into himself as he felt a smile curve his lips. 

“Are you— are you insane?” she hissed, her voice a whisper almost swallowed by the sound of the rain.

Cassian shook out his wings, moving until he was right beneath her window. He let out a low laugh, shaking his head ruefully as water dripped from his hair and down his forehead, rivulets falling across his cheeks.

“Evidently.”

He heard the breath that left her, one of surprise as her fingers tightened around the sill. Her candle flame wavered, threatening to gutter in the wind, and yet he didn’t care. Didn’t care for the storm, for the wind, for the darkness. He cared only that she was there, and he was here, looking up at her like he really was a knight from one of her stories. 

She only blinked, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath about stupid, ridiculous bats. Cassian felt his grin spread, growing wild as, with a single determined breath, she blew out her candle. She dipped back inside, and Cassian could swear he could hear her heartbeat, could swear it was racing as loudly as his own. When she appeared again, it was to close the window, her fingers curling around the iron latch as the rain lashed against the glass more forcefully than ever before.

“Wait for me,” she whispered.

Cassian nodded. 

After all, he’d been waiting for her all along, hadn’t he?

And then, before he could so much as catch his breath, the front door was opening. Old wood groaned, creaked, but Nesta was there, with nothing but a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to guard against the weather. She ran towards him across broken paving in bare feet already soaked, and Cassian was running too, lurching forwards, hands reaching for her, grasping, like his desperation had suddenly spilled, boiled over. 

Before she could speak, before she could ask him what he was doing or chide him for coming so late…

Cassian kissed her.

Crushing her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and using his wings to stretch around them both, giving them some kind of shelter… he claimed her lips with his own, urgent and demanding and insistent, a kiss borne of absolute need, of longing so visceral it had all but torn him apart. He kissed her as though he’d never get another chance, as though this were their first, all over again. 

And cauldron boil him alive— there was nothing in the world worth more than this, nothing that could have made him leave her. 

Her skin was slick with rain when his palms bushed her cheeks, and yet it didn’t seem to matter. Didn’t matter, either, that they were in the courtyard of her husband’s home, holding tight to one another as the storm waged war on the sky above. She melted into him, and he into her, and every inch of his desperation was matched, paired— every ounce of yearning echoed as her hands slipped into his hair, grasping and tugging at his skin, as though close weren’t quite close enough, as though the air between them was too much.

Her breath stuttered, heaved, her heart pounding like a drum and gods, Cassian thought it was a drum he’d been marching to all along, he just hadn’t known it.

Because he knew Nesta, down to his bones. 

Down to the cavern within himself where, even now, her name was whispered like the answer to some long-asked question, like a secret that only the two of them understood. He knew her, like she was a piece of his soul he’d been missing. He felt it— felt every part and piece of himself settling when his lips met hers, like he had found home at last after centuries of drifting. 

He pulled back, tracking her face as the rain dripped from her eyelashes. He catalogued it all— the curve of her jaw, the dip above the centre of her lips, the tip of her nose. Nesta— his Nesta.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered as he framed her face with his hands, dragging his thumb over her cheekbones with something like wonder as he watched the storm swallow those eyes of silver-blue.

He shook the rain from his face, feeling it drip from his jaw, from the ends of his hair. 

“I had to see you,” he said, his voice rough and gravelly, eyes still scanning her face— searching, finding. “I had to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” she asked, her hands slipping over his leathers until her chilled fingers laced together at the nape of his neck, holding him in the circle of her arms as he kept her face cradled between his palms like something precious. 

“I’m tired of pretending, Nes,” he answered, feeling the weight of the words in his chest, in his throat. “I’m done acting like you’re anything other than my entire world. I don’t want to live without you— I can’t live without you.”

He wouldn’t tell her about the bond. Not that much— not yet, but as he pulled back an inch, letting his hands drop from her cheeks as one hand fisted over his heart, he felt the bond aching between them, reverberating through his entire frame as he looked at her through sheets of rain, falling so thick it was almost impossible to see through. Still, he kept one wing stretched to cover her hair, her shoulders, to keep the rain from soaking her entirely. Cassian let himself breathe a laugh, let the rain drown him, coat him, as he felt himself grow tremulous and tender when her eyes met his.

“And here I was expecting something cocky and sarcastic,” Nesta answered. Her voice was as raw as his own, and gods save him, he let out a laugh that clawed its way up his throat as he shook his head, too far gone to even pretend at flirtation.

“I’m past cocky right now, sweetheart,” he said in a rasping whisper, his words a plea— some desperate kind of entreaty. Nevertheless, he felt his lips quirk up into a small smile, one that was there and gone, falling away as his hand tightened over his heart. “Give me five minutes and I might be able to muster something, some filthy innuendo, but… Gods, you have no idea, do you? What you do to me?”

She only blinked, the raindrops on her lashes the most wondrous thing, the most beautiful thing Cassian had ever fucking seen.

“You’re all I think about,” he continued, his voice fraught and frantic as his heart kicked hard behind his ribs. “All the fucking time. And after today, after everything with the queens, I needed you to know. I just...”

Lost for words, he stopped. 

He was as fragile as spun glass, barely a heartbeat from snapping. Weak— his bones felt weak, and yet… strengthened, when Nesta rested a hand atop the fist he still had closed over his chest. Cassian glanced up, saw the rain lingering on her skin like sheets of silver, and felt his heart stop. Felt it start again, in time with hers. 

“I needed you to know,” he finished slowly.

She looked over her shoulder, spared the darkened house behind her a single glance. Cassian didn’t breathe, couldn’t. How could he, when all of a sudden she was moving, reaching for him and weaving their fingers together, turning on her heel and all but running away from that house, yanking him forwards. Across the courtyard, over the paving stones thick with water, her bare feet splashing in the puddles— Nesta pulled him through the rain towards that tiny little stable block, where once she’d bandaged his bleeding hand.

Oh how far they had come since then.

And once they were inside, once Nesta had closed the door tight and drawn an iron bolt across, she whirled to face him, her nightgown clinging to her skin, soaked. Cassian took her in, noting every curve the fabric hugged, and even in the darkness, lit only by the light of his siphons and the meagre light of the moon struggling through the rain, her beauty stunned him. He wanted to drown in her, to spend the rest of his life memorising the tracks the rain left as the water dripped down her neck, wanted to trace them with his fingers until there was no part of her that he didn’t know as well as the back of his own hand. 

“Cassian,” Nesta whispered, her voice making his eyes track back up, to find her face. There was something in the way she said his name— something damn near holy that made him want to fall to his knees.

Still, he could barely speak, barely think. He could only shake his head, shifting the water from his wings and hair, letting the droplets land on the flagged stone floor. 

“Cass.”

Broken— he was broken, shattered by hearing his name - his nickname - on her lips. His chest cracked, the bond between them feeling tighter than ever, and gods— how did she not feel it? 

It had him closing that small distance between them and taking her face in his hands, lowering his mouth to hers and letting her claim him all over again with another kiss that marked him, broke him, healed him. It was like some kind of restraint had been snapped in the rain, and as her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his leathers so hard he could feel it even beneath the thickness of the material, he felt himself be undone, riven in two only to be made whole again by her kiss. 

“Nes,” he murmured against her lips, just because he could. Just because he liked the sound of it, the feel of it on his tongue. 

And as she pushed herself further against him, as her hands pulled at his rain-soaked hair, Cassian felt himself speak her name over and over and over again— a prayer, something sacred and sanctified, sacrosanct. 

Nes, Nes, Nes— over and over again, until he knew nothing else but the sound of it, nothing but the shape of it, the weight of it, the warmth of it. So much more than precious, and so, so much more than holy. 

***

It was an… unleashing.

Nesta had no other word for it, no other way of describing it except as a desperate, frantic… unleashing. Like magic between their souls, there was some kind of alchemy in the way he kissed her, a kind of sorcery in every touch. 

Cassian kissed her as the rain hammered on the tin roof. Kissed her as lightning flashed, forking across the sky outside. Thunder rumbled, shook the earth, and still he kissed her. By the light of his siphons, Cassian kissed her, and though it was several different kinds of reckless, a hundred shades of dangerous… Nesta kissed him too. Felt his hands running along her spine and relished his warmth, the thin fabric of her nightgown no barrier at all between them, the heat of him sinking into her skin, chasing away the chill. 

Her shawl slipped, fell to the floor, but neither of them seemed to notice. Cassian’s hands replaced it, curling around the curve of her shoulders, his palms skating a path down her arms, and still his lips had yet to leave hers. His kiss was wild, like he’d gone too long without her and this was the breaking of a dam, the sundering of all his defences. Like the meeting with the queens earlier today had brought some kind of realisation, some kind of epiphany. 

I don’t want to live without you.

Well, Nesta thought as her hands delved into his hair, her nails along his scalp, down, down until they reached his neck… she didn’t want to live without him either. She was grasping at him, her desperation matching every inch of his, and then his palms were on her waist, the contour of her fitting so perfectly in his hand, as though it were meant to be, as though they were always supposed to touch. She arced into him, on her tip-toes, feeling her head grow dizzy, the air grow thin.

Was his world crumbling at the edges too?

Did this kiss change everything for him the way it did her?

They’d kissed before but this— oh, this was different. Maybe it was because of the meeting with the queens, or maybe it was because of what he’d said outside in the rain, but Nesta could feel it somehow, something else that made her feel like the ground was shifting beneath her feet and the only solid thing in the world was the man before her, the hands that held her steady.

His hands still on her waist, Cassian herded her towards the wall— and Nesta let him, every step he gained one she acceded with grace, gave over to him entirely as she let him steer her, them, this. Her back hit stone— cold, rough stone, and then he was groaning against her lips, deepening the kiss - impossibly deeper, like a chasm with no end, a well with no bottom - until she couldn’t think of anything but his hands, his lips, the breath he let out that fluttered against her skin. Up— he lifted her up, setting her down on the small stone window ledge, cold beneath her, but as her legs wrapped around his waist, she swore nothing had ever felt so right as him standing in the cradle of her thighs, his hands braced on the stone either side of her.

Lightning shot through the sky outside, turning the stable briefly silver, silhouetting his wings.

But the thunder was nothing against the beating of her heart, the pounding behind her ribs as it threatened to crack. His lips moved to her ear now, and she could do nothing but tilt her head back, the expanse of skin at her neck bared to him entirely— his to devour. Her breath ached, trembled, and when his eyes flicked up to find hers, she found his gaze darkened with a desire so depthless there was never any hope of measuring it, of containing it.

“Gods, Nes,” he murmured, his voice a rasping breath against her skin as her hands found the hem of his rain-soaked jacket, dared to slipped beneath.

He found her lips again, groaning as her fingers grazed the leather, and then his hands were on top of hers, deftly slipping the buttons free, shoving his jacket roughly from his shoulders. He threw it in a corner without tearing his lips away, too focused on kissing her to care, to notice, to bother.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured as her hands traced the hem and the seams of his shirt, all the way to the collar, damp from the rain that had slid beneath his leathers. His eyes closed, thick eyelashes fluttering as her fingers brushed his neck.

Falling, she was falling, tipping right off the edge of the earth as her fingers curled in the fabric of that shirt, tightening until her nails hurt, until her knuckles strained. Too much space— he was kissing her like his life depended on it, but there was too much space, at least an inch between his chest and hers, and as Nesta continued to plummet, to drive down and down and down to depths she hadn’t even known existed until tonight… She used the grip she had on his shirt to bring him crashing into her, like an almighty wave against the shore. His hips hit hers, and the lightning that flared outside was mirrored in her blood, in her very centre.

Oh, they were so different in so many ways but in this they were the same. 

He was as undone by her as she was by him, and she wanted to keep unravelling, to let him take her apart piece by piece.

His shirt went the same way as his jacket, his nimble fingers joining hers until his skin was bare, his shirt tossed into the corner, cast aside. Even in the darkness, lit only by the fragmentary moonlight and the siphons on his hands, Nesta could see the tattoos that snaked down his arms and over his chest. Sweeping, cursive patterns had been inked into his skin— beautiful and intricate as she traced them with her fingers, her touch light as she followed those wayward, wandering lines. Over his shoulder, across his collarbone, down his chest… Cassian tipped his head back, letting her explore him with her fingertips, as though he were a map and she nothing but a weary traveller looking for a way home.

Her world had narrowed, contained within the spaces between those curving patterns spanning his chest, circling over his heart, and she wanted to fall, wanted to drown, wanted to lose herself in him entirely. Like a landslide, she could feel herself slipping, sliding— 

Cassian’s hands went to her calves, rounding her knee, palms skating over her thighs—

And she didn’t know when her nightgown had ridden up so high, but a jolt coursed through her as his fingers teased higher, as a sharp, aching want bloomed deep inside, blazed. He smirked, the fingers of his other hand rising up to trail a path down one of her arms, light and maddening and delectable as his touch ghosted across her forearm—

Another jolt ran through her, but different this time— almost pained. Because— 

Because there was a scar there, quicksilver in the moonlight. 

Cassian’s hand drifted across it, unknowing. Yet somewhere deep within her, a chamber unlocked that she’d bolted shut, unearthing a whole host of things she’d tried her hardest to bury— to forget. Suddenly, Nesta jerked, pulling back an inch as her mouth went dry.

It was barely an inch long, but Nesta remembered how the blood had dripped down to her wrist, remembered the burn of tears behind her eyes. Years had passed since the wooden rod had come down so hard on her skin, but Nesta swore she felt its impact anew as Cassian’s fingers alighted across that scar. 

I won’t have to marry him though, will I Mama?

A case of miniature portraits lying on the low table by the fire—

A picture of a man thirteen years her senior, almost old enough to be her father—

Her blood, mingling with spilled tears, falling to the carpet and staining it, blooming through the fibres as her mother’s voice echoed—

No man wants a wife that doesn’t know her place, Nesta.

With her breath sawing in her throat, she pressed a palm to Cassian’s chest— not pushing him away, but halting those fingers, stalling those kisses.

You’ll learn, one way or another. The only place for a woman in this world is as a dutiful wife— a jewel in her husband’s crown. 

Nesta had forgotten.

Oh, she’d forgotten.

Every time he’d kissed her, every time he’d touched her— she’d forgotten, had been lost and found and caught up in the delectable taste of him, the dizzying feeling of wanting and being wanted in return. And she’d forgotten, letting her walls come down— for Cassian, only for Cassian, but the way he brushed that scar had her remembering, now, why she’d built those walls so high in the first place. Why she needed them, what she’d been trying to hide from. 

“Hey,” he whispered now, pulling her back from the edge. An old kind of terror still slicked through her veins, settling heavy in her stomach as she felt the blood her mother had drawn spill afresh. His hand rested atop hers, flat against his chest, his palm against her knuckles as he let his touch linger lightly, just enough for her to know that he’d pull away if she wanted— he’d leave altogether if she asked. “What is it?”

“I can’t,” she breathed, grasping for breath, feeling it thin in her lungs. “I know it’s ridiculous, but I—”

I can’t cross that line, she longed to say. Even though that line is contradictory and hypocritical, even though I could kiss you until the sun comes up… 

She kept her eyes on the rise and fall of Cassian’s chest, on the tattoos that seemed to swallow the moonlight. She didn’t look to his face— couldn’t. And there, on her thumb, peeking out from beneath Cassian’s fingers, another scar shone like molten silver. Grandmama’s lesson— bestowed with a ruler. A broken sound cleaved her chest, caught somewhere between a sob and a strangled, laboured breath.

“I can’t,” she whispered again, realising now, for the first time, just how deep those scars really ran. She’d never let herself be vulnerable enough, she supposed, to feel the weight before and now— gods, now it was crushing her.

“I know, sweetheart,” he answered lightly, a small shrug lifting his shoulders, his eyes burning with a kind of tenderness she almost couldn’t bear. “I didn’t come here to bed you.”

Nesta looked wryly at his state of undress. At hers. His lips kicked up into a laconic smile that made her want to weep, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Something lurked in the hazel, something that flickered and glimmered and made her shiver, something that had him dipping his head and looking again at the scar on her thumb, at the one on her forearm.

Cassian’s eyes followed hers, finding the scar that wrapped around the base of her thumb and reached towards the heel of her hand. She’d told him once that her education had left her with scars— and as she watched, she saw him piece it together, realise that she hadn’t meant it figuratively but very, very literally. He frowned, lifting her palm from his chest and taking her hand more fully in his own, twisting it in the silvered light. He smoothed over that scar with the pad of his thumb, and Nesta felt her heart lurch, felt the ruler cut through her skin as though it had happened only yesterday.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “Tell me how you got these.”

She closed her eyes, pulling away even though the distance between his skin and hers made her want to keen.

“You don’t have to,” Cassian added a moment later. “But you should know that if he gave you a single one of these…” His gaze wandered to the window, as if he could see the house in the darkness beyond. “He won’t see another sunrise. I’ll slit his throat tonight—”

“It wasn’t Tomas,” Nesta cut in, waving her free hand as though it were nothing. Cassian caught it, held it, both of his hands now warm around her own. “It was— my mother’s way of making sure I remembered her lessons.”

“Her lessons.” 

A predatory, preternatural stillness had come over him, a darkness in his eyes and a tension in his shoulders. He still held her hands, but the siphon he wore had stopped glowing and was… pulsating, now. A muscle ticked in his jaw, his lips pressed thin as he tilted his head and in that moment… In that moment Nesta understood why others were afraid of him, this creature with the strength to end lives with his bare hands. She understood— but didn’t feel so much as a flicker of fear herself. Instead, her heart stuttered, tripped over itself.

She cast her eyes down as she nodded. “I told you once before. She taught me well that my worth lies only in what I can offer a man.”

He snarled. “And I told you that’s bullshit.”

“And one word from you is supposed to unravel everything, is it?” she asked with a raised eyebrow, pulling her hands free. She regretted it the moment his fingers were untangled from hers, missed his steady warmth. “To make me forget everything I was raised to be— to believe?”

“No,” he answered, softer this time. “No, I suppose it’s not.”

Nesta shook her head with a heavy exhale, the air feeling like lead in her lungs. His finger curled beneath her chin, urging her to meet his eye and when she did, she found the moonlight dappled across his face, the sincerity in his features enough to steal her breath entirely.

“I spent my entire life being told I wasn’t good enough,” he murmured. “I suppose that makes you and I the same.”

His finger remained against her chin, keeping her there, not allowing her to look away or hide from him, from his words. With his other hand, he brushed the hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear as Nesta shook her head, letting her eyes slide closed.

“She wanted more for me,” she said, her voice cracking. “More than what she wanted for Feyre or Elain. She was harder on me than she was on them, because I was the one that was supposed to—”

She broke off, the words like knives in her throat.

“I was the one that was supposed to marry a prince. To make some great match.” She let out a sardonic, bitter laugh. “She’d turn in her grave if she could see me now. How far I’ve fallen— how much I failed her.” 

Cassian hissed, his face darkening as his hand twisted in her unbound hair, strands of golden brown tangling around his fingers. 

“Don’t you dare,” he said sharply. “Don’t think like that.”

Nesta frowned. “It’s true, isn’t it? She made sure I could speak three languages. Taught me to run an estate the size of a small country, to navigate politics and royal courts like it was second nature. She made sure I could dance and play the piano and host great balls and banquets and what was any of it for?”

Once more, she waved a hand dismissively, and once more Cassian caught it. With the hand not wrapped in her hair, he brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed her skin once, twice, as if trying to heal her scars with the press of his lips. 

“And is that what you want?” he challenged, his voice rough and coarse, like the words were sharp on his tongue. “If things were different. If everything had gone exactly as she had planned…” He paused, searching her face as the moonlight picked out the gold in his hazel eyes. “Would you have been happy?”

Silence— there was only silence in reply, because Nesta didn’t know what to say, how to speak. The answer lurked at the edges of her mind, tangled up with the memory of piano lessons she’d never wanted to attend, all those questions she’d ever asked that had ended with tears.

Will he be nice, the man I marry? she’d asked once, achingly naive. Will he be young? Kind?

Mama had laughed— and laughed and laughed, and then grown quiet, flat. Does it matter? she’d asked in answer.

Cassian brushed his lips over her hand again, still twined with his own, and Nesta took a breath, one that came slightly easier than before— like he was a crutch to her somehow, the strength she needed when hers wavered. 

“No,” she said at last, and damn her— it still felt like a confession.

“So it doesn’t matter what she wanted,” he said with finality as Nesta let herself lean a little bit further into his warmth. He inhaled softly as his other hand brushed her hair back, his palm skating down to rest at the nape of her neck. He looked down at her thighs, still resting on either side of his hips. A wry smile pulled at his mouth. “I know that you’re married, and I know that should give me pause, but fuck me— it doesn’t. I don’t care about him. I care that you’re happy, that you’re safe, so I’ll take whatever you want to give me and treasure it.”

“Even if I can’t give you more than this?” she asked quietly. “Not yet. Not until—”

“The ring is on Elain’s finger,” he finished, shrugged. “I know.”

And just like that, with that one idle shrug, Nesta felt the sorrow begin to recede, like waves pulling away from shore— washed away by the rain that still hammered against the stone outside. She didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but his warmth soothed her right down to her bones, ensconcing her and wrapping her in an embrace so solid she felt nothing could ever penetrate it and… Safe— she felt safe with him.

Safe enough that, standing in her father’s study, she’d entertained the idea of running away with him. Of letting him take her away— far, far away. She closed her eyes, letting his touch ground her as his hands strayed to her face again, as if he couldn’t go more than a moment without holding her cheeks in his palms, and as his thumb stroked her cheekbone, the heel of his hand brushed the corner of her lips.

Cassian loosed a sigh. “Really, Nes. I came here because after that meeting with the queens today, I couldn’t let you go another day without knowing how much I…” His words trailed off as he shook his head, blinked slowly, and started again. “How much you have consumed me since the moment I saw you standing in your father’s dining room, looking at me like you were a breath away from stabbing me in the throat.”

“So you’ll be going now then?” she asked dryly, pressing her lips together to mask the easy smile that took her entirely by surprise, creeping up on her in the same way he had— slipping in between her jagged edges as easily as a puzzle piece. “Now you’ve said what you needed to?”

He huffed a laugh, dropping his head until they were brow to brow once more. “Do you want me to?”

“No.”

A shiver racked his body, his wings shuddering as she breathed him in like he was the only air she needed. He took a deep breath of his own, nudging his nose against hers as his hands went to her waist, encircled her and brought her closer.

“Lie with me, Nes,” he whispered. “Nothing more. Just let me lie here with you in my arms— let me pretend, just for tonight, that you’re all mine and I am all yours.”

Nesta frowned, looking behind him to the old pallet on the floor. Beside the set of shelves where she kept the healing supplies that had once bandaged his bleeding palm, an old wooden pallet was set out. She wrinkled her nose at it. It was covered with a pile of folded horse blankets, thick and clean but nevertheless smelling of hay and stone. 

“Where, precisely, would you like to lie?” she asked with a tersely raised eyebrow. “On the pallet that will barely take your weight, or in the hay with the horse?”

“I’ve slept in worse,” he shrugged. “And so have you.”

The cottage in the woods flared in her memory. Not exactly a stable, and not exactly a pallet but… She wanted to pretend too. Just once, just for tonight. She wanted to forget her scars, those old wounds that had yet to heal, and drown in the safety, the stability of his arms. Just until daybreak.

So she nodded, let him pull her away from that window, pull her down, sinking onto the pallet as he dragged her right back into his embrace. Against the pile of rough woollen blankets, he lay on his side. His wings stretched behind him, brushing the flagged stone floor, and Nesta found herself curling into him, one of his arms beneath her cheek as the other draped across her waist.

She’d never been held before.

And yet Cassian held her, one hand tracing lazy circles at her middle whilst the other buried itself in her hair. A touch that was soft and entirely foreign, Cassian held her just like he’d promised to— as if she were something to treasure. 

She shivered, thinking of all the things she’d long since buried— brought to the surface now, like Cassian reached every small part of her, saw it all and brought all of it to light, dragging her out of the darkness she’d been living in for so long. And oh, she felt herself relaxing into him now, safe in the knowledge that if she fell he would catch her, no matter the height. 

Lightning flashed once more, and as Cassian’s fingers wound around her loose hair she noticed the scars that marked him too, scattered across his chest. His own pain— his own suffering, evidenced on his skin just like hers. 

Her eyes fixed on a line above his heart and, reaching up, she traced that line of silvered flesh. It cut up, stretched diagonally towards his collarbone. Remembering how she had sliced his hand with an axe, had his blood flowing like a river in that very stable, she wondered how deep the blade had gone to leave such a reminder on his chest. His hand was smooth now where she’d cut him, and yet— 

Other wounds had gone deeper, left their mark.

How close to death had he been? How many times?

And why did that question make her feel nauseous? Make her want to find whoever had given him those scars and extract her own kind of vengeance? 

In the silence, Nesta counted six other scars on his chest alone. She traced each of them, learning their shape and feel until there was only one question she could ask, only one thing she needed to know.

“How?” she breathed, drifting to a mark that rounded his side, following the curve of his ribs— a jagged line left behind from a blow that had gone too deep. “How did you get these?”

Cassian’s arm tightened under her cheek, his hand sliding free of her hair and reaching round to cup the curve of her shoulder, drawing her closer. 

“Monsters, sweetheart,” he said mildly, glancing briefly at the scar near his collarbone. “Ones with very, very sharp teeth.”

Nesta shivered. “All of them?”

“Most,” he shrugged. His palm coasted down the side of her arm and she felt her skin erupt in gooseflesh, a chill crawling down her spine as she thought of what exactly had teeth sharp enough to scar a fae. Her fingers had yet to stray far from the one that followed the curve of his side, and her focus returned to it now as she felt his breath catch, felt the muscles beneath her hand tense.

“But that one… that one I got during the Blood Rite,” he said quietly.

“Blood Rite?”

Cassian hummed. “I told you once before. You and I are more alike than you realise. My education left me with scars, too.” He paused, looked up to the wooden rafters that formed the ceiling and shrugged again.

“All Illyrian boys take part in the Blood Rite when they finish their training. Once a year they dump the novices in a mountain range with no powers, no weapons, and wings bound. The goal is to stay alive long enough to climb our most sacred mountain - Ramiel - and touch the stone at the top.”

He paused again, but it was accompanied by a wry smile this time, something bittersweet.

“Only six have ever made it all the way. In all the centuries the Rite’s been held— only six.”

Nesta blinked. “Did you?” she asked, even though the way his lips curved made her wonder whether she needed to bother. “Make it all the way?”

He smirked, raising a single dark eyebrow. “Do you need to ask?”

Nesta rolled her eyes, but felt her chest ease at the arrogance, at the cocky glint in his eyes that somehow lifted some of the weight from his words. She batted at his chest with her hand, a gentle admonishment as he laughed beneath her, his smirk growing wider— like it didn’t matter that he was speaking of pain and trauma because she was here, and she was listening. 

“Az and Rhys made it too,” he continued as his hand moved up and down her arm, a soothing pattern. “Even though they separated us at first, tried to keep us apart. We found one another, killed our way across the foot of Ramiel and scaled it together.”

“With no weapons?” Nesta asked, raising an eyebrow. 

He shrugged.

“The Rite forces you to get… creative.”

Nesta suppressed a shudder, and suddenly Cassian’s hands caged hers against his chest as her fingers flattened over the swirls of ink.

“I got that scar the first day. They knock you out and dump you in one of three starting points on different sides of the mountain. When you start to wake… there’s a surge of violence, of killing. There’s old scores to settle, old rivalries to be put to bed, and Az and Rhys and I… We had more rivals than most. Az is a bastard and Rhys is a half-breed. They despised us.”

He took a breath, and Nesta tilted her head up, looking at the moonlight dappling his skin, refracted through the raindrops sliding down the windowpane. 

“I woke that first day, surrounded. Alone. There were six of them. One of them had found a rock with a sharp edge, broken it to make it even sharper. It was a lucky swipe, but he caught me right there as I fought the others off. Without our powers, we heal just as slowly as humans do. Just as prone to infection. It wasn’t a deep cut, but after a while it festered.”

“You could’ve died,” Nesta whispered. Cassian shrugged.

“Az was clever enough to remember that pine sap is an antiseptic. I found him on the second day— I probably wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”

“And then?”

“Then we found Rhys. Made it to the mountain, climbed to the top and touched the monolith that crowns it. We became Carynthian that day, just like the three others before us. No one else has made it since.”

She didn’t know what to say.

It was a past as brutal as her own, as strained and scattered with hurt, and he was right— they were the same, in oh so many ways, like he was a mirror to her. He recognised all the parts of her that Nesta didn’t even understand herself, soothing every edge in her that ached, and behind her ribs now, something pulled tight, making her heartbeat stutter.

And she still didn’t know what to say, so as the silence stretched, Nesta shook her head and sighed.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t die.”

Cassian’s lips split into an easy grin. “Gods, Nes. That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

She hit his chest again, and a laugh rumbled through him, deep and warm. He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair, and she could feel him smiling against her. Smiling, even as he spoke of death and horror and brutality— like she was a balm to all of it. Her eyes dropped to her thumb, and she understood. He was a balm to her, too.

She let her hands wander again, her fingers following the curve of his tattoos, over the dips and valleys of his chest. Up— over his collarbone, following the lines as they descended over his shoulders and down, right down to his wrists. She’d seen tattoos before— a travelling carnival had visited the village once, and with them had been a man so tattooed that even his face had been subsumed, the ink taking over his skin like ivy growing over a ruin. But Cassian’s… Cassian’s were different. 

Labyrinthine and ornate, twining and twisting and stretching over hardened muscle— They were beautiful, and she wondered how long they had been inked on his skin. How many centuries they’d been curving over those muscles, how many battles they’d seen.

Centuries.

He’d been alive for centuries, and the thought had a dry, ironic sort of laugh building in her throat. 

Will he be young?

Once, she’d been terrified of being given away to a man old enough to be her father. It had earned her that scar, caused her blood to spill, and yet now— here she was, lying in the arms of a creature so old her mind could barely comprehend it. The girl who had been taught to value her husband above all— scorning her place in his bed for a pallet in a stable.

And gods help her— Nesta couldn’t help the laugh that slipped from between her lips, breathless with the weight of so much fucking irony.

Cassian dipped his chin to look down at her, eyebrows raised. “What’s so funny?”

“I was insistent, once, that I didn’t want to marry an old man. Mama was furious. I spent my entire childhood living in fear that one day, she was going to sell me off to some rich widower fifty years older than me.” She looked up. “I couldn’t imagine anything worse at the time. And yet… Here I am.”

He grinned in answer, all teeth in the dark. “Here you are.”

Nesta poked him in the chest, surprised at how… easy it was between them. How effortlessly they slipped from baring their souls to light teasing, almost playful. It was easier than anything she’d ever known, like slipping out of one coat and into another, and it was something that only he could ever bring out in her, a part of herself she was only just starting to uncover.

“I bet you’re as old as the sun itself,” she added, still prodding at the centre of his chest with her finger. 

Cassian scoffed. “Now, now princess. Don’t get too cocky.”

Nesta smiled wickedly, feeling her blood heat again and her heart race as his hands made a path to her waist once more. Lower, resting on her hip.

“What about your old bones?” she asked. “Do your knees ache?”

Cassian barked a laugh, and before she could blink, he was rolling them over until he hovered over her, his lips at her ear. He kept his arm between her back, keeping her from being pressed uncomfortably into the pallet, and his teeth grazed her earlobe, a sharp nip that made her ache.

“The only time I’ll have aching knees is when I’m kneeling at your feet, sweetheart.” His voice dropped lower, husky. “But that won’t be the only thing aching.”

Nesta felt her cheeks heat. Cassian laughed against her, his breath warm on her neck as his weight pressed into her. He tilted his head, the expression on his face wicked and devilish and entirely sinful.

“I love it when you blush,” he said, mirth dancing in his eyes even as something deeper, something richer, lurked beneath. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, a hum vibrating in his throat as his mouth ghosted across her cheek, across the skin that blazed. “It might just be my favourite thing in the world.” 

Breathless, Nesta dug her fingertips into his shoulders. “You need to get out more, then.”

He chuckled against her. “Do I?” 

Nesta nodded, dazed. A weak hum began in her throat, but she couldn’t see it through, could barely breathe as Cassian’s weight bore down on her, his arm behind her keeping her caged against his chest. He was warm, so warm, encompassing her entirely, engulfing… 

And he knew.

He knew what he was doing. His eyes glinted in the darkness, his lips pulling into a smirk as the way he looked at her had her feeling dizzy.

“There it is,” he murmured, his smirk growing as her blush deepened. 

And she wished he couldn’t see so well in the dark, wished the falling rain could somehow wash away the heat that flooded her cheeks, to stop him being so bloody cocky.

“I hate you.”

“No, you really don’t.” 

Words. Nesta needed words but—

He dragged a hand down her side, leaving her skin tingling in his wake. His wings stretched above him, blocking out the weak light of the moon, before coming down to cage them both in. His head dropped, resting at the crook of her neck, his lips whispering against her collarbone. She brushed the curls that fell haphazard over his forehead, dragging her fingers through the strands that reached his shoulders. It was his turn to shiver, his hand tightening at her hip as her fingers carded through his hair. 

And, emboldened, Nesta reached up, lifting her hand with her knuckles curled. Cassian stilled, but he didn’t stop her as she reached out, tentatively stretching for those wings. He only lifted his head, and turned his face to brush the underside of her wrist with his lips as the back of her hand came to rest lightly against the thick membrane of one wing.

His eyes were wide— wider than she’d ever seen before, the hazel swimming with something she couldn’t quite read, as if this moment were bigger than she knew, more important than she could imagine. She let her hand flatten, her fingers splayed across the smooth surface, and Cassian closed his eyes tight, scrunched together as his breathing grew heavy.

“Gods,” he muttered as she dragged a finger along the outer edge. His hands tightened further at her hips, gripping her like he was trying desperately to hold on, fighting for control. Her fingers stuttered, suddenly unsure. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, letting her hand fall away from his wing to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, tracing the rounded curve.

He opened his eyes, swallowed. “Wrong?”

She watched as that look in his eyes softened, as he let loose a breath that seemed to tremble.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he continued. “It’s just— Illyrians don’t let just anybody touch their wings.”

“Oh,” Nesta breathed, her cheeks burning now, but not with desire— with something else, something like regret as she glanced up at the membrane stretching over her. “I’m sorry.”

Cassian laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It speaks to trust and devotion. I’ve never let anyone get close to my wings before, never let anybody touch them.”

“Oh,” Nesta said again.

“Oh,” he echoed, a grin on his face.

Silence settled, one that was comfortable, and after a stretch of time that could have been seconds or moments or minutes, Nesta let herself reach upwards again, reaching out for him, for the wings that she was the first to ever graze. His eyes closed, something like a purr resounding in his chest as she touched him once more, and that feeling in her chest grew stronger, swelled. 

“You really are a bat, she murmured as she tracked the ridges and the tendons that branched across the membrane. It was smooth beneath her, as soft as the most expensive, buttery kind of leather, and a kind of wonder ran through her, a tremor of curiosity entirely at odds with everything her mother had ever told her. She waited for the agony to come again, the fear and the apprehension… but with Cassian hovering above her, his hands on either side of her as if shielding her from the world beyond… It never came.

He rolled his eyes, nudging her cheek with his nose. 

And when she shivered in response, Cassian rolled to the side, pulling her into his chest with an arm around her shoulders. Using one wing, he covered them both, and Nesta might have thought up some remark - something witty about using him as a blanket - but she was tired, and he was warm, and calming, and the only sound that broke the silence was their easy breathing and the patter of the rain.

She closed her eyes, felt sleep pulling at her edges.

“In an ideal world,” Cassian began idly, in a voice that was slow and lazy, exhaustion beginning to claim him too. “We’d be in a bed in Velaris. With silk sheets and feather pillows.”

She hummed, drifting into that soft space right before dreaming, his voice at her ear. 

“We could stay there until the sun rose and fell again. Locked away in the House of Wind, high above the city where no one can reach us. Let the House bar the doors, let it bring us breakfast in bed.”

Nesta hummed again, and then— 

“How could a house bring us breakfast?” she asked, her eyes snapping open. 

She looked up, but found Cassian’s eyes still closed. He cracked one eye open, a lazy smile on his face as he pressed her head back against his chest.

“The House is spelled to provide.”

“You live in a magic house,” she said dryly. 

“I suppose I do,” he shrugged with a boyish grin, one that was innocent and cheeky, almost sweet. Nesta felt her heart pound once, twice, and then settle again. The wing that was draped across her shifted, shuddered, and then settled too.

Nesta hummed again, her mind wandering, straying to that city above the wall, that magic house. Oh, how much she wanted to see it. To be there— with him, exactly as he’d said. Mama’s lessons about duty and loyalty threatened to surge, ice rising in her blood, but Nesta pushed it down, forced it away. 

“And if war does come,” she began idly, letting her fingertips trace a pattern over his chest. “I suppose it would be easy for a person to go missing in the midst of it.”

Cassian tilted his head, a curious slant to his lips as he bit back a small smile. “It would,” he answered.

“So after Elain is married…”

“Velaris, Windhaven. Wherever— We’ll go wherever,” Cassian promised, and Nesta curled more tightly against his chest, her knees resting against his powerful thighs. 

“And what will we tell them?” she asked, flattening a palm over his chest. “Feyre. Rhysand.”

Cassian shrugged. “Oh, we could craft some elaborate tale about how wicked I am. How I ensnared you with my irresistible charms and spirited you away.”

Nesta snorted. “Then they’d know it was a lie.”

“Witch,” he murmured, dropping another kiss to her hair. 

“Brute,” she shot back, closing her eyes as his hand cradled her head. 

His chest shook beneath her as he laughed, and the sound had something inside her tightening, pulling. It hurt, her heart hurt, when she looked up at him and found him grinning deviously down at her, found him looking at her like having her in his arms was all he could ever want. It felt swollen in her chest, cutting short her breath. And as he inhaled deeply, letting his eyes slide closed again, Nesta felt… peace.

For the first time in her life, she felt peace.

“Go to sleep, Nes,” Cassian whispered.

She frowned. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

His siphons glowed, burning in the dark as he let loose a low groan. “You know, I love it when you argue with me.”

Nesta smiled but didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her face into his chest, relishing the feel of his arms around her, of his wing draped over her, protecting her from the chill. And even though her mother may well have killed her for this - for lying in his arms - Nesta felt it again, that soft, warm feeling as she drifted off to sleep.

Peace.

Taglist: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria @wannawriteyouabook @infiremetotakeachonce @melphss @hereforthenessian @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @the-lost-changeling

#nessian #nessian fic #begged & borrowed time #nessian fanfiction

[steakbeefee]

“Abusive Midoriya Inko” LET HER BE 😭😭😭 SHE’S TRYING HER BEST DON’T DO HER LIKE THAT 😭😭

#mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #inko midoriya #kody.txt #hating maiming that ao3 tag #girls just trying to get by do not drag her name across the mud like that wtf

[twinkleimagines]

frenemies

summary: You catch feelings for your nemesis Rafe Cameron and notice his change of how he started interacting with you, so you begin and hoping he feels the same, so you decide to take the risk to confront him and see what his true intentions are.

5.5k words

LONG!

Part two, part 3 , part four (final)

Warning: Language, smut, physical and verbal fighting.

Rafe Cameron.

The most loved and also the most hated Kook in the OBX.

You and your pogue friends despised this guy, or at least you were suppose to.

But for some reason, between all the bickering you two had done over the summer, you've managed to fall for him.

I know- what the fuck.

It blew your mind too. He was never nice. Always making fun of the Pogues, practically humiliating you all every chance he got. You guys were nothing but broke thieves who took whatever you wanted no matter who it hurt. You guys were scum, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, a bunch of nobody's that will never make it anywhere in life.

Which is obviously not true, but to Rafe - that's what you ‘dirty Pogues’ were.

You didn’t care for the name calling though. You honestly could say the same thing about the Kooks. They cheat their way into life, never have to work for anything , always have mommy and daddy's money to get them through any obstacle. But you knew not all Kooks were like that. Take your best friend Kiara for example. She's a 'kook' by the book, but by the streets she’s a Full Pogue at heart.

but for some reason though, Rafe would spend most his time trying to find a way to harass the shit out of you specifically. He could have a million Pogues around him yet he always found his way through the crowd to have some conversation with you even if it was to drag your name through the mud.

You first realized the feelings you had for Rafe when you began craving his presence.

It was the annual bonfire that you and your friends had went to , a place where all teens and young adults mixed from all clicks. Tourists, Pogues, and even Kooks. Everyone was there.

You stood next to the fire with JJ and Pope, two of your closest friends as the night grew louder, more people filling in. You watched the crowds as the piled up on the sand, but your eyes roamed for Rafe himself. You were almost mad at yourself for actively searching for him. And it wasn’t even like you were looking for him so you could avoid him, but searching so you could see him and hopefully grab his attention.

You continuously questioned yourself as to Why you were looking for this jerk off to begin with. All he was going to do was put you down and try to humiliate you in front of all of your friends.

But for some reason, when your eyes landed on that tall brown headed boy, his hair for once not greased back, a wide grin on his face as he wore a black t-shirt and a red cup in his hand- your heart fluttered. You began to grin slightly, seeing him in the distance.

Despite how much of an ass hole he was, Rafe was unbelievably hot. He was toned, Tall, jaw line so sharp it could probably cut you and you could get lost in those blue eyes of his. It excited you so much when he would give you attention. Even the negative attention. At this point you just enjoyed looking at him and hearing your name flow out of his mouth.

"earth to Y/n" JJ spoke out stepping out in front of you blocking your view to Rafe, and ultimately bringing you out of your trance.

“huh” you responded dumbfounded .

“Pope thinks I’m stupid for eating food with mold on it” JJ said throwing his hands up, you grin as you watched the blonde boy try to seriously defend his theory. Pope’s eyes widened throwing his hands up as well, looking towards you for agreement.

“It’s a Fungi bro! nothing good comes from Eating mold!” Pope argued back. JJ shook his head, disagreeing with Pope’s statement .

“dude, mold is good for you ok it’s just a natural organism “ He stated, dropping his hands down to his sides.

“You’re fucking nasty” You laughed out before pushing onto JJ’s shoulder. You hadn’t realized it yet, but your laugh caught a certain boy’s attention. the moment Rafe heard that familiar tune, his head turned to your direction, his eyes focused on you as you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well well well if it isn’t Ms. Sarah Cameron “ JJ spoke as he walked up towards one of your best friend, John B, and Rafe’s younger sister, Sarah. They both looked in your direction taking a few steps away from each other as if it wasn’t obvious that they were talking.

You didn’t hate Sarah per-say, but one time she did make out with your ex boyfriend while at a party. She claimed he told her he was single and she was just looking for a good night but Sarah was known for always wanting attention so you were doubtful on the fact that she was ‘unaware’ that he was your boyfriend.

You were the only one who knew John B’s crush on Sarah. He had started working for her father after his father went missing, and you were the only one who had caught on to his different approach when Sarah was ever mentioned, or how his cheeks would go slightly red when she would walk by. You didn’t blame him, the Cameron siblings were fucking hot.

“Hi JJ’ Sarah said with a grin. You stood to the side of Pope, looking around for Kiara, only to find her sat with a group of more Pogues talking their heads off.

JJ began trying to include Sarah into his previous ‘mold is good for you’ argument while your focus drifted off, your eyes roaming the crowd once again.

You managed to look back over to where you had first saw Rafe standing, only this time he was no where to be found.

“sarah baby c’mon” you heard someone say. You looked over, Your eyes widening to see Rafe and Topper standing in front of you next to Sarah. You knew this wasn’t a group that needed to be mixed, but seeing Rafe excited you. Your eyes landed on his, your heart beginning to flutter. You hated the fact that you two were enemies. It sucked looking at someone the way you did, knowing they were only looking back at you with hatred and pure disgust. At least you thought.

“Oh c’mon Topper can’t the girl just have a little fun?” JJ laughed out, his alcohol clearly running through his veins.

“You Pogues don’t know the meaning of fun JJ” Topper laughed out. You rolled your eyes shaking your head.

“Go the fuck on Topper “ you spat out, your eyes lifting some towards Rafe before going back to Topper. You could feel yourself kicking up a sweat, maybe from the alcohol , or maybe from the fact that Rafe’s eyes were already on yours when you looked at him. He even had a smirk plastered on his face, probably from the fact he gets off on the fighting.

“Oooohhh someone’s ballsy tonight huh?” Topper laughed bringing the attention to you.

“No im just sick and tired of you stuck up kooks always trying to ruin a good time” You scoffed out, crossing your arms over chest.

“Y/n you wouldn’t know the meaning of a good time if it slapped you in the face alright?” Rafe said. He furrowed his brows together when he realized a smirk rising on your face once you looked over at him. He didn’t know what to think considering the other times you were giving him an ‘ eat shit ‘ look, but this time it was almost as if you were happy he was commenting towards you.

“Oh right, having random hook ups and snorting a line of coke every night is a good time huh Rafe?” You scoffed out sarcastly. “ yeah I think I’ll pass” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“ Listen JJ you and your little bitch need to just go back to the cut where you came from-“ you glanced at Rafe, only to see him looking at Topper with anger as if he was upset at him for calling you that , but before you could further analyze his expression, JJ pushed against Topper’s chest, slinging Topper backwards.

“you watch your mouth” JJ spat out pointing his finger towards Topper’s face. John B quickly stepped in , pulling JJ back away from Topper who was now laughing like an idiot, excited for the action that he thought was about to happen.

“Yeah go ahead Johnny boy go ahead and play dad “ Topper spat out as John B continued practically dragging JJ away from the group. “just don’t go abandoning him like your dad did ” He yelled out. Your mouth flew open in shock, seeing John B stop in his tracks but before he could even respond, your hand slapped straight across Topper’s cheek, causing his head to bounce side ways.

“go suck on your moms tits some more you fucking prick” You scowled before turning on your heals, following your friends. You didn’t even bother to stick around for anymore commentary, your only goal at this point was getting your friends the hell away from here before all hell broke loose.

“never fails man” you heard JJ screamed out in anger as you made it to the parking lot all while Pope continued trying to hush them as they stood next to the twinkie.

“JJ chill!” Pope yelled out as he tried pushing JJ into the Volkswagen but to no avail.

“no man they always get to do and say whatever the hell they want and never get any repercussions for it !” he exclaimed.

He wasn’t wrong, they really did. And if the Pogues fought back they were deemed bad and out of control. You sighed heavily as you watched JJ try to calm himself down, only to realize you had left your phone on the Log you were originally sitting at by the fire.

“Fuck I’ll be right back” You stated, only for your arm to get grabbed by John B.

“No don’t go back there” He instructed but you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine I just left my phone. “ You exclaimed before making your way back down towards the crowd of people.

“Xcuse’ me “ you mumbled as you brushed past people, making your way to the fire.

“Y/n what happened?” Kiara asked popping up from the side, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later , meet you at the twinkie ok? go calm JJ down” You responded, pointing behind you with your thumb towards the van. She rolled her eyes, realizing it was a fight that had happened before turning around, making her way to your friends.

“Just can’t stay away can you?” You heard from behind you. You turn around to see none other than Rafe himself standing proudly. You rolled your eyes before turning back around, walking towards the fire once again. Despite you usually being excited to see him, tonight really put things into perspective for you.

You really were just a ‘dirty pogue’ to these guys, nothing more. There was no point to continue entertaining the thought of anything ever happening between the two of you. You were enemies, and that was all you’d ever be.

“I just came to get something Rafe go away” You huffed out.

“Oh you mean this?” He yelled out , making you stop in your track. You turned around to see Rafe holding your phone up, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Give me that” you demanded, reaching your hand out, but Rafe pulled back, pulling it out of your reach.

“Rafe!” You yelled out with anger. “Give me my fucking phone dude” You spat out , reaching out again.

“Well what’s in it for me?” he asked , that smirk still obvious on his face.

“Rafe , please” You sighed out, dropping your shoulders slowly giving up. Between the alcohol and it being so late, you didn’t have any energy in you at this point to argue and you were just ready to go home and crash. Rafe noticed the body change in you, his grin falling from his face.

“I’m sorry” he said softly as he held out your phone to you. You were shocked. Rafe apologizing? Nobody but his father had ever heard those words coming from him so for him to say this to you really took you by surprise.

You slowly took the phone from him, your brows furrowed together in confusion.

“uhm,” you said as you pulled your arm back towards yourself. “thanks” you mumbled before turning on your heels making your way back to your friends.

“Y/n stop arguing and just do it!” Your mom yelled at you as she pushed the cleaing cart your way. You had to work with your mom today at the country club unfortunately and you were not even the slightest bit happy about it. She needed help and ‘You teenagers don’t do anything for yourselves’ as she would say, so you were stuck cleaning the floors while she did whatever it is that she does.

“Okay!” you huffed out as you picked up the broom off of the cart, aggressively beginning to sweep against the floor. You rolled your eyes as she mumbled something else to you before walking away, leaving you to clean the room alone.

It wasn’t long after that you heard some familiar voices walking down the hall way towards the room you were in. It most definitely sounded like the horrible three, Topper, Kelce and Rafe. You quickly turned your back towards the door, hoping none of them would notice you since you were alone and you against 3 just didn’t sound like a good time. You continued sweeping as you heard the group laughing as they passed the room you were in, not even paying you no mind. You sighed with relief as you realized they hadn’t noticed you and continued back to sweeping the floors.

“Hey” you heard from behind you. You jumped up gasping loudly as you turned around quickly, only to see Rafe himself standing there .

“God – fuck Rafe you scared the shit out of me. “ You breathed out, your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your heart beat down.

“sorry” he responded. There was that word again that didn’t exist in Rafe’s dictionary. You caught yourself staring before you quickly snapped yourself out of your trance, placing your hand on your hip.

“What do you want Rafe?” You scoffed out. He smirked before walking over to one of the Desks that sat in the room. You watched as he sat down on the edge, grinning as he stared over at you.

“ Never seen you here before.” He stated. You rolled your eyes before you propped your elbow up on your broom, sighing heavily.

“my mom works here. I’m just helping” You exclaimed, not that it was any of his business anyway.

“Huh” He responded nodding his head. He kept quiet once again, leaving the room silent and you beyond confused. You eventually shook your head at him, indicating for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Look Rafe “ you started, standing yourself up straight. “I have to get back to work so unless you’re here for something important, you can go the fuck on” you finished. Rafe hopped off the edge of the desk, taking a few steps towards you , his body now hovering over yours. You began to feel your heart pound again, this time from the nerves as he stood so close to you. The smell of his cologne, grass and sweat from his Golfing lingering in your nose. you felt your hands begin getting clammy as you tried to hold your composer, your breath hitched in the back of your throat.

Rafe slowly lifted his hands, placing it under your chin, his blue eyes focused on yours. You didn’t know what to do at this point. You’ve had one on one Arguments with rafe before but none where he stood this close, and this quiet with you.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he lifted your chin, your face close together. He grinned once again, leaning in closer to you.

“You’re so beautiful” He said softly. You stared back into his blue eyes for a second before leaning in slightly. You were taken back though as he let go of your face , taking a step back and putting his hands in his pockets.

“ see ya” He responded calmy before walking back out of the room, following back to his friends.

You stood in shock, confused by Rafes actions. You were for sure positive that he was going to kiss you but he didn’t.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled before shaking your head in confusion at Rafe’s actions. You sighed heavily before sweeping your broom across the floor again, trying to regain your compose.

Most of your day went on like normal. You finished work with your mom, your mind only focused on your brief conversation you had with Rafe earlier.

It sucked because you had feelings towards Rafe, and you couldn’t tell if you were overthinking his actions or if he actually was in to you as well.

You had come to a conclusion though- it was one of two options. He was either fucking with you, or he wanted to fuck you. And you were determined to find out by tonight.

“Here goes nothing” You sighed to yourself as you stood outside TannyHill, the outside lights lighting up the big white house. You quickly jumped over the concrete fence, your feet landing in the wet grass.

Your eyes roamed the balcony, trying to remember which area you had seen Rafe standing at before. You bit your bottom lip as you concentrated, only to see Rafe himself walk by one of the windows.

“gotcha” You spoke softly before crouching down some, doing a quick jog across the field in hopes no one would see you.

You quickly managed to climb your way up the house onto the balcony you had just recently seen Rafe at. This was one of the pro’s of being a Pogue. You guys were very athletic and could always find your way to anything no matter the obstacles. You stood catching your breath as your feet finally landed on the wooden floor, the area barely lit by the light from the windows.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You said to yourself as you stood in the dark outside of what looked to be Rafe’s bedroom. You ran your hands through your hair, turning back around to face the field.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you said to yourself again as you began pacing. This is Rafe we’re talking about. Of course this man is just fucking with you. He’s been nothing but a dick to you and your friends for years. why in God’s name would he want you now? You knew you weren’t’ ugly. You were in shape, had decent hair (Even though you probably smelt like sweat sometimes because of how much you spent outside with the gang) But for the most part you cleaned up well.

Plenty of guys wanted you- but you looked nothing like any of the rich girls Rafe hooked up with. Why would he ever want you? It was clear that he was only acting this way towards you so him and his friends could have a good laugh later.

You shook your head in disbelief that you even had the balls to climb this guys house and actually think you could even ask him if he was interested in you. You began to climb back over before you heard a door open. You froze instantly, hoping they wouldn’t see you in the dark but that was just wishful thinking.

“Y/n?” You heard someone say. You mumbled a ‘ fuck’ as you recognized the voice to be Rafe.

“Uhm” You replied awkwardly as you climbed down, turning towards him to face him.

“Care to explain?” He asked throwing his hand up in your direction.

“Uhh” You said awkwardly as you ran your hand through your hair before placing them down your side.

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing climbing up my house at fucking 11 at night” he spat out. You flinched slightly at the harsh tone of his voice, your eyes roaming everywhere but his face , afraid to look at him in humiliation.

“okay so” you started, looking down at your feet. You stood for a second, wondering how you were going to explain yourself without sounding like ta total creep.

“Alight fuck it. “ you breathed out, looking up at Rafe. “You’ve been acting weird towards me, and being all like nice and flirty one minute and a complete ass the next and like – I just need clarification “ You exclaimed before you took in a deep breath, staring at Rafe as you waited for a response. You bit your bottom lip as he continued staring at you with a blank expression.

“Well?” You repeated, but he stayed quiet. You rolled your eyes, annoyed with the mind games he continued to play. “Rafe what is it? You like me or are you like fucking with me?” You spat out in frustration.

He finally changed his expression, this time a cocky smirk forming on his face. He reached out, grabbing one of your hands before walking backwards, leading you to follow him into his bedroom.

“uhh Rafe?” You questioned, confusion written all over your face as his eyes continued staring into yours.

“I’m not explaining myself” He finally spoke, his hair draped over his eyes as he looked down at you. You scrunched your face up as he reached behind you, closing the patio door. He chuckled slightly at your confusion before taking a step back away from you. “I’m just gonna show you” He exclaimed before pulling against your arm, leading you towards the bed before pushing against your shoulder, making you flop down. Your eyes widened as he walked over towards you, a smirk never leaving his face as his hand reached up, pushing away the stray hair in your face.

“You know, I’ve wanted to fuck you for quite sometime” He stated, leaning forward. “I mean look at you,-“ his eyes looked down and then back up your body, landing back onto your eyes, “You’re hot as fuck” He responded. You didn’t have a clue on what to say, so you continued in the same spot , sitting on his bed propped up on your hands behind you.

“You know for a pogue,” He finished, chucking as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Why didn’t you say anything ?” You finally spoke, looking up at him through your lashes. His cocky smirk left his face, only to return shortly after.

“Had to make sure the feelings mutual.” He replied , standing back up straight.

“and Who said it was?” You asked , trying to build your confidence back up. Rafe’s smirk widened before he let out a chuckle, his finger pointed out towards the balcony you were just climbing a few minutes ago.

“You did” he replied . you lowered your head some without responding, knowing he wasn’t wrong. HE stared down at you for a few seconds before he leaned in, the tip of his nose touching yours.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he stayed teasingly close.

“Hm” he hummed, not moving his face.

“Just fucking kiss me already” You demanded. Rafe happily obliged, his lips colliding with yours. Your hands immediately made their way to the back of his head, tugging on his hair.

“You wanna lay down for me ?” He asked after a few minutes of your tongues fighting for dominance. You didn’t respond other than nodding before you slowly laid yourself down, your eyes not leaving Rafe’s. Rafe grinned before unbuttoning your shorts, tugging on them. You lifted your hips up from the bed, helping him slide your shorts down as your teeth clamped down around your bottom lip. He stared at your hot pink panties, seeing the darkened area as you were already soaked.

“Soaking wet and I haven’t even touched you” He indicated. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as attempted to lower your head in embarrassment even though he could see you. Your mouth flew open as Rafe leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp panties, applying friction against your clit. You moaned out, leaning your head back as he placed the palm of his hand against you, rubbing up and down at a slow pace.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, his voice low and deep. You bit your bottom lip before nodding your head. Rafe grinned before he tugged on your panties, pulling them down to your ankles.

“Spread your legs open baby” He demanded , his voice calming but deep and intimidating.

You grinned before slowly spreading them open, his eyes focused on your heated core the whole time.

You laid your back flat against his bed as he got down on his knees, pulling you by your hips down to the edge of the bed, your bottom hanging off directly across his face .

“Rafe” You moaned out as you felt his warm tongue glide along your slit, his tongue stopping against your clit before he enclosed his lips, sucking slightly. He wiggled his tongue back and forth as his inserted his two index fingers into you, curving upwards. You gripped your hands against his navy blue sheets, gasping loudly as his fingers hit against your g-spot, sending tingling feelings through your body.

Rafe took one of his hands and trailed it up your stomach under your crop top, his hand groping around breasts.

You continued moaning loudly as his finger tips swirled around your nipples while his other hand continued moving rapidly against you, his eyes looking up at you in admiration.

Rafe lifted himself up, his face close to yours as his fingers continued moving inside you.

Y/n” he called out softly causing you to open your eyed and look over at him.

He placed his lips against yours as he slowly grinded himself against your side, pushing his rock hard shaft against you.

“You wanna do this?” He breathed out as he looked down at you, the pace of his fingers slowing down. You nodded looking up at him, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“Yes Rafe” you practically whined out. Rafe moved himself to where he was hovering over you, his lips placed against your neck as he pulled his joggers down some, his member popping against his abs. You breathed out deeply as you watched him line himself up before slowly sliding himself in.

“ fuck” He groaned out as he felt your walls wrap tightly against him. Rafe was not only long, but he was thick all the way around, filling you more than anyone had ever done before. You placed your arms around his neck, holding him close as he began moving his hips against you.

The room was silent, only the sounds of your deep breathing and small groaning from Rafe as he continued rocking his hips in you at a steady pace, one hand placed above your head as the other gripped tightly under your thigh to hold your leg up.

“Rafe go harder” You pleaded. Rafe instead stopped his movements completely before rolling you over onto your stomach. He pulled slightly against your hips causing your bottom to stick up in the air as your face was pressed into the bed.

You gasped loudly as Rafe inserted himself into you again from behind, the new position giving him access to going deeper in you, which was exactly what he did. You felt his hand land on the back of your head, pressing you deeper into the bed as he began grinding his hips deep into you. He began slow at first but then began giving you exactly what you wanted , slamming himself into you over and over again.

At this point the pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn’t hold the moaning in as he continued rocking his hips into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing the room.

“Fuck im gonna cum” Rafe groaned out deeply in your ear, the feeling of your tight warm walls around him bringing him close to his own climax. He began placing sloppy kisses on your back, his pace speeding up. You arched your back feeling yourself clench around him as you orgasmed, your clit pulsing. You whined out, tugging on his sheets as Rafe continued to pound into you, riding out your high.

“Fuck y/n “ Rafe groaned out as he quickly pulled out, pumping himself off shooting his load on your back.

You both stayed in the same position for a few more minutes as you tried catching your breath before Rafe grabbed a napkin from his nightstand, wiping your back off.

You rolled over, laying on your back as Rafe put his bottoms back On before looking back over at you out of breath. You grinned as your eyes roamed his glistening body, his abs very prominent and his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat.

“ You should’ve definitely came to me sooner” you finally spoke out with a giggle. He sat down on the edge if the bed chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, that was nice. “ He responded. The room became silent, you both just sitting awkwardly while you laid on his bed still naked. After a moment of silence, you finally sat up, pulling his top sheet with you while getting up off the bed.

“Soo” You said awkwardly as you wrapped the sheet over your sweaty body.

“you can use the front door ” He responded looking up at you. You almost wanted to slap him at this point, realizing he was indicating for you to leave. You scoffed while rolling your eyes before turning away, picking your clothing up off the floor.

“What?” He asked as he continued sitting on the edge of the bed, noticing you aggressively picking your clothes up in anger.

“Nothing Rafe” you mumbled as you pulled your shorts back up up your legs, turning your back towards him.

“Hey” He responded standing up, grabbing your hand after you pulled your top over your head.

“What” You replied back, looking up at him with anger.

“I wasn’t saying you had to leave now I was just saying you didn’t have to climb down the house again” He exclaimed. You stood for a second before shaking your head.

“I should go anyways, it’s late” You replied before walking over towards your shoes, sliding them on over you feet. “but don’t worry I’ll take the balcony so no one sees me”. Rafe wanted to reply to your comment but instead he stayed quiet as he watched you make your way back to his balcony before stopping, leaving your hand on the doorknob.

“Uhm” You spoke , causing him to look up at you. “I’ll see you later?” You stated, more like questioned just for your own clarification. He grinned before nodding his head, walking towards you. He walked you out to the balcony, helping you over the edge before watching you climb down to the ground to make sure you made it down safely.

You did a light jog back towards the concrete wall before turning around, looking up at the balcony. You grinned when you saw him still standing there watching you. You gave him a wave before turning on your feet, climbing back over the fence and going home.

***

Sorry I’ve been incognito for a while but ya girl is back 🥲

Also,

✨As always feedback, like, and a reblog is always appreciated ! ✨

Masterlist

#drew starkey #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfiction #drew starkey imagine #rafe cameron imagine #smut #obx fiction #drew starkey dirty imagine #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron dirty imagine #Rafe Cameron dirty fix #Rafe Cameron smut #obx smut #obx dirty imagine #obx dirty fic

[prismartist]

"Shrub?"

The way the name fell from Joey's lips startled him, the most gentle he's said it in months, but there was no reaction from the gnome that stood across from him, her face shuttered and devoid of... anything, her hand numbly carrying the reigns of the white horse she lead into his empire. She looks up at Joey slowly, and he sees her eyes, usually bright and searching, now dull and glazed over, so still it sends chills down his spine.

No, that wasn't it. What shocked Joey most of all, a shock so sharp it felt like a blade sinking into his chest, was the flash of crimson in her brown eyes, something dark hiding just under, crawling through her irises as if it were overtaking it.

After a while the gnome tilts her head; a delayed reaction. "What is it, Joey?" she asks. Her voice doesn't match how she holds herself at all. Aside from a slight croak suggesting a cold, it's otherwise normal, high and chippy, like there wasn't anything wrong. It's still Shrub inside of there, at least.

Maybe it's just a cold, then. Nothing to worry about.

(Joey knows it's not just a cold. It's too familiar to be.)

"Uh... nothing, nothing." Joey shrugs it off, regaining his composure and forcing his mighty tone back into his voice. "Well, I've seen you've brought me my horse, fungus girl! Fantastic. You may deposit him at the Earth Temple."

"Sure thing." A small tight smile forms on her face at the nickname. "Where might that be?" Shrub turns her head, and the blade sinks deeper into your flesh.

Red veins, small, barely noticeable, but there, are snaking up Shrub's neck. From them grow bright red mushrooms that seem too ethereal to exist, puncturing her pale skin. A new form for Joey, certainly, but the source is one he knows very, very well.

When she turns back to him, something gets caught in his throat. Because Joey knows. He knows what it's like to live with a hazy mind, with whispers plaguing your every thought and your very veins fighting against you, pulsing red against your skin as if trying to get out. He knows what it's like trying to convince yourself every day that you're you, that you're still the one in control, that it's your words that you're saying and it's your choice to bind and drag your former friends through the mud and into cells.

Joey knows what it's like to have someone take care of you, who reinvents your body and make you stronger than ever before. Joey knows what it's like to have a companion for the first time. Joey knows what it's like to have someone promise you everything and then grind you under their foot.

Even thinking of it squeezes Joey's lungs, makes him want to run, but in which direction, he does not know.

He steps towards Shrub, who studies him. Joey doesn't know what to do. Maybe he should bring her back to her home, get her rested up and call for help. Maybe he should bring her back to the temple, lay her on the altar and cut out her heart, searching for what remnant of his ex-lover she may have. It might do her good. He doesn't know. Healing was never Joey's strong suit.

Joey steps towards her. One foot, then the other. Until he's right in front of her, so close he can see the red running through her veins and hear the whispers ringing in her ears.

He wraps his arms around her. Condolences.

She doesn't hug him back.

#empires smp #empsmp #joey graceffa #shubble #empiresmp #empires smp fanfic #empires smp fanfiction #prismatic writing #gore tw #violence tw

[blu-joons]

He Overhears Fans Being Rude About You ~ Park Jinyoung

Your eyes looked to Jinyoung as soon as you heard your name be muttered by the group of girls behind you in the queue, searching to him to see if he had managed to pick up on it too.

“Y/N looks horrible when she stands next to Jinyoung,” you overheard one of them, “look at this photo of the two of them, poor Jinyoung looks mortified to be around her.”

Rather than speak up and let the group know that the two of you had heard, Jinyoung took a step closer towards you and slipped his hand in with yours, squeezing against your hand tightly. His heart was pounding as he listened to them speak, knowing that you were listening in to what they had to say completely tore him apart.

You weren’t sure if they knew that the two of you were in tune to their conversation or not, but that didn’t stop them from carrying on anyway, driving the knife further into your back as they continued to hurt you.

“Does she even wear makeup when she leaves the house?” One of them laughed, “has she ever even heard of a mirror?”

Yet again a squeeze of your hand came from Jinyoung, silently encouraging you to ignore what was being said. He didn’t want to create a scene, but as they continued to speak, his patience wore out more and more, biting down on his lip to try and keep himself composed.

“Do you think she’s being paid to date Jinyoung? Like a publicity stunt?” Another of them asked the rest of the group.

“He wouldn’t freely decide to date someone like Y/N, would he?”

A shiver ran down his spine as he heard them speak, glancing across at you as your eyes looked down to the floor, taking a couple of nervous steps forward as the queue moved ahead, unable to bring yourself to meet Jinyoung’s eye any longer.

You knew that as soon as you looked the floodgates would open, struggling to keep yourself together as you heard your name be bashed around in all directions from the girls behind you, dragged through the mud.

He wanted to ignore it, to keep you out of any harm, but as they spoke again, knocking your appearance, and then your career, Jinyoung had had enough.

The pride that he felt as a result of what you did was something that he couldn’t have questioned, puffing his cheeks out before turning around to face them all. Your eyes widened as you tried to pull Jinyoung back around, but he refused.

“He finally noticed us,” one of them squealed.

Jinyoung shot her a glare, quickly letting her know that he wasn’t keen to hear any of them talking. “I don’t know what sort of games you think you’re playing, or whether you think that you’re impressing me, but I suggest you quit it right now.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at them, sensing that their shoulders had dropped as at last they went quiet, relieved to hear your name not mentioned too.

“Do you really think that Y/N is the right person for you?”

“Absolutely,” Jinyoung instantly replied, “if you think I’m going to listen to the opinion of four teenage girls who just want a bit of attention, then you’re very mistaken, sorry.”

“We’re being honest.”

“No, you’re not,” Jinyoung happily corrected, “it’s people like you that mean idols can’t date, the types of people who are spiteful and vicious without never appreciating the situation.”

Before they could reply, the queue moved forwards again, as you tugged at Jinyoung’s coat to move him towards the till as one of the cashiers waved you down, relieved to get him away from the fans before he did something stupid.

You were silent other than talking to the cashier as you paid for your basket, not quite knowing how to act around Jinyoung as he let go of several deep breaths. The walk back to the car was silent for you both too, you sensed that Jinyoung needed a moment, opting to keep quiet until you were back in a comfortable space together again.

As soon as you were both in the car, you looked across at Jinyoung, smiling weakly as his eyes looked across to meet yours whilst fumbling around in his pocket for his keys.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me like that,” you told him.

His head shook in response to you, there was only so far, he could be pushed before he had to defend himself, and you, and those fans had most definitely overstepped his mark.

He took a moment to calm himself down before speaking up in reply to you. “I didn’t want to kick off and cause too much trouble, but when I feel that your name needs to be protected, I won’t ever stand back and do nothing about it.”

“What if you get in trouble for it?”

“Then so be it,” Jinyoung shrugged, “I don’t care if I get in trouble for it, when things go to far it’s my job to defend you and make sure that people realise just how amazing you are.”

Although his heart was in the right place, you couldn’t help but worry about the repercussions. You were never not going to be thankful for everything that Jinyoung did for you, but you didn’t want to get in the way of his own career either.

The comments of fans were something you had mostly learnt to deal with during your time dating Jinyoung, but even that group seemed to take things too far for you, they were relentless in attempting to push both of your buttons.

“Clearly not everything thinks I’m amazing.”

“Then I’ll make it my mission to prove to everyone just how amazing you are,” Jinyoung argued, “I won’t stop protecting you and defending you until I can absolutely sure that everyone who says they’re a fan of mine know how special you are.”

Your smile continued to grow as you listened to the sincerity in Jinyoung’s voice, not doubting for a second that that wasn’t a mission that he would end up giving himself.

“Your true fans support you in everything that you do,” you tried to remind him, “those girls weren’t fans of yours Jinyoung.”

“You’re right, they just wanted a reaction out of me, but I wasn’t going to stand back and let them talk about you like that.”

“I really appreciate that you protected me, I can’t lie, it feels nice to know that you were so willing to protect me, you didn’t leap in too soon, you stepped in when you felt it was right too.”

Jinyoung’s head nodded back at you, establishing once again that protection was always going to be something that he would give to you, no matter how big of a hole he dug for himself.

“Sometimes all it takes is a bit of confrontation for someone to realise that their words hurt, and that they’re untrue too,” Jinyoung mused, “it’ll take time to protect you from the world, but I won’t ever stop protecting you.”

As he turned the key in the ignition, revving the car up, you sat back much more comfortably in the chair. At last, Jinyoung was calm beside you as he began to drive away, feeling much happier in himself for defending your honour.

“I think maybe we should just head home and forget that happened, we can’t let one stupid thing dampen a great afternoon,” you suggested.

“You’re right, that’s a great idea.”

---

Masterlist

#got7 #got7 imagine #jinyoung #jinyoung imagine #park jinyoung #park jinyoung imagine #got7 reaction #got7 scenario #got7 jinyoung #got7 drabble #got7 one shot #got7 fluff #jinyoung scenario #jinyoung reaction #jinyoung drabble #jinyoung one shot #jinyoung fluff #kpop #kpop imagine

[theweasleysredhair]

An Exhibition of Muggle Duelling [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 2042

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: Angry George is hot. He’s even hotter when he’s fighting. Based on that scene - you know the one - in Order of the Phoenix.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @rexorangecouny @mytreec @hemmoporro @thisismysketchbook @acciotwinz @shadowsinger11 @aaannabbanana @lestersglitterglue @anyasthoughts @lxncelot @harrypotter289 @starlightweasley @slytherinsunrise @valwritesx @hufflrpuffforfred @cappsikle @kiwi-sloan @potter-redheads @pigwidgexn @twinkyjohnson @sarcasticallywitty15 @tyyyweasley @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @wonderful-writer @marauders-loving-queen @vogueweasley @marvelettesassemble @thisismynerdyself @gcdric @loony-loopy-lupinn @gloryekaterina @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes @wand3ringr0s3 @ickle-ronniekins @sehunasbitch @cryingforcrystalpepsi @kashishwrites @girl-next-door-writes @susceptible-but-siriusexual @crissdanvers @whiz-bangs78 @oh-for-merlins-sake @heavenlymidnight @aylinw3asley @vivianweasley @andineversawyoucoming @nkjktk | message or send an ask to be removed! unfortunately, my taglist is closed until further notice due to hitting the max. amount allowed on one post!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: shoutout to kaylah ( @pit-and-the-pen ) for finding the pages that the fight scene takes place and sending them to me - literal angel, thank you sm my love!! ❤️ also the ending isn’t great, i had a breakdown trying to figure out what to write, but hope you guys like it anyway 😂

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

Gryffindor had won.

It was supposed to be a happy occasion, despite the song Malfoy had gotten many of the Slytherin students to sing, but as you ran down the steps from the stand and onto the pitch, followed closely by Hermione, you realised something was wrong, Malfoy’s laughter being the most prominent sound.

You approached the Gryffindor team, wanting to make sure Harry was okay after the fall he took at the end of the game, though seeing Katie and Alicia hugging him assured you he would be fine.

“But we couldn’t find rhymes for fat and ugly - we wanted to sing about his mother, see. We couldn’t fit in useless loser either - for his father, you know-“ you heard Malfoy jeer.

“You’d know all about being a useless loser, wouldn’t you Malfoy?” You spoke out, arriving by George’s side as his arm automatically moved to slide around your waist, his head turning in Malfoy’s direction, jaw clenching as he realised what he was talking about.

“Leave it,” Angelina looked towards you and the twins, particularly Fred who had taken a step in Malfoy’s direction, “Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he’s just sore he lost, the jumped-up little-“

Malfoy smirked in yours and Harry’s direction, a nasty look on his face as he sneered, “But you like the Weasleys, don’t you Potter? And you, L/n.”

He spat out your surname with a grimace. You felt George trying to move and gripped his wrist, running your thumb softly over his skin. He swallowed, hands curling into fists as he glared at the blonde boy.

“Spend holidays there and everything, don’t you?” Malfoy continued, laughing with his usual sidekicks, enjoying the way he was winding you all up, “Can’t see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you’ve been dragged up by muggles even the Weasley’s hovel smells okay-“

George suddenly lunged forward out of your reach, his name leaving your lips just as Harry caught his arm, pulling him back and holding onto him, trying to prevent him from pouncing on the blonde.

Angelina and Alicia were holding Fred back, helped by Katie who had a grip on his shirt and one of his shoulders, though he was still struggling to get away from them, pulling them forward as they dragged him back.

Malfoy laughed again, the sound piercing your ears and making you scowl, “Or perhaps you can remember what your mother’s house stank like, Potter, and Weasley’s pigsty reminds you of it. And don’t get me started on you, L/n. The fact you’d even allow a Weasley to touch you-“

“You git-“ you yelled, moving to grab your wand. But before you could even throw a hex at him, Hermione grabbed your waist, keeping you back as you realised Harry had let go of George, and they were both now on top of the blonde boy, having shoved him down into the mud, throwing punch after punch. You stopped struggling as much as you watched the scene unfold before you.

“Harry! Harry!! George!! No!”

The Gryffindor chasers yelled out their names, but couldn’t do much more as they were still holding Fred back, who was still trying to get to Malfoy.

You held your wand loosely but couldn’t bring yourself to use it, watching as your boyfriend’s fist collided with Malfoy’s nose, his muscles straining and abs prominent as his Quidditch shirt rode up, showing off his toned back as he threw more punches, easily blocking Malfoy’s weak attempts at fighting back. He was swearing at the Slytherin boy, angry growls escaping his lips and you felt your mouth drop a little.

Swallowing, you couldn’t pull your eyes away from the scene, George’s ginger locks sticking to his forehead with sweat, both from the previous game and from fighting, a snarl on his face as he continued his attack.

You’d never seen him like this, so aggressive, so in control of his actual movements yet not his emotions as he allowed his anger to fuel him, his eyebrows furrowed, clenched fists accentuating the veins in his lower arms as he landed punch after punch, before suddenly Madam Hooch was yelling out, and he was hit by a spell, one that paused his actions - or rather, slowed them down.

Harry jumped to his feet, as the Quidditch coach yelled out, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Malfoy lay on the floor, curled in a ball however you could see his nose was bloody. Fred was still struggling to escape the grasp of the chasers. And George, his lip was swollen and he was breathing heavily, but otherwise he seemed okay, for which you were thankful.

He pulled his shirt back into place angrily, a string of curses being muttered under his breath. His hands were still pulled into fists, his biceps clenching under the jersey, his jaw tensing, before he and Harry headed up to the castle without another word, practically marching away angrily towards McGonagall’s office, under Madam Hooch’s orders.

Fred pulled himself away from the chasers, though he was careful not to hurt them, and they hesitantly released their grips, ready to pull him back again if he attempted to finish what his twin and Harry had started. He scowled as he turned towards the changing rooms, grabbing his broom and heading off.

Hermione let go of your waist and you stomped after Fred, who was grumbling under his breath, and though he nodded at you in reassurance he was okay, you knew the twins and anger didn’t usually end too well.

***

No one seemed to want to celebrate Gryffindor’s win after the match. In fact, you were sat in the common room completely alone, waiting for your boyfriend (and Harry) to come back from being reprimanded by McGonagall. Fred had sullenly stomped to his room a while ago without a word, simply kicking the wall beside the stairs in anger as he passed by it.

Even Angelina - who you’d expected to have been happy by her first win as a new Captain - had retired to her own dorm room with a frown, along with Alicia and Katie.

The common room felt odd, being so quiet, but you appreciated the calm. That was, until the portrait door slammed open and two familiar - angry - faces stormed in.

You didn’t have chance to acknowledge Harry before George had pulled you up off the couch and, despite his split lip, he brought you into a rough kiss, one that made your toes curl and caused your greeting to become muffled, his hands gripping your hips as he pressed himself against you.

His tongue ran across your bottom lip, before pushing into your mouth, desperately kissing you as though it were the last thing he’d ever do. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

You weren’t aware he’d started moving you until your back hit the stone wall beside the fireplace, his hand moving to grab your bum, travelling to the back of your thigh to lift it round his waist, his hips pressing against yours.

“Did you hear what he was fucking saying?” He mumbled against your lips, parting briefly to take a breath before kissing you again, “‘Bout my parents, and Harry’s Mum. And you- Merlin he’s lucky he didn’t say much more about you, he’d have had more than a broken nose, I’ll tell you that much.”

Your breathing was heavy, fanning across his lips as you replied, “Trust me, if he’d said much more, I’d have been right there with you breaking more than just his nose.”

He hummed, his mouth hovering over yours as his eyes grazed over your face, your leg still resting around his waist, your hands now gripping his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” You asked. Perhaps a redundant question, considering the events of the day, however as George briefly screwed his eyes shut before opening them again, you knew he understand what you meant - there was something else bothering him, and he knew you could tell.

“‘M fine, love,” he gave you a quick nod, before sighing at your pointed eyebrow raise, “Aside from being banned from Quidditch.”

You blinked, not expecting that answer, lips parting in surprise as his hand moved from your hip to your thigh, tracing random shapes on the skin showing, “Wait McGonagall banned you? She wouldn’t do that! She adores your team! They don’t stand a chance of winning without you!”

“Not her, the toad. Gave me, Freddie and Harry a lifelong ban. Can she even do that?” He swore aloud, his head dropping to your shoulder and you ran a hand through his ginger hair.

“Oh Georgie,” you breathed out, your heart almost breaking at the idea of him losing out on something he loved so much, “I’m sorry to say but you know as well as I do... she can pretty much do whatever she wants, sadly. She’s got the Ministry behind her. I’m so sorry.”

Your gaze moved to the back of your hand, where you knew there was light scarring from a previous detention with her, knowing that if she could get away with something like this, then she’d do it.

“‘S not your fault, is it? Should’ve controlled myself and not fought Malfoy. No matter how much the git bloody deserved it,” George curled his hands into fists as memories of the fight danced through his mind, a snarl setting across his features as he buried his face into your shoulder.

“He definitely deserved it. Least you got in a few good punches, eh? And if it wasn’t you, it would’ve been Fred. If it makes you feel any better though...” you trailed off, causing George to look up at you in anticipation of your next words, “I kinda maybe definitely thought that it was hot, the way you fought Malfoy. Just a little bit.”

He looked you up and down with a smirk, seemingly calming down at the revelation of this new information, “Me fighting is hot is it?”

“Oh Godric yes. You’re sexy when you’re angry anyway, but seeing you punching Malfoy?” You bit your lip and he let out a low groan, “Baby, that was attractive.”

George grinned cheekily, though a tad too wide causing his lip to split again, making him swear and dab at it with the collar of his shirt, reaching his other hand out to squeeze your thigh, “Well now I know that I might cause fights more often.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, watching as his tongue darted out across the cut, before leaning up to press your lips against his again. He kissed back immediately, almost as if he was waiting for you to do it, then began trailing kisses down your jaw, your eyes fluttering closed, before he pulled away suddenly, making you open them again, ready to protest.

“What is it about me fighting?” He asked, the corner of his mouth curling up, as if he was trying not to smile too smugly.

“Now you’re just begging for compliments,” you shook your head.

“Humour me. Humour me and I’ll go back to kissing you,” he countered.

You rolled your eyes, absent-mindedly moving to stroke his biceps through the Quidditch jersey he was still wearing, “Couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. Guess it’s your muscles...”

You pressed your lips together as your gaze caught his, “And how strong you are.”

“Strong?”

You hummed, fingertips dancing up his arms and towards his shoulders, “Oh yeah. You could hold my wrists above my head and I could struggle with everything I have and you’d keep me in place with ease.”

“That a hint?” His voice had dropped a few octaves as he brushed his lips against yours gently, grabbing both your wrists in one hand and pinning them against the wall above your head as you shot him a cheeky grin, gazing up at him.

“A challenge.”

His free hand was already moving under the material of your skirt, as he casually glanced over his shoulder towards the staircase to the dorm rooms, before pressing himself against you further, his lips hovering over yours once more,

“Oh yeah? Then challenge accepted, love.”

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 1)

Cellophane

Despite the U.A.’s insistence that the hero course wasn’t a spectacle for the rest of the world to watch, often when there was some free time, many students flocked to areas where the classes were training. They would lean against trees or pretend to be doing homework while watching the show of fire, explosions, and acid.

You were one of those observers. With a textbook in your lap, you sat beneath a tree with your friends, and watched 1A train their quirks.

The grass tickled at your legs and the sun warmed your skin. It was such a beautiful day despite the sounds of fighting. Occasionally a wash of warmth would flood over you as a large attack went off but you mostly ignored it.

“I think the green-haired one is the cutest,” one of the girls with you said. “He’s super sweet and clearly he’s really strong.”

“Have you seen the Todoroki boy though?” another responded. “Cute and brooding.”

You laughed, making a comment to more agree with the latter though you wouldn’t be interested in anybody as cold as that. Rumours floated around that he never spoke, not even to his own classmates. Many also believed his temper was as bad as his father’s given his massive attacks during the sports festival.

But you didn’t listen all too much to gossip about the hero course. Instead, you just enjoyed watching them in action and running away when their teacher spotted you all.

Luckily, today Eraserhead seemed preoccupied at the end of their class so most of the other students could hang around longer. While he was busy lecturing two of his students, the rest began making their way to the change rooms.

Almost instantly, everybody took advantage of being spared his glare and watched the heroes-in-training.

Some seemed uncomfortable with the rest of the school’s presence while others relished in it. You watched as the shortest of the group winked at every girl, he made eye contact with, including yourself and laughed as a girl from general studies attempted to confess to the most explosive hero of the class.

But it was a specific member who caught your eye and she waved excitedly when she saw you, hurrying over. “Hey!” she greeted. “Were you guys watching us train?”

You stood, brushing grass off your clothing, and smiling. “Yeah, we were. Couldn’t see much of you though, you were almost completely hidden.”

Mina sighed. “It’s so sad how these things happen. My acid doesn’t stand out too much amongst this group.”

You hadn’t known Mina for very long but your friendship was pretty strong. She had attached herself to you due to your talent with making her photos perfect (something of a challenge thanks to her skin tone often contrasting with everything).

Your other friends slipped away, clearly wanting better looks at whomever was being lectured. That kind of gossip went for a high price.

Somebody called for Mina and she gestured them over. “These are the best people in the hero course aside from yours truly,” she said. “Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero.” She gave them your name as well and you politely greeted them each.

“Your electricity is really impressive,” you told Kaminari. “Everybody talks about it when we’re watching the training.”

He smiled widely at that but Mina just groaned. “Of course, everybody notices the flashy quirk. Do you know how many people still think that my quirk is being pink?”

“It’s because they get distracted with bright lights and don’t notice the actual talent,” Sero told her playfully. “Don’t worry about it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s not true.”

He chuckled. “It so is.”

“I mean, I notice your quirk all the time,” you said. “And it doesn’t have any lights. You’re just extremely smooth while fighting so you draw the eye.”

He seemed doubtful about that, acting as though you were complimenting him just for the sake of it. “Sure, sure. But when Bakugou unleashes a couple explosions, I bet your attention moves directly to him.”

“It doesn’t. I can prove it also.”

“How so?”

You gestured to the tree. “I’m always sitting right here. Keep an eye out for me next time – you’ll see whose fighting I favour watching.”

Chargebolt

It was a good day for there to be a pipe burst just outside of school.

The sun was shining, there was almost no wind, and there weren’t any large assignments due for almost a week. Overall, everything surrounding the day made it perfect for some rest and relaxation.

Your friend group finally made it up to the crest of the hill and stared around at the beautiful landscape. The view was magnificent. Almost as awe-inspiring as the school that you now stood across from. Every person knew about the hero school U.A. and now you had seen it in person.

“Imagine what it must be like to train to be a hero,” you mused. “I’m sure I would absolutely despise every second of it.”

Everybody laughed, jokes spreading about how they would be too lazy for constant workouts or how their hero names would just be too embarrassing. One girl whose quirk allowed her to pop her eyeballs out made a joke about how her entire career would surround traumatizing children.

“Why hello,” a very high-pitched voice greeted.

You startled, looking down at the small boy. He had bright purple hair and a cocky smirk on his face that just screamed trouble.

Luckily for you, his attention was more focused on others.

“I’m guessing you ladies are here to admire the toughest heroes in the country, right?” he said. “Well, luckily for you, you’re looking at one of the best in the entire school.”

You snorted. “Are you even old enough to be walking around without your parent?”

“Nobody was asking you,” he retorted. “I was speaking to the absolute beauties before me.”

Yourself and two girls that he was ignoring took steps away. They seemed interested in fighting however while you just enjoyed the show. It wasn’t the first time that your group had been annoyed by pervs and you each had different ways of dealing with it.

While he was busy screaming in shock as two eyeballs fell from a girl’s skull, somebody approached you, looking rather embarrassed.

“I’m sorry about him,” the blond said. He kept a confident smile on but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’s not well-versed in speaking to beautiful woman.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, willing to play along with somebody who made eye contact before staring at your boobs. Unlike his friend. “And I’m guessing that you’re much better at that?”

“Oh definitely,” he said, stretching. He wore his U.A. uniform still but carried little of the arrogance you had come to expect from the school.

“Well, show me your best line then,” you said, turning to face him properly.

He startled at that. For a second, he eyed you cautiously as though your response was some kind of prank. Then he cleared his throat and said, “You owe me a drink.”

You smiled at the cheesiness. “And why is that?”

“Because you spilled it – wait, no, because you’re so beautiful that you made me spill it.”

You brought your hand to your mouth, laughing at the world’s most common pickup line that still managed to fail somehow. “Points for trying,” you said. “Though, I’ll give you a hint. When you go and hit on your next target, you can start with your name. Makes you seem a little less forward.”

He blushed at that but pointed to himself regardless. “I’m Denki Kaminari,” he introduced himself.

You offered your name. “And you’re a U.A. student?”

“Yeah, I’m in the hero course.”

“Oh that’s why you look so familiar,” you said. “I’ve seen you in the news before. You’re the electricity guy, right?”

He clicked his fingers and a spark jumped between them. Unfortunately, you were standing close enough that it then moved to you. It wasn’t powerful enough to hurt but you still jumped at the unexpected jolt.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

“No problem,” you replied with a smile. “It was nice meeting you Kaminari. I’m going to go and save your friend from being beaten up though. See you around!”

Creati

The rain was pouring down outside, whipping the trees around. It seemed to be desperate to reach where you stood beneath a roof outcropping. A few splashes landed on your shoes and you shuffled back further still.

Just one short run.

Holding your bag against your chest, you lowered your head and ran for it. The ground was slippery beneath your feet but you managed to keep your balance pretty well. At least, you did until somebody collided with you. Given how everybody was holding their heads down, it was inevitable.

You went down with a squelch into the mud, a sharp pain shooting through both knees and one arm. There was a yelp as the other person fell also.

Rain pounded on your heads. You glanced up to find another student sitting on her ass. She had been carrying her bag on her chest also which had saved it from the mud.

Your own was less lucky.

Cursing under your breath, you dragged yourself to your feet and held out a hand to her. You had to use your weaker one because it was the only part of you that wasn’t covered in mud.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologised.

“No, I am,” she said. “That was entirely my fault! I wasn’t looking where I was going and –“

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky and you both froze. Thinking at the same time, you put your apologies on hold to rush to the closest shelter, thankfully the entrance of the school that you were both heading into either way.

You looked down at your ruined uniform and groaned. It was going to be really difficult to clean and certainly wouldn’t be alright before class.

The girl was mud-splattered also. Flecks covered her face and the back of her high pony was dripping with the stuff.

“We’re making an awful mess…” you said, looking down at the floor.

Other students rushed past you guys, a few giving you curious looks.

“We can get slightly cleaned up in the bathroom,” she urged. “Come on.”

You followed her into the nearest bathroom and quickly went to work dropping your ruined bag in the corner and cleaning off your arms and legs. “I really am sorry,” you said when she let her hair down. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

She shook her head. “No, that really was my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“We’re both going to get into trouble with uniforms now though,” you said. “That’s not great. I was really hoping to fly under the radar today… what are you doing?”

She had lifted up the bottom of her shirt and her skin seemed to be glowing brightly. After a second, a perfectly folded skirt emerged. She took it and placed it in front of her before turning to you, “What size do you wear?”

“What?”

“I’ll make you some replacements quickly if you let me know what size you are.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You can do that?”

She nodded. “I’m going to make you another bag also so you can start taking all your stuff out.”

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “I really appreciate this but you don’t have to –“

“It doesn’t cost me anything,” she said with a smile.

Soon, you left the bathroom with a new uniform and bag. The only signs that you had even slipped was the occasional bit of mud that you had missed. She followed you out and the two of you soon came to a split in the corridors.

You reached out and rubbed some mud from her arm. “I should have known you were hero course,” you joked. “Thanks for everything and I really am sorry for running into you. Perhaps you can tell me your name? That way I can brag when you’re a famous hero one day.”

She blushed but held out her hand. “I’m Momo Yaoyorozu. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Deku

It all began in the early hours of the morning when the sun had just made its way over the horizon. Having arrived sooner than anticipated, you were standing outside with your friends and talking about various aspects of life. A topic that, inevitably, brought up quirks.

Everybody began messing around with their own. Some levitated their bags while others changed their hair colour – simple things that weren’t all too impressive but remained entertaining.

You played around with your own a little, relishing in the freedom that came with using it.

Something that always irritated you was the inability to use your quirk in public settings. Especially when it was something benign. For this reason, you adored your school more than most other locations. U.A. inspired a sense of relief due to its casual acceptance of pretty much anybody. No matter their size, quirk, or appearance.

By the time you had finished your conversation, you all had begun heading into the main building. You reached into your pocket to quickly realise that your phone was missing.

“See you guys in class,” you said to your friends, darting out to grab it again.

You exited the main door, scanning the area when somebody tapped your arm.

“Sorry, you left this outside.”

“Oh!” you said, taking your phone. “Thank you! I was just coming to look for this.”

The person who had helped you offered a cheery smile. He was recognisable in the way that all hero-course students were. They carried their personalities in their walks. Yet, his name completely escaped you.

“No problem,” he said. “I was really hoping I could find you instead of turning it in.”

The two of you walked back into the building alongside one another. “At least at a hero school, I don’t have to worry about it going missing,” you joked. “I feel like I should know your name but it’s just slipping from my mind, sorry.”

“Izuku Midoriya,” he said. “Why should you know my name?”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t know that 1A are basically local celebrities.”

He blushed at that, coughing as he scrambled to regain his composure. “I don’t… well, I don’t know about being famous or anything. We’re just regular students, really.”

“Except you’re attacked by villains constantly.”

“Except for that, yes.”

You laughed, drawing unneeded attention from other students in the hall. They were all staring and trying to figure out if they could spread any kind of gossip about this interaction. The local soap opera that was class 1A had many students involved in the happenings of others’ lives.

“So, I noticed you were using your quirk earlier,” Midoriya said, bringing your attention back to him. His hair helped him to stand out with its fluffy, green nature but his voice remained soft. “Do you have any pro-heroes in your family?”

“One of my aunts,” you said. “She inspired me to come to U.A. in the first place.”

He surprised you by immediately saying her hero name. When you didn’t initially respond, he gave you a quizzical look.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Your quirks are similar but not enough for immediate family,” he said. “Do you have the same limitations with your own? I know she has a weakness with it that many villains like to exploit which could be the reason why she’s never risen higher in the rankings… not that she isn’t a great hero, of course, but it’s a well-known flaw in her quirk.”

You chuckled at that. “I mean, well-known for a very small level hero,” you said. “The types of villains that she deals with hardly have the brain cells to remember their own names.”

“It doesn’t make her work any less important.”

You smiled at that, appreciative of the notion. “I don’t actually know much about her quirk,” you admitted. “My own is pretty lack-luster. I can experiment with it and let you know what I find out, if you really want to know.”

“Yeah! That would be great! I could – oh, wait, no that’s probably an odd thing to say…” he trailed off, looking lost in thought. “Well, just let me know?”

“Of course,” you said. “Bye! Have a great day.”

Your own classroom felt surprisingly uninteresting without him there. You looked around at all the familiar faces and smiled. It wasn’t like you wouldn’t see him again.

Dynamight

“What are you, a coward?”

You glanced up from your phone, the challenge lighting a spark in your eyes. “No,” you said. “I just don’t take bets that I know I’m going to lose.”

Sighing dramatically, your friend slumped back in her chair and toyed with the food in front of her. She huffed a stray strand of hair from her face. “You used to be fun,” she groaned. “What happened to the person who would take any dare, no matter how high the odds?”

“I just don’t see the point in wagering my daifuku, one of my favourite snacks by the way, on something pointless.”

“It’s not like you have to land a date, just talk to him for like a minimum of a minute.”

You glanced down at your dessert and contemplated her offer. The cafeteria was busy, as always, and you could hear almost four conversations going on at once. Most were unrelated to schoolwork but quite a few mentioned the infamous class 1A who were sitting on the opposite side of the room.

From where you were, you could make out a few of the more recognisable members, including the reason that everybody was discussing the class right now.

“I feel like you’re setting me up for failure,” you said. “He’s clearly in a bad mood already.”

“When is he not?”

Groaning, you stood up from the table and stretched a little. “If I come back uninjured, you have to double the payment, alright?”

Perhaps you had too much of a reputation already – or maybe people were just shameless eavesdroppers – but several perked up as you made your way toward the hero course’s regular tables. They were all prepared for some kind of show, be it from you or from the subject of your attention.

Class 1A’s personal explosive, Katsuki Bakugo had made a scene not too long ago, prompting the very dare that had you making you way over there.

His table hosted five people and you chose the pink girl’s seat to lean over once you arrived.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you greeted with a smile though your eyes held Bakugo’s.

He was agitated, that much was obvious, but you weren’t sure if it was the normal level or not. Your appearance definitely wasn’t a positive though.

“Who are you?” he snapped.

“An admirer,” you responded, allowing your attention to now rove over the other confused students. “Not just of you but of the entire hero course. I always wanted to apply but never quite got the marks so I was curious what its like. And you seem to be, by far, the most approachable of the lot.”

The girl you were standing beside snorted with laughter. “Good one,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Mina.”

You introduced yourself with a smile, keeping the majority of your attention on Bakugo. “I do know most of your names,” you said. “Though that’s not saying too much. You’re all over the school and the news most weeks.”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” she complained. “Do you want to sit with us?”

“I would love to,” you said, gladly taking a seat beside her and flashing Bakugo a bright smile. “Has anybody told you that your hair is adorable? Like it suits your whole aesthetic so well.”

“Fuck off.”

One of the other boys chuckled a little awkwardly but still responded with a shark-toothed grin. “Sorry, Bakugo doesn’t like compliments too much.”

“I don’t like them when they’re so clearly fake,” he scoffed, eyeing you up. “I know you morons struggle to understand but people don’t just come over to make friends. This is a dare of some kind, isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t make friends while winning some extra dessert,” you said.

“People dare each other to come say hi to us?” the blond electricity guy asked. He had a charger hanging from his mouth.

“Not all of you.”

Bakugo scoffed, standing up from his chair sharply. “Hope you lose,” he said, storming away from the table and disappearing into the crowd.

Earphone Jack

The words ‘joint class’ had seemed fun when it was first mentioned. It wasn’t often that you interacted with students outside of your course and many had presumed that it would be a simple way to split Present Mic’s focus between more people.

Unfortunately, you should have all seen the group project part coming.

“Working in the pro-hero industry will often have you alongside complete strangers,” it had been explained. “Whether on the battlefield or behind the scenes, you’re going to have some great times meeting new people and learning about your own limitations. I’ve chosen who I think you’ll get along with but I could be very wrong. We’ll have to see.”

You all groaned, already anticipating the lengthy assignment that would be coming up. It probably wouldn’t be as bad for the hero course students.

For the pairs, it was pretty expected. Nobody from the same course was working together and the majority of the pairs stuck to the same gender.

You understood why when you heard the small purple one start complaining about it being discriminatory or something.

Present Mic stood in front of your desk before you even knew it, a grin on his face.

Often, you thought that you were one of his favourites. You focused on his class and always actively engaged. Sometimes you would even see him outside of class and he would give you a great wave.

You really hoped that those kind sentiments carried over.

“You’re going to be working with Kyoka Jiro,” he announced. Then, leaning forward, he added, “The one with the purple hair and the audio jacks on her ears.”

Thankful that he hadn’t left you floundering, you stood up and took a deep breath. Going over and speaking to a new person shouldn’t be that hard but you really didn’t want to… still, it wasn’t optional.

“Hi,” you said when she looked up at your approach. “I believe we’re in a team. You’re Jiro, right?”

She rubbed the back of her head awkwardly but still smiled. “Yeah, that’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You sat down in the chair in front of her desk – vacant thanks to its occupant speaking to their own group member. “Present Mic said that he paired us up with people he thinks we’d get along with. Aside from my adoration of your hair, what else do we have in common?”

She reached up and touched her hair, laughing a little awkwardly. “Thank you. Maybe we both listen to the same music?”

“That could be it, what kind of things do you listen to?”

Jiro opened up at that question, immediately launching into a detailed conversation about her favourite and least favourite genres. You had heard of some of the bands that she mentioned but most were a little too obscure.

Then, you made a connection.

“Wait, your dad isn’t Kyotoku Jiro, is he?” you asked. “I used to listen to some of his old songs all the time.”

Jiro’s eyes lit up. “Really? He’s not extremely well-known so most people don’t know he even has songs but I’m super proud of my dad’s music. How did you find out about him?”

You were going to answer when Present Mic cleared his throat and you all turned your attention back to him.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” you whispered to Jiro.

The group project was actually far simpler than you had anticipated and probably could be done in the dedicated time you were provided with. Unfortunately, it seemed that Jiro and you were abysmally slow workers when together and so, you just had to spend more time together outside of class.

Even after it was handed in.

Froppy

Generally, you found that if you visited the pools just before lunch, there would be absolutely nobody there. It would be the perfect time to get some swimming done without worrying about interrupting anybody or feeling bad because you weren’t as fast as some of the hero course students.

You didn’t go every day but, when you had some spare time, you happily made your way to the pool.

About twenty minutes into your swimming though, you popped your head up to head up to hear somebody in the changing rooms. You knew that you shouldn’t get nervous. The pool was for everybody in the school and it was more than large enough that you could avoid social situations.

But still, your stomach churned.

You continued swimming, though now you were keeping your head up to watch for whoever came through the door. After what felt like forever, a small girl emerged with dark green hair.

She smiled when she saw you had noticed her and gave a friendly wave. “Hello.”

“Hi,” was your eloquent response.

She got in on the other side of the pool and you continued swimming your laps. For a while, you waited for her to start so that you could see how fast she swam but she just sat in the water with her eyes closed and her face turned to the sun.

You pulled yourself out of the pool to sit on the side, taking a brief break in your exercise. There was no need to be in pain tomorrow.

She opened her eyes and smiled at you. “You swim really well.”

“Oh,” you said, a blush igniting behind your cheeks. “Thank you. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

Her voice was croaky but not in an awkward way. You actually really enjoyed the sound of it – enough that you willingly engaged in the conversation in order to hear her speak.

“Are you sunbathing?” you asked.

“Soaking,” she responded. “My skin is more amphibian-like so I really need to keep it hydrated. I’m Tsu, by the way.”

You smiled and told her your name. She repeated it and you quickly found out that you really liked the way she said it. “Which course are you in?” you asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“I’m in the hero course,” she said. “It’s fun but it gets quite dangerous from time to time.”

“I would guess so… hopefully nothing too bad though.”

She shrugged. “I’ve nearly died once because a villain with a disintegration quirk tried to grab my face. That was terrifying.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

“Thankfully our teacher can take quirks away if he looks at you,” she said. “And then All Might arrived so everything ended well. I’m lucky that my quirk doesn’t hurt me or anything because lots of my other classmates have those kinds of issues. It’s just a little inconvenient to have to lounge in the pool every now and then.”

“I would pay good money to have that kind of quirk,” you said with a sigh. “I would use it to get here during super boring classes.”

“That’s what I’m doing right now.”

You both laughed.

“I only managed to get here early due to being given some time to do an assignment. Because I got it done last night, I’m just relaxing a little before lunch,” you explained. You checked the time on the large clock. “Actually, it looks like I may need to go and get changed.”

Time had slipped by faster than you realised and you quickly changed back into your school uniform after giving Tsu a wave. You were actually a little disappointed to think that you had to go back to class instead of swimming.

But you weren’t expecting to see Tsu standing outside when you exited, already changed into her uniform.

“I thought you may want to sit with me and my friends today,” she offered. “They’ve got pretty cool quirks and experiences in the hero course.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why not? I can already tell that we’re going to be good friends so we may as well start now.”

You chuckled, covering your mouth to hide your slight blush. “Alright then. I’d love to.”

Ingenium

U.A. was a massive building with many corridors and even more classrooms. You had waited outside for half an hour before giving up and heading in by yourself. It hadn’t seemed like too bad of an idea at the time.

Perhaps you should have waited for your guide a little longer.

You walked the first and second floors twice, constantly looking for anybody who you recognised. The day before, you had been introduced to your class and the elected class president who promised to show you around. Except now you were wondering the corridors alone and hoping that you got to your main room on time.

When it didn’t look like that was going to happen though, you had to bite the bullet and ask somebody for help. Something you had been hoping to avoid.

Many students surrounding you looked extremely intimidating. They were all in their own groups and it would be extremely uncomfortable to approach anybody. So you chose the sweetest-looking girl that you could and made your way to her.

“Hi,” you greeted. “I’m so sorry to bother you but could you possibly tell me how to get to my class. I just transferred over and I’m completely lost.”

She was adorable with bright eyes and rosy cheeks. A massive smile appeared on her face. “Of course!” she said. “Where do you need to go?”

The other members of her small group were looking at you but none seemed too unfriendly so you relaxed a little. “I’m in 1G, the support department? My class president was meant to help me around but she just never showed up.”

At that, the tallest of the group – a guy with glasses and an extremely fancy look to his face – said, “That is unacceptable. They just left you waiting?”

You startled at the question and stared up at him. “Uh… yeah? It isn’t too bad –“

“It’s ridiculous for your class president to leave you standing alone! Their very job is to ensure that every member of the class is comfortable and knowledgeable about various aspects of the school. As class 1A’s president, I shall take you to your homeroom and discuss this with whoever is failing in their duties.”

You blinked, trying desperately to keep up with him. “If it’s not interrupting anything, then I’d definitely appreciate a guide.”

“Of course,” he said. “Follow me, I’ll take you directly there.”

You bid goodbye to the adorable girl and hurried to catch up with the guy who was practically marching his way down the hall. From behind, you could see that large pipes came from his calves. You wondered how his quirk worked.

“Thank you for this,” you said, speed walking to keep up. You gave him your name and asked for his own.

“I’m Tenya Iida,” he introduced himself. “And I’m sorry that you have been let down by your class.”

“I’m sure they were just busy.”

“Did they say that they would help show you around?”

“Well, yes.”

“Then they should have kept that in mind while planning the rest of their engagements,” he said. “There’s no excuse to cancel plans without even notifying the other person. You could have gotten in trouble for arriving to class late or not being able to show up at all.”

That was something you had been worried about. It was never a great way to start at a new school and you would have undoubtedly broken some record for getting a detention.

“Thank you for helping,” you said. “I really appreciate it. Are you in the hero course or something?”

He pushed his glasses up and nodded proudly. “I am indeed. Though I would have given you assistance without my hero training because it’s simply the right thing to do.”

Once around the next corner, he stopped so suddenly that you nearly walked into his back. “This is your classroom.”

A large ‘G’ covered a massive door. Relief washed over you and you opened your mouth to thank him but he was marching into the classroom, heading directly for your class president.

Lemillion

In all honesty, your stress was climbing to new heights. With a test looming and work taking a great deal out of you, it was like walking through tar to try and get things done. Plus there was the ever-present threat of forgetting something and causing trouble for everybody around you.

So you made your way to the library most days and found a comfortable chair to sit in. Once there, you would page through whatever book was needed and work to get as much done as possible.

It was a boring routine but it needed to be done.

Most of the people around you were ignorable, though you didn’t mean it in a cruel way. It was just that you didn’t have enough brain power to focus on them at the moment.

But eventually, you had to take a break when your mind was swimming from studies. You closed the book and took a deep breath.

“Alright, so I’m going to pop in just after she starts class, right? I’ll come through the whiteboard so she doesn’t see me at first, then I’ll hold up the egg and say ‘Wow, this class is really egg-sausting’.”

“Won’t Miss Midnight take offense to that?”

“It’s about her quirk though, not her class.”

“But what if she takes it the wrong way?”

You laughed as softly as you dared, a small snort escaping before you caught it. The group that were speaking sat at the table next to your own. They were a group of three although the one guy wasn’t really involved in the conversation – rather, a blue haired girl discussed the blond guy’s planned jokes.

“I think Midnight has a good sense of humour,” the guy was reasoning. “She’ll laugh at it. Most of the teachers understand my jokes.”

“Don’t you remember when you told Ectoplasm that he was a freak in the sheets?”

That one got a proper chuckle out of you but you managed to keep it quiet enough that they didn’t notice your eavesdropping. Their discussion was certainly lightening the mood.

The guy blushed bright red. “I didn’t think of the other ways that could have been taken,” he admitted. “I was just speaking about those ghost costumes that everybody wears during Halloween, you know… Probably should have just made the boo-berry pie joke and left it there.”

You decided against taking a sip of water, focusing on trying not to laugh at the awful puns you were hearing. Maybe the guy’s quirk was related to telling bad jokes or something.

Or maybe he just had the best worse sense of humour.

They continued speaking for some time and you found yourself giggling at almost every joke that was made. It was hard to concentrate on your work anymore but you surprisingly still got some done and enjoyed every second of it.

You were actually rather disappointed when the group stood up to leave. Two of them headed out of the main door but the blond didn’t follow. You considered glancing around to find him but decided you didn’t want to seem creepy.

And then his face appeared in the middle of your homework.

You yelped in fright and stumbled backwards, nearly falling out of your chair. The guy was half-melded with the table but he laughed and you couldn’t help but smile. His excitement was contagious.

“Hello,” he greeted, standing up and no longer phasing through any solid items. “I’m Mirio. I just wanted to say hi before we left.”

“Oh,” you said. “Um… hi.” You gave him your name and blushed, realising that your eavesdropping hadn’t gone completely unnoticed. Still, he didn’t seem to mind it so you didn’t worry too much.

“I’ll see you around,” he said as he left, waving enthusiastically the entire time.

Phantom Thief

Most days, you relished in the opportunities to speak to new heroes about support items and what they needed to better their quirks. You enjoyed discussing with them and learning about their abilities, and you knew that many in your class had similar sentiments.

After all, that was the very reason that you were studying.

These reason were why you remained confused when your classmates were busy drawing straws when you walked in. None of them bothered to even tell you what was happening, just gesturing for you to take your straw.

You grabbed the closest one in confusion and pulled it out, revealing that luck wasn’t on your side that day.

“Congratulations,” one of the girls said. “You get to talk to Monoma. All the rest of us will be able to choose whoever we want within class 1B once they arrive.”

That was when you realised.

You hadn’t ever had the opportunity to work with the loudest member of the class before and you didn’t envy many that had. The stories they shared about hinted at a mild insanity or, at the very least, obnoxiousness that went unmatched. You definitely weren’t looking forward to that for a good part of your day.

But alas, when 1B entered the room to discuss their options for support items, you made your way over to the blond and gave him your best smile. “Would you mind if I asked you about some support items that you may need?”

His grin was massive as he turned to you. “Ah, I see you’re extremely excited for the opportunity to work with such an amazing quirk, right?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

That clearly wasn’t the answer he anticipated and he faltered a little at it. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble but I don’t think there’s anything here that would suit me. My quirk works brilliantly on its own.”

“I wouldn’t say its your quirk that does it all,” you said. “Obviously it requires a talented wielder in order to use it properly.”

His eyes narrowed at the compliment and he began looking over your shoulders, clearly thinking that this was a setup of some kind. After making sure nobody was watching, he very carefully said, “I suppose you’re right. Anyway, as I was saying, I don’t need any support items right now.”

“I get that but, if you ever need something in the future, just let me know,” you said. “In the meantime, I can brainstorm some general stuff based off your quirk. You can copy things, right?”

“Obviously,” he chuckled.

You nodded and began walking away, happy that your unorthodox plan had worked in mellowing him out. It was a guess that he wouldn’t be used to praise but it worked like an absolute charm.

“Wait!” he said, suddenly appearing next to you. “How am I meant to tell you my ideas if I don’t even know your name?”

You chuckled nervously, not having expected him to care about that part of your conversation. Before you had even thought about it though, you told him your name and he smiled even wider at that, if it was even possible.

“I’ve been looking for somebody who understands how good of a quirk I have,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulders unexpectedly. “And you seem to like it quite a bit.”

“Well, yes,” you said. “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

He stepped in front of you then and you watched as your own quirk manifested itself. “I like yours also,” he said. “It suits you.” For a split second, he smiled warmly.

You smiled at that, unable to help it as his expression became considerably more normal while he was using it. “Thank you. It’s not entirely impressive when you look at all the hero course’s quirks but I like it well enough.”

The quirk disappeared and his over-the-top smile reappeared. “Obviously it isn’t as good as mine,” he scoffed. “But don’t beat yourself up about that. Almost nobody can top me.”

For a second, the change confused you but then the class 1B president made her presence behind you known. She apologised and lectured Monoma on showing off instead of focusing but you didn’t entirely hear her. Your curiosity surrounding the blond had been piqued. How much of that arrogance was just a show for his class?

#my hero academia #bnha #sero hanta x reader #kaminari x reader #momo yaoyozoru #bakugou x reader #deku x reader #froppy #tsu x reader #monoma x reader #mirio x reader #iida x y/n #bnha scenarios

[souichioneshots]

Untitled Binzo x Reader Fic

SO uhhhh.... Binzo thinks about the reasons why he hates Y/N so much? IDK you guys are kinda like frenemies ???

This is the stupidest thing ive ever written...

Might make an NSFW continuation of this if anyone shows any interest tho lollll

Enjoy?????

Binzo could remember the day you two first met like it was yesterday.

He had been awoken by the sound of his father and uncle arguing in a nearby room. Although he could barely make out what they were saying, he could tell by the way he was screaming, his father had done something unbelievably stupid again.

As the door to his room slid open, Binzo quickly moved to ‘greet’ the sudden visitor, his chains holding him back just before he was able to reach the door. A smile spread across Binzo's face as he saw his father react in a panicked motion, jumping back to avoid his son's vicious attacks. However, Binzo's laughter was put to a stop when he saw a small figure move behind the older man.

Moving a bit to the side, Souichi revealed a girl, a little under Binzo’s age, who had been hiding behind him the entire time. She gripped onto the back of the false-gentleman’s suit jacket, obviously hesitant to enter the room.

Binzo's eyes widened in surprise as his father insisted, almost pushing her into the room forcefully. His eyes looked the girl up and down, trying to figure out why his father had brought her here, let alone why he decided it would be a good idea to bring her into the same room as him.

Her clothes were almost as tattered as his own. She had no shoes on her feet, but the socks that she wore were stained black with dirt and mud. From what he could see with the little lighting in his room, the exposed skin of her arms and legs were covered in scratches and bite marks. Her cold eyes stared at the pale boy as she walked in cautiously, immediately following the older man to the other side of the room. Binzo could remember how she ran her fingers through his father's greased-up hair as he placed the chains around her ankles. They exchanged a look that his mind could not understand at the time.

Getting up from the dirty floor, Souichi stated that the girl’s name was Y/N. A name so foreign to Binzo that he was sure it was made up.

As soon as his father finally left, Binzo tried to attack you. But, that was when he found out the truth. You were a monster just like him. An abomination that someone must have tried to get rid of, only for his own idiotic father to pick up and bring home like a kitten off the street. You bared your fangs at him as you backed away into the corner, trying to avoid his sudden yet expected attack. Binzo watched as you stayed low on the floor, staring at him with angered eyes.

He should have been happy to finally meet someone like him, but he wasn’t.

Binzo hated you.

You were an idiot. You could barely keep a hold on your victims, and on nights when you couldn’t secure a meal like him, you resorted to trying to catch and eat the bugs that crawled around the room. You were also idiotic enough to try to steal from him. Whenever he would get ahold of someone, you would try to get close and steal a small piece for yourself. Sometimes Binzo would be too busy to realize, but when he did, he would reach out as far as he could and use his long-sharp nails to scratch you away, leaving you to become a crying-hungry mess.

You also had a habit of not responding whenever he spoke to you. However, this was completely his fault. After you finally became comfortable enough to talk to him, he started to tease you, claiming that your voice was annoying and, using a piece of broken glass, threatening to cut out your pretty pink tongue to eat as a snack. From that day on, you didn’t utter a single word to him.

However, as time went by, Binzo started to find your presence to be slightly humorous. Specifically, whenever you tried to feed.

Binzo would always laugh whenever you dug your fangs too deep into someone’s neck and ended up getting completely doused in their blood when you pulled away. He thought it was a waste of a good drink, but worth it to see you freak out as you tried to stop the fast-paced bleeding.

Your hair also grew at an unnaturally fast rate as well. It was disgusting, but fun to pull on whenever he wanted to get your attention. It was also especially fun to watch your victims pull on your hair, stunning you for a moment, and getting a couple slaps and punches in as they tried to get away. But, Binzo wouldn’t allow that, stopping them at the last minute and dragging them back in your direction. However, you would always be too embarrassed and cry, refusing the meal he was kind enough to go after for you.

You were ungrateful. Idiotic. An amateur. Everything he hated bundled up into a small ball that dwelled in the corner of his room.

But on top of all that, the thing he hated the most was how you weren’t here now.

“Where’s Y/N!! Where is she!!” Binzo exclaimed to his physically and mentally exhausted aunt. She just stayed quiet, ignoring the child’s vicious words and actions. If she knew, she would have told him by now, but she didn’t.

Binzo looked around his dark messy room as he tried to think of what might have happened to you. It had been 2 nights since he last saw you.

If you had been moved to another room, he would be able to smell it. But you weren’t. You weren’t anywhere in the house in fact.

Could his father have decided that it was too much for him to support 2 cannibalistic children, and off’d you in the woods while he was sleeping? No way. He was the one who brought you here in the first place, he should have known what he was getting himself into.

Maybe you ran away, not wanting to be held captive and enslaved to work at a lunatic’s haunted house. That would explain why his father was also not around either. Maybe he had gone out in search of his most popular attraction.

No matter the reason, you weren’t here now, and Binzo hated you for that.

As the raven-haired boy finally started to calm down, he laid down in his cage, his eyes fluttered shut, unable to keep their focus on the door of his room anymore.

However, he was suddenly awoken by a loud scream.

It was his aunt. She had left the room, leaving him alone while he was asleep. Her voice was loud, but not angry. It sounded almost cheerful. An emotion he hadn’t heard from her in the longest time.

Binzo jumped to his feet as the door to his room slid open. There stood his father, alone from what he could see, cigar burning away in his mouth as he smiled. Binzo tightly gripped the bars of his cage, a feeling of rage boiled inside him like nothing he had ever felt before.

However, that emotion quickly washed away when he saw a familiar face appear from behind his father.

There you stood. Alive and in one piece.

Just like the first time you two had met, Souichi forced you into the room. Binzo’s eyes looked you up and down as you cautiously walked in. Gripping the hem of the older man's suit jacket, you stared back at the pale boy.

Your hair had been cut, shorter than before. You were also wearing a kimono similar to his aunt. You looked almost like a doll. It was weird how he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

Binzo watched as his father put the chains around your ankles again, your hand running through his greasy hair. You two exchanged that look he couldn’t understand again.

Binzo barely listened as his father warned him not to fuck up your clothes. As Souichi finally left the room, Binzo put his hands on the lock of his cage and, using his nails, undid it.

Crawling out of the cage, he stood onto his feet and he looked at you. Although he was still only in his early teens, he was starting to grow extremely tall, a gene he inherited from his mother no doubt.

Binzo felt his heart start to race as you looked up at him, your eyes sparkled as they reflected the small amount of light that leaked in the room. It was almost like you were giving him the same look you and his father would often exchange.

Without a word, he forcefully shoved you to the ground. “Stop looking at me!” He exclaimed.

You probably thought he was jealous that his father actually let you go out, got you nice clothes, and even treated you like you were an actual human being. But that was far from the truth. He didn't really mean to push you so hard, but his emotions had gotten the better of him.

Binzo yelled out in pain as you kicked him for pushing you so hard. Just before you could kick him again, he moved to straddle you.

Putting his weight onto your stomach, he held your wrists on both sides of your head. You growled as he brought his face close to your neck and took a deep breath. It had been so long since he smelled your scent. However, this time it was different.

“You smell delicious.” He said in a hungry voice, drool dripping from his lips as he showed you his fanged teeth. You squirmed under him, knowing that he didn’t mean that as a compliment. “I thought my dad killed you. But now I see that he just dolled you up so I can do it myself. Kishishishi!” Twisting your head to the side, you dug your fangs into his arm.

“OW! You bitch!” Binzo screamed as he pulled his arm away from you. His long fingernails left a scratch across your face as he slapped you hard.  

Baring your fangs once more, you pushed him off of you and rushed to get away. However, your chains didn't let you get far.

Binzo grabbed your legs just before you could go any further. His nails dug into the thick fabric that made up your kimono, tearing it a bit as he pulled you closer to him. Flipping you onto your back, he put himself on top of you.

You squirmed in a panic as the boy wrapped his arms and legs around you, restraining you from getting away. Not having eaten anything in a while, you soon became unable to continue fighting with the monstrous boy.

Binzo’s heartbeat slowed down as you started to relax, his body unconsciously trying to mimic the pace at which you breathed. You whined as he tightened his grip on you a bit more, making sure that you wouldn’t try to slip away from him again.

Pressing his head into your hair, he breathed in the new scents that covered your body. The smell of the brand new kimono you wore mixed with the fruity shampoo you had used made him doubt that you were really the same creature he had shared a room with 2 nights ago.

“Where did you go…?” He asked, his words slightly muffled by your hair.

Your body tensed as he dug his nails deeper into the fabric of your clothes, trying to force a reply out of you, but ultimately receiving nothing back.

He hated that you wouldn’t talk to him…

#binzo #binzo tsujii #binzo x reader #souichi x reader #souichi tsujii x reader #tw//violence? #like binzo is a mean bitch #ahaha #idk what im doing with my life anymore #just take this shit and block me please

[weelittleweasley]

love affair (g.w.)

prompt: a relationship with george weasley was all you wanted. but it seemed as though the two of you had two different ideas of what a relationship meant.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader, fred weasley x fem!platonic reader

warnings: cheating relationships, physical violence, tiny blood warning (literally one sentence), lots of angst, language

word count: 7.5k

author note: this is an amalgamation of me getting out of a very strange relationship six months ago, driver’s license by olivia rodrigo, and two ghosts by harry styles, so take that as you will. this made me sad to write. im so sorry. i also wrote this half tired so if it doesn't make sense, IM SO SORRY LMAO

Knees curled up to your chest, you wrapped your arms around your legs, forcing your body into a coddled position as you sat upon the window sill. Forehead pressed to the glass, the coolness of it made your warm forehead ease with the sensation, condensation fogging up the window pane as your eyes stared mindlessly out of the window. Small mouth sounds fell from your parted lips as you inhaled and exhaled deeply. In the fog on the pane, you dragged your finger across the condensation, drawing little figurines as you attempted to distract yourself from your wandering thoughts that flooded with panic at the news you had received moments ago.

Your pointer finger drew a small heart into the glass before you ripped it away. The sound of a deep tenor rumble resonated outside as small water droplets began pitter-pattering down onto the window. The rain was soothing in contrast to your current state, washing over the lush landscape of the Scottish countryside that Hogwarts castle stood proudly on. 

The rain renewed and refreshed the early autumnal landscape. Water struck upon delicate flowers and reached up to the pale gray sky, accepting the water gratefully. Like a stream in a forest, water rushed down the sides of the Whomping Willow as it twisted and shook off the rain as it poured down. The lush green grass absorbed the water, causing mud puddles to form in pockets across the ground. A smile creeped onto your face as you bit your bottom lip, thinking about how George would insist the next morning that you two go romp around in the mud, behaving like children. George loved mornings after the rain, the way the air was crisp, the smell of fresh dew, the soft ground beneath his yellow rain boots. 

But with the thought of George, your anxious thoughts swirled in your mind like a mixing bowl. You took a deep breath in and repeated to yourself that you would not like to jump to conclusions. This could have been a misunderstanding and Patricia Stimpson had just conveyed the message incorrectly. But the churning in your gut suggested otherwise.

The rain came down relentlessly now, thunder rumbling like a snare drum as darts of lightning flashed far away. The storm was far away, thankfully, which put your mind at ease. 

As a rumble of thunder rippled through, gentle knocks sounded at your door. Rather than getting up and greeting the expected visitor at the door, you lifted your wand beside you and with a gentle flick, the door creaked open just enough for him to push it open all the way.

Entering the room, George closes the door behind him. Without even saying a word, he knows you aren’t yourself. Something was troubling you and it was palpable. The way you curled up watching the rain trickle down the window as you followed it lazily with your finger. George sighs and walks towards you. “Awfully quiet today, aren’t we?” he speaks simply as he takes a seat across from you on the window sill, him sitting criss cross. 

You peel your eyes away from the window and give him a gentle smile as your mind screams to tell him to leave the room, you need space. But when you look at him, your heart swells with all the love you can conjure in your body. He was your George. How could he have done something so unthinkable, but your heart still leaped at the sight of him? You pushed the thought away; nothing was confirmed yet. “Hi, Georgie,” you speak quietly. He scoots closer to you, smile on his lips as he leans forward and presses a light kiss to your forehead. “There’s just a lot on my mind today.”

George peels your arms from around your legs and pulls on them gently, making you wrap your legs around his waist as you huff, giving into his touch. Now, you were wrapped around him like a koala would be, his hands resting on your hips as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “Would you like to share with the class?” he jokes as you give him a look that tells him you were serious. He clears his throat. “Sorry, darling,” he smiles. “What’s bothering you? You can tell me...I don’t like seeing you upset. Especially if it is something I can prevent.”

How ironic. You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands as you inhale a shaky breath. “I received some news from Patricia Stimpson this morning,” you start as you gently start to peel yourself off of George. It didn’t feel right to talk about something like this while being complete entangled in each other. George gives you a concerned look, a little confused as to why you would be talking to Patricia Stimpson. “She saw something that you did that is honestly quite disturbing.”

Patricia came up to you this morning after you had finished breakfast in the Great Hall with George as you parted ways for the day, him to the library and you to you the courtyard. She had a look of urgency in her eyes as she tapped your shoulder and requested to speak somewhere privately. The two of you sat on a bench in the courtyard as she gave you a sad smile and revealed information that you never thought you would receive. 

Your heart had stopped beating at the mention of the combination of names strung together in that sentence. It felt like your worst nightmare had grown legs and had walked into your life. The news slapped you in the face as you just stared at her when she told you, looking into her eyes that looked at you so sad for you. “You mean to tell me,” you breathily laugh, not wanting to even think that this situation was a possibility, “that you saw George and...Angelina...”

She nodded her head, sadly with a look of guilt on her face. She hated that she had to be the barer of bad news, especially since you two weren’t that close. But she would hate to see another girl struggle to breathe as rumors flooded in when she knew she could have helped prevent the situation. Patricia gulped and spoke, “Snogging, yeah.” The thought makes bile rise in your throat as you swallow hard and close your eyes. “It happened a few days ago. They were in the library in the back. I was trying to return a book and I stumbled upon them. The two of them both froze and Angelina then yelled at me to leave and I did, I was shocked, I didn’t know what to do,” she tries to reason. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

You shook your head and placed a reassuring hand on Patricia’s. “Please don’t apologize. You didn’t nothing wrong, darling,” you give her a weak smile. “There was nothing you could after seeing that except tell me. Thank you for telling me,” you speak as you inhale a deep breath, trying to understand how something like this could have happened.

George went to the library often, but he was usually accompanied by Fred or Lee to talk about the joke shoppe or sorts. He would have meetings every four days. If he had slipped away to do something with Angelina, Fred or Lee would have known. But what really stung was the fact that it was Angelina. Your first friend at Hogwarts. She introduced you to George. She helped set you two up. And now she was the one tearing you apart. 

Patricia starts rambling, “I should have told you when I saw it, but I was scared that I had the wrong twin. That it was Fred and not George, but I could have sworn it was George. It had to have been.”

You speak, “Stop justifying things, Patricia. It’s okay. I’ll, um, I’ll have a chat with George about this I guess. Thank you, again, Patricia. I’ll...see you around.”

When you recounted the events to George, he just sat there and looked at you in disbelief. The way he looked at you with so much pain in his eyes made you feel guilty for accusing him of such a thing. You gulped down a dry swallow and told yourself you couldn’t cry, but that didn’t halt the tears from welling up in your eyes as you inhaled a shaky breath. George still just stared at you in shock. “Please, Georgie,” you beg, just barely above a whisper, knowing if you speak any louder, you’ll crumble. “Tell me it’s not true.”

Your bottom lip trembles and threatens to spill out a sob, but it’s stifled when George pulls you into his chest as you cry into his jumper, taking it in your hands in fistfuls. You let cries erupt throughout your body as George rubs your back soothingly, kissing the top of your head. “Don’t cry, angel,” he coos as you sob into his chest, praying to whoever was listening that this wasn’t happening. “Shhhh,” he hushes you, gently prying you off of his chest so he could look into your eyes.

Looking up at him teary eyed, George cradles your face in hands, thumbs wiping away your tears as you tremble like a child after a sick nightmare. He pressed a kiss to one cheekbone and then the other, where tears fell before he pressed his forehead up against yours. “Never in my life,” he speaks, “would I do that to the girl I love.” The fear evaporates from your body as your shoulders relax and you let out a shaky breath. “I know Patricia claims it was me, but it was absolutely Fred. He’s had his eye on Angelina for a few weeks now. Nice to know that my own twin brother doesn’t tell me when he snogged a girl,” he teases as you giggle lightly. “(Y/N)...” he speaks, his voice trailing off, almost as if it were a warning. “I love you.”

His declaration of love felt more like a statement when he said it. As if you should have known. It was firm and pressing. You shook your head as you smiled lightly, sniffling. It was dumb of you to question George’s loyalties in the first place. He loved you fiercely. “I love you, Georgie.”

And for the first time ever in this relationship, the words you exchanged felt out of place. Misused. But you knew the words still rang true for the both of you after three years of dating. If they didn’t, you wouldn’t have your lips pressed against his right now in a gentle kiss, trying to mend what had almost been broken.

--------------

A few days had passed since the rain and you found yourself happily walking down the hallway, hand in hand with George. He leaned down and whispered in your ear, making you laugh and slap his chest as he joined you in laughter. George squeezed your petite hand in his larger one before he spoke, “Freddie and I have got a team meeting in the library. We’ve got potential investors for the joke shoppe.”

Your eyes widen as you excitedly push his shoulder. “Investors? Geez, Georgie, why didn’t you tell me?!” you exclaim as he chuckles. “I’m so proud of you,” you beam, gently stroking his cheek before you place a gentle kiss to his lips. “Go on then, go do more exciting things,” you push him in the direction of the library.

George sends you a wink, “I’ll catch you after, alright?” He walks backwards down the hall. “In your room?” he asks as you smile and nod. “Brilliant.”

And with that, he’s gone as you shake your head and continue walking down the hallway. As you walk, you think about how that night between you and George had brought you closer. He wanted to be around you more, he gave you more compliments, he paid close attention to how you were feeling. It was like he was becoming a more attentive boyfriend. A new George, one that you could get used to. 

You lazily walked through the halls of Hogwarts, chatting with people you knew as you passed. Now, you found yourself giggling as you stumbled upon Ron, linking arms as dancing down the hallway. You erupted in a fit of giggles as Ron spun you around and he chuckled. The two of you engaged in light chatter before he offered you a snack from his satchel, a bright red apple. “What is it with your family and always eating? I don’t get it,” you tease him.

Ron shrugs, “Always be prepared?”

You roll your eyes as you continue to walk, talk, and eat as you turn the corner and you furrow your brows. There was Fred leaning up against the wall, chatting to Lee about something before Lee threw his head back in laughter. That was odd. Quite a short meeting Fred and George had. “Oi!” you call out. “Freddie!” You drag Ron down the hallway to meet his brother and Lee as Ron throws a lazy arm around your shoulder, towering over you.

Fred turns his eyes and when his eyes land on you a genuine, happy smile appears on his face. “Oi, is my younger git brother annoying you?” he teases as Ron sarcastically laughs before punching Fred in the arm as Fred laughs melodiously.

“Piss off, Fred. Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he sneers.

You turn to Fred again, “I thought you and Georgie had a meeting about the joke shoppe. I was just with him like twenty minutes ago and he said he had to run.” You were genuinely curious and also confused. You thought an investor meeting would take more time than just a mere twenty minutes if it was a serious offer. 

Fred shakes his head and tucks his hands into his pockets. “No,” he speaks, brows furrowed, confused as to why his brother would relay false information to you like this. “We have a meeting about the shoppe every other week. Our next meeting isn’t for another week.” Lee looks at you, puzzled, looking back and forth between you and Fred. There was something wrong. 

Your heart sinks and your mouth goes dry. Ron watches your face drop from an excited smile to the color of parchment. He places a cautious hand on your shoulder. Before he can ask you how you’re feeling, you speak up, “Freddie,” you gulp. “This is going to sound like a weird question, but I need you to be brutally honest with me.” Fred looks at Lee completely puzzled before looking at you. “About a week ago, did Patricia Stimpson walk in on you snogging Angelina in the library?”

Lee cackles, “He wishes! Angelina Johnson wouldn’t go near our poor Fred with a ten foot pole!” Lee claps Fred’s shoulder as Fred shoots him a glare, making Lee pipe down immediately. Now was not the time to joke around. And that really meant something when it came to Fred Weasley.

Your heart sinks further and your chest starts to rise and fall with anxiety. The big red apple that was once in your hand fell to the floor and rolled away. Something was gravely wrong. Ron peels his arm off of you, knowing that you need space as you anxiously look between Fred and Ron and Lee, trying to figure out where George could be then. If he wasn’t with Fred or Lee or you, then that meant he was alone. Or...

Fred looks at you and takes a step closer to you. “(Y/N),” he speaks, approaching you with caution like you were ticking time bomb. “Look at me,” he speaks, placing both of his hands on your arms as you look upwards at him, fear in your eyes. “Where did my brother tell you he was?”

Breathing heavily, you open your mouth and no sound comes out at first, just a squeak. Fred’s eyes soften, concerned for you and moment away from kicking his brother’s teeth in. His eyes coax you into trusting him with the information you have. Finally, you manage, “In the library, with you, talking about investments for the shoppe.”

Without another word, Fred takes your hand in his and speaks directly to Lee. “If George doesn’t come back to the room tonight, don’t go looking for him,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Ron, stay here. We don’t need more attention to the scene we’re about to cause. Or should I say, I’m about to cause.” 

Before anyone can object, Fred and you are now walking, more marching, down the halls of the castle to the library to hunt out George. Panic and fear are pumping through your veins as Fred radiates pure fury. Fred and you were always very close, even more so after you and George had started dating. In Fred’s eyes, you were like another sister to him. He felt the overwhelming need to protect in a way that was different how George protected you. Fred knew the inner workings of your mind like the back of your hand. You were the first person he came to when he had a problem and vise versa. Fred was your friend and a damn good one at that. He hated seeing you upset, especially if he knew it was the doing of his own twin. 

“Freddie,” you breathe out. “Patricia came to me days ago and told me that she saw them, but I didn’t believe it. He had told me that it was you and that you had a thing for Angelina for a while and I believed it because I have always trusted George. But now I-”

Halting dead in his tracks before you walk into the library, Fred grabs your shoulders and spins you to face him. “Listen to me, (Y/N),” he commands your attention. “I love my brother. He’s my other half. But something he can be that the guy who is down right dick. And if he did, or is doing, what we’re thinking, then he’s even worse than I had ever imagined. And that is on him.” Fred’s words bring you peace, but also a wave of nerves. Could George ever be unfaithful? Did the relationship have that many cracks that he allowed himself to slip through one? Fred’s brown eyes that looked so like George’s stared into yours as he gave you a smile. “You’re the best girl I know and George is a fucking idiot if he’s letting you go. Regardless of what happens in there, I am your best friend first and foremost. I’m here for you no matter what he does.”

You nod your head and sigh before pulling Fred into the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. With all your might, you hold him close as he sighs and hugs you back, knowing the outcome of this situation before it had even unfolded. Fred thought to himself how could his brother be so selfish, so childish, so moronic to do what he had done. There was no going back now. You can feel the hot tears stinging the back of your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. You were still clinging onto the last bit of hope before you entered the library. “Thank you, Freddie.” 

His arms gave you one last squeeze before taking your hand in his. “Are you ready?” he asks, eyes genuinely searching yours for your answer. Fred was ready to go in there without you to confront his asshole twin and your once best friend, yelling and screaming. Rage was pumping through his veins, but he tried his best to conceal it in front of you. Fred didn’t want you to see him like this. 

With a weak nod, you inhale a shaky breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you walk into the library and you feel your heart drop into your feet when you step in. You didn’t like the way the library felt in this moment. It was cold and hot at the same time and you felt stifled. But that didn’t stop you from chaotically walking to the back of the stacks to find your boyfriend. 

You peer down aisles trying to find that familiar tuff of red hair, but all you find are diligent students reading, some joking around with each other, others peering through the stacks to find books. “Where the bloody hell...” you whisper to yourself, growing frustrated that you couldn’t find George. Your nervous energy was now being channeled into anger as you balled your first beside you.

Before you can flip around and ask Fred where he thought his brother could be, you hear a familiar low voice and girlish giggle from behind you. You look at Fred, your eyes wide and stomach churning. Fred opens his mouth to say something, but you are already walking to the back of the library to find exactly what you expected.

The red haired boy your heart belonged to was now pressed flushed against your once best friend, lips connected to each others as her fingers played with the hair that stuck up on the back of his neck. George’s hands were placed on her hips before running down her sides to squeeze her bottom cheekily as she giggled. You inhaled a sharp gasp at the sight, wanting to vomit at the sight of George and Angelina pressed up against each other like this. Your mouth hangs open as the detach themselves from their embrace, faces falling from smiles to sheer horror. 

“Fucking hell,” you breathe out, the tears that threatened to fall outside now flowing down your cheeks freely. You feel Fred’s presence behind you as George and Angelina’s eyes dart between you and Fred. Angelina stutters for a moment as George’s hands fly off of her body and into his pockets. “So is Angelina your potential investor?” you ask, bottom lip trembling in horror as Fred steps right behind you, placing his hand on yours giving it a squeeze, letting you know that he is right there with you. 

George steps away from Angelina and Angelina fumbles with her words, “(Y/N)-”

You scoff, “Oh, shut up, Angelina. You have no excuse. You were supposed to be my best mate, but instead you decided that you’d rather fool around with my boyfriend behind my back, eh? Some fucking friend you are.” 

Angelina’s face contorts with sadness and guilt as she looks down at her feet, playing with her fingers. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she tries to defend herself. 

With pure fury rushing through your veins, you laugh. “Well, I’d bloody hope you didn’t plan on it!” you exclaim. “I always knew you to be competitive, but not like this. This is low. Even for you,” you shake your head before looking at George who has guilt slapped all over his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but you stick up your hand. “Don’t even say anything to me. Don’t you dare even look at me. You’re a liar and a cheat and loathsome. I hope you’re happy. Angelina, he’s all yours.”

You turn away and let a hand fly up to your mouth to conceal your sob as you run out of the library with Fred draping a protective arm around your shoulder. “Come on, now,” he whispers to you as some people notice your state. “It’s over. They’re both done and that’s it. You can cry, darling, it’s alright.”

Fred whisks you out of the library quickly and the moment you step down the secluded hallway, you collapse into Fred’s arm as he holds you, brushing your hair calmingly. The sobs rake through your body, causing it to tremble hopelessly in his arms as he holds you tight. Seeing you like this filled Fred with rage as he kissed the top of your head as he allowed you to cry into his chest, holding onto him for dear life. You sob and mumble things into his jumper as he nods his head. “I’m here, it’s alright.”

That’s when you hear his voice. “(Y/N), please let me talk,” George pleads, pain evident in his voice, but immeasurable to how you felt in this moment. You don’t dare look at him, burying your face deeper into Fred’s chest as his grip grows iron on you.

“Back off, mate, haven’t you hurt her enough?” Fred defends you as he rubs your back. “What has gotten into, George?”

George’s jaw clenches and his fists bundle up beside him. “Piss off and let me talk to my girlfriend, Fred,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Please, (Y/N),” his voice changes when he addresses you, more gentle and coaxing as you sob harder into Fred’s chest. “I need to tell you my side of the story.” Fred laughs as you peel yourself from him, wiping your eyes, hot with tears. “There’s no explanation needed, dear brother,” Fred sneers at George who with a sarcastic smile presses his tongue to his cheek in sheer annoyance. “She caught you in the act. What are you going to explain? How your tongue accidentally found its way into Angelina’s mouth?”

George takes a step forward, challenging his brother. “Shut the fuck up, would you?” he bellows, anger in his eyes as Fred doesn’t back down, unafraid of George. You watch as the scene unfolds in front of you, still sniffling. “All of a sudden you’re interested in my girlfriend? You trying to scoop her up while she’s vulnerable?” he pushes Fred’s chest.

“Scoop her up?” he pushes back. “Are you mental? And if she hadn’t made it clear already, I’ll do it for you. Ex-girlfriend. She’s your ex-girlfriend,” Fred corrects his brother. “Not to mention, (Y/N) has always been my friend, even before you started dating. I’m not trying to scoop her up, George, we’re friends! I will always protect her! Especially when you fail to do so,” he spits at George. 

That’s what sends George over the edge. With a yell, he sends a gruesome punch to Fred’s jaw who nearly falls over from the blow. “Godric, George, stop!” you yell out at he goes for Fred again, but Fred sends a punch to his twin brother’s nose as George stumbles back, blood trickling down from his nose. 

People start to notice that the twins are now in a full on fight, grabbing and swinging at each other as they yell profanities at the each other. A crowd starts to trickle in, cheering on either side of the boys as you watch in horror.

“Fucking hell, get off of each other!” you scream as you grab Fred’s arm as he holds it up to send another punch to his brother’s nose. “Knock it off, you fucking dickheads!” you throw yourself in front of Fred as George and Fred catch their breaths, chests heaving. “Can we not make this a public affair?” you scream again, gesturing to the small crowd that has formed to witness the Weasley twins having it out at each other. “We can talk about this in private,” you say in a hushed angry tone to George. You turn to Fred and take a look at his face, no blood, but definitely lots of bruises and a split lip. “Episkey,” you wave your wand at his face, sealing his broken lip as well as managing to take away some of the swelling of his eyes. 

Fred hisses as his face stings as it heals. “You don’t need to talk to him, (Y/N). He doesn’t deserve to hear what you have to say,” he sneers at George who takes another challenging step at Fred.

You hold Fred back again and hold a warning finger to George. “Don’t you dare. You’ve already hurt enough people today,” you spit at him who immediately retaliates. You speak to Fred with a soft, calm smile. “I’ll be okay. I can handle him, Freddie,” you insist as Fred gives you sad smile.

Slowly looking away from Fred, your eyes land on George as your heart breaks at the sight of him. He wiped his bloody nose on his shirt sleeve as he glared at his brother, eyes eventually trailing to you as his glare fades into a guilty look. The brown eyes that you loved so much suddenly made you feel cold and alone as you inhaled a shaky breath. George tries to offer you his hand to walk somewhere more private to discuss things, but you just scoff and walk past him, letting him follow you. The audacity, you thought to yourself.

The two of you walk into an empty classroom as you close the door behind you and leaning against it, arms folded in front of you as you glare at George. You could feel yourself wanting to cry again, but you refused to let him see you cry again. He wasn’t worth your tears. Instead, you let rage course through your body instead of sadness. 

George gulps before speaking. “I never wanted this to happen...” he trails off.

“No, you never wanted to get caught,” you correct him as he lets out a disgruntled sigh. “I never thought you would ever do this to me, George. Nevertheless, do it to me with my best friend,” you shake your head. “I thought that if you didn’t love me anymore, you would at least have the decency to tell me,” you throw your hands up in defeat. George remains dead silent. “But somehow, you thought this was a better option.” He quickly replies, “It just happened, (Y/N)!” You furrow your eyebrows. “We were in the common room one night, studying for an exam and we started talking and then for some reason, one thing lead to another, and we kissed,” he admits as your heart breaks. So they had kissed before the time Patricia caught them in the library. This wasn’t a one time mistake he made. George had repeatedly kissed Angelina. Godric knows what else they did. “It was a huge mistake, (Y/N), and I’ll never forgive myself for it. You mean so much to me,” he tries to rationalize with you, begging at this point.

You just scoff and say, “A huge mistake that you did again and again and again. If I hadn’t caught you in the act, you would have kept seeing her, wouldn’t you?” George just shakes his head and gulps, taking a step forward. “Don’t lie to me, George...not again,” your voice cracks, but you refuse to cry. “Instead of telling me how you really felt, you kept telling me you loved me.”

George takes your hands in his and speaks, “I have always loved you, (Y/N). None of that was ever a lie.” Your eyes search his eyes, searching for a truth. Something to tell you why you should stay with him. But instead, you found nothing. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he whispers, tears filling his eyes as he truly feels sorry when he understands what he losing. “We’re just not who we used to be, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders, trying to shift the blame on both of you.

Pulling away from his hands, you spit back, “No, you’re not who you used to be.” You shake your head. “In fact, I don’t know who you’ve become. But you’re not the George I fell in love with,” you take a deep breath in as George’s heart breaks. What George did really ripped your heart out of your chest, but this is was ripped it into a thousand pieces. Leaving him. “Goodbye, Georgie.”

George shakes his head, “(Y/N), please don’t.”

But you were already gone.

-------------------

Being without George for the first weeks of the breakup were difficult. You missed his touch, his voice, his eyes, his laugh, his smile; you missed it all. Even though what he did rung your heart out, there was a part of you that missed him more than words could say. 

People took notice immediately about how you didn’t sit next to George during meals in the Great Hall or converse to Angelina in between classes. This all earned you sorry glances in your direction as people found out what happened. It was embarrassing, having everyone know exactly what went down between you and George and Angelina.

You tried to distract yourself with other friends and schoolwork and other hobbies to keep yourself from thinking about George. But somehow, you always thought of him and how he so harshly betrayed you. No matter what you were doing, something had made you think of him. It came down to the point that you had to distance yourself from Fred, your closest friend after Angelina, because just the look of him made you think of George. That fact that your best friend had to be the identical twin of your cheating ex-boyfriend was enough to drive you mad. 

But after a few weeks of healing and distancing yourself from everything that reminded you of George, you finally decided you couldn’t let him prevent you from seeing Fred. Fred was not only George’s brother, but your friend and you were’t going to let that stop you. When you had seen him for the first time since you and George broke up, tears welled in your eyes, you missed him so much. Fred gave you the tightest hug and profusely apologized for his brother’s behavior. Fred was insistent on helping you in every way possible to move on from George; he wanted you to know that no matter what he would be there for you, no matter if it was his twin who had done the damage or not.

Fred along with the help of your other friends helped you get over George and move on. They helped you regain your confidence and have fun and you couldn’t be more grateful. Soon enough, George was the last thing on your mind. His presence in a room no longer made you sad, the mention of his name didn’t make your heart stop, and the sight of him didn’t make you miss him. You were over George Weasley; something you never thought you would be able to say.

Even though you were over George, you didn’t think that you would date someone else after four months after your break up. But funnily enough, you were. The relationship that had blossomed between you and Roger Davies started as something very innocent. You had always been friendly with Roger, but not very close. So when you had initially started studying in the library, you didn’t think it would lead to hanging out in the courtyard, to your first date to Hogsmeade, until your first kiss on the moving staircase. 

Roger was so refreshing. He was gentle and kind and shy, but he was affectionate and loved showing you how much he truly cared for you. He would be in the hallways with his friends and spot you across the way before running over to place a quick kiss on your cheek before running back to his friends. Or he would see you studying in the library alone and then immediately find the chair next to you to keep you company. It was the little things he did that made you feel so loved.

When word got to George that you and Roger started dating, he was didn’t take the news well. Unlike you, after the breakup, George wallowed in his guilt and couldn’t stop thinking about how foolish and careless he was. He cursed himself for letting he and Angelina share that kiss on that late night in the common room. He hated the fact that he let himself come back for more when he had someone like you in his fingertips. Someone who loved him fiercely and would do anything to prove their love. When Fred told him the news about you and Roger, George sat there with sad eyes and dryly gulped. “Why him?” he spoke. He was sad, angry, disappointed, jealous at the fact that Roger had just scooped you up. 

“She found someone who she cares for and who does the same,” Fred tells his twin. “You should be happy she found someone like that after how the relationship ended with you two,” he tells him as George just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I know you miss her, George, but it’s over. You messed up.”

George just looked at his brother with the most pained look on his face. George knowing that he hurt you in a way unimaginable sat with him like a rock in his stomach. “It was the worst thing I ever did, Fred. I fucked up big time and I can’t fix it. I really can’t fix it this time,” he spoke, pools welling up in his eyes as Fred gave his brother a sympathetic gaze. “I really messed up, Fred.”

---------------

Winter break rolled around and it would be your first holiday with Roger, but the first holiday without the Weasleys. The thought made your stomach churn. The Weasley family took you in as their own the moment they saw you. Molly and Arthur felt like a second set of parents and you were so grateful that you always had a home with them. You sadly smiled at the memories of the Burrow and the holiday season. You had spent the past four Christmases with the Weasleys and each year just got better and better. You had thought your seventh year would be the best yet, but you had to cast that thought away before you grew sadder.

Shaking away the thoughts of the Burrow, you smiled at the thought of spending the holiday with Roger and his family. You were more than nervous to meet his parents and his older brother, but Roger made it abundantly clear that his family was thrilled to meet you. “I’ve talked to my mom about you before and she is so excited to meet you. She says you sound lovely,” Roger kissed your forehead as you danced nervously around your dormitory room. 

You gave him a nervous smile. “I just really want them to like me,” you shake your hands nervously as he takes your hands in his, laugh gently at your nerves. “I’m serious, Roger. I love you and I want your parents to know how much I care for you,” you stand in between his legs as he sits on your bed.

Roger smiles and kisses your nose gently. “They’ll love you because they know how much I love you and how much you mean to me. Let’s be honest, though, what’s not to love about you?” he pokes at your sides as you giggle.

And he wasn’t wrong. Roger’s family was so warm and welcoming to you. Practically the moment his mother spoke to you, you saw how kind and lovely she was and how the whole family took you in instantly. You couldn’t be more grateful to have a boyfriend who had a family that was kind and welcoming like the Weasleys. 

On the first night at Roger’s home, you laid in bed next to Roger as you played with the hem of his jumper. “My family bloody loves you,” he whispered to you with the largest smile on his face. You smiled wide and pecked his cheek. “I’m serious. You even impressed Chester and that’s not an easy feat,” he refers to his older brother. 

You beam, “Your family is wonderful. Truly. I love them already and it’s just the first night.”

“It’s only going to get better from here,” Roger wiggles his brows as you giggle before he presses his lips to yours.

When the Weasley students arrived home from Hogwarts, they were all tightly embraced by Molly Weasley who peppered each of her kids’ faces with kisses, making them all lovingly groan. “Ah! Harry, there you are,” Molly beamed as she kisses the top of Harry’s head. “Good to have you back home again, my dear,” she spoke before doing the same to Hermione’s head and giving her a tight squeeze. Molly looked around the living room, searching for something or rather someone. “Where’s (Y/N)? Georgie, did you leave her at Hogwarts as a mean prank?” she teased before noticing her son’s hollow face and everyone tense up as Molly spoke of your name like it was You Know Who. “What happened, Georgie?” she looks at her son with a stern look in her face. She knew something was very wrong and she had a bad feeling about it.

George gulps before saying, “(Y/N) and I broke up, Mum.”

Molly’s face drops with sadness before looking at Arthur whose face resembles Molly’s. “Really? Oh my dear, I’m so sorry, Georgie. (Y/N) and you seemed so happy. How did it happen?” she implores as George stiffens and Fred sighs and rubs his face.

This is the part that George Weasley was dreading; the reason why you split up. Everyone else in the room was scared for him too, Merlin’s sake. With a deep breath, George said, “Um,” and swallowed hard. “I wasn’t a good boyfriend, Mum. I betrayed her trust.”

And that’s when Molly’s face dropped into a serious expression. Molly always taught her children how to care for others and always be loyal to the ones who treat you with love. George’s behavior spoke a different story. “George Fabien Weasley,” she shook her head. “I thought you knew better,” her heart broke for you and it hurt her to know that one of her own boys did that to you. “Your father and I taught you better than that,” she told him with a disapproving look on her face.

It was all she needed to say in order to make George feel more disappointed in himself than ever. He sadly looked to Fred who gave him a sad smile. Losing you was the worst thing he’s ever done. He not only lost you, but he made his parents feel disappointed in him. You meant so much George and he threw that all away for a silly fling that he could never take back. George nervously bit down on his lip before huffing his way up the stairs, needing to be alone with his thoughts for a while. 

The Weasley siblings dispersed throughout the Burrow as they all felt the strange shift in the energy of the house. The house was feeling the weight of your absence. When everyone was in the Burrow, the home was full of life. But with you gone, it was like one piece of the puzzle was missing and wouldn’t be found. 

As George opened the door to he and Fred’s room, the memories of previous holidays flood George’s mind. The two of you laying on his bed, him on his back, you on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair. He would steal kisses from you every now and then and poke at your sides, making you giggle wildly. George would hold you close in his arms and whisper how happy he was that you were with him. You would pepper his face in kisses, telling him how much you adored him in between pecks.

The memory made him smile as he entered the room, the more he walked in, the more memories resurfaces. He thought of the time you two watched the sunset out of his window, or the time you two laid on your back on his floor and reread a muggle book of yours, or the time he told you he loved you for the first time in the middle of the room on Christmas Eve all those years ago. 

“You alright, mate?” Fred’s voice interrupts George’s thoughts. Fred gives is brother a sad look. “I know it must be hard this time of year, George,” he puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But you’ll be alright. And so will she.” George shakes his head sadly. “Listen, George, even though what you did was still very wrong, you’re my brother and I love you. I’m here for you.”

George gives his brother a sad smile and shakes his head as if to say thank you. He looks Fred in the eyes and just shakes his head, “I want the best for her, Freddie. I want to be the best for her.” George has tears in his eyes and chokes lightly on his words.

Fred’s heart hurts for his brother. George rarely cried in front of Fred, he usually liked to be alone if he was going to cry. He didn’t like Fred seeing him upset. But this was too much for George to hide. Fred holds his brother’s arms and speaks, “I know, George. I know. But right now, what’s best for her is space. You both need to be away from each other. That’s what’s best for both of you.”

That made George realize that his brother was very right. As much as he hated to believe that you two couldn’t be together, George knew it was true. And he would have to be okay with that.  

#Fred and George #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x #george wealsey imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x fem #george weasley x femreader #george weasley smut #george weasley angst #george weasley x angst #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine

[coeurdastronaute]

The Cover Story, Ch. 1

Greetings! This is a preview of my first chapter that I’m posting exclusively on my patreon. If you like it, I hope you follow along as I work on it there. I appreciate your time and thoughts and would love to hear what you think. 

Without further ado, or perhaps much ado about thing...

Lucy Madani was not going to cry. 

That was a lie. She might cry. She wanted to cry. She was known to cry very easily, but not without reason, and there certainly were more than enough reasons already for her to tear up as she stood on the corner and felt a wave of water from a bus going through a puddle splash her legs and skirt. It was only just after eight in the morning, and she was ready to crawl back into bed, admit defeat graciously, and sleep straight through to tomorrow. 

“I can’t talk right now, Baba,” Lucy muttered into her phone as she resumed her quick walk down the street. 

“You are mad, and we need to talk.” 

“Let me rephrase it. I don’t want to and I also can’t. I’m going to be late for my meeting.”

“Your big interview pitch. I wanted to wish you good luck, but you stormed off.” 

“Yes, that is what one tends to do when their father informs them that he is getting engaged,” she fumed, her anger coming over her once again at the thought as she darted across the street, waving her hand at the honking car. 

She was an adult, she tried to remind herself. A full, grown adult. An adult-adult who barely had a stable job, had heaps of student loans, and still lived with her widowed father. She didn’t throw tantrums and she wasn’t going to cry about any of it. Today was too important for that, and she was going to nail the pitch and finally move on from puff pieces for teen magazines. She was going to make the jump to serious journalist. She was going to be requested, by name. 

Today she was not going to cry. 

At least not on purpose. 

“Will you be home for dinner?” 

Luckily, he knew enough to sound sorry, though it wasn’t enough of a victory for her, only fueling the prickling behind her eyes. 

“No, I’m going over Laila’s. I’ll just stay there. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your time with her.” 

“Lucy joon, please talk to me. I know you’re mad-- you have your mother’s temper, but I think we should talk about this.” 

“I’m going into my meeting. We’ll talk sometime this week,” she offered, shaking her head. “Just… I have to go.” 

She didn’t wait for much of a reply because she knew he was playing low, dragging her mother into it. It only made it worse. Shoes sloshing against the tile of the lobby, she made her way to the elevator and decided firmly, once again, that she was not going to cry. 

Her phone chimed with a handful of well wishes and good luck’s from the group chat and she thanked them quickly before trying to find the meeting information from her calendar, head down and lost in her own world as she stepped into the elevator and right into a stranger. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy hurried, looking forward and then following the chest and then long pale neck up a few more inches to an amused smirk and eyes hidden by wayfarer sunglasses. 

“Not a problem. I was in the way.” 

The stranger ran her hand through a mop of curly copper hair atop her head, faded on the sides and shaggy on top, decidedly better put together than any tiktok boy’s. Her small smile pulled at bow-shaped lips and left dimples on both cheeks, and there were too many freckles to even begin counting. Lucy gulped before moving to the side and slinking to the back corner. 

Of course she would get into an elevator with the hottest woman she’d ever seen. Of course she would nearly plow her over in her hurry. Of course she would be sweet and smile like that and have an adorably shaped chin and face. Of course Lucy would do all of that while looking like something the cat dragged in after a bad night. 

But luck wasn’t with her today, and she was unable to hide too long, as no one else got on behind her and she heaved the heaviest sigh before looking down at her ruined stockings, spattered with mud and whatever else was festering in that puddle. Her skirt was soaked still and dripping and she was beginning to really feel it sinking into her skin. Phone clutched tightly in her hand, she felt the weight of it all and didn’t know what to do with it. 

From under her brow she looked up to study the back of the stranger, their long legs and black jeans, their primly tucked in black t-shirt that stretched slightly across her shoulders, and the softest looking hair in the most beautiful shade of red she’d ever seen. 

The elevator ascended approximately three floors before she started crying. Alligator tears slipped down her cheeks before she could do anything to stop them. And then the stranger cleared their throat and quietly turned around to verify what was happening, was actually happening, only making it worse. 

But she didn’t say anything, just turned back around, and with the smallest movement stretched an arm forward to hold the elevator between floors, and quickly, Lucy turned herself around and faced the wall. She took a few steadying breaths and wiped her cheeks, mentally preparing to leave everything else behind and focus on the moment-- when she would be selling herself to one of the largest companies of all time to be the writer of the profile of their Director of Creative Design before they went public. She’d prepared. She was ready. Nothing else mattered and she was a goddamn adult. 

The stranger, the kind, hot stranger pushed her sunglasses up into the messy curly hair and offered a smaller smile than before, the communal ‘it’ll be okay’ without saying anything. Lucy didn’t register much of it, just stared at the grey-green of her eyes, forgetting all else, and especially that she was a goddamn adult who desperately needed a payday to move out of her father’s place and away from whoever was moving into her mother’s side of the bed. 

“I’m not usually,” she began, but bit her tongue because she didn’t want to lie. She was usually like this, just occasionally less muddy. “Thank you.” 

“We can stay a few more minutes if you’d like. I don’t really want to go to work today.” 

For the first time all day, Lucy smiled genuinely and felt lighter. It was that quick and that easy. 

“It’s okay. I’m ready.” 

A curt nod led to a stretch again and the elevator started once more. Lucy leaned across and pressed the button for her floor, catching a whiff of a distinctly woodsy smell, like sandalwood perhaps? There was a hit of lavender? Maybe cedar? It was wonderful. She wanted to breathe in more of it, but retreated before she was the girl who cried and sniffed people in the elevator. 

The silence was oddly comfortable for a few more seconds until it dinged and she took the step out. The stranger politely held the door and offered one final smile, complete with just one dimple this time. 

“Good luck,” she winked before pulling back, hands clasped loosely in front of her before the doors closed forever. 

It couldn’t get better than that, Lucy decided, staring at the elevator doors and steadying herself once again. But she was hoping it couldn’t get worse either. 

XXXXXXXXXXX

Quinn Sullivan wanted to die. 

Not really die, but she might have taken a good coma. Just for like a week maybe. Or six months. Something long enough to beat out this hangover she was sporting, courtesy of her very thoughtful best friend, and if she was lucky, long enough to survive the offering and release of the new game. Maybe a year-long coma? Was that too much to ask for, honestly? Maybe the universe could toss her a bone, just this once, especially after the previous year of her life. 

But in lieu of a swift and merciful death and/or coma, she was just going to have to survive the giant hangover that was currently attacking her body. All she needed was a quiet day and an extra large piece of leftover pizza she was certain was waiting in the staff fridge somewhere. Maybe some birthday cake--

And then a five-five wrecking ball of a human barreled into her chest. 

The rest of her ride up, Quinn thought about the weird trip it’d been, and if she should have done something different. And then she beat herself up for winking. Who winked? Why did she wink? She’d never done it before. But she earned a smile from a cute girl, and there was a tiny flutter at the base of her rib cage, one she hadn’t noticed in a long, long time. She pressed her fingertips there for the rest of the ride to her floor. 

With a groan, she put her sunglasses back on as the elevator dinged to her floor and took a deep breath to prepare for her day, not allowing her brain to trace out an entire life with the cute, crying stranger where they bought peaches at the farmer’s market on Saturday’s and danced in the kitchen. Romance was dead and dreaming was forbidden. 

“Aspirin is already on your desk,” Jenny greeted her cheerfully. “With an egg sandwich and some fruit.”

“No leftover pizza?” Quinn didn’t pout, but she might have for that.

“Trust me, this will fix you up much better. I went to a state school, remember, MIT?” 

“We partied…” Quinn trailed off as she pushed open the door to her office. 

She hadn’t partied, but she was certain people had to have partied. It was college, and though it was many moons ago, she certainly couldn’t remember hangovers feeling like this. Maybe this is what almost thirty felt like. That thought didn’t help with the headache.

“All-night coding sessions don’t count. Eat the food. I’ll hold the wolves at bay as long as I can, but Chris and the Exlust team are adamant you have the meeting today to resolve story issues.” 

Quinn tossed back the aspirin before she even sat down. Maybe Jenny was her universal compensation. The shades were already drawn so her normally bright office was much more tolerable. Even the eggs didn’t make her stomach swirl, and she was grateful her assistant learned something useful while studying biomedical engineering.. 

“I just need like an hour to work something out. I had an idea last night--”

“Before or after the sangria?” 

“During. Definitely during, but still. I just need to work through it and then they can tear me to shreds. Can you add to my calendar a warning to never drink again?” 

Quinn was fairly certain she’d texted her assistant that at some point in the morning. Probably before the shower, but after the first cup of coffee. 

“Gladly,” Jenny smiled softly. “You doing okay? It’s been a while since you tied one on like this.” 

“I’m fine. Just celebrating with Darcy. No more sad drinking, I believe was the rule you came up with and I follow all of your rules.” 

With a roll of the eyes, files were placed on her desk and her assistant retreated to the ringing phones, which when the door was held open, were actual torture devices to Quinn’s brain. 

“Sadie wants your afternoon free. I think it’s another reporter.” 

“She’s relentless.” 

“Maybe you’re impossible?” 

“It’s genetic then,” Quinn sighed, munching on a grape and tugging open a notebook. “One hour, please?” 

“I got you, boss.” 

“Thanks.” 

Never quite sure how Jenny did it, Quinn chose not to ask any questions. But when she asked for an hour, she got it. And despite the headache and laziness in her muscles, the food and aspirin did help so that by the end of her allotted time, she felt like she had captured the breakthrough that appeared to her the night before. 

Before she could admire her work though, her team filed in and she was prepared to start her day, finally, even with the nagging idea of a reporter nipping at her thoughts through it all. 

Somewhere between her breakfast and lunch, Quinn felt better. She fired off a few texts to see how Darcy was handling it and received only pictures of a half obscured but obviously still in bed face and chuckled to herself. It was a slower day, and she wasn’t about to waste it with a hangover. She should give Jenny a raise, she decided, because the woman could cure hangovers. Maybe submit her for the Nobel for Science. 

“Sadie is here,” her assistant buzzed and Quinn lost all forms of motivation. 

Her head hit her desk dramatically as the door opened and her sister walked in. Slightly shorter, but older by two years, Sadie was nearly everything Quinn could never manage to be despite her best intentions. She had the MBA from Harvard and the doting husband that came with it, a cute brownstone near White Hill and the park, and her first baby on the way. But even past her resume, Sadie Sullivan-Hawkins was personable and charismatic. She was adored and shrewd, capable of disarming anyone and eviscerating the others. It all came so easy to her, to have people around, to talk and be listened to, to be loved. She was a shark in business, and at the same time warm and put people at ease. 

Quinn could barely tie her shoes and Sadie was running a marathon in life. 

“Want to talk about it?” Sadie smiled as she took the seat across from Quinn’s desk. 

“About what?” 

“Why you’re getting drunk with Darcy on a Tuesday?” 

“She got the job at Taylor and Vine. We were celebrating.” 

“So not about Chloe’s announcement in the Times?” 

Quinn played dumb, typing gibberish into her phone because she didn’t want to look at her sister’s kind and caring face. If she looked, then she’d have more feelings, and for the life of her, she just wanted the incessant tinnitus of the break up to disappear completely. 

“Nope, I caught that this morning though, so I was in the right physical and mental place to really wallow. I don’t care about her.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard.”

“I have these notes to get done for the Shadow Operation team before our meeting with design. I’m fine. My ex can marry whoever she wants-- God knows she didn’t want to marry me. Good luck to the next sap.”

This made her sister chuckle, and Quinn smiled quietly to herself. There was still a bitterness there that she couldn’t get rid of. It was masking potentially the worst hurt imaginable. She preferred the bite of the bitter though. Easier to navigate. 

“I have someone I want you to meet with.” 

“Oh, fuck off Sadie,” Quinn moaned, knowing full well what was about to happen. “I’m not talking to anyone. You’re the face of this outfit. That’s what you told me.” 

“You’ve run off three other reporters. Our public offering is going to underperform if there is no faith in the heart of our company,” she explained, sitting up a little straighter. “And that’s you. I might crunch the numbers and keep the lights on, but you are what people are buying.”

“Then you tell them about me. I don’t even have to be there.”

“If only that were true, my job would be a lot easier.” 

At a stalemate, the sisters stared at each other for a few moments before Sadie broke, making a face as she smiled towards her lap, running her hand over the smallest bump barely showing. Quinn shook her head and looked away. Anywhere else was better than the damn disapproving look leveled at her now. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Quinn finally muttered. “I don’t want to-- I can’t--”

“Chloe was an idiot. She broke your heart. Now, you barely exist, but I know that you’re still you. And we need this.” 

“I can’t. I really can’t. I wish you’d get it.” 

It hurt too much all over again. In a weird way, Quinn missed the feeling of the hangover because at least that was a useful ache. The dull throbbing in her chest and bones just felt hollow and haunting. 

“We have a meeting with her. I’ve already walked her through the contracts and final edits, as well as shown her around. Please just rip the bandaid off and get it over with. She’s good. I’ve read a few of her pieces and Donna recommended her to me.” 

Sadie had their mother’s eyes. It drove Quinn crazy, that she looked like she didn’t belong in her own family. It also meant it felt like her mom was staring at her and reminding her to do her chores. She rubbed the back of her neck, letting her head lull to the side. 

“I’ll… I’ll try.” 

“Yes! I knew it. Thank you. Seriously, Q. It’s going to be great. This is going to--”

“I said I’ll try. I didn’t say I’d do it.” 

“It’ll be great,” Sadie ignored the warning, hopping up from her chair and moving to the door to beckon the reporter in. “Come in and meet the genius of the whole outfit.” 

Quinn rubbed her face with her hands, digging her fingers into the corners of her eyes under her glasses before steadying herself. She could do it for her sister, she reminded herself, and that stupid niece or nephew she was incubating. 

Maybe it would be as simple as ripping off a band-aid. Maybe she could just let a stranger rifle through her entire life and being, except that she wasn’t sure there was anything there anymore. Everything felt like she was going through the motions, and it was terrifying to Quinn to let someone see that she was barely stitched together. How could she explain that there was nothing behind door number one? Let alone number two or number three. 

“Quinn, this is Lucy Madani. She’s a freelancer hired by New York Magazine. She did a great piece on the Attorney General last month and her article on the director who went on to win Cannes went viral.” 

There was still mud on her skirt, but her stockings had been disbanded, gone forever, but it was unmistakable the stranger from the elevator standing in her office. That felt like an entire lifetime ago, and yet Quinn tried to swallow. 

“You have longer hair, in the pictures I found of you online,” Lucy offered, overcoming her surprise much quicker. She stuck out her hand over Quinn’s desk and waited for her to shake it. 

She was a reporter. A reporter who cried in the elevator. A reporter Quinn had, if she were being honest, checked out. But foremost, she was a reporter. She wanted to dive into the deepest parts of Quinn’s brain for profit, mutual benefit and all. It sounded dreadful. 

The universe did not owe her anything, Quinn remembered, but the perpetual mocking was getting a little over the top. 

“Quinn Sullivan,” she shook the hand presented and tried to breathe. Lucy’s hand was warm and felt soft. She wasn’t sure how to let go. “How’s it going?” 

Fuck! Her mind blared as she dropped the reporter’s hand and mentally beat herself to a pulp. Who talked like that? And still, she could not answer, winked?

“It’s been a day,” she smiled, nodding to herself as she accepted the seat Quinn offered. “Your sister has sung your praises all morning though. I feel like I could write about your without even meeting you.”

“Great. Let’s do that.” 

Sadie laughed but gave Quinn a stern look. 

“I’m going to go grab you some passes and copies of the contracts,” Sadie smiled graciously at Lucy before turning to her sister. “Listen to her pitch.” 

“Seems it’s been decided,” she muttered to herself before plastering on a smile. 

“Don’t have too much fun. I’ll be right back.” 

And with that she truly was gone, and Quinn was left in her office with the reporter who had pretty eyes. They felt like syrup-- warm and deep brown, gooey and sticky. Her face was longer, her nose thin and long, her lips full and bitten-- and Quinn snapped herself out of her perusal and felt her chest warm too much. No, the universe didn’t owe her anything, and the punishment for thinking it did was sitting across from her in a muddy skirt and gentle smile.

For just a moment, Quinn held her breath and willed a coma..

[eveofwriting]

I liked your Maki headcanons and saw you did Yandere headcanons, can you do Yandere Komaru and Mukuro kidnapping their darlings? Thanks in addvance.

[K-Komaru Naegi?.. More like C-Cumaru Naegi. Also major Danganronpa 1, 2, IF, and UDG spoilers]

Yandere Komaru Naegi kidnapping her s/o

★ The only way I can see Komaru kidnapping her S/O is if they get a girlfriend or boyfriend.

★ I mean, she would have definitely asked them out before that, so why would they accept a confession from some random guy or girl over the literal hero of Towa City?

★ First of all, after she’s kidnapped you, she will definitely kill the partner you’re with. No questions asked.

★ Besides, she might as well be holding a fucking blood covered knife next to the dead body. Nobody is gonna believe a cute teenage girl, nonetheless the saviour of the whole city, committed a murder.

★ If you escape, you best have the most obvious evidence pointing to Komaru, because if not people will just think you’re a supporter of the WOH and just want to drag Komaru’s name through the mud.

★ Who else would frame her?

★ Also, saying if you escape is like saying if you suddenly are able to fly.

★ She’s been kidnapped before, that gives her an idea of what type of reinforcements you’d need.

★ Hell, unless you’re an ultimate, she won’t tie you up until you prove you need to be.

★ You’d get constant affection, and if you try to fight back and refuse to submit, she might tie you up, but that’s only if you get physical.

★ The worst her punishment would be was locking you in a room with nothing, not a bed, not even a piece of paper to entertain yourself with.

★ She’d leave you there for two days, the third day she’d come back to see if you were willing to give up and submit.

★ If you weren’t, she’ll bring harsher punishment, you know, she almost gave up fully when she saw her parents hanging.. How about..

★ “Don’t be sad, Y/N! I don’t have parents either! Maybe if you submit, I’ll let the rest of your family live.”

Yandere Mukuro Ikusaba kidnapping her s/o

★ I’m gonna assume this is before the killing game, since she’s very dead right now.

★ Like I’ve watched her die, multiple times.

★ That bitch dead.

★ Okay in all seriousness we’ve seen sorta yandere Mukuro in Danganronpa: IF.

★ It’s been a while since I’ve read it but I’m pretty sure Mukuro considered killing Naegi so her name was the last one he ever said.

★ Yeah, Junko doesn’t give very good advice on love.

★ Or in general!

★ Mukuro would be an obsessive yandere down to the core.

★ I mean it really just fits, she may have a stone cold face on the outside, but the ultimate soldier has emotions after all.

★ Like Komaru, she would kidnap you.

★ But it wouldn’t be out of jealousy, more than likely out of delusions.

★ Poor, delusional Mukuro.

★ I mean, the most logical explanation to her kidnapping you, is so you were safe from her sister and the remnants of despair.

★ There was no reason you should get hurt because of her love for her sister.

★ Her sister just wants to cause her pain, but that was Junko’s way of loving people.

★ Causing despair and inflicting pain.

★ She just tried to play it off like it wasn’t also because she thought you needed her full protection and support, as well as she couldn’t bear the thought of you being with someone else.

★ Not gonna lie, she’s a bit creepy.

★ As far as punishments..

★ Well, that’d require her to give you a chance to disobey.

★ The most that would happen if you talked back was a light slap across the face and strict scolding, but she constantly keeps you tied up.

★ Honestly, if you submit to her fully, that would shorten the amount of time you have to spend in chains.

★ “I’m doing this for your own good, Y/N. You’ll understand sooner or later.”

#yandere danganronpa #yandere komaru naegi #yandere komaru #komaru naegi #dr udg #ultra despair girls #danganronpa another episode #danganronpa if #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #yandere mukuro ikusaba #yandere mukuro #dr mukuro #mukuro ikusaba #tw: kidnapping #tw: manipulation #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: murder #tw: violence

[spxllcxstxr]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice • R.L

(Gif not mine)

Request: maybe a blurb where the reader is dating Remus and one day, they randomly decide to miss classes and go on a date instead. maybe a walk, so it’s super simple but they talk about their life - their future and that makes it romantic. basically a fluff. lkshda I don’t know I just want him to hold my hand and kiss my forehead. Love your writing! — anon and hii, you asked for more remus requests and as a remus simp i just had to comply. i'd love to see more one shots that show both sides of remus: the softy, cuddly boy and the sassy, snarky comments king. so maybe have a moment where he's being cute with the reader and the immediate other they're sassing each other off and that's just how their relationship works :) — @moonysimpp

Summary: You skip a class and plan a wedding

Warnings: brief weed mention, skipping class, a little suggestiveness?, talks about marriage, no mention of Voldy/the war

Word Count: 1.4k

A.N: At first, I wasn’t going to combine these two requests...but I made Remus both snarky and soft so I thought why not? I hope that’s ok with the two of you, I feel like it just worked out well this way. As always, let me know what you think and love you all ❤️

Title: The Beach Boys - Wouldn’t it be Nice (I just got this vibe immediately after reading the request)

****

“Have I gone completely mental, or is the Remus John Lupin actually asking me to skive off History of Magic?”

Remus stands across from you, leaning his shoulder against a stone pillar, red and gold tie prim and proper, hands buried deep in the pockets of his slacks. His eyes lazily roll at your theatrical gasp.

“And in our N.E.W.T. year!” You continue, dramatically clutching your chest. “What a naughty boy you are, Lupin. Can’t believe Minnie ever made you a Prefect!”

He raises an eyebrow at you, the right one, with the white jagged scar cutting it in half like a bolt of lightning.

“Are you done yet, love?” He casually asks, amused by your antics.

“Am I done?” You repeat, shocked. “My bad influence of a boyfriend is trying to get me to play truant!”

He snorts at your claim knowing full well you and Sirius skipped Herbology yesterday to get high behind Hagrid’s hut. No one was a bad influence on you except yourself, and everybody knew it.

“C’mon, Lily’ll take notes for us.” Remus takes a hand out of his pocket and rubs the back of his neck. The very simple and casual action has your heart fluttering.

“Oh, yeah.” The red head beside you scoffs. “‘Lily’ll take notes for us.’” She mocks in a lower voice to imitate Remus’. “Y’know, as Head Girl, I should be taking points away from you, Remus.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you, Lily.” Remus chuckles, reluctantly dragging his body away from the wall and closer to the two of you. He brings his index finger to the bottom of his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Who was it again that let you off when you and James got caught in the Prefect’s bathroom—“

Your friend’s face gets drenched in deep red embarrassment. Her eyes grow as wide as dinner plates. “We agreed to never speak of that, Remus.” Lily’s voice is deadly serious as she interrupts his thought.

Everybody in the entire castle and their pets knew all about how Remus walked in on something happening between James and Lily in the Prefect’s bathroom in December, but nobody except the three of them knew the exact story. It was considered major drama in the castle and even after months, people are still whispering about it.

He smirks at her bright and flustered face before turning his triumphant gaze onto you.

“So, you joinin’ me, love?” Remus asks, his hand outstretched towards you.

You always had trouble saying no to Remus Lupin.

“Hm, spend time with my boyfriend or be put to sleep by Binns’ awful monotone lecture? What a hard choice.” You snark before immediately grabbing at his hand and interlacing your fingers.

“Thought so, love.” Remus cockily voices, still smirking.

Remus’ lips briefly connect to your hairline in a kiss before he starts pulling you outside.

You barely have enough time to call out a goodbye to your friend before you’re scampering to keep up with Remus and his extremely long legs.

The air is cool against your skin, when you first step out onto the grounds. It’s crisp and clear and it beats sticking around in the musty castle. Students with all different colored robes dart around you, trying to make it to their classes in time.

“So what do you have planned for us on this fine day, Rem?” You ask, sauntering down the green rolling hills, occasionally purposefully bumping into his shoulder.

“Ah, I don’t have anything planned exactly.” He admits, thumb stroking your hand as the two of you pass Hagrid’s hut. “Just wanted to be with you. And not go to class, of course.”

“Wanted to get me alone, hm?” You tease, swatting lightly at his shoulder.

You can practically hear his eyes roll around in his sockets, something he does frequently since he has to deal with both you and his four other best friends. You don’t think there’s been a day since first year when his eyes haven’t made their rounds.

“You’re positively obnoxious, y’know that?”

You’re stepping over the plants and underbrush making up the tree line of the Forbidden Forest, trying not to get your foot submerged in mud.

“Yeah, but you love me.” You tell him, trying to balance on a fallen tree branch.

“Eh...” Remus shrugs, watching you maneuver around a twisting vine.

You narrow your eyes and stick your tongue out at him as a response.

He takes you to the spot Kettleburn usually lets his Hippogriffs roam around between lessons, a large clearing with some boulders and tree stumps to sit on.

The Forbidden Forest is beautiful in the soft May sunlight.

The leaves are lush and green, alive with various creatures noisily chatting away with each other. You hear the faint trampling and pounding of hooves off in the distance. Sweet scents of spring flowers drift through the breeze, relaxing your tense muscles.

The Forbidden Forest is even more beautiful when you’re supposed to be listening to the ghostly form of Professor Binns drone on and on about the Gargoyle Strike of 1911 in a stuffy old classroom.

Your back leans up against the rough bark of the nearest tree. It digs into your back and probably dirties your robes but you find that you don’t mind at all.

Eyelids flutter shut and you inhale the cool air deeply to ease your mind. The rustle of leaves from the gentle breeze and the chirping of surrounding creatures fills you with a sense of comfort.

Slowly, you open your eyes to see Remus sitting on a large dark boulder, gazing at you intently.

“Do you think Dumbledore would let us get married here?” You ask dreamily, observing the pale yellow sunlight filtering through the leaves.

Even from this distance, you can tell Remus’ body goes rigid.

“M-married?” He sputters meekly. “Is this a proposal? Are you proposing to me right now?”

Remus jumps from his seat, robes billowing behind him as he anxiously strides towards your spot.

“Do you want it to be a proposal?” You cock your head to the side.

“No!” He shouts, eyes wide. “I mean—fuck!” Remus continues to sputter, ears glowing pink.

You laugh at his fluster. “Relax, Remus, I know what you meant.”

“Oh thank Godric.” Remus huffs out a laugh before pressing his own back to the tree next to yours. “Just give me a few years and I’ll buy you a ring, love.”

“Well now I’m just excited.” You giggle, admiring how he’s carefully turning his head to survey the clearing.

The pale jagged lines of his scars dully glimmer in the rays of sunshine that make their way through the treetops. It’s almost angelic.

“It would be nice to get married here, wouldn’t it?” You hear him murmur, more to himself, you suspect.

“Just how many wizards you reckon been married in the Forbidden Forest?” You chuckle. “Darling, I think we’re obligated to be the first.”

Remus shakes his head fondly at the notion. His head lulls back to face you, eyebrow raised.

“Oi, you don’t need to convince me. Dumbledore’s the one you ought to ask.”

“Ah, he’s a softy.” You wave away his thought. “We’ll be fine.”

Remus raises his arms like he was presenting the wild and untamed forest behind him. “I don’t know love, it is called the Forbidden Forest.”

You shrug. “Well maybe they’ll rename it.”

“Oh yeah? To what?” Remus snorts, running a hand through his sandy curls.

You smile, making a grand gesture with your arms. “The Forbidden Unless You’re Remus and (Y/n) Lupin Forest.”

“Y’know what?” Remus smirks, kicking off of the tree. “I like the name change.”

“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow as he ambled closer to your position.

“I particularly enjoy the (Y/n) Lupin part.” He places his hands on either side of your head, foreheads almost touching.

You hum in response, eyes gazing into his own honey brown ones. His eyes flick down to your lips before pressing his own to the top of your forehead.

Warmth spreads from where his lips connect with your skin, a smile instinctively growing across your face.

“Remus and (Y/n) Lupin.” He muses as he pulls away.

“Now that I think about it...” Your index finger taps against your lips in thought. “(Y/n) and Remus Lupin rolls off the tongue a bit better.”

“Whatever you say, love.” He happily sighs.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

Remus Lupin Taglist: @lunalovecroft

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #the marauders x reader

[spideyspeaches]

Valentine ↬ p.p

A/N: this is so self indulgent and also happy Valentine's to the EST/PST timezone!!

If you saw me reposting this because I posted only half of it, no you didn't 🤔😘

Wc: 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of gummy bears (the one with cannabis), smut (mentioned) Mopey Peter XD

Summary: Peter Parker wanted to spend his Valentine's with the most beautiful girl in his college. But him being him, he chickened out last minute from asking you out, completely ruining his mood. Thank god for his roommate though and his girlfriend though. (This fic makes no sense nsdjjsjfj)

Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Reader (18+)

Masterlist

Cutie potatooie

Peter looked at the window outside of his room, the pitter patter of rain reverberating in his eardrums as he sunk down the soft mattress with a sigh.

One could say his sullen mood was because of the dull weather outside in New York city, or it could be because he didn't have a date for Valentine's.

It wasn't often that one caught Peter Parker sulking because he didn't have a Valentine date, it was a rare sight.

There was this one time he had asked Gwen Stacy out during the senior year of high school, but she ended up moving out to Oxford before they could celebrate the fourteenth of February. Things didn't really work out with Liz because of her dad and MJ, well he ended up becoming her awakening factor about her sexuality. He respected that, absolutely, he was even honoured that he was the reason she had the guts to come out as bisexual.

So he didn't really keep his hopes up in the dating department, up until he met You in college. MIT had a huge campus, and Peter Parker was ready to kiss the fates just for making him bump into you, the most beautiful girl he had ever come to know.

Call him dramatic because there are of course, other girls who were just as beautiful and attractive as You, but in his eyes, You were the most beautiful human to have ever walked earth. It was the sway of your hips and flick of your wrists that had him, capturing his heart enough for his brain to malfunction in your presence.

It was a shame that he hadn't asked you to be his Valentine for today's party. In his defence though, You didn't really know him well other than as a classmate, or your roommate's boyfriend's roommate, and he was a naturally shy person. He barely had the guts to talk to you when you were sitting right besides him during class.

"Come on man, how long are you going to sit there moping? You know I would ditch today's plans for you right? Claire would understand." His roommate, Cade said.

Cade had always been his best friend next to Ned (no one beat Ned in this race, god he fucking missed him. He missed May and Tony and Pepper and Morgan and Rhodey and the list went on and on, he was sad for another reason now).

"Okay Candace." Peter muttered, not looking up from his bag of gummies. He had a feeling they were stoner patch ones, but he didn't care. It wasn't like they were going to affect his metabolism anyways.

What he did care about was that he wasn't on a date with you today and it was completely his fault. He had been a bumbling bambling baffoon when he had gone to ask you out in the least cheesy way he could think of, and had ended up stuttering something along the lines of "roommate" and "date", just as the bell rang, cutting him off like the little gremlin it was.

"You know that's not my name Pete." Cade muttered, stealing some of the gummies before scrunching his nose and spitting them out with a muttered curse.

"Do I look like I fucking care?" Peter grumbled, wiping the lenses of his glasses on his sports t-shirt, nearly chucking them across the room when it just smudged the stain, wiping it with his cotten bedsheets instead.

"Well you gotta get up anyway, Macy's is having a special offer for the singles tonight." He said, snatching the bag from Peter's hand, who's scowled at him before flopping on his bed with a groan. He was definitely starting to feel the effects, but he knew it was temporary, probably would last an hour before he was back to his mopey self.

"Why do you have to remind me that I'm single when you have a girlfriend yourself?" Peter groaned, dragging a hand across his face, a murderous expression on his innocent little face.

"Sorry man I'm just trying to cheer you up! You know what? Come with me, I'll take you to Claire's dorm and then you can have a sleepover with Y/N, you can even play doll dress up but for the love of god, get up from that bed. How long has it been since you washed those sheets? They stink!" The darker man said, his voice taking a higher octave, pulling him by his leg to drag him out of the sheets.

Being the little shit he was, Peter scrunched his fists in the sheets, nearly tearing the seems off.

"I'm not five that you're setting me up on a playdate with your girlfriend's hot roommate."

"Well you're acting like you're five right now, and I will call aunt May if you don't get out of here right fucking now!"

"Okay okay jeez Candace calm your man tits will ya." He rolled his eyes, sitting up with a wince as his head gave a pound, the aftereffects already setting in.

And that's how he found his way through the girls dorm, with his roommate by his side as Cade navigated through the empty hallways, eerily silent in contrast of the loud banger music playing in the club below.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Peter whispered, clutching onto his friend's hand as if his life depended on it, the smell of wet grass and mud distracting him from his thoughts. The girls dorm had a really pretty garden, and he admired it as much as he could from his window without feeling the judgmental stares of the girls thinking he's another one of those pervs.

"Your over thinking is going to give you premature ulcers." Was his only response, flicking the doorbell you had installed in your dorm.

He swore his breath stopped when he heard the tell tale click of the door hatch clicking open, your face peeking out of the door as you let them both in.

You would be lying if you said that your heart didn't speed up when you saw Peter Parker standing outside of your dorm.

You weren't the kind to get jealous easily, but you were envious, maybe even a little (only a little, a little pinch) jealous of your roommate for having a boyfriend. You didn't usually pay attention to your relationship status, but you were only a little salty about the fact that you would not be spending the day of love with the person you've been in love with since you entered the campus of MIT.

You had thought of asking him out several times, saying fuck to gender roles, only to back out last second because you were not sure you would last a second without melting just by looking at his brown puppy eyes.

You gave yourself and him a last chance, hoping either of you would make a move to at least ask each other out on the fourteenth of fucking February, only to be disappointed when that didn't happen.

So you were excited when your roommate told you that your long time crush Peter Parker and you were going to be in the dorm together (alone), heart beating erratically as you saw his face come in your view.

"Hi." You said shyly, pursing your lips to suppress a chuckle as you saw his cheeks heat up, rose red blush rising up in the cutest way possible.

"Hi." He responded, his breath stuttering in the empty dorm.

A few minutes went in silence, him shifting awkwardly in his place as you tried not to look at his body. You couldn't believe the nerd was hiding all of this underneath hoodies and sweatshirts.

Damn, he's hot. You thought, realising that you said that out loud when he stuttered you a look.

"I didn't mean to say that out loud." You said, opening your mouth to apologise again, before he cut you off with a kiss. You were startled by the sensation of his soft lips, surprise leaving you too petrified to move your lips.

You counted up to five before you heard his trademark Peter Parker stuttering apology.

"Oh- I'm I'm so sorry I you don't have to kiss me this is my fault oh god I'm so stupid-"

And it was you who kissed him this time, mystified by the way your lips fitted with his perfectly, like a lock in a key ready to open.

In the end, your impatience won out, his wandering hands on the bare skin of your waist enough to send fire up your veins.

Your hands were all over him in a matter of seconds, your legs straddling his thighs as he kissed you ferociously, messing up both your and his hair.

"Here's to a happy fucking Valentine." You muttered against his lips, smiling as he snorted a response, tickling your slides with his slender fingers.

"Happy fucking Valentine to you too sweetheart." He whispered back, picking you up with ease and throwing you to the nearest bed.

"I hope this isn't going to be a one time thing." You said, watching him undress as you yourself removed your top and your shorts, leaving you in your undies and his in his boxers.

You knew he was muscular, but damn there was a whole another story going on under those clothes. Your mouth practically watered at his chisled abs, his smirk making your patience wean out as you scrambled to being him closer to you.

"I wasn't hoping it would." He said, kissing you softly this time, punctuating each word with a soft kiss. You gave a breathy moan, digging your fingers into his back muscles, realising in the way they moved, the thin chain now exposed as it sat cool on your skin.

"Good, cause I really really like you, Peter Parker."

"I really really like you too, Y/n, L/n."

A/N: what have I written 😪🤚

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x stark reader #peter parker x avenger!reader #college!peter parker x stark!reader #spideygirl writes