#so that I have someplace other than my bed or the floor to read or game on my DS

[cabinofimagines]

Cryptozoology

IT is DANNY’S BIRTH and I wrote this fic for her gghghg. I promised it would be fluff, angst free and I did my best. Happy birthday sis!

Pairing: Leo Valdez x Gn!Reader

Request: According to my agenda, Danny's birthday is approaching and I think she deserves a high-quality Leo Valdez fic. So here's my idea: College!Leo likes reader & he has this running joke of calling them the "campus cryptid" bc he always sees them but for some reason no one knows who he's talking about until eventually finds them in the library or someplace and he takes a pic to send to his friends like "see? they're real!" But the dumbass had the flash on so it's an embarrassing moment obsvly you can edit it as you want I just wanna read an AU bc we don't have lots of those around here— love you guys!! -A big fan

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: none!

-Asnyox

The first time Leo Valdez met you was at two in the morning.

It was mid exam season, and you had decided that maybe you should take a walk to clear your mind a little. Nothing crazy- maybe just around the dorms, take a deep breath outside and go back to your room. The lights outside of the dorms were broken, so you just found the closest tree and stood against it, facing the door towards the dorms.

Suddenly a Latino boy walked out, looking like he had not slept for the entirety of exam season. As he stretched, he spotted you from the corner of his eye. However, you were not feeling like interacting with the Leo Valdez, who was known to be able to keep a conversation going and you sort of were ready to go back to bed. So, as he squinted into your direction, trying to identify you, you quickly took three steps back and hid behind the tree. You had never actually held a conversation with Leo, but that did not mean you didn’t think he was cute, and you did not want to meet him like this. Hence, you did the only logical thing that your sleep deprived mind could think of. As Leo slowly circled around the tree you were standing behind, you circled the other way and dashed for the door when it was in sight.

Leo was certain only moments ago there was someone underneath this tree – he could have sworn¸ but as he circled the tree, his earphones still blasting music, there was no one. Leo was disappointed, whoever this person was they looked good- and he thought that maybe it was that one person that always managed to slip away from his conversations. There were only about 5 people on the floor he had never talked to, and he wanted this to be his chance, what better moment to meet his possible love-of-his-life than two in the morning? Leo sighed sadly as he removed his earphones, just in time to hear doors close. He quickly stumbled backwards, tripping on his own feet as he tried to catch a glimpse on whoever was there. Looking up from the leaves on the ground, he stared at the treetops, wondering what he just met.

───────────

“I swear to you! There was something else outside!” Leo exclaimed as Jason slowly petted his arm.

“Leo, you were outside in the middle of the night, you might have just been sleep deprived.” He tried to console his friend.

“I am not, and I will find this cryptid- even if it’s the last thing I do!” determination flooded Leo’s face, as worry filled Jason’s.

“Please don’t,” Jason pleaded, but Leo had already stood up and embarked on his mission. Jason sighed and looked at Piper, who was distracted with her phone.

“Why did you not try to stop him?” Jason asked and Piper looked up.

“Stop what?” She blinked once, “Uh, where did Leo go?” Jason sighed.

“Piper please just ask the girl out so you can finally be present in the moment,” Piper glared at Jason, “Leo is on a mission to find the ‘campus cryptid’ he saw last night at two in the morning.” Jason explained and Piper laughed.

“They could be anyone, well, good luck to Leo. This will be great.” Her laugh got just a bit louder as Jason tiredly sighed into his hands.  

───────────

Leo spotted you with headphones on, sitting underneath a tree in the shade. He had to do a double take, because he was unsure whether you were in fact his campus cryptid. The world fell away as Leo heard his own heartbeat in his ears. He wanted to approach you, yet he felt scared that he would bother you. Leo was not even sure whether you were his cryptid or not- however as he watched you grabbed an apple, eating it in only 5 bites, core and all. If you were not the person who was standing outside yesterday, you were definitely a different type of cryptid. A cute cryptid at that. Leo had not realized how long he had been standing there, but he realized he should do something soon. As he took a deep breath, being lost in his feelings, he stepped forward … and you were standing up. How could he approach you now? You were worth a shot though- except you were walking in the direct opposite direction from Leo. Dammit. 

───────────

Leo’s day progressed rather well- his test did not go horrible, however he was running late for a seminar he had to attend. These people standing in the hallway were not helping him. 

“Ah- coming through- I am in a hurry- let me-“ he stopped his apologies as he spotted you at the centre. You were holding a lizard, carefully in cupped hands and the students crowding you were each taking turns looking at the lizard, not touching it for every time someone tried you scolded them. 

“Don’t reach for my buddy! You will dry his skin!”  This was the first time Leo had heard your voice- and his breath stuttered. He wished you would say his name- but you two had not yet properly met so that would only be a dream. 

“What did you name the little guy?”  Leo overheard one of the students say, as he was slowly begrudgingly making his way away from the crowd- the seminar was mandatory, and he could not afford to be late-

“Little Lizard Leo,” you laughed, “He was just walking around here so I picked him up, he needs to go back outside.”  Could you read Leo’s mind? He had turned abruptly at hearing his name, being sure now that you were at least a cryptid. Leo glanced at his phone for the time, hoping he might have a minute to spare, but alas, he cursed as he ran the rest of the way towards the seminar. 

During a small 15-minute break in the seminar, Piper smiled devilishly at him. 

“Jason told me about your crush,” 

Leo’s head shot up. “I have a crush? No, no way-“ He felt his face get warmer, a crush on who? The cryptid? His heart skipped a beat as he thought about the concept of having a crush on you- your hair and eyes and laugh and - 

“I mean, he said it was the ‘college cryptid’ or something, but given,” Piper gestured at Leo, “Your reaction I am guessing you do in fact have a crush on someone.”  Leo shook his head. 

“I barely know the cryptid,” he shot back and Piper’s smile widened, “Besides I am not sure whether they would be the cryptid,” 

“Well, ask them, it’s not creepy at all to just go, ‘Hey, were you outside last night? At two? Me too! Wow, we have so much in common!’ And then bam- you are dating.”  

“Thank you for the suggestion, but I will not.” Leo told Piper off, Piper’s smile never dampening, “You are by the way only allowed to tell me to ask someone out when you finally ask her out. You have been pining for a good two months now!”  

“I don’t even know whether she likes girls!” Piper exclaimed and Leo rolled his eyes.

“She does, believe me.”  He comforted Piper, as she looked doubtful. 

“Fine. I will confess if you can prove that your college cryptid actually exists.” Piper challenged him, “Because maybe we can help identify your cryptid if you have a picture of it.”  

───────────

Leo was getting antsy. It had been almost two weeks since he had spotted you- the last time he saw you, you were just handing out cold tangerines from your bag. You had walked up to the table he was keeping occupied for his friends, said “You’re with three, right?”, put three tangerines down, said and walked away as he nodded. Leo had been working on his essay, and he got out of the essay brain fog a moment too late, for you were gone again. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Piper had asked five minutes after you had gone and Leo just responded with a hum as he returned to work on his essay. The deadline was later that day- last deadline of the semester luckily - and he could not be bothered to be made fun of because of his crush. 

Anyways, as the exam season was finally over Leo found himself at a party. This one was at a different dorm from his own, but he was excited to see new people. Maybe the cryptid would show up. He hoped so, he would finally find the courage to talk to you or something. 

As Leo walked around the party- lights flashing, the music a little too loud for a conversation, and a beverage in hand - he was disappointed to not spot you in the crowd. Piper had already left to be with her own crush and Jason was having fun in another corner of the room. Leo sighed, the music and sadness getting to him as he went outside for some air. 

The full moon was out, and Leo took a sip of his drink. Suddenly, he heard sounds coming from the tree line. The bushes rustled and Leo carefully stepped closer. He was about to ask whether there was someone there when a blur shot out of the bushes and into a low-hanging tree. Another bigger blur quickly followed, and when Leo finally gained sight within the moonlight, he saw you petting a cat in a tree. 

“What?” Leo said out loud, staring at the sight before him. You were still crouching on the tree stem, the cat slowly sitting down on your knees. Your back was leaning against the bark behind you, as the cat finally accepted your affections. Leo wished to be that cat. Wait- that’s a weird thing to think. 

You had frozen in mid pet, but started again when the cat headbutted you, demanding your affection. You were staring at Leo Valdez, in the flesh. He sounded surprised to see you, almost happy. The darkness of the night was enough to make sure you were unable to make out his actual face. You decided to do the best thing you could think of- ignore the situation and keep petting the cat. However, as you saw Leo slowly get out his phone from his pocket, your head shot up. You did not want a picture of this, because it was not the most normal position to be in and you did not need your crush making fun of you. This movement resulted in the cat quickly jumping out of the tree, and you quickly tried to follow, only to see it running inside the dorms. 

“Fuck,” was all you said. Leo had forgotten his initial plan because of your sudden movements. You were about to just turn around and be sad about losing the cat, but you were interrupted by Leo. 

“Why don’t you follow it inside?” He asked and you squinted at him.

“I wasn’t invited to the party.” You shrugged, looking at Leo as he cocked his head. 

“I was, we can get your cat out together if you want.” He suggested and you considered it for a second before nodding. You grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the dormhouse. Leo struggled for a second to get his footing, as he kept staring at your hands. He smiled dumbly, liking this feeling of your hand in his. He felt happiness in his chest as he realized he had talked to you- was having a conversation with you to some extent. 

As the two of you entered the building, Leo wanted to get you to his friends- proof you exist. However, you seemingly had other plans.

“I go left, you right. Be back in 20 with or without a cat. Good luck, detective.” You let go of his hand, on your mission of finding the cat. Leo smiled as he started looking too, stumbling upon Jason in the progress. 

“They are at the party!” He yelled into his friend's ear. Jason looked at him confused. 

“Who?” He yelled back. 

“The cryptid!” Leo responded. 

“Cool! Where are they? What’s their name?” Jason looked at Leo, as Leo’s face changed into one of realization. 

“Fuck! I don’t know! I will be back! Tell me if you see a cat!” Leo started moving through the crowd, trying his best to spot you. You hadn’t disappeared on him, right? He passed an empty room when movement caught his eye. As he looked inside, he saw you with four cats all cuddling you. Leo slowly made his way into the room. 

“I see you’ve found some cats!” He yelled over the music, and you looked at him surprised, before a smile filled your face as you nodded excitedly. Leo sat down next to you, keeping a little distance between the two of you. Your shoulders brushed as he leaned back, letting one of the cats climb on his lap. He started petting the cat, as he looked at you, being fully captivated by the cats. 

Leo wanted to talk to you, but you seemed so content with your activity and he dared not interrupt this time you had. He just wished to be able to scooch a little closer, to know your name, to be able to open his mouth a tell you how good he thinks you looked like this. His courage once again failed him. He figured that in a bit, if you stood up, he could strike a conversation. 

An alarm sound rang from your watch, and you looked at it in shock. 

“I have to go, thank you for the cats, detective,” Is all you said as you put the two cats that were on your lap on Leo’s. 

“Wait- Let me!” But you made a run for it, “Shit!” Leo exclaimed. Why did you have to leave? He looked at the cat in his lap, who purred against his chest. Leo pouted as he pets the cat. 

“Your campus cryptid was a cat?” Jason walked into the room. Leo shook his head. 

“They just left.” Was all he said. Jason sat down next to him. 

“Did you get their name?” He asked and Leo once again shook his head. Jason looked at his friend worried. “You alright, buddy?” Leo leaned against Jason’s arm. 

“I just- I couldn’t get myself to talk! They seemed so happy with the cats and-“ Leo yelled a little, “Jason, I am in deep shit and I don’t know how it happened.” 

Jason smiled as he petted Leo on the head. “It happens sometimes, Leo. You better catch your cryptid before you regret it.” Leo nodded, still petting the cats on his lap. Unbeknownst to Leo, Jason had spotted you on your way out and he knew exactly who you were. 

───────────

This morning during your lecture you had been approached by Jason Grace. You had worked together with him on projects once or twice, but you never took the energy to become good friends with him. He was just a guy you sat next to sometimes, however today he seemed to be in a chatty spirit. 

“So, you know Leo?” He side eyed you and you nodded, opening your laptop to take notes, “He has been obsessing over this ‘campus cryptid’ as he calls it.” Jason tried to gauge your reaction, however it was nine in the morning, so there was little emotion on your face except from ‘tired’, “And I think that you might be this cryptic crush he has.” That woke you up. 

“Me?” You gave Jason your full attention, “Cryptid?” 

“That is what you focus on?” Jason laughed, “You should talk to Leo, I fear he cannot approach you even if it was life or death, (Y/n).” You shook your head.

“I do not think I should approach someone who calls me a cryptid, Jason. Besides, I also do not think Leo can physically have a crush on me.” Jason looked at you, begging you with his eyes.

“Look, he probably just wants to find the cats we petted or something-” You sighed, “Okay, I won’t run away from him next time I see him.” Jason nodded approvingly. 

“You were running away?” He smiled and you looked at him tired of the conversation.

“Shut up, Grace.” 

───────────

You were not looking forward to having to confront Leo, but you promised Jason and perhaps you would actually become friends with him. You had liked hanging out with him last weekend, petting the cats. You just hoped that Leo did not actually think you were weird enough to be a cryptid. You had already figured out your plan- you found a book on cryptozoology in the library and put in some paper with your name and number on it. That would be funny, right?

Anyways, the book was to your side as you worked your way through various papers you had to read for next class. You were so consumed in your work that you had not noticed Leo grabbing his phone, not so subtly pointing it your way, and taking a picture of you. However, Leo had kept the flash on, and you did notice that. Your head shot up and you looked straight at him, staring into his eyes. Unblinking you watched as he stumbled on his words, quickly putting away his phone.

“Sorry!” Leo exclaimed, putting his hands up and he quickly turned. You blinked twice quickly and realized you messed up. Maybe this was slightly cryptic.

Leo on the other hand was panicking. He messed up massively, how could he ever approach you now? You just caught him taking a sneak picture of you like some fucking creep.  He cursed himself for messing up this badly. He should just, run away, change his name and never set foot on campus again. Yeah, that seems like a good one.

───────────

The next time Leo saw you was the next day, right outside of the dorms. You were just standing there looking at your phone. The sun had set, and Leo had stayed behind in the library to work on his essays. Leo had wanted to apologize for taking the picture, and maybe he had also thought you would have been there because he knew he had seen you there yesterday. He was disappointed that you weren’t there, but he sat down and kept working on his essays until it was well past dinner time.

However, now you were standing underneath the same tree where he first spotted you, and before Leo’s brain could put anything in, his legs had carried him towards you.

“Look, I want to apol-,” Leo started but you quickly cut him of with an abrupt hand movement.

“Wait!” You took three steps back, “Here!” you finished your sentence, and you ran towards your dorm. You quickly grabbed the cryptozoology book from your bag and ran back. Luckily, Leo was still standing there, looking bewildered.

“Uh-,” You alerted Leo of your presence, as you held out the cryptozoology book to him, “Jason said you uuh- were into cryptids and-” You felt your impromptu courage deflate as you started to stumble over your words, “so I found, uh, this book- it’s from the library but you should- look inside!” you finished your sentence, looking uncomfortably at Leo. He hesitantly grabbed the book and was about to put it away when you grabbed the book and made him open it.

Leo looked down at the loose page of white A4 paper, which contained a shitty drawing of what could resemble moth man. Underneath was written ‘CAMPUS CRYPTID a.k.a. (Y/n) (L/n)’ and a phone number.

“This is-” Leo felt a smile on his face, “You?” he laughed. You smiled awkwardly in return.

“Jason told me that you called me the campus cryptid and you know,” you vaguely gestured towards the book, “I thought this would be smooth enough for a cryptid.”

“It’s awesome, I love it,” Leo had almost said ‘you’ but that would be too soon, “Would you maybe get some cryptic coffee with me?” He asked, nervously looking you in the eyes.

“Only if there are cats,” you smiled at him. Leo laughed

“You sure like your fellow cryptids,”

“Pft, whatever, cryptozoologist.”

Happy birthday Danny!

#requests #request #leo #leo valdez imagines #Leo valdez x reader #xreader #y/n #x you #pjo x you #hoo x you #percy jackson x you #x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #college au #fanfic #pjo fanfic #toa x reader #coi #cabinofimagines #asja writes #admin asja #admin asnyox

[runekeepershymnal]

AO3 still down, huh? Anyone want a chunk of the TRC Noah-is-alive and Adam-is-the-ghost AU?

Big time warnings for suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm, injury, depression, grief, and hospitals.

Tentativvely titled “After,” and this is a chunk of a WIP that I don’t know if I will finish.

—

Everything was different, after.

When Ronan found himself in a pool of his own blood, torn apart by his own self-loathing, he thought idly that it was just as obvious that a hospital would not help him any more than it would have helped his father. Blood or brains, there was only so much of oneself that could exist outside the barriers of skin and bone before the shell of the body was emptied out.

Ronan had wondered, idly, if the Catholic prohibition against suicide extended to being involuntarily brutalized by his own unconscicous mind.

He wondered if he was going to Hell.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed between his waking, the post-dream paralysis, and what followed. It all came in flashes, a slow strobe light of moments disconnected by hypovolemic shock.

First, he heard the door of his dorm room, currently shared with his younger brother Matthew, slam open. The pale kid from one of his classes was on the other side. The lapels of his Aglionby blazer festooned with buttons from various punk bands new and old, and he was always bruised or scraped someplace or other from skateboarding. Maybe that was why he didn’t flinch as he skidded to his knees at Ronan’s side on the floor. Ronan read the buttons as the kid yanked his own tie off, then Ronan’s, wrapping each around one of Ronan’s arms in the middle of his forearm, spiraling down to his wrists as far as they would go, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Buzzcocks. Black Flag.

Second, the kid then dialed 911 with shaking hands smeared in crimson which was slowly drying to black-brown. Ronan didn’t hear much of the call, only registering someone outside saying,

“Noah? What’s going—”

“Keep Matthew out of here,” the pale boy snapped in tense terror.

“Oh dear god—”

“Gansey, close the fucking door, please? Don’t let anyone in but an EMT or a nurse or… whoever.”

Noah. That was skate punk’s name. The Living End. Ronan did not want Matthew to see him like this. Ronan didn’t even want Declan to see him like this. He’d forgotten Noah knew Gansey. Gansey had bought a warehouse. NOFX. What… however-old-Gansey-was year-old bought a warehouse? Op Ivy. But it had been the warehouse where K held his annual illegal Halloween rave, so the inconvenience to K negated any stupidity of Gansey’s. Mr. Bungle.

Gansey, not stupidly, closed the door. Ronan could hear Gansey’s voice, distantly, explaining to people that they could not come in, that there was an emergency, but it was being handled. Ronan even heard the house-parent of Effervescence having a discussion with Gansey which somehow resulted in the former waiting outside to direct the EMTs. But then, this was Gansey after all, who’d talked the cops into burning trash in the warehouse parking lot with them just ten days ago.

Ronan’s vision was starting to blur, the various safety pins and one inch buttons on Noah’s lapel starting to run together. There was one that said “The Aglionby Killbillies” which looked like it had been scribbled by hand on scantron paper and then made into a button.

“Hey, stay awake, Ronan,” Noah ordered, patting Ronan’s cheek firmly. Ronan could feel him leaving tacky splotches of Ronan’s own blood against his cheek.

“Who the fuck are the Aglionby Killbillies?” Ronan rasped.

Noah glanced down at his own jacket, then back at Ronan.

“It’s my band,” Noah said, yanking the sheet off Ronan’s bed and trying to put more pressure on his wrists.

“You named your band after this shithole?” Ronan asked him. Noah scowled.

“Is this really the time?” he muttered, still more afraid than angry.

“Just like… Aglionby isn’t very punk, is it.”

Ronan’s ears were starting to ring.

“Don’t worry about it,” he slurred. “Sucks that you had to see this.”

“Stay awake!” Noah begged, shaking Ronan by the shoulders. Ronan’s head lolled to his left as his vision tunneled. There was one button closer to Noah’s collar that had been obscured by his fluffy hair.

Suicidal Tendencies.

Ronan Lynch passed out laughing.

—-

It certainly didn’t look like Hell.

Maybe it was Hades instead, Ronan considered as he walked between the trees. Maybe this was the Wood of Suicides.

Wait. That was Dante.

It was dark, but in a fairytale way, not an Inferno way, despite the fact that there were Hieronymous Bosch monsters all over the place. The black, greasy feathered beasts with their sickle claws and their guillotine beaks were peering malevolently from the trees, clicking and hissing and snapping at him. One spread its wings, preparing to dive at him. Ronan didn’t know if he should bother to run, but then, thunder rumbled, and the nightmare did something Ronan had never seen it do:

It flinched.

The nightmares hissed in outrage, and the sky flickered. The next thunderclap was louder, closer, and instead of diving, they rose into the air in a single, panicked flock, fleeing from this part of the forest.

A voice echoed beside the thunder, different from the whispers Ronan always heard from the trees here. There was weight behind it, and it was singular, not a chorus. Ronan wasn’t sure if it was addressing him or the departing nightmares when it said,

“Nice try.”

—-

Ronan woke up under stiff hospital sheets. Matthew was asleep in a chair to his left, explained by Gansey, who was reading to them both from his leather journal, seated on his right. Matthew never once managed to stay awake through the end of any of Gansey's Glendower stories. Ronan had a terrible headache. His arms hurt, and the cannula of the IV felt foreign and horrible in his vein. He wanted to tear everything off and out, the gauze wrapped around his wrists, the stitches that were no doubt underneath, and the tube restoring his fluids. He wanted to capsize the beeping machine that confirmed he was alive, tear the TV showing the weather channel from its mount near the ceiling, launch one of the shitty wooden chairs with its stained upholstery through the glass of the window and then leap after it.

“Don’t,” Declan said tersely from the doorway. Gansey startled, though Matthew slept on, and accepted the Starbucks cup Declan held out to him. Declan didn’t sit, but leaned his back against the wall near the door and looked up at the ceiling, shutting his eyes.

There was no telling what Declan was telling Ronan not to do. Probably any of the things that Ronan wanted to do besides lie there. Gansey’s chair made an awful noise against the floor as he dragged it close enough to Ronan’s bed to reach under the bar designed to keep Ronan from falling out and wrap his fingers around Ronan’s hand.

“I won’t ask why,” Gansey said at last. His eyes were red, either from crying or from having had his contacts in for Christ only knew how long or both. The noise from Gansey’s chair woke Matthew, who staggered to his feet only to drag his own chair forward and yank Ronan’s head to his chest.

“You can’t do that,” Mathew said wetly against the top of Ronan’s head. “Okay? You can’t. What would Mom say?”

Their mom wouldn’t say anything, because she was in a coma. Their dad wouldn’t say anything, because he was dead. Declan wouldn’t say anything because there wasn’t anything to say to one’s grieving sibling who had very nearly piled on yet more grief.

“Gansey and I have made a deal,” Declan said instead, not looking at Ronan, not even opening his eyes.

“The fuck?” Ronan rasped out, and Matthew loosened his grip enough that Ronan could look around again. “Why the fuck does my throat hurt?”

“Because you had a goddamned breathing tube because you nearly goddamn died,” Declan said tersely. Ronan finally noticed that Declan in his rolled up shirtsleeves, Gansey in his horrible magenta polo, and Matthew in his ratty t-shirt from a charity walk three years ago, all had bandaids at the crooks of their respective elbows.

Declan and Matthew’s blood probably cancelled each other out, thank God, Ronan would just have to watch out for bees, polo shirts, and obsessiveness over dead Welsh kings until that worked its way out of his system.

“Should you be drinking coffee?” Ronan asked the space between Declan and Gansey and Matthew’s chest. “Shouldn’t you be drinking fuckin’… orange juice, or tomato juice or some shit?”

“What?” Gansey asked, the glanced at his elbow. “Oh. No, that was days ago, I just forgot to take it off."

All three of them had. Apparently Ronan hadn't been exaggerating the seriousness of his own situation to himself.

"Fuck," Ronan said.

"No fucking kidding, Ronan!" Declan exploded, unplanned. Declan hadn't exploded at Ronan since his theft of the BMW. "I thought someone had murdered you! It nearly hit a goddamn artery! I thought that I was going to have to…"

Declan trailed off there. His eyes glistened, but his jaw was clenched for war, not stoicism.

"Declan, take a walk," Gansey said, quiet but firm. Declan's tension unraveled

"Christ, you're an asshole," he said instead, and Ronan didn't know how Declan made such fighting words sound so goddamn sad. Gansey looked up sharply.

"Declan. Take a walk."

Declan turned and left the room without another word, and the remaining three of them suffered in the silence that followed.

"Declan and I have made a deal," Gansey repeated Declan's earlier, cryptic words. "You're going to come live with me at the warehouse instead of the dorms. You're going to keep going to class, once you're healed up enough, and you're going to pass those classes. You're going to stay out of trouble with the law, and you're going to see a therapist for at least three weeks after you're discharged. You're going to go to church with your brothers every Sunday, and you're going to abide by the terms of your father's will."

Ronan swallowed, his throat still aching terribly. He hated living at Aglionby, but…

"Does Declan not want me around Matthew?" Ronan forced out.

"You don't listen to me," Matthew sniffled. Ronan turned to look at him, and there wasn't any resentment there. Matthew's face wouldn't know how to show it anyway. "And you don't listen to Declan either, pal. You do listen to Gansey, though."

Ronan bristled. He prided himself on the fact that he didn't listen to anyone, not anymore. Gansey had just listed off the next steps of Ronan's life, though, not as a suggestion or a request, and there was no question in Ronan's mind that this was what would happen.

Fuck, he really must've lost a huge amount of blood.

"Whatever," Ronan agreed, as much as he could bear to. Gansey nodded, patted Ronan's hand and stood.

"I'll find him and make the arrangements," Gansey declared, as though all those arrangements hadn't already been made.

"It'll be okay," Matthew said once Gansey was gone. "You know you can talk to me, right? Like, you don't have to… you can tell me when you get sad like that."

Matthew's lip quivered just a little. He looked like the Cabanel painting of the weeping Lucifer, minus all the anger.

Ronan tried to imagine a Matthew who could bear the weight of Ronan's pain on top of his own, and there was no such person. To unburden himself into Matthew would be the worst thing Ronan could do, worse even than tearing himself apart, with or without intent.

What would even be the point? Ronan couldn't put this weight down, he could only use it to crush someone else alongside him.

"It's gonna be fine, Matty," Ronan rasped out. "I didn't mean to, not really."

No one should've believed that. That sort of hurt wasn't something that could happen by accident, not to anyone other than Ronan, anyway. Matthew believed it because Ronan didn't lie, and because he was Matthew.

Because he was Matthew, he hugged Ronan again. Buried against his little brother's chest, Ronan did not know how to fix this.

#the raven cycle #the raven cycle au #ghost!Adam alive!Noah au #ronan lynch #noah czerny #still pynch but Noah and Ronan adore each other #WIP #my fic stuff #AO3 is down- we must persevere together #cw: suicide #cw: injury #cw: hospitals #cw: self-harm #cw: grief

[polyamorouspunk]

Dude. I booked my ticket to see my partners a couple days ago (not next week but the week after). And just cut my hair in prep to go see em. And I'm hype. Thanks for letting me be excited in your inbox lol

Prev. Anon haircut and partner trip. Any advice for someone who has never flown before? I've taken trains but this feels much more serious lol

Chew gum when taking off and landing to try and pop your ears (don’t worry if they don’t pop mine normally don’t but sometimes the pressure can fuck you up so try and make sure you’re not congested or anything)

TSA is anxiety-inducing. It’s fast-paced and you’ll feel rushed. Of course I’m talking as an American here so if you aren’t American then first of all go to bed and second of all these might not apply but I’m assuming you are so TSA is fast-paced, you will feel rushed, just grab your stuff and move away from the area to put your shoes back on and everything (don’t wear flip-flops, wear something with socks because you’ll have to walk across the floor without shoes)

There are places to eat there, you can buy food after you go through TSA and bring it on the plane in your bag if you have a carry on

If you’re staying someplace you can wash your clothes you probably don’t need to do the stow-away luggage thing, just bring a few outfits if you can in a carry-on, HOWEVER depending on how big your carry-on can be this may or may not be a reasonable option

Each airline has it’s own set of rules so it’s best to look them up and measure your bag and everything

Airports are separated by airlines. Depending on how big the airport you’re going to is there will be different roads depending on what airline you are using. Be sure to pay attention to road signs and drive slowly if you can so you have time to read and absorb the information on the road signs telling you where to go. If you aren’t driving yourself then help whoever is driving with reading the signs and directions so they can focus on driving.

If you’re keeping your car there you might need to take a shuttle bus to the airport

If you’re doing stow-away luggage your first priority when you get off is to find your luggage conveyer belt. When in doubt follow the crowd. It’ll probably take a few minutes of everyone standing around the conveyer belt before the luggage starts showing up. It’s anxiety-inducing to wait to see your luggage show up. Try and remain calm.

I’m sure other people probably have good tips I’ve forgotten but other than that don’t worry. Charge up your phone and stuff, same as you normally would do for being away from home for a day. Wear good travel clothes. Same thing applies to train rides.

#punk gets mail

[godhoodandgirlhood]

AVEN MOON (p. ebony) ‧₊˚✩彡

(these character introductions are inspired by @/liv-is, check out their blog!!!)

There is a certain comfort in carrying the weight of your own corpse. Being followed by someone you used to be, piecing together new and old parts of identity. These things are an inevitability in Aven's life. Transitioning young, especially in Korea, makes you stick out like a sore thumb. Even when he was merely 12, the beginning of his transition, he felt the stares of strangers on the street burning holes in his pasty white skin. There were other things that made him stand out amongst the humdrum crowd, from his wavy hair his mother could never straighten to the fact that everyone knew his father left on Aven's third birthday. But he never broke, always held his head high when he was shoved into storage closets and hit by his mother when he overcooked the same rice he had been cooking every morning of his entire life. Aven was never upset that his mother freaked out at the market and cried every night, because she was weak, so he had to be strong. He grew up small, but now he is big, like the man his mother meant him to be. Aven obsessively took care of his mother, washed her back when she sobbed and brushed her hair until she fell asleep, and worked ruthlessly anywhere he could to make him superior, stronger, more worthy than his father could ever be. When he became new, reborn as a pretty man with soft blonde hair and broad shoulders and hips, Aven absorbed information like a sponge, making up for lost time he spent hating something that wasn't real. He worked at a convenience store but the spinning rack of books was close to the register, so he read as much as he breathed. Aven consumed essays like dinner, every word parasitic in his weak gut. At the gym, he listened to men speak of laws of the devout in Renaissance Italy or the life of a silent Greek man who just watched. Everything Aven did was obsessive, as if the consumption of all things humane will make up for every word he didn't say, every action he never took. There was a time when all Aven could be was full, so much so he would explode, but then came a day where he spilled himself like ink on paper, burning the information engraved into his mind onto a measly piece of lined paper in a composition notebook. Aven wrote and wrote and wrote for so long he didn't even realize he turned eighteen, then nineteen, and he suddenly felt arcane. Suddenly, he had a brother, and suddenly, his mother was good as new. Suddenly, the whole world changed while he stayed sixteen, smoking in his bed writing about a life he never lived. Aven woke up, and adjusted just as quickly as everything changed. He received an invitation in the mail for essays he didn't know he shared, but the ache in his soul to stay and make up for lost time anchored him to his bedroom floor. But there was his mother, the only person to stay, the only person to urge him to leave. So Aven did, bought a ticket to Scotland to attend Lovecraft's School of Humanities with nothing but a bag of clothes and a cheap box of hair bleach. The glue holding Aven Moon together was slowly withering away, but time waits for no man, especially not this one.

CREDENTIALS ♡

"Ven? An angel. He's the sweetest guy anyone knows, probably. At least, he's the sweetest guy I know, but that might just be boyfriend brain." -Florian Devoe, boyfriend. "My son saved me. There is no other way to phrase it. Aven deserves the world, or at least what's left of it." -Da-Eun Moon, mother. "Um, he's very charming. Big ideas too. He's going to be big, I hope. But yes, he has done a lot for me, Jolie as well. I don't think we would have met without him being so... loud." -Sergio Fiore, friend. "Aven? Who is that?" A tall girl asked, before her friend whispered something in her ear, "Oh, [REDACTED]! I didn't know that was her name. Uh, she was nice. Always someplace else though." -[REDACTED], ex-peer.

MISC. ♡

Voice Claim: Angsty Teen - FNAF: Sister Location Theme Song: Cabo - Ricky Montgomery Fun Fact: While he would tell others he has great coping strategies, his actual strategy is to chain smoke in his room. Still, Aven does constantly spray his room with disenfectant spray.

✿ ⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

#writeblr #writerblr #writeblr community #writing #writing community #character intro #character introduction #character reveal #oc #oc reveal #my characters #my wip #godhoodandgirlhood #he's so pretty #transboy swag

[void-tiger]

Pets are still a bit “change?!” out of sorts since we got my bed rotated (desk still isn’t set up, I’m still gonna lose my OG Spot in front of my bookcases to Chill) but...it gives the Illusion of More Space, anyway? (Or, I sorta have a spot in the middle of the floor to set up my eisel if I feel like it...but leaving it up isn’t gonna really work, now...) and for Tonks it’s Bed AND Window AND Tower by bed??

So...the fussy cat gets to feel spoiled, and Zorro’s a bit put out. (Cats aren’t allowed on the other cats’ beds. Don’t need that terretorial mayhem, thanks...)

#tiger’s musings #let’s be icarus #still waiting for a form to mail in so that I can just mail the two forms about 2018 together and HOPEFULLY be done with it #why do they want 2018? idk. but whatever #I don’t exactly feel like starting interactions with my advisor about enrollment and crap #until the college will accept my fasfa vs whining about 2018...in 2021. #IDK. Maybe instead of an office chair I’ll get a comfey reg chair! #the logic: if it’s light enough then I can store it under the desk #and pull it out when I DON’T want to use my desk #so that I have someplace other than my bed or the floor to read or game on my DS #two birds. one stone. #just...need to get the desk built so I know what will work for that space #oh. and buy the shit I keep putting off. (NOT looking foreward to nearly $1k in fitting bras + prolly around $300 for new bedding) #and dad’s pushing me to get a new phone even if I buy his old one off of him #...right. budget it out and tell him to lay off about the phone... #or. they help me foot the bill for some of it. two stimulus checks and leftover money that didn’t go to student loans only goes nth far

[frogtanii]

tw. serious self loathing

kenma hated hospitals.

the cold sterile air, the incessant beeping of machines, the loud voices of the doctors — mix it all together and you get the perfect recipe for kicking up kenma’s anxiety.

it was bad enough, what with you being the one in the hospital bed, tied up to all those machines but all the other more extraneous details certainly didn’t help.

kenma’s eyes darted around the white hallway, his knee bouncing erratically as he tried to listen in through the door at what the doctor was saying. earlier, when he had tried to follow behind the rest of the house members to get your diagnosis, he was stopped by kuroo’s hand on his chest and a sad shake of his head.

he’d made his way back to the cold, unforgiving seats lining the hall right outside your room and attempted to overhear, something, anything, that would abate his anxieties.

unfortunately, the conversation was over before kenma could glean anything of substance, the door swinging open as the doctor exited, the atmosphere left in the room being tense and uncomfortable.

kenma quickly stood to his feet, glancing from face to face to discern some kind of news, be it good or bad. “w-what— is she okay? what’s going on?” as much as he willed it not to shake, his voice cracked in the middle of his sentence, his fear for you clearly bleeding into his words.

at the sound of his broken voice, all heads in the room turned towards him. he scanned all their faces but his eyes were stuck on atsumu’s, his own burning with a righteous fury.

before kenma could blink, atsumu was on him, shoving him up against the wall while pressing an arm against his chest. the thumping in kenma’s chest intensified, his eyes widening in dread as his breathing quickened.

he could faintly hear the sounds of protests from the other house members and off-duty nurses but they were swiftly becoming drowned out by the blood and static rushing in his ears.

“atsumu. step down.” sakusa gritted before yanking atsumu off of kenma, allowing kenma to collapse onto the floor. the residual adrenaline and anxiety came to the point they were overwhelming, his breath coming in short pants as he tears leaked from his eyes.

“i-i’m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, i didn’t know, thought that it would be ok, thought she would be okay but she’s not, oh god this is all my fault, i’m sorry, m sorry,” his words came out like a broken faucet before he couldn’t stop them, his arms wrapping around himself as he rolled into the fetal position, determined to erase himself from his surroundings.

a presence appeared in front of him, crouching down and grabbing his hands before where they were digging into his skin, cradling them gently within their own. “hey bud,” bokuto said kindly, a big smile on his face despite the circumstances. “breathe with me, ok?”

kenma nodded before matching bokuto’s exaggerated breathing, in and out, in and out, until his heartbeat was finally back to normal and he didn’t feel like he was going to collapse. “you wanna tell us what happened?”

he firmly kept his gaze on bokuto, determined not to look at everyone else’s scared, angry, or hurt expressions as he explained himself. “i-i saw yn g-go to the bathroom and it was fine because o-of course it was but then i s-saw meiko follow and it d-didn’t register? it happened so f-fast and then i got distracted and it e-escaped my mind until y-you guys brought it up. i j-just— i didn’t think m-meiko was gonna do anything. we were in public and—“

“that won’t stop her.” kenma chanced a look at suga who was the one who spoke, his eyes downcast and stormy with anger and... sadness?. “you didn’t know and that’s whatever, but meiko is fucking crazy. never underestimate her again.” he warned with a grave tone. all kenma could do was nod, a fresh wave of tears coming to his eyes.

“‘m sorry,” he whimpered, his gaze falling upon the white lines on his suit pants. the group let out hums of acknowledgment before falling back into a tense silence, the only sounds coming from the hospital around them.

it didn’t last very long.

“yn! yn!” a deep masculine voice rang from the entrance of the hospital, followed by a quieter platitude and then a host of shushes from the nurse on the floor. the taller man with dark hair managed to lock eyes with kenma, his body moving quickly until he was right in front of the group.

“i need to see her. now.” the man’s voice was dark and menacing but kenma was the only one who seemed to shrink at the sound, the others sizing the outsider up and glaring him down. atsumu waved them away before bringing the pair into a hug, the shorter pink-haired man sighing deeply into the embrace.

atsumu exchanged short “pleasantries” with the two newcomers before turning towards your door wistfully. “uh, ya will be able ta see her soon enough but her throat is fucked pretty badly. she’s asleep right now but doc says she won’t be able to talk for at least a week.”

kenma’s heart caught in his throat. you wouldn’t be able to speak?? because of him?? the thought made him clam back up, his dark hair spilling over his shoulders to shield him from the rest of the hall. he could hear more voices, a door clicking open, a soft gasp, and a growled threat but he was too strung up to focus any more than that.

my fault, my fault, my fault, my fault, played over and over on repeat in his mind, his inner demons taunting him for ruining your life. you would never forgive him, never lay your eyes upon him again without showing disgust and disdain. it was what he deserved, especially after the hell he put you through, no matter how much it hurt.

he faintly recognized at some point in his self loathing, that he was moving somewhere with the group, their hands on him as though they were leading him someplace, not that it mattered.

kenma already knew he was a horrible waste of space and this cemented it for him. but, his mind so helpfully offered, even if you are a piece of shit, you can still do something, something big. make meiko pay for how she hurt you and suga and the rest of them.

oh, he was going to do something alright. he was going to do something so large, so enormous that meiko’s reputation could never, ever recover.

kenma was absolutely going to get his revenge. not for him, no, he could care less about himself. no, he would do it for you and all those who had suffered by her hand.

after all, it was the very least he could do.

℗ poker face

the least he could do

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - i feel so horrible today so i don’t have much to write here??? KJSSN ty for reading n don’t forget to feed me <333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saiKishaircLip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq smau #haikyuu x reader smau #haikyuu smau #haikyuu #hq x reader smau #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #kenma x reader #kuroo x reader #bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #daichi x reader #sugawara x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #sakusa x reader #tw toxicity #tw toxic behavior #tw self loathing #tw toxic people #haikyuu social media au #hq social media au #℗ poker face #haikyuu angst #hq angst #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff

[vampireoutofbusiness]

“What’d you just call her?”

NAVIGATION

Pairing: Peter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not NSWF although if your sibling sees you reading it they might blackmail you/make fun of you, the dirty talk just escalated throughout lmao, peter being extremely embarrassed and cute

Synopsis: You've always cared for Peter but you never thought he would call you 'mom' by accident. What happens next leads to a fun confession.

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*Do not repost my work, reblogs are appreciated*

Everyone on the team knew how much you cared about Peter and it was very mutual. Being a teenage superhero leads to a part of you always being worried about him. He didn’t want you to, of course, but it was hard not to. Peter wasn’t very good at taking care of himself.

You made sure he was getting enough sleep, asking him when he went to bed last night and checking if he had dark under eyes. In that case, you made him stay home from a patrol for one night and sleep. Or, you encouraged frequent naps.

If you noticed he hadn’t eaten for a while, you subtly asked him if he wanted to go get food. Or you would make him something to eat. With his metabolism and activity it was very important he had something to fuel him.

It was easy for you to tell when he was about to break, even if it was hours prior, you knew. So when you felt the breaking point getting close, you took him someplace away from the others, usually one of your rooms in the compound, and let him cry and mumble until he fell asleep.

And sometimes, okay all of the time, he needed someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be fine. You welcomed him into your bed in the middle of the night when he woke up from a nightmare.

Overall, you took care of him and he loved you for it.

“Do you think you could go any faster?” You asked, resting your elbows on the table and place your head in your hands.

“This is all about strategy Y/n,” Tony told you while continuing to eye his cards.

“It’s Uno!”

“Maybe Stark is right, you’re not doing too hot right now,” Nat eyed your double-digit amount of cards face down on the table.

“And yet I am still doing better than Peter and Loki,” you smirked at the two sitting to your right with copious amounts of Uno cards.

It was normal for things to get a little heated on game night. Even if not everyone could attend, there was always bickering about who was playing correctly, if the winner cheated, etc.

The last time you thought Loki cheated at ‘battle ship’, the two of you refused to leave the table until he admitted he “cheated” or you admitted you were wrong. Peter had to carry you back to your room while Thor explained battleship etiquette to his brother…

“I think we should play something else,” Peter told the group and sighed.

“One more round, I’ve got this in the bag,” Tony put his card down.

It was a reverse, sending the next turn to you.

Turns continued until it was down to you and Tony with one card each. The next person to put down their card would be the winner of this game night.

You placed down your ‘blue 3’ and threw your arms in the air. Ha. Ha. Ha.

“Good game,” Tony congratulated, pretending not to be bothered.

“Oh I owned you and you know it!” You laughed before getting out of your seat.

“She did make a comeback Stark,” Nat told him before winking at you.

“As the winner, I don’t mind getting anyone something to drink.”

You got everyone’s orders, headed over to the kitchen, and carried them back to the table where the others discussed what to play next.

“Thanks, mom,” Peter said as you set down his root beer on the table. “We should play Clue—”

“What did you just call her?” Tony tilted his head and made eye contact with you.

Your eyes grew wide and you looked over to Peter. Did you hear him right? Sure, you did a lot for him but you didn’t think of him as a child.

“I- nothing…I didn’t call her any- anything,” Peter cleared his throat, cheeks to ears turning bright red.

Loki burst out laughing before settling on a mischievous smirk.

“I think you just called your girlfriend mom,” Nat took a sip of the water you brought her. “Kinky.”

“Is this a frequent occurrence?” Loki asked Peter who wished he could shrivel up right about now.

“No.”

“No!”

Both you and Peter told the others together.

“I didn’t- it just kind of slipped out and- I wouldn’t sleep with my mom!”

“You two have done it?” Tony looked to you since Peter had sunk into his chair for the millionth time.

Yes. Yes, you and Peter had done it but this is not how you thought people would find out. You weren’t sure what the alternative would be but now you never would. After dating for 6 months, of course, you did, you were young and horny.

“Can we just forget about it?” You crossed your arms and sunk in your chair like your boyfriend.

“This is hilarious and I will never let Peter live it down.” Tony chuckled at your’s and Peter’s current state of embarrassment.

You actually did find it a little funny, considering Peter got so flustered about it.

———————————————————————————————

Peter sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for you to show him the “new outfit” you had gotten.

When you walked out in a black lingerie set, Peter’s jaw fell to the floor. It hugged every curve just right. Showed off everything he loved about your body (which was quite literally everything, he thinks you’re a goddess).

“You look,” he stood up and walked over to you, his hands immediately going to your waist, “amazing”.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You cupped his face, bringing his lips to yours. The two of you always had kissing down, it was just so natural to have your lips on Peter Parker’s. He squeezed your waist when you slipped your hand under his shirt. You pulled back and put your finger to his lips when he tried to chase yours.

“Mommy’s gonna go lock the door,” your voice was low, trying to hold back the laugh building in your throat.

Peter’s eyes grew wide and he nodded eagerly as you backed away.

“Peter?” You continued your task of locking the door but turned to face him. “You know I was joking, right?”

His cheeks turned crimson and he looked at the floor.

“Yeah uh- of course, that’d be weird if you weren’t.”

“Oh,” you turned the lock and walked back to him. “So you don’t like it when I tell you what to do?”

“No, I love it when you do that…” His voice was quiet but you heard him.

You brought your index finger to his chin and brought his eyes to yours.

“So you want me to…” he squinted his eyes to avoid your intimidating gaze, “to call you- ya know…”

“Say it, Parker.”

“Mommy.” To say Peter was embarrassed would be an understatement.

“Sounds sexy.” You smirked at your boyfriend.

“Heh,” Peter gave you a shy smile, “yep I suppose.”

“Why don’t you start by taking off your shirt.”

GO READ PART TWO

#peter parker #tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #marvel #avengers #peter benjamin #peter parker fic #mcu #spiderman

[shig-a-shig-ah]

LAYING CLAIM

» pairing: dabi x fem!reader

» cw: dubcon, revoked consent, noncon (we’re going on a journey, okay?), rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, crying, gratuitously fanon characterization. 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Started this months and months ago, and since I’m finally getting around to wrapping some WIPs, I guess you can have it now. Thanks @thebiggergroove​ for beta-reading!

» wc: 5.3k

» ao3 mirror

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The thing about Dabi is he's not usually a possessive guy. Fucking is fucking, as far as he's concerned—it doesn't really matter who is doing it with whom as long as everyone is getting off on it. But goddamn if there isn't something about you that makes him want to make you his.

And he's gotten that, more or less. It took some sweet talking and cajoling, and a few late nights where he made you come until you couldn't see straight, but you agreed not to go sleeping with anyone else. Sure, you've made him promise the same, but that's fine. Not that he's going to actually stop, of course, but he goes out on recruiting missions alone and he figures what you don't know won't hurt you.

That's all enough to satisfy him, at least for a little while. But then a few weeks pass and there it is again: that stupid jealousy and all those unbidden thoughts about the people you were with before him. People he knows. You never talk in too much detail about your past hookups, but he's not stupid, is all too aware that he's not the first one in this ragged band of miscreants that you've crawled into bed with. You've fucked Jin, and Shigaraki, and probably even Magne, god rest her soul—Dabi hadn't missed the way the two of you had huddled up giggling in the corner of the old bar one night, disappearing together unusually early, making those bedroom eyes at each other. And in theory that's fine. Nothing wrong with two girls having fun together, after all. Hell, bi chicks are hot and Dabi wouldn't mind taking advantage of that someday.

But first he needs to find a way to get the image of you with your legs spread for half the League out of his goddamn head.

If he's being honest, it's Shigaraki who bothers him the most. Magne is dead. Jin is a decent dude and, Dabi has to imagine, tame as a kitten in the sack. But Shigaraki, well...Dabi can tell just by looking at the guy that he's a freak, and the idea of you riding Shigaraki's dry, crusty dick, of letting him do who-knows-what filthy shit to you? It just gets to him.

And then Toga has to suggest that stupid game and go putting ideas in his head.

You're all sitting around the crumbling office space that passes for a hideout, drinking to celebrate the League's first successful double-amputation (because fuck that germophobic, transphobic prick), and blondie is just begging to play a drinking game. Normally Dabi doesn't go for that shit—why anyone needs an excuse to get wasted is beyond him—but he's in a good mood, and you make that adorable pouty face as you tell him that you played in college, that it's really fun, and somehow he finds himself sitting in a circle on the dusty floor with the rest of you losers playing 'I haven't' or whatever the fuck it's called.

It's all bland shit to start. Toga's never driven a car, Shigaraki's never gone to school. But, after you've made your way around the circle once, everyone seems to be loosening up and Spinner takes one for the team by getting to the interesting shit and admitting he's never slept with a girl. It spurs a moment of awkward silence made all the worse by his red face and obvious self-consciousness about being a virgin, but then Compress stage-whispers "Neither have I," before winking salaciously at the blushing lizard and taking a dramatic pull from his beer bottle. It's enough to lighten the mood.

After that, Dabi's forced to admit it's a decent game. There's not much he hasn't done sexually or criminally, and since those are the two topics everyone focuses on, he finds himself getting hammered faster than usual. It's a good thing too—his buzz makes it easier to ignore the look you and Shigaraki exchange when Jin announces that he's never tried watersports, easier to pretend his gut isn't twisting at the knowing smirk on your leader's face as he raises his beer bottle to drink and you follow suit.

That particular moment makes it all the more surprising when, on your next turn, you hide an embarrassed face behind your hand and announce that you've never taken it in the ass.

Dabi can't stop thinking about it the rest of the night. Obsessing over it, and the idea of being your first, your only, even if only in some less than conventional way. The thing is, it's downright tame in comparison to a lot of what you two get up to, so barely even kinky that it's almost impossible to believe you've never tried it. Sure, you've never done it together, but he'd just figured neither of you were all that into it, since it hadn't come up when you were doing lewd shit to each other.

That kind of sex is fine from his perspective, but only fine. He doesn't actively seek it out because in his mind nothing beats the feel of being balls-deep in a warm pussy, but that doesn't mean he hasn't done it. He's hooked up with plenty of girls that were into it and has always been happy to oblige; hell, he's even taken it more than once, on account of the fact that when it comes to the bedroom he's willing to try anything twice.

But doing it with you? Well, that thought sticks. The two of you finally go to bed and Dabi's so turned on by the idea of your virgin ass that he can't help testing the waters, prodding teasingly at that tight hole with one spit-slicked finger until you're squirming away and whining. He doesn't manage to convince you right then, but he makes those puppy dog eyes that are far more effective than they have any right to be, and you agree to give it a go in the future.

"Not here," you specify, the words fuzzy on your drunken tongue. "Someplace nicer, with a real bed." You already have your reservations, and you certainly don't relish the idea of undertaking that particular venture now, on a worn mattress in this falling apart building, with its paper-thin walls and complete lack of hot water. Between your booze-fueled haze and the seeming interminability of the League's poverty, you mostly forget about that casual promise by the following morning.

But Dabi doesn't. He picks up a small bottle of lube the next day and carries it around in his pocket shamelessly, a little reminder that he has something to look forward to besides roasting that prick Endeavor, and he strokes himself off to the idea more than he's proud to admit as he waits for the League to move on to better things. He can be patient, when he needs to be.

That patience takes a toll though, and the minute the League settles into their new digs in Re-Destro's sprawling villa, where there's actually privacy and clean, comfortable beds, Dabi shows up at your door with a cheshire grin and every intention of finally getting something from you that's just for him.

You grimace when you remember that promise, try briefly to talk him out of it even, but he isn't so easily dissuaded. It's made all the harder by the fact that you can't give him a specific reason why you've never tried it, beyond that it seems uncomfortable and you hadn't particularly enjoyed the couple instances when you'd allowed someone to slip a finger or two in there.

"C'mon, baby girl," Dabi coos, his breath hot in your ear as he pins you to the wall, working two unnaturally warm fingers into your cunt. "I'll make sure it's good for you. Be gentle, get you nice and warmed up first, all that sweet shit."

It really is unfair how persuasive he can be when he fixes those pleading turquoise eyes on you. The way the pads of his fingers are curling just right deep inside isn't helping either, and he teases you like that until you give in to his cajoling, though you still insist on waiting a couple nights so that you can do your research and make sure you're entirely prepared. Dabi demonstrates his appreciation by burying his face in your cunt and not surfacing for air until you've come three times and are begging for a break.

When the night finally arrives, Dabi's feeling positively giddy. He slips into your bedroom with a bottle of wine and a couple glasses he's brought, a little something to help you relax because he's a gentleman when he wants to be. It should be good booze too—he lifted it from Re-Destro's private stash, and he's certain baldy doesn't drink anything that costs less than ¥30,000. Of course, Re-Destro doesn't love sharing either, but the uptight prick is too scared of Shigaraki to complain about anything the League does. They all take advantage of that, because they can and because it's fun to watch him bite his tongue when they piss him off.

You don't make it easy for Dabi to focus on pouring the drinks though, not when you're reclining in that armchair by the window, freshly showered and fidgeting nervously. He was half-erect before he got here from just thinking about what he was going to do to you, and the sight of you acting like you're some blushing virgin spurs him all the way to rock-hard. By the time your glasses are close to empty, he's straining uncomfortably in his pants, and can't fight back his impatience any longer.

"What do you think, doll?" he murmurs, setting his glass to the side and standing up, shrugging his jacket off before leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. "You ready to move this to the bed?"

The way you chew at your lower lip anxiously before nodding makes his dick throb.

You empty your glass with one final, large swallow, your heart racing as you rise. You know it's stupid—you and Dabi have fucked countless times and a lot of it hasn't exactly been vanilla—but it's been a long time since you've actually tried anything new. His obvious excitement doesn't help either, paradoxically; it leaves you fretting about what will happen if you're somehow bad at this, or if you can't take it and have to stop. You've never really worried about disappointing him before, but now the thought weighs acutely on your mind.

It's with halting steps that you approach the bed and then, when you can't realistically drag your feet any longer, you finally tug the nightgown you're wearing off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor to reveal what's underneath.

"Damn, baby girl," Dabi breathes, looking you up and down. You'd figured that since it was a special occasion you might as well dress up, donning a strappy bra and panties. They're little more than elaborate, crisscrossing pieces of lace, all white since he'd seemed so fixated on this pseudo-innocent, first-time act. His reaction doesn't disappoint, eyes lighting up as he stares at you hungrily.

You let yourself fall back on the bed, nestling against the many pillows. The look on his face has your stomach fluttering, and the wine has helped you to relax a bit despite your nerves, a pleasant warmth spreading throughout your body. It's joined by a different kind of heat when you feel the mattress dip beneath Dabi's weight as he positions himself over you, one knee resting between your thighs, just barely brushing against your center, a hint of what's to come.

"You look so good I could just eat you up," Dabi whispers hotly against your ear before tracing his lips over your jaw. Even though he wants to take his time, let himself savor this, it's taking every ounce of patience he has to keep the promise he made to get you worked up and ready for him, to not to tear those pretty bits of satin and lace off and have his way with you right then.

You whine eagerly when his mouth slants hungrily over yours, savoring the feel of those mismatched lips, the way the rough skin of the bottom one contrasts so deliciously with the top. Hot hands run over your sides as the kiss deepens, your tongues tangling together, and you moan against him.

When you finally break for air, Dabi moves his lips to your throat, his tongue lapping at your pulse before he sinks his teeth into you. He loves to mark you up, loves making sure everyone can see that you're indisputably his, and it's even hotter now that he knows he's going to fuck you in a way no one else has. You're shivering beneath him as he works, your hand tugging insistently at his hair, and Dabi lets out a low, throaty growl.

"Guess I'm not the only one who's eager, huh?"

Your hips tilt in response, pressing needily into his firm thigh, and Dabi can feel the skin on his cheeks straining against his staples as he grins. He traces one hand up over your ribs, cupping at your supple breasts, teasing your hardening nipple through the flimsy fabric of your bra. Those deft fingers work under the seam of your lingerie as he shifts his weight, increasing the pressure against your center while he pinches and tugs at the peaks of your breasts until you're whimpering, spreading slick along his leg even through your thin panties.

Dabi pulls away abruptly, rolling onto his back and tugging at you to change positions, shaking his head when you move to mount his hips.

"Come here, baby girl," he says, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. "Like I said, I wanna eat you up."

The promise in those words sends a bolt of heat straight through your core as he guides you to straddle his face, hot breath tickling your inner thighs. One calloused thumb brushes your clit lightly through your underwear, blue eyes sparkling when your breath hitches at that soft touch. When he pulls that useless fabric to the side and runs his tongue over your already-damp slit, you shudder.

Dabi lets out a pleased groan at your reaction and gets to work more earnestly, lapping at your sensitive nub, licking and sucking until you're moaning and only then shifting a little so that he can lap at your insides, that same rough thumb replacing the pressure of his tongue on your clit. It strokes firm circles as he buries that hot, wet muscle inside you, the metal barbell there teasing your inner walls as you grind involuntarily against it. You can't help but whine when he withdraws it, but that disappointment is quickly replaced by you startling as that same wet muscle extends further back to tease at your puckered entrance.

"A-ah, Dabi, wait," you protest, your face heating up self-consciously almost at once.

Dabi pauses, shifting just enough to keep his reply from being muffled as one warm hand runs reassuringly up your thigh. "I don't think I can help myself, doll," he says, his slick-coated lips splitting into a wide grin, "you just taste too good."

That heat in your face worsens as he dives back in, not even waiting for you to respond before he's flexing his tongue to poke at that tight ring of muscle. You still try to squirm away, feeling unprepared for this. You hadn't even considered it among the possible activities were volunteering to participate in, but Dabi is holding you firmly in place with the hand not working at your clit, and when another whine of protest escapes you, it's weaker than the first. The foreign sensation of his tongue against your neglected hole has you hyperaware of the press of his thumb at your apex, and you can feel tension building in your core even as you writhe in embarrassment.

It's as though he knows, too, and you suppose maybe he does; after all, he's the one who's done this before. He thrusts his tongue a little deeper, rolling your clit between two hot fingers with enough pressure to cut off any further protests. A long moan is the only sound you can muster as you spill over the edge, your thighs clenching around his head and your hips jerking shakily as you ride out your climax with his tongue still buried obscenely in your rear.

Dabi's face is covered in your juices by the time he slides from between your thighs, and he wipes it away carelessly with one arm as he repositions you again, pinning you on your back and wasting no time peeling away your now-soaked panties. He grins at the sight of your glistening folds and swollen clit before stripping off most of his own clothes, kicking them unceremoniously to the side and relaxing between your legs, kissing at your still-trembling thighs.

He teases at your sensitive cunt with his fingers, coating them in your juices as you whimper. "Ready for a little more?" he asks, and you nod despite the fact that your cheeks are still burning from before and your stomach is knotting with nerves.

"Just...go slow, okay?"

"Of course, baby girl," he promises, "I told you I'd take good care of you." With that, he starts to work you open, dipping one finger into your tight hole just until he reaches the first knuckle, working it in and out slowly. His other hand toys at your clit, stroking and rolling that puffy nub again, making you mewl.

Dabi waits until you're relaxed before trying any more, pulling away from you just long enough to dig the lube from the pocket of his discarded pants, coating his fingers with it. He works that lone finger deeper this time, in and out until it's buried to the last knuckle.

The sensation is strange, but not entirely unpleasant; even if you think you'd rather have that finger curling in your cunt, the slight stretch is still adding to the faint throb already growing inside you, the one that worsens when his thumb returns to your apex.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Dabi growls when one well-placed stroke of his thumb has you clenching lightly around his finger. He ruts his hips against the sheets, trying vainly to find some relief for his aching member, but it's not enough—he needs to feel you, needs the vice-like grip clutching his fingers to be wrapped around his cock, and he needs it soon.

You feel him withdraw to add more lube, and then he's fingering you again, adding another digit to stretch you wider. It comes with a stab of discomfort when he forces his way past the second knuckle, and you reflexively try to pull back. "Dabi, that's too much."

He abandons his soothing attentions to your clit, one warm palm pressing you tight against the mattress to keep you in place, stroking soothingly at your hip. His breath tickles over your inner thigh as he chuckles softly. "If you can't take this, how are you ever gonna take me, hmm?" he says teasingly. "You're doing great, baby, just relax."

You will yourself to unclench, trying to picture Dabi's satisfied face once you're taking him, that adoring look he sometimes gives you, the one that you relish. Your efforts are only marginally effective, but Dabi keeps pushing deeper, fucking you slowly but insistently with those fingers, and when you don't complain again, his thumb returns to caressing your sex.

"That's a good girl." Dabi picks up the pace, cursing under his breath. "You're doing so good."

You're wriggling against his hand now, trying to increase the friction at your center, not quite minding the foreign sensation of his fingers and the uncanny fullness they bring so much now that there's heat thrumming in your core. "Y-yeah, like that," you pant encouragingly, and Dabi grins.

"That doing it for you?" he purrs. "Think you can take more?"

You start to shake your head—the stretch now feels like all you can handle—but Dabi's already adding a third slick finger, shoving it in with less restraint than before. You feel more than discomfort this time when three knuckles breach your asshole, and it quickly dampens the arousal that had been steadily building. "Dabi, slow down," you gasp.

"Aw, are you sure you can't handle it?" His blue eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with arousal as he looks you over with the hungry gaze. "'Cause if I'm being honest, it feels like you're trying to suck me in. Like this greedy little hole wants to get fucked."

The huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine, even as another whine of discomfort escapes you. For just a second his expression darkens slightly, but then he's slowing his movements, twisting his fingers instead of thrusting them in and out.

"Better?" he asks, and you think you catch an edge of impatience in his voice.

It is better though, a little at least, enough that you can focus on the way your cunt flutters every time his thumb strokes over your clit. So you just nod; it's not like this wasn't bound to be a little unpleasant at points, right?

Dabi's smile stretches wider, his thumb working faster. A mewl slips from between your lips and Dabi takes that as encouragement, his fingers resuming their persistent thrusts. It's still uncomfortable, though not quite as bad as when he started, and your teeth sink into your lower lip to bite back your complaints. You let your eyes fall closed instead, trying to focus on his attentions to your hooded nub, on the heat that's pooling in your lower belly. You're inching towards another release, and you let a hand lift to your breast, tweaking at the pebbled flesh of one nipple to help yourself along.

"D-dabi, I'm close," you stammer, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Yeah?" His movements speed up, his voice breathy and excited. "Do it, baby girl. Come for me and then I'm gonna fuck this tight little ass of yours."

You swallow hard, trying not to dwell on those words for now—you can tell you've loosened up more, tolerating the jab of his fingers, but his cock is substantially larger than those, all too intimidating. Thankfully, it's not hard to remain distracted, to focus only on your approaching peak.

Dabi can feel that orgasm rip through you when it hits, your asshole clenching around his fingers as you keen, and it's then that he reaches the limits of his patience. He needs you now, needs the thrill of burying himself in your tight ass and claiming you for his own, of reaching his own release deep inside and then watching his seed spill out afterwards. What a satisfying sight that will be.

He scrambles up from between your legs to catch your lips with his, fumbling his boxers off as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are bright, needy. "Ready for me?" he asks.

You're not, not really, but you can see the fervor in his eyes, hear the urgency in his voice, and you convince yourself that he won't be able to work you open much more with his fingers no matter what. Your agreement doesn't matter anyway—he's already rolling you onto your side and slotting his chest against your back, his straining erection poking at the cleft between your thighs.

"Like this?" you ask, surprised by the choice of position.

"Just like this," he pants in your ear. His teeth nibble at your lobe as he slicks his cock generously with lube. "Want you spooned against me so I can see those cute faces you make, feel you squirming when you take me."

And fuck, when he slips one hand back down to finger your asshole one last time, it doesn't disappoint—your body ripples against him when that invasion catches you off guard, and he can see the way your lips part obscenely as you gasp at his touch. His fingers abandon your tight hole almost as quickly as they'd entered, and then Dabi is aligning himself with your entrance, using the last of his restraint not to slam his hips forward and bury himself inside with a single thrust.

You can feel the spongy head of his glans, and the slick coolness of the ring that adorns his tip, prodding at your rear. One of his arms worms its way under your side, his hand groping distractedly at your breasts as you tense in anticipation.

"Relax, baby girl," he murmurs, but he doesn't wait for you to even try. He's already slipping in, moving slowly until he encounters resistance an inch or so inside, and then pausing.

He has to struggle to keep his composure. Even like this, with not even the full head of his cock in your ass, his balls are tightening, just the thought of what he's doing nearly enough to send him over the brink. He waits until he's sure that won't happen and then starts moving, pushing insistently to work you open around his length with shallow thrusts.

"A-ah, Dabi, g-go easy," you stutter, already squirming. You can feel your body resisting the intrusion, so much larger than his fingers, and it aches slightly every time he tries to breach that inner ring.

"I am, baby, don't worry. I'll take care of you." His cheek is nuzzling against yours, his lips kissing and sucking wherever he can reach, but his motions don't change at all even as he murmurs so sweetly. He only slings one arm over your hips, toying lazily at your clit. That attention helps you relax, helps distract you a little, but it's not enough to prepare you for when he drives himself in further, finally surging past that taut band of muscle.

The invasion brings a sharp pain, one that has you crying out. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your body reflexively contorting to try and escape the cause of that hurt, but his arms tighten around you, holding you in place as he continues to work himself deeper with every thrust.

"Dabi, that hurts." Your words are sharper this time as each stroke sends another unpleasant throb through your overstretched hole, but his only response is to plunge the fingers rubbing at your clit into your dripping cunt.

"Shh, you're doing great." He curls his fingers, stroking against that spongy spot deep inside. It makes you writhe, but that does nothing to address the pain between your legs as he fucks you.

"Dabi, don't, that's not helping, I—"

"It's okay, baby girl, you're taking me so well," Dabi coos. You'll adjust, he knows you will—you're usually up for anything, of course you can take this. And fuck, there's no way he can stop now, not when it's even better than he'd imagined—hotter and softer, your pillowy walls enveloping his length every time he plunges into you, the exquisite tightness of your entrance massaging his shaft with each thrust.

"I'm not— I don't— I don't want to do this anymore." You can hear the desperate edge in your voice now. Your heart is racing and there's a cold sweat forming on your skin as tears of pain and confusion start to leak down your cheeks. "Dabi, stop."

"Shh, shh, you're fine. You—fuck—you feel so amazing. 'S never been this good with anyone else, fuck."

"I don't care, I don't want this." You can't understand what's happening, why he's not listening. You twist your head to look at him, pleading with your eyes, but he's barely even focusing on you. His blue eyes are glazed and half-lidded as his lips wander over your shoulders and your neck, all the while murmuring those useless reassurances against your skin. You're thrashing now, your feet scrambling for purchase on the sheets as you try frantically to pull away, but he keeps his tight grip on you, one of his legs hooking around your own to hold you in place. "Dabi, I said stop!"

He shushes you again, rutting into you harshly, and a choked sob escapes you when he bottoms out inside you, his hips flush against your backside as you struggle against him. You feel sick to your stomach, and it only worsens when he pulls out until nothing but his tip remains, then drives himself back in with one agonizingly rough thrust.

You keep begging, pleading, wracking your brain and trying every past safe word you can recall, but he only continues to pound into you, his breathing erratic as he pants in your ear. "It's okay, baby. You're taking my cock like such a good girl. You're—ngh—making me feel so good."

The ache between your legs is diminishing slightly as you adjust to his girth, your body entirely unconcerned with whether you want that or not. He's still fingering your sopping cunt too, his palm grinding against your oversensitive clit with each plunge of his long digits, the lewd squelching sound of those attentions mingling with the sharp slap of his hips against your ass as he fucks you.

"You like this?" he asks, but you know he's not really asking. "You like knowing I'm the only one? That I'm making you mine, just mine, just like how it should be?"

"Dabi, stop. Please stop." Your appeals are feeble now, far more for yourself than for him as you continue to utter them between quiet sobs. Dabi's somewhere far away, awash in the tight heat of your ass and the satisfaction of finally staking his claim on you, aware of your supplications but not hearing them, not really.

You slump, still sobbing, and let him take what he wants. His attentions to your cunt have a coil tightening in your gut, but when your climax hits it's perfunctory and mechanical, no real pleasure to be found even as your hips jerk and your holes spasm, a joyless whine passing from your lips.

No real pleasure for you, at least. But fuck, the feel of you squeezing around his cock as you come is what Dabi has been waiting for, your insides massaging his length as though desperate for him to decorate your walls with his cum. It's a gift he's glad to grant—he rocks his hips more urgently, keeping his thrusts shallow now so that he's sure to get it all deep inside.

"Fuck," he groans against your neck. "Gonna make me come, baby girl. That what you want? Want me to fill you up?" You shake your head, but his movements are already growing spurtive and erratic, his grunts louder and throatier, and then you can feel his cock jerking inside you, a hot rush of cum flooding your guts.

Dabi doesn't stop then, either, keeps fucking his seed into you until he's softening, not quite able to work himself in and out of your tight, abused hole any longer, and only then does he finally pull out, a dribble of cum leaking obscenely down your thigh.

You're sniffling, drawing shaky breaths, and you try to pull away the moment his arms relax around you. They only tighten again, his lips planting soft kisses along your temple.

"Shh," he murmurs. The sound of his shushing makes you want to scream. One hand lifts to wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "You were so good, baby girl, there's no need to cry. You were fucking incredible." He means it too, doesn't think he's ever come so hard in his life as he did now, making you his.

Dabi can't wait to do it again.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi #dabi smut #dabi fanfic #fanon dabi #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #bnha fanfic #bnha reader insert #reader insert #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: crying

[navegandoaciegas]

You think Lee would seize the chance when his wife's niece (not his side of the family) comes to visit? He's never met her, since the family moved out of knockemstiff many years ago. I mean, that beautiful, 21-year-old would look magnificent coming around his fat cock right? It's all he can think about, especially since his wife won't touch him anymore. And that perfect young thing is right under his roof.

changed it to friend’s daughter bc i checked and what you asked for is incest by marriage (at least in my country)

Married men do it better

Summary: You heard from your roommate that no one does it better than married men in their 40s, and you decide to test out her theories on your dad’s best friend (smut, explicit language, typos probably)

You looked like shit under the bright mirror lights of the bathroom, drenched in sweat and sleep deprived. The faucet twisted with a squeak, and you relished in the cold water that soothed your burning cheeks, neck and chest.

The night was restless, like most were when you spent them someplace other than your home or your dorm. You’d tossed and turned for hours in the single bed that the Bodeckers have provided you with, in the room that had been designed to be their child’s but had stayed barren. Then you’d gotten up, and tiptoed to the bathroom, careful not to wake Mrs Bodecker next door or your parents in the guest room downstairs.

You splashed more water on you, sighing in satisfaction. Blindly grabbing a towel on the rack next to you, you patted your face dry, standing straight.

And when you opened your eyes, another pair looked back at you in the mirror.

You jumped in suprise, but the scream that threatened to rip out of your throat was silenced by his rough hand clamping shut your mouth. You still bumped against the sink, rattiling the products on it, but luckily none of them fell to the linoleum floor.

Lee Bodecker stood behind you, so close that for a brief moment you wondered how you hadn’t sensed his presence before.

You knew he’d come look for you, for your sweet words and warm body, like he had all nights since you’d stayed at his place. You’d felt bold, that first night, and palmed his cock through his work uniform while your parents and his wife chatted in the kitchen.

It was easy, riling up a man who hadn’t been touched by his wife in years and hadn’t felt affection or sweet nothings whispered in his ears in even longer. And to be honest, he hadn’t put up much of a fight, too enamored with you, a young, sweet thing, all doe eyed and pouty lips.

You’d heard from your roommate that no one did it better than married men in their forties.

Those frat boys you both fooled around with didn’t even come close, and she’d slept with an older gentleman already, and you couldn’t let her be too smug about the fact that you hadn’t.

You’d have to try it too, and tell her all about it when you’d go back to Denver in August.

Until August, though, you’d let Lee Bodecker have his way with you all night, every night.

“Hush, baby girl,” he chuckled in your ear, eyes boring in yours through the mirror, “don’t wanna go wakin’ daddy dearest, hm? He’d kill us both.”

You shook your head, and giggled in his hand, pressing yourself flush against his chest. His belly was soft and pliant on your back, and underneath it you could feel his thick cock, already hard for you.

He groaned, and tightened the grip on your sides. “Already so eager, you little minx.”

“Always eager for you, Sheriff,” you said in the most sensual voice you could muster.

He didn’t look like the boys on the Varsity team, with his chubby cheeks and double chin, but it didn’t matter to you. You liked men in all shapes and forms but something about Lee’s body made your pussy throb, and your thighs clench.

“Good girl,” he mumbled in your hair, nuzzling his face right behind your ear, “Do you want me, hm? You all hot and bothered thinking about my cock all night? Thinkin’bout how I make your pussy cry for me?”

A whimper almost escaped your lips, and you clenched your thighs, memories of all the things he’d done to you flooding your mind. He’d fucked you harsh, and then soft, and then he’s stuck a thumb in your ass, a place where you’d never though about sticking anything in, and then shoved his cock all up your tight rim.

It hadn’t hurt, surprisingly. Much less than losing your virginity with a dumb teen boy underneath the school’s bleachers.

He’d eaten you out like a starved man, had had you ride his face, and then he’d stuck his cock so far down your throat that you’d almost passed out.

You were a wrecked, sobbing, sticky mess after each encounter.

“Please Sheriff, need you inside me, need your big fuckin’ cock in my cunt.”

He smirked, one hand traveling up to your breast, the other roaming down your thigh. “You got a mouth on you, darl’. Dirty little mouth on a dirty little slut like you,” he hummed, smiling against your skin.

His hands were rough and calloused, and they left shivers behind as they grazed you with gentle touches you wouldn’t expect from a man so big and harsh.

He touched you like you were made of the finest china, and sometimes when your mind wasn’t clouded by lust, you felt sorry for him. You pitied him, all alone in a cold house with a distant wife that you suspected was seeing other men behind his back and that made him sleep on the couch most nights.

You closed your eyes, shoving your bleeding heart in a corner of your mind, focusing on how good his hands felt as the pinched your nipples, how pleasant his lips were on your pulse point.

He bunched your drenched nightgown at your waist, growling when he noticed you weren’t wearing any undergarments. He dipped his fingers in your glistening folds, finding you soaked, leaking for him.

“Always so wet for me, princess, all for me?” he whimpered, rubbing his aching cock on your ass, eyes squeezed shut.

“Only for you, Lee,” you whined, hips rolling against his lenght, desperate to feel him inside you, to have him fill you up with his fat cock.

He played with your clit, rubbing circles on it while he crouched around you and sucked one of your nipples in his mouth. You stared at the scene in the mirror, your body twisted around his, your tits spilling out of your nightgown, the golden band around his fourth finger gleaming in the light.

Your pussy clenched hard around nothing.

“Fuck,” you moaned, bucking your hips behind you to rub the flesh of your ass against his raging hard on, “I can’t wait Lee, I need ya inside me, now.”

Lee chuckled, shoving his pyjamas pants down his thighs, his big, leaking cock standing to attention.

“Won’t even lemme taste you, darl’? That eager, hm?”

“Please,” you whined, spreading your legs apart to give him better access.

He teased you, rubbing his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal. He slowly pushed himself past your entrance, stretching you with his girth, sheathing himself inside you with a broken moan.

He stilled, giving you time to adjust as you panted and winced.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ big, I’ll never get used to this,” you breathed, slowly circling your hips.

His cock hit all the right spots inside you, sending jolts of electricity down your spine. You felt the pressure build slow but steady in your cunt, as he slowly dragged his cock in and out of your cunt, relishing in the way your walls gripped him.

He clamped a hand over your mouth, shutting your moans up, and kept hammering his hips against your ass, the slapping of the soft flesh of his belly against your back the only sounds in the room.

He hauled one of your legs over his forearm, spreading you even further for him. He hit a new angle, a new nerve that threatened to break the dam in you core.

He thrusted deep inside you, and you watched from the mirror the slow drag of his cock disappearing in and out of your swollen cunt.

He was sweaty and out of breath and judging from the pained look on his face was trying hard to will back his pleasure and his moans.

One wrong move, one loud sound, and you’d wake someone in the house, who’d come check on you. If they did, they’d Lee pounding into you and you enjoying it like the cockdrunk whore you were.

That’s what he liked to remind you, and you nodded, lost in pleasure, feeling the warmth and pressure in your cunt become unbearable.

“Fuck, I can feel you clamp down on me, princess. Wanna feel you cum baby, come all over my fuckin’ cock, I know you can do it.”

He doubled his efforts, rubbing your clit and pummelling inside you.

The thought that your parents could catch you made you dizzy, but the idea of his wife walking in on you pushed you over the edge.

You were glad for the hand on your mouth as you came, screams muffled. You gushed over the sink, and you both watched through lidded eyes the pressure in your cunt snap, knot unraveling, his cock slipping out of you with your release, just in time for him to paint your legs and the floor with his hot spurt.

You were both spent and satisfied, and you turned around, lazily throwing your arms aroud his neck. The kiss you shared was sweet and sated.

He tasted like lemon drops on your tongue.

You pulled back, adjusting the nightgown over your tits.

“My roommate was right,” you hummed, pecking his lips and brushing past him.

“About?” he questioned, brow quirking.

“Married men really do it better..”

He turned around to say something, anything really, but you were gone already, leaving behind the sweet scent of you hair and an enraptured Lee.

-

Sorry for the typos. I’m writing from my phone.

I hope you liked this. Please reblog and leave some feedback. I love reading your comments, and they’re my biggest motivation ⭐️❤️

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #lee bodecker smut

[forcefullyawake]

This is for @cupcake-rogue’s like a virgin collab!

Denki x F! Reader

Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff, and a suggestive ending. 

Summary: Sometimes the right person runs into you. Literally. Other times it’s a hero who’s not watching where he’s going.

WC: 1.9k

Denki Kaminari doesn’t do being nervous. 

He’s a hero, a pro, top ten. He worked his ass off during UA, his internships, did everything right, shed his jokester ways, and in the first hero rankings he was in? He placed higher thank even Bakugo. He’s impressive, he thinks, tall and blonde, having grown into himself after those first few awkward years. The point is he’s not nervous around women anymore, doesn’t stutter over his words or make inappropriate comments. He’s cool, mature, a catch for any woman. 

Until, that is, he quite literally runs into you.

“I’m fucking late,” Denki announces to nobody- it’s not like anybody stayed over the night before. It’s a true testament to who he is now that his morning routine can be essentially cut in half and almost nothing goes wrong during it. His hero costume is not only easy to get on, but something that works well with his usual wardrobe, so that he can be out the door in under twenty minutes for times like these. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” He mutters to himself, finally getting all the buttons into place right when the elevator opens up to the ground floor. It’s impressive, actually, that he manages to run into you. With a quirk like his, he’s learned to be constantly aware of his surroundings so nobody gets shocked accidentally. Today, however, he’s not thinking straight and runs directly into you, knocking you (and your paperwork) to the ground. 

He stops dead in his tracks, wanting more than anything to start apologizing, helping you pick things up. You know, things any normal person or hero would do but he finds himself stuck in place. You’re… hot, for lack of a better word. He’ll think of some later. He can’t put his finger on it, but there’s something about you that has him immediately bewitched- mind, body, and soul, just like that. You’re standing now, a scowl on your face and- hey you’re snapping your fingers for some reason, maybe he should listen in.

“Hello? Is anybody any there?” Your voice is understandably irritated, looking him up and down quickly before huffing. “Whatever. Watch where you’re going next time, jerk.” You spin away from him, taking his hopes and dreams right with you. But you walk into his apartment building, and through the glass doors that stand between you he sees you walk to the manager- so you’re either gonna live there or work there. Either way he has a second chance. 

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket, and a quick glance tells him it’s Mineta, demanding to know where he is- is he okay? Was there a villain attack? Denki shoots off a quick text saying he’s just overslept before hurrying on his way. 

It’s not until later, when he’s finally in his office, that Denki realizes how he was feeling. 

For the first time, in a very long time, Denki Kaminari was nervous. All because of you.

“Stupid hero, not watching where he was stupidly going,” You mutter under your breathe before plastering on a smile when your new apartment manager steps into view. God, this place is so nice. You can’t wait to move in. You have to dropped off the signed leasing forms and then give the place one last look around before the moving trucks start coming in. 

The meeting goes smoothly, which helps ease whatever leftover tension you have from the morning. The keys are in your hands, the boxes are piling up, and your neighbor is out for the day it looks like so you can play music as loudly as you dare. Your day goes just about as well as a moving day can. You get the important things set up first- bed, tv, coffee maker. The creature comforts for when you’re inevitably exhausted tomorrow. You hear movement in the other apartment, frowning at the shared wall with how clearly you can. Hm, that might be annoying. Still, you don’t plan on turning down the music unless asked. 

Almost like clockwork you hear a knock on your door. You pause to lower the volume to a more acceptable level before opening the door, ready to introduce yourself and apologize, make a good first impression and all that only to see-

“You!” You raise an accusatory finger- at the hero who knocked you over and did nothing this morning. “You can’t be my neighbor!”

“I-” He starts, having the good sense to at least look a little sheepish now. “I’m sorry?” His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his head, making him look even more nervous but you can see his eyes looking over your shoulder to peer into your apartment. 

“Yeah, you should have said that this morning,” It holds less venom than you want, especially when you get distract by the muscles his actions put on display. Huh. Your new neighbor is incredibly built. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “Again, whatever. I turned the music down. Goodnight.” You go to close the door but his voice stops you. 

“Hold on, I wasn’t going to ask you to turn it down,” He starts, finally looking away from your apartment, “I liked it. And maybe you can play it for me now? I could help you put stuff away? Make up for this morning?”

You should say no. You’re already getting tired, you have stuff beyond packing to do tomorrow, and it’s stupid to let a complete stranger into your house. Even if he’s a pro hero. And even if he’s cute. You should tell him to get lost. Instead, you open your mouth to hear yourself say,

“Sure, come on in.”

Denki can’t believe his luck when you open your door a little wider to let him in. 

He was so sure you were going to say no- hell, even you looked a little confused when yes came out of your mouth, but he wasn’t going to question it too much. Your place already looked a lot cozier than his, with decorations half in the boxes, even. You have photos up on the walls already, pictures of people who look like you too and people who look like your friends. His own apartment is pretty sparse, just a place he can sleep and eat in. 

“Could you help me in the kitchen?” Your voice carries through the space, having left him behind. “I have some stuff that need to go onto the top shelf.” He follows blindly, biting down so hard on his lower lip it almost bleed when he sees you. You’re not doing anything scandalous, just putting dishes away but the way your arms are raised over your head have given him a glimpse at your skin where your shirt has ridden up. He can feel the blood rush south in his body, embarrassingly. 

“Stop ogling and start helping,” You snap over your shoulder, frowning at him. That snaps him out of his daze, not wanting to leave too soon despite having another early morning shift. He grabs the box you point at, and starts to place the mugs on the top shelf. They look like gifts, he thinks, all of them printed with far too many places for one person to have visited. 

“Your friends get you these?” He asks, trying to sound casually interested, not too desperate, “Or a boyfriend?” You snort at him.

“Friends, mostly, and some family,” You wait a long moment before continuing, “No boyfriends, though.” Denki internally heaves a sigh of relief. 

“I don’t get out much, with my job. But I like to pretend I do,” You say, eyeing the mugs wistfully. “How about you? You travel a lot?”

“That requires taking time off,” Denki says, frowning a little as he tries to remember his last actually relaxing day off. “But you know what they say- if you love your job, you’ll never work a day in your life!”

“Oh, bullshit,” You snort out, abandoning the box you’ve been unpacking all together. “I love my job, a lot, but I have worked some days.” The tension is broken after that, with Denki asking you to elaborate and you trying to play coy until the rants just burst out of you. It’s not until your stomach gives a loud grumble that you realize neither of you have been unpacking but just talking for the past hour and a half. 

It’s just late enough that a normal dinner is out of the question, but maybe you could order something in?

“I know a good ramen place that delivers here,” Denki volunteers, grinning sheepishly. 

“Are you sure your quirk isn’t mind reading?” You tease him, just to watch him laugh. He’s pretty hot when he laughs, you think, then immediately try to squash the thought. Dinner first, crushing on a hero later.

Dinner is ordered.

Denki’s right, the ramen is good and it comes quick. The two of you slurp your soup in silence, the awkwardness returning from before. Denki seems almost unable to look at you now, for some reason. He focuses in so hard on his bowl you’re surprised it doesn’t go up in smoke. You want to ask him about it but you can’t figure out how to phrase the question. 

For his part, Denki is having an internal meltdown. When you lean forward to take a sip of the broth your shirt pulls forward just enough that he can see the swell of your breasts. It shouldn’t affect him this much, he’s been around enough, but there’s something about the white of your bra that makes his head spin, makes him feel like a virgin all over again. 

“Are you okay?” You ask him the same moment he blurts out-

“I can see your bra, I’m sorry, don’t kick me out,” All in one breath. You’re silent for a moment, and then another, and another, and Denki regrets every choice he’s made in his life until now that brought him here. You keep not saying anything and a million and one scenarios run through his head, each one worse than the next. Oh my god, what if you tell people? He’ll be known as the pervert hero, he won’t be able to work in Japan anymore, he’ll have to someplace like America or-

“Would you like to see more of it?” Your voice is soft, shy as your hands twist in the bottom of your shirt, looking at him with wide eyes. He’s sure he’s misheard you because there’s no way you’re offering what he thinks you are. 

“More?” He manages to croak out. You don’t reply, but your shirt keeps going upwards. Your shirt continues upwards until it’s off of you and Denki’s brain has finally, truly short circuited. 

You’re not sure what’s possessing you to be so bold- maybe the conversation, maybe the way the food has made you comfortably warm and a little drowsy, maybe you just wanna see what he’ll do next. It’s cute, endearing even, how his eyes can’t figure out where to look. He can’t decide if he wants to throw himself at you or away from you. 

“More,” You agree, moving closer to him on the couch, taking the bowl from his hands to set on the table in front of you. Denki stops breathing as you move even closer to him, your face swimming in front of his eyes. “Tell me if I should stop?”

“Never,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours, tasting like a promise, sending a shiver down your spine. It’s so easy to fall into him, like you’ve known him forever, like this is as easy as breathing. 

It’s sunrise, somehow. Denki is still there, blissfully unaware as you watch him sleep. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t watch where he was going the previous morning. 

Now, though, you wouldn’t mind running into him again. 

#denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #denki x female reader #denki fluff #denki kaminari fluff

[theasstour]

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐈𝐝𝐞𝐚.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟎.𝟑𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

Tuesday, 16 January 2018

When Y/N perched her glasses on her nose the next morning, about to get out of bed, she heard the door next to hers open. What had started out as a decent morning was now tainted by last night’s chat with Harry in her room. She flopped down onto her bed, looking up at her ceiling as everything dawned on her again. Harry asked her to be his fuck buddy so she could make him become more comfortable in bed, and in return she would get free tattoos. They would have sex and Harry would get better with more experience, and once he felt ready to, he would pursue others again. That was the deal.

Y/N wanted to have sex with Harry, she had admitted that to herself, but if he wasn’t any good in bed… was it even worth it? Some men just didn’t know how to please anyone in bed, what if he was a lost cause? She knew Harry, he wouldn’t have asked her if he wasn’t truly insecure about his performance in bed. It just felt like such an odd favour to be asking someone. Did he even find her attractive? Or did he just ask her because he knew she’d tell him like it is if he fucked up? Or because they had sex before and it was just easiest to ask her?

She heard something against her carpeted floor, a quiet sound she would not have heard if she hadn’t closed her windows at 4am because of a drunken gang of men making their way home from the pub. Sitting up in bed, she looked at her floor, not seeing anything until her eyes landed on the small slit between her floor and the door. A note.

She got up from her bed, reaching for the dressing gown that hung over her desk chair. She reached for it as she heard footsteps away from her door, hearing them leave down the stairs and to the kitchen. Though it had been years since she had seen or read his writing, it still felt as familiar to her as the inside of her home in Nottingham.

I’m sorry about last night, can we talk? H x

Right now, she wanted nothing less than to talk to Harry. But, taking a look at her phone, she recognised the date, saw a text from Chloe, and knew that avoiding Harry would be next to impossible. In about two hours, Chloe would come to their flat on Orsman Road so Mason and Harry could show her how to play the PlayStation. It would look stupid if Y/N wasn’t in the room with them, keeping them company. After all, she was the one that had made this meeting happen, the tie that linked Chloe to Mason and Harry in the first place. Who knew how awkward it would be if she wasn’t there.

She got her dressing gown off, put on some knickers and a bra, then rummaged through her drawers for something to wear. She settled on a black pleated mini skirt with fishnets underneath – along with shorts to keep the chafing away – and an oversized long-sleeve jumper in acid wash black and grey. The print on it was of Back to the Future, one of the only films Y/N managed to sit through. She didn’t have the attention span to sit for hours on end to watch a film, she much preferred series where she could just watch an episode and then pause. She didn’t have the attention span for films.

Tucking the front of the jumper into her skirt, Y/N studied herself in her mirror, smiling at the image. Today might bring on some very awkward moments, but at least she would look good.

She walked over to her door, putting her ear against it to listen for movements downstairs. Last thing she wanted to do was make herself some breakfast while Harry was watching her like a hawk, trying to read her mind to figure out what she was thinking. He was one of the most impatient people she knew, always eager to get on with whatever he wanted to do, always wanting an answer right away. Though she knew having sex with Harry, directing him, and giving him more confidence in the bedroom wouldn’t be a chore, it would probably be a lot of fun. What was stopping her was that, if she wanted to have sex, she expected to have good sex. Especially if she were going to have sex with this person multiple times. If this happened, she just had to hope Harry took her seriously and did what he could to better his lack of giving properly in bed.

She looked down at the note in her hand, reading it over again as she heard the front door downstairs open and then close again. Knowing that Mason would wake up five minutes before Chloe arrived and that Nathan would likely sing along to What is This Feeling? from Wicked on his way downstairs, the person that just left had to be Harry. Y/N therefore made her way downstairs and made her breakfast, quickly walking back upstairs so she could eat her breakfast in peace. While listening to Duda Beat, Y/N sat in her bed eating, wiggling her toes in her fishnets, drifting to a place far away from the flat in Hackney.

Music was a huge part of Y/N’s life, always had been. It felt weird if her room was silent or if she was walking someplace on her own without the company of an artist singing into her ears. Nathan would often get annoyed with her about how many songs she already knew when he just found them, or how she always managed to know the songs playing at all the clubs they were at. Music was one of the things she truly treasured in life, something that made her feel safe if the world around her was too quiet or too loud.

While deep in her own thoughts, Y/N didn’t hear the front door open and closing again. She thought she heard some whistling out in the corridor, but didn’t pay much attention to it until there was a knocking at someone else’s door. Just barely, she turned her music down to listen to what was going on.

“Mase?” Harry said, knocking again. “You up, mate?”

Mason must have answered somehow because Harry opened his door and walked in. She didn’t hear what happened next, just some muffled talking as Harry stood inside a still sleepy Mason’s room. Harry’s small laughter at something Mason said emanated from the room, and two seconds later, he was closing the door and walking over to the room opposite to Mason’s, knocking three times on there as well.

“Nath?”

“Come in, best friend!” Nathan sang and Harry opened the door not even a second later.

“Hiya, thought you’d need this one,” Harry said, Y/N could hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, you absolute lifesaver,” Nathan said, gasping a little as he took whatever Harry was offering him.

“First week back at uni, thought it’d lighten the mood.”

“Harry, you’re a dream,” Nathan complimented, making Y/N roll her eyes. That compliment would easily get to Harry’s head and he’d be all cocky the rest of the day.

“I know, but thanks for the reminder,” Harry said, steps could be heard next.

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Nathan commented, and Y/N knew they were talking about her. The door to Nathan’s room closed.

Next thing Y/N knew, three knocks sounded at her door. She stilled, mid-chew. Looking at her door, she suddenly started searching around her as if anything inside her room would help her escape the inevitable awkward moment that was about to ensue.

“Y/N?” Harry said, knocking again.

She got up from her bed, carefully putting her plate down on her desk as she continued to look around her room. Nothing could save her, so at least her room had to look somewhat presentable.

“Y/N, I know you’re up. I can hear your music.”

Running a hand over her make-up free face, Y/N walked over to her door. She opened it, seeing Harry leaned against her doorframe on the other side, the nearness of him making her take a small step backward. He was wearing a brown knitted oversized rib jumper over loose black jeans, a pair of black leather shoes with a chunky sole that he had forgotten to take off at the front door along with his black cord double breasted trench coat. The outfit was cosy and so effortlessly attractive in a soft sort of way. Admitting that to herself made Y/N infuriated. This man was only getting harder to resist by the second.

Y/N was too caught up in Harry’s outfit to see what he was holding. Once he saw her, he did the same as her, eyes scanning her entire body to take her in properly. His eyes lingered on her legs where her bare skin was exposed through her fishnets. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he cleared his throat as he stood upright again, a slight redness appearing in his cheeks.

“Thirsty?” he asked.

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, but then she caught sight of what was in his hands. A cup carrier where two out of four coffees were taken, two left. One for Harry, one for Y/N. There was a normal hot-drink cup and a plastic cup for cold drinks.

“Iced latte, right?” Harry asked, holding the carrier out for Y/N to take her coffee. “That’s what you had when you popped by Footprint, at least.”

Y/N blinked. “How’d you know?”

Harry shrugged, giving her a smile.

Y/N took the iced latte, recognising that it was a different cup to the ones you normally got at Starbucks, Costa, or Caffé Nero. No, this was from one of those smaller cafés that he liked popping by. She was sure she would like it regardless, maybe even prefer it to the chain stores.

“Thank you,” she said, taken aback by Harry’s gesture. He had really gone out of his way to buy the entire flat a morning coffee.

“I owed you one,” Harry smiled.

“Yes, you did,” Y/N said, but the both of them could tell she didn’t mean it one bit. Silence settled over them, Y/N kept her eyes on the coffee as she felt Harry glance at her, not willing her to look up but just trying to find his words as if there was something he wanted to say, but didn’t know how to. Slowly, she glanced back up at him through her lashes, looking between his eyes as his lips parted.

“Did you get my note?”

Y/N felt her heart leap out of her chest. “Yes.”

“Can we? Talk?”

“Yes, but I’m… I need to eat my breakfast.”

“Oh, okay. Send me a text-“

“-Thank you so much for the coffee, Harry. Truly.” And then she closed her door, standing there with one hand on the doorknob and the other holding the iced latte Harry had just given her. It took a few seconds before she could hear Harry making his way back downstairs, most likely to take his coat and boots off, and maybe to make himself something to eat if he hadn’t done exactly that at the café he had just been to. The door to Mason’s room opened and Y/N heard him yawn as he started down the stairs, greeting Harry in his usual rumbling voice.

Y/N sat back down on her bed, looking down on the iced latte in her hands. It meant nothing. He had done the exact same thing for Mason and Nathan. But… something about someone going out of their way to buy you a coffee without you even needing to ask for it, was a level of intimate Y/N wasn’t sure she had reached with anyone before. This just told her that he cared for her; cared for her like he would care for Mason and Nathan. That thought warmed Y/N, and she was left just looking at the iced latte for another minute or two before she actually brought it up to her lips to drink it. She had been right before, she liked this one much better than the one she usually got at Costa.

An hour or two later, Chloe sent Y/N a text to tell her she was on her way, and 30 minutes after that, the doorbell rang. Y/N opened the door to her room and walked down the stairs just as Harry stood in the doorway of his room, watching Y/N fly past him to get to the door. As curious as she was to peek inside Harry’s room, she would have to do that another time.

“Hello?” Y/N said into the phone.

“Hiya, babe,” Chloe called on the other end, sounding as chipper as always.

“Walk up the steps, it’s the first door on the right,” Y/N explained before buzzing Chloe in. To make it easier, Y/N opened the door and waited there for her mate in the doorway, even though the cold air from the outside corridor seeped into the flat and made goosebumps appear up and down her exposed legs.

“Hi,” Chloe grinned as she walked up the steps, hugging Y/N once she reached the flat. “And hello, Harry, you alright?”

Y/N whipped around to see Harry standing there, leaning against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. His hands were shoved into his jean pockets and a wry smile came across his lips, nodding at Chloe as she made her way inside.

“Ready to play some PlayStation?” he asked.

“Oh, more than ready,” Chloe grinned, taking her jacket off and hanging it on Y/N’s hanger. “I’m so tired of everyone playing the PlayStation in my flat and when I ask if they can show me how to play, they say they can’t be asked.” She rolled her eyes. “So, I’m very thankful for you and Mason.”

“Think Mason’s gonna be the main lecturer of this one,” Harry said. “I’m not nearly as good as he is.”

“I hope he’s a good teacher, then.”

“Only time will show,” Mason said as he came downstairs, wearing a pair of rugby shorts and a zip-up hoodie. “Alright?” he asked, leading the way into the living room.

“Splendid now,” Chloe grinned, following Mason into the living room. As she walked past Harry, Harry’s eyes fell on Y/N who stood put, trying to ignore the intensity of Harry’s glance. She knew he wanted to say something so she walked straight past him and after the other’s, not wishing to take the discussion Harry so clearly wanted to take at that very moment. Y/N sat down by the round dining table, expecting Harry to take the seat next to hers. For some reason, that made her sweat. She was suddenly nervous for some reason.

“Harry,” Chloe chimed. “You need to sit beside me in case Mason confuses me.”

“I’m not gonna confuse you,” Mason said.

“No, but in case I need another explanation for things, you know,” Chloe explained, smiling over at Harry. Y/N could sense Harry’s gaze on her, and then the free chair beside her, before he met Chloe’s eyes again.

“Alright,” he said, walking over to sit down on the couch to Chloe’s right, the closest of the three to Y/N who sat alone by the dining table. Mason turned the telly on and then started getting the PlayStation going, giving Chloe a console while he brought his own as he sat down beside her. Chloe’s eyes instantly fell to Mason’s bare thigh, meeting Y/N’s eyes with a smirk before she focused on the television in front of her.

“Y/N,” Harry said, scooting a little to the side. “You can come sit here, if you’d like. You could game with us.”

“No, I’m alright.”

Harry put his hand on the sofa. “If you-“

“-Hello, whores,” Nathan said as he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen in his purple kimono. The white and orange lilies on it glinted in the pale sunbeams that shone through the living room window. He took the free chair beside Y/N and brought it over to the window, plopped do in it while whipping his phone out from somewhere. Harry sat back in the spot he reserved for Y/N, looking over at her as he sat back against the couch, placing his arm on the arm rest. Y/N’s eyes instantly fell onto his hand and the veins that ran from his knuckles to his wrist, studying the way he balled his hand into a fist before he stretched his fingers. She felt herself salivate. Mentally punching herself out of her trance, Y/N swallowed and looked away from Harry. He must have noticed her staring.

“Oh, I love that, Nate,” Chloe grinned.

“Aw, thanks, darling,” he said, and Y/N could see how greatly he appreciated the compliment. After all, the people he lived with rarely gave him any of them.

“Is this just a normal morning for you lot?” Chloe asked, looking around at all of them.

“I mean,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. “Don’t think we have a status quo or anything. Anything’s normal if nothing’s odd.”

“Wow,” Nathan said. “Ground-breaking.”

Chloe laughed. “Aw, I wished I lived in your flat. This seems like so much fun compared to my one in minging Dinwiddy.”

“Have you, Thian, and Hayden started looking for places?” Y/N asked.

“Thian’s found a flat, but it’s all the way in Brixton.” She grimaced. “That’s ages away, even by tube.”

“We found this place in December our first year,” Nathan said. “Harry’s mum knew someone who knew someone, and here we are. Pretty decent for London, even though it’s cramped.”

“Yeah, I want all the credit for this,” Harry grinned, looking as smug as always. “I’m the best.”

“That’s subjective,” Y/N scoffed, making Harry look over at her and Chloe laugh again. She felt Harry’s gaze linger on her, but she refused to look back at him, knowing that it would be hard to glance away.

“Alright, Chloe,” Mason started. “We’ll play GTA, is that alright? It’s what we usually play.”

“Anything’s fine by me,” Chloe said.

For some reason, Y/N’s brain forgot what she had just told herself a few seconds prior, because her eyes locked with Harry’s, and suddenly her heart was doing something funny. It halted for a second, then began back up again. Last night’s conversation played in Y/N’s head as well as the note he had left under her door before he went out for breakfast that morning. The proposal had not left her alone for a single second, she was sure she had dreamt of it but didn’t remember the exact dream just then.

Looking away, her eyes landed on the telly before she glanced over at Nathan who sat with one foot slung over the other. His gaze was already on Y/N, a slight crease between his brows as he scanned Harry for two seconds, then back at Y/N again. She quickly looked away, pretending like nothing was happening, as if she hadn’t just been sharing a little-too-long look with Harry that obviously meant something. In the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Nathan leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knee with his phone in one hand, looking between Harry and Y/N with an almost knowing look that brought Y/N’s pulse up dangerously high. Mason was too busy teaching Chloe about the PlayStation and Chloe was too distracted by both Mason and Harry to even recognise something was going on beyond the couch they were sat on.

Y/N did not spare another look at Harry even though she could feel him staring at her, chewing on his bottom lip and clearly wanting her to glance back at him. Y/N knew Nathan was staring between them, trying to piece together what was going on, and she was not going to give him the satisfaction of finding out on his own. First she wanted to do that herself, to figure out what was going on and how they would go forth without Nathan putting his nose in business that was not his to meddle in. Y/N had a hard time breathing under Harry’s stare and Nathan making up conspiracy theories right across from her while Chloe and Mason were shooting and killing people on the telly. This was going to be a long morning.

Friday, 18 January 2018

The first Critical Reading 2 lecture of the semester had been slow. Their professor, Yvonne, had stood at the front of the lecture hall with her hands behind her back, walking up and down in front of her PowerPoint that was displayed on the wall behind her, and talked about The Yellow Wallpaper. In her mid-40s, her dark hair came to her shoulders and her ordinary green jumper over blue jeans, made her look like anyone else. Maybe that was why Y/N liked her lectures so much; she was just an ordinary woman. Chloe had fallen asleep during the lecture, resting her head on Annalise’s shoulder, while Hayden had been texting a bloke on Tinder, and only Thian and Y/N were paying any proper attention out of the five of them. Maybe the three others didn’t find this fascinating, but Y/N certainly did.

“Women were expected to be subordinate to their husbands and completely obedient, as well as take on strictly domestic roles inside the home,” Yvonne said at the front of the lecture hall. “Upper middle-class women, like the narrator, may go for long periods of time without even leaving the home. The story reveals that this arrangement had the effect of committing women to a state of naïveté, dependence, and ignorance.”

Y/N wrote down keywords in her notebook.

“John, the narrator’s husband, assumes he has the right to determine what’s best for his wife, and this authority is never questioned. He belittles her concerns, both concrete and the ones that arise as a result of her depression, and is said to brush her off and laugh at her when she speaks. He makes all the decisions about both of their lives.”

Y/N glanced up at Yvonne again.

“As such, she has no say in anything in her life, including her own health, and finds herself unable to even protest. The author, Charlotte Perkins Gilman, like many others, clearly disagreed with this state of things, and aimed to show the detrimental effect that came to women as a result of their lack of autonomy.”

Yvonne walked over to the computer, changing the slide of her PowerPoint and taking a moment to look up at it before she turned to the lecture hall again. It was just a picture of some old, decaying yellow wallpaper.

“The yellow wallpaper,” she started, clapping her hands together. “This is, of course, the most important symbol in the story. The narrator is immediately fascinated and disgusted by the yellow wallpaper, and her understanding and interpretation fluctuates and intensifies throughout the story.”

Thian flipped through the Norton Anthology that he had brought, finger skimming over The Yellow Wallpaper that was printed out on the page he had put an orange sticky note to so he could find and come back to it.

“The narrator, because she doesn’t have anything else to think about or other mental stimulation, being kept in that attic by her husband, turns to the yellow wallpaper as something to analyse and interpret. The pattern eventually comes into focus as bars, and then she sees a woman inside the pattern. This represents feeling trapped, as you may have already figured out.” Yvonne put her hands out as she continued to speak. “At the end of the story, the narrator believes that the woman has come out of the wallpaper. This indicates that the narrator has finally merged fully into her psychosis, and become one with the house and domesticated disconnect. She has become a mad woman.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, putting her pen down as she turned all her attention on Yvonne. Something about those last three words made her ears perk up.

“In Gothic literature, the mad woman hails from the dark side of Jane Eyre. Mr Rochester’s first wife, who barely appears in the text, but pops up only to terrify sweet Jane. The first wife is violently insane, and is kept away from the world, the badge of shame in Rochester’s life,” Yvonne said. “Her irrational behaviour somehow justifies him almost becoming a polygamist when he attempts to marry Jane. Only after Bertha, his mad wife, literally burns Rochester’s estate to the ground, dying in the process, are the lovebirds free to pursue their happy ending. Mad women are so inconvenient while they’re still alive.”

After the lecture, Y/N walked to her next seminar by herself. Chloe and Annalise were in a seminar together, while Thian and Hayden were in another one. On one hand, Y/N was lucky to be part of the seminar right after the lecture, which meant she could go do whatever she pleased afterwards without waiting around to be in the second seminar group, but on another hand, she wanted to be with her friends. That was all she managed to think about as she made her way down the corridor, walking past a horde of other students that were on their way to their lectures and seminars.

The corridors were of white concrete, the walls in between doors to lecture halls, seminar rooms, or exits to the either one of the quads either decorated with paintings of previous headmasters or headmistresses, or brochures or papers about different societies or sports events. In the past, there had been pictures up on the walls of old prime ministers, but the frames had always been taken down by students, or some wrote on the glass that protected the paintings, all kinds of vile words that had, in the end, resulted in the paintings being taken down, much to the students’ delight. The paintings of Winston Churchill and Margaret Thatcher had been the ones to endure the worst of it, something Y/N wished she could have contributed with.

The ceiling high above was adorned with blue squares, lamps hanging down from some of them, while others were decorated in fine details that Y/N with her shitty eyesight couldn’t make out. The walks from the lecture hall 19 to seminar room 0-07 took about five minutes. She walked from seeing the North Quad out the windows to her left, to seeing the corridor that connected the two sides of the buildings together at the middle, to seeing the South Quad outside. Y/N hated summer, but she couldn’t wait for spring to arrive so she could spend her time between lectures and seminars outside in either one of the quads.

Y/N walked straight in when she arrived at seminar room 0-07. The seminar room was rather modern, with white walls, white ceiling, and grey carpeted floor, a blackboard hung on one wall, and a big round table in the middle of the room for everyone to be seated around. The chairs were a bright green, and the cushions that came with them matched, something that was supposed to brighten the room, but the chairs themselves were horrible to sit in. Especially for hours on end. Yvonne was already there, giving Y/N a broad smile and urging her to sit down with a warm, “welcome,” that made Y/N absolutely want to take a seat. However, as she made her way over to the table the ten people in the seminar group would be sitting around, Y/N’s eyes fell on a familiar face.

“Isla,” Y/N said, making the girl with the brown bushy hair who had her nose buried deep in the Norton Anthology in front of her, look up rather quickly at the sound of her name. An instant and warm feeling spread out from Y/N’s belly and all throughout her body, making her tingle with pure happiness.

“Y/N,” Isla said back, sitting up straighter.

Y/N let go of a slight chuckle before she walked over, sitting down beside her work friend. “I didn’t know you did English Lit.”

“I do.”

“I’ve never seen you in any of our lectures,” Y/N said.

“No, I’m usually in the very back or by one of the walls,” Isla explained. “I guess I just blend in with my surroundings.”

“Like a chameleon,” Y/N smiled, putting her notebook and Norton Anthology down on the table as well. “This is so bizarre. I didn’t know you even went to Helmond.”

“I’ve seen you at the front of the lectures with your friends, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Oh, hun, you could never disturb me,” Y/N assured, wanting to give Isla’s shoulder a squeeze but unsure if her mate would appreciate that touch or not. “This made my day. I’ve had a… week, to put it that way, and this just made my day.”

Isla smiled, looking back down at the book in front of her.

“How’d you find the lecture?” Y/N asked.

“It was interesting. I really liked The Yellow Wallpaper, so it was easy to follow along,” Isla answered as another student entered the seminar room, two others following right after.

“Right? I love anything gothic.”

“No wonder, all you wear is black.”

Y/N gasped, putting a hand to her chest as her eyes grew wide, a grin appearing on her face before she laughed. Isla’s own face broke out into a smile before her neck grew red, she must have been anxious of how Y/N would react to her taking the piss. Trying not to make too much noise so the few people who had showed up so far wouldn’t stare at them like they were mad, the two girls put their hands in front of their mouths to stifle their laughter.

“You damn near chopped my head off, right there. Oh, my word,” Y/N laughed, Isla laughing with her. “Black is a good colour to wear. It’s an anonymous colour.”

“For someone so extroverted, it’s interesting that you want to remain somewhat anonymous,” Isla noted.

Y/N shrugged. “It’s become a habit.”

Isla furrowed her brows at that.

“Hey, are you doing anything later tonight?” Y/N asked.

Isla brought her pen up to her chin, tapping it a few times against her chin dimple. “That depends.”

Y/N smiled. “Would you want to come to this Uno Society that my mate’s hosting?”

The second the words were out of Y/N’s mouth, she could see a sort of light die out in Isla’s eyes. Though she already knew the answer, she was disappointed when Isla uttered a small, “I’ve got plans, I think.”

The words hadn’t been voiced, but they both knew Isla was lying. Y/N did not mind, though. She knew that some people’s social batteries only lasted so long, and that this might be enough socialising for Isla to last her a whole week, so she did not press the issue and Isla again. If coming to the Uno Society was something outside of Isla’s comfort zone, then Y/N would not pressure her into coming.

“That’s fine,” Y/N said, giving Isla a smile. “When’re you working next?”

Isla seemed grateful for the change in conversation topic, but just before she got to answer, Yvonne sat down by the table, looking around at each one of the students that were sat in each seat. She opened her notes, clearing her throat so that all the small chatter around the table would die out completely.

“The mad woman,” Yvonne started, smiling as she made eye contact with a few of her students. “Where does the madness come from? Is it already present in the character from birth? Or does it develop, or at least intensify, due to isolation imposed by men?” she asked, looking around the table at the students surrounding it. “Anyone?”

1 Night by Charli XCX and Mura Masa played over the speakers as Y/N walked through the door and into another seminar room later that same day. She mouthed an excuse at Hayden before she glanced around, looking for someplace to sit down. Her original table was already occupied by just enough people so she would have to find another group to join this time around. The idea of disturbing someone in the middle of a game wasn’t appealing, it was frankly something that made her heart beat a little too fast. But, Y/N knew she had to do it unless she just wanted to stand around and look like a proper twit. So, after a quick sweep of the room, Y/N settled on the table in the far corner. She walked over to it, quickly realising that she knew a few of those seated around it.

“Hi,” Y/N smiled as she came over, taking the seat next to Mason.

“Oh,” he smiled back. “Alright?”

“Can I join your next round?” she asked, looking from Mason, to Kai, to the other three men seated around the table.

“Yeah, of course,” Mason said. “Just be patient, not too long since we started this one.”

“Of course,” Y/N smiled, sitting back in her chair and taking another quick look around the room. Studying each person on each table.

“Why’re you late, then?” Mason asked, nudging Y/N so she would know he was talking to her.

“Made some feijão tropeiro for dinner, had a nap, woke up ten minutes before I had to be here ‘cause my alarm didn’t go off. Phone’s dead,” Y/N explained. “Took the tube, but you know how all public transit’s always so slow when you need it to hurry along.”

Mason smiled. “Feels like that, doesn’t it?”

“Yet to see you at The Stag’s Head again, Y/N,” Kai said, grinning from ear to ear.

“She’s not as keen on a pint as I usually am,” Mason retorted.

“No, just haven’t had the time. I’ll have to pop by sometime soon.”

“Yeah, tag along with Mase, Nath, and H,” Kai continued. “H told me your fave cocktail’s Sex on the Beach. I’ll make you that if you’re not too keen on a pint. Actually,” Kai grinned, holding his hand out. “I might be the best bartender you’ll ever meet. My hands – these guys –“ He held up his other hand as well. “-Are the hands of God.”

“Pack it up, dicksplat,” Mason said, motioning for Kai to continue his round.

Kai howled, his laughter booming through the seminar room. Though deep and rumbling, Kai’s laughter was infectious and Y/N found herself smiling at him as he came down from his high, shaking his head and looking down at his cards. He dealt his round, glancing back over at Y/N.

“Did you know Mason’s funny?” Kai asked. “Mason, you can be funny sometimes.”

“You say that as if it shocks you. You literally laugh at me every single day.”

“Someone needs to laugh at you or else you’d cry yourself to sleep.”

Mason laughed at Kai, glancing down at his cards to focus on them for now. Y/N took this moment to look around her again, studying each face at each table.

“He’s not here,” Mason said, making Y/N’s head whip around in his direction.

“What?”

“Harry,” he elaborated. “He’s not here.”

Y/N furrowed her brows, crossing her arms over her chest as she watched Mason play for another moment. “I wasn’t looking for him.”

“It’s okay if you were.”

“It’d be weird if I was.”

“What’s going on with you and Harry?” Kai asked, a slight lift to his bushy brows as his eyes darted between Y/N and Mason.

“Absolutely nothing,” Y/N answered, hoping they didn’t notice her lying in the way she refused to meet their eyes. “I simply started thinking about him and thought I’d see if he was here.”

“So, you were checking to see if he was here,” Mason smirked.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Men are so annoying.”

“Is something going on?” Kai asked again.

“You know, I could’ve just told you where he is right off the bat if you had just asked me about him,” Mason said.

“I don’t care where he is.”

“Are you and Harry a thing?” Kai asked for the millionth time.

“You’re nosier than Harry,” Y/N retorted, rolling her eyes at Kai who only laughed again. She met Mason’s eyes. “I don’t care where he is.”

Mason grinned. “He’s at work.”

Of fucking course he is, Y/N thought to herself, looking away from Mason again as his smirk widened. Y/N zoned out as the boys around the table continued to play Uno, only sometimes participating in whatever was going on when one of them shouted something or they laughed. Her thoughts were only on the proposal Harry had come with, one that intrigued Y/N more and more with each passing day. It had been four days since he asked her to help him get confident in bed and in return he would give her free tattoos.

Free tattoos. If she was getting free tattoos and good sex in the end, then the deal seemed pretty decent. After all, there were quite a few tattoos she wanted, most of them being those that Marcela had on her body, and then numerous she wanted to get herself. If she actually went through with this, then she was going to milk it for what it was worth. She was going to be proper tattooed up, looking so hot that it would be hard for her to keep her hands off herself.

It didn’t take too long until they were about to start another round, so Y/N joined in, playing until they were done a little over an hour later. When it’s time for them to pack up, Y/N walked over to her mates to apologise for coming in a bit late, something Hayden did not mind in the slightest. While that was happening, Nathan, Mase, and Kai were chatting by the exit door, waiting for Y/N to catch up so they could start on their way back to the flat and The Stag’s Head. In between talking to her friends, Y/N glanced over at them to make sure they hadn’t left yet, and at one point, she saw Nathan shake his head and raised his brows at Mason who only nodded his head in affirmation of what he had just said. Nathan looked back over at Y/N who only frowned at him, unsure what he was trying to tell her.

The walk back to the flat was slow, Mason stopping by a chippy on the way so he could get himself some dinner. He insisted on stopping if he wanted to get a proper bite in of his fish or chips, something that ultimately made Kai late for his shift at Stag’s Head. Mason was chill about it as always, reassuring Kai that his boss wouldn’t mind, he hadn’t shoved Harry’s head through a wall when he came in late while he worked there, he would surely not do that to Kai.

“Look at the size of ya,” Mason reasoned, only making Kai laugh, though Y/N could sense the muscle man was too stressed to put his entire heart into it.

The entire way back to Orsman Street, Nathan barely said a word. To Y/N, at least. He did not mind talking to Kai or Mason, but he hadn’t paid Y/N as much attention as he usually did, something that made her draw the conclusion that something was up. She didn’t try to press him about it while they were walking, not wanting to do it in front of the two others who obviously had nothing to do with this.

They said goodbye once they reached the flat, watching as Kai ran into The Stag’s Head and through the crowd of people that had already gathered in the pub. Y/N pulled her phone out of her purse, wanting to check the time, only to remember again that it had died earlier and she had forgotten to charge it afterwards. She would just have to charge it when she got to her room.

Mason opened the doors for everyone, taking his shoes off while still eating his fish and chips, strolling up to his room to finish it in there before probably having a shower. Y/N followed first after him, Nathan quick on her heels and, for some odd reason, breathing down her neck. She glanced over her shoulder at him, giving him a glare before she continued on her way up the stairs, but Nathan only glared back at her, walking just as close behind her as he had done since they got back to the flat.

Y/N opened the door to her room, sitting down by her desk and putting her phone down to charge as Nathan slammed his hands against the frames on either side of her door. Y/N jumped, looking over at Nathan whose expression looked absolutely manic.

“Right,” he started, looking over his shoulder to make sure the door to Mason’s room was closed before he glanced back at Y/N. In the meantime, she opened her laptop, keeping her eyes on Nathan. “I’ve been keeping my mouth shut about this for too long.”

She blinked. “What’s up?”

“What is going on with you and Harry?” Nathan hissed, brown eyes boring into Y/N’s soul.

She just blinked some more, staring at Nathan while she put two and two together. Mason must have snitched; he must have told Nathan while they were talking after Uno that Y/N had been looking after Harry. With that information and the staring – on Harry’s part – earlier that week, Nathan had put two and two together. That was why he was fuming and hadn’t bothered to give Y/N any sort of attention on their way back from uni.

“’Cause I can tell something’s been up. First he won’t stop staring at you when Chloe’s over, and now you go asking around about him at Uno.”

“I didn’t go asking around,” Y/N said, narrowing her eyes at him.

“You must really think I’m stupid,” Nathan retorted, raising his eyebrows at her, bobbing his head along as he spoke, something he usually did when he tried to get a point across.

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She started shaking her leg.

“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. What’s happened between you and Harry?”

“Nothing, Nath. We’re just friends.”

Nathan scoffed. “That’s the most rubbish thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Weird when that’s the truth.”

“I know something’s up,” he said, pointing a threatening finger at her.

Y/N sighed just as something like the terrace door banging shut sounded from downstairs. “Listen, you forced me to live with him. I’m just making the best of the situation you’ve put me in. I’m just making nice.”

“By sucking his dick?”

“That’s derogatory, Nathan.”

Nathan bowed his head lower, eye almost twitching with the intensity in which he was staring her down. “Something can’t not be up. My intuition is telling me something’s going on.”

Y/N let out a dry laugh. “Your intuition is doing you dirty then.”

Footsteps up the stairs had Nathan stop just as he was about to retort back, but he glanced over his shoulder instead, Y/N peering out from between Nathan and the doorframe. His curls appeared first, and then he was looking over at them, giving them that wry smile that had his right dimple deepen against his cheek. He was wearing all black, his tee shirt tucked into his black jeans, the sleeves of his tee shirt rolled up over his shoulders. Y/N hated how nice his arms looked like that.

“Alright?” Harry asked, voice just as deep and sensual as it always was. It hit Y/N like a train coming head on each time she heard his voice after some time of not. Harry’s eyes were on Nathan for a small second before they landed on Y/N, lingering there a little too long before he approached his door.

“We’re exhausted,” Nathan groaned, slumping against the doorframe.

“Same,” Harry said, looking down at his right hand, flexing his fingers. Y/N was unable to look away. “My arm feels like it’s gonna fall off, been vibrating all night holding the tattoo gun.”

Y/N bit her lips together.

“Uno Society alright?” he asked, looking solely at Y/N now. She wanted to shout at him to stop, to pay most attention to Nathan so he would stop giving them a hard time.

“Fine,” Y/N answered quickly.

Harry smiled at her, lightly nodding his head once. “Good.”

Y/N looked away, feeling her entire face heat up as she continued to feel Harry’s stare on her. She logged into Facebook to look at the family groupchat which she knew had most likely blown up since she last checked her phone. Her papai would go absolutely mad if she didn’t at least check the chat once every few hours.

“I’ll leave you two to it then, I guess,” Harry said, opening the door into his room. “Night, Nath.”

“Night, Haz.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

It was hard to not look at Harry, but Y/N managed a, “Hm,” in response before she focused all her attention back on writing her e-mail address and password into Facebook. The door to Harry’s room closed and the second he couldn’t see them, Nathan turned to Y/N. He gawked at her while making a sound akin to dinosaurs’.

“’Goodnight, Y/N’?!” he hissed, still sounding crazed like he had done a second earlier. He rushed into Y/N’s room, closing the door behind him so quickly and soundlessly it made Y/N think of all the other times they had rushed into each other’s rooms like this growing up.

“He’s just wishing me goodnight, Nathan, why’re you making up conspiracy theories?”

“Oh, that’s all there is to it, isn’t it?!” he whisper shouted, still sounding crazy.

Y/N rolled her eyes and clicked on the ‘log in’ button on Facebook, done with listening to any more of Nathan’s stupid theories. Doing so, she was immediately brought to the home page, displaying the 99+ messages that had been sent in the family groupchat. Y/N sighed, about to open the chat when she let her eyes drift, landing on something that made her pause.

“Harry obviously wants to-“ But Nathan stopped as well, eyes falling on Y/N’s laptop screen and seeing what she was seeing. “Kit.” It sounded like he said it more to himself than anything else, reminding himself of who that was a picture of. “Kit and Finian.”

The picture in front of them was from inside a pub, two men, clearly drunk, standing in the middle of the picture while a group of others were surrounding them. Kit had his left arm wrapped around Finian’s waist, a broad smile on his face, showing off crooked teeth and a slight, dark stubble. His styled black hair was rather nicely kept considering he was under the influence, and his small forehead and pointy nose glistened with sweat. The tank top he was wearing showed off his well-defined muscles, something Y/N knew Marcela had found attractive about her boyfriend.

Finian beside Kit was a little chubbier, wearing a baby blue polo shirt while he had an arm slung over his best friend’s shoulders. His brown hair was longer than Kit and had also been ruined by numerous hair-ruffles and fixes in the mirror since he started drinking. He was singing along to a song, eyes shut and a huge smile on his face.

Finian and Kit had known each other for years, Y/N was unsure how they had become friends. Marcela had met Kit while she went to University of Manchester, and the two had been together since her first year there. He was five years older than her, so ten years older than Y/N, and she had never had any sort of particular relationship to him. He would come by their house in Nottingham every once in a while, eat dinner with the family, but would more often than not stay put in Manchester. Y/N was always positioned next to him at family gatherings, and though she didn’t mind because they rarely talked, it still made her blood boil when she thought about it now. If she had just finished him off or gotten Marcela to break up with him, maybe her older sister would still be alive.

There had been found drops of Kit’s blood in the cabin after he disappeared, but that was nothing compared to the amount of blood belonging to Marcela that had been found there. Kit’s car was gone and all of his belongings with it. The police had stated that there was no doubt about it; Kit had killed Marcela, maybe by accident, maybe intentionally, and had hidden her body somewhere before running off. Three years had passed since then, and there had not been a single trace of Kit. He remained hidden. Some tipped the police about him, stating that they had seen him someplace far away from Newport, Wales. He had been sighted in England, Scotland, France, Morocco, and in Indonesia. Still, to this day when “sightings” of Kit were getting fewer and the days went on by, Y/N thought all the sightings weren’t him. If he had planned to kill her sister, he would have planned it out, she knew it.

The police and the population of Newport along with neighbouring towns had all searched the woods around the cabin, but Marcela’s body had not been found and neither had Kit. Nothing had been found; there were no definite answers. Except for one, at least to Y/N: Kit had killed Marcela, and he was still on the run.

Not able to look at his face any longer, Y/N’s eyes landed on the caption to the photo. Someone she knew from school had commented on it, making it appear on her dashboard, because it would never have found its way to her if not. It angered Y/N that people posted pictures of Kit as if he wasn’t a deranged murderer. The date showed 8th September last year. On the anniversary of Marcela’s murder. Y/N looked at the person who had posted it, Graham Bartlett, another one of Kit’s friends.

Miss you two everyday. #FindKitAndFin.

Y/N blinked. “Find… Find Kit and Fin?” she asked, frowning at the laptop screen in front of her.

Nathan leaned on the back of her chair. “You don’t know about Finian?”

“Obvs not.”

Nathan inhaled slowly. “Just a few days after Marcela died and Kit disappeared, Finian vanished as well.”

Y/N just stared at the picture, now not able to take her eyes off of Finian. She had seen him outside her house sometimes, just barely talked to him. He seemed like a typical bloke that thought he was better looking than he actually was, someone that made girls uncomfortable. He had picked up Kit from their house in Nottingham when Kit had stayed over and Marcela and Kit had fought, or he had just picked up the both of them sometimes to drive them back to Nottingham. He always seemed to hang out by his car, always leaning against it or smirking from the driver’s seat.

“He disappeared?”

“Yeah,” Nathan answered. “No one’s seen him in three years, four now coming September.”

“There’s not a trace of him?”

“No. He lived alone, so no one noticed ‘cause he rarely answered his phone, except his boss. He always answered him. So, when he didn’t even pick up when his boss was calling, they knew something was up,” Nathan explained. “His flat looked just the same as always when the police entered, though. It looks like he just left for the shop.”

“His car was gone?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N continued to just stare at Finian on the picture in front of her. “How… How didn’t I know about this?”

“Y/N, your sister had just been killed, you had other things on your mind than Kit’s vanished mate,” Nathan assured her. “Besides, someone might have told you. After all, there are big chunks of the following year that you can’t remember.”

Y/N nodded, closing her eyes for a few seconds before exiting out of Facebook. She couldn’t look at them any longer. Rage was bubbling inside her like a kettle about to boil over. What if Kit drove his car someplace and parked it where no one can find it, and then Finian came to get him? What if they drove away from the cabin because they knew that someone would eventually turn up, so it was better to be far away as fast as possible? Did they take Marcela’s body with them? Or is she still in Kit’s car, wherever that was? The thought made Y/N physically sick and she slammed her laptop shut.

Monday, 22 January 2018

Y/N put her white oversized jumper over her head, liking how the chunky knit felt against her freezing form. She had made the mistake of keeping her window open all night when she usually just opened it for a tad bit before going to bed, then closing it before she actually went to sleep, so her room was absolutely freezing when she woke up, something that resulted in her pulling out her thick jumper. Her black lace halterneck bralette showed at her neck and the open collar of the jumper, but Y/N did not care. The bralette was super cute, anyone who glimpsed it would be lucky. Running her hands over her black mum jeans, Y/N shoved her glasses further up the bridge of her nose before she walked out of her room, getting ready to walk downstairs to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast.

Y/N halted at the top of the stairs, glimpsing a very familiar, broad and muscular back where it stood on the terrace at the bottom of the stairs. Y/N could see something else black along his back, but she couldn’t make it out through the white of his tank top. She swallowed thickly as she stopped in the middle of the staircase, tightening her hold on the railing. He just looked so effortlessly… so fucking good. So good. It made her heart beat faster just looking at him. Though she had had her answer ready for a while now, she had just not found the right moment to tell him, but this seemed as good a time as any. So, taking a massive breath in through her mouth and then out through her nose, Y/N proceeded down the rest of the stairs and over to the terrace door.

She knocked on the glass twice, making Harry look over his shoulder rather abruptly to see who was there. At the sight of her, his eyes grew a little wide, but he stepped to the side, letting Y/N come out onto their small terrace. Harry held onto his tea mug bringing it up to his lips as he let his eyes travel down Y/N’s body as quickly as possible. At that, it was physically impossible for Y/N to do the same to him.

He was wearing his loose black jeans again, but this time he only wore a white tank top to go with it, tucked into his jeans. The collar went so low that Y/N could see Harry’s two dragon tattoos, the red one over the left side of his chest and the black one on his right one. It had been a while since she had seen those. The thought of Harry having more tattoos hidden under his clothes on parts of himself that other people rarely got to see-

“-Fine,” Y/N said, interrupting her own thoughts. She held her hands up, letting them fall to her sides as she met Harry’s eyes again. “I’ll do it.”

There was a slight pause as Harry’s face went from slightly smug to absolutely bewildered, blinking rapidly as if he had to check if this was all real and not some made up daydream. “You’re… You’re saying yes?”

“Are you deaf?”

“You’re going to teach me how to be good-“

“-Shush!” Y/N hissed, taking a step closer to Harry with a finger in front of her mouth, eyes wide. “Let’s keep this between us and not all of Hackney.”

Harry let a small smile show, a light chuckle leaving his lips, even though his searching eyes told her he was still in disbelief. “But you’re not just taking the piss, we’re actually gonna do this?”

“Yes.”

Y/N could see Harry’s grip on his mug tighten as he bit his bottom lip. “Yeah… alright…” he mumbled under his breath. “I wish there was a chair out here, I feel like my knees are gonna give out.”

“Oh,” Y/N said, looking around them as if a chair was just going to materialise out of thin air. “I-“

“-I’ve also been trying to get you alone to say sorry,” Harry said, leaning against the brick wall. “I feel like I put a lot of pressure on you to say yes ‘cause I was so desperate, I didn’t really think a whole lot about anything other than just getting the question out into the open and for you to at least consider it. But in retrospect, I realise I should’ve stopped after your first ‘what the fuck is wrong with you’, but I didn’t, and I understand how stupid that was of me.” He sipped his tea, eyes on the inside of his mug before he locked eyes with her again. “If you want to stop this, at any time, or if you don’t even want to start now, that’s completely fine. All I care about is that you feel comfortable doing this. I not only appreciate you considering it and also doing it, but I also really want to have sex with you. I’m… well…” His eyes fell to his tea again, then at Y/N’s feet. “You’re so pretty, and I’ve always thought that.”

A few moments pass when the two of them are silent, the distant sounds of London waking up to a new day keeping them company as they both let this moment wash over them. Y/N’s eyes did not leave Harry and she noticed the slight pink hue that appeared over his cheekbones, and something told her that wasn’t the cold temperature and the wind of the canal’s doing.

“I’ve always thought the same about you,” she said, meeting Harry’s eyes when he looked up at her.

Hundreds of memories from a life before this one in London flashed past them as they stood there, suddenly remembering everything that had brought them to this very moment right here. Y/N wondered that, if they hadn’t had sex that one time three, almost four years ago, would Harry still have suggested this? She didn’t think he ever would have, even though they were both very sexually attracted to one another.

“This can’t go past sex,” Y/N said, breaking the silence once again. “It’s never going to become something more, at least not on my end, and I expect that from you too. Promise me we’re just gonna have sex, I’m going to make you feel more confident in bed, and then we can move past this without looking at one another any differently, okay?”

“I promise.”

“And you give me as many free tattoos as I want. However big.”

Harry smiled. “Of course.”

“Good.”

Harry bit his bottom lip, eyes resting on the bralette strap that was visible at Y/N’s neck. He quickly looked up again. “I want you to want to have sex with me, Y/N.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, giving Harry a reassuring smile. “I do. I’ve wanted to for a while. Your predicament just took me off guard.”

“If you at any point don’t want to continue, I’ll understand, and we’ll stop.”

“Naturally.”

Harry nodded, his brain working as he thought about something. “Now… Do you… Do we…”

Y/N just looked at him.

“Do you need me to buy anything?” he asked, to which Y/N continued to just look at him. “Lube? Condoms? Toys?”

She drew in a sharp breath, feeling her heartbeat quicken drastically. “You know what, buy whatever you want, whatever you need. I don’t care.” She put her hand on the doorknob, about to enter the flat.

“Oh! Also!” Harry exclaimed. “My birthday is next week, I’m celebrating with some mates and the flat at a teammates house, wanna come with? You can ask Chloe and the rest to come if you wanna.”

Y/N flashed a tight-lipped smile. “I’m flattered, but I’m working, I’m afraid.”

“Bugger.”

“Truly,” Y/N said, really meaning it. “I’ll leave a note under your door when our first… time will be.” She paused. “First session, maybe? We’ve already had our first time.”

Harry shrugged.

“Well, I’ll leave a note under your door when that first session will be.”

Harry grinned. “Can’t wait.”

“And leave that grin in your room, I don’t want to see you being all smug when we have a go that first time.”

His grin only widened. “Love, when I’m with you, fighting that grin is like fighting an oncoming tornado. I can’t win.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as Harry laughed. She walked back inside to go make herself something to eat while she felt Harry’s eyes on her the whole time, watching her through the window. Despite herself, Y/N found herself smiling as well.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 18th April, 9PM GMT!

Huge thanks to my AMAZING beta readers! 🏛️ @aileenacoustic​ 🏛️ @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​​​ 🏛️ @sunflowerstache​ 🏛️ @fromyourstrulyh​​ 🏛️

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[tchallasbabymama]

All For Us Chapter 6

Here it is, enjoy 😘

Check out my masterlist to catch up on this story or read my other ones, and let me know if you want to be tagged.

Word count: 5686

“Daddy’s here!” Imani yelled in excitement before hopping down off the kitchen stool and running to the door as soon as she heard it open. 

Erik had only been back with them for about a week, but in that short amount of time, he and his Cupcake had become attached at the hip. He read her bedtime stories every night, and he took her to school in the mornings so the two of them could have daddy-daughter bonding time. Erik and Mira would pick her up together at the end of the day, and it had become such a habit over the few short days they stayed in the palace that when Mira showed up to pick Imani up from school by herself, the little girl was crushed. She instantly became worried that Erik was gone again and burst into tears, but Mira was able to calm her down and remind her of their conversation the night before about his new job.

“Baby girl, we have to talk to you about something,” Mira said as she and Erik entered their daughter’s room.

“What is it?” Imani put her crayons down and looked up at her parents as they came and sat on the floor across from her. 

“The three of us are going on an adventure around Wakanda!” exclaimed Mira.

“Really?!” Imani perked up. “What kind of adventure?” 

“Well, we can’t really get to know Wakanda well without exploring it, right?” Erik chimed in.

“Right!”

“So we’re gonna spend the next couple months living in the different provinces. You’ll still get to go to your same school with your friends, but you’ll get to make even more friends all over Wakanda.”

“I know how much you like being here with Auntie, and Lala, and Shuri-” Mira began before her child corrected her.

“And Okoye, and A’Kidi, and Ayo,” Imani said with a smile.

“Yes, them too,” Mira chuckled. “You’ll still get to come visit, and the adventure is only for a few months. We’ll be right back here in no time. What do you think?”

“II like it! Where are we going?”

“Well, you know how it snowed back home a few months ago, and you got to play outside in it?”

“Mhm.” Imani nodded furiously.

“First, we’re going someplace where it’s like that every day! It’s called Jabariland,” Mira said with a flourish.

“Jabariland?”

“Mhm, and then we’ll be out in the countryside for a while. We’ll be close to Shuri’s lab, and she said you could come visit her whenever.”

“After that, we’ll be out near the rhinos. Mommy told me how much you love feeding them,” Erik smiled down at her.

“Their tongues tickle,” Imani giggled.

“Then, we’re gonna go live on the river, and then we’ll be back here.”

“I still get to see my friends at school?”

“Absolutely,” Erik answered.

“And our family?”

“At least once a week for Sunday dinner, but knowing them, we’ll see them more than that,” Mira smirked and started tickling Imani. “I don’t think Lala can go more than a couple of days without spoiling his favorite girl.”

Imani’s giggles filled the room and brought a smile to Erik’s face. Mira let her go, and as Imani came down from her giggle fit, she could see that her daughter had more to say.

“What are you gonna do on our adventure when I’m at school?”

“We’ll be going to work and making friends of our own.”

Imani nodded as she took in the information and processed it. Her newly-snaggletoothed smile slowly took over her face and pushed her dimples deep into her cheeks. “When can we go?”

“We start tomorrow,” Mira said with a smile on her face, pleased with how the conversation went. She should have known Imani would be excited about their little “adventure,” but hearing the words quelled her anxieties. She had been worried about how Imani would adjust to the changes, but the little girl seemed down for the ride.

When they got back to their new home in Jabariland, Imani was amazed by the soft blanket of white that covered their corner of Wakanda. Mira wrapped her up in her furs before sliding into her own, both provided by the king, of course, and they spent some time outdoors playing in the snow. Mira knew she had a couple more hours until Erik got home, so once the cold had seeped into their bones enough, they went inside, and she started a yam stew on the stove.

When Erik walked in he was dog tired. His body had been worn down by his day of firefighter training. Despite having the heart-shaped herb in his system, he was in much worse shape than he thought after having laid dormant for two years. He wanted nothing more than to soak in the tub and climb into bed, but when he heard Imani’s voice, he forgot all about his exhaustion.

He kicked off his boots and scooped her up into his arms, leaving smooches all over her face. “How was school today?”

“Good! We started learning addition and subtraction. Mommy was just helping me with it.”

“Addition and subtraction already?” Erik asked Mira as he moseyed into the kitchen. “She’s four.”

“And a half,” Imani corrected.

“Excuse me, she’s four and a half, and they already have them doing that?”

“Mhm, and doing it well. Look at her homework,” Mira gestured to the projection coming from the holopad on the counter. Sure enough, he saw her work going all the way up to 10+10.

“Wow, good job, Cupcake!” He high-fived her and set her back down on the same stool she hopped off of moments earlier. 

“So, how was work today?” Mira asked as she stirred the simmering stew, and Erik fought the urge to stare at her bubble butt in those red bicycle shorts. Her cropped adinkra symbol t-shirt dusted right above her navel, and he could see she was wearing her favorite strand of waistbeads. 

He tore his eyes away from her and double-checked Imani’s homework for errors as he sighed, “I’m out of shape. They’re probably gonna put me on communications, and I can’t say I’m mad at it.”

“You were asleep for two years. I’m sure that affected your body in some way.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be faster and stronger...I need to talk to T’Challa about it,” he mumbled with a crease in his brow.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Yeah...what you cooking over there?” Erik hopped up and joined Mira by the stove, breathing in whatever delicious concoction she had whipped up.

“A nice, hearty stew. I wanted to play around with some flavors, so I hope you like it.”

“Girl, every time you experiment in the kitchen, that shit comes out tasting like heaven. I trust you.”

“Thank you,” Mira hid her face so he couldn’t see the slight deepening of her skin tone at his words, but he noticed. She quickly changed the subject to distract him, waving the wooden spoon in his face, “And don’t curse around Imani.”

Erik put his hands up in surrender as he backed away, “Yes, ma’am.”

He kissed the top of Imani’s head before going down the hall to his room to change out of his heavy clothing. 

It was the first time just the three of them had sat down together for dinner in years, and Mira’s appetite almost left her entirely as her emotions started to take over. She pushed them down deep and forced some stew into her system before getting up to clean the kitchen. Erik could tell something was wrong, so when Imani went to her room to play with her dolls, he took the opportunity to investigate.

He brought the empty bowls over to the sink and scooted her out of the way.

“You cooked, so I’ll handle the dishes,” he said, and she nodded, leaning against the counter. “So, did you talk to M’Baku about your job?”

“Yeah, a few wardogs are teaching different language classes across the provinces now, and the ones here need some afterschool help. So...you’re looking at Jabariland’s newest English tutor!” she announced as she struck a pose. 

“Alright, I see you, Mira. Getting your educator on,” he joked as he scrubbed the dishes, making her smile as she went to wipe down the table. He turned around to say something, but he was met with the sight of her bending over to reach across the kitchen table. He had missed seeing her from that angle and loudly cleared his throat. He turned around quicker than she did and knew he had to come up with a quick answer in three, two, one…

“What’s up? You only do that when there’s something big on your mind.” 

“Do what?”

“Clear your throat like that.”

“I do not,” he said incredulously.

“Nigga, I’ve known you for almost a decade. I know when something’s on your mind, so talk.”

The way she spoke to him warmed his heart. He had missed her attitude, and it reminded him of their past. He fought a smile from creeping up his cheeks as he spoke, “T told you about the Golden Jaguar, right?”

“Yeah, he said you’re like another Black Panther.”

“I’m supposed to be, but nothing seems to be working.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was king for a day, my vision was sharper, and my hearing and sense of smell were stronger...I felt like I could run a mile a minute, but right now, I can’t even walk up ten flights of stairs-”

“That’s a lot of stairs, Erik.”

“Not for me,” he sighed. 

“Maybe you need another dosage?”

“Nah, they got to me before my heart stopped, so it should still be in there.”

Mira leaned up against the back of the couch and crossed her arms over her chest as she watched his shoulders move while he scrubbed the bottom of the stew pot. It was difficult for her to imagine Erik with superhuman powers, but the idea intrigued her.

“You and T’Challa both describe it as a spiritual experience, so maybe it’s a spiritual blockage or something?”

Erik finished rinsing the pot out and placed it on the rack to drip dry before turning around and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I tried praying to Bast, but nothing happens. I don't hear her the way I did when I first took the herb.”

“You could hear her?”

He nodded, “Clear as day.”

They stood there in silence until Erik let out a sigh, “Well, I, uh, need to go soak these old bones in some Epsom salt-”

“You’re not even thirty,” Mira laughed, making him crack a tiny smile that barely reached his dimples as he lumbered down the hall to his bedroom.

--------

Over the next month, Erik and Mira settled into a nice groove. Mira handled breakfast and getting Imani to school in the mornings. She spent the rest of the day running errands, brushing up on her language skills, or pouring over her curriculum. She went to work around the time Imani got out of school, so Erik picked her up on his way home from work. Erik got placed on communications at the station, so he wasn’t as worn out by the end of the day, which left him time to get dinner ready before Mira got home from her tutoring job. The three of them would clean the kitchen after dinner, dancing around and making it fun to keep Imani engaged. Then they’d spend some time together as a family, either playing with Imani’s toys or with her curled up on the couch between them as they watched whatever movie they had agreed on for the night.

Erik liked the routine, but things had to change a little when they moved to live with the Mining tribe. Erik switched to taking Imani to school in the mornings since he was too worn out by the end of the day to pick her up. The shifts in the mines were short to prevent burnout, but even after just a couple of hours of mining Erik’s body wanted to crash.  Mira, however, was loving the changes. She spent her days in Shuri’s lab learning Wakandan coding languages. They weren't too different from what she used to do for work, but she was a little rusty. She had started to miss her days as a software engineer, even though she wouldn’t trade her current life for the world. 

That is until one day, while she was cooking dinner, Imani moseyed into the kitchen when it was almost done and started asking her questions that she wished she could avoid. 

“Mommy, why don’t you and daddy have the same room? A’Kidi said when his parents were together, they only had one room, and that’s how it is on tv, too.”

Mira stilled, and her eyes widened. She took a second to fix her face before turning to look at her inquisitive child.

“Well, baby, some people just do things a little differently.”

“But Kofi and Sanaa said that when their parents slept in two rooms, they got dehorsed,” Imani said with the saddest look on her face.

“Divorced, sweetie,” Mira corrected her as she heard the door unlock, thankful for the distraction. “Yay, daddy’s home.”

“Daddy!” Imani ran to him and jumped in his arms, completely unaware of how sore they were. He’d never say anything because he cared more about having his baby girl close than the pain that was rippling through his upper body. 

“Hey, Cupcake!” He peppered kisses all over her face like he did every day, but this time her giggles seemed a little uninspired. He pulled back to look at her questioningly as he carried her into the kitchen and set her on her favorite stool. “What’s up with you today?”

Mira shot him a look, but it was too late. He had opened the floodgates.

“Are you and mommy getting dehorsed?”

“Divorced,” Mira said with a deep sigh. 

“Divorced?!” Erik panicked.

“I’m just correcting her,” she reassured him as she turned off the stove. “And the answer is no, sweetie.”

“Where’s this coming from?” His voice had gone up an octave and refused to come down.

“Kofi and Sanaa’s parents just got divorced, and it has her a little spooked.”

“They said their mama and baba slept in two rooms like you, but everyone else with two parents said theirs have one room.”

The tension that had started growing in Erik’s jaw and shoulders when he heard the word divorce slowly slipped away, and he released a deep breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding. Mira’s eyes traveled over his form, watching his body language change as the conversation progressed, and her stomach lightly turned at the thought of ever divorcing him.

“Baby girl, you don’t have to worry about that, ok?” Mira said, trying her best to ignore the way Erik’s soft eyes zeroed in on her. She gave in, and they locked eyes across the kitchen island. She couldn’t hold his gaze for long, but it was enough to make his heart skip a beat. 

“Yeah, you’re stuck with us. Both of us,” Erik tickled her, but her giggles still weren’t as full as they could be. “Aight, what is it?”

“You and mommy always say you love me, but you don’t say it to each other.”

Their gazes met again, each one recognizing the emotion in the other’s deep brown eyes. 

“Listen to me, Cupcake,” Erik turned her stool so that she was fully facing him. “I love you and your mommy more than anything else in this world.”

Mira quickly turned back around to hide the tears she was so desperately fighting and busied herself with stirring the spaghetti sauce.

“Mommy?”

“Yeah, baby?” Mira’s voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. Erik smirked at her attempt to hide her emotions.

“Do you love daddy?”

Mira froze and closed her eyes. 

“Of course I do,” she breathed out before changing the subject, “Now go wash your hands for dinner.”

Imani hopped down off the stool at her mother’s request and made her way to the bathroom to wash her hands. 

“Stop staring at me,” Mira grumbled with her back still turned.

“I wasn’t even looking at you,” Erik lied, making her chuckle. “You still love me?”

Mira turned off the stovetop and turned around.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Sounds like a ‘but’ coming…”

“I do still love you, but-”

“There it is.”

“Erik!”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“I love you, but that doesn’t change anything.”

“You don’t want to divorce me?”

“No, but-”

“Then that’s all that matters. We’ll figure the rest out,” he winked as he got up to change out of his work clothes.

--------

A key part of Erik’s recovery involved him making good memories for himself. Every moment with his family formed a new good memory, and everyone could see the bliss on his face when they all came together. He smiled more, and not just with Imani and Mira, but with the Udakus as well. He and T’Challa had grown close over the last couple of months, and Shuri had started to come around, too. During their time in Jabariland, Erik and M’Baku became friends and regularly hung out on playdates with their kids. M’Baku’s two daughters, A’Sami and Ade, were a year older and younger than Imani, respectively. The girls got along great, and Erik made his first genuine friend he had in years. Mira was so proud of him.

He was building a support system, and he wanted to keep up the good momentum. So early one beautiful Saturday morning, Erik woke up with an idea, and a few hours later, found himself sweating over a grill while his family and friends congregated in his backyard. He was all smiles every time Mira looked up at him from her conversation with Okoye and Ayo. The three of them sat on blankets in the grass, watching the kids play tag in the large grassy area, and the happy couple noticed Mira’s fleeting glances towards her husband.

“How are things with Erik?” Ayo inquired.

“They’re ok. Nothing has changed, really. Except-” Mira cut herself off with a sigh.

“Except?” Okoye prodded.

She looked around and lowered her voice, “The other day, Imani was asking questions about our relationship, and we both said we love each other.”

“That is it?”

“That and I know I don’t want to divorce him,” Mira shrugged.

Ayo and Okoye smirked at each other, making Mira roll her eyes and take a sip of her cocktail.

Meanwhile, over by the grill, M’Baku and Erik were discussing last night’s televised dambe fight when Erik looked up and almost dropped the tongs in the hot coals. M’Baku turned around and saw the Udaku clan, fashionably late, as usual, joined by a gorgeous woman he had never seen before.

“Holy shit.”

“Umtshana!”

“Sorry Auntie, but...how do you know her?”

T’Challa chuckled and pulled her close to him by her waist.

“We go way back,” he smiled down at her. “Ororo, meet my cousin, Erik.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Erik. You have a lovely home.”

“Thanks, it’s a rental,” he said in awe before calling out to Mira. When she turned around, her drink fell out of her hand, and she could barely move. Was this how Imani felt when she saw T’Challa in his suit? Because she was absolutely starstruck. There was Storm, her all-time favorite superhero and literal goddess, in her backyard of all places. Okoye and Ayo jumped up on alert but calmed back down when they saw what the fuss was about.

“I am glad she is back,” Okoye smiled.

“He looks so happy.”

“Wait, she’s been here before?”

“Yes, Ororo is his ex. Go say hi; she is a lovely woman,” Ayo shooed her off. 

Mira made her way up the slight incline of their backyard, and the closer she got to Ororo, the more her legs felt like jelly.

“H-hi,” she barely breathed out, making Shuri cackle as she and Ramonda passed them to go mingle. 

“Hi,” Ororo chuckled. “You must be Mira. I was just telling Erik here how much I love your home.”

“Thanks, it’s a rental.” The other three laughed, confusing Mira. “So, um, can I get you anything?”

“I’ll take whatever you just dropped. Actually, let’s make it two. You need a refill,” Ororo said as she linked her arm in Mira’s and walked her towards the drinks table. 

“That went well,” T’Challa commented as he popped open a beer. 

“Oh, she loooooves Storm. You just made her day. Her entire life,” Erik chuckled as he flipped the chicken quarters over. “So, how’d that happen?”

“I am sorry, is she supposed to be a big deal?” M’Baku cut in, making the other two stare at him with their mouths open.

“Bruh, that’s Storm...of the X-Men...controls the weather...nothing’s ringing a bell?”

“No. Is she one of the Gifted?”

“Oh, she’s like the most gifted. This nigga bagged a goddess.”

M’Baku raised his cup to cheers T’Challa for his choice of a partner when the sound of his daughters arguing caught his attention.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he excused himself to go break up the fight before it got out of hand. His little warriors could get vicious with each other when they wanted to. Erik shook his head and smiled at the thought of Imani having a younger sibling. The thought didn’t last long before another, much more important one entered his mind.

“Hey, so, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“What is it, umzala?”

He lowered his voice, knowing his cousin could still hear him over the music.

“I’ve been having this...problem-”

“Ah. It’s ok. It happens to the best of us. Or so I’ve heard,” T’Challa winked. 

“No, I wish that was the problem, but you gotta get some for that to happen, so…”

“Understood. So what is it?” 

“The heart-shaped herb...are you sure it’s still in my system?”

“Shuri did bloodwork on you to check after she stabilized you. It’s still in there. Why?”

“I don’t feel it anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I first took it, my senses were sharper, and I was stronger and faster...and I could hear Bast. Now all I get is dreams of the garden burning.”

“Do you have those often?”

“Almost every night now.”

“It seems like she is trying to tell you something.”

“I wish she’d just tell me instead of doing all this,” Erik grumbled.

T’Challa laughed and put his hand on his cousin’s shoulder, “That is not how goddesses work.”

“So, what should I do?”

“Try talking to her in your dreams. She is sending them for a reason.”

Erik nodded and started pulling the first batch of food off the grill.

That night, as he climbed into bed and reflected on his day, he was all smiles until he remembered what he had to do. He closed his eyes tentatively as he waited for sleep to take him.

When Erik opened his eyes, he was in the garden of the heart-shaped herb. The beautiful purple flowers glowed in the cavernous temple, but when he took a step forward, his bare feet charred the ground beneath him. He stepped back in shock, but everywhere his feet landed, he scorched the earth. He tried to stomp out the fire, but the flames grew with every movement, and pretty soon, he was surrounded by them. He watched with horror as the heart-shaped herbs were burned to a crisp, but instead of waking up at that moment the way he usually did, he walked towards the statue of Bast at the center of the temple and knelt at her feet as the flames surrounded him. He closed his eyes and prayed to her as the fire inched closer, and when it reached him, he was surprised to find himself unscathed.

“Did you really think you would die in a fire in a dream?” a strong, soothing voice bounced off the walls as the flames subsided, leaving the scorched land in its wake.

Erik’s gaze traveled up the panther statue and landed on Bast’s surprisingly soft eyes.

“Is this real?” 

Bast rolled her eyes and stepped down from the platform she had been standing on and walked closer to Erik so that he could feel her breath on his skin.

“What do you think?”

Erik fell to his knees and stared up at her, in awe of the actual deity before him.

“My goddess, I-”

“Save it,” she grumbled, making Erik’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I allowed you to become the Golden Jaguar, and you spat in my face in return. Your child is the only reason I allow you to still walk the earthly plane.”

Erik hung his head in shame, and she growled down at him, “Look at me when I am speaking to you.”

His eyes darted back upwards, and she could see the tears he was willing not to fall.

“Now, I understand why you did what you did, but that does not make up for the fact that you forced my priestesses to burn their life’s work. I gave your people the heart-shaped herb once, and now I have to do it again...because of you. And now you come to me crying about your lack of powers? Tell me, why do you deserve them?” She sat down, and her tail twitched left and right as she awaited his answer. Just as she was beginning to grow impatient, he spoke up.

“I don’t,” his voice cracked. 

“That’s right, you don’t,” said, making Erik nod his head as he took in her words. They stung, but he knew they weren’t without truth. “But...I have been watching you over the last few months, and I will make you a deal.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“I know you will.”

--------

When Erik first started working at the Border tribe, he was on patrol duty. They had placed him at the Nigandan border, but he was quickly reassigned when he confided in T’Challa that it gave him flashbacks to his time in the military. Instead, he was placed on air traffic control. Erik took to it like white on rice and enjoyed messing with T’Challa on his frequent departures and arrivals.

One day, right when Erik started his lunch break, he looked up to see his wife and child heading in his direction. He lit up at seeing their beautiful faces, but his smile promptly fell flat when he noticed their expressions. 

“Well, hello, ladies,” Omari, Erik’s boss, greeted Mira and Imani as they entered the building. His eyes lingered on Mira a little too long, and Erik’s anger flared in his chest. 

“Hey baby,” Erik stood and kissed Mira on the cheek before pulling Imani into his arms. Mira was stunned by his actions, but she didn’t want to say anything in front of Erik’s coworkers.

“H-hey,” she stuttered back.

“It’s just noon. Why isn’t she in school?”

Mira jerked her head towards a less crowded area of the break room, and they relocated away from prying ears. Imani got settled on Erik’s lap and tried to avoid her mother’s gaze.

“Tell daddy what happened,” Mira said softly.

Imani nodded and looked up at Erik with sad puppy dog eyes and a quivering lip.

“I got in a fight at school.”

“A fight?” Erik said a little too loudly, making Omari and his other coworkers look up at the family. He lowered his voice and continued, “What happened Cupcake?”

“Danika said that her mommy said that you’re evil and she’s going to a new school to get away from me because you killed her auntie. Then she pushed me, and I pushed her back, then Mr. Omi came over and stopped it.”

Erik and Mira were both too shocked by the first part of her statement to focus on some rugrat putting her hands on their baby girl. They had hoped to avoid having to talk about Killmonger until she was much older. They knew they wouldn’t be able to hide it from her, especially if they stayed in Wakanda. They were shaken from their stupors by Imani asking the worst question possible.

“Why does she think you’re evil, daddy?” The innocent look on Imani’s face broke her parents, and Mira cleared her throat to change the subject but couldn’t get the words to come out.

Erik wasn’t any better. He didn’t think he’d have to lay his sins out for his daughter so soon. He knew if the kids at school were talking about him, then they had to tell her. She’d probably learn about it in school one day, anyway. Erik tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. He looked to Mira for help and cleared his throat, making her look up at him. 

“Um, baby girl, it’s time for daddy to get back to work-”

“Hold up, let me talk to Omari real quick.”

Mira nodded while Erik moved Imani from his lap and went to see if his boss would let him off early for the day. Imani wandered over to her mom, and Mira could see the furrow in her brow as she thought about the conversation or lack thereof. Erik came jogging back and ushered the two of them out of the building. 

The ride home was eerily silent. Mira kept trying to catch Erik’s eye, but he seemed to be in a daze. He was mentally preparing for the conversation ahead. He knew they wouldn’t be able to hide much from their inquisitive child since vague answers just made her dig deeper. He had to figure out how to sanitize the story to make it appropriate for children. And not just any children, his child. The child of a man who used to be a monster. He knew he’d have to look her in the eye and tell her what he did one day, but so soon? He wasn’t ready; neither of them was.

Not a word was spoken until they entered the house.

“Imani, go play in your room for a little while. We’ll be in there in a little bit.”

“Ok, mommy,” she said softly, already making her way down the hall. 

Her parents watched her every step, and the second she cracked the door behind her, their eyes met in a panic.

“What do we say to her? She’s four!” 

“You don’t have to say anything...I do,” Erik sighed. 

Mira nodded in understanding. This was something he needed to do on his own.

“I need to be there, though. For both of you,” Mira said, grabbing his hand in hers. Erik pulled her hand to his lips for a kiss and looked down into her big brown eyes. She could see the fear and sadness in his, so she kissed his cheek in return. “You can do this. I know you can.”

“What do I even say?”

“I don’t know,” Mira shrugged her shoulders and saw Imani peek out of her room, “but you’re gonna have to improv. She’s getting impatient.”

Erik turned around and saw Imani’s head duck back into her room with a quickness. He took in a deep breath that reached all the way down into his abdomen, just like Naomi had taught him, and released it through his mouth. He nodded to Mira, and they made their way down the hallway to Imani’s room. That walk had never felt so tedious.

“Hey, Cupcake.”

“What’s wrong?”

Erik sat on Imani’s bed and pulled her into his lap while Mira sat crosslegged on the floor in front of them. 

“I need to tell you a story.”

“Ok…” she said, already nervously playing with her dad’s bracelet as he spoke.

“It’s a sad one, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Once, there was this little boy named N’Jadaka. He and his mommy and daddy lived in this far off place called Oakland-”

“Oakland. Where’s that?”

“It’s in California, sweetie. Let daddy finish.”

Imani nodded and went back to playing with his beads.

“And they were happy as they could be. Until one day, bad people came and took his mommy away. Then another bad person took his daddy away. He had a hard life growing up, but one day he met an angel, and that angel gifted him with a tiny angel...but the whole time, he kept plotting about getting revenge. He did a lot of bad things and hurt a lot of people out of anger, but all he wanted was to get to the man who killed his baba. The mean man died one day, so N’Jadaka hurt his son instead. His son fought N’Jadaka and won, but he understood why he was angry and took him in. So now, N’Jadaka and his angels have a new family.”

“Ok...what does that have to do with you?”

Erik looked down at Mira and turned Imani around in his lap so she could face him.

“I’m N’Jadaka…”

Imani’s eyebrows scrunched together as she looked away and tried to understand what he had just told her. “So you hurt people because someone hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“But Danika said you killed her auntie…”

Erik shifted uncomfortably.

“Sometimes people do really bad things, but that doesn’t make them bad people,” Mira chimed in from the floor.

“Cupcake,” he said, softly turning her face towards him. “I need you to know I’ve changed. T’Challa believed in me, and-”

“What does Lala have to do with it?”

“He helped me get better.”

“So...you tried to hurt him?” They could see the wheels turning in her head, and she started squirming.

“Yes.”

“Like you hurt Danika’s auntie?” she looked up at her daddy with tears in her eyes as she slid off his lap and into Mira’s. 

“Cupcake-” Erik reached for her, and she shrunk away, breaking his heart into a million pieces.  Next Chapter

Taglist:  @ladymac82 , @kitesatforestp, @harleycativy​, @raysunshine78​, @maddeningmayhem​, @theblulife​, @motheroffae​, @love-mesome-me​, @toni9​, 

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #black!oc #erik killmonger x oc #njadaka #Erik Stevens #killmonger #all for us

[hello-everyfandom]

“Everything between us is a moment”

Warnings: Small mentions of abuse.

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Words: 1k

Summary: Sirius quite enjoys laying on your lap and listening to you read. 

Part Two to “Sirius loves all the attention,”

You supposed having Sirius around wasn’t too bad. He was quite good company even though somehow when around your brother he became more of a nitwit. You were quite fond of him and truly did enjoy his small jokes and banter. Sometimes, after James went to bed complaining that he needed ‘no less than eight hours of beauty sleep,’ you and Sirius would sit in front of the fireplace. You would read works of muggle literature softly whilst Sirius laid his head in your lap. He had become quite keen on your couch in the living room. Perhaps it was because it was the couch Mr. and Mrs. Potter had accepted him into your home, but mainly he found it so lovely was because it was where the two of you had your first kiss. It was an accident, really, at least for you. You really weren’t doing anything but reading to him until he began to fidget.

“What is it?” you asked, rather amused. “Do you not find Jane Austen appealing?”

Sirius shook his head, “It’s nothing on you, love. Actually, I quite like hearing you read about love, ‘m just not as keen on the mother, ‘s all.”

“Really? The famous Sirius Black has an opinion about literature?” you gasped in fake surprise, “What’s wrong with Mrs. Bennett? She seems to be a doting mother.”  

“She’s controlling, so what if Lizzy doesn’t want a husband? And she’s always telling the girls what to do and what not to do and then throws a fit when things don’t go her way. I think she’s quite a frigid bitch, if you ask me. This book is just rubbish.” You listened to Sirius knowing full well this wasn’t about some silly classical literature. You close the book and placed it next to you, using your fingers to comb through his hair. Sirius closed his eyes and sighed in content, feeling you around him was better than drinking a thousand fire whiskeys. He could lay there for years and never be bored with your awful jokes. But, you did worry about him. Sometimes, throughout the night, you or James would have to wake Sirius up due to his night terrors. He awoke with sweat beaded foreheads and tears that were quickly blinked away. It terrified you. Though you never asked him about his family, you understood that there was a weight on his shoulders that could very well manifest itself into depression. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, voice nearly a whisper as you continued to stroke his hair. 

“mm,” Sirius shook his head, “not really, love, I’d rather not ruin the moment.”

“Oh? So this is a moment now?”

“Everything between us is a moment, you twit,” he laughed and opened his eyes. You tried to displace your face of worry, but he caught on too quick and sighed, “what about it did you want to talk about?”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to” you assured Sirius, “but, I think perhaps it’d make you feel better. I’d rather you say something than bottle it in an implode on the first day back at Hogwarts.”

Sirius took hold of your hand and placed a kiss on the palm as he did nearly every day, “ ‘s so sweet you care about me,”

“Of course I care about you, you’re my-”

“Your what?” he beamed making you grin and blush,

“Friend.”

“Oof, Darling, you really know how to shut a man down.”

“I think of you more as a boy than a man,” placing your hand on his cheek. “Really, though, Sirius.”

“Hmm?” he hummed again,

“I’m, uh, I’m glad you got out of there and came here.”

Sirius smiled genuinely and sat up so he could face you, “I’m glad too,”

“It makes me very angry that you got hurt there,” you said truthfully. It was agonizing to even think of Sirius in an unsafe place, fearing his family and wishing for solace someplace else. If it were up to you, you would’ve made him come home the second you first met him in first year.

“It was... brutal and uh, wicked. But, in a bad way.” he rubbed his neck, could see a faint scar on the back of his palm that seemed to have formed from a knife. 

“I’m sorry.” you watched as Sirius blinked away tears.

“It happened, it’s over. Besides, I have a much nicer family here than there. I think your mum may even love me more than the both of you combined,” he poked your side.

“Yeah, absolutely,” you agreed. Sirius stared at you. The fireplace reflected off your eyes and your lips were curled into a tender look. If he could, he’d frame this moment and place beside his bed so he could look at it every morning and every night. He watched you tuck a piece of stray hair behind your ear and your eyes flicker to look up and down his face. He couldn’t help it. Placing a warm hand on your face, you leaned into his touch. Being James’ younger sibling and Sirius’ best friend, you never thought in a million years that Sirius would ever kiss you. But here he was. Kissing you. You had seen Sirius snog some of the girls on Gryffindor at parties, but it always seemed too fast for you and had too much tongue. But, Sirius didn’t kiss you fast. It was slow, with lips moving against lips. It was as if he were terrified, which he admittedly was, that you would slip from his grasp and disappear into dust on the floor. He moved so both hands could cup your face and separated from you to kiss your cheeks, your forehead, your nose and chin and everywhere he could. You giggled as it tickled when he kissed your nose and he bit back a smile before kissing you once again. The two of you hummed and sighed happily, sinking into each other’s arms.

“I think,” Sirius finally said, “James is going to kill me.”

“You bet your left arse cheek James is going to kill you.” James said from the staircase. Sirius jumped six feet in the air and you’ve never seen James smirk so wide.

#sirius black imagines #sirius black #sirius black imagine #marauders imagine #marauders #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagines #sirius black oneshot #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine

[flowercrown-bard]

To give without knowing (1/ ?)

Inspired by YorkandDelta <3

pairing: Geraskier

word count: 2k

summary: Jaskier finds a wooden figure Geralt had carved and thrown away in the woods and thinks it’s a gift from the fae

read on AO3

next

Witchers didn’t carry pretty trinkets and momentos with them. What use would they be? All they did was take up too much space in the bags and get in the way. So Geralt made a point not to get attached. Not to places, not to people and not to objects that weren’t strictly necessary for his survival. Least of all he got attached to the small wooden animals he found himself carving whenever he was alone with his thoughts and certain that no one was around to watch him craft them. Which happened less and less these days, ever since meeting the bard that refused to leave his side and was doing everything in his power to get Geralt to grow attached to him.

On the rare occasions that Jaskier was away, playing at some court or visiting his friends, Geralt found himself carving the little animals with more vigour than he had before he had met the bard, as if the scraping of the blade scratching over the wood was replacing the noise the bard was taking with him whenever he left. If Geralt were a man of pretty words and poetry he might have looked at the figures he carved to fill the silence left by his friend's absence and thought it poetic and meaningful in a way. But Geralt wasn't a poet. He was a witcher and witchers didn't give objects meaning. They didn’t grow attached. So he dropped the useless figures after finishing them on the forest floor and forgot about them. He didn't care about what happened to them. Didn’t care that he would never see them again. Until one day in early spring he found himself caring more than he'd ever thought possible.

Geralt had just closed his eyes, enjoying the thought of a quiet night of rest in an actual bed at an inn after a day of a brutal fight when the door was thrown open unceremoniously. Geralt cranked one eye open and shot a glare at the bard - dressed in obnoxious colours and with a smile that really shouldn't be so blinding - striding into the room. "You couldn't have knocked?" Geralt grunted, hoping his tone would hide the way his lips wanted to lift into a smile at the sight of his friend. The winter had been too long and if Geralt’s protesting muscles hadn’t made him aware of the movement he had made to get up, he would have probably tried to do something stupid like hug the bard. As it were, the only greeting Jaskier received after all the time spend apart was a grunt and a nod. Jaskier didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his face brightened at the familiar mannerisms. "I think we both know that if I had knocked you would have told me to fuck off. But now that you are in my wonderful presence you would never dare do that." "Jaskier," Geralt said, looking Jaskier deep in the eyes. "Fuck off." Jaskier threw his head back laughing. "Not a chance. We both know you're happy to see me." Geralt rolled his eyes but didn't deny the accusation. He couldn't tell if Jaskier noticed. His friend was too occupied putting his lute down and letting himself fall onto the bed with a content sigh. "Oh the joys of uncomfortable inn-beds," Jaskier groaned, running a hand down his face. "You are free to sleep on the floor," Geralt said with a bemused grin. "Aha!“ Jaskier shot back up and pointed a finger triumphantly at Geralt's nose. "So you do want me to share the room with you!" Of course I do. Geralt huffed and crossed his arms. "You wouldn't leave no matter what I said." Somehow Jaskier's smile got even brighter and Geralt's mouth went dry. "You know me too well, dear friend." Geralt hummed non-committally. Jaskier seemed to take it as a sign to start unpacking. Geralt leaned back and listened with closed eyes to the sound that had become routine; the noise of Jaskier bustling about, of the fabric of his night clothes unfolding, of Jaskier chattering away as he found the best spot to put his lute. It all sounded painfully like returning someplace safe.

For a foolish moment Geralt let himself imagine that they weren't at an inn, but in a place they could call home. The illusion and the routine were disrupted by a noise that didn't belong to their normalcy; the dull thud of wood on wood. Geralt opened his eyes again. His breath got stuck on his throat when he saw what Jaskier had put on the night stand. It was a chunky wooden figure of a bear, the wood unpolished and weakened by rain. The craftsmanship was clumsy at best and Geralt knew exactly why: because this figure had been carved with a dagger I stead of the appropriate carving tools. More specifically, Geralt's dagger. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the little bear. His little bear. No, not his. He had no use for these kinds of things. They didn't mean anything to him after he left them in the woods to rot. And yet... The thought of Jaskier having found one of them didn't sit right with Geralt. It did something strange and uncomfortable to his chest. It shouldn't bother him as it did, but he couldn't help but wish Jaskier had never seen Geralt's clumsy attempts at crafting something beautiful. Not when Jaskier himself was a master of creating beautiful things; weaving flower crowns with clever fingers and spinning tales and songs with his silver tongue. Geralt's eyes flickered up to Jaskier who had gone strangely still. Their eyes met and for a terrifying moment Geralt was certain Jaskier knew. He knew that Geralt was the one who had made this imperfect thing that wasn't worth picking up and Jaskier was mocking him with it. Geralt's stomach clenched painfully and he was overcome with the sudden need to flee. But then Jaskier's eyes crinkled with his brilliant smile and a wave of giddy excitement rolled off of him. "It's pretty isn't it?" Jaskier said and took the figure in hand again, holding it up as if to inspect it more closely. "I can't believe I finally found one too." Geralt stared at him dumbfounded. "Too?" "Why of course. Sometimes I think I'm the only one who hasn't been blessed by the forest spirits." Geralt's brows drew together. Jaskier must have noticed his confusion - or maybe he was just happy to talk and have Geralt listen - for he began to explain with shining eyes. "Those figures appear all over. Mostly in forests but sometimes they appear on the road as well. People have been finding them for decades. Have you never noticed how people put them on mantle pieces or carry them with them for protection?" Geralt schooled his face into neutral expression while his mind was racing. He had never intended for anyone to find his carvings. He had never wanted anyone to find them. They were... They didn't mean anything. There was no reason for people - for Jaskier - to get so excited about them. "They say that it's the fae's way of showing their favour,” Jaskier continued, unaware of Geralt’s inner turmoil. “The figures bring luck to those who find them. Well, at least that's one version of the tale. Over in Brugge they say that the figures are charmed and protect the bearer. One of my old teachers in Oxenfurt always said that someone who finds a wooden animal in the woods is bound to get together with their true love within a year. I always liked that version the best. What do you think, is this the year I finally get my true love?"

Jaskier winked at Geralt and nudged him playfully in the ribs. Geralt's mouth went dry and he forced himself to look away from the way Jaskier's eyes lit up. He told himself the only reason why his stomach was churning was because Jaskier would be disappointed when he realised that there was no magic in these carvings. It had nothing to do with the thought of Jaskier finding someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with and leave Geralt for them. "Fae would never show their favour to humans. If those things," he nodded his chin to the bear, "were made by the fae they would probably bear a curse. And they would be prettier," he added in a tone that wasn't meant sound that bitter. Jaskier gasped outraged and clutched the bear to his chest as if that could protect it. "How dare you!" he half-shouted in a voice if utter indignation. "I'll have you know that my little bear is perfect. And it does bring luck. After all, I found you mere hours after finding it." Jaskier lifted his chin triumphantly as if he had won an argument. Geralt huffed. "You call that lucky?" It came out more as a grumble than the playful tone he had aimed for. Geralt hadn't meant it to sound so dismissive, but it was better than letting the softness that rose up in him at Jaskier’s words creep into his voice instead. "Yes I do," Jaskier said with a finality that didn't allow any more protests. "And I would appreciate it if you could stop scowling at it as if you wanted to smash it." Geralt turned away with a shrug that looked more nonchalant than he felt. "I don't care what happens to it," he repeated the thoughts he had had so many times before and that for the first time might be a lie, "It's just a piece of wood. Nothing special about it." "I beg to differ. It's quite special to me." There was something in the way Jaskier said it so softly that made it hard to breath. Something unpleasant squirmed in Geralt's chest. He risked another glance at Jaskier who was looking down at the figure in his hand as if it was something to be treasured. It shouldn't feel so nice to have Jaskier hold something Geralt had made and look at it as if it was precious. It felt as if Geralt had given him a gift. Except, if Geralt actually had done that Jaskier wouldn't look at the figure with shining eyes. He wouldn’t smile like that if he knew who it really was from. No one wanted a gift from a witcher. Least of all Jaskier who had admirers sending him expensive doublets, bottles of wine and other luxuries a witcher wouldn’t be able to afford in his wildest dreams. Anything Geralt would have been able to offer Jaskier would have been nothing in comparison. So Geralt did the only thing he could and always pushed the thought of buying Jaskier nice things as far away from his mind as possible. Trying to gift Jaskier beautiful things that might make him happy was bound to fail for someone like Geralt. But here was Jaskier, stroking a finger absentmindedly over the wood as if it was polished and smooth. Geralt cleared his throat. "I'm glad you like it then." That seemed to content Jaskier, for he rewarded Geralt with a dazzling smile and put the little figure back in the nightstand right in Geralt's line of vision. Jaskier probably did it out of some sense of petty smugness, but as night fell and the little bear that for some reason meant so much to Jaskier watched over them, Geralt couldn't help but feel warm. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't so bad if his figures had found their way to a poet after all who could give meaning to them. Maybe sometimes tall tales of fae gifts and blessings from forest spirits helped bring a smile to a bard’s face and bring him some happiness that Geralt wouldn’t have been able to give him otherwise.

Next to him Jaskier turned over in his sleep and pressed his forehead against the space between Geralt’s shoulder blades, sighing contently. Under the curtain of the night Geralt allowed himself a little smile.

Maybe sometimes it wasn’t so bad to get attached after all.

#I'll probably write a second chapter #maybe #geraskier #geraltxjaskier #geralt #jaskier #witcher #witcher fic #fanfic #my writing

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 22

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!”

Auld Lang Syne erupts from the speakers at the Gunmen’s, everyone finding someone, or something, to kiss. Scully smiles at the sight of Missy and Byers, snuggled in the corner of the couch smirking around a series of small pecks, whispering something to each other meant only for their ears.

“Sorry, poorly timed bathroom break,” Mulder says as he approaches, putting one hand at the small of her back and the other across her shoulders as he dips like he’s a sailor returning from sea. She squeals, then kisses him in earnest with her hands cradling his face, stopping only when Frohike suggests they get a room. They straighten up, her palms on his chest as his rest just above her tailbone. She beams up at him, optimistic and excited to embark on 1998 as a team. What a difference a year makes, she thinks to herself.

“Happy New Year, Scully,” he says with an affectionate smile.

“Happy New Year, Mulder.”

———

“Ugh, do we have to go?” she whines, curled up on the couch under a blanket.

“Do we have to go to your birthday party? I’m thinking yes,” he says, crouching down next to her.

“I’m sleepy,” she says, tugging on his hand, “let’s take a nap.”

He sighs. “That sounds very enticing, but you already took a nap today and we have to be at your mom’s in forty-five minutes.”

She makes a face. “Fine, but she better have coffee made.”

“She always does,” he replies, pulling her to her feet. “But drinking coffee at 6:00 pm is probably why you’re so tired in the first place. You’re not sleeping well at night.”

She gives him a deadpan expression. “I totally missed you getting your doctorate in medicine, Mulder. You hid it so well.”

He gives her a playful slap on the butt. “Get going, little lady, we’re gonna be late.”

There’s dinner, cake, and a small set of gifts. Missy and Byer’s give her a very fancy set of bubble bath and bath salts, while Charlie opts for a VHS of Weekend at Bernies, which she begrudgingly admits is one of her favorites. Mom gives her two tickets to see Chicago live on Broadway, and insists that she won’t be upset if Dana takes Mulder instead of her. She opens Mulder’s gift last, having already warned him that if it were something inappropriate to open in front of her family, she would punish him profusely. He insisted it was totally safe, so she accepts the large flat rectangular package from him with only a hint of skepticism. She tears the paper away to find a large frame, nearly the size of a poster, with a dark blue circle occupying most of the framed area. Within the circle is a series of white dots and lines of varying sizes. Beneath it is a date and set of coordinates.

May 29, 1996

38.5313718, -77.4456233

She feels her throat constrict with emotion and bites her lip to try and stave off the tears.

“What does it mean?” Missy asks.

“It’s a constellation map,” Byers answers, “it shows the night sky on a specific date and at a specific location. Those are coordinates.”

“For where?” Missy inquires further.

“Quantico,” Scully answers tightly, standing to thread her arms around Mulder’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he gives her a little squeeze.

“It was written in the stars, Scully,” he whispers back, then holds her while her mother clears the dishes and everyone retreats to the living room.

An hour later, Mulder and Maggie stand at the kitchen sink, washing and drying the dishes while Scully sips a cup of coffee at the counter, her chin resting on her fist.

“Can we go soon, Mulder? I’m exhausted,” she says with drooping eyelids.

“Of course, whatever the birthday girl wishes is my command,” he replies, running a dish towel around the perimeter of a plate.

“Are you okay sweetie, you getting sick?” Maggie asks with a concerned furrow of her brow.

“No, Mom, I’m fine. I’ve just been exhausted lately, no matter how much sleep I get.”

Maggie cocks her head at her daughter. “When’s the last time you had your period, Dana?”

“I don’t get a period, pleasant side effect of my birth control,” she says with a hint of annoyance.

“And you haven’t missed a pill, or whatever?” Maggie clarifies.

“It’s a shot, and I got one in December, I’m not due to get another until next month,” she replies, resting her forehead on the counter.

There is a long silence. Long enough that she lifts her head to see what’s causing it. Mulder is staring at her with wide eyes, his mouth slightly open, and Maggie is staring at Mulder like she’s just come to some kind of realization.

“What?” Scully asks, “you’re freaking me out.”

“I was supposed to remind you to reschedule your appointment in December,” he says softly, his breathing very shallow.

She sits up straighter. “No, Mulder, I got my shot right before we went to California for Christmas.” Even as she tries to convince them all that it’s not what Maggie is suggesting, her face is contorting into one of fear.

“You had an emergency autopsy,” he says quietly, “Trudy was out. You missed it.”

“Oh god,” she says, her mind reeling. “Oh my god.”

“I’m going to give you two some privacy,” Maggie says, exciting the kitchen.

Mulder comes around to her side of the counter, placing a palm in the middle of her back. “Scully?” he asks, though he’s not sure what the question is.

“We need to go to the store,” she says flatly, shifting into problem-solving mode. “We need to pick up a pregnancy test.”

———

They are perched on the edge of the bathtub, the test sitting face-down on the counter next to the sink.

“How long has it been?” she asks, and Mulder checks his watch again.

“Four minutes,” he answers, squeezing her hand.

She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“What if it’s positive?” she asks quietly.

“Then...we have a baby,” he answers.

She looks at him and he gives her a small smile. She tries to smile back but her chin puckers and turns it into a grimace.

“Okay,” she finally responds.

Mulder checks his watch again.

“It’s been five minutes,” he says, “do you want to look, or do you want me to?”

She closes her eyes.

“You look. One line is negative, two lines is positive. Even if the second line is very faint, it’s positive if there are two.”

“Okay,” he says, moving to the counter.

She opens her eyes to watch him as he picks up the test and turns it over. His face is unreadable as he places it back on the counter and walks over to the tub, kneeling on the floor between her knees. He brings his hands to her hips and looks up at her with a gentle expression, then leans forward and presses his lips to her belly.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, tears pooling in her eyes.

He pulls back and takes her hands in his.

“It’s okay, Scully. Maybe it’s not perfect timing, but I love you and I’m excited to have a baby with you.”

She looks at him incredulously. “You are?”

He smiles at her. “Of course. I’ve thought about us having kids someday hundreds of times. I just always figured it would be a little further in the future.”

She gives him a pained smile through her tears, draping her arms around his neck.

“We’re going to have a baby,” she says out loud for the first time.

“We’re going to have a baby,” he repeats.

That night in bed, she lies awake for a long time, the shock of the news overriding her fatigue.

“I can feel you thinking,” Mulder grumbles from behind her.

“Sorry,” she answers over her shoulder.

He pushes his chin into the crook of her neck, his arm slinging over her waist.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks softly.

“Just the future. What’s going to happen next. Where the hell we’re going to fit a baby and all it’s crap in this apartment.”

“We might have to move,” Mulder offers.

“Even if we do, should we rent someplace bigger? Should we buy a house? Would your name or mine be on the deed? Speaking of names, will the baby have your last name or mine? I can picture my mother’s church friends gossiping about the poor bastard child with a different last name than his mother,” she rambles.

Mulder is quiet for a moment.

“We could get married,” he says with the same casualness as suggesting pizza for dinner.

She freezes. “No, Mulder,” she says coldly.

“Why not?” he asks, pulling away and gently rolling her onto her back so he can see her face.

She shakes her head glumly. “I got married for the wrong reasons once. I’m not going to do it again.”

“What’s the wrong reason?” he asks sincerely.

“Getting married because you’re pregnant is about the most standard wrong reason to get married I can think of, Mulder.”

“I don’t want to marry you because you’re pregnant, Scully,” he implores, resting his hand on her stomach. “I want to marry you because I love you.”

“The timing of the question suggests otherwise,” she counters, and his face contorts into a wounded expression. “Mulder, I’m not saying no forever, I’m just saying not right now. We’re about to go through a lot, I’m going to be insane with hormones, and then give birth and feel fat and awful with a crying newborn and will probably resent you-“

“Well with that attitude,” he cuts her off, though his tone is lighthearted.

She rolls to her side to face him, clutching his hands to her chest.

“Ask me again later, Mulder, when we’ve survived this. When you’ve seen me huge and then deflated and unshowered and weepy. If you still think you want to marry me after seeing me at my absolute worst, ask me again.”

“Okay,” he says, planting a kiss to her forehead. “I will.”

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

[myluciferiscody]

Class Fight (p.3)

pairing: teen!dandy mott x teen!reader

word count: 3,559

warnings: language, jealous dandy, slightly au!dandy, all characters are 18

part 1 part 2

1.

You led Dandy into your bedroom, gently clicking the door shut as to not alert your mother. She trusted you, but the motherly instincts couldn't be helped when it came to safety with boys. Dandy glanced around your room, having not been up here since you were in elementary school. He noticed you still had the teddy bear he gifted you in fifth grade when you fell and scraped your knee so severely it required stitches.

You wasted no time, turning around as he took a seat on your bed, "I need an explanation from you!" you said, giving him a glare as he smirked at you. "Dandy, why are you causing fights with my friends?"

"You two really are friends, then?" he asked, very pleased with your answer. "I don't see us coming to an agreement with what I have to say."

You crossed your arms, your glare worsening as Dandy just smirked at you. You tried not to be distracted by the fact he was starting to grow into his looks, and you were beginning to notice. "That's not fair."

"Of course it isn't, but neither is life, y/n." he shrugged. "I don't regret what I did. I never liked Jason, we're rivals by default."

You frowned, "What are you talking about?"

Dandy stared at you, wiping his hands on his clean pants. "You don't remember the story? The Deans and the Motts were business partners before we were born. Jason's father stole ideas and were selling them someplace else. Ended up losing the lawsuit after my father found out. Not long after, your grandfather helped grow our business, and eventually yours."

Of course, how could you forget such an essential detail in your family history? It was only ingrained in you since birth. Despite the temporary setback, the Deans found their fortune in cars. Frozen foods weren't their strong suit, it seemed.

"Jason isn't his father," you defended him, coming to take a seat next to Dandy. "That's not fair to him."

"And I'm not my father," Dandy countered. "I go way back with Jason, y/n. Neither of us ever liked each other, and not for reasons due to our parents. He's a stuck up, spoiled brat."

You thought it was funny that Dandy, of all people, could call another person a spoiled brat. You knew he changed plenty since you were kids, but he was always the one kid in the entire grade who had a tantrum once a day in each class.

"It's not fair to me!" you said, springing back up. "I don't pretend to like everybody, Dandy. However, I don't want my relationships to suffer because two of my friends hate each other. If Jason had ulterior motives I have yet to see them!"

Dandy laughed loudly, and you found yourself with the same unamused expression as before. He didn't falter at your glare, instead grinning widely and standing up, easily towering over you.

"y/n, I don't talk to a lot of people. You know that." he approached you, and you stood your ground, feeling your legs become jelly at his close proximity. "And because of it I hear everything that is said in that school. If I wasn't concerned about you, I would have punched the shit out of him just for the shoes he was wearing yesterday."

"What about what I want?" you questioned, causing him to arch an eyebrow. "I never said I was interested in him. If he thinks something is going to come out of this, he's wrong."

Dandy nodded, smiling at you. You felt chills run down your spine as his eyes twinkled with curiosity. "I like your attitude. You always knew how to take care of yourself."

You nodded slowly, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth. "I guess you taught me a thing or two growing up."

The silence between you was deafening. You noticed Dandy's jawline was more pronounced than you remembered. Dandy realized your lips were fuller than before.

"y/n, I want you to promise me that you'll come to me if you change your mind." he said, and you could hear the genuine concern in his voice. "I don't trust him, but I trust you."

You nodded; however, any thought of Jason was pushed to the back of your mind.

Dandy smirked at you and took a few steps backward. "I'm afraid I have to go."

You blinked, realizing that he had you where he wanted you. You glared at him as he headed to your door before turning to look at you.

"You're still not going?" he asked, a rather smug look upon his face as he wiggled an eyebrow at you.

Before you could answer, Dandy walked out your door. You heard him descend the staircase, with a farewell to your mother, then the front door shut.

You sat on your bed, hand clutched to your chest as you silently begged for your heart to stop beating so fast. Your mother had appeared in your doorway after a few minutes, and she was grinning ear to ear.

"y/n, you still have time to make the dance." she gave you a knowing look before leaving.

You stared at yourself in the mirror across the room. You did have a few dresses with the tags still on them that would pass nicely as a formal gown.

"He wants me to go," you muttered to yourself. Dandy had been dressed nicely, but he always was. He was also soaking wet.

"But Jason might be upset.. But I'm mad at him too," you groaned, plopping down on your back. "What do I do?"

"You get the hell up and stop moping around!" you screamed, kicking your legs as Winter posed in the doorway, grinning at your reaction.

"Why are you here!?" you stood up, still panting from the scare.

"I started feeling better yesterday. Oh yeah, your mother called me and said you were having a crisis. So here I be!" she walked in the rest of the way, pulling a suitcase behind her.

"What is that?" you asked, your voice stern as she knelt on the floor, unzipping the bag. It was filled with makeup, professional kits like you were about to appear on television.

"Your plans canceled, so you're coming with me. I never got a date and with Zoe having a date, I'm not being the third wheel."

You watched her set up and realized this is why you were friends. Partying was okay on some occasions. You rarely went to school dances, to begin with. This was your Senior year. How often in the future would you get the chance to just let loose for a night?

"Okay." you shrugged, and Winter gave you a knowing smirk.

2.

You were excited until you arrived at the school in Winter's car.

The rain had since stopped, and she dragged you to the entrance of the school as couple upon couple poured into the double doors. You were nervous now, knowing that both Dandy and Jason were probably already inside. You weren't supposed to come tonight.

"y/n! It's fine, babe," Winter said, holding your hand as you finally kept pace with her brisk walking. "We'll have a good time."

"It's not really us I'm worried about," you replied, and Winter had a look on her face that told you she already knew what happened. Your mother.

"If it helps Jason is supposed to have a date tonight. Which means he's not your problem right now."

"It's so embarrassing.. Everyone knows about the fight, and people won't stop staring!" you said, glaring at a group of Junior girls who were watching you from a corner. They quickly diverted their eyes, and Winter scoffed as she pulled you into the gymnasium.

It was decorated nicely, a live band already taking stage as kids piled in and found empty seats, many running over to the food to get first dibs. Kyle and Zoe have yet to arrive.

You found a table, sitting down and taking a quick glance around. Your heart stopped when you saw Jason arrive with his arm looped with Madison Montgomery, the most popular girl in your grade.. and the entire school. They fit together almost too well.

"You weren't kidding," you commented to Winter, who shrugged.

"I know my gossip, y/n," she said.

It wasn't long before Kyle and Zoe joined you. Zoe was ecstatic at the sight of you, pulling you into a hug and whispering that she was happy you decided to come. It made you feel good.

You had sat back down, pulling a ballot from the small pile on the table. You completely forgot about Homecoming King and Queen nominations.

Boys:

Jason Dean

Kyle Spencer

Matthew Nylund

Dandy Mott

You paused, glancing across the room to see Jason staring directly at you. You immediately looked away, reading the girls' list.

Girls:

Madison Montgomery

Zoe Benson

Natascha Langdon

Violet Harmon

You pushed the ballot aside, already knowing who you were voting for. You were relieved your name wasn't on the list. It was funny; Dandy and Jason always seemed to be selected for nomination. As far as you knew, Jason won once.

Winter nudged your arm, and you looked at her with an arched brow. She nodded towards the dance floor where Zoe and Kyle were dancing and asked if you wanted to join her.

"In a bit," you replied. Winter smiled, nodding in understanding before standing up and pushing her chair in.

You avoided making eye contact with Jason, who was also dancing with Madison. Everyone already seemed to be having a good time. You were just observing, debating on if you truly wanted to be here or not. It seemed like a good idea at first, but now you remembered why you always felt so out of place.

You jumped when someone pulled out Winter's chair, and you breathed a sigh when Dandy sat down, already smirking as you glared at him.

"You did decide to show up," he commented, a rather accomplished look on his face.

"I wouldn't look too excited. Winter came over and convinced me to go." you said, only lying a tiny bit. Dandy picked up your forgotten ballot, his eyes reading over the names before setting it down. His eyes were sparkling, but you were positive it wasn't from seeing his own name.

"Who are you voting for?" he asked casually, also looking around the packed gymnasium, also looking very out of place. There was just something about the Mott family genes that stood out from everyone else.

"I think Zoe and Kyle deserve to win together," you shrugged, and you saw Dandy's lips twitching. "You voting for yourself?"

Dandy shrugged, a smile now touching his lips. "I haven't decided yet. I've never asked to be Homecoming King."

You chuckled, seeing Winter talking to a boy you didn't recognize. Zoe and Kyle were getting something to drink as the band started to play a slow song.

Dandy watched you quietly, his eyes flickering from Jason Dean to your face. He stood up, watching you look at him with interest and almost longing for him not to leave your side.

"Would you dance with me?" Dandy asked, holding his hand out to you.

You didn't hesitate to take it, almost embarrassingly so. Dandy didn't smirk or make a sarcastic comment. Instead, you walked hand-and-hand to the floor, turning to face each other as Dandy placed a hand on your waist. It brought back memories of you being children, both of your mothers having enrolled you in dancing lessons. You were never paired with Dandy, which he would have appreciated a lot more. He was forced to dance with the girls who could never get it right, causing him to throw a fit and claim he was the best dancer in the whole world.

The thought made you smile, shaking your head as Dandy watched you, wondering what was on your mind. You looked as beautiful as he had ever seen you, and you've always been attractive.

You were unaware that the kids were staring at you, some of them whispering the latest gossip, while others were either jealous or unwilling to admit they thought you two looked cute together. Zoe and Winter were giggling, sucking down their fruit punch with Kyle.

Jason had taken a seat next to Matthew while Madison went to the bathroom for a touch-up. Matthew was smirking, eating a plate full of cookies, while Jason did his best not to stare at you.

"I thought she wasn't coming?" Matthew teased him, sticking an entire cookie in his mouth.

"She wasn't," Jason responded sourly, crossing his arms.

"It sounds to me you've been rejected," Matthew grinned.

"y/n wouldn't lie," Jason said defensively, "Her plans were probably just canceled. It's fine, I'm thinking of asking Madison out."

Matthew rolled his eyes, knowing perfectly well he was jealous as fuck.

Dandy enjoyed having you in his arms, and you felt the same. You laid your head on his chest, and you completely forgot all the dancing couples and people around you. There was a safety that came with being around him that you couldn't exactly pinpoint why that was.

The song had ended, and you unwillingly pulled away from Dandy's warming embrace. The band immediately jumped into a fast-paced song. He wasn't pleased about this, but he was quick to pull you out of the way when a mob of screaming girls nearly stormed the stage.

"Y/N!" You gasped when Winter ran and gave you a hug, giggling wildly in your ear. "Watch out, someone spiked the punch- BYE!"

You stumbled over your feet as the boy with a rather interesting mustache whisked her away, both giggling hysterically as Dandy helped you keep your balance.

"Your friend is interesting." Dandy commented, a slight smile on his lips. He'd tolerate anyone you truly cared about.

"Yes she is," you sighed, finding yourself intertwining your fingers with Dandy. He kept his cool, wanting to give Jason Dean a middle finger to the face.

You had both eaten and got some punch, talking and ultimately enjoying yourself. You were thrilled you decided to come now, feeling like you weren't going to be alone the rest of the night. You danced with Zoe, while Kyle sat awkwardly at the table with Dandy for a break. Zoe whispered in your ear that Winter will be gone for the rest of the night before you both giggled.

In the middle of Jailhouse Rock, Principal Harmon grabbed the microphone, causing the boy band to lose their rhythm and many kids to boo.

"Alright, alright, its time to collect the ballots for King and Queen! Five minutes to get to your tables, complete the ballots, and then the Senior Student Committee will come around to collect them."

You followed Zoe back to the table, taking your seat as Dandy was folding his ballot. He handed you the pencil, and you almost hesitated as you filled it out. A part of you did want to vote for Dandy, but who would you pair him with? Madison Montgomery has tried digging her nails into him many times. Zoe would be a good fit, but she deserved to win with Kyle. Natascha openly despised him, and Violet probably hated that she was even nominated. Her disposition wasn't exactly sunny.

You ended up voting for Zoe and Kyle like you originally intended. Dandy peeked over your shoulder and seemed pleased with your nomination.

The ballots were quickly collected, and it took another fifteen minutes to accurately count them. The band hadn't returned to the stage. There was a lot of chattering about who voted for who.

You hadn't been paying attention to the table directly behind you. The girls who had been staring at you when you had arrived had been talking about you and Dandy. Dandy was listening, his hands clenching at the awful things they were saying about you. He was doing his best to not cause a scene on your behalf. It was bad enough he and Jason both had bruising that was a constant reminder to the students what already happened.

All the nominees had to go stand on the stage. Zoe looked uncomfortable, but you gave her a reassuring smile, which seemed to ease her mind. Winter sat next to you, and you gave her a questioning look. She only grinned and waved you off. Dandy stood next to Jason, both boys beat up but as handsome as ever.

Principal Harmon announced Madison as the Queen. She gushed while he placed the crown on her head, and the elderly receptionist placed a bouquet of roses in her arms. She beamed at the crowd, waving as if she were pure royalty. You and Winter clapped unenthusiastically, but you knew deep down Zoe wouldn't take it too hard.

"And for the King," Mr. Harmon said, opening the envelope. The silence was awkward, and you could feel the tension in the air. "Oh no-"

Mr. Harmon glanced around, his eyes settling on the student committee kids who only shrugged, nodding their approval.

"Well it seems we have a tie," he continued, scratching his head. "Dandy Mott and Jason Dean."

There was a ripple of laughter and disbelief as students yelled for a recount. Dandy was smirking, but Jason didn't look the least bit amused. Madison was pouting.

".. This has never happened in my twenty years of being principal," he said awkwardly into the mic. "Where do we go from here?"

"I back out," Dandy announced proudly.

"Oh! That was easy!" said Mr. Harmon, "In that case, I present to you, King Jason Dean!"

The crowd roared as he placed the crown on Jason's head. He smiled sheepishly, briefly meeting your eyes as Dandy and the others walked off the stage. Zoe and Kyle hugged, both smiling in good humor. Dandy sat beside you as Jason and Madison started their dance to Frankie Valli.

"That was kind of you," you whispered to Dandy.

"It's nothing, I could care less about winning."

Dandy put his arm around the back of your chair until their dance was over. They took a few pictures before the band returned back to the stage, promising a few more slow dances to all the couples before the night was over.

Winter gasped when Jason approached your table; Madison running to her friends and fawning over her flowers and tiara. He ignored Dandy entirely, focusing only on you.

"Could I have a word?" he asked kindly, offering his hand to you.

You nodded, feeling Dandy tense by your side. You placed your hand on his leg under the table in reassurance before taking Jason's hand, following him to the dance floor. You realized at that moment that you knew where your heart belonged.

"I was surprised to see you tonight," Jason said, bringing you in close.

"My plans didn't work out. Winter talked me into coming." you laughed nervously, and he smiled at you.

"I'm happy you came, we don't have many of these left, you know," he chuckled.

"I'm happy I came too," you replied before looking at him. "I'm sorry about everything."

Jason frowned, raising his eyebrows as he spun you around. "Why are you sorry?"

You shrugged, "I've known Dandy my entire life. He's very protective of me and I wish you two never got into that fight." You made your point by glancing around at the few people trying to catch glimpses of you.

"It's not your fault, y/n," Jason said in disapproval, "It was a misunderstanding, Matthew isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and doesn't think things through when he speaks. Mott just heard the worst of his ignorance."

"Well, I think it's safe to say it won't be happening again," you said, watching as Madison came back from the hallway, pouting at the sight of you. "I think Madison really likes you."

Jason glanced back, a smile on his face. "Is it too much to admit now I really like you too?"

You smiled shyly, "That's very sweet of you."

Jason nodded, "I think it's clear who you really like, and he's very lucky," he said, now watching as Dandy stared at the pair of you.

"Yeah.." you agreed, almost liking the jealous looks being thrown your way. "I hope we could still be friends."

Jason was pleased to hear that, and he promised to call you sometime after the song ended. You watched as he walked to Madison, whose eyes lit up at the sight of him. You quickly walked back to your table, pulling up Dandy, who was surprised by your urgency.

"Did he say something?" his nostrils flared, looking as if he was about to murder someone.

"Nope," you said before cupping his cheeks and pulling him down to meet your height. You kissed him deeply, and you heard Winter say, "Holy shit!" while Zoe squealed with her mouth full of cake.

Dandy pulled away, his hands on your waist as he blinked in surprise. You grinned, pulling him towards the doors as the group of girls watched you with their mouths hanging open.

"Sorry for your loss!" you chirped at them, smiling sweetly as Dandy followed you in a daze.

School drama just does not change.

taglist: @daisychainsinknots​

#dandy mott imagine #dandy mott x reader #ahs imagine #ahs freak show #american horror story