#I had a lesson today though and felt like. in awe

[whenlilyfallsinlove]

the three times you and georgie cooper were jealous of each other and the one time you acted on it

a/n: ahh first post!! i was actually watching young sheldon while writing this :) sad it's the last season but excited for georgie and mandy spin off!! anyway felt like there was a lack of georgie x readers so wrote this with my fav trope! enjoy!

i - the time when veronica duncan punched georgie in the face

"and then... she punched me in the face!" your best friend georgie recounted to you, as you sat on the front porch of his house, a can of beer in both your hands.

"she punched you in the face, in front of everyone?!" you chuckle, raising an eyebrow.

"yeah.." he replied.

"no way! what did you even do?!" you take a sip of your beer, looking at him. your best friend georgie was one of your favourite people in the whole world and very good looking, hey! you were allowed to say that!

"i kinda.. told her i loved her. in front of the whole church." georgie muttered, slightly flustered.

"you what?!" you spluttered, hardly believing a word he was saying.

georgie saw the look on your face.

"hey i'm not lying!" he says, chuckling.

"what did you expect?!?! poor girl. you barely know her georgie!" you laugh teasingly, this boy really was something else. you had grown up alongside the boy and everything he did even to this day still surprised you.

"i know but i'm bummed by it.. i really like her y/n." he looks at you with wide eyes. he sounded... serious?

this stopped you laughing.

"you really like her huh?" you look at him, encouraging him to say more.

"yeah.. look" georgie sighs, taking a swig of his beer. "i've never felt this way about any girl before. ever."

oh. why did this feel like a massive kick in the stomach? your insides had gone all funny.

"oh.." you mutter, looking down. "didn't realise you were that serious."

"yeah.. i need to make it up to her, i care about her.. even if she don't about me" georgie sighs.

woah he really seemed to care about her. why did this aggravate you so much? veronica was a nice girl, pretty and kind.. even if she did (rightfully) punch him in the face. she was good to your best friend. so why didn't you feel supportive?

"don't worry georgie.." you reach out and comfortingly pat his arm "she's a nice girl, she'll forgive you."

he smiles and wraps his arm round you "thanks y/n, you're the best friend ever, ya know that?"

"yep.. what would you do without me." you chuckle, nervously.

friend. why did him referring to you as that make you feel queasy? that's what you were, right? best friends? this felt weird though.. different.

you suddenly felt sick.

"look i gotta get home.. got a lot of homework" you stand, trying to ignore the feelings you were currently having.

"going so soon l/n?" georgie grins.

"yeah sorry.." you chuckle "good luck with the veronica thing anyway.. i'll see you tomorrow."

"see ya" he smiles and waves you off.

you wave back and walk down the street to your house, thinking about what had just happened.

the sickness feeling, the disgust, the small bit of sadness you felt when georgie said he'd never felt that way before

then it sunk in. you were jealous. fuck!

ii - the time that guy from your spanish class asked you out

spanish was somehow both your favourite and least favourite class. i mean you hated the class - you were awful at it but you got to sit next to georgie in it.. so maybe it wasn't too bad.

today started like any other spanish lesson. you listened to the teacher drone on about grammar, you and georgie had a footsie war under the table etc. everything was normal. that was until the end of the lesson.

you were packing away your notebooks, listening to georgie babble on about football when adam, the boy who sat in front of you, approached you.

"hey y/n" adam smiled shyly at you,

"oh uh hey adam" you said friendly enough, but very confused on why he was speaking to you.

you weren't the only one confused. next to you, georgie had been interrupted by this exchange and had stopped talking, now listening, his eyebrow raised.

"uh i was wondering.. if you'd like to see the new ghostbusters movie with me tomorrow night.. its okay if not, i understand." adam chuckled nervously.

georgie frowned at this. who did this adam guy think he was, asking you out to the movies? he didn't even know you! who asks someone out that they don't even know.. this guy was a total weirdo. there was no way you were gonna say yes.

"um.. okay" you interrupted his train of thought. adam was quite handsome, and seemed nice. and although it was bad to admit, you needed a distraction from the unknown feelings you were having for your best friend.

your answer shocked georgie. why on earth did you say yes? did you feel bad for him or something.. or maybe you just wanted to see the new ghostbusters? he would've taken you if that was the case! not this idiot.

"oh good. i'll pick you up at 7 tomorrow then?" adam smiles at you, and god georgie wanted to punch him.

"yeah okay." you smile back, and watched as he waved at you then left class.

"well that was.." you turn to georgie, who is not looking at you but is looking straight ahead.

"let's go to lunch." georgie ignores you and starts walking off.

"oh okay" you mutter, then follow him.

georgie was mad. this guy didn't deserve you, he was definitely punching! you were beautiful and deserved someone way better. someone like.. him! but no you were best friends.. he couldn't ruin that. but the more he thought about it the more he realised he was jealous.

you were his, not that adams! that was the day georgie cooper realised he liked you, his best friend.

iii- the time georgie ditched you to hang out with jana boggs

every summer, you tagged along with the coopers (well more so georgie but you had long since been accepted as a member of the familt) to the carnival set up by pastor jeff and the church.

every year, you and georgie usually went off together and did your own thing but this year was different. georgie had been dating jana for a while now and of course it was only normal for him to not hang with you as much and you shouldn't get mad at him for wanting to spend time with her.. right?

"oh look.. jana's over there." georgie chuckles, awkwardly looking to where his girlfriend was stood.

"yep." you reply.

"and she looks.. pretty lonely" georgie states, again awkwardly.

"uh huh" you nod.

"maybe she needs someone to talk to?" he says.

"hey i get the hint, you go hang with her.. she's your girlfriend after all, i'll stay here with missy" you try and say encouragingly, but your voice wobbles slightly.

"really?!" george smiles.

"yeah!" you reply.

"you're the best" he gives you a tight hug. "i owe you one!"

"don't worry" you say, watching him walk off to jana " that's what friends are for" you mutter.

you look to the ground. it felt like it was time to finally accept that you liked georgie a lot. and not just as a friend.

"that was pretty sad to watch" missy speaks up, looking at you half sympathetically, half in enjoyment.

"well i'm glad my sad life gives you joy." you let out a weak laugh.

"look i've always liked you y/n, you're cool, and i've always thought you can do wayyy better than my dumb brother" she tries to comfort you.

"well thanks." you smile.

"and just so you know... i think georgie likes you back. he's just stupid.. and scared." missy smiles.

"i hope that's the case." you smile back.

as you watch georgie laugh along with jana, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy.

you really liked your best friend.

iv - the time where missy matchmakes.

"georgie.. please please please can you take me and marcus to the movies tonight" missy begged, standing in georgie's doorway.

"missy.. i'm supposed to be hanging with y/n tonight." georgie frowned, secretly he had hoped tonight would be the night he might finally confess to you.

"bring her with you! she loves me." missy smiles smugly.

"we'll see." georgie sighs.

four hours later, georgie, y/n and missy were in the car, going to pick marcus up. georgie didn't take much convincing after learning it would entail missy and her boyfriend being alone, and you were quick to accept to come with.

"so missy.. how serious are you and marcus?" you ask, turning round and smiling at her.

"we're kinda serious.. we've held hands a bunch and hugged. we haven't kissed.. but we've shared a straw" she replies, subtly bragging.

"oh wow pretty serious then." you chuckle. georgie smiles at you. he loved that you got on so well with his family, it was something he'd always liked about you.

there was silence for a while.

"can i ask you guys a personal question?" missy breaks the silence.

"umm sure" georgie responds as you nod.

"so you're both single..."

"thanks for the reminder" you smile playfully.

"and i know jana broke up with georgie because of you y/n.."

"how do you know that" georgie exclaims, confused.

"i know everything." missy deadpans. "and i also heard you on the phone to each other."

"anyway.." she continues "why don't you just date each other? it's very clear that you like each other, everyone can see it. it's simple." she says, proudly.

both your eyes widen. you were not expecting that. you start uncomfortably laughing and turn to look at georgie.

georgie was looking straight forward , avoiding eye contact.

"well.." you start "i don't think i'm georgie's type.."

"you kidding?" georgie exclaims. "not my type? of course you are! i compare every girl i ever meet to you!"

you sat shocked. what. the. hell.

"you do?" you look at him.

"of course i do. i like you a lot y/n." georgie blushes, avoiding eye contact.

your heart stopped. finally!!

"oh really? georgie i also like you a lot!" you smile, brightly.

"you do?" georgie grins.

"yeah of course i do! i have for ages.. i was jealous of jana.. and damn this was ages ago but i was jealous of veronica as well!" you chuckle.

"no way!! i was jealous of that adam guy! and pretty much any other guy who talked to you as well!" georgie replies, smirking.

you smile.

"i was just too nervous to say anything." you say.

"holy shit, me too!" georgie agrees.

you reach over and touch his shoulder. he smiles back. and at that moment although it sounded cheesy, it did really feel like a moment from a romcom.

"aww that was real cute guys." missy smiles.

"but don't you dare say any of that cheesy stuff when marcus is in the car!"

[jarofstyles]

Put Your Records On

This is a little thing I came up with at 2 am and kept writing till 5 lol. It's pop star y/n x rock star H. I don't do a lot of canon H and some things are changed/ don't fit into the real one but that's on purpose. Part two will be up very soon!

Check out our Patreon for early access to part 2 and 170+ exclusive writings!

WC- 4.2k

Warnings- dirty talk, mention of bullying (Brief)

She saw him from across the room- well, more like felt him. The room had a buzz in it that it hadn’t before.

It was common knowledge that he was going to be there. One of his best friends was hosting the after party for the BRIT awards, and she had been lucky enough to be invited considering her manager had been friends with the group for a while. Actually, it was a bit shocking that she’d never met the man considering how close their circles ran. She’d met a lot of his management and production team, even a few members of his band- but never the man himself. 

It was her second year after making it big on the music scene but her entire life, she’d been working towards this. School musicals, voice lessons, guitar and piano lessons, music had become her flesh and blood and she was determined to make it her bread and fucking butter. She’d been blessed with her voice and a talent like hers wasn’t one to waste, that’s what her parents had said as she grew up- and it had all paid off. She went home with Best New Artist and was coming down on the buzzing high of another huge accomplishment of her career. 

Harry was infamous, at the top of the damn world and everyone knew his name. He was just about to hop back on tour, one Y/N had been invited to attend by his manager himself. It seemed like today was the day they would finally meet in person, and judging by the recognition in his eye, he had heard about her too. 

God, that made her want to vomit. Growing up she’d been a casual fan of his band, been to a few shows even after scraping together enough money for a ticket along with her best friend. Said friend was lost somewhere in the room and Y/N knew she had a knack for awful timing, but as the man got closer to her she felt her insides begin to bubble. She wasn’t one to get starstruck super easily, thank god, but it was hard not to feel intimidated as he approached her. A black blazer with a very sheer pink blouse underneath, pants tight on the thighs and flared at the calves, necklaces hanging in a thatch of thin chest hair, she’d felt her mouth dry as his smile was given directly to her. Someone she’d grown up singing to in her bedroom, right into her hairbrush, was grinning at her like she was someone important. 

“So we finally meet.” Harry reached his hand out to shake hers. Clunky rings covered the digits as her own took them, shaking his warm hand with her own smile on her face. She’d been on stage in front of tens of thousands of people, and yet he was a bit more intimidating. Still she was going to do her best to use her brief acting skills and pretend her heart wasn’t in her throat. “I’ve heard so much about you- your album’s fucking brilliant.”

He was tipsy, she could see that much. His eyes were slightly hooded and he had a looser demeanor than he had seated at the table ahead of her at the awards show. Good for him. It wasn’t likely that he did this too much. It was well known that he wasn’t much for drinking during his working season and he’d won two awards! That called for drinks all around. 

What took her off guard, though, was the fact that he’d listened to her album. He listened and he had said it was good? Her cheeks heated as she realized he was still holding her hand, gently letting it fall as he took a step closer. It was a little loud out there but not too bad if you were close enough. “You think so? I’m hoping it’s all good things.” She let out a laugh she hoped sounded natural, adjusting her hair. The girl had always been one to fuss with her clothes when she was nervous but hopefully he didn’t realize that. “So is yours. Got quite a few on my playlists.” 

“Yeah?” His smile grew bigger. “Which ones?” Y/N felt the lump in her throat as she tried not to think about how good he smelled. It was so creepy, noticing that. There was a faint hint of tobacco and the tiniest bit of alcohol, but he smelled really warm. Cuddly, in a way. It made sense in her brain, but she was also a drink in at this point. 

“Mmm, I have a few from other albums but from the latest? Satellite, that’s the go to for the gym for me… Late Night Talking, very relatable for me. Erm… Boyfriends, unfortunately.” She saw him give a playful wince. “Yeah, men are shit- no offence. And then I’d say Daydreaming is a personal favorite. As It Was was brilliant, obviously, but Daydreaming is my favorite.” It felt like maybe she word-vomited a little but he’d listened to every word, seeming pleased with her answers. 

“Daydreaming isn’t one I hear of being a favorite, usually. M’chuffed that it’s yours.” He genuinely seemed happy about it. “I really liked the closing track of your album- it’s so rare to find albums that tell a story, that are thoughtfully laid out, at least at this point in time. I love to listen from front to back and it was laid out perfectly. Usually m’a bit of a snob and would have some critiques but you nailed it.” 

Y/N preened. It wasn’t a compliment she got often and it shocked her because that meant he’d really listened. Really paid attention to her music and took time with her album. It was extremely flattering. Surreal, really. Who could have told 15 year old Y/N that Harry would be a fan of her fucking music? She’d probably pass the fuck out. “I’m shocked you got that, but thank you. Yeah, I did the same thing growing up. It was my favorite part of music I’d find, seeing how stuff flowed together. Top to bottom and then bottom to top, then I can shuffle.” It was said in a slightly joking tone but she was fully serious. 

“You get it, Y/N.” He reached out to nudge her shoulder. “I’ve been trying to meet you for a bit but my schedule’s been hectic. Thought it wouldn’t be since we’ve been going for a bit now but tour prep… can be brutal, y’know?” 

Y/N did know, but on a minuscule scale compared to what his tour probably entailed. He was doing stadiums, for god’s sake! Y/N’s arena tour sold out quickly, but there was a huge size difference in where they were. Hopefully she’d reach his level one day. “I do, I do. It’s not a big deal, I didn’t think you were avoiding me or anything.” For a bit she did, but that was wiped away when she’d realized he released the tour dates. It had been months of almost meetings but she had faith in the universe. When it was meant to happen, it would. 

“God no, I was excited to. Did y’want to come sit with us over there?” He motioned to the private area she was allowed into but not been brave enough to venture to quite yet. 

“Sure, that would be nice.” Y/N hadn’t expected to be invited to sit with him personally, let alone feel his hand on her back as he led them through the crowd of people in the room. The star said hellos as he walked through but somehow had mastered the art of saying hi without being caught into a conversation without seeming rude. That was a skill she sure as hell was envious of.

His hand was really fucking warm. She could feel slight calluses on his fingertips, in true musician fashion, but they weren’t as rough as one would originally expect. Her backless dress did her no favors in hiding the warmth and how nice and comforting his touch felt, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank or scowl at her stylist. It wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the dress they’d pulled for the carpet, thankfully this dress was a slinky, emerald green one with room for her legs to actually move. Her updo had been taken down to a mess of curls that nearly reached where his hands were- the power of extensions. As heavy as her head felt, she couldn’t deny that she felt exceptionally beautiful. Thank god the universe had chosen today to meet Harry. 

“Finally!” Sarah sighed. “I’ve been waiting for you two to meet for ages. Come sit.” The woman had always been very sweet, even more sweet with a few drinks in her. Saying her hellos to the familiar people, she felt Harry sit himself next to her in the booth and immediately drinks were brought over. So this is why it was VIP. It was a lemon drop, something Y/N did happen to like. Harry handing her one before taking his own was unexpected but very appreciated, a gentle thank you exchanged as he settled back next to her. 

It was unreal to be here. To be sat at a table of friendly but insanely successful people, feel like part of the ‘in’ crowd, it had completely blindsided her. This was the sort of thing that she’d always thought about when she was in her bed at home as a teenager, hoping one day to rub elbows with the people she once admired so much they had space on her bedroom wall, and here it was. Someone who’s face was on her favorite bedtime tee shirt (Those merch shirts were expensive and she wasn’t about to get rid of it because a member was now in her circle). 

“Y/N, did you know that H added some of your songs to the preshow playlist in his dressing room?” Sarah hummed. 

“You did?” The girl gasped as she looked at him. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn she saw a bit of a pink glint to his cheeks. Maybe it was the alcohol. 

“He did, and he’s been raving about it to Mitch. Sometimes he’s singing it when we pass, that one song about the… what’s it called? The Raven? Some sort of bird.” 

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Mitch had to laugh at her airing a bit of Harry’s business, but she was a chatterbox when she was drunk. 

“That’s so nice!” Y/N said shyly. “You’re on mine too, actually. The dressing room for me and the one the fans listen to, I can hear them sing it from backstage.”

Harry’s leg was pressed into hers so she didn’t have to turn far to look at him, watching him finish his drink as he nodded. “I do, yeah. Told you I liked your music. I meant it.”

“Yeah, if he didn’t he wouldn’t mention it. That’s why when he met that girl earlier he just said it was nice to meet-” Sarah was cut off by her husband asking her if she wanted to see something on his phone, putting Harry out of his misery. 

“M’not an ass.” He groaned. “I just didn’t vibe with the album, y’know? I won’t say things I don’t mean but that doesn’t mean I can’t be polite.”

“Agree, 100%. It’s easy when it’s just a taste thing, but I’ve found it harder with people I’ve seen or heard talk bad about me and it’s confirmed. Dunno how you’re able to do that.” Y/N struggled to not show her nerves or distaste of people sometimes and it was something she was constantly working on. Her best friend often had to tell her to adjust her facial expressions and she’d even gone viral once for a ‘stink face’ she’d made at someone. It was accidental of course, but it’d also caused one of her first big waves of hate. 

“It’s not easy, and anyone who says so is lying.” Harry confirmed. “It’s taken me years. Said something about pussy on tv not realizing the cameras could see, so It’s trial and error.” The joke had the both of them laughing, Y/N not divulging that she indeed already knew that. “I think it’s important to just remember they’re humans and probably just as nervous t’see you. It’s just a short interaction and you can move on quickly. I also think working out, yoga, all of that helps a lot with my inner calm. It isn’t easy, like I said, but you’re also in the beginnings of your career in this sort of light. I’ve got no doubt that you’ll be able to have a good poker face by the end of the year.”

“God, I love that song.” Y/N sighed. “Poker face, loved that one I mean. But thank you. I really do appreciate the advice. I was terrified coming tonight. The award shows are much scarier than your own gigs.” 

“Oh, definitely.” Harry whistled, taking another drink from the tray and handing a fresh one to her. “S’like, you know the people who go to your shows are there for you. It’s like a little family get together, it’s safer. Those people love you enough t’buy a ticket, travel got knows how long, wears a shirt with your face on it. It’s mental to think about but incredible. These things?” He motioned around the room. “All marketing and partying, but more drama. S’crazy how many people have slept with each other in this room.” Harry realized a bit too late that he’d said too much but thankfully Y/N just giggled in agreement. “You seem to take to it quite well though. Not to sound weird but I saw you accept your awards and socialize a bit here, you’ve probably got the whole room fooled.”

That was a relief and a compliment in her opinion. The goal was to make sure no one sensed the weakness. Unfortunately she’d learned early on that these people could sniff it out like a shark in bloodied water. “That’s the goal.” She replied, leaning back into the seat. Her back was killing her from the bloody heels on her feet and how tight her other dress was, so it was a relief to have this reprieve from them sitting here. 

“So tell me about your tour then. What’s going on with that?”

—-----------

Y/N was drunk. Certifiably hammered. She had one too many lemon drops and apparently, so did Harry. Some of the people had vacated the booth and it left them alone as they talked amongst themselves. With the aid of the liquid courage, she wasn’t losing her mind over how close they were. Sure, her heart was still going a million miles a minute, but that was due to his fingers fiddling with the strap of her dress. Harry was, evidently, a touchy drunk. Clingy. He’d even followed her to the bathroom and waited for her outside before they’d returned. 

In all honesty, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t believe all of this in the morning. That Harry had ignored everyone else in favor of talking to her, tucked away in VIP at a round table, his body closer than it needed to be considering the space. They’d talked about a lot of industry things, but more so the fun and personal. She told him about her collection of band tee shirts and admitting to not having listened to all the bands she wore, but he didn’t judge her for it. Said he went through a phase of doing the same while in the band. She told him about her cat, a Siamese named Simon and he’d cooed over photos on her phone about how cute he’d looked with his collar that had a little flower on it. So many topics were covered, so many things discussed in the last two hours that she felt like she was getting a handle on who he was. 

Though this many drinks, it was bleeding into oversharing.

“Your ex was at the awards?” He asked, eyes slightly red but widening as she dropped the tidbit.

“Yep.” The p in the word was exaggerated with a pop of her lips and an eye roll. “Note to you for the future, don’t fuck anyone involved in your production team. Makes for a nasty breakup and a lot of rude ‘inside sources’ with the press.” Her lips flattened. “And he couldn’t even make me finish, so. Fuck him.”

Harry’s eyes widened further before he groaned, his head dropping to the side onto the leather booth seat. “No, not that, Y/N. C’mon.” He seemed a bit distraught. “It’s always those guys that make your life hell, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I did learn that a bit early on.” He seemed to remember it but she didn’t ask. If he didn’t divulge it, she wasn’t going to pry. “You got the shit end of the stick. It’s one of my embarrassments being a male. Y’don’t have to be a rocket scientist to learn how to pleasure a woman.”

“You’d think.” She scoffed. “Swear, men in LA don’t know how to use any of their appendages. Used like a human fleshlight so I stopped hooking up with people. It got discouraging after the fifth time I left. Not a single one know where the clit is.” It was an unfortunate truth. Maybe she was looking in the wrong places or had a string of bad luck, but she’d been voluntarily celibate because of it. “Doubt you know what m’talking about, Mr Watermelon Sugar.”

Y/N realized her internal thought had become an external one when he broke out into his own giggles, her face heating. She’d definitely not meant for that to be said out loud, but thankfully he didn’t seem offended. It was the truth anyways, any man who loved pleasuring a woman so much that he wrote a whole song about it had to know what he was doing.

As his giggles came down, he replied. “Well, I’d like t’think I do. I…” He swallowed. “Know we just met, but overshare?” Scooting closer, he watched her nod. “I think I get off more on getting other people off, if that makes sense. Like, making someone feel good. I dunno if it’s some sort of ego thing, but I enjoy it a lot. Being the cause of pleasure. Think it probably ties in to a bit of a praise kink I’ve got, but it’s the truth.” 

Y/N had never thought she’d get into this sort of conversation with the man, let alone in a dark corner at the BRITs afterparty, but she wasn’t about to complain. “So it’s true then?” She rose an eyebrow. “You really love eating pussy?” Drunk Y/N had officially taken over. A bit of a drunk, horny Y/N she’d been trying to repress. In the morning she would be mortified that she asked that, but right now she was genuinely curious. 

“I do.” He smirked. “I dunno there’s just something about it. Being the one to make someone gasp. When it feels so good they try and push and pull you at the same time. Love the taste, love t’hear the noises. Maybe it’s a little arrogant of me but your name sounds better when it’s said with pleasure, don’t you think?” 

Y/N should have known better than to ask. Harry was a very attractive, alluring man, he was close to her and smelled so fucking good and god damn it, she was already horny. Her cunt throbbed and she knew she was going to have a wet patch in her thong when she left, but she was a glutton for punishment. “I do. I like giving for the same reason.” She admitted. “I’ve always had a lack of gag reflex so, it’s made it easier for me than other people probably have it.”

Harry’s interest seemed to be stroked, fingers brushing over her bare neck as she spoke. It was hard to concentrate here, with him so close. But Y/N always did like to be a bit of a tease, brushing the tip of her foot over the back of his leg. Maybe they were playing a dangerous game talking about this, but no one else was around. She didn’t fall back when his head dipped slightly, getting closer than necessary. “Look at us then. What a pair.” 

“I know. You’re just bold enough to write a whole song about it.” Her finger poked him playfully in the chest. 

“M’not apologetic about it. A woman’s pleasure is important and often overlooked. Makes me sad that no one’s made you feel good in that long. I hope you’re taking care of yourself at the very least.” Oh, she was. And she would be when she got back to her hotel tonight. Thank god for the suction vibrators. 

“I do, but it’s not the same as having someone else do it for you.” Her drunk self told her it as a good idea to pout, trying not to breath too hard as his fingers caressed the nape of her neck. “Sometimes I just miss the touch of another human, you know? Even innocent touches but, there’s nothing like being fucked so hard you feel it the next day. Feels like it’s impossible to find it anymore.” 

“It’s not.” He replied. Eyes were staring into her own. “You’re fucking stunning. Especially tonight, you could pull anyone in the room.” Gaze dipped down to her cleavage, not hiding that he was looking. Heat that had been bubbling in her stomach spread through the rest of her body, his touch igniting a bit of a spark. 

“Anyone?” Her head tilted to the side. The tension had been growing a bit with the two of them but now it was thick in the air. There was no denying that there was an attraction between them but it was palpable now. “So if I wanted to, I could pull you?” Y/N had no idea if he was even available for anything right now. It wasn't’ a smart idea considering how closely they worked near each other, but right now all she could think about was the fact that she had full confidence that Harry could give her the feelings that she wanted- the fuck she needed. 

“Absolutely. M’hanging on by a thread here.” His voice deepened, face far closer to hers than should be appropriate for two people who just met. “I’ve been trying to be a gentleman all night. M’a bit of a slut sometimes but hookups aren’t usually my thing. Was trying to figure out a way to ask you out but, I’ve been a little nervous.” Fingers curled around the back of her neck as their noses brushed. ‘But fuck it, right?” Warm breaths puffed against each others, leaving the ball in Y/N’s court. 

“Fuck it.” 

Harry took that and ran. Lips pressed against hers as he cradled her neck, angling her how he wanted while he slowly kissed her. It was shockingly intimate despite the setting, smooth, soft lips sucking lightly against hers. There was no sign of stopping as her mouth opened for him, letting their tongue brush and the heat rise between them. His body angled slightly to cover hers from view, he let out a low groan in his throat as her hand raised to his hair. It was soft and a bit long for him as of late, but it felt good between her fingers. His other hand held the side of her face, so gentle but solid that she knew she’d give into any of his demands. 

The party raged on behind them but they got lost in the kisses, one turning to three, turning to ten and they hardly came up for air. There was no doubt her makeup was going to be fucked up, that her lipstick was done for, but there was no better way to ruin it. “Y’taste so sweet.” Harry’s words were whispered against her swelling lips. “And you smell so good. Been driving me a bit crazy. Wanted to meet you for ages cause I knew we’d get on… but didn’t think we’d get on this well.” He chuckled into the kiss, squeezing the back of her neck and making her melt slightly into him. “Hoped for it, though.” 

“You did?” Her own voice was breathless as she tried to catch up to his kisses.. It was hard not to get butterflies when he hummed in agreement. Harry had been excited to meet her. “Had a little crush, did you?” The statement was fully meant to be a tease, but he agreed. 

“Suppose I did.”

[kierewrites]

What Would Karma Do... when a cruel teacher attacks your class?

navi - masterlist

Karma Akabane x Reader

Mood Song: judas

Summary: Remember the beloved Assassination Classroom anime? This is pretty much that, except you enter the picture of Karma's chaotic school year. Let's see just how compatible the two of you are.

Warnings: depictions of violence, cursing, karma being a psycho (when is he not tho), angst with a tooth rotting sweet ending :3

"Woah! Is that..."

"I..It's cake!"

"Hand made eclairs too!

That was just a few of the many comments from your classmates as you all ogled over the picnic blanket full of sweet treats from all around the world. 

Most of the time your P.E. classes consisted of intense training regimens or one-on-one combat lessons with Karasuma, but today played out so much differently than any class before.

Though even with this bizarre change, you couldn't say you were upset. Today had already started rough when you learned Karma was skipping class all day, even though you begged him not to...

"Karma.. staying up late.. isn't an.. excuse for you to.. ditch.. classes!" You whined in between kisses that were surely meant to shut you up.

Karma simply rolled his eyes before pinching your nose and smirking lazily.

"You're the one keeping me up so late angel~"

Pinching your lips together into that adorable pout he loved, you smacked his hand away and narrowed your eyes down at him, "Yeah but I'm still going to class tomorrow."

Karma let out a low growl at this, flipping you over so that he was on top of you now. He tried nearly every tactic he could to convince you to ditch school with him, but even he should’ve known nothing could stand between your academic resolve.

So since your little rascal decided to truly ditch as he promised, you couldn't help but smile for the first time all day upon seeing the lovely treats before you. There were even a few custom treats from back home that you recognized.

"T..These look sorta pricey sir, are you sure?" Isogai questioned nervously, seeming to be the only student that hadn't fallen under the trance of the sweet assortments.

The new P.E. teacher simply boomed with laughter, offering a warm smile to the class.

"Yeah! Chow down kiddos!" The teacher spoke with a large grin, "I didn't break the bank so we could stare at these babies all day!"

"You really know your way around branded sweets dontcha?" Yada spoke with a grin.

Your new teacher simply smiled before closing his eyes,

"Trust me when it comes to the good stuff.. it's love~"

All of the students were in awe at such a generous and kind teacher, not that Karasuma was mean or anything, but this was not your typical day in the Assassination Classroom.

"So you're gonna take over P.E. to help Mr. Karasuma get caught up?" Nagisa questioned, though his eyes were still glued to the chocolate eclair in his hands.

"Yup! Those are my marching orders!" The teacher declared as he looked back at the blue haired boy, "Poor guy needs some time to himself."

The students all seemed to smile at that. Admittedly it felt like Karasuma was running a one man show over here. Sure Korosensei and Professor Jelavic were around, but most of the time it felt like Karasuma was even babysitting them too.

"Wow these treats are truly amazing, thank you so much-" You began, only to be interrupted by a pink blob quite literally drooling over your new P.E teacher's shoulder.

"Ah! This fellow must be Korosensei!" Your teacher exclaimed excitedly, not even minding the literal drool dripping down his shoulder, "Please help yourself!"

Those words seemed to be the final string holding your teacher back as he wildly dug into the treats on the blanket.

"You know sir, being colleagues, you and Mr. Karasuma are night and day." Kimura spoke with a tilted head, Hara joining in with a smile,

"He's nice to us and all but you're like the neighborhood dad!"

The teacher's eyes seemed to light up at that as he let out another booming laugh before dragging you all into his arms with a tight hug.

"Dad.. I like the sound of that!"

All of your classmates seemed to laugh in unison, everyone enjoying the warm embrace and not seeming to worry about the strangely kind personality the teacher had.

-

"Alright everybody here?" Your teacher spoke with a smile, standing before your classmates ready for class.

"Now things are going to be tougher than usual but stick it out like the champs I know you are and we're talking more sweets!" Mr. Takaoka spoke with a grin.

"For us? Or are you really just saving them for yourself?" Nakamura sneered.

"Nope nope..." Mr. Takaoka said with a sheepish smile as he stuck his tongue out and patted his large tummy, "Don't wanna ruin this girlish figure!"

With that the class howled into laughter. This guy was almost too good to be true. Plenty generous, good sense of humor, a true care for the craft he's teaching. He really was like a big old papa bear.

Looking around you noticed your classmates seemed happy enough, nobody was ever really smiling during P.E. class, rather panting and trying to catch their breath. Maybe this would be a good change for you guys?

"Okay then, along with your new training regimen comes a new schedule!"

You along with the rest of your students looked up to the colorful paper your teacher was holding up before raising a brow as he began to hand them out.

The schedule before you was.. chaotic to say the least. 

Almost every period was P.E. class, many of your academic electives now switched to training. Along with that instead of your normal school day length, the training went on until nine o'clock at night!

Looking up with wide eyes you noticed your classmates all looking around with the same bewildered faces. Maybe he was just joking around with you again?

"We have ten periods now?!"

"We train till nine pm?"

Your classmates all threw thirty different questions at the man who stood before you, his smile never faltering as everyone expressed their concerns about the new schedule.

"That's the idea, little grasshoppers!" Your teacher exclaimed with a smile, his joyful personality contrasting with the reality of the situation, "Don't be glum, think of the payoff! This curriculum will turn you into lean, mean, killing machines-"

"Wait hold up hold up, this is ridiculous!" Maehara interrupted, Mr. Takaoka's smile faltering, "First off this is school, we gotta think about grades too."

Mr. Takaoka simply smiled sheepishly while scratching the back of his head. Maybe this guy was just so hardcore he forgot you guys actually had to take academic classes.

"I mean come on we can't go by this! We're supposed to stu-"

The boy's words were cut off when the teacher placed a gentle palm on the top of his head. Everyone seemed to raise a brow until he lifted his knee up and slammed Maehara's chin down onto his knee with a painful crack.

The entire class gasped, your hand flying to your mouth as you backed up on your knees. Was this some sort of sick joke? Did he and Maehara practice this skit? The way his practically lifeless form dropped to the ground really didn't make it seem that way.

"Rule number one, we don't do can't." Mr. Takaoka spoke in a dark voice, his smile still spread across his lips proudly as he watched the boy twitch on the ground in pain.

"Rule number two, we are a family and I'm the dad," He continued to speak, his continuous use of the word "dad" suddenly backfiring on all of you, "Show me a family where dad ain't in charge and I'll show you a family in crisis."

The man began to lecture you all, ominous smile still spread across his face as he walked around your group with his hands expectantly behind his back.

"A father loves each of his children unconditionally, the thought of even losing one of ‘em breaks his heart. We're gonna save the world kids, and we're gonna do it as a family." Mr. Takaoka finished, gathering Mimura and Kanzaki in his arms.

All of you seemed to flinch when he did this, especially your two classmates in his embrace. The sight of both of their cringing faces made you feel hot inside, not in the good way.

"I.. Actually sir, to tell you the truth.." Kanzaki spoke nervously, tugging herself out of his embrace and standing up with her arms nervously clamped together, "I'm not much for P.E. If I have to do it, I much prefer Mr. Karasuma's class!"

You couldn't help but smile at Kanzaki. Even in such a tense situation she always made sure to remain polite and cheerful as she smiled up to the aggressive teacher.

But as soon as you saw Mr. Takaoka lick his lip you knew this wouldn't end well.

Without hesitation he smacked his hand across her face so hard she flew backwards and rolled against the dirt with a cry.

"Kanzaki!" Your classmates cried as a few rushed over to her trembling figure.

"Looks like we're having a bit of a communication gap!" Mr. Takaoka said with that same dreadfully cheerful smile. The sight made your fists clench, Nagisa already seeming to notice the gears in your head turning as he placed a gentle palm on your wrist.

"The only answer here is yes-"

"NO!"

Your sudden shout caused the teacher to pause, his head tilting as a sadistic smile formed on his lips.

"Oh?"

"You can't keep hurting our classmates just because we don't do what you say. You aren't our real teacher and your training regimen is borderline insane! How are we supposed to pass our exams with your foot up our ass till the late night hours?"

Your teacher simply chuckled as he looked at you with wide crazed eyes through his hooded expression.

"Bothers you that much little grasshopper? Come show me what you're gonna do about it then!"

Letting out an annoyed growl you got low, ready to pounce until Nagisa grabbed your wrist more firmly this time.

"Y/n don't bother, he's going to seriously hurt you! This guy clearly isn't a regular gym coach."

Ignoring what he said, all you could do was glare into this man's beady little eyes that only fueled your fire.

"Let go, Nagisa." You hissed before snatching your wrist out of his grasp and darting forward.

Nagisa along with the rest of your classmates watched nervously. As sweet as you were, some of Karma's reckless traits were really starting to rub off on you. Ever since you all had gotten kidnapped, you swore you would get stronger so you could protect everyone, but of course that didn't stop the class from worrying.

Darting forward you blocked his first swing, quickly maneuvering your footing so that you spun behind him, forming your palm to be firm and flat before chopping your hand on the back of his neck right where the pressure point is.

After watching Nagisa and Karma train together, and even getting to train a little bit with them whenever Karma would finally give in to your whining, you learned a few tricks from both of them.

Nagisa was definitely a defensive fighter, more so focused on strategic attacks and blocking. Karma was a hands on offensive attacker, he wasted no time to give the opponent a moment to think.

Finally it seemed like your training had paid off as Mr. Takaoka let out a shout of pain as he stumbled forward onto his hands and knees, your strike seeming to make his vision blur.

"Nice hit Y/n!" Nakumura shouted, your classmates all cheering for you as you wiped a blade of sweat from your forehead.

"It's just like Karma taught me, it's not about the power of your strike but the precision!" You said with a smile, giving the gym teacher one last glance.

A small part of you felt giddy about the experience as you began to rehearse in your head how you would brag to Karma about taking down a grown man. Finally your training was beginning to pay off.

As you began to walk back to your cheerful classmates you felt life almost go into slow motion when you saw Nagisa's smile begin to drop, his eyes widened as he screamed your name and pointed behind you.

Before you could even turn your head back a quarter of the way you felt a strong grip on the back of your ponytail causing you to yell out in pain when the hand tugged you backwards.

"Not so fast you smug bitch." Mr. Takaoka growled with a psychotic smile as he swung his leg up and over your body before cracking it down on your abdomen hard.

The feeling alone had the breath knocked out of you before you could even hit the ground. You let out a sharp scream until your back hit the ground so hard you bounced up from the sheer force, a garbled choke escaping your lips before you officially fell to the ground.

"Y/n!" Your class shouted, Nagisa already sliding on his knees towards you as you struggled for air, loud chokes and gasps filling the air while you shriveled up holding your abdomen in pain. The lack of air wouldn't even allow you to cry as you felt your vision grow blurry.

Nagisa quickly lifted your shirt just enough to see a dark purple bruise forming across your skin, the feeling of something warm and wet being coughed up onto his hand that was keeping you upright.

His eyes widened at the sight of blood, his eyes frantically looking down at you as more of your classmates began to try and help you up.

How had your cheerful P.E. class turned into a bloodbath?

-

Karma continued to huff out profanities as he shuffled up the dirt hill, hands shoved deep in his pockets as a scowl formed on his lips.

"Dumb angel, always making me feel so damn guilty..." Karma mumbled as he kicked a few stones on the way.

It was weird, before he met you he never really cared about anything when it came to academics. He wasn't even depressed or stupid or even lazy, he just didn't quite care.

Where was school going to get him anyway? Graduate next year and go to college to take the same brainwashing classes he's taken since he learned to walk? To get a piece of paper that says congrats, now you can make money!

It was all ridiculous to him.

But ever since your stupid adorable ass showed up into his life, he saw things differently. 

He wanted to have goals in life just to impress you, he wanted to go to college wherever you were going so you could grow together. He wanted to see the world with you, always be at your side so he would never lose you.

He could see it now, both of you finally done with all this school bullshit and sitting along the edge of a cliff that overlooked a vast blue sea as the sun would set along the dazzling colorful sky.

You would be sitting in between his crossed legs as he held you in a tight warm embrace.

"I love you Karma." You would whisper ever so gently from those sweet lips of yours as you tilted your head back so your sparkling hues could stare into his own.

Karma would smile down to you, watching as the ocean breeze danced through both of your locks as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I love you too Y/n." Karma whispered aloud, the sound of his own voice snapping him back to reality as he let out a growl and shook his head.

You were like a demon haunting his mind except quite the opposite, more like an angel from heaven always clouding his mind in the best way possible. You truly were going to be the death of him.

Once finally making it up the hill, Karma came up with the excuse that he forgot his textbook for when his classmates would surely ask why he decided to show up halfway through the day. He would never admit it was just so he could see your pretty face before the day's end.

As he shuffled up the steps lazily he raised a brow when he saw a few students outside, crowded around Mr. Karasuma and some other large man that seemed to be smiling a bit crazy.

Raising a brow he shrugged with a smirk, assuming they were doing some strange training routine.

Sliding the wood door open he walked down the hallway until he saw class 3-E and slid the door open, awaiting to see the rest of his classmates studying silently, only to find the room completely empty.

Freezing he narrowed his eyes around the room, something wasn't right.

There were only about half of his classmates outside training, you not being one of them, where could the rest of you have been? It's not like they split the boys and girls up, he saw a mix of them all outside.

Shutting the classroom door, he decided to make his way back outside until he heard a voice come from down the hall.

"Y/n you have got to stop being so reckless, it's going to get you killed one day!"

The very sentence froze Karma in his tracks, his ears perking up at the sound of your name.

Your weak cough filled the air sending chills down his spine as you spoke up.

"But I..I didn’t die, did I? I had to do something, he was going to hurt all of our classmates!"

The redhead slowly turned his head around with grit teeth, his eyes falling on the door where all the sound was coming from, only to see it was the nurses office.

Karma was praying for his sake and your sake that you just played some crazy prank on someone and that you didn't actually do something reckless. But knowing you, he was sure that wasn't the case.

"So you thought it would be better if he hurt you?" A voice spoke up, "You know Karma's going to kill you for this."

Crescent shaped moons began to form into the redhead’s palms as the very thing he worried about had been confirmed, someone hurt you. Quickly he began to storm down the hallway, ready to slide the door open before he heard your pathetic voice.

"Well I didn't plan on him crushing my spleen," You spoke out stubbornly with another cough, Karma's vision slowly starting to turn red with anger, "Besides, Karma skipped today so Karma will never find out about this. Got it?"

At this Karma froze as a sadistic smile quirked upon his lips, you sneaky little fox.

Putting on the most neutral face he could even amongst his slow boiling anger, he slid the door open causing everyone in the room to jump. His first sight was you, Maehara, and Kanzaki all laying down on the nurse tables. Sugino, Okuda, and Yada were also in the room which must have been the people talking.

"Oh Y/n dearest, am I interrupting something? Sorry I was late for class, just slept through my alarm!" Karma said in a gentle tone, sticking his tongue out to appear innocent.

The sight of your red headed boyfriend caused you to shriek as you forced yourself off of the bed with a grunt. Once you realized standing wasn't quite an option, you leaned on the side of the table, trying to appear as casual as possible. All that silenced your pained whimper was the harsh bite you held on your tongue while you forced a smile.

"K..Karma! I thought uh.. I thought you were skipping today!" You spoke cheekily, though it was clear to everyone how heavy you were breathing. Sugino looked at you nervously to make sure you didn't collapse on the floor as everyone else in the room felt the awkward tension.

Karma smirked down to you, though it wasn’t his signature cocky one, but rather a menacing one as he sauntered over to you.

"Oh you know, I wouldn't want to miss any lessons would I?" Karma spoke darkly, though he kept that same cheerful smile on his face, "Besides I couldn’t possibly make it through the day without a hug from my sweet angel.”

The sound of that caused your eyes to widen, quickly backing up the best you could as he neared you.

"Oh really? I don't know uh.. I'm not quite feeling a hug right now… I'm actually kind of hot!" You exclaimed, your classmates nervously watching as Karma neared you while you ran out of space to back into, "You don't wanna hug all my icky sweat d..do you?"

"Oh, I think I do." Karma growled, forcing his arms around you gently.

Sure enough as soon as he made even the gentlest of contact, you let out a cry as your knees buckled beneath you, Karma quickly caught you before lifting you up on the bed once more.

"Fuck Y/n, do you think I’m an idiot?” Karma growled, grabbing both of your fighting wrists that were trying to push his hands away with one hand, while lifting your shirt up with the other.

Though Karma knew you were injured, he never in a million years expected to see the wound that was displayed across your abdomen. A large maroon bruise stretched from either side of your stomach, the color getting darker at the center.

The redhead let go of your wrists so as not to hurt you any further, deciding to instead grip the edge of the metal bed, the sound of the cool material bending sending chills through your body.

"Who did this?" Karma growled, looking up at you through rageful hooded eyes.

Swallowing nervously you quickly placed both of your hands on either side of his shoulders, remembering how violent he got last time you got kidnapped, he couldn't have you killing your actual teacher, he would surely get expelled.

"Karma calm down, it's seriously not as bad as it looks I promise-"

The sound of his fist slamming down on the table beside you caused you to jump with a small yelp, his pupils narrowed to slits as he angrily glared at you.

"Damnit Y/n, stop trying to be the hero and tell me who did this! It looks like they crushed one of your fucking organs!"

"They made her cough up blood too." Yada spoke from over your shoulder, your head quickly whipping back to glare at her as her comment only fueled your boyfriend's raging mood.

Inhaling sharply, Karma tried to calm himself down so as not to yell at you before looking at you once more.

"Y/n, tell me who did this to you."

Biting at the corner of your lip you let out a defeated sigh and looked away sheepishly.

"We got a new P.E. teacher today, Mr. Takaoka, and he seemed really nice and cheerful... he even brought us treats!" You exclaimed trying to defend your reasoning, "B..But then when he showed us our new training schedules he took out all of our academic classes and was going to make us stay till nine pm everyday."

The sound of that made Karma raise his brow briefly, even to him that made no sense.

"So a few classmates expressed that to him, Maehara and Kanzaki..." You said softly, Karma just now noticing his two other injured classmates that only made him angrier, "But he lashed out and attacked them brutally… He was going to hurt every last one of them if I didn't step in, I swear I wasn't being reckless Karma I just…"

Karma's stern expression broke for a second when he heard you choke over words, you looked down before looking back up with glossy eyes once more.

"I couldn't just stand by again!"

The redhead flinched slightly at this, flashbacks to your conversation after you had gotten kidnapped flooding back to him. Of course you weren't being an idiot like him, you just wanted to protect your friends.

The redhead looked up to the ceiling in a poor attempt to hide the insane rage in his eyes, a ragged sigh escaping his lips before he looked down at you softly, his thumb gently rubbing against your thigh.

"So what you're saying is I need to put an old fuck in his place then, yeah?"

Your eyes widened at this as you watched him stroll out of the nurse's office, you quickly tried to follow after him but not before falling into Okuda's arms.

"Y/n you really shouldn't move..." Okuda said softly as you wrapped your arm around her shoulder.

Looking down at the gentle girl pleadingly, you glanced back at the door, "Okuda please, Karma can't fight that guy, he's going to get hurt!"

Okuda bit her lip before looking at her other classmates that shared worried looks.

"Let's all go out together so we can at least warn Mr. Karasuma and Korosensei."

-

Karma being "mad" was an understatement.

Admittedly he did snap at you which he certainly didn't mean to, but now he was angry for a different reason.

Like hell was some old fashioned pig of a man going to throw his classmates around. Especially after you still were recovering from the kidnapping scenario. He was getting so excited to see your combat skills were vastly improving, so to see you torn back down to square one royally pissed him off.

Slamming the door open he noticed a few eyes on him, but most of them were on the large teacher that was nestled in between Nagisa's legs. Karma’s eyes widened for a moment, impressed that Nagisa was able to take down such a beast.

Clearly the blue haired boy had gotten stronger, and he was sure Nagisa felt just as much rage as him after seeing you in such a state. Still though, he noticed the large teacher get up once Nagisa let go so he knew this wasn't quite over yet.

Soon after Karma began to head to the scene you and your other injured classmates slowly made your way outside, the sight of Karma getting closer to the man causing you to freeze.

Of course Karma could take care of himself, hell you wouldn't be surprised if he could take this man out with his bare fists alone, but it was clear Mr. Takaoka wasn't a fair fighter. Karma was skilled, but he couldn't be prepared if the crazed man pulled a gun on him.

You attempted to call out Karma's name but he pretended not to hear you as he walked to the scene.

Looking around you quickly shouted Mr. Karasuma's name, his concerned eyes moved over to you before looking over to an angry Karma as you pointed to him. Mr. Karasuma gave you a curt nod in understanding.

At this point all you could do was watch the scene play out and hope nobody else got hurt.

"You ungrateful punks." Mr. Takaoka growled, his fists clenched and his body flexed like he was a giant bear, "You think it's fun shaming your father figure, huh?

A pit sat in the bottom of your stomach. Even as beat up as Mr. Takaoka looked, he was still screaming his head off. The expression of pure rage he wore while looking at Nagisa made it look like he was going to rip his head off.

"Having the time of your life pretending you won? Hope it was worth it cause daddy's about to rip you apart! Mind body and soul-"

All of the students began to yell for Nagisa to move, Mr. Karasuma ready to run and stop this crazed man's punch, but Korosensei simply placed his tentacle on Mr. Karasuma's shoulder to hold him back.

Mr. Karasuma angrily looked back at Korosensei in confusion as to why he stopped him, but when a crack filled the air all eyes worriedly looked over to Nagisa.

Once the dust cleared up from the dirt beneath him, everyone gasped in surprise when they saw an unharmed Nagisa with his arm defensively up. If he didn't get hit then what was the cracking sound?

Sure enough the class' crazy redhead stood before Mr. Takaoka, his meaty fist caught by Karma's hand.

Mr. Takaoka let out a grunt of surprise, seeing that his quivering fist stood no chance against Karma’s simple block. To make matters worse, Karma lazily smirked up to the man and let out a sneer.

"Is that all you've got, old man?"

Mr. Takaoka began to shake in fury as he ripped his hand from Karma's grasp.

"Why you little-"

The gym teacher began to throw another fist with much more force, but Karma simply caught it once again and used the force to swing his arm around and pin it against his back so that he couldn't move.

"Nobody likes a sore loser~" Karma cooed tauntingly before his foot connected with Mr. Takaoka's spine, the kick pummeling the teacher into the ground as his face dragged against the dirt.

Everyone watched with wide eyes. No matter how many times they saw Karma in action, everyone seemed to forget his own raw strength beyond his insane ability.

You finally let out a sigh of relief you didn't realize you were holding in this entire time as you watched Karma walk beside the teacher.

Mr. Takaoka attempted to lift his head weakly from the ground, still mumbling out profanities but Karma simply grabbed the base of his skull and slammed his face into the dirt before moving his face real close to the teachers.

The P.E. teacher felt fear flow over his body, the same way he did when Nagisa made his cheap move on him in their previous fight. The red haired boy practically stared into his soul with those sinister golden hues that looked almost excited to have him in such a degrading position.

"Tell me Mr. Tough Guy," Karma spoke calmly before roughly yanking Mr. Takaoka's head to face you and your injured classmates, "Were you the one that harmed my classmates over there?"

The teacher let out a grunt through his teeth, words struggling to form to his lips out of a mix of pain and anger.

Karma simply laughed, sending chills to those around him as he yanked the man's head to face Karma once again, making sure to tug harshly on his hair making Mr. Takaoka scream out in pain.

"I said.." Karma growled with narrowed eyes, "Did you lay even a single finger on my angel over there?"

Mr. Takaoka narrowed his eyes back to Karma, a slight grin coming on his face when he realized where all the anger was bubbling up from within the redhead. Making eye contact with you for a second he let out a choked out laugh before nodding.

"I sure did, and I regret noth-"

The teacher couldn't get out another word before Karma slammed his head directly into the dirt.

"Then you can stay there like the filthy mut you are, teach!" Karma exclaimed with a smile, not even caring to hear what else the man had to say as he stood up and walked back to his silent classmates.

Even after all of that the teacher tried his very best, though wasn't very successful, to get back up to which didn't go unnoticed by Karma.

"Hmmm.." Karma said as if in thought before his eyes fell on Nagisa, "Hand me the knife Nagisa."

The blue haired boy knew better than to question Karma in this state so he handed the knife over, though as Mr. Karasuma yelled for him to stop he soon regretted it.

Karma simply ignored their cries and before they could reach him he threw the knife with such precision it landed directly in the center of Mr. Takaoka's palm causing him to cry out in pain.

"Just so you don't get any ideas of getting up champ." Karma spoke as he patted the man's cheek before standing up and brushing his hands off.

Everyone seemed to let out a sigh when realizing Karma was done. Even with the damage done, his classmates were expecting a much more violent scene to play out, so this was the best outcome that could have happened.

Not even a few moments later as Mr. Karasuma dealt with Mr. Takaoka, the principal himself came down to lead the teacher off the premises. The students were surprised to see the principal take their side for once, but he did once again remind them that he cared about academics above all else.

For now, it was a win for Class 3-E, and the class treated it as such.

Of course both Korosensei and Mr. Karasuma scolded Karma for his dangerous behavior, but given the bizarre situation he got off with a warning. Both knew how possessive he got with you and Korosensei especially knew it came out of a place of concern.

As Mr. Karasuma walked off to check on the other students, Karma moved to go meet with you and Nagisa, only for a tentacle to stop him.

"Y/n truly held her ground you know." Korosensei spoke, Karma freezing as he looked up to his teacher that was already looking at you.

"She kept up with him easily for a few minutes and was able to get him down on his hands and knees, your training with her is really paying off."

Karma glanced from Korosensei back to you as a proud smile flashed across his face. Even with your grotesque injury, you were joking around with your friends, a smile on your face even with the intense day you had.

"I'm really proud of her." Karma spoke simply, those words filling Korosensei's heart up with hope.

"With that said, though she has a lot left to learn from you, don't forget to also keep learning from her."

At this Karma looked up to Korosensei with a raised brow.

"What do you mean?"

"As much as you hate to admit it, Y/n has changed you for the better Karma. You may claim she's made you weaker, but she's truly made you stronger. You aren't as reckless and careless anymore. You truly care for your classmates and want not only the best for them, but the best for yourself."

Korosensei looked down to Karma, who for once all day was speechless.

"You two are going to build each other up into the best individuals you can be, so keep learning from each other young man."

Karma looked back at you with furrowed brows. How did this damned octopus always know exactly what Karma was thinking, but was too embarrassed to say out loud? Hearing it come from Korosensei really made the redhead feel better, but of course he would never admit that.

"Alright alright you big sap, thanks for the advice but it's nothing I didn't already know," Karma spoke as he rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, "Trust me Y/n is going to learn real well from me, she'll be my sweet little assassin by my side in no time."

Korosensei smiled at that until he noticed Karma pull out the knife from before as he flipped it around his fingers.

"And you'll be our first target teach~"

Korosensei began to go off in a frenzy, trying to grab the knife from Karma but to no avail as the boy walked off snickering.

-

For some reason unlike the first traumatic event you had with your classmates, this one didn't hit you as hard as usual. Sure you wished you didn’t have to endure that, the wound across your gut proving that point, but at the same time you felt so warm and safe being surrounded by your friends.

You've learned so much within your time here and it wasn't even the end of the first semester.

"Uh oh, red devil alert." Nagisa spoke nervously, your eyes falling on Karma as he sauntered over to you with an emotionless expression.

Sheepishly looking away you played with your fingers, refusing to look into those disapproving eyes as you awaited the sure lecture he would give you.

Once you heard him sit beside you, you raised a brow when no words came out of his mouth. Just before you could lift your head up, you felt gentle fingers grab your chin and tug your lips towards his own.

The kiss was unlike his usual ones, but not foreign to you. It wasn’t rough or rushed, but rather sweet and coordinated. The redhead kept your chin in his hold even after pulling away, his eyes glancing down to meet your nervous gaze.

"What you did today was crazy and not well thought out," Karma started, his brows furrowing together as he looked at you intensely before a small smile appeared on his lips, "But it was also very brave of you. I'm proud of you for sticking up for your classmates."

For a moment your brain shut off. The words "I'm proud of you" sounded foreign in general, let alone coming from your stubborn boyfriend himself.

Once you processed what was said you couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks as your lips rose into the prettiest smile Karma had ever seen in his life. Quickly you gather Karma into your arms, the boy taken aback before welcoming your warm embrace into his arms.

"Thank you Karma." You whispered into his chest, appreciating his new found trust and proudness in you.

This wasn't the same Karma you met when you got here, but you're so happy with how much you've both grown.

"She did totally kick ass Karma." Nagisa said with a grin, the redhead pulling away from you just so he could look at his friend, "She straight up spun behind that guy and before he could even process it, she cracked him right in the back of his neck, it was insane!"

"Oh did she now?"

Smiling wider, you looked over to Karma with a grin as you slowly got up on your knees, grunting a bit as you were trying to be careful not to strain your abdomen.

"I did! He was all like ‘woah where did she go’,” You spoke, mocking the large man’s voice as you knit your brows in an attempt to look scary, “And I was all like, ‘surprise!’ before I chopped down on his neck.”

Karma watched your movements with a toothy grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement and pride as you explained your tactics.

“He was totally knocked out for like… a few seconds at least.” You said with a pant, smiling down to the two boys that watched with matching smiles.

Karma couldn’t help but snort at your final pose, his arms grabbing the back of your thighs and gently lifting you into his lap, so as to not agitate your wound any further..

"Of course my sweet angel kicked his ass, she learned from the best after all~" Karma said with a cocky grin, Nagisa giving an unimpressed brow raise as you stuck out your tongue to him.

You all joked around until the class seemed to finally calm down, all of you eating the sweet treats Mr. Takaoka brought before he went psycho on you all.

It wasn't until you hummed against Karma's chest that he felt a sense of deja vu. 

There you were, nestled between his crossed legs, your body cuddled up against his warm embrace as you nibbled on the flakey pastry in your hand.

Looking practically upside down backwards to Karma you stared into his beautiful golden eyes before offering a sweet smile, your lips quite literally covered in white powder from your pastry.

"I love you Karma." You whispered softly, giggling when Karma placed a quick kiss on your lips, only for his tongue to swipe those plush lips of yours to get the remaining powder from them.

Sure you weren't overlooking the large ocean on a dramatically beautiful cliff, and there were a few additions to the picture that Karma could've gone without. But he wouldn't have had it any other way.

"I love you too Y/n."

next chapter

[x-gabrielle-x]

Interlinked

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x Reader.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, major character death, blood, war.

Summary: Mattheo Riddle was hated by most, yet you saw more in him than what most could.

Mattheo Riddle knew that he wasn't the most approachable person out there, especially when more than half of the school referred to him as his father's son.

Besides his small group of close friends, anybody else was just another thorn in his side. He had come to learn that despite keeping his distance and reserved personality, he was still seen to be just like his father.

So of course, it was a shock to everybody when you had chosen to sit beside him in potions class away from your usual group of friends.

You hadn't said anything to him, merely sparing him a quick glance and small smile before you were placing your things down quietly onto the desk. He could see your friends in the corner of his eye gawking at you from across the room and silently waving you back over, one of them even going as far to call out to you, yet you paid them no mind and picked up your quill, scribbling down the notes written on the board before the professor continued on with the lesson.

He felt his gaze linger on you longer than he would've liked to admit, brows furrowed before he chose to let the silence thicken.

Mattheo knew then and there that this wouldn't be the last interaction he'd have with you.

It went on like this for a few more days. You coming into class and sitting directly beside him, showing him your bright smile that he desperately wished to hate despite the small warmth it gave him. At this point it became regular routine, and if you ever happened to be late for class Mattheo would ensure that your seat was kept empty.

It was a silent agreement between the two of you.

So once again when Mattheo caught himself staring at your bored expression in class, your head propped up onto the palm of your hand, he decided that for the first time it was time to break the silence.

"Not taking any notes today?" He couldn't help to hide the growing grin on his face when your head nearly snapped toward him, eyes wide as if you were checking that he was in fact talking to you.

You leant back further into your seat, shrugging as you turned to fully acknowledge him whilst also being discreet from the Professor as to not get caught.

"I'm just not really in the mood for it, I guess," you shrugged, giving him a small smile. "It's pretty basic stuff, anyways," you added.

He grinned once again, although this time he put no effort into hiding it. "Of course, one of the best students in class calls it 'basic.'"

He didn’t fail to notice the way your eyes lingered on his smile. He never smiled, really. Maybe the occasional half lipped smile to his few friends he had, but to you, it felt natural. Meaningful.

"It could be basic to you too, if you took notes and gave the lesson your full attention," you teased him, nodding to the board.

"Unfortunately, my attention is elsewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, and despite your attempt at hiding it, Mattheo noticed the obvious blush dusting your cheeks when he flashed you one last smile.

In truth, Mattheo wasn't awful at potions class at all. In fact, he found it to be one of his best subjects. He would never admit that to you, though. Not if it meant that you could continue to tease him about it.

The both of you quickly went silent when Professor Snape turned your way, eyeing mainly Mattheo for a second before he continued to pester poor Neville about what chapter to read from.

Small conversations would be thrown back and forth between the two of you, and Mattheo being himself, of course threw in many flirtatious comments, addicted to the way you'd attempt to change topic and hide the nervousness from him.

It didn't take long for him to realize he was craving for your attention every chance he could get. He found himself looking for you in the corridors and in the main hall when he happened to be walking with his friends, and it didn't fail to go unnoticed by them when his usual bored demeanor would instantly change when talking to you.

You would catch his attention with a bright smile and wave, before your friends were quickly pushing you away to giggle about the situation.

After practically begging you to help him study for the upcoming potions test, despite him not needing the help, he was insistent on getting to spend more time with you.

When you were both sat in the library with the few books you had brought over, Mattheo found himself watching as you concentrated hard on what you were explaining to him, with your brows furrowed and your eyes darting along each printed word on the page. Only it didn't last long when you suddenly closed the book and looked at him expectantly.

"You could at least pretend to be a little more interested, Riddle," you had teased when you discovered he hadn't been listening to you, earning a small chuckle from the boy sat across from you.

"Would it be a surprise to you that something else had taken my interest?" was all he said, watching you closely for a reaction. He caught the slight blush dusting your cheeks.

"You're funny, Riddle." You quickly turned away from him and picked up your book, opening to a random page to save you from the embarrassment of his words. You knew that he had you wrapped around his finger, and he loved it.

Christmas holidays had come, and of course the two of you were sad to go. The many bickering conversations and your smile would have to wait until next year.

"I'll send owls whenever I can, I better get some back, Riddle," you had said, throwing one of your jumpers into your bag as Mattheo sat watching from the common room couch.

He rolled his eyes at the comment, as if it were impossible to do so. "You'll be missing me that much, Princess?"

He caught you halting your movement, and you looked at him.

"Would it be a boost to your ego if I admitted I would miss you?"

He pretended to ponder, but he couldn't hide the grin on his face. "Not entirely sure, I guess were going to find out."

You rolled your eyes once more and zipped up your bag. "Then if it makes you feel better, I will miss you, Mattheo."

Nothing felt it had sunk in until you were stood on the platform to the train, Mattheo at your side and bags in hand. You would both be going to your homes, and the several months of friendship the two of you had built together would not make it easy for the next few to come.

Your father had insisted to pick you up himself, claiming he couldn't wait long enough for the train to arrive. Unfortunately, this would mean Mattheo would go by train alone.

So, when the both of you were saying your final goodbyes, of course it had surprised him to feel your lips press against the corner of his mouth.

You patted his cheek twice, to which he just silently gawked at you.

"See you soon, Theo," you smiled before turning away to find your father who was waiting somewhere nearby.

He watched you walk off, and without another thought he was turning on his heel and stepping on to the train.

Then he was gone.

Mattheo never sent a letter, and the months seemed to drag on the longer you waited. Every day you would run outside of your family home to check the mail, expecting, hoping, to see that he finally sent you a message. You couldn't deny the embarrassment every time you opened the mailbox to see it empty. Your hope was fading, but still, there was the smallest tinge of hope left deep in you.

You thought that maybe you were overthinking things too much. He did say he had plans for the holidays, after all. Your owl would wait by the window ready for you to clip another letter to her neck once again and fly off the moment you opened the window. No matter how many times you would send a letter, deep down you knew you wouldn't receive one back.

When school was finally about to start up again the coming week, you were beyond excited to see Mattheo again, despite the fact of his lack of letters. You were sure there was a reasonable explanation!

As he sat in one of the carriages in the train, his eyes zoned out of the window and watching the fog clouding the terrain, his memories flooded back in and for a moment he swore he felt a sharp sting on his forearm. Glancing down at the Dark Mark printed pure black, he remembers the exact moment his father had pressed the tip of his wand to his flesh and the searing pain that followed.

He felt as if the holidays had been the slowest they'd ever been. Being stuck in the same building as the Dark Lord feels like that, he concluded.

He was drawn away from his thoughts when he heard the carriage door slide open, and he wasn't surprised to see your face peeking in through the door with your usual smile, only it was brighter than he'd ever seen it.

Despite him not sending you letters; you were beyond happy to see him again.

Ignoring your excitement, you met his gaze and gestured to the seat across from him. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Truthfully, he wished for some alone time to dwell on his thoughts. He didn't need you or anybody else trying to strike up conversation with him, especially after he had been mostly ignoring your letters and leaving them stranded in piles upon his desk. The slight annoyance began to bubble in his chest, yet he gave a curt nod and continued to stare out the window.

You seemed to have caught onto his behavior, the awkwardness settling in once you closed the door behind you and watched in silence.

Your mind was swarming with questions you desperately wished to ask him - What did he do during the holidays? Why was he acting like this? Did he miss you?

You inhaled a breath before asking the question you had been craving to ask the most.

"You never sent me any letters over the holidays?" You regretted mentioning it the moment the words slipped your lips, and you bit the inside of your cheek when you heard a deep inhale come from Mattheo.

"Things get busy," was all he said, and the pang in your chest that followed caused for you to try think of anything else. He refused to look at you, and that only made the pang worsen.

"Oh, that's alright," you nodded, teeth pressing deeper into the skin of your bottom lip. "What did you do over your holidays?"

Mattheo shrugged, and you wished that he could just meet your eye the longer he stared blankly out the window.

"Nothing of much importance."

His bluntness to you confused you. Never had Mattheo attempted to be so short and bored with you, even when you were both at the awkward stage of just becoming friends. You took it as a sign to sit in silence the rest of the train ride back to Hogwarts, feigning it'll be back to normal once you're both settled into the regular routine again.

The longer the days passed at Hogwarts, the more Mattheo found himself hating your presence. You were always there - always following him like a lost puppy or trying to strike up conversation. He didn't want you here. Not at the moment. He couldn't.

You didn't fail to realize this either, firstly it being small things like the previous conversation on the train a few weeks ago. But then you found that Mattheo was physically avoiding you, changing seats to be on the opposite side of the class, leaving the dining hall whenever you attempted to sit with the rest of your friends. He never saved your seats anymore; even going as far as to make sure he was sat between other classmates to avoid you being near him.

You did miss him, but you also weren't one to push boundaries. Especially when it came to somebody you cared about as much as him.

You had tried to give him space, tried to give him time to come to you, but your own emotions were clouding, and you just wanted your old Mattheo. You had made sure to find Mattheo when he was alone, gently tugging on his arm and pleading for him to talk to you.

"Can't you just fuck off already? I don't need you here. You're a constant pain, how don't you see that?! I thought you would have gotten the hint ages ago!" He'd practically screamed in your face, and you had never felt more mortified than you did right now.

"Thats not what I'm trying to do at all, Theo-"

"You need to leave me the fuck alone, Y/N!"

He hated you. He hated you for making him feel this way. It was your fault. for making him care about anything in the first place, and it was your fault that he despised you for it. And most of all, he hated you for making him love you.

He could never forget the look on your face when he stood beside his father at the war, the tears seeming as if they were rivers along your dirty cheeks, cuts littering your body. Despite all that, in your pain seeing him, he still wondered how you had managed to stay beautiful even in these circumstances. Even with the blood from your wounds, you seemed like the brightest person here.

He so desperately wished to reach out a brush away the bloodied strands of hair away from your face, to apologies for everything. He couldn't stand the way your heartbroken gaze was practically burning into his soul.

Then the flash of green and a heavy thud echoed.

He hadn't even registered the war around him as he darted forward, tripping over his own legs as he dropped to his knees and cradled your body. He couldn't even hear his own wails and sobs over the screaming of his classmates.

He wished he hadn't looked down to the sight of you in his arms, because as soon as he did, he felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. Your body was limp against him, your head lulled back to which he carefully readjusted his body to keep his arm supporting your neck. He could barely see with the tears cascading down his face and blurring his vision - some even dropping down onto your cheek and rolling off the slopes of your jaw. He quickly whipped it off with his thumb.

This couldn't be how you last remembered him, could it? He was pressing his forehead to your cold one the longer the seconds passed.

"You’re not leaving me, Princess, ok?" he was mumbling to you in your ear despite his sobbing. Deep down he knew you were gone, but the lingering hope that you'd flutter your eyes open and smile back up at him was haunting to him. He couldn't resist but to shake your shoulders in hopes that it would be true. "You need to get up now! It's dangerous," he cried longer, and in that moment, he couldn't care less what happened to him beyond that point, because the one thing he truly cared about was now gone.

He would never hear your voice again, your lips pressed against his, or your smile that he secretly wished to see every day. He wished that he could feel your hands running along his hair comfortingly as you whispered sweet nothing to him.

He would never be able to tell you that he did, in fact, read every single one of your letters. That he wished to write back. That he wished to see you every second of the day.

Your last memory of him would instead be of how he betrayed you. Left you, and fought against you in the war. Scared and broken because of him.

It was truly all gone, and he had never hated himself more in that moment.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

[silverskye13]

Angst prompt submitted by @theunderscorwolph

[Part 2 of 2]

[Part 1 Found Here]

[Trigger Warnings for this part: Swearing, blood and gore, religious self-harm, general angst, threats of dismemberment, torture. Read with caution, it gets dark.]

"He's been taken by the Thieves' Guild, for infringing on our turf," the thug had said. "He always hit the main square -- prime real estate -- and we thought we'd scared him off. But then he popped up last week spouting shit about a Gargoyle, and threw a bunch of our guild members off a roof. He needed to be taught a lesson. Figured we would pick up a friend of his for insurance, something to make the threat stick. Nothing personal against you -- honest! He's at the Guild Hall, just past the Watcher's Den."

Helsknight and Tango jogged down the hels streets, silent as grim death. Helsknight, for his part, was trying to keep his thoughts as still as possible. If he could just manage to keep from thinking about the events that had already passed today, maybe he could stop feeling so gods-awful about them. Control of that sort kept slipping through his fingers though, his thoughts like writhing, circling eels that kept breaking free to coil around the feeling of his sword, and the begging voice, and the wrist that looked for all the world far too breakable. Helsknight felt both exhausted and innervated, like at any moment, he might shudder apart. He also, predictably, really, really wanted to punch something. Flight had never really been an option for him. When he was scared, or stressed, or really just mildly out of his comfort zone, his one and only instinct was to fight.

[Good then, that where he was going, a fight was surely about to happen.]

Tango kept pace with him surprisingly well. Helsknight was starting to learn the Hermit was a bit more resourceful than he'd given him credit for. Pragmatic. He didn't know where he was going, but every few streets he would ask straightforward questions about what direction, and what they were looking for, and he noticed on his own that he could see Evil X’s tower from anywhere in the city. 

“Landmark build,” he’d called it, when they rounded into the Watcher’s Den, and it still loomed like a shadowy colossus in the distant haze. He paused long enough to shade his eyes and let out an impressed whistle. “BDubs would build something like that.” Then, when he realized Helsknight was waiting for him to follow. “So you and Evil X aren't on speaking terms, huh?”

“He's evil,” Helsknight said by way of explanation. “I'm not.”

“Yeah… right.” Tango looked him up and down, and Helsknight found himself stifling the urge to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “You're really not evil, huh?”

Helsknight felt a hot flicker of tired indignation. Tango sounded so… surprised. Like he was realizing something for the first time. Helsknight thought for a moment about defending himself. Of course I'm not. But he was very aware all Tango knew of him was what Wels had probably told him, and he was very aware the things he and Wels did to each other when they crossed swords were unkind, and sometimes cruel, and not the sorts of things good people did.

“A matter of perspective,” Helsknight growled, and turned to continue through Watcher’s Den.

“I don’t think it’s just perspective,” Tango said reasonably, walking briskly to keep up with his long strides. “I mean! Most evil dudes don't have fits about torture, for one thing. Like, I know everyone draws lines somewhere, but that doesn’t feel like it’s just a noble choice, you know?”

Helsknight sighed and rolled his eyes up towards the sky, beseeching patience from whatever god or saint would deign to listen.

“And also, you gave me your cloak thing.” Tango continued, flourishing the fabric demonstratively.

“Don’t get attached,” Helsknight snorted. “I want that back.”

“Right right, whatever.” Tango waved a hand dismissively. “But you gave it to me because it would keep me safe. That’s also, objectively, not very evil.”

“How uncharacteristic of me.”

“And you clearly care about Tanguish,” Tango continued, ignoring Helsknight’s sarcasm. Helsknight raised an eyebrow at him, trying to figure out where all of this was going. “I mean, the minute I said he was gone, you wanted to look for him. And yeah, you were kinda mean about it, but you let me come along. And when those thugs attacked you, you didn’t yell at me to come help you -- which, I mean, obviously I was going to. But you didn’t expect me to put myself in danger. You went into that fight thinking you were going to be protecting me from something.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I think it didn’t occur to you to make me take some of the heat.”

“A tactical error.”

“What changed?”

Helsknight sighed again.

“I mean, everyone’s heard you and Wels’s rap battle thing.” Tango said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It was a little dorky -- but that’s Hermitcraft. We don’t do real serious wars or anything. But. The threats sounded. Genuine? Destroying everything someone loves. Being someone’s inner darkness. That’s evil.” Tango looked up at him. “Right?”

“Tangotek.” 

“Knight of the Hels variety.”

“Don’t ask questions that have messy answers.” Helsknight rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m a redstoner.” Tango’s eyes rested briefly on his sword, before he seemed to decide Helsknight wasn’t threatening him with it, and he met Helsknight’s gaze instead. “Every question I ask has a messy answer.”

Helsknight almost ended the conversation there. He wanted to. He could not rightly describe why, but he didn't like that a Hermit might consider him a good person. It made him squeamish to be looked at and judged on the truths of himself, rather than the biases and fabrications of his other half. At least then, if he were found wanting, or lacking, or cruel, it was because of Wels. 

“Has it occurred to you yet,” Helsknight said, “that I can be every bit the villain Wels says I am, and still manage to care deeply for someone?”

“Well yeah, obviously.” Tango answered simply. His voice was so light and conversational, it was hard to tell he was being earnest. But he was. He looked Helsknight in the eye, and didn't flinch. “I just also think there's more to it than that.”

Helsknight sighed. He decided to cut off… whatever this bungled heart-to-heart was, now, before it could escalate into territory where Helsknight felt too raw and vulnerable. He told himself it was knightly: it did not do to arm your enemies against yourself.

“What you think doesn't matter to me,” Helsknight said decisively, glowering down at Tango. “What Wels thinks, or any of you Hermits think, doesn't matter to me. What matters to me is what I think about myself.” Helsknight sighed, and allowed himself a little more straight honesty. “And I care what Tanguish thinks of me as well.”

Tango took all this in, turning it over with ponderous weight, like he were considering a tricky line of redstone coding.

“And what do you think about everything you've done today to rescue Tanguish?”

“I think if I manage to rescue him, and he's in one piece, and I haven't come too late, then I will still be able to sleep tonight.” Helsknight grimaced. “Though I may go to confession when he's not looking.”

“You go to confession?”

“Knights and religion,” Helsknight shrugged.

Tango nodded, snapped his fingers like he'd come to a conclusion, and said smugly, “Antihero.”

“Pardon?”

“You should read comics, Killer,” Tango smiled. “They're up your alley. Might even give you some inspiration for your outfit.”

Helsknight glanced down at his armor, and when he realized Tango kept walking without him, felt foolish as he lengthened his stride to catch up. 

-------- -

The Thief Guild was a small basalt compound on the outskirts of Watcher’s Den, one reclaimed set of structures probably stolen from the Watcher itself -- fitting for a pack of thieves. It seemed less like a proper building, and more like a honeycomb burrow someone dug into a naturally formed basalt cathedral. Only the fact that it was surrounded by other dilapidated buildings gave any indication it wasn't a stolen part of the landscape. 

They didn't approach by the main road, opting instead to spider through the alleys surrounding the compound. Helsknight kept an eye on their surroundings, making sure they weren't spotted or followed, while Tango navigated them closer to their quarry. Once he knew where they were going, he had a pretty good head for directions -- Helsknight chalked it up to all the times the Hermit had explored new generation, or gotten lost in his own strip mines. Pathfinding was a skill honed just like any other.

At last their alley intersected with the entrance to the compound. Peeking around the corner, they got a glimpse of locked gates and a barren stone courtyard, leading to purple-grey stairs. There was a landing, flanked by a pair of guards, and a closed door. From this distance, Helsknight only knew they had bows because he caught the flicker of light off the tip of a flint arrowhead. 

“So, what's the plan?” Tango whispered, eyeing Helsknight as he drew his sword. “And if your answer is ‘storm the castle like an idiot', guess again.”

“I would have stopped at ‘storm the castle’.”

“You're kidding.”

“I'm a knight.” Helsknight hissed, scowling. “I don't do sneak-thieving. Even if I wanted to try stealth, I think the clattering armor will give it away.”

“So you've decided your only other option is running death-or-glory for the front gate?” Tango asked, his voice threatening to tilt out of its already over-loud whisper. “They'll turn you into a pin cushion before you run five steps!”

“I have netherite gear,” Helsknight muttered testily.

“On your arms and legs, congratulations! I'm sure that's what they'll be aiming for, and not your big head.”

“You have any better ideas?!” 

Tango opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. He tapped a finger to his lips like he was shushing himself, maybe forcing himself to think before he spoke again. “Let me see what I've got.”

Tango rifled through his pockets, found what looked to be a small black die, and tossed it to the ground. The moment it landed, it hissed into the shape of an ender chest, and with a kick from his boot, it flipped open. Tango stood quietly like that for a few minutes, hands on his sides, muttering under his breath as he parsed through the indecipherable contents. Eventually he kicked it closed.

“I've got an idea,” Tango whispered. “I'm going to make a distraction.”

Helsknight raised an eyebrow at him. “How mysterious.”

“You'll know it when you see it,” Tango chuckled. “Cover your ears.”

He started off down the alley. Helsknight called after him in a loud whisper. 

“Don't kill anyone.”

Tango stopped and cast a skeptical look back at him. “Why not?”

“We don't know where their spawns are set,” Helsknight said, squashing down a feeling like guilt that was clambering to life in his stomach. “If I have to fight through an army today, I'd rather only do it once.”

Tango swallowed uncomfortably. His bow was still slung over his shoulder, and he reached up to it now, fingers plucking at the string. “Any uh… any tips?”

Helsknight searched through bitter memories of Colosseum fights for the things he knew he couldn't fight through. Those times when he, and the people he fought against, stopped seeing each other as people and instead as problems in need of solving.

“All the limbs and joints.” Helsknight gestured to his elbows and knees. “Stay away from the thighs, the neck, the body.” He hesitated, then grimaced, the ghost of a memory tangling in his guts. “If you're desperate, and someone won't stop coming at you, you can hit them here, but save that as a last resort.” Helsknight drew a circle low on his abdomen, where organs got twisted and complicated. “It hurts like all hels, and kills slowly.”

Tango grimaced and went a little pale, the flames in his hair and tail taking on a greenish cast. It seemed to be sinking in, belatedly, just how gruesome this whole business might end up being.

“You don't have to go in with me,” Helsknight offered, forcing some steel into his voice, self-assuredness he didn't really feel. “Make your distraction, come back here, and wait for me and Tanguish to come out again.”

Tango teetered on the edge of agreeing to that. Helsknight could see it in the way his body leaned, someone who wanted to run away, to make something not his problem. Helsknight couldn't blame him for that. He didn't want it to be his problem either. There was a world of difference between fighting in an arena, and making war on someone, no matter how justified that war was. But Tango, as Helsknight was repeatedly being reminded, had resolve that was hard as obsidian, and cut like diamond. The Hermit swallowed, took a bracing breath, and shook his head.

“I've come this far, right Killer?” He said, and darted away down the alley. 

Helsknight waited. He wondered, briefly, if it had been wise to let Tango go off on his own. He waited longer. He rubbed the side of his face tiredly, trying to stave off the fatigue that came from boredom and a trying day, and, when his mind threatened to wander, he found himself itching the cut on his wrist. It was hard to scratch with his gauntlets blunting his nails, which was probably for the best. 

Helsknight's gauntlets were made in pieces. It made them easier to clean, which, after many months of fighting in the Colosseum, was something he'd come to appreciate. The main part of it was a thick leather glove, with netherite plate buckled and riveted over top. There were versions of the gauntlets where the metal plates used fully encircled the wrist, and extended down each individual finger for maximum protection, but he found these also hindered his range of movement somewhat, and given how often he wore armor out and about in hels, his were a bit simpler. The metal plating stopped at his knuckles, and only covered the top of his hands and forearm, cinching underneath with tight buckles that he kept adjusting. It was easier to take on and off, easier to pull apart to clean -- and it meant his dagger had only had to shear through leather before finding the skin beneath.

Helsknight wondered idly as he slipped a finger beneath the cut leather, if he had armored himself better, if he would have been able to hurt himself in his panic. Would he, upon glancing his dagger off the hardened plate, simply dropped the knife and prayed? Or, he wondered with macabre humor, would he have found somewhere more inconvenient to stab? He wore a chain shirt, but it was a simple thing to lift that away and access his thighs, where large veins could bleed someone dry in the seconds it took for pain to travel. He didn't think he had it in himself to kill himself over guilt. He feared dying too much. The deep unknown of whether the universe would devour him in the moments before respawn was a lurking terror that still strangled him on dark nights, and during particularly bloody fights.

[Then again, Helsknight thought grimly, he hadn't thought he was capable of torture, and yet, desperation had driven his hand to that particular blade with startling speed, even if circumstance had spared him the swing.]

Tango’s ‘distraction’ sent him hurdling out of his poisonous thoughts like a man thrown from a second story window. There was a loud explosion, something near-deafening, that shook the air and the ground, and sent sheets of dust cascading around Helsknight. The ground beneath his feet cracked ominously, and the wall at his back groaned and resettled itself, bowing slightly in the middle as something integral in the ground destabilized. Two smaller explosions kicked the air overhead, billowing smoke and the high, tinny whine of spent fireworks. Helsknight's world narrowed to haze, and the pervasive smell of gunpowder. 

Tango, a flickering spark that seemed to leap at him from the gloom, materialized at his side. His hands were soot-stained, his grin wide and manic. He reeked of sulfer and salt peter, and the chemical high of ignition. 

“Consider them suitably distracted!” Tango keened, his words mangled by giggles. “Time to kick some butts!”

“Was that TNT?!” Helsknight coughed, trying to pull the collar of his tunic over his mouth and nose. The smoke stung his eyes and put a bitter taste in his mouth, and he kept blinking to clear away tears.

“No good redstoner ever leaves home without it!” Tango laughed, shrugging his bow off his shoulders. “After you Killer, before the smoke blows away.”

Helsknight nodded, gathering up his determination. He drew his sword and charged for the gate. The explosion had knocked askew one of the support pillars holding it up, and Helsknight found it relatively easy to kick it open. The lock held, but the cracked stone gave up the hinges on one side, and Helsknight vaulted over the twisting metal as it fell. Behind him, Tango cackled, impressed. The smoke billowing through the courtyard sheltered them, so that the remaining guard by the door only knew Helsknight was there when the knight was slamming the flat of his blade against the side of his head. He crumpled to the ground, and Helsknight shouldered his way through the front door which was, thankfully, unlocked.

Inside the compound, the corridors were dark and close, lit intermittently by shroomlights in the ceiling, casting everything in a dim orange glow. Helsknight paused, tilting his head to listen. Ahead of him, the building split into three hallways, one continuing into some kind of foyer, while the other two branched into long tunnels. There were shouts down one hall, mostly names and demands about what had happened and who was hurt. The other was relatively quiet, emptied perhaps, after the ruckus. The foyer started empty, but as Helsknight watched, a pair of thieves passed into it, looking shaken. 

“Get the one on the left,” Helsknight told Tango, and charged in while the Hermit sputtered, and drew an arrow to his bow. Helsknight was on the pair of thieves in a handful of long strides, his gauntleted fist connecting with one’s sternum with the full force of his run behind it. He felt the satisfying huff of air bucking out of their lungs as he winded them, and as they crumpled to floor wheezing, he turned to the second. He caught their drawn dagger on his gauntlet, but before he could raise his sword to them, Tango’s arrow took them in the leg, and they fell. 

Helsknight, running on adrenaline and the need for swift action, turned to slam his boot down on the arm of the one he'd winded. He wrinkled his nose at the sound and feel of bone breaking. He took a second to gulp down his revulsion, and then demanded, “Tanguish, the  Gargoyle thief. Where is he?”

They pointed him towards a nearby open door. Helsknight narrowed his eyes towards the corridor, not entirely sure if he should trust the direction given. He swallowed, and once again dredged up his dread persona from the Colosseum, the remorseless villain that didn't trust, and didn't relent. He ground the heel of his boot down, eliciting a long shriek of pain.

“Perhaps I should drag you with me,” Helsknight said in the cool, quiet voice he used for villain speeches and threatening monologues, “so, if I find out you've lied, I can break your other arm as well?”

“N-n-n-not lying!” They gasped, eyes wide and terrified. “That hall. Down the stairs. Past the big doors. Guild boss is down there with him.”

Their friend, who was now staring down the point of Tango’s next arrow, nodded fast agreement. “You can't miss it!”

Helsknight nodded. He was about to move, when a clattering sounded from the entrance to the foyer. He turned to watch three more thieves come into the room from where he and Tango had entered. One of them he recognized as a street thug who had ambushed him. That one took a frightened step back, while the other two drew swords and knives.

[Not good odds.]

Helsknight opened his mouth and said something. He wasn't really paying attention to words, only pulled a suitably terrifying line at random from a list of memorized Colosseum threats, and focused on the tone of his voice and the lines of his body. The thug he'd met before turned abruptly and ran. The other two took hesitant steps backwards, and lowered weapons. Beneath him, the thief with the broken arm whined. Tango gulped audibly, and cast him a wary glance. Reassured he wouldn't be followed, Helsknight turned and made for the hallway he'd been pointed down. Tango backed after him, keeping his bow trained on the thieves for a few seconds longer before coming to his side.

“Maybe… I take it back,” Tango laughed nervously. “There might be a little evil in there.”

Helsknight raised an eyebrow at him. “That bad?”

“I mean yeah that was kinda threatening!”

“Wasn't paying attention,” Helsknight grunted. “Glad it worked.”

Tango blinked at him, incredulous. “What do you mean you weren't paying attention?!”

“I kind of just… say things sometimes.” Helsknight admitted, shrugging. “Something that came from my relationship with Wels, I think. Sometimes I focus on what I want, and don't pay attention to the words really, and it'll stick. Comes in handy when I'm improvising villain lines in the Colosseum, though I've had some people ask me not to do it, since it gets a little personal. Red especially hates it.”

Tango opened and closed his mouth a few times in a good impersonation of a startled fish.

“What'd I say?”

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Tango gave a bark of baffled laughter. “Just, you know, something about taking the marrow from their bones before the mercy of respawn. Reasonable threat.”

“Oh. Gross.” Helsknight snorted and rolled his eyes, “Sounds too dramatic to work.”

“It helps that you're like, twice everyone’s size and obviously know your way around a sword.”

“That helps,” Helsknight grunted, refocusing on the hallway ahead as doors began opening up along its sides. 

Startled people, thugs and thieves and whoever else happened to have business in the Guild, were peering out to gauge the commotion. Some of them took one look at an armed and armored knight, flanked by an archer, and promptly scrambled to close and bolt their doors again. Several didn't. Helsknight charged to meet them, taking advantage of the closeness of the hallway, and the forced bottleneck it made. Three, four people at a time he would struggle to fight off, if he could fight them off at all. One or two, though, he thought he could manage, if he was quick enough.

Helsknight ducked a knife, parried a hand axe, and punched the nearest throat he could reach. His focus narrowed to his hands, his feet, and the flickering of metal in the dim light. Twice he felt a blade clatter off his armor, the thick grieves protecting his forearms. Once, someone managed a lucky stab at his ribs, and while his chainmail caught the blade, he felt something bruise, and lost half a breath. Someone -- the axe wielder -- slammed their blade hard into his sword and he dropped it. This was not ideal, but Helsknight was a man who preferred a sword in his hand. He was far from helpless without one. He drew his dagger, buried it in the axe-wielder's shoulder, then ripped their axe from their now limp hand and promptly chopped it into someone else’s knee. While he was ducked low, Tango’s arrow caught someone else in the shoulder, and then the forearm, and they fell howling.

By the time Helsknight had hacked and slashed his way down the hall, his arms were bloodied up to the elbow. His breath came in gasps that rattled in his sore ribs in growls. There was a fiery line of pain on one thigh that threatened to make him limp, and a bone-aching bruise on his left arm where someone smashed him with what he thought was a chair leg. Fatigue was starting to worm its way into his muscles, the repeated shocks to his joints made him grit his teeth through increasing aches. His stomach churned, adding to the chorus of discomforts. He was not used to so much blood, and the smell was cloying; so physical it had a taste. 

Blood was one of the many things respawn scrubbed away, the universe setting harms to rights. In leaving so many people alive in his wake, all that wounding had nowhere to go, so it clung to him like groping hands, and ran in rivulets down his armor. Helsknight felt mad, a rabid animal barely in control of his senses. His sword, returned to his hand as he'd cleared the hall, was both slick and sticky all at once. It all felt deeply, deeply wrong.

[Confession, as soon as the next one wa held. Or he might just preemptively bleed himself dry begging for forgiveness.]

Helsknight's Saint, it had to be said, was not a squeamish divinity. They were the Saint of Blood and Steel. Most of their prayers were made not with words, but with the opening of veins. But the Saint, for what Helsknight thought were very good, very obvious reasons, didn't condone wanton violence and cruelty. Helsknight’s tenets were so tied up in reasons why not to raise his blade, sometimes he wondered if he shouldn't keep it peace-knotted like the paladins did.

[The Saint, he thought, would not like what he was doing now. He thought he fought with good reason. He thought he wasn't being unnecessarily cruel. But he thought many people probably thought that way, when justifying atrocities to gods.]

[He wondered, distantly, as he reached the stairs down, if Tango thought he was a villain yet.]

Regardless of what Tango thought of him, if he thought anything at all, the Hermit was at his back. His nervous laughter had stopped about halfway down the hall, giving way to exhausted concentration. They were back to back, Tango keeping an arrow trained behind them in case someone tried ambushing them, and from their closeness Helsknight could feel him shaking. He didn't know if Tango shook from horror or fatigue, but he could hear the Hermit’s breath quick and harsh, and his fire had taken on a permanent greenish cast that greyed the red-orange hues emanated from the overhead shroomlights.

They descended the stairs together in breathy silence. Tango fired a warning shot behind them, and whispered something so soft and hoarse, Helsknight couldn't hear it over the sound of his own rough breathing. He deciphered the meaning well enough though, between the tone of voice and the arrow: People were coming behind them. 

Helsknight moved quicker, taking the stairs two at a time, until he emerged into anothers at foyer of some sort. There was a pair of double doors -- like the thief had described -- at the end of the room, and past that, another set of doors that he watched close and lock. Helsknight stormed through the abandoned room, past overturned chairs and other signs of haste. When they passed the open doors, Tango stopped.

“I'll make sure no one can follow us,” Tango said, closing them and running for some of the nearby furniture. “You think you can get those open, Killer?”

Helsknight put on a grim smile. “No force in hels can keep me out of that room.”

“Villain vibes!” Tango called to him, only halfway joking.

Helsknight strode up to the closed doors and, reasonably, he thought, tried the handle first. It was locked. Helsknight rolled his shoulders and sighed.

It took three kicks to break open the doors. The first broke the lock. The second bent the latch, and sent a wide crack spiraling up the wood. The third had them thrown open so hard, they banged off the walls and shuddered, and one tilted askew off a hinge. 

Helsknight’s eyes locked on someone who looked vaguely like a leader. At the very least, they wore clothing that looked more official, and better kept. Tanguish was at their feet, slumped over onto the ground. Helsknight spared Tanguish enough of a glance to see no mortal wounds, before striding across the room, sword held out wide, the bloody tip ringing as it grazed across the ground. He didn't know what he planned to do exactly. Beating the Guild Leader senseless was probably on the list somewhere, but for now he would settle on looking terrifying and unstoppable.

The Guild Leader lunged for Tanguish and yanked him to his feet, a dagger shoved up against his throat threateningly. Helsknight stopped dead in his tracks, sudden fear shooting frigid lines through his veins. 

“There we are,” the Guild Leader said, smiling tensely. “Let's be reasonable here.”

Tanguish was awake and alert in the Guild Leader’s grip. There was an ugly purple bruise beneath one of his eyes, and he breathed irregularly, like it was a labor. His eyes were wide and fearful, and brimmed with unshed tears, his expression a war of relief at seeing Helsknight, and terror of the circumstances.

“H-Helskn--”

“You stay quiet,” the Guild Leader hissed, pressing the dagger against Tanguish’s skin. They didn't draw blood, but the delicate skin dimpled warningly. Tanguish let out a soft, fearful noise, almost too pathetic to be a whine. Helsknight seethed. Anger and fear were snakes in his ribs, his adrenaline a lighting buzzing to life in his veins. He felt like he had when he’d pinned the thug to the wall, desperation on the verge of moving to wicked violence.

“Let him go,” Helsknight demanded, his voice cold and soft as a deadly promise.

“I would love to,” the Guild Leader said amiably. “But see, I'm not stupid. As soon as he’s away from my knife, that sword is coming for me, and I would rather not flirt with the universe today, if it's all the same to you.”

Helsknight heard a noise to his side, the slip of a boot. He glanced over and saw two thugs waiting near the wall on that side of the room. One had a sword, the other, a daunting looking spear. A quick check of his other side, and Helsknight saw a third person waiting, sword in hand. 

[Blundering right in here had perhaps been a tactical error.]

“Drop your weapon,” the Guild Master hummed, and this time when they pressed their dagger against Tanguish's throat, they didn't relent until a trickle of blood spilled free. Tanguish, very bravely, did not whine, but he screwed his eyes shut painfully. 

Helsknight tossed his sword to the ground, and watched Tanguish flinch every time it clattered. He tried to collect all his helpless anger into the center of his chest, where he could bury it. Anger wouldn't help him right now. He wasn't sure anything could help him, but anger certainly wouldn't. 

[Tango.]

Tango hadn't followed him into the room. He didn't dare look back to see if the Hermit had been caught. It would just draw attention to him if he wasn't. Helsknight couldn't hear anything besides the cautious approach of the henchmen he’d stumbled in on. Their footsteps were hesitant, skittish. He felt them more than he heard them, like spider legs on his skin.

“Check him for further weapons,” the Guild Leader said, and as their thugs moved in to do so: “Well, this wasn't how I anticipated getting you here, but you did get here. So, now my threats can have the weight I need them to have.”

Helsknight was still listening for Tango, trying to figure out what, if anything, the Hermit might plan to do. He decided the best way he could help was to be distracting. [It would give the Hermit time to escape, if nothing else. There was no point in everyone getting killed here today.] 

As well as he could, Helsknight shoved his emotions down in favor for his Colosseum theatricality, to make himself threatening and dangerous, even disarmed. One of the only perks to being drenched in blood, was ir proved not all of his pretense was an act.

“Watch yourself,” Helsknight murmured to the brave thug who reached him first. They watched him warily, freezing halfway to reaching for his belted dagger. “I bite.”

They took a rather large step back away from him, and he flashed his teeth in something that was more snarl than grin.

“Don't be ridiculous.” The Guild Leader snorted. “Put your hands over your head or something.”

“I would rather not.” Helsknight splayed his blood-spattered hands, a motion that startled one of the three thugs trying [and failing] to search him into jolting back a step. “For obvious reasons.”

“Not my fault you decided to cut your way through half the compound.”

“And I'll cut through the rest of it before I'm done,” Helsknight said levely.

“I don't think so.” The Guild Leader said, and nodded to one of the thugs.

A boot planted itself in Helsknight’s knees, and he dropped to the floor. He caught himself with his hands, but the flicker of metal at his eye level kept him from springing back up again. The swordsmen were flanking him, their blades crossed over the back of his neck, the tips intruding on his peripheral vision. He had to force himself to breathe slowly, to ignore his panic as it crawled to life in his chest and set his heartbeat racing.

With Helsknight secured, the Guild Leader finally released Tanguish, shoving him roughly to the ground. Helsknight had to bite his tongue to keep from calling out to him. He didn't like how weak Tanguish seemed to be, how easily these thugs yanked and tossed him around. But he worried showing his concern would make their situation worse, or at the very least, give their captors vindication. Instead he glowered, and searched Tanguish for anything that could be wounding.

Their eyes met, and Tanguish flashed him an agonized expression. His voice was small and broken as he whispered, “I'm sorry.”

Helsknight found his resolve breaking almost immediately. His gaze softened, and he whispered back as comfortingly as he could under the circumstances. “Don't be.”

The Guild Leader flourished their dagger, a motion that set the metal flashing in the dim light. Tanguish flinched at the motion. Helsknight only watched it warily, waiting for the blade to find a reason to bite.

“I do pity you swordsman. I didn't want to get you involved--”

“A wise decision,” Helsknight growled. One of the swordsmen hovering over him tapped the back of his neck warningly with their blade. 

“--but you see, we here at the Thief Guild, well, you've heard the saying thick as thieves I'm sure. We built this place to protect each other. Hels is a very large, very dangerous place.”

They flourished the dagger again, and this time, Helsknight caught a flicker of something in the reflection of the blade. He couldn't be sure, but for a brief second, he thought he saw what he thought was firelight ducking back behind the wall. 

[Tango.]

Why was the Hermit still here? Surely he should know to cut his losses and run. There was no saving them from this. No way Helsknight could see, anyway. Helsknight couldn't run, even if his tenets didn't keep him from it, he didn't think he could break away from so many blades. Not now while he was pinned. And even if he could somehow fight through these four thieves, with no constricting hallway or element of surprise to aid him, he couldn't go back out the way they'd come in. Tanguish still had no reflection to leap through, and Helsknight didn't think he could get him one in the time it would take his captors to remove his head from his shoulders.

Dread and helplessness were poisons in his stomach, weighing him down, draining him. Helsknight realized, now that his blood had a chance to cool, that he was exhausted. The cut on his leg still burned. His arms throbbed, both from bruises and from his rough use of them. His back, shoulder and neck hurt from swinging his sword, and the contact of bodies. A bone-deep weariness was settling across him, and he was pretty sure just getting here already had him borrowing strength from tomorrow. If he were the sort of person who gave up, he could very easily see himself laying down here on the cold ground and waiting for the inevitable. There was only so much fight a body could muster.

Helsknight pinned his gaze to the floor beneath his hands. His brow creased in a slight frown. Slowly, praying the movement didn't draw attention, Helsknight shifted his hand over to rub at the smear of blood on his gauntlet. Netherite was not nearly so reflective a surface as iron or gold, but it did have some luster. He could see his own eye reflected back at him, and the hazy shapes of the swordsmen overhead. 

The beginnings of a plan tumbled together in Helsknight’s head. He thought there was a large chance it wouldn't work. He thought a lot relied on Tango being clever, and good at timing, and pragmatic enough to not make stupid mistakes.

[He thought, if the Hermit had proved nothing else today, he had proved he was good at those three things.]

Helsknight let out a derisive noise in the back of his throat, cutting off the Guild Leader halfway through their threatening monologue. They had been pacing, and now they stopped, flourishing that dagger in their hand again. 

“Can we speed this up?” Helsknight asked, disdain thick in his voice. “I'm not sure if you idiots have looked in a mirror lately, but you're not exactly scary, and I'm getting tired of kneeling on your stupid floor.” He narrowed his eyes daringly at the Guild Leader and spat. “Whatever you're planning to do, get it over with. There are a thousand things worse than dying here. Listening to you blow hot air for the next hour just might be one of them.”

The Guild Leader blinked at him, caught somewhere between incredulous and irate. Helsknight actually watched their face redden with anger. They stalked over to him, kicking aside Tanguish as they went. Tanguish who, as soon as Helsknight stopped speaking, immediately started making excuses for him. 

“He didn't mean it! Please, leave him alone! He's got nothing to do with this--!”

Tanguish started to crawl to his feet, but the spearman was over him in an instant, harrying him back down.

Helsknight twisted his arm so that the reflection on his gauntlet faced Tanguish. He knew Tanguish needed the physical touch to leap through, but all he or Tango needed to make the jump from the other side was the ability to see their other half--

The Guild Leader grabbed a fistful of Helsknight's hair and yanked his head back, twisting him uncomfortably so his throat was bared. Fear, cold and relentless, washed through him like ice water, radiating from the point of the knife as the Guild Leader hooked it beneath his chin, and all thoughts he had fled him. 

“You know,” the Guild Leader hissed, “you're entirely too smug for a prisoner. I think you could use some humbling.”

Helsknight suppressed a shudder, if for no other reason than he feared the jerking movement would slice him open on the knifepoint.

“I was informed you threatened to take off one of my thief’s hands,” the Guild Leader said. “I don't know about you, but I don't think a swordsman is quite so effective without both of his either, wouldn't you say?”

Helsknight's mind went very still, and very cold, emptied of any ability to reason and plan. He felt as though he'd been very abruptly shoved underwater. Fear smothered him, made him senseless and slow. What was it Tango had called it? Shock?

He thought [N…]

He thought [No…]

Someone shoved him down roughly. A boot stepped down on his gauntlet, holding his arm still and outstretched. The joint at his elbow was exposed, that diminutive gap between armor and mail.

He thought [He didn’t want this to happen.]

Tanguish was shouting.

He thought [This can't be happening.]

The people holding him down were discussing the best way to go about their business. Helsknight tried to thrash, tried to break free, but his angle was awkward, and he was tired and sore. The second swordsman pressed a knee against his back, pinning him down. 

He thought [Is Tanguish worth this?]

One of the swordsmen passed their sword to their leader.

He thought [He has to be worth this. Because otherwise it was for nothing.]

The blade gleamed as it was drawn back. Low light flickering. Helsknight's heart beat so fast he thought it might give out and stop. His ears rang, his head full of empty fear and animal panic and void static. 

He thought [

He thought [

He thought [S

He thought [Stop]

He thought [Please]

He thought [Saint of Blood and Steel]

He thought [Any God. 

He thought [Any Saint.]

He thought [Anyone.]

He thought [Anyone!]

He thought [Please.]

[Don't let this happen.]

Tango sprang out of the sword’s reflection just as it began its arc downward. His bow was in his hand, the arrowhead a blazing smear of reflected light. His flame was the blinding white of fear, and the anger that chases fear, and the fear that chases anger, and the anger that chases fear. He was, for a moment, weightless, timeless, frozen. He was, for a moment, the will of gods, and divine intervention, and the fumbled attempts of someone who lacked all heroism trying his best to be help.

Tango’s arrow took the Guild Leader in the chest. The shot was terribly close. The full force of the bow and the air and everything that made arrows work couldn’t work at such a short distance. Shouldn't work. But it was a very powerful enchanted bow, and the Leader was unarmored, and Tango was desperate, and a Hermit, and whether he knew it or not, the universe loved him deeply. 

The shaft sank halfway to the fletching in the Guild Leader’s chest. 

The room exploded into motion and sound. Tango landed heavy on the floor, and was immediately ducking a swung sword. The spearman lunged for him as well, and the one unarmed thug was busied trying to keep their dying Guild Leader from collapsing. Helsknight, all panic and anger, and the need to fight anything if it would stave off future helplessness, came lunging off the ground. He barrelled into the spearman, his shoulder planting itself squarely against their chest and sending them off their feet. Helsknight's sword was in his hand -- he didn't know when he’d picked it up -- and he turned on the swordsman and crashed his blade into theirs before they could stab Tango. 

Their blades met once, twice. His arms hurt. His chest hurt. His leg hurt. The edges of his vision were blurs, and the only thing he wanted was to make these people gone, now, before they could kill anyone. 

The Guild Leader was dead. 

The second swordsman had picked up their dropped sword, and they came at Helsknight with grim ferocity. He slapped away their lunge with neither finesse nor calculation, only the knee-jerk and instinctual power of the frenzied. Helsknight backed up a step, and his boot kicked into Tanguish’s tail. Tango was trying to help him to his feet, but when Tanguish tried to stand, he whimpered in pain. Behind them, the spearman was retrieving their spear, a hand clutched to their winded chest. 

“Get him out of here!” Helsknight snarled at Tango. 

The Hermit looked at him, looked for a moment like he might argue, and then to Helsknight's infinite relief, he yanked an arrow from his quiver. The metal arrowhead glinted as he turned it in his fingers.

“No!” Tanguish argued, horrified. “Not without--!”

Tanguish reached for Helsknight a second after Tango reached for him. They vanished. 

Leaping towards Helsknight from where they had been, came the spearman. Helsknight twisted, hacked away the spearhead, and lost his breath when one of the swordsmen lunged and jabbed hard at his ribs. What once was bruised, broke. Helsknight’s breaths, when they finally came, lanced him with pain, and that pain focused him, grounding his wits momentarily. This time when a swordsman lunged, his blade snaked out to drive into their shoulder, and they fell back bleeding. The second swordsman and the spearman attacked him in tandem and he back-stepped hurriedly, focusing on parrying the spear. His shoulders touched the wall behind him. The swordsman leaped for him, victory spurring them into a headlong rush. Helsknight’s sword sheared through their throat, and as they fell, the spearman lanced forward.

The air was driven from Helsknight's lungs again as the spearhead plunged into his stomach, punching through a few weakened rings of his mail and burying deep. Helsknight’s entire world narrowed to white, hot, electric pain, and the intimate wrongness of intrusion where nothing was supposed to be able to reach. He doubled over, his hands groping for the spear shaft, his sword dropped and forgotten. Before he could grip it, the spear was ripped from him, and he would have screamed if he had the breath to. 

Helsknight crumpled to the floor and curled in on himself, fists bunched against the wound. He didn’t know if he was trying to stop the bleeding, or simply trying to shield himself from the awful sight of it. Touching it made his hands shake, lanced him with another wave of pain, and a feeling of wrongness so intense he nearly gagged. He had taken wounds like this in the Colosseum only once or twice before, and that experience didn't help him. It was every bit as breathtakingly painful as he remembered, and it seared his thoughts raw. 

Out of the corner of his eye, a hazy silhouette loomed. The spearman was watching him. 

A shattered thought, more instinct than coherency, made Helsknight search for his sword. It was within reach. 

He wanted to reach for it, but fear stayed his hand. His wound was terrible, but it was in the deep, complicated places of the body that didn’t kill with immediacy. Helsknight, above anything else in life, feared death. He thought he would rather suffer here on the floor for the next hours, hels, the next days, if there was a chance he would live. That someone might bring him mercy, and healing, before he had to face down the maw of the universe and respawn. But if he picked up his sword… if he made himself threatening…

There was no one left here for him to protect. No one to distract from any coming wrath, or vengeance from the thieves in the hall. It was just him. 

He was alone, and he was dying. 

Fear sank its withering roots deep into him, twined in his ribs, where his already haggard breathing grew tight and suffocated. It wrapped around his spine, commanding him to be still. It commanded he wait, and suffer, and hope and pray and be helpless, for the barest chance death might pass him over. 

The spearman moved slowly, stalking around so that Helsknight could see them better. They were not anyone Helsknight recognized, though there was a detached coldness in their gaze he didn’t think he’d ever forget. 

“You’re so quiet,” they informed him, as he lay on the ground and bled. “Even when you’re threatening people, or in pain. It’s uncanny.”

Helsknight took a breath, and tried to muster enough coherent thought to speak. 

They kicked him. 

They only did it once, but they kicked him where his fingers interlaced over the wound in his stomach. It was a cruelty driven by frigid curiosity, someone pulling the legs off a spider to see when the squirming would stop.

If they expected Helsknight to scream, he didn’t. He would have, if he could. Between his fear, and the broken rib, and the intrusion of his diaphragm on the wound in his stomach, breath was a thing Helsknight could only sip shortly and painfully, in hitches and gasps. There wasn’t enough of it in him to scream properly. But every muscle in his body contracted in agony, and a gag ripped its way up his throat, and when the little breath he had left him, it left him in a whimper that shook and strangled out when blood pulsed with his heartbeat onto his hands. Helsknight’s vision contracted, edged in black, spangled by multicolored stars.

The spearman seemed unimpressed. They took their spear in both hands and studied him, considering.

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to be tough, or if you’re just pathetic.”

[Pathetic.]

[Pain made heroes of no one.]

The spearman moved, pointing their bloody spearhead down at him. For a moment, Helsknight feared they had decided to kill him and be done with it. They lowered the broad spearpoint down towards his hands, as though they expected to probe the wound again. Helsknight’s hand snapped out with a suddenness he didn’t even know he was capable of, driven by one last faltering, frigid spine of adrenaline. The dying ghost of self preservation. He gripped the weapon shakily, and hissed in fleeting gasps.

“Touch me again, and when I come back here for you, I will bring every knight and paladin in hels with me.”

Helsknight didn’t speak with sureness or authority. His voice was a weak and wincing thing that threatened to break at the end of every word. But he meant it. He meant it with every fiber of his being. A place like this, with people this cruel, could not be allowed to exist. Not if he was allowed the chance to leave. If no one else, he knew his Saint wouldn’t abide cruelty like this. 

Helsknight had never been a paladin. In truth, what the paladins went through in their blind service scared him almost as much as dying did, but he would unleash their fury on this place in a heartbeat. 

The spearman laughed at him and yanked their spearpoint out of his hand. It cut his palm, but it was such a small hurt compared to all the others, Helsknight barely felt it. 

“Really? And how are you going to do that, huh? Knights don’t listen to people like us.”

[People like us?]

“I’m a knight,” Helsknight gasped. 

They laughed again, “Really? And did you leave your cloak at the cleaners when you went on crusade?”

“It’s on loan, you asshole.” 

The spearman startled, turning on their heel towards the voice. Helsknight didn’t know when Tango had returned. Probably it had been just now. He didn’t have time to wonder how Tango had made it back to him again. Wels stood behind Tango, a look of horror and fury on his face. The resplendent silver and diamond of his immaculate plate didn’t gleam so brilliantly in the dim red of hels, but he was an imposing figure nonetheless. Wels’s own fist was balled sympathetically against his stomach, like he could feel the ghosts of Helsknight’s pain through whatever connection they had. His double’s empathetic rage washed over Helsknight like a wave, buried his own dread and fear beneath a wall of righteous fury. Breathtaking. 

Wels moved like a hawk swooping, quick and arrow-point keen. The spearman, caught off-guard, barely managed to lift their spear. 

Then Tango was kneeling beside Helsknight, cutting off his view. He swore bitterly when he saw the wound, and clasped his hand against Helsknight's, as if he thought the extra pressure would help. It didn't. Or if it did, it paled in comparison to the spike of pain it wracked through Helsknight. He must have made some pathetic noise, because Tango keened fearfully back at him, yanking his hand away. 

“I'm sorry! Just hang in there, Killer,” Tango said, rifling through his pockets for anything reflective. “I've got like-- like six health potions with your name on them brewing back at Hermitcraft. Just-- just-- you know. Keep it together.”

Helsknight didn't think the ‘keep it together’ was directed at him. He must have looked pathetic indeed, because Tango clasped his hand in Helsknight's in an attempt to be reassuring, and shouted for Wels to hurry up.

[Had the little fool really come running back here so fast, he forgot to bring a reflection to escape with?]

After what felt like a small eternity, where Tango mumbled awkward reassurances, and all Helsknight could do was breathe, and try very hard not to bleed to death, Wels rejoined them. His armor was pristine as always, though he had a new cut on his cheek, and a disgusted expression on his face. The emotions radiating from him were of the purest contempt, probably directed at the spearman he’d killed. They softened to pity and nervousness when he laid eyes on Helsknight again, like colors bleeding in water.

“It's a bad wound Tango,” Wels said hesitantly. “It might be kinder to help him respawn.”

Tango shook his head briskly, “I promised.”

“The trip through the void--”

“If you won't bring him back for me, move your metal butt closer and I'll bring him back myself,” Tango snapped. He grimaced and said a bit gentler, “They're scared of respawn here for some reason. I don't get it bu-- but-- just-- I'll owe you one. Okay?”

Wels sighed and looked down at Helsknight. It was not a hateful, cruel, or wary look. It was an expression like someone trying to make his way through hard choices.

“Wels--” Tango started again, but stopped when Wels knelt beside him.

“This will hurt,” Wels warned, and then pulled one of Helsknight's arms around his shoulders. Tango grabbed his other arm, and Helsknight's world was consumed by fire in his stomach, and a blurring of star-filled black and breathless pain. He must have cried out again, because Tango was babbling apologies beside him, and Wels radiated the kind of nauseating determination one acquired when about to embark on a holy war.

“Hold onto him tightly,” Wels instructed. “If we lose him between worlds, I doubt we'd find him again.”

They fell.

----- ----

The Universe was a living thing. 

It muttered, and felt, and spoke. 

It was not human. 

It understood, in broad strokes, human concepts like emotion and religion and thought and living and art. If it had a mind for metaphors and analogies, it might describe its understanding as the same understanding a human has for ant pheromones, or the way a sea slug hunts for certain chemicals in the water. A human hears the word pheromone and knows, to an ant, it is probably a sweet and enticing smell, like lavender or fresh bread, but a human will never smell an ant and smell something desirable. A human will hear the word chemical, and know whatever the slug is hunting probably has a taste, and to a slug, that taste is like honey, or sugar, or, again, freshly baked bread. But a human could never sift through the ocean floor and taste something enticing.

The Universe liked the idea of bread. 

The Universe thought, in the closest way the Universe could think about anything, in thrums and chords like discordant melody, in tapestry and weave and time, that the things it loved most in itself were like bread. They were molded and shaped, and through fire and heat, they rose. And they made something that smelled desirable, and tasted enticing, and the Universe, above all else, loved to devour. It devoured bits of itself every instant, and through that devouring, it remade itself again. 

And the Universe said: nothing is separate from any other thing. 

There were two bright stars falling through the Universe, and they smelled to it like baking bread. Between them, held in hands that clung for life and limb, was a dark spark of dying and nothing and never should have. It was a familiar never. It was a spark of flame made so one of its best loaves could rise. A bright star.

The Universe didn't want to devour that flame of never, and shouldn't have been. The Universe could not want, as all it needed, it was. 

The Universe liked to set itself to order. It liked the making of bread. It liked the things inside of it that set its world to order, and made with their hands, and rose. It liked things that were like itself.

And the universe said: you are a flame of what never should have been

And the universe said: I feel nothing for you, for you came from nothing

And the universe said: you are weak and small and failing

And the universe said: your heat may not be strong enough to form a rising

And the universe said: you are disorder, and chaos, and change for the sake of changing

The jaws of the universe neared, wide, and hungry. It liked to set things to order. It liked leavened bread. It liked two bright stars, very like itself. Between them was a dark and dying thing, that never should have been. It was a dark and dying thing that they should not hate, because nothing had no substance to despise. It was a dark and dying thing that they should not love, for nothing had no substance to enjoy. But it was a dark and dying thing that they clung to regardless.

The Universe clung to many things it should neither hate nor love. Things like stars, and orbits, and worlds. Things like code, and making, and living. 

And the universe said: you are creating change

And the universe said: you are creating chaos

And the universe said: someday you must be set to order

And the universe said: but the bread has not finished rising

The Universe let them pass. It did not decide to let them pass. If the Universe were able to speak in metaphor, or even in words that the pieces of itself could hear, it would say it could not decide to let them pass. Just as the lungs do not decide to breathe, and the heart does not decide to beat, and the spine does not decide to hold. As a heart that times itself to another, so that two bodies close together might feel comfort and belonging, the Universe timed itself to their movement, and they passed.

And the universe watched those bright stars and said: I love you

And the universe said: Even the absence of something has purpose

And the universe said: Rise

Helsknight must have passed out somewhere between hels and Hermitcraft, or if he didn't, he faded so close he had no memory of the crossing. 

He awoke on a bed that wasn't his own, hot and sweaty and uncomfortable. Everything ached. There was a persistent pinching and cramping in his stomach where healing hadn't quite finished its work. He was hungry -- or nauseous. He was thirsty. He was exhausted. He itched with dried blood, and itched again where links in his chainmail pressed uncomfortably against his body. Someone had done him the kindness of taking his gauntlets and boots off.

There was a cold hand clasped in his, a soothing reassurance against his own feverishness. That simple touch alone made him, inexplicably, want to cry. 

[It hadn't been for nothing.]

Helsknight opened his eyes and looked over to see Tanguish sitting in a chair beside him. The arm that wasn’t reaching to hold Helsknight’s hand was pillowed beneath his head. If he wasn’t asleep, he was well on his way. Worry, sluggish to wake through his tiredness, rose slowly in his chest. How long had he been out?

A flicker of light highlighted the doorway to the room he was in [one of the Hermit’s bases, probably] heralding Tango’s arrival. The Hermit was balancing three health potions in his arms, still warm enough from the brewer to be bubbling slightly. His eyes passed over Tanguish first, a look of weathered contentment on his face. He awkwardly shuffled the potions in his arms so he could run a hand through his hair, a small, worried motion that made him seem… very human. Helsknight didn’t idolize the Hermits -- if anything, he disdained them for what they were. But in that moment, he had never related to another person’s care and weariness so much in his life. 

“Oh,” Tango said quietly, eyebrows raising. “You’re awake.”

Tanguish’s eyes opened immediately. He sat up quickly, moving so he held Helsknight’s hand in both of his. “Praise every god and saint in hels.”

“Was I out long?” Helsknight asked, his voice a rough rasp in his dry throat. He started to sit up, and let out a painful breath as the twinge in his stomach shocked him still. It wasn’t nearly the unbearable stab from earlier, but it stiffened his spine and threatened to take his breath. Tanguish’s hand was on his chest pushing him gently back down.

“Easy does it, Killer,” Tango said, offering half of a laugh he clearly didn’t feel. He passed one of the potions to Tanguish, who got to work uncorking it. “That was intense.”

“I’ve had worse,” Helsknight said dismissively, not entirely sure if the statement was true. He may have had worse wounds before, but he didn’t think he’d ever had worse circumstances. He sipped on the potion and sighed with relief as the intensity of aches and pains across his body soothed. The lance in his stomach dulled to a bitter, persistent throb. He looked down in time to see what was left of the wound knitting itself back together, and then grimaced, when he realized the blankets he was on were spattered in blood. “Uhm… sorry for ruining whoever’s bed this is.”

“Blankets needed washed anyway,” Wels said from the doorway. Just about everyone in the room startled -- apparently Helsknight wasn’t the only one who hadn’t heard him enter. He’d taken off his armor, and stood in only a blue tunic and breeches, his empty scabbard cinched around his waist. The cut on his cheek was still there, though the blood had been washed away.

[Enough time to get rid of his arms and armor, but not enough time to heal himself.]

[Intentionally defanged.]

Helsknight curled an arm around his stomach, shielding a hurt that was no longer there. Wary.

“What happened? I have Tango's side of the story but...” Wels asked quietly, soothingly. It was not the quiet of violence or anger. It was the quiet of someone trying very, very hard to be nonthreatening. He looked to Tango first, and when the Hermit looked away awkwardly, not sure how to answer, he looked to Helsknight. “Please.”

“I-it was my fault--” Tanguish started nervously.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Helsknight interrupted. “A group of thugs took Tanguish captive. When Tango and I realized what happened, we went to get him back.”

Helsknight briefly toyed with the idea of taking responsibility for what had happened. He found himself… somewhat protective of Tango. Something noticeable in how he saw the Hermit as a person had shifted. He didn’t have time yet to untangle just what or why, but he thought if Wels was going to get high-and-mighty about what had happened, he might try to spare Tango from the brunt of it. It wasn’t like Wels could hate Helsknight any more than he already did.

“A group of thugs?” Wels queried, his voice taking on a slightly more grim cast.

“I didn’t know they existed before today.” Helsknight answered honestly. “They will not exist for much longer.”

Tanguish looked at him, startled. “You… you can’t. Helsknight they almost--”

“I know people who can,” Helsknight said. He downed the rest of his potion, and this time when he sat up, he did it painlessly. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at how gross he felt. He scowled disgustedly at himself, at his gore-splattered clothes. His arms were strangely bare now that the gauntlets were off, two swaths of unmarked skin surrounded by havoc.

“We should get you cleaned up,” Wels observed. 

“I will take care of myself at home.”

“Tango said your house was trashed.”

Helsknight shot the little Hermit a glare. 

Tango only held his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t think it was a secret, sorry.”

“Tango,” Wels said, his voice still that cool, soothing quiet, “I have some food cooking. Make sure Tanguish gets something warm.” He rested his gaze on Helsknight. “Come on. I’ve already gotten started on your armor.”

He disappeared into the hall. Helsknight, Tango and Tanguish all exchanged glances.

“If… if he tries to fight you,” Tanguish stammered, “come back here. I’ll get us home.”

Helsknight studied the empty place Wels had been standing.

“... I don’t think he wants a fight,” Helsknight said cautiously. He hesitated a moment longer, then stood and followed after Wels.

Helsknight’s other half had gone outside. He lived in a small castle away from the other Hermits, though he was within easy sight of one of his neighbors in the river. He had moved several tools outside: cauldron, grindstone, and a drying rack among them. Helsknight’s gore-streaked sword was propped up against the grindstone, his gauntlets and grieves in the grass beside it. The gauntlets had already been scoured once, though looking at them, Helsknight knew he’d probably be scrubbing them down with a toothbrush for the next few days before he got out every bit of blood. 

“No one’s on this side of the server besides xB, and he’s probably half a league underground right now, diamond hunting,” Wels said, grabbing up a rag and dunking it into the cauldron. “Get your chain and your shirt off. No one will care -- and if you care, no one will see.”

The bitter creature of animosity he always held for his hermit wanted to crawl to life and argue. You will see. But Helsknight was tired down to the bottom of his soul, and while Welst’s emotions seemed muffled and odd to him right now, none of them seemed to contain bad intentions. Helsknight did as he was told, peeling off first his tunic, then the chainmail and padding underneath.

“Leave your chainmail here,” Wels said, picking up one of his grieves and getting to work scrubbing. “Though I recommend taking your shirt to the water with you.”

“I know how to clean my gear,” Helsknight muttered.

Wels shrugged. “I didn’t say you didn’t.”

They side-eyed each other for a moment, gauging reactions. Helsknight sighed and waded into the water.

The river was cold. That was something Helsknight had to admit he wasn’t used to. Running water in this much quantity in hels was already a rare thing. This much cold water in hels was practically impossible. It sent goosebumps sprinting across his skin, and he had to grit his teeth to keep from squeaking ingloriously when it swirled up to his waist. Satisfied he was deep enough to suitably clean himself, Helsknight got to work scrubbing everything he could reach. 

He had hoped it would be soothing. At the very least, he hoped getting the blood off would ease the persistent nausea still squirming around in his stomach. Watching the water slowly redden around him, though, only made him feel sicker. What started as calm, scrubbing started to get rougher as a tremor worked its way into his hands. Every pass of his touch across his clothes, his skin, all earned him more blood. Helsknight found himself taking long, intentional breaths in an effort to keep himself calm. It was his hair that broke him. He carded his hands back through the messy locks, only for his fingers to snag on mats and tangles, and when he knelt down in the water to wet the ends and comb them out, a clot of brown-black ugliness came out onto his fingers.

Helsknight’s hands were shaking. What had started as low-level nausea suddenly twisted his guts in something much more intense and immediate. He stamped it down as best he could. He was the Champion of hels, for helssakes. He’d seen blood before. He’d seen more than blood before. He shouldn’t be acting like this, feeling like this. What was so different between what he’d just done, and fighting people he knew in the Colosseum?

[He’d never maimed people with the express intention of leaving them alive, in the Colosseum.]

[No one had ever kicked his wounds, purposefully, because it seemed like a fun thing to do in the Colosseum.]

[No one had ever held him down while he struggled and thrashed, and threatened to dismember him in the Colosseum.]

[And in the Colosseum, he’d never done that to anyone else.]

Helsknight didn’t know what repulsed him more: the den of snakes this whole fiasco had revealed, or himself. The thought of going back there, of leading knights and paladins to the place to clear it out, sent a pang of dread through him so fiercely, it squeezed his chest tighter, and made it hard to breathe. Helsknight shivered, and shivered again, and couldn’t stop shivering. 

[He needed to get the blood off.]

A sense of calm and serenity suddenly blanketed Helsknight, washed over him like the cold water of the river. It draped itself over his thoughts, slowed them to a halt. Tenseness in his shoulders and spine relaxed almost against his will. The shuddering in his hands stopped.

[Wels.]

Helsknight turned to look at his other half, who had doubled over the cauldron, a look of deep concentration on his face. He was breathing in long, slow, deliberate breaths, and when he exhaled his mouth moved as he counted. Wels, with determined intent, and no small amount of sympathy radiating from him like smears of sunset color, was anchoring Helsknight like a port in a storm. Forcefully, by controlling himself first. 

“You did what you had to do,” Wels said quietly, but honestly, and that honesty was golden light. On anyone else, it would have been a binding shackle, an imposition of will. On Helsknight, who was immune to that from Wels, it was a display of sincerity. “You are the perfect knight, Helsknight. You’ve said so yourself: Knighthood is ugly, and unkind.”

Slowly, like a storm cloud passing over, Wels’s blanket of assuredness rolled off of him, and when it did, Helsknight realized he was crying. They were small, contained tears, the kind of thing that came from fatigue more than anything. Shame and bitterness crawled to life in his chest, and he did his best to stamp them down. 

“Fuck I’m tired,” Helsknight said, the most self-aware thing the thought he was capable of at the moment. He should have seen this coming. The exhaustion after a long fight, the emotional fallout of finally coming down from fear and adrenaline. 

“I didn’t think it was wise to let you rest for too long,” Wels said somewhat cautiously. “I know us.”

“Needed to get cleaned up before everything rusted anyway,” Helsknight muttered, finally dragging himself from the river. His clothes would need another wash at some point. There were still stains that he hadn’t managed to scour away. But the blood was off his body at least. 

He looked with disgust at his sword, his stomach twisting again when he saw it. He forced himself to take it in hand and, when Wels offered him a rag, began wiping it down. Wels had moved on to his chainmail, running over it with a bristle brush to clean the links. Laid out beside him were pliers and a box full of rings -- apparently he intended on repairing it as well.

They worked in silence, broken only by the small, lethal noises of cleaning and polishing and scrubbing. Blood had gotten underneath the leather wrapping around Helsknight’s sword hilt, so he unwound it to re-oil the leather, and seal it with wax. Wels moved on from scrubbing the chain to repair, and the air filled with the soft clatter of the links moving, and Wels occasionally discarding links that didn’t fit back into the box again. Intermittently, when Helsknight’s mind had been still for too long, anxiety would make his hands shake, and the ghost of the boot against his stomach would twist like a knife in his guts, and his world narrowed to the quickness of his breathing and the determination not to vomit into the grass. Every time it happened, Wels stopped what he was doing and breathed, and counted, and, when the fit passed, repeated, “You did what you had to do.”

With a single-minded purpose they put Helsknight’s world back to order. It was as efficient as it could be. It was relentless, and determined, in the way two knights focused on one goal could only be. It was the slow, methodical purging of discomfort, seeking normalcy. Helsknight felt that Wels was trying to put him back in the box he was meant to live in -- force him back into being something he expected to see. Helsknight wondered, if their situations had been reversed, if he would react the same way. If he would piece his other half back together, purely because seeing him ripped apart was too uncomfortable.

[He thought he might.]

“What happened?” Wels asked quietly, as he bent another chain link in place with his pliers. He paused in his work, watching Helsknight with those frigid, sky-blue eyes. Helsknight thought they were carefully neutral, the wind holding its breath over a lake. “What happened to cause the panic, specifically.”

Helsknight looked down at his sword. He had polished it to a shine again, though he’d had to rinse the rag a few times to do it. The edge was marred with chips and dents. He would be sharpening it for ages. 

“Tango said you go to confession,” Wels said at length, when Helsknight said nothing. “I don’t know how yours works. Mine mostly involves two people sitting in a room, talking. Normally they can’t see each other. The anonymity is important. We could set our stools back to back.”

Helsknight shook his head. “You wouldn’t like how my Saint takes confession.”

A ripple of discomfort broke the intentional, smothering placidity clinging to Wels. “Tango, uhm, also said you cut yourself.”

“Prayer.”

“Ah.”

Wels snapped another link into place.

Helsknight picked up a whetstone Wels had laid out for him in the grass. He propped his sword against his knee. Before he ran the stone across it, something prodded him gently in the shoulder. Helsknight took the knife Wels offered him. It was a small blade, a tool, not a weapon, but the edge was sharp. Helsknight stared at it for a long time, while Wels patiently bent stubborn links into place. 

“I’ve never chosen this for myself,” Helsknight whispered. “The Saint is supposed to tell you your penance.”

“What did you do that was wrong?”

Helsknight took a long breath.

“... I was cruel.”

Wels snapped another link into place.

“... I was… cowardly.”

There was the rattle of metal as Wels searched for another link. 

“... I was wrathful.”

The pliers clicked as Wels pulled the ring apart, twisting it deftly, a practiced craft.

“... I served myself, and my aims, instead of my Saint’s.”

Helsknight turned the little knife in his hand. He let out a slow, steadying breath. He ran his thumb down his forearm, tracing the direction of the vein there. He stumbled through memories of going to confession, of what price the Saint had asked of him for similar sins. He decided on a cut to his sword wrist, something painful and inconvenient, that would take time to heal.

“Your Saint,” Wels said, and Helsknight paused before he could draw the blade across his skin. “Does he have more knights?”

“They have many, yes.”

Wels nodded. He pried another link in place and sat back, running the chainmail beneath his hands. He hadn’t completely patched the hole the spear had made, but he was getting close. A few more links until the gap closed. He ran it over his hand again, making sure all the links were laying in the right directions.

“I heard you speak a little… before we came through to hels.” Wels admitted. “Something about bringing every knight and paladin in hels down on the place. Does that include your Order?”

“Yes.”

“Will you tell… your Saint… everything that happened today, when you ask them all to come?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure your Saint will lend you hi-- their knights?”

Helsknight let out a slow breath. “My Saint doesn’t suffer cruelty.”

“So then, your Saint would approve of what you did today.”

Helsknight shook his head almost immediately. “No. They can’t.”

“You… uhm… you just said…”

“That was cruel,” Helsknight said. “That was terrible. I was terrible.”

Helsknight felt that smothering blanket of calm start to drape over him again, and he tried to shake it off. 

“I threatened-- I almost-- I would have--”

“They took your friend hostage. They tried to take you hostage.”

“I cut through so many people. You saw me. I was-- I was a bloody mess. I was a terror. I was a ruin.”

“They held you down and tried to disfigure you.”

“I would have torn that place apart brick by brick. I was one man, and I would have razed that place to the ground. I was the wrath of gods, working under my own will.”

“They stabbed you in the gut and tortured you with it.”

“Stop-- stop--- stop acting like I was being reasonable.”

“Then stop acting like you deserve to suffer for it.”

Helsknight flinched at another touch to his shoulder. He glared at Wels, and then blinked in puzzlement. Wels held out a hand to him, palm up, waiting patiently. Helsknight really must have been tired, because it took him far too long to realize Wels was asking for the knife back. 

“They tortured you once already,” Wels said quietly, sternly. “Don’t retread the ground for them.”

Helsknight’s chest felt tight. Something like panic welled up inside him so fast it was nearly blinding. He was scared. He was terrified. Not just by what he’d done, but what he was capable of doing. No man, no matter how desperate, or for how good a cause, should be allowed to do what he had done today. Not on their own. Not without divine intervention, something holy telling them what they’d done was right. He could not be trusted with the responsibility of starting his own crusade. He had no right to be judge and executioner, but he’d done it nonetheless, and it terrified him. And it terrified to know that, after doing it once, he now knew he could do it again. That couldn’t be right. That wasn’t allowed to be right.

Helsknight and Wels both moved at the same time. Helsknight, on the sudden unstoppable impulse to punish himself for what he’d done. Wels, feeling his intentions the instant they focused themselves into something actionable. Wels lunged at him, one hand a vice on his wrist, the other catching the knife before he could use it. 

“Helsknight,” Wels commanded, his voice glory-gold and relentless, “your Saint doesn’t abide cruelty.”

Helsknight scowled. He wanted to say yes! Exactly! He wanted to say that’s the entire point, you idiot! He wanted, very badly, to feel the blade running across his skin. He wanted to do something quick, and painful, and immediate to alleviate his guilt. He wanted--

“Does that include being cruel to yourself?”

Helsknight managed to twist his hands free of Wels’s grasp.

“Answer me.”

Helsknight shook his head.

“Is that a no?”

“I don’t-- I’m not being--”

“You are.”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does!” Wels snapped, his composure finally slipping. “A good knight abides by his tenets.”

Helsknight sprang to his feet suddenly, his panic exploding into something white hot and angry. “You don’t know my Saint! You don’t know my Saint’s will!”

Wels rose to his feet as well, and this, this was familiar. This was normalcy. This was the world set to order and correctness and--

“You’re right,” Wels said, stern and determined, but not angry. “I don’t know. But you do. So answer me. What does your Saint say about being cruel to yourself?”

Helsknight shoved him. Hard. Hard enough that Wels stumbled back over his seat and fell to the ground. Then he turned, angrier now that he’d acted, and kicked over the grindstone. Helsknight paced, full of angry, anxious energy. The rage and fury that chases fear. He wanted to run. He wanted to bite and kick and punch. He wanted to-- he wanted-- he wanted--

Wels, still laying in the grass, started counting again. Counting, and breathing. He was trying so, so hard not to spiral. To not give in to the way their emotions circled each other. Beneath the determination to try, to keep a grip on his sanity, was a depth of sympathy and compassion that was nauseating in its intensity. Someone who had witnessed atrocity, and for once, didn’t blame Helsknight for it. It hurt. It ached. It pushed its way into Helsknight’s chest, and begged him to relent, to be kinder. It was so different. It was so human. It wasn’t how the Hermits were supposed to be. He needed them not to be kind. He needed-- he wanted--

Helsknight realized he was crying again, only because he blinked and realized his world had blurred beyond recognition, turning to smears of blue and green. A sob hiccupped its way up his ribs, and he felt so stupid. There came another, thick and harsh and ugly, and then he couldn’t stop himself. He stood there in the grass like an idiot and he cried, loud uncontrollable sobs. It was the kind of cry he hadn’t had in years, maybe never. The kind that made him feel like a child, with emotions too big to keep in his body.

At some point, Wels crossed to him, and very gently, as though trying his best not to intrude, he took the knife from his hand. Then he righted the grindstone, and finished snapping the links into place on Helsknight’s armor. By the time he’d finished, Helsknight had managed to pull himself back together again, little by little. 

“U-uhm. We all, uh, we all alive out here?”

Helsknight swore colorfully. He passed his hand over his face, and demanded hoarsely, “How long have you been here, Tango?”

“Who, me?” Tango asked, a nervous laugh in his voice. Something behind Helsknight shuffled -- Tango grabbing up something to take back into the house with him, maybe. “Not long. Definitely. Probably. I wasn’t-- you know. Keeping tabs on you two in case you got a little too knightly or anything. I wouldn’t do that. I trust you. Implicitly.”

Helsknight snorted.

“It’s just, uh, you know. Food’s done.” Tango continued. “And uh. Also if anything else bad happened today, I think Tanguish would break in half.”

“We’re fine,” Wels said, calm, quiet. “We’ll be inside shortly.” He paused, and then added, “Uh, knight’s honor.”

“Right.”

Tango retreated, footsteps cushioned by the greenery. Helsknight was not used to the sound of grass. Stone, basalt, netherrack, hyphae. He had the sound of footsteps on those memorized. Grass was a rushing, soothing noise, almost like water in its consistency.

“I think your armor is as clean as it’s getting, without going over it with a fine brush,” Wels said. “I have more netherite plate. Spare stuff, in case I lose sets in the End.”

“Keep it.”

“It’s not charity. I owe you a set, from when we last fought, and you fell in the End.”

“It’s not… because of the charity.” Helsknight crossed his arms. “I haven’t worn plate for awhile.”

“Hm.”

“Why.”

Wels tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“The calm. The kindness. The…” Helsknight gestured broadly. “We hate each other.”

“We do.”

“So why.”

Wels looked away from him, quietly considering the ground. At length he said, “Apparently… your Saint isn’t the only person who can’t abide cruelty.” 

Wels reached a hand up to his chest and sighed. “When Tango came and got me… I didn’t want to come and help you. I could feel… something. Struggle. But you’re right. We hate each other.” 

He sighed again. “And then I stepped into hels.”

Wels chuckled bitterly. “Fear. And helplessness. And desperation. And Pain.”

He looked up at Helsknight. “I thought I was going to respawn on the spot. And I wasn’t you.”

“We hate each other,” Helsknight repeated. 

“We do,” Wels agreed. “But… I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

Welsknight offered Helsknight an ironic smile, “Not even you.”

The two knights watched each other. Nervous. Awkward. Worried. And underneath it all, an undercurrent of surreality and ridiculousness. Two enemies forced to admit some things could be worse than their rivalry.

“Anyway,” Welsknight said, “when you go back and storm the place, you have my sword, if you want it."

[mystcldydrms]

SOMETHING BETWEEN US - SIRIUS BLACK

prompt: "there is something between us."

pairing: young!sirius black x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: slight angst & fluff, cursing

notes: thank you for requesting. it took me a while to find a good start to the fic but I got there in the end.

He was your best friend. He was your soulmate. Sirius knew how you felt. You knew how he felt. However, you were scared. You didn’t want to lose him. He was one of the most important people in your life. You knew that trying to push your feelings away was the safest option, as of now, but how long would you be able to keep them locked up?

You tried to tell yourself that you and Sirius would be awful together. But every time a thought like this crossed your mind, you knew it was a lie. He would treat you like a princess. You could laugh together; he would still make fun of you, and you would do the same to him. Whenever the two of you were together, it felt natural. It felt like the universe knew that you were meant for one another, but the more you thought about it, the more anxious you got.

Another precaution you took was to spend as little time with Sirius as possible. It was easier said than done, seeing as though both of you were Gryffindors and you had mutual friends. However, for the last couple of days, you had been quite successful, only catching a quick glimpse of him whenever you entered or exited the Great Hall.

Today you weren’t as lucky as the other times.

You were one of the last students to pack up your things after another lesson on Transfiguration when you turned around and bumped into another person. You instantly knew who it was without even looking at him. Just his smell made the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

“Sirius, hey.”, you said to him as if it was the first time you’d seen one another all day. Of course, you had seen him walk into the classroom. You had stolen glances at him every few minutes during Transfiguration, and you knew he did the same thing, yet whenever he looked your way, you quickly averted your gaze and looked at Professor McGonagall again.

It felt like a lifetime ago that you had a proper conversation with your best friend, and you had to be honest with yourself, you missed him. You missed everything about him. His smile, his laugh, his touch. But there was still that pinch of anxiety in the back of your mind.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”, Sirius stated matter-of-factly.

A sad sigh escaped your lips as you shook your head, pushing another book inside your bag before you heaved it onto your shoulder. For the first time, in what felt like forever, you looked up into Sirius’ eyes, your heart breaking into small pieces once you noticed the worried expression on his face.

You absentmindedly bit your lower lip as you nervously started to play with your fingers. You knew you couldn’t lie to him. You have known each other ever since your first train ride on the Hogwarts Express. The two of you sat opposite each other. You were a rather shy little girl who wasn’t great at making new friends, however, Sirius was different. He started to talk to you as soon as your bottom hit the seat. He wanted to know everything about you, and although you had only given him one- or two-word answers, he kept talking until you had arrived at Hogwarts.

“y/n”, Sirius whispered your name, snapping you out of your daydream as you felt his hand grab one of yours, trying to make you stop fumbling.

“I don’t know what to say. And I really have to go.”, you announced quietly, pulling your hand away from his before you marched past him, your eyes getting a bit glassy.

“You’re not running away from me.”, you heard him say as he grabbed your arm, preventing you from exiting the classroom and getting as far away from him as possible.

“I really have to get to my next class.” “We don’t have another class until this afternoon, and you know this, so stop running away.”

You had never seen or heard Sirius be this serious before. The only time he had been this way was when he had told you all about his family and the way they had treated him once they found out he didn’t get into Slytherin.

You quickly wiped away the tears that were trying to spill out of your eyes, your hands shaking as you carefully turned around, not yet daring to look into the eyes of the boy you loved.

“There is something between us.”

Sirius confirmed something that the two of you already knew. Everyone knew it. All your friends talked about it. James and Remus once had a bet going on about when you would finally get over yourselves and start dating. James had lost that bet a long time ago. However, neither of them nor any of your other friends had lost hope.

“I know there is.”

You felt Sirius’ hand glide down your arm until he was able to grab your hand, slightly intertwining your fingers with his and this time you didn’t pull away. You even let him pull you closer to where he was.

“I’m just scared.”, you confessed.

“Why? There’s nothing to fear.”

“Yes, there is.”, you stated. “What if the two of us really started dating, and after a while, we notice that it isn’t right and we should only be friends? But we can’t be friends anymore because it would be too weird, and it would break my heart to ever see you with someone else. So, we can’t ever spend time with one another again, and our friends have to choose a side and – “

“y/n, stop. This is madness!”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips lightly trembling. Sirius’ hand left yours, only for him to cup your face, his thumbs gently tracing your cheeks.

“Can’t we start worrying about it when it happens, which it won’t?”

“No, Sirius, we can’t. You know I can’t. I’m not a young, reckless boy like you who always thinks life is a joke. I worry all the fucking time.”

Sirius leaned forward to press his lips gently on your forehead, instantly calming you down. He didn’t always know what to say, but he always knew what to do, and he knew that his touch calmed you down.

Once the warmth of his lips disappeared from your forehead, you opened your eyes again, noticing that the young Gryffindor smiled at you. His eyes were full of adoration for you.

“Okay, let’s talk now.”, he told you honestly.

“If you’re willing to give us a chance, I will be the happiest man in the whole universe.”

“Man? You’re a boy.”

The two of you couldn’t help but laugh, and you immediately knew everything would be alright. You just felt it.

“Let me talk, woman.”

“Alright, go on.”, you said while you wrapped your arms slightly around him.

“Like I said, once we’re a couple I won’t let you go again. You’re my y/n. You have been ever since we first met on the Hogwarts Express, and that won’t change. James already hates me because I talk so much about you. Nothing will ever tear us apart, okay? We both know how to talk; we can communicate with one another if there's ever a problem. You’re the love of my life. There, I said it. And I mean every single word of it.”

Your cheeks were already as hot as they could get, the blush on full display. Why did you ever think you could just turn off your feelings for him? You must have been out of your mind. Sirius was the love of your life. He was the man–boy – of your dreams.

“I love you, Sirius Black.”

“I love you too, y/f/n.”

And there it was, the moment you had been waiting for.

Sirius slowly leaned down, his eyes never leaving yours. You were able to feel his hot breath on your lips before he finally pressed his to yours. His lips felt like magic. You could hear fireworks explode inside of you as you kissed the man of your dreams for the first time. They moved perfectly in sync while Sirius’ hands slid down from your cheeks, only for his arms to wrap around your body, squeezing you gently. You let out a slight giggle against his lips, not once pulling away from him. You knew you had to breathe at one point, but for now, you were okay with just being in the moment.

Until you heard someone clear their throat.

The two of you instantly pulled away from one another, your heads turning to the right, only to find Professor Dumbledore standing in the entryway to the Transfiguration classroom. One of his eyebrows was raised, and an amused smile graced his lips.

“Shouldn’t the two of you be on your way to lunch in the Great Hall?”

You nodded your head one of your hands holding your bag while the other one took Sirius’ hand, guiding him and yourself out of the classroom.

“Of course, Professor. We were just on our way.”, you stated embarrassedly, walking past the Headmaster of Hogwarts, your cheeks still as bright as a tomato.

“See what you did.”, you whisper-shouted.

Sirius only shrugged his shoulder, pulling his hand out of yours before he swung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close against him as he dropped a swift kiss on the top of your head.  

“What can I say? If you hadn’t ignored me for the past week, we might’ve had our first kiss somewhere private.”

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

day fourteen: orgasm denial | NSFW MDNI 18+

Suken in your bed, the stillness of the evening wrapped around your mind. You toyed with yourself for what seemed to be the seventh time tonight, desperately rubbing out the unfaltering tension of today. Your hand moved slowly, stimulating your now, tired-out, sensitive bud underneath the blanket. The low rattle of your fan filled the space, muffling your moans and whines as you worked on your new impending release.

You had been thinking about Logan, your teammate, all day—his cocky smirk, the way he always seemed so effortlessly composed even amidst chaos, his gruff masculine exterior, the quiet power in his every movement, his hands, his fingers... Everything about him made your skin tingle all over, even when he wasn't near.

You hadn’t meant to lose yourself like this. But the heat had built up slowly, like a simmer under your skin. Knowing he was just a few doors down didn’t help; it made it worse, actually. The idea of him so close, that he could just come inside and—As you felt your stomach begin to tighten in that familiar way, a knock came from the door.

You froze in place but before you could even inquire about who was at the door, Logan pushed it open, filling the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes, dark and piercing, swept over you, and even though you were covered, you had the awful, thrilling feeling he could see exactly what you were doing.

“Jesus Christ.” His voice was low, a gravelly rumble that sent a shiver up your spine. “I could smell you from the hallway. You were thinking about me, weren't you?”

Your breath caught. Heat flooded your cheeks, burning with the shame of being caught. You turned your face away, but Logan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t rush. He took his time, moving toward you with that deliberate, heavy step of his, the weight of his presence making the air thick.

“You don’t have to be shy,” he murmured, his tone low but edged with that familiar gruffness, reaching out to tilt your chin up. “Look at me when I’m talkin’ to ya.” His thumb brushed your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were burning, dark and knowing. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been up to?”

“I—” You tried to speak, but his words held you in place, the shame mixing with the heat coursing through your veins.

He huffed a low sound that almost sounded like a growl. “Don’t need to lie, darlin’. I’ve heard you. You think I don’t notice every time you’re makin’ those little sounds down the hall? Whispering my name like you’re starvin’ for it. Can't get a wink of sleep after a long day, with you playing with yourself over here.”

You swallowed hard, caught between embarrassment and the undeniable pull he had over you. His other hand slipped under the blanket, pushing past your hand and traced a long slow stroke up your slick-coated folds. You stifled a moan, stomach clenching in anticipation, but you were only met with disappointment as his touch quickly disappeared. 

“Fuck's sake, Y/N,” he said, voice rougher now, almost taunting. “Here I am, walkin’ into your room, and you’re already soaked just from thinkin’ about me.”

 He leaned in, his breath warm and heavy against your ear. “My big dick could fuck that neediness right out of you,”

A  moan escaped your lips, mind barely wrapping around the interaction, drunk off the tension between the two of you. "Logan, please, I need you," You breathed.

 "Not so fast, bub'... I don’t think you deserve it just yet, gotta prove to me that you're gonna be a good girl and learn a lesson.”  His voice was low, commanding, that growl unmistakable in the quiet room. You reached to touch him but he pulled away, making you squirm under the sheets. “You’re gonna wait until I decide you’ve earned it.”

Your breath hitched, your body aching with the need for more. Logan’s smirk deepened as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying the power he held over you. "The more nights of sleep I get, the closer you'll be to getting what you want," His thumb brushed over your lower lip, his eyes flickering with something dangerous.

“Remember, darlin’,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “I’m the one in control here. You don’t get a damn thing until I’m ready to give it to you, understood?”

"Understood."

And with that, he stepped back, leaving you throbbing with frustration. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, as if savouring the sight of you desperate for him, before he turned to leave.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you were left breathless, the ache inside you pulsing harder than ever. Now you were going to be the one missing out on sleep, which was most likely the lesson that Logan wanted you to learn.

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[dotster001]

Dark End

A/N: Another, For Tuna, custom content end is here! I've tagged everyone from the of tag list, and everyone who voted for this particular end. If you wanna add your vote for the next one, you can do so in the comments here.

CW: Kidnapping, Yandere, manipulation

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Choose Another Ending

You groaned, and lifted your head, your neck aching from resting in that position for so long.

Wait.

How long was it?

The last thing you remembered, you were sipping tea with Jade, and he had said something about 'going home'. You made to stretch, and realized your hands were restrained behind your back. You shook yourself in your chair, hoping the chains were loose, but alas, nothing.

But the rattling was also how you realized you were not on the surface. 

The bubbles around you cleared, and you were met with two pairs of glowing, mismatched eyes. You couldn't help but roll your own as you released a released breath.

"Ha ha, very funny. You guys got me." You were used to the twins…. unconventional….pranks, at this point. You were pretty sure this one was to illustrate how easily you could be gently kidnapped. They'd been telling you to up your security system for months now.

"Heh heh," two voices echoed from the darkness.

"I get the point, I'll buff up security, and let you walk me to classes. Now are you going to untie me, or have I not learned my lesson yet?"

The glowing eyes turned to each other, before turning back to you. You shivered, your gut telling you you wouldn't like the expressions they were giving one another.

"Fu fu, while we appreciate you finally listening to us, that's not what we are here to discuss today," Jade said, his ever present smirk able to be heard in his tone.

The pair of eyes you knew to be Floyd's swum closer to you, bringing his eel form into view. No matter how many times you saw it, it took your breath away. So handsome, and yet so intimidating. But when you got over your initial awe, you noticed him holding a struggling, and gagged, Grim in his arms.

"What's happening here?" You laughed nervously.

"Hmm? Oh! Sealio," Floyd giggled, as though it wasn't obvious."See, he graciously volunteered to work for our family business!"

Jade swam up next to his brother, and gently scratched the top of Grim's head.

"So generous. But we need collateral, just in case something were to go wrong. Namely, you."

The twins looked at you expectantly, and you released another nervous laugh.

"Ha ha, very funny."

Floyd scowled, and Grim winced as his grip on him tightened.

"I don't know how we can be any clearer with you, Shrimpy. We. Want. You."

"Uh…"

You were starting to get the impression that you weren't the one being held for collateral here.

But with the look in their eyes, you should definitely play their game.

"Um, how long would I be collateral?" 

"I dunno, Grimmy what do you think?" Floyd jiggled Grim a little, and you heard some jumbled words from behind Grim's gag.

"Interesting point, Grim," Jade said thoughtfully. "It sounds like he wants to work with us…forever?"

The twins both looked at each other in, clearly mock, surprise.

"That's so cool of you, baby seal!" Floyd hugged him tightly in excitement. "But obviously, Y/N's gotta make some agreements first."

The twins looked at you, sinister grins mimicking one another in perfect synch.

"What kind of agreements?" 

"I'm so glad you asked!" Jade said, pulling out a golden contract that you assumed they had gotten off of Azul. He pulled out a pen, running the top lightly along your jaw.

"We're going to unlock one of your hands, and you'll sign this for us."

"What does it say?"

"Fu fu fu, we'll worry about that part. All you need to do is look into Grim's sad, pathetic eyes, and sign the contract. Think you can do that for me?" It felt like he was saying it to a toddler. But you guessed since you were the one who was so easily gently kidnapped, it was probably necessary for you to be talked down on.

"Okay," you said shakily.

"Wonderful!" Jade swam behind you, and you felt his fingers gently brush your dominant hand, before fumbling with the lock of that particular chain. He placed the pen in it, then firmly placed his hands on your shoulders. Just in case you were stupid enough to get any ideas.

You brought your hand forward, signed the contract, and then…

Huh.

How bout that?

What were you doing here?

Oh, there was Floyd!

And, you could tell from the distinctive cologne, Jade was behind you, massaging your shoulders, and softly kissing along your neck.

How sweet of him.

Sevens, you love them so much.

You just want to be with them forever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever.

And ever.

And ever.

And ever.

And ever.

The End

....

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[harrysmimi]

Okay okay soooooo this is my request. You totally do not have to but I thought it was cute. So Harry is himself and YN is a teacher at an art teacher at a school and he comes to visit them and the kids react to them being a relationship with himmmmm👀

Also I love your writing and I think you’re amazing❤️❤️

Idk about art that much. But music counts as art as well. Hope you don't mind.

Lunch Time

Synopsis: One where YN's students are shocked to see her husband (WC 1365)

More of my work

"Oh my god! Ms. YLN, Harry Styles literally has the same jumper as you!" Mary, one of YN's students exclaimed as soon as she walked in.

"Oh my— that's literally the same thing!" John, the other one from the very corner of the classroom.

YN was a highschool Music teacher, she was a big part of the art department of her school. All students loved her for some reason she never can pin point.

Today she wore one of her husband's jumper, a old brown one with green designs on the hem and the above the cuffs of the sleeves. When she originally picked it out of her husband's side of the closet she never thought it was something he wore in public where he was pictured.

She's been having symptoms of common flu lately after she visited her mum who had flu as well. Her husband being away on a tour from past six weeks. Though he's returning home later today she still felt the meed to put on one of his jumpers. They are soft, they're warm and they smell like him even though they've been washed.

She could not take few days off as she had already taken all her paid leaves to go see her husband at his Manchester shows. She needed that money to pay off her students loans.

YN never in a million years thought her students, who are bery obviously her husband's hardcore fans to recognise his clothes. It wasn't her first time wearing his clothes to work, that's all she wears om days she doesn't feel like dressing up.

"Oh thank you Mary, it's a gift." YN said. "Okay class settle down now." She began with her class her music history lessons. Taking a small five minutes break to go bring her water bottle she forgot at her office like an idiot.

Just as was about to leave her office, she got a text from her husband. He was coming home early when she told him a yesterday that she was starting to feel sick. He'd seen her be sick just once and it was just awful. He took the first flight home immediately after his show last night from France, which was very late in his opinion.

Mister⭐

- Hiya my love.

- I just landed in London

- Will bring your fave lunch today and we can go see a doctor.

- I love you so much! xx

It warmed her heart to see that. She sent him her lunch time.

- Yes, please.

- I'll ask later if I can take rest of the day off.

Mister⭐

- Yeah, do that baby.

- See you soon!

YN went back to her class but dismissed them early to move onto her next class with her headache boring holes into her skull from inside out. Again she had her students pointing out her jumper.

......................................................................

"How is Mrs. Styles doing?" Harry asked as soon as he stepped into her office with a bag of food from her favourite place, he carefully placed it on her desk.

It had been over a good six months of them getting married and he's still obsessed with her calling that name, especially since she had been so adamant about wanting to take up his last name. He's smitten like a little baby kitten.

"I took a painkiller for my headache but I think I still need to sleep on it." She explained, getting up from her chair and metting him halfway around her desk to take upto his welcoming hug.

"Yeah? We'll go home soon, okay?" He caressed her hair feeling her shake her head in agreement to him. "Gimme a kiss before we eat and I take you to go see doctor."

"I'm sick, don't want you to get sick." She lifted her head up to look at him.

"I literally won't get sick." He counter and got his kiss, smearing his lips onto her.

"We can actually go now, I already talked about taking a sick leave for the rest of the day and tomorrow." She shared.

"We can eat first, I know you skipped your breakfast." He made her sit down and eat as he talked about the shows she misses, which were all of them except for the London and Manchester shows. About the One Direction shirts someone threw at him which he brought with him, the other one he saved for her. Just as she was about say something, there was a knock on her door.

"Ms. YLN do you mind if I come in?" It was Mary, from the class earlier.

YN's head shot to look at her husband who looked completely unphased chowing down his noodles with his best chopsticks using abilities.

"What?" He shrugged.

"She's your fan!" She whispered. Having him caught off guard.

"Go on, I don't mind." Was his answer to her surprise.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Come in, Mary." YN called but not before taking another glance at Harry.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your lunch time, Ms. YLN, I needed help with this assignment that—" the girl with blue dyed hair was completely froze to surprise seeing someone at her professor's office she never could have expected. "Oh my god!"

Harry actually chuckled earning a glance from his wife though he had his shy kode switched on there, "What do you need help with, Mary?"

"I, uhhh... I actually forgot..." She stuttered looking back and forth between the couple, printed notes in her hands, "this, this assignment— I'll come in tomorrow."

"No it's alright, I'm taking a day off tomorrow." YN shared, "don't want your assignment to be delayed."

"Oh— okay." She gulped nervously.

YN went back to her chair behind the desk and had her students doubts cleared up. Though it took her long time to realise she probably did not get a thing.

"Email me your doubts, I'll and refer to the sites I recommended." YN said, writing down a couple of referrals for online sites. "It's okay, you can talk to him."

"Oh my god, Harry! I'm such a huge fan!" Mary bursted out pointing at her Fine Line hoodie.

"Thank you so much." Harry smiled shyly.

"Can, can I ask for a picture?" Mary asked but regretted it as soon as she spoke.

"Actually do you mind if we don't? I can write you up a note." Harry suggested instead.

"That's totally fine! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She freaked out.

"It's alright." Harry assured her. YN smiled and handed him a pen and her sticky note pad. Harry scribbled a sweet note for the girl and signed it for her. "Thank you."

"No, thank you so much." Mary smiled accepting the note Harry gabe her.

"Mary, please don't tell anyone just yet about this if you can." Harry spoke. "Maybe wait for a few days.

"Yeah, no I won't. I really won't." The girl was freaking out, she waved at him before leaving.

"She won't tell anyone Harry, don't worry." YN assured him getting back on her previous seat next to him.

"You think so?"

"I know so." She affirmed, "I've known her for quite a long time now. She's one of the nicest students I have."

"I'm gonna take your word on that." He smiled.

"Oh, and I got my new professor's ID today." YN reached for the ID kept on her desk face down. It had her name changed on her to Prof. YN Styles which had Harry smirking.

"Still won't be able to fathom we're actually married!" His cheek muscles ached from smiling so much in the moment seeing the ID card.

"Neither can I." She chuckled.

They'd known each other for only a year when he proposed and they got married a few months later. It wasn't rushed. But it was still surreal.

Harry was still anxious about Mary trying to post about their little interactions but she didn't. Harry never saw anything on the internet about them. He was relieved to say the least.

YN students liked her enough to not talk shit about her. Plus they needed their good grades to pass out of school.

......................................................................

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[velvette-creations]

In a vision or in none

House of the Dragon: Helaena + fem!reader (platonic) 

Rating: Teen 

WC: 1.5 k 

Prompt: Art Therapy for @sweetspicybingo (Hurt/Comfort Bingo Collection)

Warnings: Mentions of the death, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: You seek to assist your queen when she becomes burdened with her visions

The chalk leaves a powdery residue on Helaena’s fingertips as she silently moves through her chambers, caught in an invisible dance. Jaehaera sits beside you on the floor, both of you watching in awe as the queen brings the images only she can see in her mind to life. The wolf-headed figure, a source of unexplained fear, sends a chill down your spine. Helaena reaches for a piece of yellow-hued chalk and begins to sketch the shape of a dragon’s egg on the wall, a testament to her unique ability. One that many seem to ignore entirely.

“An egg!” Jaehaera squeaks, pointing at the image before giggling.

“Very good, princess,” you smile, smoothing a hand down her silvery hair. Today, she wears it braided neatly down her back, no longer wearing the style she oft shared with her twin, Jaehaerys. She was always such a shy young girl, seemingly trapped in her own mind, much like her mother. It breaks your heart to watch how they’ve adjusted to Jaehaerys’s death, but the ghost of the boy still looms in the castle—a tragedy to take one so young. You go to bed many nights with guilt gnawing in your stomach for trading the night shift with another maid, perhaps if you had been there…though there is no use pondering such thoughts. What’s done is done.

She trades the yellow chalk for a green one, creating a second egg, then makes a third of reddish hue before creating flames to surround them. The chalk falls from her hand, clattering to the floor as she steps away from the wall before slowly rocking back and forth on her feet.

“Ziry kivio dārilaros issa, se zȳhon suvio perzō vāedar issa. (He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire),” she murmurs, her voice dropping an octave, speaking as if caught in a trance. The words roll off her tongue expertly, and you realize this is the first time you’ve heard her speak in the ancient Valyrian tongue.

She steps back over to the wall and creates the form of a naked woman being consumed by flames. Your eyes widen, and you glance down at Jaehaera, whose attention is now occupied by a wooden toy. You did not wish to interrupt the queen, so you swallow down your inquiry. You can ask at a later time. Septa Alyane comes to collect the small girl for her lessons.

“Mama, Mama!” Jaehaera smiles, scurrying over to hug her mother’s legs before being taken away.

Helaena reaches her hand down, letting it rest gently on her daughter’s head before the small girl peels away from her. Helaena hums as she places the chalk down, walking over to the basin to clean her hands before dropping to her knees in front of the tiny wooden cages that house her crickets.

“Your Grace, may I ask what you said earlier?” you ask softly as you watch the insect crawl onto her finger.

“I do not always know what they mean. I only heard it in my head and felt compelled to utter them out loud,” she answers softly, her eyes flickering up to meet your gaze before quickly adverting them.

“Oh, I see,” you reply, looking down at the needlepoint in your hands.

“I wish I knew how to explain them better,” she admits.

“It seems a heavy burden to be cursed with a sight you cannot understand,” you say sympathetically.

“I suppose we all have our burdens.”

“There was a dreamer in your familiar line….Daenys, I believe. She is the one who saved the Targaryens from the Doom. Mayhaps your father’s books might hold some answers for you,” you suggest.

“Aegon had them removed.”

“Which means they must be somewhere. They did not just disappear,” you smile.

She returns the soft gesture before placing the chirping cricket back in the cage. “Would you help me…to find them?”

“I would like that very much, Your Grace.”

~~

The days proceed as thus: waking in the morning and breaking your fast before readying Queen Helaena and Princess Jaehaera for the day with the assistance of other handmaidens, playing the small princess on the floor until it is time for her lessons. Helaena marks her visions on the walls, and the afternoon is spent pouring over the histories in the library in the hope of answers. When Helaena reaches a certain level of frustration, moving her jaw and clenching her fists, you indicate that it’s time for a break and spend time walking through the gardens with her. It brings her peace as she points at the crawling bugs, informing you of their names and purposes.

“We all have a purpose in this world,” she hums.

“I suppose you are correct in that manner, Your Grace,” you smile.

“I fear I may never find answers to my visions,” she admits as an eight-legged spider crawls across her splayed palm.

“Do not give up hope just yet, Your Grace,” you encourage, though you fear much had been lost in the Doom and answers may never be found.

~~

You find her one morning, still in her night shift, hugging her knees to her chest as she rocks back and forth. Jaehaera peers out through the curtain surrounding her bed, purple eyes wide and worried as she watches her mother.

“It is alright, princess. Come to me,” you coo, opening your arms to the young girl. She hurries into them, and you hug her close, rubbing her back before placing her in another handmaiden’s arms. “Tend to her, and I will see to the queen. Please make sure no one disturbs us.”

She nods her understanding before leaving with Jaehaera. You sink to your knees behind Helaena, placing your hands on her shoulders. She digs the heels of her hands against her eyes.

“Make them stop, make them stop,” she wails, and it becomes clear she is overburdened with these visions she cannot figure out. You are unsure if they have grown more intense or if she has simply hit her limit with them.

“Shhh, take a deep breath,” you whisper.

She gulps for her air as she lifts her head, cheeks sticky with tears. You gently smooth your fingers through her mussy hair, tugging it away from her face. “I don’t want them anymore!” Her voice warbles through the air, and your heart breaks. Why have the Gods cursed her so? Why bestow a gift upon her that she can not comprehend? It seems unusually cruel, and you're reminded these are the same Gods who claimed the lives of two young princes. She clings to you, pressing her face into your chest. In the moment, she reminds you of a distraught child turning to their mother for comfort.

You hold her silently in your arms, stroking her hair and hoping you are providing her some relief. Her ragged breathing slows, and she glances up at you. “I am…better now.”

You give her a half smile. “Are you? You needn’t lie to me, Your Grace.”

Her lower lip wobbles. “I want them out of my head.”

You think momentarily, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “I may have an idea, Your Grace.”

“What is it?” Her voice is soft and curious.

“Come, you must stand with me,” you smile, helping her to stand before walking over to her desk and taking a piece of chalk into your hand before placing it in hers. She gives you a curious look, head tilting to the side. “Instead of drawing what you see in your head, draw what you wish to see. Not what plagues you, but what inspires you or what you wish to come true.”

Helaena moves over to a blank space before lifting her quivering hand. She begins to create, moving with dedication instead of a phantom force controlling her. You recognize the silhouette of Dreamfyre with Helaena and two other figures perched on her back.

“Who is with you?” you inquire.

“You and Jaehaera,” she smiles, turning to face you. Her cheeks are rosy, “We are flying across Blackwater Bay!” There is joy in her voice, and she turns to continue her drawing—a picnic in the Kingswood, the three of you holding hands while walking along the beaches of Dragonstone and climbing the Dragonmont in search of dragon eggs.

“Lovely ideas, Your Grace, and I know of one we can make come true.”

~~

The day proceeds as thus: waking in the morning and breaking your fast before readying Queen Helaena and Princess Jaehaera for the day before making way to the dragonpit with intertwined hands. The three of you easily fit on the large blue and silver dragon, with you behind Helaena and Jaehaera in front of her. The wind whips your cheeks, and laughter peels through the air. Jaehaera picks wildflowers while Helaena lays her head on your lap while you feed her fresh raspberries. She has come alive again and is no longer chained to her visions for now. You hold on to hope that this peace will last.

“You have set me free,” she smiles, her graceful voice carrying in the warm breeze.

[rendy-a]

Luck of the Draw

@writingforatwistedworld

An author I read recently expressed interest in reading what others would write about her Self-Aware TWST AU. This is a fan piece I've written for that AU. Check out more of their Masterlist here!

AU summary: When downloading TWST, an error occurs resulting in the game using data from your phone to fill in blanks in the TWST program.  As a result, all the Self-Aware TWST cast view you as the mythical Overseer of legend and develop a yandere level obsession with you.

I was in the middle of painting the roses but…I guess I can’t turn you away if you need something.  You frowned slightly at the line.  When your friend told you about Twisted Wonderland, you had dismissed it as another phone game in the sea of phone games.  Your friend was so persistent though, that you eventually let them talk you into it.  When you agreed to download the game, your friend had nearly vibrated with joy and immediately gone into advisor mode; telling you tips and handing out suggestions for when you started the game.  “You know, everyone has a Riddle or Leona card to borrow.  If you think about it, Trey is the smart choice for those defense tests.”  So, when the time came for your free SSR roll, you had taken their advice and re-rolled for Trey.

You know it’s only a game but occasionally you feel like you’ve made the wrong choice.  Sometimes when you logged into the game, you enjoyed seeing Trey all dressed up in the bright Heartslabuyl uniform.  Only, then he’d say his voice line and it had a way of rubbing you the wrong way.  He was just so…pushy.  Tea Parties and croquet matches are both special, traditional events in Heartslabyul.  As the vice dorm leader, I have to work hard for them.  So, give me some praise, ok?  You scoff and say lightly, “Great job Trey.  Those roses sure are extra red today.”  Maybe it is your imagination, but it feels like he smiles even brighter when you say that.

Then there are times where the mood feels terribly awkward.  You’d only agreed to try this game because your friend insisted that it wasn’t a dating game but when Trey offers you certain greetings…it makes you so uncomfortable.  I like hats, so I have several of them.  This one is a special one I had custom made to match our dorm uniform.  I’d be happy to have one made for you so we can match.  You offer what feels like a forced chuckle to the screen, “Maybe next time.”  It felt an awful lot like turning down a classmate you had no romantic interest in but still had to see at school.

You mentioned it to your friend and they laugh.  “You must be talking about Malleus.  Everyone says his lines feel borderline romantic.”  When you clarified that you meant Trey, they gave you a weird look.  “I don’t remember anything like that…”  You opened the game and tried to show your friend but the lines you could trigger seemed far more mundane than what you’d been experiencing.  You clicked back and forth from lessons to home several times to try to trigger one of the strange dialogs but to no avail.  It was just eerie.

The next day, you decided to keep a notepad and pen by your bed, so you could write down some of the crazy things you hear from Trey when you log in.  And, come morning, he does not disappoint.  There's nothing better than wearing clothes you are comfortable in.  Except maybe having friends that make you comfortable.  If your friends are making you uncomfortable, you can always come to me instead.  This one was new, even to you.  You gave your device a raised eyebrow and jot down the line.  Then you drag your phone with you to the bathroom (lessons can run while you do your morning routine!) and start brushing your teeth.  You almost spit out your toothpaste on the floor when your random gacha draw pulled a Dorm Leona card.  You thank the gacha gods; now you can swap out your home screen character without feeling disloyal to your SSR’s.

You talked with your friend at school and they seemed extra freaked out for you but, honestly, you feel much better.  You’d just push your strange Trey card to the back of your roster and never think about his creepy voice lines again.  Leona was a fresh breeze of air pushing the past few weeks of troubles from your mind.  You logged in far more than usual today, just to hear his new lines.  Before bed, you pressed your lips to your screen, wishing your new favorite a good night.  Things were so much better with your new man in your life and Trey was just like a bad memory.

The morning was not what you expected.  You opened the game to find Trey back on your home screen.  You looked at it in alarm as he greets you with a stern look.  You are coming to our next Unbirthday Party.  I’ll be waiting to hear what you think of my preparations for you.  It feels almost sinister.  You move to stand from your bed but find yourself unexplainably weak.  You tumble to the floor, your head resting near your phone.  The last thing you see is the ever-widening smile of Trey.  “I’ll see you soon, dearest Overseer.”

[lucy90712]

Ice skating- Fermin Lopez

When it's winter and cold outside there isn't much to do especially when your boyfriend hates the cold and refused to be outside unless he has to be. Somehow I managed convince him to go ice skating with me I was expecting him to fight me on the idea but he happily agreed to go for our date night this week. I'm not sure if I have excellent persuading skills or if Fermin will just say yes to pretty much anything I ask because he loves me. Fermin doesn't know that I have been skating before, I went quite a bit as a kid and I have been a few times as I've got older so I know what I'm doing. I'm definitely not great but I can hold my own on an ice rink but I can't wait to see Fermin on the ice he's never been the most graceful person so I expect he'll be a little unsteady on his feet at best. 

Like always he came over before we needed to leave so that he could spend some extra time with me. That's something I love about Fermin he just wants to spend time with me so he'll always come over even when I'm not doing anything interesting or we have no plans as he just enjoys my company. Today he brought lunch with him so we ate lunch together and he helped me get ready by picking out a hoodie of his I have in my collection to wear over my outfit so I don't get cold. He also made me change out of the leggings I had on as he said I'd be too cold so I put some jeans on which he was satisfied with and allowed us to leave the house finally. The ice rink wasn't far from my place but Fermin can no longer just walk through the streets like he used to so he drove there and found somewhere nearby but quiet to park. 

We pretty much ran inside as there was a lot of people about and Fermin didn't want to spend ages taking pictures and signing things. He loves the fans he really does but at times like these he doesn't want to be disturbed as there has been occasions when I've waited like 40 minutes just for him to finally be let go by the fans. Once we made it inside there was a lot less people around and none of them seemed too bothered by our presence which was nice. Fermin paid and got our skates before taking me over to a bench so we could actually put them on. I did mine quite quickly as I've done it many times before and I know they need to be tight but Fermin was struggling as they were just too loose on him. He didn't want to admit defeat for a while but after a few attempts he asked for my help so I did his laces up for him. 

"Is my big baby ready to go" I laughed 

"I'm not a baby skates are just stupid how did you manage it?" he asked 

"I've been skating before I went quite a bit as a kid so I knew how to do the laces" I revealed 

"Why didn't you tell me I thought we would both struggle together now I'm going to look like an idiot" he said 

"You won't look like an idiot I promise most people aren't going to know how to skate" I said

"You'll hold my hand though right?" He asked 

"Of course I will can't have you falling over can I" I laughed 

Fermin didn't seem to appreciate my joke but still he grabbed my hand and I led him onto the ice. He was as stiff as a board to begin with but I held onto both of his hands and skated backwards so I could teach him how to skate. Fermin is a quick learner and he always listens to instructions so he worked things out pretty quickly and was able to skate next to me when I let go of one of his hands after a few rotations round the ice. As much as he was getting more confident his grip on my hand didn't let up I don't know if that was because he was scared of falling or because he just didn't want to let me go but either way I kind of enjoyed that he felt like he needed to hold onto me so tightly. 

We had a lot of fun together talking as we skated round and maybe laughed at a few people who fell spectacularly because it is kind of funny. There was also some amazing little kids who have clearly been having lessons that we just watched in awe both wishing we could do that. It had been the perfect date we got to go out somewhere and enjoy time together without really being disturbed at all. Both of us were having so much fun until some guy came speeding round the rink and slammed right into me. I didn't seem him coming as he was behind us but luckily Fermin is pretty strong as he was able to help keep me on my feet as otherwise I would've been on my ass in seconds. Fermin pulled me into his chest as we both came to a halt in the middle of the ice, his hands went straight to my face to see if I was ok as he can read me like a book by just looking at my expression. I've learnt to read him pretty well too but you didn't need to be a genius to see that he was mad and like really mad. 

"Watch where you're going mate" Fermin shouted after the guy who just kept going 

"Are you ok amor?" He asked 

"I'm completely fine I just didn't see him coming" I said 

"I'm not surprised he should've gotten out the way but he didn't because he's an asshole" he raged 

"It's ok forget about that and forget about him I'm not hurt so everything's fine" I said trying to calm him down 

"I'm glad you're ok but that doesn't mean that guy should get away with doing that" he continued to argue 

"Why don't we get out of here so we don't have to worry about him any more and before you do something you'll regret" I suggested 

"We should get hot chocolate to warm us up" Fermin said with a complete change of mood 

Thankfully there is a cafe just across the road from the ice rink so we headed straight there and ordered two hot chocolates with marshmallows. I left Fermin to get the drinks while I found a table for us both and he came back he had the two hot chocolates but also a cupcake which he put in front of me with a big smile on his face. I tried to share with him but he insisted that I sat the whole thing and who am I to say no to a cupcake especially one that was so delicious. Fermin quickly forgot about what happened with that guy and was just saying how much he enjoyed ice skating and that he wants to go again so that he can get good at it. Of course we can’t go that often but we agreed that we should go together again for another date night which I’m really looking forward to. 

[theblack3stday]

My Rival — Lily Evans

Pairing: Lily Evans x female reader

Summary: Lily and you are academic rivals.

A/N💌: Hey! This is my first x reader imagine and i’m soooo excited about it. I hope you like it. And a big warning, english is NOT my native language.🫶🏻

Word count: 2420

Warnings: angst (w/ happy ending), bullying, cursing

The sun was setting over the castle, casting a deep reddish-orange glow over the castle grounds, as Lily Evans strolled down the main hallway, alone. Her eyes, still weary from endless hours of studying, were set on her path straight ahead. The cold marble floors echoed with her footsteps. Her eyes narrowed upon seeing a silhouette, and then they widened once she realized the figure belonged to the Slytherin girl she hated. What the hell was here doing in this hallway? She thought. As the girl passed in front of her, Lily couldn't resist a few snide remarks. She rolled her eyes, and barked out "Are you lost? This isn't the Slytherin common room, you know." The girl whirled around, the moonlight illuminating her facial features, with a devilish expression. "I am aware. I was simply passing through." she replied, maintaining a snarky tone.

Lily couldn't help but get worked up from her constant provocations. The girl’s words clearly affected her, even though she didn't admit it. She glared back at her, her face filling with fury. Lily kept her lips pressed together tightly, breathing in and out, and tried to remain calm. "Today, you won.” she hissed, attempting to hide her emotions. The girl’s smile widened, knowing that she had successfully gotten under her skin. “But, just let me tell you, I won't let you look down on me like that. My intellect is just as good as yours, if not better. You won’t win, just because you’re a Slytherin, again." Lily walked away.

You and Lily have been rivals since forever, competing in class to determine who was smarter. You were always one step ahead, always getting higher grades than her, and it always made her feel inferior. She was a muggleborn and she was thinking that it was the reason why you were more successful than her. The arguments always got more intense the more you argued, until you could barely stand to be in the same room without fighting. You were in a constant state of tension, always trying to one-up each other and prove who was better. A Slytherin and a Gryffindor, you two were born to fight with each other. Despite it all, you both felt something deeper, a desire to be together, but your pride and anger prevented you from admitting it.

There you two were again, Potions class and competing over your dead body. The lesson was a simple one, and you were both very confident about your answers. Lily's eyes narrowed as she watched you writing down your answers, always finishing just before her. She refused to let a Slytherin best her again. Her hands trembled as she tried to write down her answer faster, but her hands wouldn't move quickly enough, and she always finished right behind you.

You saw her panicked and you actually enjoyed that. You raised your hand and talked with an annoying voice, knowing she will be frustrated “I’m done, professor.”

Slughorn smiled to you nicely “Well done, Miss Y/l/n! 10 points to Slytherin.”

Lily sighed with disappointment, while you were getting all the compliments by Slytherins.

Today wasn’t your day. You were sure. It had been an awful morning, you thought, a day that couldn't get any worse. After breakfast, you were the victim of a terrible prank by the Marauders, and you were still fuming from the incident. Now, it seemed that the day was bound to continue in that same vein. You sighed, as it was time for Potions class and you knew what that meant: you were competing with Lily Evans again. A constant battle, and a rivalry that refused to die. The two of you always fought tooth and nail, and today was no exception.

Lily was prepared very well for today and your bad luck helped her too. She successfully made the Amortentia.

“Miss Evans, you’re progressing every day more and more. 20 points to Gryffindor.” Slughorn said proudly.

Lily was already gloating, a smug look on her face, as if the universe was on her side. You couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as you realized what Slughorn had just said. Lily had successfully made the Amortentia potion, while you had struggled to create any of the ingredients. Slughorn then announced that she'd earned twenty points for Gryffindor. The rivalry was clearly in Lily's favor today. She'd made all the right choices, and you'd missed every opportunity. You couldn't believe you lost to a Gryffindor. The Marauders thought your misfortune was the funniest thing in the whole world. All five of them were huddled nearby, their faces twisted into mocking grins as they watched the whole scene unfolding. They found it hilarious that you were so unlucky today, and that you could never catch a break. They were waiting for your reaction, your face twisting into anger and disbelief as you realized that you were once again losing to Lily, due in part to their pranks. Their grinning faces was like a nightmare for you. You were full of anger and disappointment. You clenched your fist and narrowed your eyes to try and hold back the rage that was boiling up inside of you. You struggled to contain your jealousy as Lily gloated and took all the glory. The Marauders continued to snicker and smirk, their taunting laughs ringing in your ears like a bell of shame.

Finally, you snapped. You charged towards the Marauders, ignoring all the other students standing around you. You lashed out with a furious yell, releasing all your anger towards them. “Do you think it’s funny?”

"What do you think you're doing?" James asked.

"Shut up!" you shouted angrily.

"Or what?" James sneered.

"Or I'll kick your ass!" you replied, your voice full of venom.

"Is that so?" James taunted.

"Yeah, and it'll put you in your place for good!" you said, getting more furious by the second.

"Y/l/n enough!" Lilly shouted across the hall from where she stood.

"Potter, too," she added, pointing at James with a disapproving look on her face.

You froze in your tracks and looked over at Lily.

James ignored Lily and looked at you “Go on then," he taunted, "put me in my place. I dare you to try."

"Don't worry, I will," you growled.

You rolled your eyes with annoyance as Slughorn approached you.

“Miss Y/L/N and Mr Potter, detention. Come to my room after the classes,” he stated firmly.

“I don’t see any reason for detention. I was merely defending myself,” you said.

However, Slughorn didn’t seem like he was going to give you any leeway this time.

“She’s right, professor. Potter was just messing with her and she just defended herself.” Lily was adamant that Slughorn was wrong in giving you detention. She insisted that since you were only defending yourself, you weren't doing anything wrong. However, Slughorn stood his ground and refused to let you off the hook.

"Detention after class is necessary to ensure that both students understand the consequences of their actions," Slughorn stated firmly. “But… Since Y/n is a very successful and hardworking student i can make an exception just for this time.”

James' face dropped as he heard the news. Potter's smug smile fades from his face and a look of disappointment crosses his eyes.

"Lucky you," James grumbled quietly.

"You're letting her go?" Sirius asks, incredulously.

"Yes, since she's a very successful student, I'm letting her off the hook just this once," Slughorn replied. He gave you a stern look, letting you know that he was serious.

You couldn’t say anything and go back to your seat. Despite your rivalry, Lily was adamant that James was in the wrong and that you were just defending yourself. She even stood up for you in front of Slughorn, something she rarely does since she's usually on his good side. You were surprised, as you didn't think she would ever defend you, but you were pleased that she did. Maybe she wasn’t that bad?

You were sitting outside, reading a book and contemplating Lily's nice attitude from the day before. You're thinking that maybe she isn't so bad after all. You also think of all the other times she's been nice to you, making you realize that despite being rivals, there's actually a lot of respect and admiration between the two of you. You smile as you continue reading, feeling more optimistic about the day ahead. You wanted to talk to her.

A while later, you see the Marauders approaching and your smile quickly disappears. You immediately know that they have their sights set on someone, and it's most likely Snape. Snape has always been their main target of bullying over the years. They laugh and smirk as they approach him, their expressions full of hatred and animosity. You didn’t say anything because you knew that wouldn’t help.

After a minute you heard a familiar voice yelling at them. "Leave him alone,"

She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike.

The argument continued a while. You weren’t that much interested until you hear Snape. "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Lily blinks for a moment at the insult, and her expression freezes, as if she can't believe what he said. "Fine," she said coolly. "I won't bother in the future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

As Lily walks away, she feels a wave of anger wash over her. She can't believe Snape would call her a Mudblood. She stops walking for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. You ran after her, trying to find the redhead everywhere. When you find her, you see her crying.

Lily stops walking, suddenly feeling like her heart is about to explode. The anger and hurt are overwhelming her. She has never been called a Mudblood before, and the shock of the insult is making her feel like she can't breath. Suddenly, the sound of someone coming over to her catches her attention. She turns around and sees you walking towards her...

"Lily," you said. Lily looked at you with watery eyes, her emotions are still raw and unstable. “Not now, Y/l/n.”

You could sense the weight of her distress, the unspoken turmoil beneath the surface. Taking a step closer, you spoke softly, “I understand, Lily. But whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you. We can talk when you feel comfortable.”

She nodded slightly, appreciating your understanding. The place fell into a contemplative silence, allowing Lily the space she needed to navigate through the tumultuous sea of emotions. You two sat down to the floor. You hugged and comforted Lily without hesitation. The feeling of having someone there for her brings her some sense of comfort. Lily could never have imagined falling into this situation and finding solace in your arms, but here she was, in the embrace of your arms. She was filled with conflicting feelings as you hold her in your arms, providing her a sense of comfort. She found herself wanting to stay in this moment forever, the feeling of warmth, safety and acceptance she's experiencing is intoxicating. She had never felt anything like it before and she was not sure if she's ready to let it go.

In the midst of the quietude, you and Lily remained seated on the floor, the atmosphere saturated with an unspoken understanding. Your arms encircled her, a secure haven that provided a comforting refuge.

"Thank you," Lily whispered, her voice carrying the weight of gratitude. She looked at you with eyes that held a mix of vulnerability and appreciation.

You responded with a soft smile. "Anytime, Lily. Take all the time you need."

The serene moment extended, and Lily, with every passing second, felt a sense of acceptance she hadn't known before.

"Sometimes, it's just nice to have someone here, even your rival" you remarked, your voice a gentle murmur, acknowledging the shared solitude.

Lily nodded, the conflicting emotions within her beginning to settle, giving way to a profound tranquility. In this serene interlude, you gently whispered words of comfort, acknowledging the fragility of the moment yet assuring her of your unwavering support.

"Your presence means more than words can express, my rival" Lily admitted, her eyes reflecting the depth of her emotions.

The seconds stretched into minutes, and the air was thick with an unspoken connection. In this intimate space, Lily hesitated to break the enchanting spell, feeling an inexplicable desire to prolong this moment indefinitely.

"This feels... different," Lily confessed, her gaze fixed on a point beyond the room, lost in introspection.

The feeling of warmth, the safety emanating from your embrace, and the acceptance she found in your arms created a heady blend, weaving a tapestry of emotions that she never thought possible.

As the quietude enveloped you both, the desire to stay locked in this tender exchange grew stronger. The pull of the moment transcended the ordinary, cocooning you both in a shared sentiment that words could scarcely capture.

And then, as if an unspoken agreement hung in the air, your eyes met. In that tender gaze, a silent understanding passed between you.

"I... I don't want this moment to end," Lily confessed, her vulnerability laid bare.

You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Some moments are meant to be cherished, Lils."

"Can I ask you something?" Lily asked, with low and gentle voice. You could feel her breathing close to your body, and her hot breath is tingling just beside their lips.

"Yeah, anything," you responded.

Lily gets even closer to you, her breath hot and soft, barely a whisper of air passing between your bodies.

"What are you doing to me, Y/l/n?," she asked softly.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as she was getting closer and her hot breath was tingling close to your lips. Your muscles tensed and your body leaned towards her, wanting nothing more than to kiss her.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure, but there was no denying the heat that's building up between you.

"I'm trying not to kiss you," you said softly, your voice trembling with desire. “Fuck it, i can’t!” Your lips covered hers, moving slowly and softly, and sending a surge of heat and sensation through your bodies.

The kiss lingered, a promise of the comfort, warmth, and acceptance that had defined this unique moment.

“I love you, Y/l/n.” she whispered.

“I love you, Evans.”

[whoiwanttoday]

At some point during the pandemic I suddenly couldn't really do pizza anymore, or ice cream. This happens as you get older, suddenly you can't do foods you used to be able to and the ice cream hurts but the pizza is not as big a loss for me as the rest of the world would think it is. Dairy just doesn't agree with me anymore but i am reluctant to say I am lactose intolerant because I haven't been tested. When I brought it up to my doctor he said, "Does not eating dairy help?" I said yes and he said, "Well, keep doing that". This was, of course, deeply unsatisfying because I could have fucking done that, I really wanted a test to tell me that yes, I am now lactose intollerant and also a medical marvel in some way. I am not asking for a parade, though that would be nice, but something other than what a quick google could have told me. Anyway, this leads to why I feel gross this weekend, I mean besides the usual reasons. The extra reason. I was off on Friday and my brain hates me in many ways and one of the ways is the dipshit way in which it fools me into doing dumb shit. At some point on Friday I thought, "I should get a pizza". The local place had their special pizza, an Elote Pizza, celebrating Duke's Hot Tomato Summer and I mean, it's a limited time and has things I like so I was like, I should get a pizza. And part of me knew it was a bad idea but my brain was like, "It's a day off, it's fine". In the moment, that made total sense to me. I am off today, thus dietary restrictions don't apply. Because my brain is a fucking idiot and the next day as I felt awful it was like, "Why would having a day off make this ok?" The real kicker is I am not that into pizza. It's fine. I had the same pizza experience I always do, where I have a slice, then a second one, then I am like, "Well, that's enough pizza for 6 months, what am I supposed to do with the rest of this because I am now tired of pizza and do not want to eat it".

Which brings us to Janhvi Kapoor, who I have posted once before and gave you guys quite the lesson on what a Kapoor is. You might wonder how she is related to Pizza and my crumbling physical body to match my broken brain and I am here to tell you the answer is that I chose to do all that dumb pizza related stuff this weekend AND I chose to post her, which is a remarkably good decision after a stream of bad decisions. Like Walt Whitman, I contain multitudes. I have no idea about Janhvi Kapoor's stance on pizza but I know she is attractive so here she is, I chose all pictures I like but because she's always nice to me I did choose one picture just for @kat-eleven. Today I want to fuck Janhvi Kapoor.

[mc-lukanette]

Luka laughed into the phone. "Marinette, I'm sure you don't need lessons anymore. Your playing already sounds amazing."

"You say that all the time," she huffed, Luka grinning as he imagined the pout on the other end of the line. "Besides, it'll—it'll be different! We'll be in a real place you'd play music instead of your room, so you can judge my playing fairly!"

"Mhm~"

"And I already called Penny so she could get it! There'll be some extra time too if you want to call the others to practice—!"

"You don't have to try to convince me," he cut in, leaning back on his bed casually. "I'm looking forward to it."

"It? How—?!" She paused, then let out a sheepish giggle. "Right, our lesson. Gotcha. See you later!"

She hung up before he could reply. Still, he said a fond, "See you," into his phone even though she couldn't have heard it. As he took it away from his ear, he navigated to his gallery and tapped on the picture that Juleka had taken of Marinette's first guitar lesson with him.

More specifically, it was a screenshot he'd taken of Marinette's post online that contained said picture. He already adored the picture itself - even if he'd been a fool to be staring at Marinette while a camera was being pointed at him, trapping his love-struck face into eternal replay - but Marinette's caption just made it better.

Starting guitar lessons today courtesy of Luka! 🥰🎶

He grinned wider, the heart face in particular warming him. Regardless of how Marinette saw him romantically, she clearly thought highly of him and that was enough.

She was good - really good - at guitar, just like he knew she'd be. She listened to him with every lesson, asked politely for feedback, and was willing to admit when there was something she didn't understand.

The only tragedy that came with seeing her get better was knowing that their lessons would get shorter and eventually come to an end altogether. Luka vividly recalled Marinette asking Juleka to take a picture of her first lesson to post online, then muttering about how glad she was that pictures didn't capture the sound of her awful playing.

He honestly didn't think she sounded that bad for her first time, but he might've been too focused on the song she played without need of a guitar.

——

Eventually, Luka arrived at the TV studio, trying not to smirk too wide at the guards who now had to let him in. The ride up the elevator felt long compared to what he expected, but he knew he was impatient when it came to Marinette.

Even if it was as simple as a guitar lesson, he loved spending time with her.

He entered the room slowly, a mix of positive and negative memories rushing back to him at the mere sight: the designs and music in their video getting stolen, getting mocked by Bob Roth and XY, Marinette being threatened, and finally getting the justice they deserved that let Kitty Section play on live TV.

In the center of all of it was Marinette, who he saw sat down on the stage they'd played while holding a guitar - his guitar - in her lap. It was technically something he let her borrow, but he also had no intention of asking for it back. After all, he had two black-and-white guitars, not one. Both had the same base, but the neck design was different for them. The one he gave to Marinette continued the black-and-white theme with a monochrome neck, whereas the guitar he used for himself had a wooden one.

Because there was so little difference between them, it made it easy to instruct Marinette on where her fingers should go, especially when he could either guide her hands or use himself as an example. She'd always appreciated the ease of it.

Seeing her cradling it like she was, despite already having it for so long, made him unreasonably happy.

"Hey, Marinette," he greeted.

She made eye contact with him, her shoulders relaxing as he approached. Taking one hand off the guitar to wave, she greeted him back with a smile.

He took his guitar case off, then sat down next to her and set it beside him. He turned away from her to undo the latch keeping the case shut, but her hand caught his arm before he could.

"Wait."

Glancing at her, he raised a brow. Her face seemed oddly serious all of a sudden, but he couldn't imagine why she wouldn't want him to take his guitar out.

"I, ah..." She pulled her hand back, fingertips rubbing against her thumb self-consciously. "I wanted you to listen to something before our lesson?"

He perked up. "You wrote something?"

It hadn't been his intention, but his enthusiasm alleviated her anxiety. She took a breath, sheepishly averting her gaze as she replied, "Um, sort of?"

He leaned towards her with intrigue, watching quietly as she checked, double-checked, and triple-checked the guitar to ensure it was properly tuned. He wouldn't have doubted if she'd also checked it before he arrived.

He was absolutely fascinated. Marinette had already had so many talents and hobbies that he thought she was just picking up guitar for the sake of it or as a tool to get her emotions out, but for her to go and actually write something?

He couldn't wait.

Once Marinette was ready, she closed her eyes and strummed a simply melody. It was a warm-up that Luka had taught her - only drawing him in further - but the moment she was done, the real song began.

It started out slow and even a bit bitter. While she didn't add any lyrics, Luka could feel the emotions in the song: loneliness and a lack of hope. It sounded strangely familiar to him, yet he couldn't place it.

Then, the song picked up, and the familiarity came with it. It didn't take Luka any time to catch it because he'd not just heard it, but played it himself. It wasn't a perfect recreation, but it was the song he'd played for Marinette when they first met.

She'd remembered it all this time.

It took one more change of tune, but that was when it clicked for him: she was playing them. She was playing all of their moments together and how they made her feel, from their slightly shaky beginning to his song for her and everything after that. He swallowed, already overwhelmed.

It all culminated when she got to the day they'd learned their music video had been stolen. He could hear the anger of the realization, the low subtlety as they snuck into the studio together, the fear when Bob Roth threatened her, the shock when he'd gotten akumatized to save her, and finally the tenderness when he'd confessed to her.

It took a lot to put one's feelings into music. It required a sense of vulnerability that Luka genuinely admired in a person: the ability to lay one's feelings bare to someone they trust. He almost wanted to ask Marinette to stop - seeing the visible strain on her face at everything she was trying to play right - but he couldn't bring himself to tarnish her efforts in any form.

Thus, he kept listening, almost forgetting to breathe in his awe of her.

There had always been something he could hear in the background of her song whenever he was with her, but he hadn't been sure of it. He thought he may've been fooling himself or was simply mishearing, yet now Marinette was playing it right in front of him as if to make sure he heard.

Love. She was playing not just their experiences together, but her feelings for him. She hadn't fallen as hard as he had when they met, meaning that those feelings started small and only grew over time. He hadn't noticed or at least tried not to, unwilling to be wrong despite his intuition so often being correct.

This was her way of confessing, her way of saying that she cherished their time together, that he was important to her, and that she was even sorry for taking as long as she did for it all to come together. Luka couldn't imagine a single thing that she needed to be sorry for, and certainly not when she was making him feel such a way. His heart was pounding like it wanted to escape his chest and he could barely sit still.

Eventually, the song came to an end, Marinette's face flushed red as she rested her arms on the guitar. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she explained shyly, "Y-you did it in words, so I thought... I thought I should do it in your language." Turning to him, eyes glistening with emotion, she added, "I know I'm still learning, but I couldn't wait! I wanted you to know, and if I waited too long, I was afraid you'd—mmphf—"

He kissed her. He'd never been the one to just act, but his guitar was still in his case and he needed her to know that he still reciprocated regardless of how much time had passed. He'd even scooted closer to be within distance to kiss her, and the guitar that she'd used to play such beautiful music was suddenly a nuisance, keeping him from showing his full affection.

Marinette, either reading his mind or being naturally in sync with him, used a hand to move it off her lap and to the side opposite of him. Legs free to move, she turned fully towards him and grabbed his jacket to pull him closer, Luka moving in response to cup her face with both hands.

He'd already been breathless from her performance, but he held the contact as long as he could, no other thought in his head beyond showing her that she was loved.

When they both pulled back, it was only a few inches away from each other. Luka simply had no intent to get any further away than necessary and Marinette still had a firm grip on him.

They made some attempts to speak, opening their mouths a few times to form words, but nothing came out. He thought that perhaps she'd seen him opening his mouth and stopped herself, but the timing was all off. They were both lost for words that they didn't need anyway.

A gentle yet insistent tug was all he needed to kiss her again, thoughts of inviting the rest of Kitty Section there having been abandoned long ago.

[liaromancewriter]

It Happened One Miami Night (3/?)

Series Premise: A work trip to Miami means finally accepting that some risks are worth taking. Or are they?

Fandom: Choices Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Words: 1,430

Series Masterlist

A/N: I live! Seriously, though, I've been really sick the last few days; today's the first day I've actually felt like writing. I also don't know where I'm going with this series except for this idea of filling in blanks for moments we didn't see. Pray that I figure it out before I start rambling.

Submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24; dialogue prompt "come on, it'll be fun"

She might have been invited (ordered, more like) under false pretenses, but that didn’t mean she was wasting this opportunity. Still in awe of hearing medical greats in person, Cassie Valentine put her hands together for the chorus of applause that followed Dr. Hadley’s fireside chat.

Ethan Ramsey, the epitome of medical excellence, was Cassie’s ultimate inspiration. Yet, Rebecca Hadley, with her profound knowledge and charisma, was a close second in Cassie’s admiration.

Cassie's eyes darted hopefully towards the front as the room began to clear. Her heart sank at seeing the long queue of Dr. Hadley’s admirers. Disappointment washed over her, but she was determined not to let this opportunity slip away. However, the organizers pulled Dr. Hadley away before she could step forward.

Cassie checked the event schedule on the conference app and figured she had enough time to grab some swag for Elijah before the next session. She still hadn’t heard from Ethan.

No! She wasn’t going to think about him. This time was for her.

Ethan was her attending, that’s it. No, he wasn’t Ethan. He was Dr. Ramsey. Cassie repeated this to herself, a mantra reminding her of her resolution to move on and break the spell he’d cast on her.

She thought this weekend was already proving challenging, recalling their conversation after the Nash debacle. They hadn’t even been to their suite yet or figured out how they were going to spend two nights in close quarters. Would he casually dismiss her from his presence then, too?

Shaking off the anxiety, she entered the exhibit hall and made a beeline for the first table. They gave out branded pens; they were nothing special, but her friend wasn’t picky. Besides, Elijah lost at least two pens daily and would use them all.

With her tote bag bulging, she was halfway down this row when she spied a booth handing out frisbees. She sped up, grabbing the last one as someone reached for it. Cassie turned sideways and found herself in a tug-of-war with another attendee.

“I was here first,” she tugged the plastic disk a little too forcefully.

“Debatable.” The man grinned charmingly before letting go. “But my mother raised a gentleman,” he glanced at her lanyard, “Cassie.”

“Thanks,” she stared at the name tag in her line of sight, “Evan. My compliments to your mother.”

“Wait till I tell her how her lessons on manners led me to my future wife.” The twinkle in his eyes told her he was joking.

“Wow, you’re easy,” Cassie quipped. “Beat a guy at the Swag Olympics, and his true intentions come out.”

His lips twisted in a half smile, and he eyed her tote. “First conference?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Evan laughed. “First-timers always grab too much stuff. Then, you realize you can’t possibly take it home in your carry-on and start throwing out perfectly good swag.”

That made her pause. The space in her luggage was indeed limited. Still, she promised Elijah goodies, and she would deliver them.

“It’ll be okay,” she shrugged, unconcerned.

“I heard Panacea’s giving out briefcases,” Evan said, stepping closer, just at the edge of her personal space. “I was just heading there.”

Cassie caught the unspoken invitation in his voice and the interested look in his eyes as he peered intently at her. She started to decline, not wanting another run-in with Declan Nash, when their phones pinged.

“Oh wow, I don’t believe it,” Evan exclaimed, staring at his phone. “They just added Dr. Ramsey to a panel. It starts in twenty minutes.”

He glanced at her over his phone’s screen, his eyes filled with eager excitement. “He’s amazing. Man, what I’d do to work with him. I tried matching at Edenbrook last year, but their residency is super competitive.”

“I know,” Cassie said quietly, but Evan didn’t hear her as he continued talking.

“…got into Grady, so not a total loss. How about you?”

“Edenbrook. First year, internal medicine.”

Evan’s eyes widened. “Have you met Ramsey, then? What’s he like? Are rounds with him a masterclass in diagnostic excellence?”

Cassie wasn’t sure how to respond. Was she supposed to tell a stranger that she had not only met Ethan but fallen hard for him? That when he focused those laser blue eyes on her, she melted, heat pooling in her belly, fingers itching to touch him everywhere?

Ethan was a complicated man who hid his emotions behind an austere exterior. But when he let his guard down and let her in, she fell through a rabbit hole, knowing her life would never be the same again.

“Rounds with him are intense,” was all Cassie said, keeping her expression neutral.

Ten minutes later, she reluctantly followed Evan into the ballroom where Ethan’s session was taking place. Despite the last-minute announcement, the room was almost full, with just a few empty seats scattered around the room.

“See? I told you the room would be packed early,” he said, scanning the space.

They shoehorned their way to the center of the room, hopping over bags and feet to park themselves on two chairs in a row of theater seating. Cassie almost tripped over the ankles of a woman who wasn’t keen to let them pass, but Evan helped keep her upright.

Cassie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Ethan’s tall figure standing off to the side of the raised dais. He must’ve gone to the suite, for he was now wearing a blazer over the black shirt and gray slacks from this morning.

He hadn’t noticed her, and she doubted he would, given the size of the crowd. Still, she slumped slightly in her seat, practically hiding behind the person seated in the row before her.

“What are you doing tonight?”

She turned to face Evan, her brow raised in confusion.

“A few of us are getting together later,” he explained hurriedly. “It’s nothing fancy—cheap booze, music, dancing on the beach.”

“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “I’m here with my attending. He might need me for work.”

“All night?” Evan asked skeptically. “He doesn’t seriously expect you to be on call all weekend? Give the old man the slip and join us.”

When she still looked doubtful, he insisted, “Come on, it’ll be fun. Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”

Cassie scoffed. “What makes you think you’ve earned my number?”

“My eternal optimism?”

“Nice try,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m on the conference app. Ping me the deets there. No promises.”

The emcee called the room to attention, and the commotion around them died down, replaced by excited anticipation. He introduced the session topic and speakers, reading a brief bio for each panelist.

Despite her earlier intention, Cassie straightened in her seat, unable to look away as Ethan joined his fellow panelists on the stage. As soon as the applause subsided, the moderator smoothly jumped into the discussion, throwing Ethan the first question.

Sprawled in a deep armchair, he held the microphone close to his lips, punctuating his point with a wave of his hand. He spoke eloquently, captivating everyone in the audience and the panel.

Cassie envied his effortless confidence and hoped that one day, she would be as secure in her abilities as a doctor.

She noticed how relaxed Ethan was now compared to earlier. He was in his element now, and it showed. Unlike the uncertainty of the situation with Naveen, sharing his opinions on managing medical resources during large-scale emergencies was easy.

Evan tried to engage her in conversation, leaning too close for comfort, but she ignored him beyond a quick nod. She hadn’t reflected on this topic before but found the discussion and subject area fascinating.

Cassie thought she knew Ethan’s career well, being his biggest fan and all. But she had no idea he’d volunteered in disaster zones during his residency and fellowship. Was there anything the man hadn’t done in the ten short years since he became a doctor?

And was he just as good in bed as he appeared out of it? The naughty voice broke through her thoughts, making her blush.

Cassie surreptitiously scanned faces around her to make sure no one had noticed her face turning red (or the way her skin flushed from the neck down as her breath hitched). It was damn inconvenient.

Listening to Ethan being, well, Ethan, was clearly turning her on.

So much for her resolution. All Ethan had to do was talk passionately about medicine, and she was ready to kiss his breath away.

The weekend just got a whole lot more complicated.

-------------

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso

@mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16

@justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate