#Grow Taller Guaranteed

[hoshigray]

nanami x big ole freak for the people please 🙏

- megan anon

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: *smacks and slides hands together* yessirrrr! based on this ask + iconic song by queen Megan

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Nanami x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (f! + m! receiving) - fingering (f! receiving) - 69 + cowgirl + mating press positions - slight bondage; restriction of hands - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - clitoral play - orgasm denial - pet names ( baby, love, sweetheart) - reader lowhighkey a dom - implied fwb relationship.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

“Yo! Nanami~n, wanna hang out with me and Shoko tonight?”

“No thanks; I have something to get to.” 

“Ehhh, something or someone?” Gojo looks over the shoulder to see his subordinate is on the phone and, by the looks of it, texting another person. “C’mon tell me, is it a guy, girl, a curse—who got the attention of the reserved Mister Nanami Kento?”

“Gojo,” the blonde man shuts his snow-haired superior down while stuffing his phone into his tan suit. “It’s my business; don’t meddle in.” He turns with the sole of his foot and walks away, the whine of the taller other not fazing him.

Gojo snickers to himself while watching his peer stride away. “Wonder who's the lucky one who got that guy to finally live a little…”

It’s known to those around him that Nanami liked to keep to himself, even in matters outside of his work. There’s no need to mix business with pleasure—especially in his line of occupation where there’s no guarantee on the good side of things or fulfilling false promises to people you care about. He’d much rather keep the two separate, going to Jujutsu Tech and taking care of missions in a timely methodology as a grade one sorcerer and wind down in the comfort of his leisure time or home before repeating the process the next day. 

However, tonight would be one of those rare nights where he’d go elsewhere to mellow down…at someone else’s request, such as the person who messaged him to meet at a hotel and the one behind the door he knocks on before it’s opened.

You enter his vision with a grin. “There you are; I almost thought you didn’t get my text.”

“I did,” Nanami took off his goggles and stuffed them in his pockets. “Did you wait long?”

“Too long,” your hands are placed on his chest and slide to his sunken cheeks to cup. “I guess it’s better late than never, but you know I don’t like wasting my time, especially since you’re the one who summoned me.”

He brings a hand to yours to kiss your palm, and chocolate brown eyes pair with a tiny smirk. “Is it too late to make up for my tardy?”

Your smile grows broader with hooded eyes, and your face inches closer to his. “That depends on how fast your fine ass can get inside the damn room,” you whisper before claiming his lips, a spark between you two ignited within milliseconds.

The fair-headed man wastes no time, leading you back inside the hotel room and closing the door with his foot. Hands are instantly roaming each other’s bodies, yours undoing his tie and discarding it with his blazer while he unbuttons your blouse to slide down your shoulders and meet the floor, same with your pencil skirt. With his lips still locked on yours, Nanami gently lies you by the edge of the bed, spreading your stocking legs for more access to hover above you. Lust has your smooches driven for a needier connection, tongues invading each other’s cavity, and your legs wrapping around him as he rocks his hips to your figure.

You’re the first to break the kiss, biting his bottom lip with a tease. He sighs, “Is that fast enough for you?”

He makes you titter. “So attentive, aren’t you? But you know I want more than these nice lips to play with.”

Oh, he knows. Trust and believe, he does. 

“Ahhshhh…! Damn…feel so good, love.”

He throws his head back to the pillow, savoring the sense of your tongue lapping around the crown of his erect cock. His pants were now off of him, you mounted atop him, your ass facing his way while his groin was arranged before your face. 

His view was downright taken over with the sight of your butt and lacy panties swaying from side to side, all the while you were kissing and sucking on the skin of his dick. Your hands move to please him, one stroking his shaft in your grasp while the other fondles his balls with your pretty fingertips.

You suck on his cockhead and release with a soft ‘pop,’ his groan sweet to your eardrums. “Gosh, baby, you sound so pent up,” more licks to his glans jerk his hips, even when the kneads to his scrotum become firmer for the hand on your waist to get tighter. “Loosen up for me; I’ve been craving you like crazy all week...”

“Hnnmm, I can say the same for you, sweetheart,”eyes fixate on your underwear as he slides them to reveal your bare cunt. Seeing a trail of your excitement stick and glisten is no shock. “You seem to be tense yourself,” he brings a forefinger to your labia to lube with your excess fluid, and you hum with a bitten lip as he inserts the digit inside you to wiggle and scrape around. “Feel like it, too.”

“Hooooh,” You don’t hold back a moan—no need when indulging with this man. “Ahhh shit, yess, right there…”

“Yeah? You like this, baby?” He curls the finger with every pull before the push; your wails are too cute not to push for more. “Feels good?”

“Nnmmm…you know what would feel even better?” You peer over your shoulder, your orbs meeting mocha ones as you nudge him with the hit of your toes. “Shutting up and using that handsome face of yours.” Your batted, innocent eyes don’t match the vulgar display of your hips in front of Nanami. Yet he doesn’t scold you, just accepting you with a chuckle while pulling you in. A shiver dances up your spine at the contact of his wet muscle on your chasm, stirs to your clit, and nestling between your folds powers the desire. 

“Ohhh, yesss, just like that, Ken,” you praise before hallow cheeks take in his dick back into your mouth. Muffled sounds of contentment are felt on his cock, and it only pushes him to ravage your sensitive area even more.

However, this is nothing compared to the real deal moments later. 

Nanami knows how much you love to be in control—he’s been with you enough to understand that you’re serious when you need your fix. So, he has no room to refute you when you tie his hands above his head with his necktie and straddle above his lying frame. Yet again, no complaints came from the blonde man. After all, he is the one who has you here in the first place.

He lays on the bed, moaning below as you bounce up and down on his pelvis. For the second time that night, you were riding him down to the point, shrilling euphorically as your hips did the work for your satisfaction. You’re in complete control of the scene: the pace, the speed, the angle, the entire show. 

You lean forward, and the angle and motion of your lower region frequent the presses of your clitoris. “Fuuuhick, ohhhshiiit…!”

Neat golden hair is now untidy; strands cover and stick to his forehead. But that doesn’t obstruct the erotic view of you plunging his length into your aching slit, which has him swallowing thickly with a heated face. “Hnngh! Shit, so tight...”

“Haaaah, ahahaaa, feelin’ good, Kento?” You tease, leaning backward to clamp onto his girth. His dick rubs on the upper wall of your vagina and brushes to your G-spot resulting in your howling. “—Ooohhh, my God, yessss!” There’s no way you wouldn’t be clenching on him like crazy like this!

Makeshift bondage be damned, the man can’t help but buck his pelvis with your movements; the snug of your walls around him are difficult to resist and fuel him to chase the orgasm he’s been wanting all this time, and he can only thank for the condom that shields you from each other’s bare touch—or else his patience would’ve worn thin the round before. 

It’s borderline torture to watch you finger your clit and milk him with his hands bound; he wishes to touch you so badly. And you can see right through him, tittering as you come to a stop and remove yourself from him. He groans at the cold feeling of the air, substituting your warmth. However, that’s changed when you bend to untie his hands and get off his legs.

“C’mon, Kento,” you wet your lips, lying on your back and pulling your legs up. Knees to your chest and your wet cunt instigating an invitation. “Your turn to take care of me.”

God, you were intoxicating, your words making him hot in that dress shirt of his. That’s why he sighs with a scoff as he unbuttons to let his chest and abdomen breathe, aligning his length to join you again.

“I’ll do just that, love.”

© 𝐇𝐨��𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[demonic0angel]

Liminality Headcanons (click for clarity)

I saw a video that was talking about how uncomfortable and creepy really attractive people with no imperfections were on the internet and described them as “uncanny”, and I had the reaction of an alpha werewolf during the full moon 😀

That is EXACTLY how I want Jazz to look like!! Like she’s beautiful, gorgeous, whatever you want to call her, but she’s also so creepy like a realistic painting or a horror movie demon has possessed a pretty girl. I want her so beautiful that she gives you a bad feeling when you stare at her for too long.

So all of these sketches was drawn around Jazz lmao.

More notes on my ideas on liminality bc otherwise, I’ll just write about Jazz for several hundred words lmao:

+ I have mentioned it before, but I like it when the DP and DC world are separated (bc it lets me worldbuild two worlds! :D) so as such, liminals from both worlds are slightly different, but they can have overlapping abilities and similarities. DC liminals are more likely to have volatile tempers, better physical senses, quicker healing capabilities, and more sensitive/fragile mental states. DP liminals are more likely to have ‘meta’ abilities/powers, are more likely to become ghosts, often have ‘cartoony logic’ levels of physical abilities (more springy joints, can jump farther/higher, punch harder, but this is only at random intervals and cannot be guaranteed), and are also usually more well-adjusted bc the DP world is heavily saturated with ectoplasm so they are used to its effects.

+ I hc that ghosts feed on fear and negative emotions. Liminals are also similar, but they feed unconsciously, so they adapt accordingly by growing stronger, taller, bigger, longer, with more features to spread subtle fear amongst the people around them and feed themselves.

+ Jazz has longer limbs than a normal person would have :3 rather than being just tall, she is simply long.

+ Danny is unexpectedly the most ‘normal’ looking of all halfas, but I like to imagine that bc he’s so powerful, he subconsciously hides himself and as such, looks unassuming. He doesn’t need to be fearsome bc he doesn’t need to feed himself much when he’s so strong. Bc of this, he looks like two different people when transformed, since his ghost side is far more liminal and uncanny looking than when he’s human.

+ I hc that liminals are pack creatures. Alone, they’re creepy and uncanny as a defense mechanism, but when together, they look more ‘human’ when they relax. I feel like this can work in both DP and DC worlds. (Jason is a creepy shit when he’s Red Hood alone, while Danny hides himself amongst Tucker and Sam.)

+ There are many ways to become a liminal, but all involve ectoplasm in varying amounts.

+ Due to being predators that prey on humans, liminals and ghosts can often behave in animalistic ways. Specifically, they act somewhat like cats at times. An example is the tapetum lucidum, which is an extra layer of film that can be found over a cat’s eyes that let them see in low lighting. This also makes their eyes glow when light shines on it, and I also want liminals to have that :3

+ Idk if you guys noticed that I draw the Dannies' tongues purplish, but yeah, it's on purpose.

[2ndkaiser]

RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS WITH PRE-CRASH CURLY ★

Contains: SFW, fluff, general dating headcanons

Warnings: None (?)

⟡ ݁₊ . Notes: I’m still trying to get used to writing, home this is your cup of tea. Side note, this is assuming both of you are on earth and sharing a house. Not proofread.

What dating Curly would be like..

Human heater. Winters aren’t a problem for you anymore, but this means summers are unbearable for him, you’ll most likely find him standing in front of the AC on hot days.

We all know he’s often away because of his job, so he scatters sticky notes with unfunny dad jokes or just caring messages on them around the house.

Despite how fluorescent the little pages are, you rarely find them from how well he hides them — behind the coffee machine, inside the fridge, bathroom ceiling. . .list goes on

He just wants to remind you that he still thinks about you even from a few planets away.

Really, really beefy. He’s not a complete ball of muscle rolling around though, he’s in between being jacked and having a few pudgy parts like his tummy.

But that just makes him a good cuddler. His body isn’t rock hard and he isn’t going to poke you with his bones, plus, he’s all nice and warm so he often encourages you to lay on his chest or cuddle up to him.

Massive guy. Not an unrealistic type of big, but he’s still big. I headcanon him to stand a little taller than 6’2, so 189cm roughly. He knows he’s tall which is why he would purposely place things he knows you’ll need on the highest shelf, just so you can ask him for help. He’ll effortlessly take it off the shelf for you with a smug grin.

He loves when you rely on him. Acts of service typa guy.

Learnt how to crochet so he could make you gifts. Will definitely grow old to be a sweet grandpa that crochets by the fireplace when his grandchildren visit.

A total family guy. Has a colossal family tree and he still loves every single person. He’s the type of uncle that sneaks his nieces and nephews to get ice cream when they weren’t supposed to have any. Brings you along to Thanksgiving and Christmas with his family every year.

Every January he goes on a family vacation to Japan for some skiing, and with you in the picture, he gets you to tag along as well. During these trips, it’s guaranteed you’ll fall head first and slide down the snowy hill which as your significant other, Curly has to save you every single time. (He ends up crashing down with you too.)

Eat up Curly fry lovers. Tried my best with this one but it kinda lacks creativity. Pity me please…

Requests are opened

[that-hippie-user]

Without hypnosis, how would you encourage someone to become a diaper-addicted bedwetter? What’s the best argument you could make to win them over?

i'd like to answer this in the form of a ramble. no hypnosis, no traps, no triggers. literally just a lesson from me to you. click below if you're curious.

some folks describe the world we're in as one that tries to fit you into a mold, to shape you a desired way.

but a mold is a very simple process, pour liquid substance into a vessel with the desired shape, let it solidify, and its done. taking an otherwise shapeless thing and giving it shape in a very easy way.

life is not a mold, but an extruder.

a length of meterial is sent down a tube, which itself gradually shifts from the original shape, to the desired one.

the process is gradual, the material shapes itself almost as if it were meant to, but it's being guided to that shape by the tunnel its in.

you werent given a role from the start and made to fit it, you were gradually acclimated to that role until it became normal.

its the small things. being corrected on how you sit, or how loud your voice is, or telling you to stop tapping your feet, or saying particular interests dont fit your role.

i used to naturally cross my legs, i had an interest in pink, i loved made for dvd cartoons like strawberry shortcake or tinker bell. turned out i was transgender, and the role of "boy" was one i was shaped to be through peer pressure.

now, what does this have to do with diapees?

put simply, you NEVER had a say in potty training.

kids often have no say in a lot of things, its taken for granted that a kid needs guidance if they're gonna be safe in this world. but potty training is a universal lesson.

how did YOU react at the time? to being told you have to "graduate" from diapers. were you agreeable? upset? did you try to rebel? it doesnt matter, all roads lead to you being potty trained.

its so deeply ingrained in our society its practically a core foundation. think about this for a moment, KINDNESS is not mandatory. sure, as a kid you're taught to share and care, but how many people do you know who carried that into adulthood? in fact, in a capitalist sense, kindness is a weakness to the goal of profit.

so, we live in a world where you CANNOT under ANY circumstance choose to be diapered, unless you "need" to, like, if there is no alternative. and yet you can live life as the biggest jerk in history and you're not even guaranteed a reprimand for it.

and yet... everyone ALSO agrees that being a kid is the best thing in the world, and you should enjoy it while you can because it wont last, you cant go back to that.

and that much IS true... but you CAN go back in some ways.

oh sure, you WILL grow up. lessons get learned, fears develop, motor function improves, your body gets taller and stronger, and your brain naturally develops as it goes, that much is ALL true...

but... you CAN still wear diapers... in fact, it almost seems like you're gently encouraged to? cuz like... every store with a pharmacy has a nearby section for adult diapers, they got ENTIRE ISLES of diapers. in every size you'd need.

because as much as society tries to tell us diapers are meant to be left behind, we cant deny that sometimes they are necessary, stores NEED these if they can have them.

and if thats the case... if systems are in place for people to wear diapers... what exactly is wrong with using them?

and furthermore, its probably the ONE holdover from childhood you can always go back to.

no matter how big you get, you cant change one universal fact. diapers exist, they have an intended function, and you CAN use them, if you are brave.

and if you do? you're being a TRUE rebel, moreso than most really. you're doing the ONE thing adults must NEVER do, the thing that potty training was MADE for.

if you wear and use diapees, you are choosing to reject an instinct of adulthood in favor of your own personal rebellious joy, and that is BADASS.

and why shouldnt you? if gender is a social construct, then so is growing up. you CAN redefine what it means to you. you can decide for yourself what it means.

and if you do... you ALSO have the option... to take it FURTHER.

because you know... training like that can be UNDONE too.

not fully, mind, your body now has the ability to know when it needs to go, that much stays.

buuuuut. your ability to hold it CAN be undone.

;3 and thats not even hypnosis, all you have to do is use your diapees! X3 im not joking, peeing yourself outside of a bathroom scenario gives your body and brain permission to do it elsewhere.

UwU and with time... it gets harder to hold it. ;3 how long does it take?

3 WEEKS

3 weeks of continued diaper use is all it takes to lose control.

but why? why lose control? what point is there is making you wet yourself? (or mess if thats your thing. X3 its certainly mine!)

because if using diapers is rebellion, then unpotty training is FREEDOM

its the ultimate middle finger to the training you were given, a sound rejection of the thing you were taught is most important.

and once you reject that... the skies the limit!

do you have any idea how much CONFIDENCE it takes to willingly make yourself a puddlepants?

if you're willing to do that, no force on this earth can stop you. gender? redefine it as you please. fashion? you wear diapers for underwear, wear whatever you want. hobbies? passions? do what you like! ;3 not like bathroom breaks can stop you anymore.

so go nuts! have fun! live life on YOUR terms.

diapers are fun, diapers are soothing, diapers are freeing, and diapers are YOURS to wear.

be free, be a mushtush!

[slasherx]

Gurl you write so fast like a Machine 😂, I wish I could write like that, and also good luck with your finals!

Can I do a request for A Micheal Myers with a childhood crush (female) like as a kid Michael had a crush on the reader but like after he killed they were separated for years but them micheal broke out and came across the reader all grown up if you can!

Also can you do Rz Michael, he's my favorite

Lol thats cause I have the motivation to write about slashers rn. And thank you! I got a 94% on one of them, but I won't get my final grade on the other one for a bit. I hope I pass.

Content: Michael Myers x fem!Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, obsessive love

Notes: Even though the gif is peepaw Myers, this takes place in the RZ universe

• ───────────────── •

Michael was put away in the asylum when he was ten. Before he made a vow to never speak again, he kept asking his mother and Dr. Loomis where you were, and if you could come visit him. His mother promised to talk to your parents about it, but that she couldn't guarantee you could come see him.

And so she did. She tried talking to your parents, but your parents wanted you nowhere near that monster of a child. They outright refused her on numerous occasions, even when Michael's mother pleaded with them on her knees at their front door.

When she broke the news to Michael that you wouldn't be seeing him, Michael lost it. He could feel something in his head snap, the same way it snapped when bullies would hurt you or him. Or the same way he felt himself snap that Halloween night.

He managed to keep it cool until Dr. Loomis and his mother left, but when they sent in that nurse to watch him until they could escort him to his room, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He took his plastic fork and jammed it into her throat, cutting her scream short. He was angry. Why wouldn't you come see him? Why? Why, why, why? He didn't understand...he thought you were best friends.

• ───────────────── •

Eight years after that day, he had a visitor that wasn't Dr. Loomis. He had known his mother killed herself, his sister was dead, and Boo was probably far away in the foster care system, so he had hoped it was you.

When they sat him in the room, he had felt anxious for the first time in years. Had you changed like he had? Did you grow out your hair like him? Grown taller like him? He kept a mask on, one he made in rememberance of you. It was just your favorite color all over it.

Finally, you walked in and sat down across from Michael. A couple guards stood at the door, in case Michael tried to leap at you regardless of his cuffs chaining him to the table. He was breathing heavily - you had changed.

You had grown taller, but you remained shorter than him. Now at eighteen, you seemed very mature for your age, and Michael wanted to leap across the table at you, but not to kill you.

"Hi Michael. My parents don't know I'm here. I just...came to provide an explanation, since I feel you deserve one." You spoke, hands in your lap. "Your mother begged my parents to let me see you on many occasions, and each time they told her no. I remember one time she cried and got on her knees to beg my mother, but she just shut the door in her face."

Michael listened, quiet as ever. He was just happy to see you in front of him again. He was also surprised that Dr. Loomis wasn't here to supervise this meeting.

"And I want you to know that Dr. Loomis has contacted me since I turned eighteen, and we've spoken about you a couple of times. He told me you don't speak anymore, and that you killed a nurse while being in here." You decided it was now or never to try and break his vow of silence. "Is...is that true, Michael?"

Michael wanted to break his silence, but he knew Loomis would be on his ass if he did. So all he did was nod his head yes.

You seemed to shift uncomfortably. Your breathing increased, and he could tell you were scared. This saddened him - he didn't want you to be scared of him, he wanted you to love him. You two were attached to each other as children, why would a few murders make this any different?

"I...think I better go before my parents realize I'm not at my friends house." You started to get up, when Michael launched at you and grabbed your wrist, straining the cuffs on him.

He held you hard, and you could see the desperation in his eyes. He was all alone here. But he still killed those people, and if you weren't careful, you'd be next. The guards moved forward and forced Michael back, and a few more people rushed into the room. One rushed to you and put his hands on your shoulders.

"Ma'am, ma'am, are you alright?" The man asked.

You nodded. "Yeah, thank you." It was too fast for you to process it, but Michael was staring at you. "Please, take me out of here."

• ───────────────── •

Now outside, you saw Dr. Loomis by your car. He was pacing, clearly nervous about your meeting with Michael. Then when he saw you approach, he waved to you.

"How did it go?"

"Please don't talk to me. I shouldn't have come here." You responded shakily.

"What happened in there? Did he break his silence?"

"No, but he fucking grabbed me! Who knows what else he would have done if the guards hadn't been there?! I was crazy to even come here." You opened your car door and got inside.

"Please, wait, (Y/n). You don't know how much you mean to Michael, I-"

"Save it, Dr. Loomis. I'm going home. Stop calling me." You started up your car and peeled out of the parking lot. Memories of you and Michael as kids began to race through your head and you began to cry. How did it come to this...?

• ───────────────── •

Seven more years went by. Seven more years where Michael didn't see you. Seven more angry years. But now, it was different. Michael was standing in front of your house.

He was different now. He was more built, even taller, and his hair was even longer. You used to comment on his long hair as a kid, it was one of the reasons he kept it so long in the first place.

He could see you through the window. You lived alone now, just down the street from your childhood home. He was content watching you through the window. You were preparing dinner, when you suddenly got a call. He decided now was the time to enter your home.

Moving around to the back door, he began to pick the lock.

"Hello?" You picked up your phone.

With a click, he was in.

"(Y/n)! You need to listen to me-" Dr. Loomis practically shouted on the other line.

Michael slowly opened the door.

"Save it, Dr. Loomis. I told you to stop calling me." You were about to hang up.

Michael made his way to your living room, right next to your kitchen.

"He's escaped! Michael has escaped!"

"What?" You spoke, shock and fear tearing through your system. You put a hand over your mouth, and looked up through your window, but you saw a figure behind you.

"You're not safe! Flee Haddonfield!" Dr. Loomis begged.

You spun around to see a large man with a knife glistening in his hand. He had a white mask on, blonde hair poking out underneath it. You didn't need him to take off the mask to see who it was. Your fear skyrocketed as you thought he was going to kill you.

"Michael...?" You spoke, slowly lowering the phone and ignoring Dr. Loomis' pleas.

Michael moved towards you. He finally had you now, and he would never let you go again. He was yours, and you will be his.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my masterlist, in case you like what you see and want to request more!

[justwinginglife]

Make A Wish

Guys, it's still Hoshina's bday in my timezone, so bday fic for yall. Also I'm sorry it's a lil sadder than I wanted it to be and I'm sorry it's short. But I swear it's happy lol.

It was 12:00 am, November 21st, and Soshiro was staring at his phone, waiting for your text. 

When you’d first started texting him at midnight on his birthdays, it was the year you’d moved to Korea, the year you’d taken the sun away. It was the year walks in the park went away, the year swims in the river went away, the year stargazing on rooftops went away. It was the year his jackets found themselves back in his closet and the year your scent started to fade. It was the year he walked home alone, ate dinners alone, missed you all alone. When the girl next door became the girl in the next country over, he found everyday became a little grayer with every moment you weren’t by his side. 

But even galaxies apart, he was still your best friend, and you’d close the distance with a text at midnight, letting him know he wasn’t alone, letting him know he was in your thoughts. Sometimes texts would turn into calls and then night would turn into day, and when he thought of facing his birthday without you, he’d miss you more than he ever missed you before.

When you were neighbors, you used to sneak into his bedroom at midnight, trying not to set his curtains on fire while you climbed through his window with one hand cradling a candlelit cupcake and the other reaching out to him for support. Those were the good days. In the dead of the night, while everyone else was asleep, you’d sing him happy birthday as quietly as you could (though it still wasn’t very quiet) and he’d listen to every single note, even as off key as they were, with a smile on his face, memorizing the sound of your voice. Then you’d make him blow out his candle and tell you what he wished for and he’d shake his head laughing at you, and insist that if he told you, it wouldn’t come true. One night, he finally told you his wish: he wished that every birthday could be like this. That every year could be marked with memories of you by his side.

The very next year you moved away and he never told you a wish of his ever again.

That’s when you started texting him. You’d tell him your wishes for him. 

I wish that Soshiro could finally have that dog he’s always wanted.

I wish that Soshiro could grow tall, but not as tall as me, maybe like an inch taller.

I wish that Soshiro would find a hundred dollars lying on the street.

I wish that Soshiro could be happy for the rest of his life.

I wish that I could be by his side to see it.

And on that cold, fall night, every text that lit up his screen made him feel just a little bit warmer every time. 

So every year after that, the tradition continued. Every year, at midnight, he thought of you, and every year, at midnight, you texted him your birthday wishes. You texted him until your hands cramped and your eyes burned. You called him until your throat was dry and your voice hoarse. You wished for him until your head hurt and your heart ached. 

With different schedules and different lives, there was no guarantee you could keep in constant contact, but for at least one day out of the year, for at least one night out of the year, Soshiro was yours. And you weren’t falling asleep until he knew how special he was to you, and you weren’t saying goodbye until you knew he wouldn’t forget you this year. 

But he’d never forget you.

Even now, at 12:01, he thought of you. He thought of you until 12:01 turned into 12:02 and his jittery heart began to jump in his chest. He thought of you until 12:02 turned into 12:03 and his uneasy heart began to pace in his chest. He thought of you until 12:03 turned into 12:04 and his despondent heart began to sink in his chest. And then he wondered if you finally forgot about him. If the chasm had finally grown too wide. If your heart had finally recalled itself. If all you would ever be to him was a wish he whispered to the stars at midnight. 

Then 12:05 hit and there was a knock at the window.

And there you were, disheveled, panting, sweating, holding a cupcake with a flickering candle like your life depended on it.

He watched as you climbed into his room, like you had so many times before, and before he knew it, his arms were around you in an instant. The way he held you was almost as if he was expecting you to turn into stardust in mere seconds if he so much as loosened his grasp, as if you were nothing more than a ghost and he was desperately trying to tether you to this world, to his world. He swore he’d never speak another wish aloud again, but god, did he want to tell you that he wished you could stay. That he wished you’d be his. That he wished when he dreamt of you he’d wake up to you. That he wished when he reached for you he’d find you. That he wished when he loved you, you’d love him too.

But you didn’t cross a sea just to shake his hand, pat his head, and give him a cupcake. You didn’t save every coin that you ever earned, or ever spotted in a crack on the sidewalk, or ever found wedged in between couch cushions, just to give up now. You wanted his midnights but you wanted his middays. You wanted his early mornings and late evenings. You wanted his wishes and his hopes. You wanted his strength and his weakness. You wanted his past and his future. You wanted him.

You were five minutes past twelve, and you were late, but dammit, you’d never make him wait for you ever again.

“Wish again.” You instructed, gesturing to the candle.

His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Your wish. Tell me again.”

He took a deep breath. “I wish that every year, you could be by my side.” He spoke so softly and blew on the candle so gently that you almost didn’t think it would go out. But it did, and he smiled. “I wish that every year, you could be by my side,” He repeated. 

“Wish granted.”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter

[zzeraphilm]

little white lies

Shinsou Hitoshi x GN!Reader word count: 2,517 summary: shinsou and y/n's childhood dream was to become heroes, side by side. but as you grow up, reality hits hard, and sometimes lies make the pain easier to bare.

Tiny pitter pattering feet crunched the granite beneath them. Two little children, imagining their powers, capturing villains and saving the world. With their school jumpers tied around their necks, their makeshift capes fluttered in the wind as they ran around the monkey bars. 

“Ah ha! Stay back villain! The twin heroes Étoile and- Hitoshi, did you think of a hero name yet?” Y/N, the taller of the duo, snapped at the little boy beside them. 

“Uhm, not yet I’m still thinking about it.” He mumbled.

“You should do some research! My dad showed me all of the ways heroes can be named! I picked mine because it means star in French! One day I hope to be a shining star that saves people!” 

The thick head of purple hair bobbed up and down, nodding along to the ramblings of his friend. Since his first quirk manifestation, he has been scared to show Y/N his ability, brainwashing isn’t particularly associated with heroism. In Shinsou’s eyes, Y/N was blessed with the perfect quirk to become a hero unlike him. He remembers the day their quirk manifested, they were on their way to school and the scatterbrained Y/N tripped on the cracked pavement, bracing for impact they felt a beam of light pushing them upwards in the air. From their fingertips, the rays of sunlight had curved into a little cloud for them.

They were smiling ear to ear, their happiness so infectious that Shinsou couldn’t help but cheer. From then on, in class Y/N would mould the various rays of light from a lamp or fire into a multitude of objects, shapes and weapons. Their class praised Y/N, knowing their future success as a hero was guaranteed. Shinsou couldn’t continue to be petty around Y/N, his friend was quite literally the light of his life, and he just wanted to remain by their side. 

Towards their second year in Middle School, Y/N’s life took a drastic turn. Their family had to relocate out of their town, meaning Shinsou would be left for the dogs in his high school who would torment his dreams of becoming a hero alongside Y/N. They promised to continue to talk everyday, Y/N would send extensive messages, updates about their life in their new town. How they befriended many people and have started their own Hero Appreciation Club at their new school.

Shinsou buried his jealousy like second skin. He lied through his teeth like it was biological to him. Y/N knew of Shinsou’s quirk, they reassured him that despite everything, he could become an incredible hero. But with the world around him painting him to be the perfect villain to Y/N’s hero, he despised the thought of being a hero. So when on their weekly phone call to each other, as Y/N rambled about attending a hero school and how they wanted to live up to their childhood dream. Shinsou agreed, said he felt the same and promised to live up to Y/N’s wishes. That was when the lies first started. 

Shinsou got into UA’s General Studies course, his grades were excellent and the prestige of UA’s reputation around the world was enough for his parents to agree in his admission. Despite knowing that he had tried so hard to get into the hero course. It was futile, because a useless quirk as his would never work in a battlefield situation. 

Y/N succeeded in getting into the hero course at Shiketsu High School, at the news of their admission into the hero course, Y/N cheered endlessly on the phone with Shinsou. So excited to finally see their dream come to fruition. Upon asking if Shinsou held up his end of the plan, he said he did. That he got into UA. He just didn’t mention which class, so Y/N assumed that everything was fine. That they would soon be reunited as heroes. 

Being a part of the hero class meant Y/N was constantly busy, unlike Shinsou. His high school life was as ordinary as one could have it, he had thought multiple times to drop out and go to a regular school. It would’ve made no difference, yet whenever him and Y/N spoke, he felt guilty. A sticky, black tar-like feeling at the pit of this throat. He didn’t want to disappoint them. He wanted to be the boy that was always by their side, in every dream and every thought. He just wanted to be beside them again. And if that meant he had to maintain this facade of a hero-to-be, then so be it. As long as it remains just between him and Y/N. 

“Then we had to do these 2v2 fights in a hypothetical villain attack. It was crazy, I think I really got into the character of a villain!” They laughed through the screen, as they tilted their head at Shinsou’s nonchalant hummed response. 

“Toshi, how’s your hero studies been going? Do you guys have a lot of written content to cover?” 

Shinsou stopped scribbling in his notebook, he couldn’t have Y/N think that they failed to get into the hero course, and was merely a general studies student. He broke his train of thought with a cough.

“Yeah kinda. Uhh, Mr Aizawa is getting us to make notes on past rescue missions for an assignment.” He had lost count over how many lies he had said, maybe this was the 100th one but he couldn’t remember. Just as long as Y/N believes him. 

“Oh wow! To think Eraserhead would be such a strict guy. My teachers think it’s best to learn through doing, so my hands are too sore to even pick up a pen nowadays!” Before they could finish their sentence they yawned loudly. “Ah, I’m so sorry Toshi, I’ve been so tired lately.” 

Shinsou couldn’t help but smile at how cute they looked trying to stop themselves from falling asleep. 

“Then go to bed stinky. You gotta wake up early tomorrow,” With a light hum and a slow nod with their head, Y/N waved him goodbye. 

Shinsou was afraid of course, if Y/N found out the truth, that their childhood friend was a disgusting liar with a villainous quirk so of course he would manipulate them into believing everything he said. His mind was full of self-sabotaging and self-despising thoughts. He could only shove his mind into his studies to cover up the screams in his head. 

News of the attack in USJ spread across the school like wildfire, the thought of a villain attack sent a shivers down the spine of every student. Of course, the news spread to the rest of the country, with Y/N spamming Shinsou’s phone with endless missed calls and messages. Shit. He was so busy lately with his studies that he forgot about Y/N thinking he was with the hero class. 

12 missed calls from Y/N ☆ Hitoshi answer me Pls Pls answer me R u okay?!?? Pick up my calls!

“Hello?” 

“Hitoshi! Where are you? Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I saw the news and- oh God I can’t even- Please tell me you’re not hurt!” 

Y/N’s mind was spiralling out of control, endless visions of Shinsou hurt and pinned down by a villain flooded their mind. They felt sick with anxiety, they had cried themselves to sleep the night before thinking the worst because Shinsou hadn’t responded to them. 

“I’m okay. I’m fine, luckily I called in sick.” He mumbled. 

Relief flooded over their body, Y/N physically felt the weight of worry be lifted from their soul. 

“Thank goodness, how are your classmates? Are they recovering okay? I’m so sorry you guys had to go through that. You know can always talk to me Toshi. I know we’ve been busy lately to even talk but I’m always here for you.” 

Shinsou felt dirty, he felt disgusting for the lies that he had laid. He had dug himself in his own grave by this point. 

“Yeah, thanks Y/N. I’ve- I’ve got to go there’s some stuff I’ve got to do.”

“Of course Toshi, just message me when you get home! Stay safe.” Click. 

The two tried to speak regularly, but with the stress of their hero activities and Shinsou’s growing guilt turned resentful - they hadn’t spoken in over a month. The UA Sports Festival was fast approaching and Y/N had already been bragging to the rest of their friends about Shinsou. How excited they were to see him on the screen, hyping everyone in the room with their shining persona. Any mention of Shinsou, Y/N instantly beamed and everyone knew from a mile away how much the boy meant to them. The rest of Class 1-A at Shiketsu had their eyes glued to the screen upon the announcement of the UA Sports Festival. Y/N was busy writing their message to Shinsou wishing him luck. Despite the extensive chat history largely consisting of missed calls and messages from Y/N.

Shinsou tried to block out Y/N from his life the last few weeks, muting their messages and focusing their studies. Seeing Class 1-A at UA going about their days ignited a fire within him. He had been so spiteful of himself, for lying to Y/N about his hero journey, it only justified his own beliefs that he couldn’t become a hero like them. To then seeing the danger 1-A posed for the rest of the school, he felt cluster of emotions, ranging from spite, hatred, jealousy, envy and disappointment. Mainly towards himself. His self-sabotaging behaviour had only fuelled his disbelief over himself, seeing others succeed in the dream he and Y/N had made him sick. 

By now, he did not care for Y/N, he had become blinded by his envy. His self-hatred. His new found desire to win. 

“Guys it’s starting!” Y/N had invited their classmates and close friends to their parents’ home to watch the sports festival together. They huddled around the television screen, on the sofa, the floor and even on top of each others laps. Bags of chips and snacks messily spread across the table and multiple cups of juice were handed out. They were all excited to see the infamous Shinsou Hitoshi that their beloved classmate would fawn over. 

The silent shock that cast over the room was deafening, Shinsou walked out along with the general studies class and all of a sudden the attention was towards Y/N. It moved so fast that they barely noticed they had moved onto the next class. Nobody wanted to call Y/N’s bluff and continued to watch in silence. Each move that Shinsou took didn’t live up to the heroic version of him in their minds. Some even saw him as, villainous. Y/N didn’t speak, didn’t take a sip or eat anything. Their eyes were glued to the screen, jaw tightly locked in position and their fists balled till their skin turned white. 

The day was supposed to be a fun, class get together at their friends house to cheer for their favourite UA student. No one would’ve guessed that it was all a lie. Some of their classmates knew of Shinsou’s quirk briefly, some had no idea that he could brainwash people. So during the student-student battle rounds, they were left shocked at how unsportsmanlike Shinsou was, the way he manipulated his quirk to win. He was nothing like how Y/N described him, this boy who was full of wonder and was always determined to be by Y/N’s side. Some of the students felt sick, some of the students resembled the same kinds of people that swayed Shinsou away from his dreams of becoming a hero. Before the fight between Midoriya Izuku and Shinsou could take place, Y/N turned off the TV and walked out the room. No one tried to console them. 

Well done for today. Call me when you’re free.

“Y/N, you there?”

“Shinsou why did you lie to me?” 

His heart almost skipped a beat at his exposure. 

“I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

A new found anger filled Y/N’s voice, they screamed. “But you did! For almost half a year! You pretended to be a part of 1-A, I thought you almost died at USJ! Yet I see you on national television using your quirk like your some sort of-“

“Some sort of what?! Villain? I fought damn hard today, I’m not having you prove them all right!” 

The call cut abruptly, both Y/N and Shinsou were left aghast. Years of dreams together and years of friendship. Suddenly began to melt away. Had their feelings for each other, their dreams to be together side by side as heroes come to an end now?

Since they last spoke on the phone, Y/N became fully integrated into Shiketsu High’s hero course, ignoring the rest of the world around them. Allowing themselves to be swallowed whole by their hero activities. Despite their hard work, their mind was always elsewhere. Their last conversation with Shinsou left a bitter taste in their mouth that nothing could clean out. Maybe if they had been more understanding, they could’ve fixed everything. 

Unlike a few of their classmates, Y/N pass their Provisional Licence exam with a breeze. Only a few more steps closer to becoming a pro, was all that was driving Y/N to continue with their studies. Their endless spiralling thoughts had consumed them to the point of delusion that only a harsh voice from a certain pro-hero caught broke their train of thought.

“Are you Y/N L/N?” 

They whipped their head around to face the Erasure hero, Eraserhead. Aizawa Shota, who upon close inspection, was the older spitting image of Shinsou. Y/N cursed how the image of Shinsou followed them everywhere they turned. 

“You’re friends with Shinsou Hitoshi from UA, yes?” They gave a hesitant nod. 

“Well he reached out to me to train him, tell me. Do you think he can do it, train to become a hero?” His stagnant voice held no indication of hope nor malice. So this was Class 1-A’s teacher.

Y/N could only recall the memories of their childhood with Shinsou, where despite his smaller frame compared to other kids, his slight stammer as a child. He would always stand up for Y/N no matter what, he would always hold their hand whenever it would get dark sooner than expected. How Shinsou would always give them the other half of his candy to make sure that Y/N would always have something to eat or smile at. How no matter what Shinsou would be by their side, even if they were apart, the spirit of him was always leaning over them. Y/N knew, from the very first day they met him, that Shinsou was their hero.

“Yes. I know he can become the greatest hero, because he’s always been mine.” 

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

I’m a short skinny dude. I was wishing you can turn macho latin young hunk who grows into an older silver fox (of some sort).

I think I have something in mind. What I’ll do is this. Put you in a gene pool that hit the lottery.

Your skin begins to darken as you get taller. Your hair becomes show as your feet explode to a size 15. You own cock snakes down your leg becoming larger and larger while your balls hang lower and lower. Abs poke out of your stomach and your pecs become a shaft while your arms bloom with huge mass packed under the skin. Now at the age of 25 and in the body Pedro. A young borny as hell man always wanting to plant his seeds. Always giving his family grief of possible children that may be floating around out there. But all in all you really do have it made.

But you did say you wanted to grow into a silver fox. Well. Pedro has a really attractive father. So. I only see fit that Pedro , son of his own father go through a particular change guaranteed to set Pedro up for life. Or rather his father’s. You see, the change I’ve made is that Pedro will slowly over time become his dad. Forced to walk in his dad’s shoes. Fight as he might, his body will always turn to one direction. His dad. And he’s going to be 100% like him. Even on a dna level. So for a couple years you enjoy the time you have only to see your body slowly beginning to change. A hair here or there. Then by age 33 you hair begins to fall out of your head as it appears to grow on other parts of your body. Your muscles begin to sag slightly with age around 37 and by this time you have a noticeable bald spot that is quickly meeting the receding hairline that you have started to develop. At age 45 you hair is grey and your stomach slightly bulges. But now at age 50. Your wish is almost complete. At 99% you father. You look exactly like him. You’re hairy. Muscular. And extremely dominating. You sound like him. Walk like. Everything you do is just like him. But that 1% you need that too. Your balls swell instantly. You feel as if someone is squeezing them. And then. Just like that. Your own father sees now churns in your own sac. Leaking like a faucet and fertile for days. You sit on the chair and smile at the one man across from you reading about alll of your changes. You flex your massive frame and hair toes at him. And smile. You know that that man is wishing he could share your genes too.

[sc0tters]

Out of It | Mat Barzal

summary: as your relationship with Tito finally hits a breaking point, what happens when Mat is there to pick up your pieces?

request: yes/no

warnings: cheating, failed relationship, drinking, allusions to sex, swearing.

word count: 3.2k

authors note: Kei said I could use the chaotic ending so I did, probably means we’re gonna have to have a part 2 (let me know if you want it). Request said something sad for Tito but happy for Mat and this is what my mind came up with. I actually enjoyed writing this one a lot so I hope you all enjoy reading it! But also don’t cheat on your partners, that’s very fucked up!

part two | part three

Things hadn’t been good for months.

When Anthony was first traded to the Canucks your boyfriend of three years always just assumed that you would join him. But you didn’t, your entire working career was spent in New York building up the your name and you weren’t ready to leave it for some city in Vancouver without the guarantee of a job waiting for you.

That seemed to be the first sign that things were changing as the boy took it as you not loving him.

Tito slammed his hands against your kitchen counter “do you ever support me in this move?” The man groaned in frustration making you taken aback by his outburst.

The accusation hurt you “of course I do.” You yelled back making his irritated tone “the fact that you think I’m gonna pack my life up at the drop of a hat makes me question how you feel about me though.” You crossed your arms sending him a glare.

This argument had gone on for the last fifteen minutes and there was still no clear sign of the end of this argument “look I can’t live in Vancouver but I can split my time between the two cities.” You offered growing tired of the way this was continuing to drag on.

But Anthony didn’t like that offer, in fact that almost felt worse than you just staying in New York “don’t bother.” He sighed pushing past you.

The hockey player moved towards the door “where are you going?” You croaked feeling your throat grow tight “I’ll spend the night with Mat.” Anthony sighed grabbing his shoes from the rack.

Your feet pulled you to the door “we don’t go to bed angry,” you reminded him “you promise.” Tears began rolling down your cheeks as you felt like you were loosing the love of your life “I’ll be back in the morning.” The boy mumbled kissing your forehead.

His lips left their print on your skin before he walked out of the apartment leaving you alone.

You two never actually spoke about that argument again, instead just choosing to ignore the fact that for the first time since you two moved in together Anthony didn’t sleep at home when he was in New York.

It felt like it was meant to be the one anomaly in your relationship or at least until February hit. Valentine’s Day you were meant to be in Vancouver with flights booked and everything but when a last minute meeting came up you had to pull out. Much to the annoyance of Anthony though.

Thinking you were doing the right thing you told him to go enjoy the dinner reservations he made. But after your long day of work when you came home the last thing you expected to see was the rumour mill that twitter made talking about how Anthony had a new girlfriend.

She was taller than you and looked like a blonde supermodel. Through frustration you grumbled something to yourself before you dialled in your boyfriends number “hey y/n!” Anthony was always good about picking up on the first or second ring “yeah I’ll be done in a sec,” he added clearly talking to someone on his side of the call.

You never liked admitting that you felt insecure in your relationship, but how could you not when you were with some hotshot hockey player? It also wasn’t helped by the fact that he lived 3 hours behind you and in a different country “don’t tell me she’s there,” you choked on the words as tears formed in your eyes.

Anthony clicked his tongue hearing the soft whimper you let out “who baby?” His nickname always had you melting into his hand but now you felt repulsed by it “that girl-“ your eyebrows knitted together as you thought the boy was playing tricks on you acting all oblivious.

The hockey player cut you off “told you that Twitter isn’t good for you.” His reminder felt condescending as you sat down feeing like you were having his lecture in person “why are they all talking about it?” Your voice was soft as you wiped your cheek with the back of your hand to clean the tears away from you.

He almost forgot he was on the phone to you as he stared at the girl who was on his couch pointing at her watch to signal that they were late “when she realised that we both had no plans tonight I said she should come with me.” Tito explained leaving you silent as he wasn’t denying that he spent the night with this bombshell of a girl “she’s just a friend though baby you got nothing to worry about.” Somehow his attempt to comfort you only made your nerves stick out more.

You tried to formulate a coherent sentence as you felt stupid for getting all upset “look I’ve got a few days off next week, why don’t I come see you?” He proposed causing that stupid love drunk smile to form on your face “I’d like that a lot.” You nodded missing your boyfriend now more than ever.

From the moment he arrived in New York you two could feel that something was different. As you invited some of his favourite old teammates over for dinner you felt relieved that you weren’t having to spend the night alone with him.

But of course that sense of peace had to be disturbed “baby why don’t you leave those for the morning?” You asked seeing Anthony’s back towards you as you entered the kitchen.

If there was one thing that usually fixed your problems it was sex. Sure that sounded stupid and like you were both teenagers, but as a couple your favourite way to end even the smallest of fights as with sex.

Which is why you thought it was the fix this problem needed “I want to wake up to a clean kitchen.” The Canadian always felt this rewarding feeling whenever he got to see an empty set of sinks in the morning.

You decided to try a little harder as you walked over to him “think I’ve got something a little more fun for you to do before that though.” You mumbled letting your hands slide up the front of his shirt.

That only seemed to piss him off “Jesus y/n let me finish the fucking-” the moment he began lashing out you stepped back keeping your lips shut until he spun around to look at you.

It didn’t take his eyes long to make their way down your body as you tied the string around your robe up clearly deciding that it wasn’t right for tonight “oh,” Anthony’s voice was soft as he realised that you were wearing his favourite lingerie.

The set was something you bought when he was on a long road trip once and you sent him pictures of each set you tried on in the store and when he picked the blue set you went to the airport to pick him up in a coat with nothing on underneath besides for that new set “forget it.” You rolled your eyes now feeling embarrassed as you turned around heading back to your bedroom where you sat on your bed for fifteen minutes waiting for him to come after you.

But he never did and you felt like an idiot.

April came around and you were now onto month four of feeling like something was wrong but you never felt confident enough to talk to Anthony about it so instead you let your relationship get to the worst it had ever been. Excuses were made each time one of you was meant to see the other and as the time between phone calls grew, the amount of fight you put up to see the other person decreased.

Tonight you were going out with some of the guys from the Islanders team. Mat invited you along as they were celebrating their place in the playoff “I know they are your friends.” You rolled your eyes at the phone call as Anthony couldn’t understand how his best friend invited you along.

It was somewhat amusing because Mat was the one who introduced you to your boyfriend “I’m going to support the boys okay?” You heard a knock at the door making you open it.

A smile formed on your face seeing older Canadian as you ushered him inside motioning to him to keep quiet as you were on the phone “yes I’ll let you know when I’m home.” It sounded like you were talking to a parent rather than your boyfriend.

Mat made himself comfortable on your couch as his spread his legs leaning into the soft fabric “I’m going to go now.” And with that you hung up. It irritated you how the first time he called you in over a month was because one of his old teammates mentioned that he was seeing you tonight “you okay kid?” Mat asked furrowing his eyebrows.

Despite the fact that there was only a two year age gap between you both when he met you, you were a freshman in college in your Maple Leafs jersey as you willingly spent your morning in a cafe arguing with the Islander player about how the Canadian team was better. Mat would never admit this to you or Anthony but he thought you were hot, that’s why he invited you to the game when the Maple Leafs came to visit. Why he scored a goal and pointed right up to the box where you sat, but even more so why he scored three goals. But no matter how hard Mat tried to impress you, it was no match against Anthony’s soft smile that he sent you making you weak in the knees.

You sighed sitting next to him “Tito is mad at me again.” You mumbled fiddling with the bracelet that the older boy gave you for your twenty first, the piece of jewellery that you now never take off.

Mat slipped his hand onto your knee giving it a squeeze “don’t worry about him.” The Canadian wanted to act like his crush on you had diminished over the years but when you called him in tears because you realised that you were drowning your sorrows in too much Chinese food for one person to ear during Anthony’s first night in Vancouver. The speed Mat drove across the city going through each red light told him otherwise.

Having him around always comforted you “think I just need to let loose tonight.” You mumbled running your hand through your hair pushing it back unintentionally revealing your collar bones that were highlighted by the low cut of your dress “finally give you a reason to keep up with me.” Mat always drank faster than you as you wrote it down to his lack of a college career where he never got the chance to grow out of it.

You rolled your eyes letting out a laugh “think you’ll be keeping up with me tonight.” You mumbled looking down at your phone to see the time “we’re late,” you groaned quickly getting up. Mat followed your actions with a smile “only means we have to make up for the lost time.” He pointed out making you laugh.

Oh how pretty that sound was.

The bar was packed full of players and their partners with you being the only plus one without a romantic connection to the team. You had practically drunk your way through the bar as the wags believed that you were making up for lost time after you turned down each of their offers to join them on girls night since Anthony left. It was stupid sure, but you always felt out of place when you were with them, so you thought that you’d feel worse without your boyfriend there.

But instead you surprisingly felt like you fitted in as Mat’s arm snaked around your waist “you want another one?” He asked motioning to your empty glass.

The girls had smirks on their faces as they watched your cheeks turn pink feeling his breath on your neck “I’ll come!” You blurted out making them bite the inside of their cheeks to hold in the giggles.

Whilst everyone thought you would marry Anthony, it made all of the girls happy to see you smile and until you or Mat did anything that crossed a line. They didn’t see the point in telling Anthony that his friend was taking care of his girlfriend.

Because to them everything that Mat and you did was friendly, the touches, the smiles, the looks. But what none of them knew was how each of your heart rates increased at the mere thought of the other. Mat locked his hand into yours as he pulled you through the crowd “two refills please.” He asked the bartender with his signature smile.

When the hockey player turned to you he realised you had been staring “what are you thinking about kid?” Mat’s voice was soft as he sat you in the barstool in front of him “how bad would it be if we left?” You cocked your head staring at his Hazel orbs that seemed to be locked into your soul.

Your question made Mat laugh “you had enough?” He frowned wanting to have more of your company for longer. You were quick to shake your head “no of course not,” your cheeks turned pink as you panicked “I just want ice cream and some vodka right now.” The pairing was weird but it seemed to be the only thing going through your mind “well it’s a good thing that I have both of those in my apartment then isn’t it?” His comment made your eyes light up with excitement.

Without thinking he held his hand out to you “they’re all so drunk I don’t think they’ll notice us leave.” Mat mumbled causing you to nod as he pulled you out of the bar somehow without anyone noticing.

During the drive back to his you remained fairly quiet as the Uber driver continued to talk to Mat about what it was like being a hockey player “I’m telling you I think he loves you.” You got the words out between your fit of giggles.

Mat groaned shaking his head “was nervous to have such a pretty girl in his car.” The boy shot back shoving his spoon back into the Häagen-Dazs ice cream container as he ignored the workout he was going to have to do tomorrow.

His compliment made your stomach do flips “think he’d be more affected by you,” you shook your head taking a sip of the expensive vodka that he had given you to drink “if he was gay-“ before you could swallow you let out a laugh resulting in a cough from you.

The hockey player grew alarmed watching your face turn red “you okay?” All you could do was nod until your throat calmed down “you care about me.” You teased rubbing your elbow with his as you smiled.

As much as Mat tried to ignore how he felt about you it was no longer working “of course I do.” The Canadian wanted to scoff that you would ever even consider to think that he didn’t.

But what he didn’t expect as your eyes locked with his was that you would lean forward to kiss him. At first Mat melted into the kiss as this was something he always wanted but as you moved to his lap he was reminded of the fact that you weren’t his “what about Tito?” Mat gasped forcing himself to feel guilty about the situation. Your lips formed a frown “he doesn’t love me anymore Mat,” you shook your head as tears formed in your eyes “and I don’t love him.” It was the first time you had ever actually said that out loud.

Yet it was all true, the fire that was once burning underneath your relationship turned to an occasional spark that had gone into hiding for the last few months. Mat stared at your soft facial expression “why don’t you leave him?” He asked furrowing his brows “don’t want to be alone.” Your confession made you seem week.

Truthfully though you had grown used to Anthony’s company and you were scared to see if you could survive without a boyfriend in your life “you aren’t alone.” Mat sighed tracing his finger along your jaw letting his thumb settle on your lip.

Maybe it was the alcohol talking but if he showed you that he was here for you then maybe you’d leave Anthony for good “prove it to me then baby.” You pushed your lips back into his as the boy walked the two of you to his room letting your body hit his mattress.

Mat was finally going to have his way with you.

The next morning.

You let out a groan as you heard a loud knock at the door “baby go get it,” you grumbled wanting to go back to sleep “fine.” Hearing Mats voice from beside you had the events of last night quickly falling back into your head.

Somehow though the boy seemed calmer about it all as he sent you a smile “could get used to this.” You were wearing one of his old Islanders shirts, the first time you were wearing a piece of merch from the team that wasn’t from Anthony.

It reminded you of the fact that you still had a boyfriend but here you were in his best friends bed covered in hickies whilst he was covered in scratches “you should answer the door.” You pushed your hair out of your face as you began to feel sick. You weren’t upset about last night, you loved the reminder of feeling what it was like to be loved.

To put it simply you felt bad that you had done it to a guy like Anthony, your mother raised you better than that “I’ll send them on their way and then we can talk about last night.” Mat wasn’t an idiot, he could see that you weren’t thinking about Anthony by the way you stared at the promise ring on your finger that he gave you when he came back in February.

It only took you two months to go ahead and fuck that one up “okay,” you nodded biting the inside of your cheek as you struggled to comprehend how you would talk to Anthony after this.

Your stomach did flips as you stared at yourself in Mats bedroom mirror. In that moment you felt like a horrible person and there was honestly no denying that you were one. Your precious Anthony would never cross a line like the one that you had and you only hoped that you had enough time to fix it before everything was thrown back in your face “what took you so long dude?”

That voice sent a chill down your spine as your eyes went wide with any desire of wanting extra sleep quickly being thrown out of the window.

What the fuck was Anthony doing at Mat’s door?

[graymanshoots]

“I need time”

Simons POV and continuation to This

FWB!Ghost x GN Reader

implied Konig x Reader

Warnings: Reference to sex, angst no comfort, Simon being an emotional mess, short 😓 (sorry)

“I love you”

Simon felt his heart seize when he heard those words from you, a sudden wave of panic washing over him.

He didn’t remember much after that, aside from the fact that he left. He left you laying there, without knowing whether he would come back. And he didn’t.

Simon didn’t regret being with you or how he acted; he knew he was crossing the lines you two had agreed on for the unorthodox relationship. What he did regret was leaving you alone in your bed, leaving you to think he just wanted someone to warm his cock. He wanted you. He wanted you beyond just the physical aspect. He wanted to wake up with you next to him every day. He wanted to make you breakfast and sit you on the counter with some tea. He wanted to see you at the altar, listening to him pour his heart out to you. He wanted all of that and more. He wasn’t ready for you to want him back. He felt scared, more than he did on any battlefield in any condition. The thought of you loving him filled him with dread of what your futures together might hold. You both had a dangerous job with no guarantee for survival, and that iced over any chances there were of him expressing his emotions to you. He didn’t want to feel the way he did, because with those feelings came the thoughts of seeing you lying dead somewhere, or worse, MIA on the field.

He was supposed to be a ghost; he couldn’t have those connections. Watching you walk around base, interacting with everyone but him, tore him up so much inside he couldn’t explain.

During briefings, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your focused expression, your brows drawn together, and eyes zeroed on the captain.

Simon felt like he had all the time in the world to grow a pair and finally say something to you, but the words caught in his throat every time. Your eyes stared up at him in confusion as he just stood there, looking down at you menacingly.

You didn’t want to play Simon’s games and had begun detaching yourself from him as a lover. The chat between you two remained unopened, and the behavior was cordial when you worked together.

He hated it; he couldn’t stand the feeling of his guts twisting and knotting in his stomach every time you brushed him off. Johnny commented on the strained relationship between the two of you, but Simon always shut it down. No one needed to know that you two had a falling out, not that they knew you were sleeping together in the first place.

It wasn’t until your team was forced to work with Kortac against a mutual enemy that he truly felt his time to make things up was being threatened.

Your team was stationed at a temporary base to keep even ground with Kortac. 141 was on edge working with people who could be on the enemy's side in seconds if they offered a better deal, but they had no choice in the matter.

Ghost never had to look up at anyone in his life, having always been taller than his peers. But when he was met face-to-face with König, a behemoth of a man, like a cat, his hair stood on end and his eyes narrowed.

Without the Kortac badge, Ghost had assessed König as a threat, and with the way the larger man’s eyes fell on you, Ghost could tell it was going to be a bigger issue than he wished.

[pastanest]

George Weasley x she/her Hufflepuff!reader

A/N: recovered by the lovely @paintyourviolence !! thank you so much! ♡ if you’re wondering why I’ve had to repost this imagine, please check out this post

Would You Be So Kind

It truly isnt fair. It hasnt been for years. To be precise, you have been living an unjustifiably cruel life for the past four years, almost to the day.

You remember it like it was yesterday; the excitement bubbling in you as the train travelled closer and closer to your new school, your school for magic. The very kind Harry Potter had given you a seat in his carriage, alongside another boy who you came to know as Ron Weasley. It was their first year, too, and they were both as excited as you were, but unlike you, they could verbalise their excitement and hold actual conversations. Meanwhile, you sat and watched the world blur by through the windows on the other side of the carriage door, since both boys were situated by the carriage window. As the snack trolley arrived, and the sweet old lady asked if any of you would be buying anything, there was a steady thudding down the train, growing louder as it neared; until two taller red-headed boys almost ran directly into the trolley. Upon being stopped, they smiled at Ron through the door.

“Just our luck, we’ve only ended up by Ron’s carriage!” One of the twins teased, laughing.

The other twin chuckled along with his brother, then gestured to Harry. “Go on then, introduce us to your new friends!”

Ron sighed dramatically. “Harry Potter.”

The first twin that had spoken, Fred, raised his eyebrows. “Blimey!”

Harry waved politely. “Hello!”

The second twin that had spoken, George, smiled at you kindly.

“And who’s this?”

You realised he was looking to you for an answer to that question, and considering the question was only asking your name, it seemed a reasonable one to ask you, but at that exact moment you discovered that you could not speak.

“That’s (Y/N).” Ron answered for you, much to your relief, but the embarrassment had already set in, and you avoided everyone’s eyes, choosing instead to stare down at your lap.

George Weasley squeezed between the trolley and the carriage door partially, leaning just slightly closer to you.

“Hey, dont worry, everyone’s nervous on their first day. It’ll all feel normal in no time!” He encouraged sweetly, a gesture that was completely unnecessary in the circumstance of you two still being strangers, but when you lifted your head and met the genuine smile on George Weasley’s face, your heart seemed to recognise him.

In the four years that have passed since that day, your interactions with George have been minimal. You couldn’t help feeling gutted when the sorting hat sent you to the Hufflepuff table. Though you realised almost immediately that it was where you belonged, it put a further rift between you and the boy that already felt a million miles away with the two year age gap alone. Thankfully, despite being restricted to a different common room, you did have regular classes with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and the most intelligent person you’d ever met: Hermione Granger. The three of them being in a different house didn’t seem to deter them from maintaining their friendship with you, and although you do have friends in your own house by now, you still frequently enjoy the company of the Golden Trio. And on a few, precious, perfect occasions, being with them has caused you to cross paths with George Weasley.

Especially in your first year, during which you and Hermione spent almost every free period in the library. It wasn’t guaranteed, but the possibility of a teacher sending Fred and George to fetch a particular book from the library was a decently common occurrence. You had never known a teacher to not have a book they needed already in their classroom, but upon asking Ron about it, he said his older brothers likely went into classrooms beforehand to steal books and put them in the library in order to have an excuse to leave lessons. This rebellious streak made George all the more appealing to you, unfortunately. But it wasnt merely the reason for their visits to the library that worsened your symptoms; every single time Fred and George wandered into the library, George would spot you and give you that same genuine smile. And every single time, you would smile back, completely flustered. So flustered in fact, that you had been known to drop the library books you were carrying to yours and Hermione’s chosen table, or you would trip over your own feet and Hermione would rush over to help you, while George gave you a worried expression that you treasured, followed by the question of whether you were alright.

“Always the clutz!” You would say, making him laugh.

Eventually, it happened enough times for him to make that comment before you could.

Obviously, witnessing those interactions in first year meant Hermione was completely clued in on your crush. Back then, it felt very childish to even consider the possibility of him having any interest in you, because you quite literally were a child, not even a teenager yet, like he was. And as children often do, you expected to grow out of your childhood crush. But much to your dismay, George Weasley would not allow that.

The older you got, the more comfortable you got with casually bumping into the Weasley twins, always saying hello to George and then Fred in order to try and hint that you were in love with him. It didnt work, but you kept trying.

You’d wave at them in passing, exchange small talk on occasion, and George would always give you that same smile. Ever since second year, when he and Fred arrived back at Hogwarts having had an extreme growth spurt, that smile would look down at you, and that only made things worse. Especially when that growth spurt didn’t seem to stop, and George’s smile kept lifting further and further out of your reach. And let’s not forget your third year, when George grew his hair out to frame that smile high above you. A masterpiece that was definitely worth framing, you thought. Honestly, if he had kept his hair that long, you dont know if you would have survived.

By now, your Hufflepuff friends as well as the Golden Trio are all too aware of your crush on George Weasley. Ron, in particular, loves to tease you about it. When Hermione gave you the password to the Gryffindor common room in your third year so that you could meet her in her dormitory to study, Ron had grinned cheekily.

“Something tells me (Y/N)’ll be using that password more than any of us!” He teased, and despite the fact his joke was incredibly vague in its exact meaning, you were mortified, because the twins happened to walk by at that exact moment.

“Ooh, a Hufflepuff’s got our password? Do we have a fellow rebel on our hands?” Fred wiggled his eyebrows at you, and you buried your face in your hands.

“No!” You squeaked.

George leant down to nudge you gently. “Hey, if you get caught sneaking in, just say we gave you the password.”

And again, his voice pulled you from your own embarrassment, right back to that smile.

It is honestly infuriating how kind he is to you. Even now, in fourth year, you aren’t in any way used to it, because George seems to excel in charms more and more, both inside and out of a classroom, every year. Just today, you happened to be walking across the courtyard when you spotted George totally by chance, laughing with Fred, and the sight of him so happy was distracting enough to make you trip and fall in the grass. Initially, you cursed yourself for walking without Hermione to assist you if you fell, and you scrambled onto your knees to pick up your scattered books. It was then, you felt a large hand press ever so delicately against your back.

“Always the clutz?” He had chuckled, and your heart skipped a beat simply because he remembered an inside joke from your first year.

Then, George was helping you pick up your books, and soon enough Fred ran over to help you, too. Fred took ahold of your books while George helped you back to your feet, the pair of Weasley’s towering over you, but you couldn’t look away from George.

“Thank you.” Was all you could manage as Fred passed you your books.

You saw that smile, and then you were scampering off before your heart could leap right out of your chest.

Now, you’re pacing around the Gryffindor common room while Hermione, Ron and Harry sit on one sofa, their eyes watching you as you embody your stress.

“Why the HELL does he do this?! What did I do to deserve this kind of torture!?!” You sigh, raking your fingers through your hair.

The fireplace crackles obnoxiously, setting your teeth on edge. If it wasn’t the only current source of light in the room, you would take your shoes off to stomp it out with your bare feet, it’d be less painful than - and a wonderful distraction from - thinking about George Weasley.

Ron laughs. “It’s hardly torture, (Y/N), he helped you up when you fell over.”

Your fiery gaze makes him shrink into the sofa, and Hermione elbows him in the ribs for good measure.

“It is absolutely torture for George Weasley - an infamous prankster - to show unwavering kindness to (Y/N); anyone with a crush on him would be smitten by him treating them differently to everyone else!” Hermione corrects him, and you nod at her gratefully as you continue your pacing.

“Sometimes I wish one of you would Obliviate me so I’d forget that first day on the train, and every moment with him after. It’d save me YEARS of pain! I am tired.” You groan in frustration, shaking your head.

“Well, have you tried telling him?” Harry speaks up, and you spin on your heel, staring at him like he’s insane.

“Of course she hasn’t! The lack of answers is what has made this so much worse, you simply must tell him!” Hermione pleads, and you scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest as heat rises to your face.

“So, what? You think I should just waltz right up to him and say ‘Hey, George, not sure if you’re aware but I thought I’d let you know that I’m head over heels in love with you and I’d appreciate it if you could act like a total dick to me so I can get over this because there is no way in hell you feel the same way’?” You pause to laugh. “Hermione, Im gonna be honest, I think I would rather take the entire school population’s OWL’s in one sitting.” The silence that follows your words makes you frown. “What? Do you actually think I should say that to him? Are you all in deluded agreement?!”

The three of them stare at you with wide eyes.

“U-Uh, (Y/N)...” Ron utters nervously, making your stomach twist with worry.

“You might want to...turn around.” Harry finishes Ron’s sentence, and your blood runs cold.

Swallowing hard, you shake your head. “No, no I don’t think I want to turn around. Actually, I am suddenly overwhelmingly tired, hope you don’t mind Hermione but I’m going to take a quick nap in your bed right this second-“ You attempt to run past the sofa, but Hermione grabs hold of you, stopping you.

“Good thing you wont have to take all those OWL’s.” A voice says from behind you, and you have never wished harder that you had a talent for falling unconscious, or dying, on command.

The room is silent again, save for the fire still crackling away. Hermione’s arms slowly let go of you, recognising that you are as good as petrified.

“C’mon, we’d better give these two some space.” You hear Fred say, and then he’s ushering the Golden trio up the stairs, into their dormitories.

Closing your eyes, you lift your left hand to pinch your right arm as hard as you can, but to no avail. This is not a dream, and you are doomed.

“(Y/N), look at me.” George pleads, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it before.

You shake your head. “Cant.”

His voice is closer to you when he speaks up again. “Why?”

You open your eyes, focussing your gaze on the wall ahead of you. “Because I won’t be able to think straight if I do.”

And despite not being able to see him, you can hear the genuine shock in George���s voice. “I didn’t know you had it that bad…I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

You sigh, nodding slowly. “No, it’s alright, really. You were only being nice. Admittedly, you being a dick to me would have been a much kinder form of rejection than this, but at least I can say goodbye to the days of chest pains and speechlessness.”

George’s voice is even closer now. “Oh, (Y/N).” And before you can register what’s happening, George’s much larger hand has wrapped around yours and gently pulled you around to face him. “I wasn’t apologising for leading you on, because I haven’t been. I was apologising for not plucking up the courage to be honest with you sooner. If you’re looking for rejection, I’m afraid I’m not the man.”

You blink rapidly, very much struggling to wrap your head around George’s words, especially when he’s standing so close to you, holding your hand, and looking down at you like that.

“But...how? How long have you…?” The objective to ask a simple question is failed, your mind scrambled by too many things that all fall under the umbrella term of George Weasley.

“Well, I’ve noticed that you only seem to fall over, trip over, and get all shy when I’m talking to you. Even asked Ron if you act like that around anyone else, he said no.” George explains, smiling away, and you have to focus as hard as you can to not swoon right in front of him. He checked that you only acted that way around him?

“Remind me to kick Ron’s ass for not telling me you did that, but there’s a more pressing matter at hand.” You clarify, causing George to laugh as he nods.

“Agreed.”

You sigh, your gaze falling to the floor. “I know you know that I like you, but that’s not enough-“

George interrupts you, shaking his head dramatically. “I like you, (Y/N)! Im just a wuss! Wussiest Gryffindor around! Maybe I should’ve been put in Hufflepuff…”

Your head snaps up as you gasp and playfully smack George on the shoulder for his house-ist comment, making him chuckle.

“In all seriousness, though, we don’t know each other that well, but we clearly have some kind of mutual attraction to each other, and I don’t see the harm in figuring out what that means.” He suggests, shrugging casually, and your stomach flips, a beaming smile taking over your face and confirming to George that you’re onboard with his idea. “Okay, so, do you want to accompany me to the library for some studying?”

You’re about to answer when the two of you hear Hermione shouting from the room above.

“GEORGE WEASLEY, (Y/N) DESERVES MORE THAN A FIRST DATE OF STUDYING!”

Casting your gazes up to the ceiling, you both laugh, and George nods as he glances back down at you.

“She’s right.” He looks back up at the ceiling. “CAN I TAKE HER TO HOGSMEADE?”

And through the ceiling, Hermione shouts a reply. “THAT’S MORE LIKE IT!”

You and George share a laugh, and then he takes both of your hands in his. “So, would you care to accompany me to Hogsmeade, (Y/N)?”

With that same beaming smile still stretching across your face, you nod frantically. “Of course!”

George grins back at you. “Let’s go then!”

Your eyes almost fall out of your skull. “Now?”

George chuckles. “Yeah, why not?”

You nod. “Okay, give me a few minutes to get ready!”

And before he can reply, you’ve run up the stairs and into Hermione’s dormitory.

After some intensive squealing, jumping around and panicked exchanges of utter gibberish, Hermione is digging through her trunk and throwing every oversized jumper she finds at you. There isnt time for you to run back to the Hufflepuff common room, that’s acknowledged without you or Hermione needing to mention it, but you also need to wear a jumper that goes with the rest of your outfit.

A few minutes of frustratedly trying on and throwing off jumpers pass, and then there’s a light knock on the dormitory door.

“(Y/N)?” George calls, and your eyes widen.

“Just a minute!” You squeak.

George chuckles through the door. “I was just going to say that you can always wear one of my jumpers, if you cant find something of Hermione’s.”

Feeling faint all of a sudden, you sit down on Hermione’s bed, and she runs to you, grabbing your hands and giving you an excited, squealy grin. She knows as well as you do that this has been one of your dreams since first meeting George, and Hermione wastes no time in pulling you to your feet and pushing you to the door.

When you open it, George is leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on his face and one of the Christmas jumpers his mother has made him folded up in his hands, which he holds out to you without a word. You cant hide your elation as you stick your arms through the far-too-long sleeves and poke your head through the hole, pulling the jumper down your body until it’s practically halfway down your thighs, but the big letter ‘G’ on your stomach makes you giddy all over again.

“This is even more adorable than I imagined.” George’s voice is barely above a whisper as he stares down at you, and his shyness brings about an unprecedented confidence in you as you slip your hand in his.

“So, Hogsmeade?”

And so, what was left of the daylight was spent wandering around Hogsmeade with George Weasley. The two of you visited Honeydukes, in which George spoilt you by discretely purchasing every sweet your eyes lit up at, using up some of his portion of earnings from his and Fred’s inventions. He did so discreetly because he knew if you saw him doing it, you would have stopped him, and when he presented you with a bag of sweets that you’d unknowingly selected, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so you settled with jumping up to plant a kiss on his cheek before running into Zonko’s Joke Shop. For a few seconds, George stood outside Honeydukes with his fingertips tracing the place on his cheek where your lips had been, in utter bewilderment. And then, with a dazzling smile, he ran after you. In Zonko’s, you paid George back by purchasing him some Dungbombs, Nose-Biting Teacups, and some Sugar Quills when he was wandering around the shop with a distracted, awestruck expression. As you left, you surprised George with a small bag of gifts just like he had done for you, and in return he leant down to kiss your forehead.

In what felt like no time at all, George was walking you back to the Hufflepuff common room with an arm around your shoulders. Upon reaching the entrance, you turned to George, and you couldn’t meet his eyes; this time it wasnt because of shyness, but sadness.

“Hey, we can do this again. Tomorrow, if you like!” George squeezes your hands, giddy at the thought of spending more time with you, and effortlessly lifting your spirits just by being himself.

Smiling up at him, you nod. “That would be lovely.”

Gesturing to the long sleeves that cover your hands, which are hidden away in his, George smirks. “Keep the jumper.”

Your eyes widen, having completely forgotten that you are still wearing his jumper and therefore not even considering taking it off.

“A-Are you sure?”

George chuckles. “Of course, (Y/N). Mum makes us all a new one every year, I don’t have enough time to wear the whole collection! And, it looks better on you, anyway.”

You giggle, feeling your face heat up far more than you’re comfortable with it doing in public. “Thank you, George. I’ll treasure it.”

Your words bring a warm smile to his face. “I know.”

Then, you get an idea, and you beam. “But wait, gifts between us have previously had a price. How much does this jumper cost?”

Catching on immediately, George turns his head to the side slightly, letting go of one of your hands to tap the space on his cheek that you had previously kissed. But your idea is even better, and you shake your head mischievously.

“A jumper is more than a few sweets.” You hint, and George’s eyes widen.

“So...that means…” He trails off nervously, not wanting to make any assumptions, and you decide to answer his question without words.

Standing on your tiptoes, you let go of George’s other hand and place them both on his clothed chest, waiting patiently. Swallowing nervously, George nods.

“Right.”

And then his arms wrap around your waist, gently lifting you up just enough to reach him, and then his lips meet yours. The kiss is soft, his arms holding you carefully as his lips dance against yours ever so slowly, butterflies erupting in your stomachs and fluttering around the two of you. Silent fireworks surround you, the overwhelming sensations of him enveloping you and bringing you somewhere you’ve never been, but it immediately feels like home. Pulling away from George slowly, you grin at him, and he chuckles in disbelief, gently placing you back down on the ground.

“You can have as many jumpers as you want.” George says, causing you to burst out laughing.

“Kisses come free from now on, deal?” You suggest, and George nods eagerly.

“Deal!”

Beaming at him, you take ahold of his hand one last time. “Goodnight, George.”

He surprises you by lifting your arm and leaning down to place a soft kiss against your knuckles, holding your gaze as he does.

“Until tomorrow, (Y/N). Sweet dreams.”

You watch George walk away, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds and chuckling every time he sees you still looking at him. Just before he rounds the corner, he takes the time to blow you a dramatic kiss, and you jump up to catch it with just as much dramatics, causing you both to laugh as he disappears from view, and you pass through the Hufflepuff entrance. As soon as you’re in the common room, you lean against the wall and take a deep breath with a wide smile plastered on your face, knowing with complete confidence that whatever you dream about, it will never feel as sweet as this.

[sircantus]

I havent made a brother post in a while thats because my little brother is a little shit and also i think i recently got a depression or something but besides that he’s still ever beloved by me and he’s still so endearingly foolish.

In writing this im reminded of the fact that he is my little brother. That for the rest of our lives, he will always be my little brother. He is taller than me, and he is growing up, and i will never look at him and see that little boy again but even so, he is still so. Little. He is still my little brother. I can guarantee one day he will hit 20 years of age, tax paying citizen, and he’ll still act like he’s been stabbed every time i flick him on the arm for not moving out of my walking path. He’s always going to act like a little brother to me. He’s always going to be younger than me. He will never be seven years old again, but he will still barge into my room all the same, being as loud and as lovable as he was at that very moment, all those years ago. I get to be an older brother to him for the rest of my life. I get to be an older brother until my very last dying breath. Thank fucking god. What a beautiful way for me to exist. I dont think there’s any other way i couldve done it. I was always meant to love

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Jack and His Wife: A Retelling of "Jack and the Beanstalk"

Jill raced through the giant’s kitchen, clinging to Jack’s hand. A table towered over their heads. Chair legs stood like a forest of trees. Footsteps like thunder pounded beyond the walls of the room.

Before today, Jill had thought herself fearless, but those footsteps made her quake with terror. Jack, meanwhile, had never looked so capable. Was this tower of strength the fuzzy-headed dreamer who’d left their farm this morning?

Jack helped Jill to climb inside a cupboard taller than their cottage, then dragged the door closed behind them.

“We’re safe,” he breathed, holding Jill close in the darkness. “He won’t find us here.”

Through a crack in the door, Jill saw a giant enter the room—a coarse man, taller than any tree she’d ever seen. His face was red and knobby, his hair mostly gone. He threw himself into a chair with a noise like a thunderstorm and bellowed for his wife.

Jill whispered, “What are we going to do?”

“We wait,” Jack said. “He’ll eat his lunch, then he’ll sleep, and we can leave.”

Jill looked in awe at her husband. He was so steady. So sure. Where was the incompetent fool she’d married?

“You’ve been here before,” she realized. “All those days you disappeared and came back with food.”

Jack nodded. “I had to provide for you somehow. Everything else I’ve tried has failed.”

“You told me you’d hired yourself out to some local farmers.”

“He is a local farmer—directly above our cottage. I’ve done some odd jobs for his wife.”

“You never said they were giants!”

“Would you have believed me?”

Jill blushed. She’d have thought her idiot husband had turned lunatic as well.

She’d thought Jack climbed the beanstalk out of idleness—enjoying the view rather than working the land. She had followed him today out of frustration, thinking to drag him back to earth with scoldings and nagging. Instead, she’d found Jack braving a land of giants in the clouds.

In the oversized kitchen, the giant’s wife cooked a feast for her husband—entire cattle, flocks of chickens—but she never came near their cupboard. This hiding place was dark, cluttered with buckets, and smelled faintly of vinegar, but for now, it seemed safe.

Jack made a seat in a massive pile of rags, then settled Jill into it. “Rest while you can. We’ll need to be ready to run.” After making certain Jill was comfortable, he curled up on a thin patch at the edge of the pile.

He was so considerate. He was always considerate, Jill realized, but down on the ground, it annoyed her. His small courtesies seemed like pitiful apologies for the larger ways he failed as a husband.

Jill had fallen in love with Jack’s dreaming ways. He’d been charming and convincing, overflowing with grand hopes for their future. Unfortunately, in twelve years of marriage, none of his dreams became reality. Crop after crop failed, livestock died, and Jill became bitter. Jack never did, and she hated him for it. No matter how desperate they became, he was always sure that next year’s crop would fix everything or his grand new scheme would make them rich as kings.

The beans had been his worst blunder. Jack had traded their last sickly cow for a handful of seeds guaranteed to grow a forest of vines. He’d spun visions of a bumper crop, a better life. Jill had raged and thrown the seeds out the window.

The seeds did grow massive vines practically overnight, but they were a menace. The beanstalk took up half their garden. The inedible vines showed no signs of bearing fruit. Every day, they hacked at runners and roots that threatened to destroy their cottage. Jack put a cheerful face on it; Jill had only complained.

Outside their cupboard, a shout from the giant sent shivers up Jill’s spine. “Did he just ask for ‘man-flesh’?”

Jack sat up and nodded grimly. “Fortunately, his wife objects.”

“You work for this monster?”

“I’d be his next meal if he saw me. His wife has a softer heart. She hides me from him and gives us food.”

“I’d rather starve than know you risk yourself this way.”

Jack gave Jill an astonished look that made her insides twist with shame. Had it been so long since she’d expressed concern for his well-being?

Jack stepped closer to the door. “If it were only me, I wouldn’t risk it. But we could save the whole valley. He’s been hoarding the water somehow, keeping it here in the clouds. If I could find a way to release it, it could end the drought.”

The giant slammed down an empty glass, leaned back in his chair, and called for music.

Jack said grimly, “We’re also not the only humans here.”

The giant’s wife carried a golden cage into the kitchen. Huddled in the center, looking small as a canary, sat a crying eight-year-old-girl.

“Farmer Gidding’s youngest,” Jack explained. “Sings like a nightingale. Not big enough to eat. He keeps her as a pet.”

“How horrible," Jill whispered.

As the little girl piped a tearful song, Jack said, “I had hoped I could rescue her today, but now that you’re here, plans will have to change.”

As Jack gazed through the crack, a ray of light illuminated his fearless form. Jill had thought her husband’s optimism made him a fool, but there was another word for a man who didn’t let defeat discourage him, who looked at impossible odds and dared to try anyway.

Hero.

How had she ever stopped loving him?

Jill stepped to Jack’s side. “Let me help you, my love.”

Jack looked at her with surprise. “Truly?”

Jill took his hand. “Truly.”

Jack grinned.

#

When the giant fell asleep, they moved as one.

The child came with them down the beanstalk.

[rockinnrollin]

just a little taller...

(photo from pinterest, not my photo!)

F!Reader x Sam Kiszka

Warnings: SMUTSMUTSMUT I KNOW IM JUST BACK!!! IM SORRY IM FERAL!!! Like 3 swears, sex in front of a mirror.

W/C: Just over 1,000, a short (ha ha) return!

A/N: Hello my divas, I am back. I’m not going to bore you with my life story but 2024 was probably one of the roughest. But it’s over now and I want to get back into writing again. I do think I’m going to change up my page a little though, due to simply loosing interest in writing for certain people. This is for my fellow short queens and for my Sammy girls out there, please rise and write with me, there is a SHORTAGE of Sam works out here. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this filth! Lots of love! xx

“You just need to be patient, not everyone grows overnight.” “Your brother was like that at your age, he’s tall now, isn’t he?” All statements to keep you quiet and complacent until you had that growth spurt you craved so badly. But it never came. Now you are a legal adult that still gets mistaken for a kid skipping school. As irritating as it is, there is some perks that your boyfriend can be quite jealous of.

For example, sleeping. When joining the guys for a couple of days on the road, you also have to endure the hectic travel conditions. However, after a little shuffling and tucking in your legs, you’re all set. Whereas Sam’s just too tall to squeeze up on a small flight or a tight bus.

Although a downfall that was quite trying to navigate was sleeping with a man considerably taller than you. Your first kiss with Sam was saved by your choice of heel that night, but when it came to the bedroom there was a few bumps along the way. But after a couple of nights together, things started to fall into place. Even then, some nights when you’re in a rush, Sam can still struggle…

“Just try and like put your leg on the counter- “

“Sam, we know that doesn’t work!”

He lets out a frustrated sigh and looks down at your half naked body. The little black dress was a classic, quick go to, but it was also a sex guarantee. And that damn dress is how you’ve ended up twisted in Jake’s guest bathroom with Sam, because according to him, “It doesn’t feel right banging in Jake’s spare bedroom!”

And while you can somewhat understand his objection, you still crave to just crawl on that bed and get at it. After another annoyed grunt and failed attempt to slip into you, he throws his hands in the air.

“Goddamn it baby, why couldn’t you just wear those heels.” He says while looking like a kicked puppy.

“Because they hurt Sam! C’mon lets just go to the bed. I’ll even get on top-“ He cuts you off with a shush.

“I am not fucking in my brother’s spare bed. We’ve been over this.”

“Sam he doesn’t sleep in this damn room!”

Instead of a quick snap back, Sam starts to smirk. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He leans down and kisses your cheek before moving to your ear. It’s then he whispers “I have an idea…”

“And what’s your idea?”

“You gotta trust me on this one alright?” A nod from you as a reply. He continues, “Climb up on the counter, get on your knees, then sort of crouch down. Does that make sense?”

You look up to him baffled. As you try to picture the position in your head, it starts to come together.

“So like, doggy but I’m not arched?”

“Yep.”

“Sam how the hell is that gonna work?”

“Baby c’mon just trust me.”

With a sigh, you slip the dress of fully and climb up onto the bathroom counter. As you kneel, you lean down and try to get comfortable in the new position. Before long, Sam comes closer and looks into your eyes through the mirror. He slaps your ass lightly with a smirk and speaks up.

“Yeah, there we go sweetie. That’s right.”

He grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him. Another ass grab before he leans forward and positions himself to finally get inside of you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder as he slips into you, moans spilling out from your lips and heavier breathing from Sam.

“Is this okay? You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Feels good. Real good.”

That’s all the encouragement he needs to continue, he uses your hips to hold on and stay steady as he fucks up into you. You can see his focus in the mirror as he looks at your bodies joining together. You can’t help but let out a loud moan at the look in his eyes, the pure lust that’s overtaken him as he looses himself in you. His head snaps up at it and the look in his eyes is dangerous as he speaks.

“You better be quiet. They’ll hear us and I don’t want them hearing. We clear?”

A nod and a firm bite on your lip is the only way you can respond.

“God, what a good girl. Keep that pretty mouth shut baby, I’ll make it up to you at home. Promise I will.”

Another nod as he begins to pick up his pace. The cold marble under you catches your boobs every now and then, just adding to the building feeling of pleasure deep inside of you. You’re almost certain that you’re about to draw blood from your lips, but then you feel it, you feel his strong but delicate hand on your clit, rubbing it just the right way to send you deeper into pleasure.

“Oh baby, I know you’re close. I know this pretty cunt well. She can’t take much more.”

Your teeth let go of your lip as you come undone for him. He just smirks and continues before he starts to falter. He lets out a moan of his own as he finishes. He stills in you for a moment before pulling out of you gently, then helping you get down gently.

He presses a kiss to your temple as he pulls you into a hug. “C’mon beautiful, quick shower and we’ll settle in for the night.”

And he stays true to that. A quick shower then you’re crawling into bed together. Before you start to cuddle into each other, Sam lets out a laugh as he glances at his phone. You look down at the screen to see a text from Jake that reads: “If that was you two in my guest room, you’re due me sheets, duvet and a mattress you dick.”

[heich0e]

When Umemiya and Mom get married, do they give Kosuke a little brother or little sister?

i think ume and reader are happy with their family as it is, and feel content not to have any more kids together. kosuke is every bit a son to hajime. he loves him unconditionally, with his entire heart. you have the conversation of course, but both of you are in agreement. you're more than satisfied with what you have. exceedingly grateful for it. you can't imagine anything more.

hajime graduates with his degree and qualifications as a child psychologist, and he starts his career soon after. most of his work is clinical, but outside his normal clinical role he volunteers with the alternative care sector: helping out whenever he can in group homes and family homes—just like, and including, the one he was raised in.

he comes home late one day, almost a decade into your relationship, dishevelled and clearly exhausted. kosuke (13 now, getting taller each day, and going through the phase where he only wants to hide in his room and play video games) has already gone to bed for the night, and you're left curled up on the couch waiting up for your husband's return. when he walks through the door he comes right to you, falling to his knees before you on the living room floor and burying his face against your tummy as he wraps his arms around you and holds tight.

it takes him a moment, pressed up against you with his grip still firm, but he tells you about the two little girls he met through the child guidance centre that afternoon: 4 years old and the other not yet 1, biological sisters, orphaned and facing separation since the youngest requires an infant care facility that isn't able to accept older children. hajime tells you with a strain in his voice how even when the baby gets old enough to transition to a family home, there's no guarantee the two will ever be reunited.

hajime's job is hard—he's seen countless heart-wrenching cases like this over the years, but he always endeavours through it because he knows that's what he has to do to help. you've seen him be others' strength so many times, seen him bear that weight without complaint or waver, but you can see how this time it's eating away at him.

it doesn't happen overnight. there are long, difficult conversations that have to happen: some just between yourself and your husband, and some with your son. there are meetings held in strangely lifeless playrooms in transitional facilities, where you get to know the two girls. meetings where you come to understand why hajime was so wholly taken by them, and come to care for them in just the same way.

and then, however unexpectedly, your family—the one you thought was perfect just the way it was—grows; two little sprouts appearing overnight after a rainstorm, who get to blossom under your care.

you never expected to have another child, let alone two of them, and certainly never expected to be raising another baby—especially not at your age.

you never thought you'd get to see hajime up doing midnight feeds, or diaper changes, or wake up to him dozing beside you in your bed with a teething baby on his bare chest because it was the only way he could get her to sleep. never thought you'd see your husband learn how to braid hair, or play dolls, or paint tiny little toenails.

you never pictured kosuke as a big brother, or anticipated how naturally he would take to it; reading bedtime stories, wiping away tears, and putting pink plasters on scraped knees he then kisses better.

but hikari and himari came home, changed everything, and from that moment on you couldn't imagine your life without them.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

the world (it burns through me)

Chapter 7

Ao3 | 2.7k Words | Darlin's POV

Milo is a drill Sergeant. Darlin' gets some emails. Angel washes dishes. Quinn is the type of asshole that flirts with teenagers.

TW: Stalking, threatening behavior, vomit.

“You’ve gotta put on some weight.” Milo tutted, his hands resting on his trim waist. Even two years later, Milo was a picture of petty tension. He hadn’t grown, despite the fact that he claimed people could grow into their mid twenties. He had built up a good deal of muscle in his back and chest, which served to make him look just a little bigger. He still had an air about him that made him seem two feet taller, even when you stared purposefully past the top of his head to piss him off.

Milo had started working you out as soon as Sam had given you the all clear, after you gave up on trying to avoid him. He was faster than you when he wanted to be, and staying away from him was so much less fun than just giving in to the familiarity of your quiet, playful arguments. 

The workouts started slow; annoying, silent yoga, something his partner had gotten him into that left you infuriatingly loose and relaxed afterwards. Once you could do that without panting and twitching with pain, he moved up. Light cardio and weights. You’d managed alright with that. Your stamina was shot but you were strong. Now, Milo had moved on to C.P.A.T. specifics. 

You’d passed the Candidate Physical Ability Test with flying colors the last time you’d taken it, but that felt like a lifetime ago. You were younger, stronger, fitter. What came to you naturally at eighteen made you wheeze at twenty-seven. Milo cast his gaze across the practice course before cutting those clever eyes back to you and your sorry state.

“There aren’t any weight class requirements for the physical.” You snapped. 

“No,” Milo replied, “but you’re not gonna get through the endurance test like this. You’re gonna fall out.” 

“I guarantee you I won’t.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, doll.” 

“Call me that again and I’ll knock your teeth out.” 

“Twenty?”

“Fifty.”

You won, just barely. Milo had a point, though. Running that course in full turnouts, hauling that ladder, scaling it, finding the hidden dummies in the fake building’s facade and hauling them back down, dragging the dummies and the ladder back the safe distance requirements; it was nearly too much for you. By the time you’d finished the run, you were gasping for breath, gripping at your protesting ribs, and dumping the dummies at your feet without a care for their ‘wellbeing.’ That part wasn’t new. It was a habit from your days as a probie you couldn’t shake. This time, though, it was done with some extra disdain. 

Milo clapped a fifty in your hand and let you catch your breath before he tugged off your turnouts, up your tank top, and pressed his thin, clever fingers into your flesh to check your ribs. 

“You’re gonna make me blush.” You gasped. Milo sneered. 

“You’re gonna get yourself killed if you don’t give your body what you need. You have to eat to heal.” He shook his head, dark curls bouncing this way and that. You patted him on the head the way you knew he hated. 

“You’re preaching to the choir. David’s already working on me.” 

“He’s got the patience of a Saint.” 

“No, he’s just force feeding me.” 

“Good.” 

You were eating three square meals a day, all packed with protein and healthy fats and carbs. Whenever David wasn’t putting out fires, both literal and figurative, he was cooking. He put more plates in front of you than you could manage in a day. It was the biggest bulk you’d experienced in your life, and even it was falling short of what your body needed. To be completely fair to David’s efforts, your body had always run on fumes. There had never been enough to go around. You had gotten used to making that work. 

David surrounded you with abundance. The tension of your sort-of-fight had eased. He had started asking you questions. They were uncomfortable, and you were finding it harder and harder to dodge them. 

You were going to spill your guts soon. You could feel it crawling up and out of you. You were going to lay down your load at David’s feet, unburden yourself through clenched teeth and let him take the weight. You’d done it with Gabe. David looked so much like him. 

You hit the showers, scrubbing the sweat from your skin. The cold tile made your toes curl. The lines of your tattoos were raised with cold and irritation from the cheap body wash that was stocked in all of the shower stalls. You ran ghost-soft touch over all of them before moving on to your scars. The one over your side, the newest one, was still pink and new. If you pressed hard enough on the two inches of clean, stitched skin, it still hurt. 

David caught you in the locker room as you slipped a D.F.D sweatshirt over your head. You’d slowly moved your meager belongings from your shitty studio to the last locker in the row at the 10-19. David had offered you plenty of his own clothes, but you didn’t like to wear them. Not the way that his spouse did, anyway. The little Shaw slid one of his giant tee-shirts over their head and wore it like a badge of honor, like a mark of ownership. You didn’t own David. You certainly didn’t plan on letting him own you. As it stood, the majority of your wardrobe was either covered in blood or stolen pieces from the D.F.D.’s lost and found. 

“Hey,” you mumbled, pushing your still-wet hair away from your face, “are you done, do we need to go?” 

“No,” David shook his head. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his uniform pants. “I’ve got a few more hours. Look, I reactivated your D.F.D. email account. There’s a form in there for the next C.P.A.T.. Fill it out sometime today.” 

“Okay.” You nodded. “When is it?” 

“Three weeks.” David said. “I can get you back on the job within forty-eight hours if you pass it.” 

“If?” You grinned. “I recall holding a record with my last one.” 

“Yeah well,” David shrugged, “you were a spring chicken then. We’ve gotten old.”

“Speak for yourself, Shaw.” You flashed teeth. “I could still kick your ass.” 

“Email. Form. Today.” David barked. You could tell, somewhere in your gut, that he was joking just as much as you were. 

“Yes, Captain, sorry, Captain.” You clicked your heels together in a salute as he rolled his eyes and retreated down the hallway towards his office. A smile slid over your face as he left you alone in the cold, quiet locker room. 

You D.F.D. email had two-thousand-and-seventy-three unread messages waiting for you once you’d managed to remember the password. You flopped down on a couch in the bunk room and sighed as you clicked into the newest one, skimming the form to sign up for the C.P.A.T.. Something about filling out that form, going to that test, made your chest hurt. It made all of it, being back here at the 10-19 feel… real. That was a dangerous thing for you. You couldn’t explain why. 

November was drawing towards a close. The cold had long settled over Dahlia and into your blown, shitty joints. You could do the C.P.A.T., you could not do it. December would come on either way. 

You clicked out of the form, out of the email, and back to your inbox. Maybe you’d feel more inclined to carry on with your future when all of the spam messages were gone. 

Spam. Advertisement. Debt collector. Spam. Medical bill. Spam. 

You almost swiped it right into your archives when your eyes caught on the subject line of a message from an email address consisting entirely of scrambled numbers and letters. That was usually enough for you to chuck the whole thing as bullshit. The subject, though, made your heart squeeze. You sat up on the couch, your feet hitting the ground. You needed your boots flat on the floor. You needed your legs under you when you read this. You might need to run. 

Back home so soon, Precious? 

Bile rose up in your throat, acidic and cutting. You swallowed hard and clicked on the address’s icon. Copy, paste, the address went into your search bar and twenty-odd unopened messages popped up. 

California state employees’ email addresses all followed the same formula. Last name, first initial. It would be so easy for Quinn to find it. 

You scrolled down to the earliest message and opened it up. The subject line made your hands shake; I’m never far behind, you know.

It was a picture of you from sometime in September. You were still black and blue from the fight you two had devolved into. You were standing in a gas station somewhere in Washington, staring at two different, overpriced painkiller options. You’d killed that bottle in less than a week. 

You’d known, in your gut, that Quinn would follow you when you ran. You hadn’t noticed him. You thought for sure, if he was that close, you’d have noticed. 

It was more of that. A picture of you in a diner, flirting with the waitress who gave you free pie. A shot of the back of your head in a Greyhound bus heading for California. You through the stained, narrow windows of your shitty apartment. 

Sam and his EMT’s leaving the night you’d been stabbed. 

Sam’s truck in the firehouse parking lot. 

Sam at lunch in a plush restaurant with a handsome man in his mid-forties. 

Sam sitting on the porch of his cabin, coffee cup in his hand. He looked so peaceful, his eyes closed and head tilted back against his rocking chair. 

Vincent in his fancy car, kissing who you assumed to be his partner in a school parking lot. He’d mentioned that they worked in an elementary school. 

Sam’s Probie walking towards a nightclub, their arm linked with a drop-dead-gorgeous man, surrounded by friends. 

David outside of a fire, smudged with soot, directing the scene like a conductor. 

Little Shaw standing at the sink, scrubbing the remnants of dinner from a plate, taken through the slots in the pantry door. 

He had been inside David’s house. He had stood three feet away from them and taken that picture. He was close enough to hear the little songs they hummed to themself whenever it got too quiet. 

You locked your phone, stuffed it into your pocket, and moved. You barely made it to the bathroom before you lost your lunch. 

He could get inside the house. He had gotten inside the house. There was no telling how long he’d stayed there. He could be there right now, waiting in the shadows for somebody to pass by and make an example out of. You had to tell David. You had to make them leave, had to put them both somewhere safe and torch the fucking place. It was tainted. He’d been in there, and it would never be safe again. 

Hands shaking, you replied to that last picture, staring at their tiny frame and estimating how long it would take Quinn to subdue them. Seconds. He could kill them in seconds. 

What do you want? 

The response was almost instant. 

You. 

He attached an address. You didn’t need to punch it in anywhere to know it. Max’s was familiar ground. The house ordered from there more than anywhere else, and Gabe’s accident had been just down the road. 

It got dark early this time of year, and by the time you emerged from the bathroom, the sun had set and night shift had invaded the building. You could smell dinner on the stove and hear the chatter of the house through the walls. If you hung a left, you’d be surrounded by them. You could find David, ask him to talk. He would know what to do about Quinn. He would handle it. 

Quinn was dangerous. David could handle himself, but Quinn fought dirty. David couldn’t win against him, not playing by the rules. 

No, you had to handle this yourself. David was already in danger, his spouse too. Quinn liked to aim for the weakest link. He liked to strike where it was easy to do real damage without taking any injuries himself. That’s where he’d hit you. The only way you’d learned to make him back off was to hit him head on, to not even give him the chance to find your weak point. 

He knew you just about as well as you knew him, of course. You’d have to hope he wouldn’t call your bluff. You’d have to hope he wouldn’t smell the terror rolling off of you in waves. 

You retreated away from the noise, from the sounds of your house, and towards the ambulance bay. You could sneak out the backdoor, have it out with Quinn, and be back before David was any the wiser. You gripped your hand into a fist as you shrugged on your jacket and shouldered open the back door. 

“Darlin’,” Sam’s voice called from inside. You stilled, boots just barely on the icy sidewalk outside. You turned, your hands still fists at your sides. Sam’s uniform collar was unbuttoned. He must have been getting off shift. “Where ‘ya running off to?” 

“Mother hen.” You muttered bitterly. Sam smiled anyway, seeming almost… bashful. “Just going on. Meeting somebody. Shouldn’t be long.” 

“Well, I’m off.” Sam reached inside to grab his jacket off the rack. “Let me drive you. It’s cold as all hell.”

“I’m fine.” You shook your head and stepped back. “Really.” You did not want to introduce Sam to Quinn. You didn’t want Quinn to make any assumptions. You didn’t want Sam to hear the things he was going to say to you, about you. Whatever you were, whatever parts of you Quinn had broken, whatever parts of you had always been broken, Sam didn’t know about them. You didn’t want him to see you and all of your broken parts in the naked light.

“Is it… um… are you going to see him?” Sam squinted at you, his jacket still in his hands. You swallowed. Your poker face crumbled. You’d never been a good liar. 

“Sam,” you started, hands clenching and unclenching. 

“I’ll take you.” He said decisively. You blinked, surprised. You were expecting him to try and talk you out of it. 

“You… you’ll take me?” 

“I’m sure as shit not letting you go alone.” Sam grinned like it was such a ridiculous notion that it was funny. “Come on, we can talk on the ride.” 

You were quiet for most of it, your throat constricting over all of the warnings and defenses you desperately wanted to spew. Instead, you answered each of Sam’s questions steadily, one word at a time. 

“How’d he reach you?” 

“Email.” 

“And he followed you here?” 

“Yeah.” 

“So he knows where to find ‘ya if you don’t go to him.” 

“Yeah.” 

“He’s liable to start a fight?”

“If not him, then me.” 

“And he fights dirty?” 

“He brings guns to knife fights, let’s put it that way.” 

“I understand.” 

“Do you?” You turned to him from the passenger seat, your face pinched and twisted in concern. Your teeth worried over the scar on your top lip. Sam’s eyes caught yours, brown gone red with the street light. 

“I do.” His shaking fingers tapped against the steering wheel in an awkward, unsteady rhythm. “Better than I can put into words.” 

The parking lot outside of Max’s was full this time of night, so Sam parked across the street. You spotted him through the wide, bright windows. Quinn had taken up a booth at the back of the small restaurant. His feet were kicked up on the table, shitty, worn boots smearing dirt across the clean surface. He was flirting with the teenage server who was refilling his coke. She blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The guy behind the counter was eyeing the two of them nervously. Anybody who had ever known an asshole before could see right through Quinn if they tried hard enough. That was why he had to flirt with teenagers. 

Quinn turned suddenly, stiff and aware. His bright, blue eyes caught yours through the window. His face split out into a terrible, toothy grin as he beckoned you inside.