#bc why the person who cleans my teeth was resting her arms on my hair while she did it?????

[adamantine-ribbon]

oh yeah also: a Black person's hair is part of their personal space bubble no matter how big it is. don't touch it, it's just as weird as doing it to Becky

[leossmoonn]

One Day at A Time

masterlist

pairing - lip gallagher x fem!reader

type - angst, fluff

note / request - “Hi, I love your Shameless imagines! And I was wondering if you could write something for Lip Gallagher x Reader having a baby and struggling with their new life ❤️” alright so i named the baby fred bc thats lip’s baby’s name already lol also you and lip live in the house that lip wanted to buy for tammy. enjoy!

summary - you and lip struggle to raise a baby and survive 

warning / includes - language, fighting, alcohol, smoking, but fluffy ending

————

*gif isn’t mine*

“Lip!” You shouted. 

Your boyfriend ran into the room frantically. “What’s wrong?” 

“I need you to get me more baby wipes. Freddy took a big shit,” you instructed. 

Lip nodded, going to the table where you kept the baby wipes. He gave you the whole packet only for you to yell at him.

“Hand me them! I have to hold Freddy down so we doesn’t roll off,” you said.

“Sorry, Jesus,” Lip muttered, handing you baby wipes each time you put your hand out. 

You successfully cleaned your baby’s bottom and but on a new, fresh diaper. You picked Freddy and went downstairs with him. You set Freddy down in his high-chair, going over to the cabinet to get Freddy’s baby food. 

“Are you um, are you going into work today?” Lip asked.

“Yeah, are you?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I am,” Lip said. 

You frowned, turning around and putting a hand on your hip. “You can’t. Someone has to watch Freddy.”

“Debbie can watch Freddy,” Lip said. 

You scoffed, “She's never here. And before you say V and Kev, they’ve already helped us enough the past few months. They’re busy with their own kids.”

“Well, I need to go into work. We need the money,” Lip said. 

“Yeah, and I need to go to work or I’m gonna get fired!” You exclaimed. You began feeding Freddy, your mood lightening a little once you saw the little guy’s face. 

“What about working tomorrow? I thought that was our schedule,” Lip asked. 

“It was, but one, I’m well overdue on maternity leave and two, my boss doesn’t care about my personal life. She doesn’t care that we are struggling to raise a child,” you explained. 

Lip opened his mouth to suggest something, but nothing came out. He looked at you helplessly. 

“Here, why don’t you work for a few hours and I’ll watch Freddy in the morning, then you come back home at lunch and I’ll go and work for the afternoon,” you said. 

Lip nodded. “Yeah, that works.”

“Alright, good,” you said. You turned your attention back to the baby, feeding him the rest of his breakfast. Meanwhile, Lip went to shower and get ready to go to work. He came downstairs, coming over to bid you and Freddy goodbye. 

“I’ll see you later. I love you,” Lip said, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead. 

Even though you were mad at him earlier, you melted into his arms immediately. You hugged him back tightly, burying your head in the crook of his neck. 

“Hm, I love you, too,” you said, breathing in his scent. 

Lip couldn’t help but smile at your actions. He pulled away after a few moments, walking over to Freddy. 

“I love you, too, buddy,” Lip cooed, kissing Freddy on the cheek, making the baby giggle. 

You smiled at the scene, enjoying seeing Lip interact with Freddy. 

“Bye,” Lip called out before leaving. 

“Bye!” You exclaimed, watching him leave. 

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the fridge. You looked at Freddy, who was clapping his hands on his high-chair table. You laughed a little.

“You’re so silly,” you said, going over to him and picking him up. 

“Do you want to go to the store with me?” You talked to Freddy, bouncing him up and down while walking across the room. 

Freddy make a little squeak and you smiled. “Yeah, I know you want go to the store with me. I’m gonna shower and get ready, you stay in the crib, okay? I’ll be out in 10 minutes,” you said, going up to the nursery and setting Freddy down  gently. 

You went into the bathroom, taking a quick shower and brushing your teeth. You went back in your room and got dressed into a pair of mom jeans, a dark-purple, buttoned-up shirt and put a grey sweater over it, taking the collar of your shirt and folding it on the collar of your sweater. You then returned to Freddy’s room. You saw him on his back, sucking in his thumb. You smiled and picked him up, quietly going down the stairs. You set him in his high-chair again, getting your coat, purse, and your shoes. You also got Freddy’s little coat and hat to keep him warm in the cold winter of Chicago. 

You went out to your car, buckling Freddy into his carseat. You then went to the supermarket, putting Freddy in the front of the cart. You picked out fruit, vegetables, and salad mix. You got 2 gallons of milk, new coffee creamer, and cereal. You bought a few warm-up dinner packs and hamburger meat, going to the freezer isle and getting ice cream. You then went to the snack isle. 

“What should we get, Freddy?” You asked, looking at the pop tarts. 

Freddy pointed to the birthday cake-flavoured pop tarts. 

“Good choice, baby,” you smiled, grabbing the pop tarts. You then grabbed a few packs of chips and gum, going over to check out.

“Cute baby,” the girl at the register said. 

You looked up from putting the groceries on the table. You looked at her name tag and smiled. 

“Thank you, Stacy,” you said. “How old is he?” Stacy asked. 

“Almost 2 months,” you said. 

“Awe, so cute. I just found out I’m pregnant,” Stacy said. 

“Oh, really. Congrats,” you smiled. “Yeah, my boyfriend and I are happy,” Stacy smiled, putting her hand on her stomach. 

She rang your groceries up. “It’ll be $103.98.”

You nodded and took your card out and a few coupons you and Lip had collected in the past month. 

“Alright, with these coupons, your total is $80.56,” Stacey said.

“Great,” you smiled. You paid with your card, gathering the grocery bags. 

“Have a good day!” Stacy smiled. 

“Thank you, you too. Congrats again with the baby,” you gave her a kind smile. 

She thanked you as you walked out. You loaded the groceries into the car and put Freddy back in his carseat. You then drove back home, putting away the groceries while Freddy watched you in his high-chair. 

“Are you tired, baby? I’m tired,” you yawned. Freddy yawned right after you, making you chuckle. 

“Why don’t you take a nap and let Mommy clean the house, okay? It’s a fucking mess,” you muttered the curse words, looking around the house. Clothes and toys were everywhere. Plates were stacked in the sink and on the coffee table. The house needed to be vacuumed and wiped down very badly

You put Freddy down in his crib, turning on the baby monitor. You changed into a tank top and shorts and put your hair in a ponytail, going back downstairs to clean. 

You started with the dishes, washing and drying them off, putting them back in their cupboards. You then wiped down the kitchen counter, stove top, kitchen table, and coffee table. Next you decided to clean up all of the baby stuff that was on the floor. You put Freddy’s toys in the play bins you and Lip had bought and put Freddy’s clothes in the washing machine. You then vacuumed the living room carpet and swept the kitchen tiles, making yourself another cup of coffee. You were done in an hour and a half, taking a look at your work, smiling in satisfaction. Your house hadn’t been this clean since you and Lip had bought it. 

It was lunch time and you knew Lip would be coming home soon. You decided to make you and him lunch. You made chilli and salad, knowing that it would last you two for a few days. You changed back into your work uniform before grabbing yourself a bowl and sitting down, eating your lunch quickly before you had to go to work. 

15 minutes later, Lip had walked through the door. You got up to greet him. 

“Hey, babe. This smells good, what did you make?” Lip asked.  “Chilli and salad for lunch. You can have some,” you said. 

“Ah, nice,” Lip said. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, going over to the kitchen.  You frowned. He usually wasn’t this detached.

“How was work?” You asked. 

“Good,” Lip said, grabbing himself a bowl of chilli. “How was your day?”

“Good,” you said. “ I um… I cleaned the house and got groceries.”

“Oh, nice,” Lip said, sitting down. 

"Are you okay?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” Lip said. 

“Um, okay,” you said. “Well, Freddy is upstairs taking a nap. He’s been asleep for about two hours, so he will probably wake up soon. The baby monitor is here. When he wakes up can you give him a bath? He’s a little stinky.”

“Sure,” Lip nodded. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out why he was acting so off. 

“I gotta go to work. I'll see you later, okay?” You said. 

“Okay. Have fun,” Lip said.

You slammed the front door shut and walked to your car, letting out a long sigh. You wanted to ask why Lip was acting so distant, but you knew you had to go to work. You worked as a waitress at a local diner. You had been working there for the past 3 years. You hoped to be moving jobs to what you really wanted to do, which was cosmetics, but having a baby set you back a little. You were so thankful for Freddy, though, you didn’t regret having him one bit. It just sucked a lot. But you were good at your job. you were friendly to customers and co-workers, got the most tips, and never played around. You were your boss’s best waitress, despite you always having to change your shifts. 

You worked from 1 pm to 9, going back home tired, but happy you at least got a shift in. You drove home, looking forward to seeing Lip and Freddy, but once you got in the door, your excitement immediately diminished. 

Freddy was in his play pen and the person who was watching him wasn’t Lip. It was Carl. 

“Um, hey, Carl,” you frowned, setting your coat in the closet. 

Carl turned to you, a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, Y/n. How’re you?”

“Good, thanks. Where is Lip?” You asked, putting your hands on your hips. 

“He went out,” Carl answered. 

“To where?” You asked, your temper rising. “Um…. to the Alibi,” Carl said nervously. 

Your eyes blew wide. “What?! He went to the Alibi and left you to take care of our baby? No offense, Carl.”

“None taken,” Carl shrugged. 

“I…” you started to say. You put your fingers on your temples, rubbing in circles to try and ease the headache you were beginning to have. You were able to calm down a little. 

“Thank you for taking care of Freddy,” you said to Carl. 

“No problem. I love the little guy,” Carl smiled. 

You smiled back, grabbing your purse. “Here, let me pay you for watching him.”

“I would usually say yes to money, but I’ll say no this time. I like spending time with Freddy, he's my nephew, I like watching him,” Carl shrugged.

“Are you sure?” You asked, holding a 20 dollar bill. 

“Yeah, I am,” Carl smiled kindly. 

“Alright. Thank you. I’m going to find Lip. Do you mind staying until I come back?” You asked. 

“Nope. Can I have some of the chilli?” Carl asked. 

“Yeah, of course. Do you know how to change diapers and feed Freddy?” You asked. 

“Yeah, of course. I took care of Liam and Franny for Debbie sometimes,” Carl said. 

“Right, of course,” you chuckled. “Thanks, again. I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Carl waved. 

You didn’t bother grabbing your coat, rushing out of the house to find Lip. You drove to the Alibi, parking haphazardly. You went in, anger surging through you as you saw Lip smoking and drinking his liver and lungs out. He was talking with Kermit and Tommy. 

“Lip!” You screamed, the whole room turning going quiet. 

“Oh, hey, Y/n!” Kev smiled. 

“Hey, Kev. Can I see Lip for a second?” You asked, clenching your jaw. 

Lip looked at you, his eyes dropping. “Hey, baby.” He walked up to you, a stoned smile on his face. 

You grabbed his hand, yanking him out to the alley behind the Alibi. 

“What's up?” Lip asked.

“You! That’s what’s up!” You exclaimed. 

“What do you mean?” Lip asked. 

“You fucking left Freddy alone!” You shouted. “I left him with Carl. He’s fine,” Lip shrugged. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t call me to say you were going to leave Freddy!” 

Lip glared at you. “I don’t need to call you. He’s my son.”

“He’s my son, too! I’m his mother. I need to know who he is with! What if Carl brought over Kelly and they started having sex on the couch where Freddy could see, huh? I don’t fucking want that!” 

Lip chuckled. “They wouldn’t do that. Carl and Kelly are broken up or whatever.”

You groaned. “That’s not the point! I’m tired and super stressed out. You could have let me know!” 

“I’m tired and stressed out, too!” Lip exclaimed.

“Oh, yeah, I bet you are. Getting fucking drunk and stoned,” you laughed sourly. 

“I’m not drunk, I had 2 sips of beer, and I worked!” Lip exclaimed. 

“Yeah? Well I worked, too! I worked until 9 at night. I should be home by then! And I was the one who cleaned the house and did the dishes and got the groceries, which by the way, you are fucking welcome!” You shouted. 

“I never asked you to do that,” Lip said. 

“i know, but I did it because we needed it. All I wanted was a thank you!” “Well I was tired and hungry when I got home,” Lip shrugged. 

You glared at him, tears clouding your vision. “You’re so full of shit, Lip. So full of fucking shit!” You screamed, pushing him back. He stumbled backwards and hit the brick wall gently. 

“What the fuck, Y/n?!” Lip yelled. 

“Don’t do that! You don’t have the right to question me!” You screamed back. 

Lip opened his mouth to yell back, but Veronica and Kevin came out. 

“Hey, you two stop it!” Veronica yelled. 

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Kevin asked. 

“She is yelling at me!” Lip pointed to you. 

“Yeah, cause you’re a fucking asshole!” You screamed, your voice hoarse and tears running down your face. 

“Oh, no,” Veronica muttered. She went over to you, wrapping her arms around you gently. “Let’s go inside and get you some tea, okay?”

You started to sob, leaning in to Veronica. Lip looked at you, his heart breaking at the sight of you so upset.  

“Kev, you take Lip home and get him cleaned up, okay? Make sure Freddy is fed and changed and put to bed, too,” Veronica instructed. 

Kevin nodded, putting his arm around Lip and went to Lip’s car. Veronica walked you inside, taking you to the back of the bar. She got you a beer and a hot cup of tea, placing them in front of you. 

“T-Thanks,” you sniffled. 

“Talk to me, baby,” Veronica said, sitting down next to you. 

“Lip left Freddy home alone with Carl. I’ve been so busy and tired today. I cleaned the whole house, got the groceries. I worked for fucking 8 hours. I just wanted a little ‘thank you’ from Lip. That’s all I wanted,” you cried. “God, I’m such a fucking crybaby.”

Veronica put her hand on your arm comfortingly. “No, honey, you’re not. I understand, don’t worry, and Lip should, too. Maybe you should calm down a little and then go back home and talk to him. Really talk, no shouting and pushing.”

You took a big sip of your beer and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good plan.”

Veronica smiled. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, I’m fine,” you said. 

“You sure? We have some chocolate chip cookies,” Veronica smiled. 

“Hm, okay. I'll have a few,” you smiled. 

“Great!” Veronica squealed. She went away for a few moments, coming back with a container full of cookies. 

You sat and talked with Veronica for two hours. You soon were about to pass out and decided to drive you and Veronica home since Kevin had taken their car. 

“Thanks for the fun night, V,” you smiled at Veronica as you dropped her back to her house. 

“No problem! Drive home safe! Call if you need anything,” Veronica said. 

“Will do,” you said and drove back home, which was thankfully only 5 minutes away. 

You got home, going in and seeing the living room empty. You took off your shoes, groaning in relief as your heels had been aching the whole day. You trudged up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard the shower going but didn’t bother to go and see Lip. 

You changed out of your work clothes and into a pair of shorts and a tank top. You put your hair in a messy bun, flinging yourself on your bed. 

Lip came into the room with Freddy a few moments later. You noticed his presence.

“What?” You snapped. 

“I just… do you want Freddy and I to lay down with you?” Lip asked. 

You looked to them, seeing Freddy smiling at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. “Sure.”

You scooted over, Lip setting Freddy down next to you and climbing into bed with you. You gave Freddy a big kiss. 

“Hi, baby. I’ve missed you,” you cooed. 

Freddy chortled, clapping his hands. You giggled with the baby, ignoring Lip until he spoke. 

“So uh… how was your day?” Lip asked nervously. 

“Fine. How was yours?” You asked, not looking at him. 

“Mine was uh… good,” Lip said. 

“Good,” you said shortly. 

There was an awkward silence between you two before Lip spoke again. 

“I wanted to apologise for my actions today,” Lip started to say. 

This was the first time you felt like looking at him. You stared in his blue eyes, waiting for his apology. 

“I’m sorry about ignoring the work you did around the house and I’m sorry for not letting you know I was having Carl take care of Freddy. And I’m sorry for going to the Alibi and getting stoned. I really appreciate you cleaning the house. It really needed to be cleaned and to keep it clean, I promise to try and not leave dishes out and pick up Freddy’s toys,” Lip said. 

You smiled at his apology, scooting up on the bed so you could put your forehead on his without crushing Freddy. 

“Thank you. And the house being messy isn’t totally your fault. I need to learn to clean up after myself more, too,” you said. 

Lip chuckled, “That’s something we can both work on then.”

“Totally,” you smiled. 

“I’m also sorry for yelling at you at the Alibi. I’ve just been so stressed with work and Freddy. I’ve never had to take care of a baby that was my own before. I’ve always had help from Fiona and Ian,” Lip said. 

You put your hand on his cheek. “I know, baby. This is all new for me, too. And I’m sorry for yelling at you, too, you didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright. I kinda did,” Lip chuckled. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile “Well anyways, we’ll get through this together, okay? I love you. So, so, so much. And I love Freddy, probably a little too much,” you joked. “Let’s just take this one day at a time okay?”

Lip nodded and pressed his lips against yours softly. You kissed him back before pulling away, making sure Freddy was okay. 

Lip smiled. “I love you, too, you know.”

You looked back up to Lip with a big smile. “Yeah, I know.”

————

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[kuroos-moon]

Captains and Strong Independent S/o’s

☁︎︎ request:  Oikawa, Kuroo and either Bokuto or Ushijima (I cant choose!) reacting to a (fem or g/n) reader who does some type of martial art and they’re kinda tough/strong and (maybe they’re the team manager and they don’t take no shit) and the captains kinda crush on them for it? (I like to imagine Oikawa having a tough gf who stops Iwa from being mean to him and jokingly threatens Iwa that if he wants to hurt Tohru he has to go through her

☁︎︎ pairing: oikawa x reader, kuroo x reader, ushijima x reader

☁︎︎ warning/s: swearing, felt a bit of angst while writing for ushijima’s idk why tho it might just be my imagination :> 

☁︎︎ a/n: also dont know if it’s obvious but i kinda got carried away with ushijima’s 

Oikawa Tohru

• is a smug little shit every time you’re with him or in the same room at least 

• like,, he could piss Iwa-chan off to death and he won’t get hurt for it? now this is what he calls power

�� sincerely loves and adores you, but at first, he kinda got sad that you’re so self-sufficient, you practically don’t need him 

• but he’s now long accepted that you’re just so you… and in your relationship, it’s you who does the protecting and looking out by a whole lot (ofc it doesn’t mean he loves you less) 

• that’s why he gets so so soft when he gets his turn in being the person who’s leaned on

• as their manager, he loves how you get things done so effectively, even Kyotani bows down to you, as he should—he always says in his head, smiling as he looks at the feral boy getting flustered around you  

• he listens to you all the time and we all know Tohru backing down is so rare 

“Oy, you’re overdoing it, let’s go.” 

“Head home without me, Iwa-chan,” he mutters mindlessly as he screws up another serve, a scowl on his face as he bends down to get another ball; but he freezes at an instant upon Iwaizumi’s words—no, Iwaizumi’s threat.

“Suit yourself, I’ll call y/n.” 

Oikawa has never changed stance so quickly in his life, cleaning up the gym as he sends smiles to his best friend’s way every five seconds, hoping he won’t tell on him on his cute but scary girl who could easily kick him unconscious. 

• he uses your name to threaten anyone who wants to cross him and they will back down immediately

• also likes to show off because he knows you treasure him so much; he likes to be babied by you especially in front of others 

“y/n-chan c’mere,” he softly says, whining a bit. The rest of his team look at the both of you in astonishment as you take the captain in your arms, Tohru’s cheek on your shoulder, looking back at the bewildered look on his teammate’s faces while you sit side by side on the bench. 

They could never get used to someone as tough as you having such the softest spot for Shittykawa… like how could you even stand him? 

“Really tired,” he mumbles, a small smile on his lips when you run your fingers through his hair. “I know, you were great as always, let’s head home so you could rest.” 

“Y/n-chan, today, Iwa-chan hit my head when you were out to get water. It really hurt,” he says, still in your embrace as he smirks at his teammates. 

Their mouths fall open, Iwaizumi’s eye twitching in irritation for his shitty best friend. 

“And Maki-chan…” Hanamaki grits his teeth, looking at him pleadingly in panic as his mind runs through everything he did today, wondering what he could’ve done to your beloved. “He ate my milk bread; I was really hungry.” 

Yup, Maki and Iwaizumi knew there was hell to pay, gulping in unison when you pull away from your boyfriend and narrow your eyes at them. 

“Iwa-chan. I thought we agreed you weren’t hitting Tohru again.” 

A chill runs down his spine, Tohru simply looks at you with pride, pulling you into his lap as he wraps his arms around your waist before you get the chance to throw hands at Iwaizumi.

Kuroo Tetsuro

• loves loves LOVES your remarks, your attitude, the way you take no crap from anyone, like “ah, he’s scared shitless, that’s my girl” 

• dw, you’re not a thug or anything, but men who force their feelings on you will see heaven’s gates early 

• and kuroo’s so pleased about it. sure, he’d love to get the chance to act all cool and brooding and possessive in front of other suitors but what’s more fun is watching their dejected faces as you say—

• “how many times do I have to turn you down? I have my tetsuro, now back the fuck off or I’ll break your nose.” 

• you had no idea he was just outside your classroom waiting for you, arms crossed and a cocky grin stretching his lips when you lock eyes with him

• “chibi-chan!” he calls off cheerily, and you bet he’ll tease you about it til death do you part 

• “don’t just stand there, give your tetsuro a hug!” 

• laughs about how your friendly banters with yamamoto always end up with you winning the argument 

• you rub off as mean bc you won’t take any disrespect, even a little—and that’s great

• those are one of the things he loves about you 

• but he’s always worried you might get hurt or hated for it, though he knows you are very much capable of beating anyone up even kuroo himself

• so he’s always holding you back, and I can’t stress this enough, but this man knows you could fend for yourself and he is so proud you’re his partner 

• he just wants to make certain that no one’ll hurt you, okay kitten? 

• your conversations often go like this: 

“I’ll beat up whoever tries to lay a hand on me.” 

“don’t say such reckless things, you’re not superman.”

“uhuh, geez, I’ll be fine, I don’t need you to walk me home.” 

“well news flash, your tetsuro, needs his y/n to walk him ho—ow,” he mutters when you slap his chest. 

“go home with kenma.”

“I don’t want kenma,” he scowls, already irked that this is turning into an argument.

“too bad,” you deadpan.  

“ugh,” he groans, “imagine a girlfriend who actually listens to you, just imagine.” 

• he is the one and only person you’ll gladly accept lectures from, bc his lectures are always reasonable and for your own good

after checking and verifying that you were completely okay, you knew he was about to go down to business. 

“you got into a fight? What are you? a thug?” he crosses his arms. You were both inside the gym along with the rest of his teammates who looked like they were far too preoccupied to listen. They were all clearly listening in though, except Kenma of course.  

watching your figures from a few feet away, it was obvious that he was scolding you, and Lev already had a ridiculous visualization of you hitting Kuroo. Everyone was worried you’ll fight him, or maybe even hit him, well, everyone except Kenma, of course. 

The setter knew that you would never ever lay a hand on kuroo as if the 6’1 captain was fragile. He also knew that you loved and respected kuroo too much to actually get agitated just because he was scolding you, you aren’t an unreasonable person. Lastly, he knew that kuroo would be going soft on you in five minutes tops, his best friend is hopeless like that. 

Kenma was right, he always is. Your back is glued to the wall behind you, Kuroo’s hand beside your head, his face extremely close to yours that you’re left flustered which is rare. 

After you were rambling on about how you had to put that girl in her place, going off about how it made you so mad and he should cut you some slack, he knew just how to shut you up. And it worked. You’re speechless. 

“what was that again, hm? go on, you surely had a lot to say,” he mutters, acting all tough as if he wasn’t dying to just kiss you now. when you don’t respond and stare at him and his lips instead, he already gives in. yes, just like that. “you were wrong to do that, okay?” he breathes, the worry from earlier on making its way out through his voice. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

Locking lips with you, you pull him closer to yourself, and kuroo had purposely decided to kabedon you on this wall since his broad back would be shielding the two of you from his teammates’ line of sight. 

After pulling away, he pats your head, licking his lips. “I forgive you, I’m not mad anymore.” You look away in embarrassment, realizing how petty you must’ve seemed to him. He sighs before hugging you, chin atop your head. 

“Make this the last time, okay? I swear you’re shortening my lifespan having me worried all the time.” 

You hug him tighter as a response, kuroo letting out a breath of contentment. Regardless of how tough you are outside; you are and always will be his soft little kitten and it was his greatest honor that you allow him to take care of you like this. 

Ushijima Wakatoshi

• is probably a little too used to the idea of his most treasured girlfriend being extremely capable and self-sufficient 

• his teammates would always look at him like ‘why are you not stepping in,’ every time you’re in a tough spot i.e. having an argument with someone or having a too-touchy suitor 

• then they’d be like “oh, that’s why,” after you flung the despicable creature out to space 

• he thinks so highly of you, not only are you physically strong, you’re even tougher on the inside too

• this is kinda a given but I’ll say it anyway—he can be unintentionally insensitive (well your relationship is kinda new)

• example no 1: 

you were arguing with goshiki and while he would normally like to ignore you and let you have your way; he was getting annoyed bc the argument was far too petty. 

“I’m gonna surpass him!” 

“and I’m telling you that you ca-

your mouth is clamped with a big hand, and it took you only a second to realize it was Wakatoshi because only he would have the nerve to lay a hand on you like this. he still doesn’t say anything, dragging you with him in an empty hallway for privacy.

finally after you stopped walking, he turns to you and looks at you expectantly. “what was that for? Did you even wash your hand,” you mutter, slightly annoyed. 

“I haven’t touched the ball yet, don’t worry,” he lowly says, making you sulk because he totally missed your point. “still, you didn’t have to make me shut up by clamping your hand against my mouth.” He’s too… not gentle with you sometimes. 

“you were going to say something you shouldn’t to goshiki.”

“he said something he shouldn’t have.” 

he only narrows his eyes at you and you do the same, anyone from your class would’ve been scared at the sight. You were both known as the cutest yet intimidatingly scary couple. 

• you were in the early stages of dating and though you understood each other well, it wasn’t really enough yet

• it’s all good though, because once you tell him that he was too uncaring of you and your feelings he does something that no other man would do: 

• apologize, admit his mistake, reflect on it a lot and,,, actually change!! 

• he’s much softer to you after that, and he finally realizes that you were still his precious girl and you were sensitive when it came to him 

• cursed himself for being too reliant on how you never seemed sensitive or needy

• doesn’t dwell too much on regret, just treats you 100x times better 

• is fascinated with your passion for martial arts but is against you overdoing training

• one time, he was torn between dragging you out of practice or just turning a blind eye to your visible exhaustion since you’re always so tough anyway, you’ll manage 

• but then he remembers his promise to himself to never treat you like you aren’t the most special person to him so he excuses himself from practice and heads to your training room 

you sat alone, your back to the wall. everyone else has gone home but you stayed because your muscles were too sore and you felt like you couldn’t even walk for another day. maybe it had something to do with how you’ve been training too much. 

you’re startled upon seeing shoes on the floor you blankly stared at, looking up to meet eyes with Ushijima. “Wakatoshi,” you say in surprise. 

he is expressionless as he bends down across you between your legs, and you had to admit this was something you weren’t used to from him. “are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft as velvet. you’re taken aback by his question, looking away in embarrassment. 

Wakatoshi rarely asks you that, and most of the time it was only when you said the word ‘ow’ when you accidentally hit something. you clear your throat, bringing your hands together to play with your fingers, “I’m okay.” 

it was silent for a few seconds before you hear him sigh, not only that, warm, gentle hands had found its way to yours and you look at him, bewildered. “is this okay?” he asks, looking down at both your hands and you nod. “your hands are much smaller, compared to mine at least.” he says, but you’re too flustered to even understand that. 

“are other things okay too?” he asks, and like his former statement, you didn’t understand. your silence doesn’t stop him though, he decided to push his luck. tugged gently by your wrist, your back’s no longer pressed to the wall as ushijima wakatoshi pulls you in his arms for the first time in your very few months of dating. 

“wakatoshi,” you mumble, your heart racing so much you’re sure he feels it against his chest. he’s so warm, welcoming, and in his loving hold felt like the rightest place to be. “you’re not feeling okay.”

you don’t respond, opting to bury your face at the crook of his neck instead. “I’m here, I know you’re tired.” 

you both stay in that position for a long time, it was addicting to be cradled in his arms and he felt the same. “y/n,” he whispers, and you hum in response. 

“you’re strong. very strong. you don’t need a man at all.”

your heart skips a beat, “toshi are you breaking up with me?” 

you hear a soft chuckle ring in your ears, “let me finish. as I said, you’re very strong. you look like you’re always so tough. but you’re not, and so…” he trails off, so you pull away to look at him, hesitance evident in his eyes, his palm still pressed at the small of your back. 

“you’re not always strong. in fact if I dare say, you are fragile, and I care about you. so please, allow me to be there for you all the time, I’ll be here, just like now.” 

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle   @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ultzuko @yappychan @dipsydoo542 @devilgirlcrybabiey @dai-tsukki-desu​

[liamloveslarry]

The Boy Who Cried Wolf~

okay i’ve posted some snippets below and i’ve kept the general theme the story flows in so far, however it may not make sense as i’ve purposefully left some things out but i think u can get a general vibe from it hopefully, idk let me know what you think bc it’s been ages since i’ve picked this up and i would love to finish and post it soon!

tw for one use of derogatory language, violence, body horror/gore, swearing, experimentation, surgery & fictional medicines, mild nsfw, use of guns but at the beginning - these all sounds worse than they are, but it’s a werewolf fic so there had to be some element of ~horror.

The ground beneath Harry is hard and damp. 

He can feel the wetness soak through into his already sodden socks from where his shoes had come off in the brawl, and it reminds him of being young and spilling ice cubes on the floor, trying to hastily clean the water up with his foot and feeling the cold cling to his toes. 

He squeezes his fists together and bends his head between his knees, breathing deep. 

There’s a chill in the air and the frost nips at his nude body, causing goosebumps to flare in his skins wake so fast it stings as they burst through his flesh. 

His long hair acts as a barrier against the frigid air, but every time he rocks back, the metal bars stood tall behind him hiss against his skin and cause him to whimper and growl. 

He looks up and wraps his arms around his knees, shielding what little modesty he has left. 

He can see two guards standing either side of the cell, each holding firearms in their sturdy arms. Their fingers on the trigger ready to shoot if Harry so much as thought about doing something he shouldn’t. 

There’s another body to the right of him that looks in bad condition. He can smell it before he sees it. The person’s leg appears to be injured judging by the sluggish trail of blood that’s pumping into a puddle on the floor, and there are multiple cuts and grazes across their torso and face. 

Deep enough that Harry can see muscle and bone. Deep enough that Harry can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman.

If he focuses enough, he can hear them breathing. 

Or maybe that’s just himself.

Harry’s feet scuffle on the floor as he tries to get a closer look, but it causes one of the guard’s head to twist towards him and narrow his eyes, gripping his gun even tighter as he opens his big, fat mouth.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He growls.

Harry whips his head up and looks him in the eye. He retracts his arm slowly from where he was reaching out to touch the person’s pulse point and places it on the floor.

The guards face is pinched and sweaty, as if he’d be afraid of Harry if there wasn’t a thick barrier of metal between them. He can hear the hitch in his breath when does so much as blink, confirming the theory further that he’s more afraid of Harry than Harry is of him.

“What am I doing here?” His voice his shot and gruff, a reminder of just two hours previous when he’d been snarling and shouting, trying to tear chunks of flesh from their bodies out of fear while they’d held him down and stunned him into submissive shock.

He doesn’t remember much after being shoved into the back of a truck and led to where he assumes, he is now, cooped up in a dingy cell with a half rotting body and two wankers as company.

The guard punches out a laugh, the tip of the gun clanging against the metal as his body jerks forward. It causes Harry to wince as the sharp sound penetrates his ear drums.

“For a dog I thought you’d be smarter. But it looks like you’re just another dumb bitch.”

Harry’s fingers catch against the grain of the floor as the tip of his claw protrudes and causes the concrete to shift and crumble beneath him. He can’t help the rumble in his chest while the thought to bare his teeth becomes more prominent each second the guard smirks and cocks his gun mockingly at Harry’s head. 

“Calm down puppy, it’s not even a full moon yet so I dunno why you’re gettin’ all hyped up.” 

Harry doesn’t feel himself move but he can see the guard’s eyes sweep across his form, right from the tips of his toes to his hairline as he clenches his gun tighter, which means he now must be standing. 

He knows better than to step forward, knowing he’ll probably get shot if he dares so much as inch his pinky out. 

He can feel his bones shift and his muscles twinge, and there’s a deep throbbing coming from his thigh which he only notices now. As he casts his eyes down, he can see it’s torn and open. There must be something slowing the healing as usually something like that would’ve closed up by now.

“Tell me why I’m here.”

The guard cocks his eyebrow.

“No.”

Harry’s hands clasp into fists and he takes a deep breath.

“Tell me why I’m here.”

He can see the guard smirking, albeit if he narrows his eyes slightly, he can still see his pulse jumping under his skin as if trying to scramble from his body. He shifts his hip slightly to take the weight off his injured leg, causing his cock to slap against his thigh.

The guard’s eyes drift down and this time it’s Harry’s turn to smirk.

“What’s the matter? Never seen one this big before?”

The guards face turns red and he splutters, his pig face scrunching up as if he’d sucked on a sour lemon and he scrambles to point his gun through the bars and at Harry.

“Shut the fuck up you fucking dog! I swear to god I’ll blow your fucking brains out you mutt, you utter cu- “

“That’s enough.”

They both whip their head towards the second guard as his hand inches out and places it on the other guard’s gun, pushing it down slowly.

“You!”, he says, eyes piercing into the other man and gritting his teeth, “need to shut your fucking gob and stop riling Lassie up; and you!”, he turns and sweeps his gaze over Harry’s form, boots coming to rest against the edge of the metal, “need to stop asking so many sodding questions and shut up.”

Harry blinks down at his wet socks and frowns.

“Can I at least have some clothes?”

The second guards gaze lingers on his abdomen.

“No,” he smirks, eyes trailing upwards and resting on Harry’s face, “I’m rather enjoying the view.”

Harry growls out “fucking pervert” and doesn’t think twice before moves his foot forward, which causes the first guard to panic and fire his gun. 

The bullet doesn’t pierce his skin, but it’s made of something hard and it smacks full force him in the chest, instantly knocking him backwards and winding him.

He can see both of the guards arguing and waving their arms at each other, but his hearing has gone woofy so he can’t understand what they’re saying. 

The room is starting to spin and the pain in his thigh and upper chest are getting worse, causing Harry to sway on the spot and collapse onto his knees.

The last thing he remembers is the sound of an alarm before his vision blurs and turns to black.

~

It was dark by the time he’d left the office, nodding and waving at the receptionist who was sat in the tiny booth on his way out. It had also been raining, which Harry realises now he probably should’ve driven in, but the morning had been so frosty and clear with dew drops settling on autumn leaves, that he couldn’t help but walk through the winding paths and bramble bushes to get to work. Even if it did take him thirty minutes.

He remembers pulling his hood up and walking down the road until he reached a narrow ginnel that acted as a bridge between the small town and his house.

It had been here he’d been attacked.

At first, he thought it was just somebody mugging him and he knew it wasn’t best placed to chomp his way out of it, it wouldn’t look too good if a local hooligan had been found with teeth marks imprinted onto his skin, so he’d done his best to ignore him, promptly shoving them off; only to realise there was two of them and one had what looked to be a gun.

Stunned, he’d tried to run but they’d pinned him down and cast a sickening blow to his stomach. It had caused Harry to go into sensory overload as he could smell the cheap cigarette smoke on their collars and their nasty breath wafting up his nostrils, causing him to heave and snarl. It was only a matter of time before his abilities kicked in and his claws and teeth had decided to make an appearance. He’d nicked of the men on his jaw and tried to bite his neck, but the other man held an electric rod against his ribs and shocked him.

~

She’s fair skinned and has light brown hair that’s held up in a ponytail. She doesn’t say much as she checks the stats on the monitor screen, but Harry does his best to smile whenever she looks over at him.

“Hey. What’s your name?”

She startles and nearly drops her clipboard, grasping it at the last second before it falls to the floor. She looks at him wide eyed and says nothing.

“I’m not going to do anything, I promise”. He grins and wiggles his fingers slightly in the straps. “Not like I can do anything, anyway.”

She stares at him for a beat longer and lowers her head.

“Mary.” She mumbles, fiddling with the pen and twisting it in her fingers.

Harry smiles again and tries to get her to look up.

“Mary. That’s a nice name. My name’s Harry, but I’m guessing you already know that.”

She blushes and looks away, busying herself with the buttons on the monitor and biting her bottom lip. 

She’s nervous, Harry can sense it. But if he wants to get out of here semi-unscathed, he needs to play nice with those who so far, haven’t been very nice to him. She seems kind enough anyway, judging by the fact that she wasn’t poking any fingers into his wounds or prodding at his teeth.

“I know you probably can’t say much, and I understand that; I really do, but.” He sighs and looks down. “Please can you tell me where I am?”

She continues to ignore him, taking out a needle and flicking the cap. She pumps it a few times and Harry watches as the liquid inside begins to bubble up.

She goes to inject the tip into his thigh but he catches her wrist just as she was about to press in, claws forming a shield around her delicate bone.

She looks up at him wide eyed, her breathing heavy and scared.

“Mary, please. Please tell me where I am. I won’t let go until you say something.” He can feel her small hand trembling but he isn’t going to give up without a fight.

Her fingers squeeze tighter around the needle and she tries to force the tip into his skin, but his hold is stronger and she lets out a gasp.

“Please stop, you’re hurting me.” 

“I’m sorry, I will, I promise. But not until after you tell me where I am.”

Her fingers seem to seize and stop, dropping the instrument onto the bed and her quiet, shaking voice splits the silence open like a knife cutting through paper.

~

He can smell the winter air and the frost settles in his bones, calming him instantly. He’s also very aware that he’s still in a gown and participating in a full moon event of his own. 

He’s about to step over the threshold when a hand tugs him back.

Harry turns around, and he sees Mary for the kid she is. Barely an adult and shivering in the cold.

Her nose has turned red already.

~

He lets out a ragged sob and pounds his fist against the floor. He tries to move his leg and bend his arms to press against the solid ground so he can at least heave himself up when he notices a beaming light coming towards him. He turns his head and sees through tears, rain and the dirt prickling his eyelids, the headlights of a car that’s heading his way.

The car eventually slows down to a stop in front of him, but he can’t see much through the business of the windscreen wipers and the headlights shining in his eyes. He must look a right state right now, and he’s shocked the car even stopped for him. 

If it was him, he would’ve kept on driving. 

There’s a click and the engine turns off. The lights stay on, albeit they’re dimmed a touch. 

The car door opens from the driver’s side and a man dressed in a parka and joggers hesitantly makes his way around the front of the car.

There’s silence for a few moments until the man opens his mouth.

~

Harry doesn’t know how long they drive for. He’s content to just let the sound of the quiet radio wash over him while he huddles into the blanket more, directing his toes underneath the heater. He appreciates that Louis probably has a multitude of questions he’s dying to ask, but instead he keeps his mouth shut, humming along to the radio every now and then.

They drive through the tiny town of Barnstable and the car jostles as they drive over cobbled streets and the sporadic pothole. The occasional light flickers from the shore to the right of them, but other than that the streets are as dark and as quiet as the night sky.

They tumble upwards towards a hill and Louis leads them through winding roads and sharp bends. On a particularly keen one, the car lingers to one side and Harry’s thigh moves with the turn, bashing slightly against the inside of the car door.

He winces and Louis catches it, sending a look of sympathy his way.

“Sorry, mate. Won’t be long now – another couple of minutes.” He nods down at Harry’s leg which has started to seep blood through the material. “We’ll get that patched up straight away, just try and keep some pressure on it for now.”

Harry takes a deep breath and nods, wrapping a part of the blanket around his fist and pressing it harder against the wound.

~

He grabs some shampoo from the holder that’s stuck to the wall and squirts a generous amount into his palm, rubbing his hands together and lathering it through the strands. He does the same with the shower gel and starts to wash his body as he thinks.

What he remembers from the night feels fragmented and broken, tail ends of memories flashing before they disappear. He sighs and dips his head backwards underneath the water and washes the shampoo out. 

Whatever they shot him with must’ve delayed or hindered his healing abilities as usually anything superficial or worse, only takes around an hour to heal. Granted he’s never been shot before, it should’ve only taken a little longer before it had fully closed up, instead it had gotten worse the longer the bullet had been trapped inside his leg, rooted underneath muscle and skin.

He looks down and feels as well as sees, his skin starting to knit back together. Bits of flesh fusing as one around the stitches like solder to an iron. He doesn’t know what he’ll say to Louis in terms of there no longer being a wound or a scar left in its wake, but he figures he probably doesn’t need to be semi-nude around him again, so he decides not to say anything.

He scrubs the last remnants of dirt from his body and turns to switch the shower off, taking his time to grab the towel left for him on the radiator and wrapping it around his waist. 

He pads over to the mirror and looks at his reflection.

His eyes are slightly bloodshot and his cheekbones look hallow. His long hair is dripping lukewarm water down his chest and onto the floor, but he can’t find the energy in him to do something about it.

~

He spins towards Harry, blue eyes tired and sleepy, with a soft smile etched onto his face. He lifts his arm to ruffle the back of his hair and his arm muscle expands slightly, filling out the sleeve of his hoodie. It makes Harry swallow, a quiet click due to his dry throat echoing through the room.

“You’ll be okay in here, right?” Louis asks. “You know where the bathroom is and there’s some spare toothbrushes in the drawer, feel free to get up when you want and have another shower and stu- oh!” Louis pauses and places his hand into his hoodie pocket, pulling a small box out. “There’s some paracetamol here in case you need them in the middle of the night for your leg – pretty sure there’s a spare glass in the bathroom too, just in case you didn’t wanna stick your head under the tap.” He places the box down onto the bedside table and throws a smile Harry’s way.

Harry won’t need them but he nods and smiles anyway, yawning out a thank you. He forgets momentarily that Louis is still in the room when he starts taking the hoodie off, and only remembers when a cough sounds out against the silence and he whips his head up.

~

Harry unclicks his seatbelt and goes to open the car door when Louis’ hand stops him. He turns back. 

Tired, green eyes meet concerned, blue ones.

“Just.” Louis pauses. “Just be careful out there, okay?” Harry stays silent while Louis’ fingers tighten around his arm. 

It doesn’t feel unsafe.

“When I found you, I thought you were dead. I haven’t asked you what happened because I assumed you’d tell me when you were ready. And you still don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He rushes to say, then pauses to stroke his thumb lightly over Harry’s arm, hair standing to attention and swaying under soft material and fingertips. “So just, be careful. Please.”

His eyes feel like they’re boring into Harry’s soul, each pupil filled with worry and pleading as if for Harry to promise him. Harry doesn’t know what to do, so he gently places his hand on top of Louis’ and smiles kindly.

“I promise. It was just a,” how does he word this “– a bad night. And hopefully it won’t happen again.” He figures he might have to verbalize what happened one day, but today is not that day. Where would he even start? ‘Thanks for saving my life and oh, by the way, I’m a werewolf?’

One headache is enough for now.

Louis looks at him for a second longer and breathes out, squeezing his arm one last time and dropping his hand back down, resting it on his thigh.

“I’ll call you.”

Harry nods and opens the car door, turning back one last time.

“Thank you, for everything.”

~

Making his way through to the living room, he flicks the light on and watches as dust bunnies flit about the air, as if to say welcome home. The machine to the right of him is flashing relentlessly, signifying there are messages waiting for him. He presses the voicemail button and listens as a robotic voice, followed by a woman’s, floats through the speaker.

Beep. Three new messages.

Beep. First Message.

“Hi, love. It’s only me. Just checking to make sure you’re alright? I know you said you had a busy week so wanted to catch up before the weekend.”

Beep. End of first message. 

Beep. Second message.

“Hi, Harry. Me again. Not sure if you got my first message and I know you’re probably having a minute to yourself after work, but just give me a call back when you get this.”

Beep. End of second message.

Beep. Third message.

“Harry, it’s me. It’s nearly 8 o’clock and I haven’t heard anything. I’m starting to worry, will you ring me back, please? I swear to god if something’s happe-yes! I’m ringing him again, he’s not answering, Har-”

Beep. End of third message.

No more messages.

~

If he listens carefully enough, he can hear the hedgehog’s tiny teeth tear through the slop, gurgling as he swallows. Small wheezes puff through his narrow nostrils when he pauses, the spikes on his back sparkling under the stars. Harry’s eyes adjust better than any humans could while his ears hone in on the sounds around him. Voles and mice race through the grass, snatching worms and bugs alike. Owls hoot in the distance while foxes rummage through bins, rubbish galore. He can even hear the moths fluttering their tiny wings as they quiver and vibrate through the dark.

The plate is nearly empty when he hears something snap. Even Bob pauses licking the ceramic to sniff the air; black, beady eyes darting right to left. He must think they’re in the clear when he starts moving again, nifty nose nudging through wet food. Harry continues to watch the garden when he hears another snap. 

This time it’s louder.

Claws replace fingernails and grip the step below him, twists of PVC twirling underneath sharp talons as they’re sliced from the ledge. 

Forgive him for he usually wouldn’t be this on edge, however getting oneself kidnapped and tortured has made even the scariest of monsters slightly fearful.

Though his eyesight is much like that of a hawk, he can’t see anything out of the ordinary. The bushes and leaves sway slowly in the breeze, every now and then a hoot echoes in the distance.

He stops breathing when he feels something brush against his ankle and his claws pierce the delicate skin of his palm; but he realises when he looks down that it’s just Bob nuzzling between his sock clad feet, trying to reach a meaty grub that’s getting away. He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his head. He shifts his feet so his three-legged friend can reach his dessert. He decides it’s enough for one night and reaches down to pick the plate up. He stands and casts his eyes around the garden one more time, settling on a tree branch that rests over the fence. He doesn’t know how long he stares at it until he feels the chill of the air whip against his face. Blinking out of his stupor, he shakes his head and lets out a small huff, breath casting white shapes into the cold air. 

“Bed,” he whispers, “just go to bed, Harry.”

~

It’s the middle of the night when he needs the toilet, bladder unrelenting as he shuffles sleepily out of the tent, torch in one hand as he makes his way over to a nearby tree. He’s resting his palm against the trunk when he hears a snap and a low moan coming from somewhere next to him. He tries to hurry his peeing as fast as he can, shaking himself off and guiding himself back into his shorts when something barges into him, slamming him down onto the forest floor.

His head knocks against the ground and he groans, mind going fuzzy. He can’t see for shit what’s on top of him but it’s dark and big and it’s groaning. Rumbling screams clutching at his bones. He tries to shake it off but it’s larger than Harry, at least seven foot and it drags him about like prey. He goes limp and cold, as if his mind is disconnected from his body. All he can remember is a white-hot flash of pain from where the thing had sunken its jaws into Harry’s side, teeth seizing around his rib cage and pulling, twisting, sinking. He remembers trying to scream but no sound escaped his lips. It was like he was watching from above. Watching as his body was tugged and heaved from left to right. Sharp claws scratched and hooked at his hip bones, making sure he couldn’t get away.

He could feel blood oozing out from where he’d been bitten and torn at, and the pain he felt was almost blinding. His fingers twitched at his side until they felt something smooth and hard. In a moment of sheer adrenaline, Harry had lifted what he assumed was a rock and slammed it down onto the thing’s head, once, twice, three times. Until its jaws had become loose and its teeth unclenched from around his bones. Blood spurted onto his face, lining his lips and staining his eyelashes. The thing went limp and sagged against Harry’s body, white eyes rolling back into its split skull as it shivered, seized and stopped.

He remembers pushing it off his body as best he could and trying to scramble away from it, bare feet and toes digging into the soft earth as he pushed himself backwards. He gulped when he hit the back of a tree and lay panting, hands shaking as they touched his side, feeling nothing but hollow bone and air. Looking down there was only red. Torn flesh and muscle protruding and dangling down as if no longer part of his body.

He remembers sobbing as he blinked through the tears and tried to get a good look at the figure lying dead in front of him. Holding both hands against where he’d been bitten and pulled apart like leftovers.

He remembers looking up at the sky above him, the moon big and bold as she stared back at him.

He remembers feeling like he was going to die.

~

A book is placed into Harry’s hands and he looks confused at the two men before Zayn just nods his head at the item, encouraging Harry to open it. 

“What is this?” He asks.

“Just read it.” Niall says, blinking at Harry.

It’s black and the corners are worn. It isn’t a big book either by any means, but it’s chunky and smells of old leather. Indented in gold on the front page are what look to be like nymphs and needles, wound tight around flesh as if both are becoming one. He turns to the first page and registers the thin, waxy paper.

~

Harry nods, doesn’t feel as though he can speak properly before stepping onto the train. His foot barely reaches the entry when his name is called behind him. He turns his head and sees Zayn walking up to him.

“I,” he coughs, looking around him a touch awkwardly, Niall turns away and bends down, pretending to busy himself with his shoelace. “Stay safe, yeah?” 

He pulls something out of his pocket and presses it into Harry’s hand. “Call us if you need us, anytime. I mean it.”

And with that he’s spinning around and walking up to Niall, clapping him on the back and nodding towards the exit. Harry tightens his fist around whatever Zayn had given him and ducks into the carriage, finding a seat near the far back and sitting down.

He rests his head against the cool glass and shuts his eyes.

Tries to keep his racing thoughts from becoming nightmares.

~

Page 37.

Sally.

ne.re.id. sea.nymph. mer.ma.id.

August 13th 1989. 15:07pm.

Found near the North coast of Portknockie in Scotland. Terrain is rocky and waves were at high speed. Out of plain sight to any passersby, however not so hidden she wouldn’t have been spotted by cliff dwellers. Water is salty meaning she has not swum from any freshwater rivers or lakes. Around 250cm in length, including the tail which has been jaggedly severed from fin upwards. The creature is unconscious but has a strong heartbeat. A mixture of morphine and hematide has been administered into the left arm of the creature and she remains stable. 

Despite her long frame, she has a petite torso and fine hair decorating her entire upper half. Subject has dark hair and green eyes. They seem to change to lilac under fluorescent lighting while her pupils dilate. She speaks in broken sentences, mostly garbled hums and high-pitched warbles.

Subject has webbed fingers and sharp nails. Subject also does not have a belly button nor any eyebrows.

Harry’s fingers freeze around the handle of his mug and he places it down onto the table shakily, taking another steady breath inwards. Outside the bin men are talking joyously as the disposal unit crunches in the distance while the neighbours next door are having yet another argument about who’s turn it is on the computer. But nothing registers, and Harry can only focus on the words standing stark against yellow stained paper below him.

~

September 7th 1989. 14:24pm.

Subject ‘Sally’ has been prepped for surgery. Subomunex was dispensed into the subject’s neck gills. We have found this to be most effective when operating on water-based creatures as it releases certain toxins and nutrients to ensure the subject can breathe without the need for H20.

Research into the common cold occurred almost one year ago, and we have found certain elements that make up a nereid’s larynx fight most, if not all symptoms of a ‘sore throat’. Today we shall create a medium incision into the subject’s neck muscle and remove the larynx, most commonly known as the voice box, from the subject’s throat. Delicate strands of tissue and muscle will be removed and sent to the Section B lab where it will be tested and if successful, dispensed into edible capsules and distributed among Pharmacies across the UK. 

A tiny proportion of the larynx’s genetic makeup will be extracted and re-created to ensure there is enough material for us to provide in the long term.

There’s a picture underneath the paragraph of what looks to be a theatre and Sally stretched out along a bed, four doctors are also in the photo, two standing either side of the creature and if Harry squints, he can see their smiles through their surgical masks.

~

“H-hello?”

There’s silence before the other person speaks.

“Uh…is this Harry?”

He doesn’t register the voice and his brows furrow in confusion, nose sniffling.

“Uh, yeah? Who’s this?”

“It’s um, Louis?” the voice replies, “I picked you up from the middle of the road, uh. About a week ago?”

God, has it really only been a week?

All of a sudden, his eyes widen in stark realisation and he clutches the phone tighter in the palm of his hand.

“Oh! God, I’m so sorry, hi. How are you?”

There’s a little huff of laughter and Harry imagines Louis’ eyes crinkling.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate. Are you? You sound a little…off.”

Harry leans against the living room wall and rolls his head sideways, “uh,” he glances at the book, “just a sad film, proper got to me, had a little cry as you do.”

~

“I should probably leave.” Harry says, and carefully dislodges Cliff’s head from his leg, placing it down gently onto the couch cushion beneath him. He doesn’t even move, just wiggles his back slightly and twitches his paw from where it’s resting in mid-air.

“If this is about you dribbling on me, I really don’t care. I’ve had worse things on me.”

Harry’s blush darkens, and he mumbles out, “it’s not about the dribble thing, I just think I should go.”

He stands up and makes his way into the hallway, vaguely aware Louis is talking to him, but the words are muffled against the heavy sound of Harry’s beating heart. He grabs one of his shoes and slips it on his foot, patting down his chest and pockets, trying to search for his keys while shielding his face so Louis doesn’t see how red his cheeks have become.

“-think you should just stay the night.”

Harry’s in the middle of slipping on his other shoe, when he braces his arm against the wall to stop him from tripping up, and turns to face Louis who’s piercing Harry with his gaze, despite the warm flush that’s expanding across his face.

“What?”

“I said, I think you should just stay the night.”

“I-,”

“I don’t mean, um,” Louis huffs a laugh, a telltale pink blooming on his cheeks, “in my room, or anything. I meant the spare room again, if you want?” He places his hands into his jean pockets and rocks back a little on his feet, “it’s just really frosty outside, and dark, so I’d feel pretty shitty if I let you drive back now.”

“Lou-“

“Sorry if it sounds like I’m being pushy, I don’t mind, really! It’s just,” he sighs, lips pursing and fingers reaching out to scratch at the chipped paint on the wall, “I’d just hate for something to happen, y’know, like last time,” he murmurs quietly, a sad sort of smile sweeps across his lips and he looks down, shrugging his shoulders.

You’d think what happened that night fucked him up a little too.

Maybe it did.

After all, he was the one who made sure Harry was alright and pulled a bullet from his leg, right over where Harry casts his eyes into the kitchen.

~

He groans and lifts his body to sit upright, leaning down and massaging his leg with his hand. 

He drops his head forward and sighs, insides feeling like they were going to jump out of his skin any second and run off the excess energy without him. He stands up and stretches, fingers pointing upwards towards the ceiling while his back cracked along his spine. 

It felt like a shift, bones and muscles repositioning under flesh, like tectonic plates moving and slotting into the different crevices of his body. But it wasn’t time, and Harry had learned to control the urge quite early on after he’d found himself naked in the local park after a midnight stint, bleary eyes opening to find ducks quacking nervously in the pond and a jogger staring at him with his mouth hanging open; probably wondering what he was doing lying there nude at four in the morning. He wasn’t too far from home that he couldn’t sprint back in time that nobody else noticed him, covering his delicate parts with his hands as he ran through the streets in the milky morning light. 

His clothes had been torn to shreds and he doesn’t remember much, not a great deal of evidence either from the night before other than the dirt that had gathered underneath his fingernails and twigs in his hair. He also felt different somehow, as if his body finally relaxed into itself and took one huge breath out.

~

Louis slides the door fully open then and steps into the room, toes sinking into the plush carpet beneath him. He isn’t wearing anything other than his boxers and Harry’s very aware he’s in just the same. 

“Can’t sleep?”

Harry shakes his head, fingers spreading out along the bed and clutching at the tight bottom sheet, trying hard not to think about how Louis’ shut the door behind him, not fully, but just enough to bathe the majority of the room in moonlight and heavy whispers.

“Me neither.” Louis huffs, lips morphing into a small smile and feet shuffling forward. “Feel like my body’s just pent up, y’know? Usually I’m out like a light.”

“Same.” Harry replies. “My brain won’t switch off so I’ve just been,” don’t tell him you’ve been snooping, “counting sheep.”

“And the bang?” Louis laughs.

“Oh! Uh, I just got up for some water and tripped into the bedside table.”

Harry doesn’t think about how it’s becoming easier and easier to lie.

“Do you need anything for it?” Louis asks, coming closer as if trying to inspect Harry’s foot. His toes scrunch inward under the careful scrutiny, as if they don’t want Louis to see how unblemished they really are.

There’re only a few feet between them now and Harry can feel the sleepy heat radiating from Louis’s body, can count the chest hairs that sit between his pecs and can smell the fabric conditioner of his bed sheets caught up in the hairs on his arms.

“No, I think I’m good.” He swallows, throat clicking and fingertips twitching beside him as if they’re aching to reach out and feel just how soft Louis’ skin is underneath quivering patterns of swirly flesh.

“Okay.” Louis whispers, eyelids blinking slowly, heavy with heady want, tongue inching out to lick his dry lips.

[yeehawfolk]

Hi! I think yr totally right about Felix's teeth probably not being great and how he and the rest of the crew should have more scars! Do u have any other lil appearance HCs for him/the whole gang? (:

OK! SO! I have a Lot of HCs about the crew, appearance-wise, anyway. Don't get me wrong, I love their canon designs, but I feel like they didn't utilize "Halcyon is fucked" enough with your companions? If that makes sense. I'm going to break this up character by character, so it'll be an easier read!

Also, I'm gonna put a TW on this for slight self harm on this?? It's not emotionally motivated at all, it's like when you'd compete to see who can get the gnarliest eraser burn in middle school, but nevertheless, I want to warn y'all ahead of time, it's on Ellie's part.

Parvati:

-Honestly, her eyes are gorgeous. They're brown, but an amber kind of brown, and very bright.

-I personally HC that Parvati chews her nails when she's nervous, so they're always nubs and usually pretty dirty, bc Mechanic and all.

-Her hands have faint scars from nicks and burns from working on machinery. The skin on her hands doesn't scar easily, but she still has a few gnarly scars from particularly bad burns or cuts that she wasn't able to take proper care of.

-Constantly has bruises of unknown origin on her arms and legs. She bruises very easy, and always has, which is kind of precarious when you're a mechanic.

-This might already be canon and I just haven't noticed bc I'm using the Switch version, but I HC Parv has some freckles sprinkled around her face. Not a lot by any means, but I HC she gets frequent sun when she's working on certain parts of the town, and freckles are a bi-product of that.

-She has a couple small scars on her face; one just below her eye on her cheek, and another on her chin. I like to think she fell on her chin, and the other was from her first project that blew up in her face, literally.

-Her skin is just a bit ashy because she hasn't had access to a lot of good lotions over the years.

-Despite taking a shower every morning, she accumulates grease smudges and dirt from her plants on herself very easily. She cleans up for her and Junlei's dates, but for casual visits both don't really bother. Sometimes they make a game of smudging each other with grease while they work and by the time they're finished their faces look like they were going for war paint.

-I like to think Parvati and Junlei eventually wear rings with each other (like, years down the line) and when Parvati gets deep in thought, she rests it against her lips. Junlei does something similar by turning her ring on her finger.

-Parv has ok teeth, not like great, but she takes pretty good care of them, even if sometimes she has to forgo it for a day or few while out with the Captain.

-When she's in Edgewater, she's always skinny, and if you squinted you probably could pick out a rib or so. But after she moves in with The Captain, she gains weight, and finally has the little pooch of fat that you're supposed to have around the middle. Ellie helps her keep up with nutritional needs (what you can get in Halcyon, anyway) and gets very proud when she makes her goals.

Felix:

-This boy has horrible teeth. His sweet tooth + being an orphan in the Back Bays didn't leave much time for proper teeth cleaning. He probably never really had enough bits to get toothpaste with, either.

-Oh, boy. He has scars galore. Some are from scuffles (he has some on his back from when he was a kid and used to get in trouble for stealing) but a lot are also from getting burned by pipes, or jagged metal. A fair few are from him doing dumbass things in his teenage years ("I wonder what would happen if I heat up these rounds of light ammo with a flamethrower??") because you can't tell me this boy didn't do dumb things like every teenage boy did but with more disasterous results bc SciFi.

-His nose has been broken quite a few times, so it's crooked in a couple spots.

-Can frequently be found with bloody knuckles just because he forgets that punching someone with a mask over their face really isn't the best idea. This eventually culminates into him making the "Millstone Drop-Kick!" his go-to move.

-This isn't exactly appearance related, but I HC Felix has a fucked back from his life of hauling heavy boxes. It doesn't help that he drop kicks literally everything that moves tho.

-Probably has chronic pain in his hands from his hands getting crushed by boxes at some point or another. Several of his fingers are crooked from being broken and improperly set. His bones probably aren't the best bc of poor nutrition growing up, either, so they're a little easier to break.

-Just. Me thinking about Felix in his 40s, or even early 30s: Honey, you have a big storm coming.

-This is also a little random, but I like to think that it takes a long time for Felix to grow any kind of facial hair (he has chronic babyface) so he's super proud of his scruff.

-Max: That's peach fuzz. If that.

-Felix: Leave me alone you big hairy bastard, just bc you have to shave like every other day to keep a clean face doesn't mean all men do!!

-(He's just a bit sensitive about his facial hair)

-(He one day dreams of growing a glorious beard like Sanjar's, but it would take him like 50 years)

-(Shut up Max one day he'll have an amazing handlebar mustache and you won't be laughing then)

-I have no idea if piercings or tattoos are a Thing in Halcyon (probs not, honestly, but I can dream) but if they are, he tried to pierce his ears by himself once, they got infected, and he got really sad when he had to let them close. The marks are still there but the holes have closed by now.

-ELLIE PIERCES HIS EAR AND HELPS HIM KEEP IT CLEAN

-Felix is strong, but he's skinny and gangly as all hell and it's hard as fuck to get him to gain any weight, mostly because he still has his habit of eating only what he needs and stashing the rest. It takes him a while with the crew to get over that, and when he does, he gains a healthy amount of weight around his middle. Ellie teases him a bit, but is 1,000x happier that he's no longer damn near a walking skeleton.

-Listen. Ellie and Felix are bros I don't make the rules. She denies it but she would kill for Felix.

-Usually has slight dark circles under his eyes, because he has nightmares sometimes and can't sleep.

-His eyes are really, really pretty. Like. Super fucking pretty. He has long lashes and they sparkle when he smiles. His eyes are hazel like Max's, but more on the brown side, with streaks of green radiating out from the pupil.

-Speaking of smiles. He has the goofiest and sweetest grins around. A little self-conscious about his teeth, but honestly that doesn't stop him from laughing and smiling with everyone. He has a couple broken teeth, but honestly it just makes his grin a lil lopsided and cute.

-He gets the Worst bed-head. It stands almost straight up in every direction, but it's really easy to tame. Mostly because he just runs his hands through it and calls it a day.

-He found Max's hair gel once and went Ham. He used the whole can sticking his hair up into a mohawk, and proceeded to parade around for Ellie and Parvati. Then bolt to his room and lock the door when Max shouted his name from the bathroom. Max's hair was out of whack for like. A week. He kept blowing it out of his face and Felix and Ellie would giggle like madmen when he did.

-*BANGS FISTS ON TABLE* FELIX IS BABY! FELIX IS BABY!!

Max:

-My MANS

-Listen, I am extremely gay for Max. This needs to be known before I continue, because I have a metric fuckton of Max HCs.

-So, first off, Max takes VERY good care of his appearance. Like. Insanely good. His hair is always perfectly held back by a moderate amount of gel, his nails perfectly trimmed and cleaned. He keeps a clean-shaven face.

-But don't let that fool you, Max can and will get down and dirty when need be, he just doesn't care to stay like that.

-Quite a few scars from his prison and Tossball years. But because of the clothes he wears you wouldn't be able to see them easily. Mostly on his back/sides, though he has a couple on his torso and legs.

-The Captain calls him Bigfoot because his grows hair really fast and his arms and chest have some pretty thick hair. Max is very confused, because he personally doesn't think his feet are that big.

-Not an appearance HC per se, but he smells like soap, aftershave, and books.

-When he doesn't gel his hair, it falls in his face constantly, and it annoys the fuck out of him.

-Fuckin ripped bro. Just. What the fuck. Why is a priest this fuckin shredded. Why make my gay little heart ache more than it already does, Obsidian??

-Despite his arm muscles being like. Huge, he still has a healthy layer of fat over his middle, mostly because being an OSI Priest, he got a little bit better nutrition VS. literally all of Halcyon.

-When his knee gets Bad (like hiking through Monarch with the Captain) he has a slight limp? Barely noticeable, but you can tell he's not putting weight on it. I HC its an old Tossball injury (that might be canon, I haven't played in forever).

-Its hard to tell in the different lights of the game whether his hair is Black or Silver, and I like to think he's greying, but not fully grey yet. He can have a little hair color, still. As a treat.

-Fuckin no lashes to speak of. None at all. Baldy eyes. Its the only part of him that doesn't have really thick hair and ngl he is very salty about it. Tho his actual eyes are very pretty; they're hazel with a lot of green. He has a darker ring on the outside and flecks of brown in them.

-Has very good teeth, whiter than most of Halcyon's because of the OSI providing for him.

-Broke his nose once during Tossball, though he was able to get it set alright. Slight crook in the bridge of his nose.

-He has a lot of those moles from his face scattered around. Particularly his shoulders and back.

-Also have you seen his fuckin canon thighs??? Bro. They could crush a watermelon. Once again, I must say, what the fuck, why is this priest so fuckin shredded.

-Actually takes his physical health very seriously, so I like to think he's in great shape for his age. Seeing him in some of the canon outfits though makes me more inclined to think that's canon.

-Sorry, I have thought about this A Lot, and the gay jumps out of me sometimes.

-A fair amount of scars on his arms. Not as many as Nyoka, but a little bit more than Parvati.

-Has calloused hands, but they've softened over his years as a priest.

Ellie:

-Now I feel like Ellie wouldn't have many scars that she didn't let scar up on purpose to give her an edge. They're essentially superficial; they look cool but didn't do any real damage.

-Also, her skin is very pale, so she doesn't scar easily anyway.

-Though she does have some, and they're more recent. A couple of gashes on her arms, and a bullet wound in her side. She's proud of them.

-The dark circles under her eyes are because she likes to stay up late at night. Sometimes she contemplates her life, but she doesn't like it, and usually doesn't bother too much.

-Her lashes are very thick and full, and they compliment her eyes very well. Her eyes aren't exactly ice blue, they're a bit darker, and have real pretty lighter streaks in them.

-Yes, her lips are naturally that color. Good for picking up women, bad for looking intimidating to marauders.

-Really soft skin, she's always had access to good lotion. After she leaves Byzantium, she purposely looks a bit more grimy than she did then, which is easy to do because of her skin tone.

-Has a few moles and freckles, but not many, mostly on her shoulders and back. She was inside a lot prior to her leaving Byzantium.

-Her hair doesn't really sit down when she sleeps, but it does lose some poofiness, so she has to meticulously push it up in the mornings.

-Not quite an appearance HC, but I feel like when she gets comfortable with ADA, she gives her compliments. Stuff like "Your screen is very bright today, ADA!" ADA does the same thing. "And your hair is looking very bright as always, Dr. Fenhill."

-Muscular, but lean, and puts on weight a little easier than others, so she wouldn't look like she could kick your ass without her pirate get-up, but she could 100%, no holds barred kick your ass.

-Very good teeth. Despite wanting to look like a gnarly pirate she takes dental care very seriously. Tho she thinks about getting punched in the mouth occasionally so she could like break off a piece of her tooth. Not the whole thing, just enough to make her look tough.

-Idc if piercings and tattoos aren't a Thing in Halcyon, Ellie has pierced ears. Three in each ear, and I like to think an eyebrow and maybe nose ring. She doesn't wear them when she's in Dangerous Situations because she firsthand had to fix ears that had their earrings ripped out during rich catfights that she does NOT want that to happen to her.

-She also has tattoos covering most of her back, and some of her upper arms. She got them "illegally" (meaning it's illegal to The Board, but the Groundbreaker doesn't really give a shit) on The Groundbreaker and she's proud as fuck of them.

-I have Feelings about the missed opportunities for illegal tattoo/piercing parlors. Like I know there's not a lot of self-expression to be had and no Art aside from fonts, but c'mon. Humans have drawn on their skin since the beginning all around the world and we WOULD find ways to do it again, even if it's needle-poke tattoos.

-Anyway, back to Ellie.

-You ever hear of a "lighter tattoo"? Basically, you heat up a lighter and then stamp the hot metal into your skin and it makes a mark in the shape of the lighter head. If you get it hot enough and hold it long enough it can scar. They have a similar thing in Halcyon with Plasma Cutters. Instead of Stab, you heat it up, turn it off, and press the blade to your skin and it pretty much scars within a couple seconds.

-Ellie 100% did a few of those when she was in Byzantium as like the "hahaha edgy" thing that teenagers do.

-Like I know technically kids aren't around but... bruh... you can't tell me that teenagers in a SciFi setting wouldn't do dumb ass shit like that.

-Ellie is honestly the baddest bitch and I love her, ok, she just reminds me so much of of those high school delinquent tropes in 90s movies

Nyoka:

-SO I HAVE SOME FEELINGS ABOUT NYOKA'S CANON DESIGN... IN THAT SHE'S ESSENTIALLY A MONSTER HUNTER BUT SHE HAS NO SCARS!

-Listen, ok, she would 100% have a lot of scars from her life on Monarch. I share some HCs with @nyokaacore in that she has three scars over one of her eyes, and a few others around her face, like on her lips.

-The bulk of her scars are on her arms and body, though, as she usually is able to get the Canid or Rapt off before they get to her face.

-I like to think the scars on her eye are from Freida, the first Rapt she ever killed that's taxidermied on her wall.

-But she has a lot of scars from Raptidon claws and Canid mouthplates, sprinkled with some Manti burns and burns from Rapt spit.

-She also has her fair share of bullet scars on her, and definitely has some patches of skin discoloration from incidents regarding the sulphur pools. Chemical burns are a bitch.

-She's tall, and not exactly curvy? But broad. Big shoulders, wide hips, sturdy legs. Looks like she could kill you, could actually kill you alignment.

-The sand and sulphur in the air plays Hell on her skin, so she's got some old acne scars and places that scarred up into moles on her face. Has an issue with dry skin.

-Her skin is also pretty oily, and she washes it when she can, but water is usually better spent being drunk than washed with. However, she does carry a spare bottle of non-drinkable water to wash Rapt acid off in emergencies, so sometimes she'll pull from that to wash her face with.

-Big hands, calloused, pretty scarred up from her time on Monarch.

-I also like to think that she can tell you stories about most of the scars she has, lmao.

-Her nose, like Felix's, has been broken quite a few times and is pretty crooked.

-Most often, you see Nyoka with a slight sunburn on her face. It's hard to see, but her cheeks are usually warm to the touch.

-Her teeth aren't the best, but she does take as much care of them as she can out on Monarch. Still pretty yellow with some cavities, but not as bad at Felix's.

-Honestly the dark circles around her eyes are usually because she doesn't sleep a lot. She has dreams about CHARON, and that's not her favorite thing to do.

-At a pretty healthy weight for Halcyon, and ofc, has muscles as big as your head.

-Surprisingly soft hands, though.

[maysbanks]

hypersonic missiles. (jj maybank)

hello ! some of you may recognise this fic and that’s bc it’s currently being rewritten as an oc fic rather than a reader insert fic which it was before. i can’t wait for you to read this and introduce you all to haley who i love dearly, so pls enjoy and lemme know what you think !!

warnings: swearing, mention of sex, sexual innuendos, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc

summary: after the death of her father, haley grubbs is determined to get the answers her mother seems to be keeping from her, seeking help from a group of pogues (which just happens to include her weekly hook-up) and unknowingly throwing herself into the midst of a treasure hunt.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

The gang gathered around John B's porch, spaced out in various positions amongst the furniture. Silence engulfed the group, the air thick with tension as none of the four teenagers dared to speak.

"JJ should be the one to go." Kie broke the silence, her words hanging in the air as the group processed them.

Said boy whipped around in his place, golden hair falling in his sea blue eyes as they widened, glancing wildly between each of his friends. "What?" He demanded. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one that's hooking up with her," Pope reminded, matter of fact. As if JJ needed to be reminded. The dark skinned boy gestured between him and the remaining two. "She's gonna trust you more than any of us."

Kiara and John B murmured their agreement, JJ scoffing as he flapped his arms, beginning to pace in his spot. "This is ridiculous," he muttered between gritted teeth. "She won't wanna talk to me any more than she'll want to talk to you guys. I mean, we've only hooked up like," JJ paused - raising a hand to count on his fingers. "Maybe like, eleven times, twelve at a push!"

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how chivalrous of you to keep count, JJ," she drawled sarcastically, the blonde boy simply shrugging in return as he took his formal position of leaning against the Chateau's wall. "Look, the thing is you know her better than the rest of us. You're familiar, we're not. We can't just go up to her and start asking questions about her dead dad and John B's compass."

JJ stared in disbelief. "And you think I can?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you guys realise this, but hooking up doesn't really require much talking. I barely know her."

"But you know her enough to warm her bed every week," John B piped up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. JJ sighed, lighting a fresh blunt as he refused to meet any of the gang's eyes, staring ahead. John B stepped over and beside the blonde, arm thrown over his shoulder. "We need answers, JJ. Answers she could have. I mean, it was her dad right? She must know something about why he had my dad's compass."

JJ nodded along, but the uncertain feeling bubbling in his chest didn't cease. Thoughts of the two men that had chased the group the day before, guns blazing, entered his mind. Then the memory of him and John B showing up at the Grubbs' residence, only to discover they had been beaten to it by the very same men - he'd heard them threaten Lana and Haley Grubbs, demanding questions about the same compass that lay heavy in John B's pockets. He knew his best friend deserved answers, why did Scooter Grubbs have Big John's compass the night he died? Why was Scooter Grubbs out in the storm that night anyway? Hell, even JJ wanted answers. But he couldn't shake the doubtful feeling, thoughts of Haley Grubbs swirling in his head.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He tried once more, voice small and defeated. The Pogues shared a glance, and he knew they'd already come to a decision. Sighing, he flicked the butt of his blunt, sending it flying in the opposite direction. "Fine, I'll go talk to her. But I'm not making any promises that she'll talk," he frowned. "Sometimes I kinda get the feeling she doesn't like me."

Kie snorted. "I wonder why."

What the gang hadn't bargained for, however, was that the same person who'd they been talking about was already on their way to them - boots stomping across the ground in a determined stride, their mind a whirlwind of series of memories, scenarios, and all the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Haley wanted answers, and she wanted them soon. (Sooner rather than later, if she was being precise.) The series of misfortunes events had all begun with the disappearance of her father - for whatever reason, he'd gone out in the storm that raged against the Outer Banks the night prior, and that, unsurprisingly, had led to his death. Memories of his body, washed up on the shore, cold and blue, eyes open but completely lifeless as they stared up at nothing and everything at the same time. Her heart wrenched at the sight, and she still hadn't been able to get the scene out of your head - her mother breaking down in a heap of sobs, Haley’s body following along with her as the pair both held each other and cried, Sheriff Peterkin's voice echoing in Haley’s mind, over and over again, like a siren. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing we could have done."

Haley knew that, of course. But it didn't explain why he was out in the storm in the first place. She had tried to question her mother, because she knew her dad wasn't a fool. Storm Agatha had been reported for weeks following up to it, he'd even made off-handed comments about it over dinner a couple of times. Her dad was aware about the storm, but had still risked his life (and coincidentally, ended it) to take a boat ride, or so that's what her mother told you.

Bull-fucking-shit. Haley knew there was more to the story, the appearance of two men breaking down her door and trashing her whole house was enough proof of that. And the fact that they were asking about a compass, of all things, didn't sit right in Haley’s gut either. Why the hell would two thugs want a compass, and why would her dad have it anyway? To her knowledge, her dad had never owned a compass in his damned life. (He also never owned a boat, which raised the suspicion of how the hell had he even gone out on a boat ride in the first place.) But the pair were persistent, and she was forced to watch as they threatened her and her mom, their last words sticking with her, sending a shiver of dread up her spine every time they echoed in her head; “We'll be back."

It was something straight out of a king-pin movie, and yet Lana Grubbs still wouldn't talk. She knew something, Haley knew it, and why she wouldn't share whatever information she knew with Haley was beyond frustrating - so she decided, fuck it. If her mother wasn't gonna give her her answers, then she was gonna go out and find them herself. Starting with John B. Routledge.

As if things couldn't have gotten any weirder, the teenaged boy had shown up not a minute after the two guys had left, appearing in Haley’s not-so-much of a doorway with the exact thing the thugs were after: the Compass. To her chargin, she hadn't had time to ask any questions though, her mother was quick to dismiss him (and JJ Maybank of all people, but she didn't really want to think about him at the moment) and warned him not to let anyone know that he had the compass, and Haley could see why - those guys were not to be messed with.

And so, John B. Routledge had left the Grubbs’ home, JJ Maybank in tow, and Haley was left to clean up the mess the bastards had left behind them. Her mothers warning rang in her ears; "Stay away from them boys. Do not get involved in this, Hales.” But alas, there she was, storming towards the property she knew the guys would be. Her mother didn't know, of course, and she was determined to make sure Lana never did. (Haley would be the next person she'd be burying if she ever did find it.)

All Haley wanted was answers, and if John B had even a couple, she was going to find them out. Her father had died, and there was more to the story than anyone was letting on. If it was up to her to piece the puzzle together, then so be it. She would, gladly.

So she marched in the direction of the Routledge residence, more determined than ever. As she walked, people gave her pitying looks, obviously recognising her as Scooter Grubbs’ daughter (the newfound bastard of the Outer Banks, sarcasm intended.) and she simply ignored each and every one of them. She didn’t need them, she thought. She was going to find out the truth, and each step Haley took she was closer to uncovering it all. Some people walked towards her as if to stop and talk, probably attempting to give her some kind of condolence, but each time a person did she hurried her pace; she couldn’t be stopped now, she was too close to getting where she wanted to be for some middle-aged folk tell her they were sorry about her loss, even though they couldn’t have cared less about her dad when he was alive.

Fucking bullshit, she thought.

Haley’s stride slowed however, when a familiar looking van made it's way into her vision, memories of it parked outside the very same house she was planning on going running through her already overactive mind. Her stomach churned, thinking she had missed her chance to interrogate the poor unsuspecting boy, before it seemed to slow down and pulled up to right where she was standing on the curb. Her respectively plucked eyebrows raised as the window rolled down, revealing none other than John B sat in the drivers seat, Kiara Carrera in the passenger, and Pope Heyward's and JJ's heads peering around the pair from the back of the van.

John B leaned out, his mop of wavy brown hair entering Haley’s brown eyed gaze, tight smile on his lips. "Haley,” he greeted. “Hey, where are you off to? Need a ride?"

"Actually," Haley drawled as she stepped closer, right arm leaning on the window as she sent a forced smile the teenaged boys way. “I was just heading over to yours. What a coincidence, huh?"

She never missed the look Kiara shot the two guys seated in the back, all of their eyes seemingly communicating in their own weird little telepathical way. John B blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a few seconds before he seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, really?" He asked, as naturally as he could. (It wasn't very natural at all.) “How, uh, how come?"

"Oh, you know," Haley started, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit, y'know, like the one you paid me this morning. Remember that?" She asked as innocently as she could manage. (It wasn't very innocent at all.) “Just wanted to ask you a few questions, s'all. Like why you have the one thing those meatheads that trashed my house were after. How you got hold of it, stuff like that."

And then she smiled like they were all sharing a perfectly civil conversation, as if the underlying threatening tone in her voice didn't exist at all. John B sighed, his head turning towards the rest of the group, catching their eyes and seeming to have another one of their telepathic conversations before he turned back to her figure, his head nodding towards the back of his infamous Volkswagen.

"Get in the back," he said - and she did, shooting him a smile that resembled one of a Cheshire Cat, satisfied as she moved to the other side, walking around the van and hearing him mutter from inside, "What? This is the perfect opportunity to ask her." She didn't need to look to know the rest of the gang were probably objecting her presence, but she couldn't care less. This was just the first step to getting what she wanted.

The door to the van was pulled open from the inside, JJ's head popping out and thrusting a hand out towards her to help her climb into the vehicle. Haley swiftly ignored the gesture, missing the flash of confusion and offence that appeared on the blonde's face, climbing into the van and seating herself beside Pope who smiled rather awkwardly toward her.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your dad," he said softly, fidgeting under her gaze. She smiled slightly at him in return, lips quirking more so in amusement at his obvious discomfort at either having her join them, or her being seated so close to him.

"Yeah, me too," Kiara piped up from the passenger seat, glancing over her shoulder towards her. "It must really suck, to just lose him like that."

Haley nodded, head turning in the direction of where JJ sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head as he muttered quietly, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." before averting his eyes when she looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

Kiara ignored him, the awkward silence that presented itself to the pedestrians inside the van only lasting a couple of seconds as she spoke up again. "I can't imagine what you and your mom are going through," she said, soft brown eyes darting to John B quickly before they returned to catch Haley’s once more. "We're always here if you need anything. Pogue's look out for each other, right?"

Haley forced a small smile, not bothering to bring up the fact that Kiara was technically not a Pogue, seeing no point in the matter as she sent her a small nod of appreciation, silently grateful for her words. Haley had always liked Kiara, or Kie, as she was more commonly known as. She had spent many times sat around a fire with her, listening to her rants about the environment and what everyone could do to help it, as an infamous Pogue kegger loomed around them. Haley was grateful for her presence amongst the guys, unsure of the fact that if she wasn't there, she probably wouldn't have entered the van. She was determined, but she also wasn’t stupid. Despite knowing the guys well and practically all her life, (it’s a small town kinda thing), she would never willingly get in a van with them and let them drive her to an unknown destination. Which reminded her suddenly - where the hell were they going?

"We're lucky we got each other, I guess," Haley said in relation to Kie's words. Kie nodded as her eyes darted to John B again. "But thanks, I really appreciate it." She fiddled with the hem of her faded out jean shorts, her next words directed towards John B. "So, care to tell me where we're going? Or better yet, why you have the damned compass my house was trashed for."

Silence filled the air of the Volkswagen. It was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension as everybody refused to meet her eyes. Haley was beyond frustrated, incredibly so, and she made a point to catch John B's eyes in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow quirking as she awaited an answer.

Finally, he sighed.

"The compass was my dads," John B revealed. Haley’s mouth opened in shock for a second before she clamped it back shut. "And for whatever reason, your dad had it. We uh, we found it at the wreck of your dads boat yesterday."

"Wait, what?" She demanded, blinking. She glanced between the gang, eyes accusing as she held each of theirs. "You guys found the wreck? And you didn't tell anyone?" She questioned, tone dangerously low. "And you stole from it?"

"It's not technically stealing if it was his compass," JJ defended, shrugging. Haley shot him a glare, feeling a bubble of irritation build deep in her gut. "And anyways, we tried to tell the coastguard about it after we first found it, but the guy was having none of it. They were hounded with the storm."

Her eyes narrowed. "First found it? Exactly how many times have you guys been at the wreck?" She demanded, tone accusatory.

The gang all swivelled to send JJ their own respected glares, Pope's voice small from beside her as he tried to explain. "Only a couple," he started, startling as her head whipped around towards him. "We're really sorry, okay! We didn't know it was your dads when we first found it, if we did, we wouldn't have snooped in his room either!"

Pope seemed to make note of his mistake as the rest of the gang did, Kie letting out a little frustrated groan from the back of her throat as JJ cringed, pointedly avoiding Haley’s gaze. John B's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, a warning "Pope" leaving his mouth.

Haley laughed, though it held no humour. She clasped her hands together, the slap of her palms meeting echoing in the confine space. "Let me get this straight, you guys not only found the wreck of my dads boat and didn't tell anyone about it, but also obviously found where he was staying and snooped in his room," she listed, feeling the familiar build of rage pulse through her body. “I mean, what the fuck you guys?"

"We're sorry," Kiara turned in her seat, meeting the Grubbs’ girl angered gaze. "We swear, if we had any idea it was your dad we wouldn't have. We were just, curious, I guess. We found the key on the boat when Pope first spotted it in the marsh, and before we even snooped we tried to tell the coastguard, but like JJ said, they weren't interested. So, John B and JJ went to look in the room."

Haley sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the van. She tried to tell herself to calm down - hell, she probably would have done the same thing if it was her in their position, she couldn't get mad at them over that. "And did you guys find anything?" She asked quietly, the gang seemingly relaxing as they recognised her calmer tone of voice.

"Did we find anything?" JJ snorted as he repeated her words, grin falling from his lips at the glares the rest of his friends shot him. Haley sat up straighter, taking note of their warning glances. JJ awkwardly coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he once again avoided her honey coated eyes. "Uh, not really."

"Not really?" She asked, frown on her plump lips. JJ nodded, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips, uncharacteristically quiet once more. "Okay, what the hell is going on? And no more bullshitting me, I've had enough of that from everyone else for the past forty eight hours. I came to you for answers, I'm not going anywhere without them."

She looked to John B then, hoping, pleading, that he would understand. He'd lost his dad too, nine months ago, supposedly lost at sea, believed to be dead. Haley knew he never believed that though, refusing to agree that his father was dead, insisting that he was simply missing. If there was one person that could understand her need to know about her dad, it was John B. And he knew it too, as he sighed and nodded.

"There was a safe," he started as she listened intently. "There was money inside it, I don't know how much. The cops kinda showed up when we were in there," he admitted sheepishly. "We had to hide before we could count it or anything. But there was also, um, a gun in the safe too."

"A gun?" Haley deadpanned. John B raised his eyes and caught hers, nodding. Haley scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through her almost waist length hair. "Why the hell would my dad have a gun?"

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," JJ blurted. "I kinda, uh, took it."

The Pogues glared at him again, Kie spitting a warning of his name, but the blonde just looked at the girl seated in front of him. Her eyes widened as he brandished the piece of metal, black in colour and daunting in shape. Of fucking course JJ Maybank had stolen her dads gun, she thought. It was so... JJ.

"You stole that from a crime scene?" She sputtered, heart squeezing uncomfortably in her chest as she eyed the object with disdain. JJ nodded, looking almost guilty. "My dads crime scene? What the fuck JJ? Do you realise how much trouble you could get into from taking that? For having that?"

Haley was unsure as to why she seemed to care so much about that, rather than the fact that he'd taken it from her dads motel room, and that the gun was technically her fathers. She didn't want to ponder too much about that, though, there was bigger fish to fry in that moment.

"Sorry," he said, rather dumbly. "You can have it, if you want?"

She stared at him incredulously as he held the gun out towards her, quickly shoving it away from her body as she shook her head forcefully. "What the fuck would I want with a gun, JJ?" Haley demanded. The blonde boy shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"It was your dads," he stated simply. From the corner of her vision she could see Pope sending him a wild look, brown eyes blown wide as he tried to be subtle and shake his head at his friend, silently warning him to shut the hell up, or so she presumed. "I just thought, y'know-"

"You thought wrong, JJ," Haley interrupted him before he could continue. His eyebrows furrowed as he noted her hostile tone, but let it go as he simply nodded, swallowing thickly when she turned away from him. “So, what happened, after the motel room?"

John B looked glad to be back on the original topic. "Well, it wasn't long after that we found it was your dad. We were gonna tell the police, but uh, we had this crazy idea that there might have been more on the boat, like money or something? I don't know, we just thought-"

"Your dad might've been a straight smuggler," Pope piped up. Haley’s glare made him shrink in his spot. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time, I get it."

"Right," John B said curtly as Kie groaned softly. "So we went to look again, and I found a duffel bag. The marsh was closed, obviously. But we weren't the only ones out there," his voice turned deadly serious. “After I got it, these two guys appeared on a boat. The same two guys that were at your place earlier."

Haley exhaled shakily at the information, memories of the two men entering her mind unwelcoming. The image of them carelessly tearing apart her house, screaming threats at her and her mother, gun held to her temple as their fists left holes in the walls and bruises on her mothers skin. She shuddered and hoped the rest of the gang hadn't noticed, but she could see the pity in John B's eyes as they reconnected with her own.

"They chased after us, and they were shooting at us too. We managed to escape them, and when we got back on land I looked in the bag, and all that was in it was the compass. My dads compass. It's a Routledge family heirloom, and your dad had it."

His tone held accusatory, though she couldn't blame him for it. It was a mystery to even her as to why or how her father had gotten hold of the compass, and she knew John B wanted answers just as much as she did. Haley felt almost guilty that she couldn't give him any as she spoke up, “I didn't know anything about it, I swear. The first time I've even heard of it was today when those guys showed up. I'm sorry, John B."

Said boy nodded, seemingly believing her as he sent a small smile her way, reassuring her. “Anyways, that's why me and JJ went to your place, I just wanted to know if maybe you or your mom knew anything about it or why your dad had it," he shrugged a shoulder, trying to come off as non-chalant. "And that's when we saw those guys again. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

She shrugged too, an expression of what-you-gonna-do on her face. Though she desperately wanted to know more about the compass, and why it could be so important to the thugs, she withheld her questions for the moment, deciding they could come later.

"And then they arrived at mine," John B revealed. Haley’s yes widened in surprise at the sudden revelation, churning of fear twisting at her gut. "They did the exact same at my place that they did to yours; tore the whole place apart, looking the compass I guess."

JJ burst then - Haley jumped as his voice echoed in the van, much more louder than what John B's had been, excitement lacing his tone as he began to recite the story of the two thugs and their mission of tearing John B's poor beloved Chateau apart, hands gesturing wildly around him.

"Yeah, they were fucking crazy man! We were all locked in Big John's office, no way out apart from the window that was fucking painted shut. We could hear them, taunting us, y'know. Like, 'you better not be in there', they even knew John B's name!" JJ rambled, excitable expression painted on his boyish features. "They come in, guns-a-blazing and we're all tryna figure out how the hell to get out of there, before we finally manage to open the window and hide in the fucking chicken coop of all places. It was fucking insane, man. I had to kill a hen just so we could make it out alive."

Haley blinked at that, her jaw dropping slightly as she tried to process all the information he'd thrown at her all within a minute. JJ calmed down from his passionate retale, chest heaving slightly as he took in her dazed expression, sea blue eyes catching hers and holding them. Kiara said his name in a warning tone from the passenger seat, and he snapped out of his stare-off with the olive skinned girl, but she was still looking at him in disbelief.

"That's basically it," John B said from the front of the van, though his face held a slight grimace at his best friends rather dramatic recite. "But yeah, they practically stripped my dads office bare. They took everything, all of his books, research, everything about the Royal Merchant."

If anybody had noticed her sudden stiff posture at the mention of the Merchant, they never spoke on it. The Royal Merchant. Something Haley was all too familiar with. It had been something of a fascination to her father for a while, especially in the weeks leading up to his death. She just thought it was a weird hobby, a strange interest of his that she never really thought much of. It was nice to see her dad passionate about something, she’d thought. No matter how strange she believed it to be, he had a hobby and she was happy for him. But, sitting in the back of John B. Routledge's van, surrounded by a group of teenaged Pogues, one of which she was were all too familiar with, to put it simply, her throat tightened.

Surely the Royal Merchant couldn't have had anything to do with her dad, right? She was just thinking too much, more than likely. But something in the back of her mind was nagging, unforgiving as the thoughts whirled in her head.

"But before the guys showed up, we found something," she focused back her attention as John B continued. "There's something engraved on the compass. Redfield. It's my dads handwriting, he must have put it there for me, before he disappeared."

Haley shared a glance with JJ as John B said the word. Disappeared. Ever the hopeful, yearning boy. She couldn't doubt his wish, she wished for nothing more for her dad to appear back in her life - but she knew that hers was dead, officially. How could she forget, she saw his lifeless eyes every time she closed hers.

But John B didn't have that, he never knew, really, if his father was truly dead or alive. The records said so, but he'd refused to sign them, or so she heard. He was still hopeful, so certain that his dad would just appear back at the Chateau one day, like he'd never disappeared in the first place. But Haley - and many others - were realistic, and the reality was there was very little to no chance that Big John Routledge was alive.

(Her heart broke for the boy.)

She tuned out the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the drive, her head leaning back on the cool metal of the wall as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander with all the possibilities. Could the Royal Merchant really have been a factor in her dads death? She couldn't shake the feeling, as she could hear vaguely the conversation of the gang. John B insisting that his dad was leading him on a mission, Kiara trying to be supportive but anyone could pick up on the doubt in her voice, Pope piping up with rather unhelpful scenarios like Big John having been kidnapped, (Haley had rolled her eyes), and JJ adding his input, multitasking with rolling a blunt. (She’d rolled her eyes harder.)

The thing was, Haley and the Maybank boy had a little deal going on. She could remember the exact day it had begun, at an infamous Pogue kegger, the sun having set and leaving the sky coloured in perfect hues of pink, purple and yellow. It had been a beautiful night, she had to admit. The party had gone strong to the early hours of the morning, and she’d somehow found herself leaving with JJ Maybank. He'd approached her after she witnessed him striking out with a Touron, (surprisingly), eyes narrowing at her when she’d let out a giggle at his misfortune. He had been hostile at first, demanding what she was laughing at, grinning slightly when she informed him simply 'you'.

The rest of the night had been spent in each others company, and Haley could recall the exact moment where they were dancing closely, bodies pressed tight against each other, her arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, his own around her waist, fingers digging into her hips. Their breath mingled together, his forehead leaning against her own, and she’d expected the moment his lips fell on herd, slightly chapped but impossibly soft against her own as they danced in a passionate embrace that secretly took her breath away. She’d let him lead her to John B's Chateau across the beach, hand gripped in one another’s, as he pressed her to every surface until they managed to stumble their way into the spare bedroom.

She had told herself the next morning that it would only be a one time thing. Haley wasn’t one for random hook-ups, not that no one had tried to coax her into one. She was kinda known amongst the island as being this untouchable, obtainable person that nobody could ever get close to. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made everyone label her as this being - maybe it was the fact that she was a loner and didn’t stick to one friendship group and spent most of her time to herself, maybe it was the fact that people thought she was weird because her dad was known to be such a loser (God rest his soul), or maybe it was the fact that she skateboarded around town morning till dawn, earphones plugged in and music blasting so loud that passerby’s could hear every word clearly.

The point was, she wasn’t known for getting close to anyone. And yet, she had found herself drifting back to JJ Maybank many other nights after that first one, and that’s where their little deal came into play.

But that's where it began, and also where it ended. Hers and JJ's relationship (if you could even call it that) never went beyond that. Random hook-ups here and there, whenever JJ struck out with a Touron and found himself soughting Haley out amongst the crowd to fill the space in his bed. Of course they were always friendly with each other, they’d known each other for so long, that it would have been silly not to continue being friendly. But they never hung out, not with his group, not with him alone apart from their many nights of endeavours, until now, she supposed. She thought it might have been weird, and she thought correct. Neither of them really looked at each other head-on, the air awkward and thick as the driving continued.

Haley was thankful when John B seemed to finally arrive at his destination, and she leaned forward with Pope to glance out the window, spotting the tall lighthouse stood proud in front of the group. Redfield, the name was written boldly on display.

"Redfield Lighthouse," John B spoke. "My dads favourite place."

She clambered from the van as the rest of the guys did, gazing up at the high building with her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun from where they all gathered at the clearing. John B turned to face JJ. "Right, you're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?"

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he demanded, "Wait, why me?" His expression only darkened when Pope informed he wasn't to go in the Lighthouse, Haley watching from the sidelines, unsure where to put herseld in the situation. "Why?" He continued to argue.

Pope grabbed hold of JJ's shoulders. "There are independent and dependent variables, you're an independent variable-" he tried to explain but was quickly cut off as JJ began to yell over his words. "We don't know what you'll do!"

"Shut up!"

Haley awkwardly scuffed her boots on the ground as Kiara sent her a small smile from ahead of the boys, rolling her eyes dramatically when Haley caught them. She smiled at the gesture, once again appreciative of her presence. "Listen to me for a second," John B cut in their argument, stepping forward. "Pope, you stand look out with JJ, okay?" The pair in questioned seemed reluctant, but both nodded at John B's persistent glare. The tall brunette turned to her next, gaze softening immensely when he caught sight of her uncertain posture. "Do you mind keeping an eye out here?"

She shook your head immediately, sending him a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure. That's fine by me. Heights aren't really my thing anyway," she told him as she looked up at the Lighthouse, nausea hitting at a slight force when she stared at the very top of the building amongst the blue sky. "Yeah, I'm good here."

He nodded back at her, a thankful smile on his lips. "If we split up, we meet back at JJ's house." He spoke, directing the words to the whole group. They all nodded their agreement.

"Great." Kie finalised, shooting Haley one last small smile before her and John B began to walk off, jumping the small fence that blocked their path, their stride quickly entering them into the lighthouse. Haley exhaled as they disappeared into the door, and moved her gaze to return on the two boys she was stuck with.

"I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay." Pope informed, before he turned and entered back into the van, leaving her and JJ stood on the outside of it, alone and deadly quiet. She looked at the golden haired boy as he pulled out a happy sack from his pocket, beginning to kick it around with his booted foot.

Haley sighed as she leaned on the passenger side door, her teeth biting down on her watermelon flavoured chapstick covered lip as she stared at the grass beneath her feet, her mind racing. A thud caught her attention and she glanced in the direction of where it had come from, a happy sack laying at her feet. She looked back up to JJ, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry about that."

She huffed out a small laugh, bending down and snatching the sack from the floor. "You don't have to apologise to me JJ," she said softly. Throwing the sack back to him, his large hands reached out and cupped it, bringing it back to his chest. “I'm sorry about this, y'know, gatecrashing your friends' little adventure."

JJ's lips quirked, his muscular arm reaching back and throwing the sack into the air, Haley catching it and holding his eyes. "You're not gatecrashing anything," he assured. In the sunlight, his skin cast a golden glow. "And 'sides you deserve to be here. You're looking for just as much answers as John B is."

"I'm not sure about that," Haley told him and threw the sack to him. "I mean, I'm looking for answers, of course. That's why I'm here. But I'm pretty sure John B needs them more than I do," she glanced at the lighthouse momentarily. "I know what happened to my dad, pretty much. He died while being out in the storm, I know that, I just don't know why he was out in the storm or what he was even up to in the weeks leading up to it. John B doesn't even know for sure if his dad is dead or alive." She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. "He deserves answers way more than me."

JJ nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he paused in throwing the sack back towards her, looking at her small figure thoughtfully. "Do you think they could be connected?" He asked suddenly. Haley stared at him, confusion painted on her face. "Your dads, I mean. Yours and John B's. Do you think they could be connected, like your dads death and JB's dads disappearance?"

She stopped. Could they be, really? She had to admit she thought about it in the van on the journey there, but as quickly as it came it passed. To her knowledge, her dad and Big John didn't really know each other - of course they knew each other, but they didn't mix, or so she believed. But her mind replayed the moment John B mentioned the Royal Merchant, the way her stomach had filled with dread immediately, and she had the sinking feeling that it was very possible that what JJ was hinting at could be true.

"I don't know, maybe," she said instead, not wanting to voice her thoughts. JJ nodded thoughtfully, finally throwing her the sack back. She caught it, and repeated the process back to him again.

"I am sorry, though. About your dad," JJ's voice was soft, careful as he watched her pause, taking in his words. "I was gonna say more before, but with the guys... I know how much he meant to you."

Haley smiled gently, a sudden flutter in her chest alarming her as she nodded appreciatively at his words. "Thank you, JJ," she said quietly, sincerely. "It means a lot."

JJ nodded too, chapped lips pulling into an uncertain half-grin. "And I just wanted to say as well, that uh, I don't want things to be like, weird between us or anything," he stated awkwardly, clearing his throat. Haley almost laughed at the look on his face. "I mean, like, with us hooking up and stuff-"

"It won't be weird," Haley quickly interrupted him, grin overtaking the features of her face despite her better thoughts. "It was just hooking up, right? Not like we're exes or anything. No need to make it weird."

"Right," JJ voiced his agreement. Head full of long blonde locks nodding along at her words, dimples winking at her as they made an appearance in his cheeks when he smiled. "Not making it weird. Here's to that."

She laughed as the happy sack landed in her hands, holding it there as she squinted in the sun, grin cheeky as she gazed at him from her small distance. "Yeah, we'll just have to pretend we've never seen each other naked." She joked as she finally threw him his toy back.

The golden haired boy returned her smile, eyes mischievous as they made a show to glance at her figure from head to toe. "Trust me, I'll have to pretend a lot more beyond that to stay civil."

And before she could even think to voice her thoughts of Fuck, how did that almost kinda turn you on, a sudden and loud blare of a familiar siren startled, Haley’s and JJ's eyes widening as they met, a panicked expression matching in their features.

"Shit!" Haley uttered as JJ dropped the happy sack, her head turning to catch sight of the impending police car making its way towards where they were parked. She quickly glanced to the lighthouse, her heart dropping when she saw no sign of John B or Kiara, JJ grabbing her by the arm suddenly and practically dragging her into the van in the passenger seat, him running to occupy the drivers as Pope's head popped up between the seats, questioning them both erratically. She could give him no answers however, having no idea what had prompted the police to arrive. Haley had no time to think about what could have happened as JJ slammed his foot down, peeling out of the grassy area and away from the scene. "What about John B and Kie?"

"They'll be fine," JJ assured her, though they were empty words. He had no clue what had happened either, or if his friends would make it out and away from the lighthouse in time, but he still reached over and squeezed Haley’s knee gently when he saw her worried look. He caught her gaze and held it. "They'll be fine."

She could only hope that was true.

It was hours later when Haley and the Pogues gathered around John B's kitchen table, deadly silent as everyone processed what had just transpired.

She’d had JJ and Pope drop her off at home after escaping the police at the lighthouse, aware that she had been gone a long while and her mother was probably sick with worry by that point. If she wasn’t home within the hour, Haley had no doubt that she would have the police patrolling the streets, searching for her. When she toldthe boys this, they chuckled as she ordered them to park around the corner from her home, not wanting her mother to spot her leaving the van. She’d told them to call her when they heard from either John or Kiara, and they'd both agreed as she climbed from the van and walked the familiar path to her house.

Sure enough, Lana practically collapsed into her when she’d entered. Her arms were wrapped around Haley so tightly as they squeezed all the air out of her lungs, her mothers voice in her ear a jumbled mess of words laced in a frantic tone. Haley assured her she was fine, that no harm was done, and that she had just gone for a walk around the Outer Banks. Lana seemed hesitant, but had allowed Haley to ease her worries as she led her towards the couch and sat her down, letting her mom hold her for as long as she needed to assure her mind that she were really okay.

Haley felt almost bad, seeing her in such a panicked state. But then she remembered if she had just answered her questions truthfully instead of hiding everything from her than she wouldn't be sneaking around in the first place. And then the guilt subsided, if only a little. (Haley still felt awful.)

It was a couple of hours after that when a knock had sounded on her bedroom window. She had startled, her heart racing as she wondered who the hell could be knocking on her window, at night, too. She almost very nearly didn't go towards it, in fear of the two faces of the men from earlier that day greeting her, but she’d exhaled a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the face of JJ Maybank.

"Care for a late night drive?" He'd asked, and she’d rolled her eyes. His grin never faltered as he watched her put on her boots, checking in on her mother and determining if the coast was clear to sneak out, before she’d climbed from her window, thankful that the house was only one story as she did so. Despite that fact, JJ's hands still gripped her hips as he helped her (though he didn't have to) down from the window.

She’d felt instant relief when she spotted Kiara and John B sat in the van, having resumed their earlier positions. Kie grinned at her as she got in the back along with JJ and Pope, who smiled at her also, as Haley began to question the both of them on what had happened after they’d fled the scene.

They'd been caught, of course. But they'd also been released, and that was the main thing. Haley decided to focus on the positives as John B drove them all off, this time to a cemetery of all places - leading the way towards a specific grave that he informed them all was his great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield. Her maiden name, apparently.

And of fucking course inside that crypt was a white FedEx envelope, addressed to Bird, which they would later discover was actually John B's nickname given to him by his dad, who'd actually left the envelope there - hoping one day that his son would find it. (Because of fucking course Big John would do that.)

The pieces to the puzzle were all coming together, bit by it, slowly but surely. They’d all returned to the Chateau upon the discovery of the envelope, which contained a map, the sight very familiar. (The Royal Merchant, of fucking course it was.) And there was a very obvious X displayed on it too, X marks the spot. Along with that, a tape recorder fell into the palm of John B's hand.

"Dear Bird," the voice had started, vaguely familiar to Haley’s ears. There was no question as to who the voice belonged to - Big John Routledge was speaking directly into the room, all five teenagers gathered around listening intently. "I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

Haley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at JJ who was beside her, his own face a perfect replica of confusion and amazement.

"There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started." Big John's voice continued to fill the deafening silence of the room. "Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

The recorder clicked off after that, once again silence engulfing the room. Haley felt her stomach churn, her heartbeat to quicken, her palms beginning to sweat. She couldn't believe it. Big John Routledge had gone and found the Royal Merchant. The Royal Merchant, of which her own father had spent months obsessing over. The Royal Merchant, as in the ship that had sunk over two hundred years ago. The Royal Merchant, in which had bought her and this ragtag group of misfits together.

They all littered around the pontoon close to John B's house, beers in hand as Kie strummed softly on her ukulele, the night air a welcome comfort to Haley’s clammy skin, her heart having still not calmed from when she’d first come to the realisation that Big John had found the Royal Merchant, and now she was joining the Pogues on finishing what he had started - for her own father, she thought as she looked towards the stars in the summer nights sky, smiling softly up at them. For you, dad.

"How much was it again?" JJ broke the silence, the golden haired boy seated closest to her.

"Four hundred mil," John B reminded, though he said it dreamily, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't, either, in all honesty. Five teenagers, about to charge head-first into a treasure hunt? They had to be crazy. But for four hundred million, anyone would be.

JJ's head turned at rapid speed, before he let out a sigh and clasped his hands together, looking between them all. "Alright, let's talk the split. Now, before we say 'evenly' may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us," he branded the gun, waving it around as he spoke. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"Technically, that should be my gun," Haley pointed out, shrugging a shoulder and smiling cheekily when he turned to glance over at her, frown etched on his lips. "You said so yourself, remember?"

"You said you didn't want it!" He protested instantly.

She licked her lips as she teased him, "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

JJ shook his head, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at her in disbelief, though his smile was enough to let her know he found humour in her actions. "You don't just get backsies on a gun," he deadpanned.

Haley rolled your honey coated eyes as Pope quickly interrupted the two of them. “You haven't trained," he directed towards JJ. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, bro!" JJ countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This," he pointed to the gun. "Is at least a five percent bump right there."

The group collectively ignored him, though Haley sent him a smirk when he looked at her, an expression of am-I-right or am-I-right on his pretty face. Kie tilted her head towards Pope. "What are you gonna do with your eighty mil, Pope?" She questioned.

"Pay for college in advance," the boy answered immediately. "And also, textbooks. Those are expensive."

Haley couldn't help but smile at him, Pope, ever the thoughtful one. She knew if she had half the brains Pope had she’d probably be the exact same as him - planning ahead, working towards college more than anything. She admired the boy, truly. But her future wasn't nearly as bright as Pope's, she was aware of that. Which made the desire to find that treasure from the Royal Merchant all that more huge.

"What about you, Haley?” She was broken from her thoughts as Kie suddenly directed her words to the other girl, raising an expectant brow as she came to, noting the rest of the gang all looking at her with similar expressions.

What would she do with her money? Honestly, she had no idea. She felt incredibly lucky to even be considered to get a share of it, given that she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, demanding answers about her dead dad and the damned compass that had started it all in the first place. She’d questioned the guys immediately after the discovery of Big John's reveal, telling them that she was totally okay with not getting a share, had even told them she’d back off and leave them to it, though so many more questions needed answering in her mind. But they'd all immediately disagreed, letting her know that she were apart of this just as much as they all were. This was her journey, too.

"Move me and my mom out of our shitty house," Haley decided. "Get a huge ass house on Figure Eight, buy anything that we wanted. Treat her to everything she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe buy a holiday home in Italy, visit there every year and have a holiday romance with an insanely hot Italian guy."

Her and Kiara shared a giggle at that, missing the way the blonde beside her shifted almost uncomfortably, eyes downcast towards the water for a second before he licked his lips, proclaiming loudly, "I know what I'll do. I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight, and go full Kook," JJ announced, eyes meeting hers and sending her a wink. "We can be neighbours."

Haley laughed outright, shaking her head at his dramatics as he continued. "Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond, put a bunch of those fish-"

"I'm never visiting." Kie mumbled, interrupting his sentence as they all shared a laugh, gazes suddenly turning to John B who hadn't spoken in a while, the tanned brunette simply staring off into space, almost seemingly lost in his world.

"What about you, John B?" He looked back towards the four of them sprawled out on the pontoon, his eyes catching Haley’s own for a millisecond, the pair of them understanding exactly what was going through both their minds in that moment.

"To going full Kook," he raised the hand that held his beer, the group of Pogues wasting no time in following the action, all their hands raising, beer cans glinting under the moonlight as they all exclaimed, "To going full Kook!" into the summer nights air, the excitement and anticipation present in all of their voices.

And she grinned as she clinked her beer with JJ's, the blonde throwing a careless arm over her shoulder as he tugged her closer to him; Haley’s own naturally wound around his waist in return as they all laughed and joked into the night, the promise of an adventure and bright future's ahead of them all.

She failed to notice that their arms never really left each other until later that night, when her departure from the gang forced her to unwind her limbs from his, their gazes catching, secret smiles on both their faces.

Oh, this would be fun.

[fics-for-my-heart]

Broken  (b.h)

Summary: After a bad breakup you go to the only person you know can help

Word count: 2332 

Warning: The ex is a dick, some cussing, mention of getting sick

Requested: I love your blog so much omg! I’m not sure if requests are open but if they are may I please request something with Ben? Could you maybe do something where reader has just come out of a long term relationship bc the partner said they didn’t love her anymore? And she goes to best friends Bens house crying wth makeup all down her face and runny nose and it’s just the sweetest comfort he could ever give her? Maybe a sweet lil kiss if you could? I’m not having a great day as you can probs tell 😭❤️

A/N: I hate writing people who are dicks. Ugh. But I hope this is good. Honestly i was thinking of maybe making another part? Let me know please!

Masterlist

“Russ will be here any minute. What if he doesn’t like my dress?” Your eyes widened as you met the green ones watching you through your phone screen. 

“Y/N, you look beautiful. Take a deep breath. He’s going to love your dress.” Ben said, his reassurance calmed you down, like it always did. He’d been your best friend for ages, and was always your rock when your mind started getting too jumpy. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, centering yourself. “Okay. I think I’m ready.” After looking over yourself you picked up your phone. “Thank you Benny. I hope you have a good night. I’ll text you when I get home.” 

“Have fun tonight, but not too much fun.” 

You laughed, shaking your head as you hung up. 

“Y/N! He’s here!” Cordelia, one of your roommates called. 

“Alright. Tonight is the night. It’s happening. Tonight.” You examined your left hand, the ring finger currently empty. But hopefully not for long if your suspensions are correct. All signs point to yes. He had lunch with his mother and grandmother a month back, and he’s been acting slightly nervous. After three years there’s really only one thing you can think of that could make him that way. 

With one more glance at the mirror you were out the door, nervous butterflies fluttering around your belly. 

Russ was leaning against the door with his phone in his hand as you came down. He looked handsome as always, his suit tailored to him, his white button down chrisp against the black of the jacket. His blond hair was quaffed just right while still looking slightly ragged. 

The butterflies intensified as you drank him in. Smiling about just how lucky you were. 

“Hi.” You whispered once you hit the bottom step. 

He hadn’t looked up until you spoke, his soft smile didn’t quite meet his eyes as he pecked your cheek. “Hello dear. Are you ready?” 

“Yes! I’m starving. I already checked online at their menu so it won’t take me long to make a decision.” 

He chuckled lightly as his hand met your back, leading you out to his car. 

Russ was quiet through most of the ride, which was weird because normally the two of you had a good flow. But he was probably nervous about what was about to happen. You sure were. And bless him he just let you talk and talk the entire way there, and part way through the meal. Reminiscing on some of your favorite memories together. 

“Do you remember that time we got snowed in at the cabin?” You sighed, remembering how nice it had been. Just the two of you for three days. “We should definitely do that again.” 

“I want to break up.” 

“We can go aft...wait.” Your heart stopped, but was also making your ears ring. You must have heard him wrong. “What?” The squeak was almost too soft to hear. 

Russ rubbed his brow with his thumb and forefinger, and gave a heavy sign. “I said I want to break up.” He wouldn’t look at you as your mouth gaped like a fish. 

The world got blurry as you silently started crying. “You. You’re not.” Your chest shuddered. “You’re not proposing?” Again, barely a whisper. 

A look that could only be described as disgust crossed his face, becoming stronger as he spoke. “Proposing? Why would you even think that?”

You started picking at a thread in the napkin on your lap. Still crying. Still hardly able to speak. “I told Cordelia you went to eat with your mom and grandmother and she said that you must be asking for your great grandmother's ring.” 

He sighed, again. “Oh my god.” You glanced up just as he was shaking his head. “No, Y/N. I’m not asking you to marry me. I,” again with the sighing, like he has better things he could be doing. “I met someone else, and I just don’t love you anymore.” 

You were going to puke. Yup, bile was definitely burning your throat just like the tears burning your eyes. “Som-someone e-else?” 

“Yes. That’s who I was with when I told you I was with mom and gran.” 

“That was.” You shook your head, a new emotion starting to build in your gut. “That was a month ag..how long?” You weren’t sure you even wanted to know. Dread. Sadness. Anger. To many emotions at once. Your hands were shaking as you looked at him. Waiting on his answer. 

Finally guilt flashed across his face. “Eight months ago.” 

Suddenly you were on your feet, chair knocked over and your voice the loudest it’s ever been. “EIGHT MONTHS? You’ve been cheating on me for eight months?” Your voice broke at the end with a full body sob. “Ei-eight fucking months? After almost four years!” Everyone was looking at you.

Again, Russ sighed, he really must have better things to be doing. Or a better someone. “Look Y/N. We had a great time together.” His voice was the low one now, trying to not be overheard. But everyone in the restaurant was quiet. Even the chef and line cooks had come out to watch. “I’m sorry. I just needed something new. We’ve got lots of good memories together, as you know since you talked about a lot of them tonight. But I just don’t want to be with you anymore.” 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner? Why fucking stay with me?” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at anyone else. The embarrassment only added to your nausea. 

Russ shrugged one shoulder. “Since I’m being honest, you’re really good at a..few things. And I wasn’t quite ready to give them up.” 

“You fucking dick! You piece of sh..” Your own body cut you off with a wretched sob that had firm, but soft hands wrapping around your arm. 

“Shh.” A gentle breath hit your ear as the hand turned to an arm, wrapping around you. “Come on dear, let’s get you out of here.” Russ moved to get up as you finally looked at the women at your side. Her hard stare was enough to send him back on his butt. “You better sit your ass down and don’t move.” She turned you, grabbing your bag on the way to the door. 

“Here hun.” Another soft voice said, as a phone was placed gently in your hand. “Enter your address, I’m paying for your Lyft home.” It was the hostess who had taken you to your table. Her face saying she heard everything. 

There was only one place you could think of to go, and it wasn’t home. With shaky hands you typed in the address, thanking the hostess. Then waited, still in the arms of the nice women who had come to your rescue.

“Thank you.” You whispered, eyes finally drying enough. 

She tisked. “No need dear. I couldn’t let him talk to you like that. Howard, my husband, is making sure he doesn’t come out here while you’re still here. I’m Wanda by the way.” She reached in her pocket, pulling out a business card. “My husband and I are realtors. If you need anything. This number is my cell.”

You nodded, spilling the card in your purse as a car pulled up. 

“Lyft for Y/N?” The female called through the window. 

“That’s me.” You turned to Wanda, “thank you again, really. I. I don’t know what could have happened if you hadn’t stepped in.” 

“I’ve got girls of my own and a son too. I couldn’t sit back and watch it go on. You go home and get some rest.” She opened the door and you climbed in, thankful for the quiet of the car. 

The ride wasn’t long, but it felt like forever. Your mind was reliving the past 30 minutes over and over. Your jaw was hurting from trying not to cry in a strangers car. It was taking everything in you not to lose it, but the moment Ben opened the door you collapsed. 

“Fuck.” He gasped, reaching for you before you were all the way down. “Y/N? Y/N what happened?” He was pulling you inside as you shook with sobs, clinging to him as if he might disappear. 

“Shit.” You heard him whisper as he wrapped an arm around you, using the other to lift you. “Y/N. Talk to me what’s going on?” 

You still couldn’t speak, just sobbed more and pressed your face into his shoulder as he carried you to the living room, keeping you in his lap as he sat. 

And he let you cry. Gently rocking side to side, a hand softly rubbing your back as the other kept you against him. His breath was warm as he shushed you. His lips occasionally pressing against the crown of your head. 

“Russ broke up with me.” You finally whispered against his chest, hiccups causing your body to jump. His entire body froze as you kept talking. “He’d...he was cheating on me. Has been for..for a while. Then, said the only reason he stayed with me was for the sex.” Another hiccup had you gasping for a moment. “Everyone in the restaurant heard him….I think I’m going to be sick.” 

You jumped out of his lap, running to the bathroom under the stairs and dry heaved. The tears started again, as nothing came up, but Ben’s general fingers were pulling your hair back just in time. 

“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay.” His voice was general as he stood there. Then once you were flopped on the floor, he handed you a glass of water. 

“Why me, what did I do? Why wasn’t I good enough?” You sniffed. How many tears could someone cry? “I’m sorry.” 

“No. There’s no need to be sorry. Here.” He extended his hand. “Let’s go upstairs and get you cleaned up.” 

The only sound in the house were your hiccups and both your feet walking up the steps. He led you to his bathroom, handing you a toothbrush. As you brushed your teeth he went back to his room, returning with one of his hoodies and shorts. 

Your face was a mess, and you almost started crying again looking at how different you looked now compared to just two or so hours earlier. Eyeliner and mascara streaked your face, eyeshadow was smeared everywhere, and your hair was all over the place. Not to mention how red and swollen your eyes were. 

“Up.” Ben said, patting the space beside the sink and pulling out some makeup wipes. “I want you to know something.” His voice was a whisper as he gently started removing your makeup. “You are so strong and amazing, Y/N. I know it hurts now, but I promise it’ll get better. And I’ll be here through it all with you.” He placed a soft kiss on your now clean forehead. “You are beautiful, and smart, and funny. Russ is a moron for what he did.” He finished with your eyes and pushed your chin up to look at him. “But that’s his fault. He’s the dumbass who fucked up. Not you. It’s not your fault. Okay?”

Tears were threatening to fall again as you pinched your lips and nodded. As you looked away you saw the mess on his shoulder from your makeup. “Oh. I’m s-“ 

He put a finger to your mouth. “It’s a shirt. It’ll wash out. Please, Y/N, stop apologizing.” 

The two of you were silent as he finished wiping your face. Then he gently brushed out your hair, braiding it behind you. 

He stepped away, letting you get off the sink. “Alright. You, bed. I’m going to go make you some tea.” 

You just nodded, exhaustion weighing every movement down as you buried yourself in his bed. 

Ben's bed was always one you preferred over your own. It was the perfect amount of softness and firmness. His duvet was light as a cloud but still warm. And his sheets always smelled like him. 

“Y/N?” 

You grunted in response, moving the blanket down. 

“Tea, love.” Carefully he joined you, passing you the tea once you were sitting up comfortably. “It’ll help with your stomach.” 

Ben turned the tv on to a movie you'd each seen a few times as you sipped the tea that was made just how you liked it.  

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” You whispered to your empty tea cup. There were so many thoughts swimming in your head, yet you felt empty. Drained physically and emotionally. 

Ben took the cup and sat it on the nightstand before gently placing both hands on your face. His green eyes unyielding at his seriousness. Yet his voice was just as gentle as it was all night. “Please stop apologizing. I’m serious. There is nothing you need to tell me sorry for.” His thumb swiped at a tear as you nodded. “Your feelings are valid. You have every right to be upset and to show how upset you are. And I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here through all the tears and for anything you need.” 

Your body relaxed, his hands the only thing holding you up. After another nod from you, he pressed his lips against your head, holding them there for a bit before pulling you to lay with him. 

The gentleness of his hand rubbing your back, and the rhythm of his heart beat relaxed you more. And you knew, even if it was just for tonight, that you were safe and that he was right, even if it’s not okay right now it will be. That was the last thought you had as you drifted off to sleep, thankful to forget the events of the day even if only for a few hours. Knowing Ben would be there when you woke up to keep you grounded. Just has he always had been. 

[itwillbeall-dwight]

trials in error

danny "jed olsen" johnson | the ghost face/felix richter; fluff and angst; canon-typical violence; enemies to fwb to lovers to enemies lmao; 5677 words

a/n: did i finish two fics in the same day? yes i did. i’ve had this done since one in the morning but didn’t want to post it them bc no one would see it by the time it was flushed out of the tag bc tumblr hates fic writers for real actually.

my friend booker is to blame for this. they mentioned this pair to me offhandedly but then i turned around and made this, and basically learned 2 things. 1) writing danny is fun, and 2) i have. a lot of feelings. about them.

while i have a couple of long pieces to finish, requests are still open, so if you liked this and would like smthn written, feel free to shoot me an ask!

likes < reblogs, any comments in the tags are appreciated

ao3 mirror in the reblogs!

Preview: “Tell you what.” He folded his arms over the top of the generator, looking the man in the face as he rested the side of his head against his forearm. “You’re still a noob, and I can’t be having anything fun with that. I’ll give you, hm… 10 seconds to run and hide, phone a friend, you know… not die, but after that, you’re all mine. Sound good?” The blonde remained silent, blinking at him in bewilderment. That was as good of an answer as any. “Alright. 10-” “Ah, wait, but what about-” “-9-” He didn’t say anything after that, dropping the wires in his hands and taking off into a sprint, stumbling as he stood to his full height - and oh boy, was he a tall guy - and turned a corner of old cars. Danny chuckled, standing up to rest his ass against the side of the gen, flipping his knife in his hand as he kept counting down. “8… 7… 6-5-4-3-2-1- ok, here we go.”

Another day, another trial. As the fog cleared from his vision, the Ghostface flipped his small knife in his hand, feeling the silent breeze whistle through the tendrils on his uniform. The Autohaven Wreckers was as sorry of a sight as it always was, but one that he’d grown quite accustomed to use as his playground. From the sight of the old garage, he could almost pick out memories of all the times he’d scared the pants off of the poor survivors, which he took more than enough pleasure in doing. Danny looked around, still absently flipping his knife in his hand as he formulated a plan, taking a brief moment to watch the ever-present moonlight glint off of the freshly cleaned blade before he looked up once more, a slow grin forming behind the mask as the game began.

 Poor Meg thought he was stupid, thinking she’d lost him at a simple enough loop around a pile of tires, all up until he pulled her off of her generator with a cackle (“screw you, creep” she said as she slammed her fists into the back of his shoulder - changed her tune real quick after he slid a hook into hers). Nea didn’t hesitate in giving him the runaround, powering a generator in his face and slamming a locker door into him for good measure. Danny knew the girl would throw a palette at him if she had the chance - she was the most fun to play with. But he soon lost her, so soon after catching her, but it was that detective asshole that ruined their fun, as he’d shone a damn flashlight in his eyes while he had Nea on his shoulder, finally, enough for her to wiggle free and run off again. And by the time his vision had cleared, the both of them had gone. Danny growled - as much as he enjoyed fun, it was only when he was winning was it any good.

 It was while he was stalking around the battered old killer shack looking for the bastard that he saw him for the first time. Blonde hair, broad shoulders, and a fancy suit that just screamed rich, with a touch of “please tear me off or splatter me in blood, both sound great”. A man he didn’t recognize, sat on a generator, eyes darting around as he worked the best he could with shaking hands, clearly on edge about being left on his own to work. Whatever annoyance he had in him melted like hot wax, as he approached, slowly, knowing this guy would be a wonderful victim to mess with. The killer’s fingers curled around the edge of the wall as he watched the man, the way he swallowed and sighed, muttering to himself in reassurance in a tongue that sounded familiar to him, too quiet to tell. The generator got louder and louder, its mechanisms and inner parts in tune as the man worked his magic, almost letting himself smile in triumph as he grabbed another wire.

“Hey there, handsome.”

A voice from behind his neck, raspy and deep, caused him to jump, a spark sending the generator into smoke as he turned, face going white as he pushed his back against the wall.

Oh, he was right. He was going to be fun, all right. Danny chuckled. “Oh, sorry. Did I scare you? Tend to do that. It’s in my… nature.”

The man swallowed, glancing around for any kind of help, seeming to find none as his attention turned back to the killed, speaking in a low, rich voice, though it shook from fear. “Don’t you have… things, to be stabbing?”

“Why, is that an invitation?” He laughed again, leaning up against the generator and crossing one leg over the other. “Nah, I’m just kiddin’. Ain’t it enough to get to know the new neighbours? Haven’t seen you around before, pretty boy. They smuggled you in, huh?”

“I… suppose.”

He hummed, tapping the blade of his knife against the metal of his knife, the clanging making the survivor jump. Oh, bless him - well and truly, it was a mistake for him to get caught up here… but a happy mistake, to be sure. “Got a name?”

“Huh?”

“Like I said, I like to know the neighbours, ya know… real close and personal. A preference. Bit of normalcy. Soooo…”

He remained silent. So he was a little bit smarter than what he’d look like, from the way he was shaking in his rich white boots. Impressive.

“Tell you what.” He folded his arms over the top of the generator, looking the man in the face as he rested the side of his head against his forearm. “You’re still a noob, and I can’t be having anything fun with that. I’ll give you, hm… 10 seconds to run and hide, phone a friend, you know… not die, but after that, you’re all mine. Sound good?”

The blonde remained silent, blinking at him in bewilderment. That was as good of an answer as any. 

“Alright. 10-”

“Ah, wait, but what about-”

“-9-”

He didn’t say anything after that, dropping the wires in his hands and taking off into a sprint, stumbling as he stood to his full height - and oh boy, was he a tall guy - and turned a corner of old cars.

Danny chuckled, standing up to rest his ass against the side of the gen, flipping his knife in his hand as he kept counting down. “8… 7… 6-5-4-3-2-1- ok, here we go.”

 Curious as it was, he lost the blonde beauty soon after he let him go, instead finding Meg oddly open about where she was, spriting right into his vision. Not that he was complaining; a game was a game, and if the runner decided that she wanted to play tag, then who was he to turn her down? Especially when she was so easy to catch… though as soon as she was hooked, flashlight clicking and Swedish profanities in his ear was enough to make him chase after Nea rather than go after his original chase once again… they were painting a target on their back, and for what? To save the new guy’s skin? He wasn’t an idiot. Just surprised that some of them had the compassion.

 Well, they managed to get another generator done, but the two girls were dead, and a soon injured Tapp was surely soon to follow them. A means to an end, it seemed, as his knife plunged into the detective’s side and sent him crashing into the dirt with a grunt of pain, rolling over onto his back with one eye open, the other wincing in pain, the shadow of the killer cast over him in the moonlight as he wiped his blade.

“OK, Detective, we’ll make this real nice and simple.” He crouched down next to the survivor, taking note of how the blood pooled around him as he laid on his back, staring up at him. “Tell me where your new friend is hiding, and I’ll let you live.”

Silence.

“C’mon, it’s not that hard of a choice to make. I’ve heard getting sacrificed is long and painful, like your insides are getting ripped at over and over again until, poof, you’re back again, at that cozy little campfire, only a little bit more traumatised to show for it. Now, you want that to happen to only one of you, or both of you, hm?”

Tapp looked away, seeming to ponder the possibility.

“Self-preservation instincts, Detective. I know you have them.” He tapped his knife into the dirt. Humans were fickle beings, easily swayed when their life was on the line.

The detective sighed, chest shaking from the strain. “Fine. I know where he’s hiding. But I can’t… breathe right, with a knife in my chest, so come a little closer.”

Danny blinked, but surely he didn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve, so he did as he was told, for once in his life, letting his mask get inches away. “Yes?”

A moment of silence, before there was a whisper in reply, backed by the assurance of an idiot who knew he was going to die regardless, as he spat blood pooling in his mouth onto the mask of the ghost almost pressed against his own. “Go fuck yourself.”

He was almost stunned at the bravado, leaning away with a chuckle, though he gritted his teeth through it. “Oh, you’re a funny man. Absolutely hilarious, you know that?” But still, that was as good of an affirmation of choice as he was going to get from someone so stubborn, so Danny grabbed him by the front of his vest and hoisted him up onto his shoulder.

 The screaming echoed as the heavens opened up, the Entity surely pleased with her feast for the evening, but he still wasn’t done… oh no, far from it. There was still one more handsome devil to track down. Danny rolled his neck, grinning at the gentle cracks from the strain, strolling more than hunting, at this point, for the well-kept survivor he didn’t know the name of, but was practically dying to know. He almost skipped up the crane, looking out of the window as Rapunzel did out of her tower window, before chuckling to himself and hoisting himself out. Danny tapped his blade against his hand, almost going to begin whistling if not for the angelic cries coming from the hill just close by. A grin overtook him, as he chased the calls of cherubs from the ground below.

 He slammed that hatch shut with a satisfied sigh, throwing his knife between his hands as he looked around and arched his neck for the doors. Normally the whelps would just give up at this point, but the guy was new, and probably didn’t know what was best for him. Still, the doors were easily within view, so if he made it out of this alive… well, he wouldn’t, so no promise needed to be made. The killer chuckled to himself, finally settling on wrapping his fingers around the handle of his blade, curling one by one, slowly and deliberately for no one in particular, before setting off to take part in the real game that had begun.

 He had no idea how he did it. Perhaps Danny had become too complacent in his work. But that handsome devil slipped past him more than once, enough for him to open up a gate and tiptoe his nice ass into certain safety. The survivor stared at him from inside the gate as he walked past in bewilderment, shaking like a dog in the rain that was just waiting to be gutted, battered old medkit in hand. And while he was stunned, the man swallowed, nodded, and left the trial head high, descending back into the fog as it began to consume the old gas station, leaving Danny to stare into darkness, barely blinking.

 Well, that was interesting, wasn’t it?

—

His name was Felix, he’d learned from the pig in the meat plant, having overheard it while she watched him blow the generator out by accident and got cursed out by the familiar bane-of-their-existence Swede. German, from the way he’d spoken to Danny by the generator in their first encounter, high up on the social ladder from the way he dressed (unless he’d gotten all dressed up just to see him? Funny, that would be, but very unlikely), shaken by the fog and with a disposition not unlike a lost dog. 

 And yet, despite his nerves and cluelessness to the fog, he always seemed to escape him. He didn’t know how he did it, but from finding hatch to evading the hooks, Felix somehow managed to keep him on his toes. Trials were somehow more exciting, knowing there was a challenge, and a chance to catch he who refused to be caught. Danny knew he was going to revel in the moment, when it eventually came - there was no way someone could be better than him, when he was so in his element.

So, after not seeing the man for the entire trial while hunting through the streets of Badham, catching him at the gate seemed like a dream come true. And he was none the wiser, as Danny quickly slammed his hand against the wall next to the lever, making him jump and freeze, pulling his hand away, two bright lights reflecting onto his face. “And so we meet again.”

“S-so we do.” He ran a hand through his hair before it found a place at the back of his neck, quietly taking a few steps back.

“Aht, aht. I wouldn’t run. I’ll just find you again anyways.”

He stopped. 

“...You know, I don’t quite know how you do it. It’s like you’re avoiding me on purpose.”

“That is… the point, is it not?”

“Oh, how rude- people come here to see me, surely. I’m a spectacle; call me a master at my craft.”

Felix chuckled - god, he chuckled, though it was riddled with nerves, but it most certainly happened, and sounded great - fiddling with the cufflinks on the sleeves of his suit jacket as his back straightened a little, as if flicking a switch to go from sorry sight to professional businessman. “Well, I… don’t suppose you’d be willing to show me why?”

He blinked. “Are you… flirting with me?”

“Am I?”

Danny wasn’t sure if the question was rhetorical or not, from the way he stood beside the lever at the gate, leaning a shoulder against the brick and folding his arms across his strong, broad chest (the way his shirt was unbuttoned just so was something Danny now noticed, and couldn’t stop noticing, barely tearing his eyes away to meet his gaze again) with an almost expectant look. “You’re... a weird one.”

“I… suppose so. Anyone normal would have ignored you and already run for their lives.”

The killer chuckled. “You’re not… entirely wrong. But I gotta say, I do like that. Among… other things.”

Though his eyes weren’t visible, it was as if the survivor knew exactly where he was looking, coughing and covering his mouth with the side of his fist. How cute was that?

He almost couldn’t contain himself. But he managed, somehow, not sure where this whole thing was going, but more than ready to go along for the ride. “Say… how far are you willing to ask that question, anyway? You really wanna know that bad, huh?”

Felix swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up again, with his piercing blue gaze, lips parting just so into a coy little smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Danny had never thought a man of such sophistication was willing to whore himself out for freedom, but sure enough, he himself opened the gate to let the German go, almost sad to see him leave (though it wouldn’t be for long), but very much enjoying the view.

 He paused. He was supposed to catch him and kill him, wasn’t he? Danny frowned, somewhat troubled, but tried to justify it as returning to old habits in Roseville, as he left the gate, and waited for the fog to consume him again, taking a seat just outside the battered old preschool.

—

It was like the attraction of magnets with twice the force as soon as they saw each other, wasting no time as suddenly Felix’s back was slammed into a tree, a loose and cold gloved hand finding its way up his shirt, sending a shiver up his spine for another reason as he felt lips hit his, with a hunger and desperation he was not expecting but certainly didn’t mind reciprocating, as Danny soon found out. And he wasn’t complaining; he was damn good, for a man with the disposition of a 40-year-old virgin, moving his hands to Danny’s wrist and placing his hand on his waist, which again, he did not mind at all, while the other was still halfway up his shirt. Let the man take the lead, at least for now, because it’s the only chance he’ll get to.

 Danny chuckled as a hand moved to grab his ass - quite the eager beaver, wasn’t he? He was practically purring as he pulled away, the survivor trying to follow him before reeling back as he moved to kissing up the side of his neck, listening close to the adorable little whimpers that came out of him as he squirmed in his grip. The killer then went to move his hand out from under Felix’s shirt, finally, casually undoing the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt one by one, taking the time to walk down his chest with his fingers and feel the shaking breaths of anticipation under his fingertips. Oh, the things he wanted to do-

 Distant voices were enough to make the survivor crack open an eye, pausing before he began to push the killer’s head off of his neck.

“Hey, hey,” Danny didn’t appreciate the interruption, moving to look up as Felix looked around, like a startled animal, though he still purred in the crudest fashion. “C’mon, buddy, I was just getting started.”

“Quiet.” His voice was low and commanding, still shaking from adrenaline.

And for whatever reason, Danny complied.

He swallowed, listening to the silence of the wind in the barrens of the fog-covered forest and there was another distant call, which upon hearing he began trying to wiggle out of the killer’s grip. “Off.”

“Why?”

“They’re looking for me-”

“And you don’t wanna be seen with me?” He gave a mock gasp of offence, though the grin that was slowly growing larger still remained on his face.“Oh, honey-”

“That’s exactly it. Move, please.”

That was enough to make Danny chuckle, squeezing his hips that he still held, enough to make him yelp a little. “Still so polite. If you want me to do somethin’, hon, you gotta be a little more, ah... demanding, yeah?”

Felix glared. “Alright. Get off. Now.” His voice had an annoyed growl to it, though his voice still cracked a little out of embarrassment, as he pushed down on Danny’s arms to let himself go.

“There it is.” And so he moved, standing back and sliding his hands into the pockets of his cloak. He watched the architect fiddle with the buttons on his shirt to redo them again, rushing to do so and messing it up a few times, mumbling to himself. “Need help?”

He glared again. 

Danny laughed, observing how he looked like a kicked puppy as he went back to fiddling with his shirt, pulling down his own mask again to hide what little of his face he had revealed. “You know, I think you’d look much better with it off.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, that’s not what you were saying with your eyes earlier-”

“You were a lot more tolerable when you were quiet.”

“‘Cos I never had a chance to speak, what, with you all over my mouth.” He shrugged as he spoke, as if it was a nonchalant fact, only smiling wider when he heard Felix try to stammer out a flustered reply, to no avail, choosing instead to simply huff and finish off the buttons on his shirt.

“Regardless, this affair is over.”

“Wait, hold on.”

“What?”

The killer moved his hands up to Felix’s neck, watching the man flinch and hold a breath with a soft chuckle, gently undoing a few of the top buttons that he’d redone. “You normally wear it like this.”

He gently touched at his collar, looking down at his fingers and then to the mask starring back at him. “And you’ve noticed?”

“Hard not to.” He shrugged, tugging at the shirt collar and going to fix up the waistcoat too before his hands were slapped away, which he held up in defence with a grin behind his mask. “So when are we doing this again, sunshine?”

The survivor moved away before he could’ve boxed in against the tree again, taking a few steps towards the direction of the campfire and the voices, though not too far as to disengage from the conversation, perhaps a little unsure how to. “You speak like this will be a regular affair.”

“Well, we had fun, ja?” 

“...Are you mocking me?”

“Not mocking, just… appreciating the culture.”

Felix started, smoothing down the arms of his suit jacket with a light scoff of disbelief. “Truly, you’re insufferable.”

“Can't say you didn’t enjoy yourself though, huh, mein Schatz?” He leaned his shoulder against the tree now, folding his arms across his chest, earning him a weak-hearted glare.

“Werde gefickt.”

“Gerne.”

Being outplayed in his own game of native tongues, somehow, Felix conceded, looking down at his cufflinks again. “You’re… not entirely wrong, so ...perhaps a name, so I can find you.”

“Oh, so now you want to know me? What happened to a one-time affair, sugar?” 

“When you’re so easy to please, I would be an idiot not to take advantage.”

Danny laughed, shrugging with no retort (though he was uncertain if hitting this pretty boy like a fish was just as good as getting in his pants… that much was yet to be determined). He soon trailed off, swallowing to himself, a lie escaping him as effortlessly as it had always done. “Jed Olsen.”

“Mr. Olsen…” Felix pondered for a moment. “...Ja, OK.”

—

So they’d been fooling around, yeah. Danny had always said he was willing to try it, should an idiot be brave enough, and if it was someone that wasn’t either Ace or David - he was a man with some standards, even with the blood on his hands - but never had he thought about it getting this far.

 The sun never rose or set, but people slept and woke as time passed, regardless of the light outside, and that was no exception here. If anything, it was the cold chill of Ormond that awoke him from sleep, though he’d grown complacent in it, realising the teens that called this shithole a home would probably evict him if he so much as dared to complain. Danny still grumbled, attempting to pull the scraps of the blanket over himself, but finding it unable to move. Turning over, he now heard the sound of gentle snoring, the body, next to him sometimes shuffling, but remained mostly motionless, aside from the movements of breathing from his chest. His latest fling, almost his newest obsession… god, he still looked perfect, even now, golden locks of hair falling out of form, the lighting of the shitty little cabin not enough to hide that perfect jawline tickled with stubble in all the right places, red marks down his neck and back from an encounter that had lead them right here, in the bed he was practically renting in the corner of the resort.

 They’d gotten a little adventurous, hadn't they? Banter in the trials was one thing, borderline voyeurism in the entity’s forest was another, but here? Letting himself be taken back to the realms to stay, where killers were not technically bound by rules of obedience, with Danny of all killers, a man who loved to bend the rules? Felix Richter was a smart man, that much he knew, but by god was he stupid. Maybe he thought there was a good man still in there, in the Ghostface. Well, that was his mistake; it was almost cute for him to still hold out hope though, regardless of how much disappointment was awaiting him down the road. Danny gently ran fingertips along the sleeping man’s arm, feeling the soft skin underneath his touch, smiling despite himself, only pausing at the gentle stirring he caused, practically freezing with his hand in the air as the architect moved, and slowly opened his eyes, sleepily smiling.

“Good morning.”

“...Hi,” he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, letting his hand fall into the space between them. “Hardly mornin’, but sure.”

“Close enough.”

“Sure.”

There was a soft, amused hum from the other man, adjusting his position a little to better face him, hair falling out of place just so, like some disheveled Ken doll. “I would ask if you slept well, but-”

“Oh, very well, thanks to you. Really outdid yourself this time; I gotta say, that was almost the most fun I’ve had since I got here… or maybe even before-”

A light shove to his chest made him stop and laugh a little, feeling the slight coldness of metal from a family ring against one pec, and almost wanting the light touch of his hand to remain there, before it hit the mattress with a thump, dangerously close to Danny’s. “You’re a funny one, Mr. Olsen.”

He sat up, resting an elbow on the stained old pillow and holding his cheek with the corresponding hand, raising an eyebrow. “Thought you liked me better when I was quieter?”

Felix stared at him with those perfect eyes of his, and he laughed - like audible silk it was, smooth and defined, with a sleepy smile and everything - adjusting himself with a hand under his pillow. “Sometimes. Sometimes I like to hear you.”

“Glad to hear it. I’ve been told it’s my best quality.”

“Hmm. Is it how you make jokes to deflect, or how you talk out of your ass?”

“...Well, hey now, Princess, ouch-”

As he tried to defend himself, the survivor smirked, somehow braver here than anywhere else (and it wasn’t his persona), quipping back to match him, and as he was talking, Danny paused, watching the way his eyes diverted and how his mouth moved, how he talked with his body and the way he smiled and waiting for a small hum in response, and how Danny liked the way his name sounded coming from his mouth, even if it wasn’t entirely the true one. Almost made him wonder what the real thing would sound like… no, that was too much, right? Couldn’t get attached. He wasn’t attached, was he?

 Couldn’t hurt to wait a little more to think on that, before escorting this pretty little thing back to the campfire.

—

So he was thinking about Felix a lot more than was normal for an obsession of his. What started off as a vengeful curiosity had morphed into something else, something so ugly yet so beautiful, foreign to Danny in recent years, or perhaps his entire life. Was this how high school girls felt, chasing after the jocks for a chance to get them off, and maybe start a high school whirlwind romance? Well, he certainly wasn’t a prepubescent cheerleader, but the survivor that had caught his attention seemed just like the squeaky clean Prince Charming that girls drooled over.

 And he couldn’t have that. Not at all.

 The fog cleared out of his vision slowly, and he opened his eyes, almost rolling them as the field of corn came into view. Coldwind - the rotten fields, it looked like, from the wide expanse of produce hiding his vision. Despite the cards not being in his favour, a game could still be played here, if he played his hand, carefully. And he was planning to. He’d let himself get distracted. But not again.

 Getting back into the routine of the hunt was like sliding into a comfortable sweater, blood shedding with no tear from him. Laurie was always a thrilling chase, her determination being almost cute. Quentin was similar, though the boy with insomnia had a lot less appeal than the virgin final girl, to be sure. David, of course, was David - loud, frustrating to deal with, and incredibly annoying. And… Felix. He knew how he felt about Felix already.

 As well as he tried to play it, this time, the game was not in his favour, and quite quickly generators across the field were powered, with only a few hooks under his belt. Getting to a gate, it was already beginning to open, three of them already filing into the funnel of the exit. But Felix, he was lagging behind, and without thinking, Danny took a swipe...

 ...No one escaped death. Not even the man he may have fallen for.

 As he wiped the blood from his blade with a gloved hand closed around it, he watched the architect grasp at his side and stumble, leaning a shoulder up against a wooden wall for support.

“Go.” He called to the woman in the blue shirt, standing at the gate.

“Felix, we can’t-”

“I said go, Laurie!”

She gritted her teeth and went to ignore him, running back into the cornfield, but a grip and pull on her arm from David stopped her, as much as she tried to fight against it. Quentin was the last to leave, watching the two of them for a moment before he swallowed, and chased after them, a medkit in hand.

 “Alone time, eh? Hon, we’re on a time limit here-”

“Just get it done.”

Danny tried to laugh. But it didn’t… feel right, somehow, even if it was the same as it always had been. As Felix leaned against a wall to support himself and slid down, knees buckling underneath him, he crouched down to meet him. “I dunno… no fun when they don’t squirm, you know?”

“...Jed-”

“Danny.”

He paused. “What?”

“It’s Danny Johnson. My name, I mean. I lied, when we first met. ...Surprise!” Knife still gripped, he tried to do a small jazz hands movement, though it seemed a fall flat. Only hurt more with what came next.

“...I figured as much.”

“Oh yeah? And why’d you set yourself up for failure like that, sunshine?”

“Because… I don’t know. I thought you were like me.”

The killer deflated a little, tilting his head to one side.

“I… maybe, I thought you were playing something up. I always felt… something else, there. Maybe something even you didn’t know about. Under all that ego, Mr Ol- ...Mr. Johnson, there was a man who cared, once.”

He tapped the blade of his knife against the floor. “...Maybe. I dunno.”

“Do you think he’s still in there?”

Danny didn’t reply right away, dragging his blade through the dirt by his feet absentmindedly. He didn’t entirely know, at this point. Normally this would have been the end of their little game - it was over, he had caught him and won - but something was stopping him. The ground shook, reminding him of that first moment where this fascination had started to plague him. “...You’ve done something to me, Felix.”

He hummed, trying to shift where he sat, holding his side where the blood had stained his very nice suit. “Have I?”

“Must have done. Because this isn’t as fun as I thought it would be.”

“That’s the reality of most things, I’m afraid.”

“I hate it.”

The survivor almost laughed, though it was pained and strained, clearly struggling… but was the sliver of it that made it, that small smile on his stupid, perfect face - that was enough, it seemed, to make Danny smile too.

He pulled up his mask entirely, tugging down his hood and fixing his hair with a quick ruffle, feeling the cloth tendrils on his sleeves whip behind him from the movement. The killer took a second to stare at Felix in front of him, before he moved his hand up to his face, watching him flinch. “Hey- relax, baby, I’m not gonna hurt you yet.”

“Yet.”

Danny hummed, cupping his face and wiping away the blood starting to dribble out of his mouth with a finger. “There. You’re a messy little boy, aint’cha?”

A cough, more blood involuntarily spilling out from his mouth now, this time splashing onto his shirt and the front of Danny’s suit. “My apologies. I’ll make sure to bleed less next time you stab me.”

“‘Ppreciate it, babes.”

Though he thought the man would shove him away, he instead seemed to lean into the touch, moving a hand to hold onto Danny’s wrist. “You still smell like cheap cologne.”

“It’s the only thing they sent me here with. ‘Sides, your scent goes away after a while.”

“Gross.”

“The one and only.”

And despite his small smile, of both annoyance and amusement, the third overwhelming emotion behind his eyes was that of sadness. The ground shook around them, but they didn’t seem to care, not until Danny moved his hand away and stood to his feet again, grabbing his knife from the floor and wiping the dirt off of the blade on his thigh.

 “Is this it, then?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“...It was fun.”

“Oh yes, it was.” He looked down at his knife, pressing the tip of the blade against his finger and twisting it, the moonlight and bleeding of the ground catching the light of the metal. “...For what it’s worth? You were close.”

“Close to what?”

“Makin’ me a person. Ya know, not a prick, like… an actual loser, with empathy. Almost had me for a sec, hot stuff.”

“Is that why you’re stopping this? Are you scared?”

Danny swallowed down a reply. He took a moment to look down at Felix, who’s eyes had followed him the entire time, making a small ‘call me’ sign with his free hand and forcing a smirk. “If you ever decide you wanna make a mistake again, you’ll know where to find me.”

“...Goodbye, Danny.”

He walked off into the corn, not wanting to see the way those blue eyes stared at him anymore, only stopping at the pained screaming that followed. The shaking of the ground had stopped now. She had come to feast.

 As he stood in the middle of cornfield, he looked up at the sky of the farm, overcast and grey, tendrils of the Entity reaching down to claim her prize, and fog swirling around him to take him back, to lay in wait, until the next time.

 He was right. His name did sound nice coming out of Felix’s mouth. 

[pinkykitten]

Forest pt. 1

 Castlevania 

Alucard Tepes x female! reader

Warning: cursing, violence, gore, mentions of blood

Specifics: chapter fic, romance, angst, fluff, not requested, action, adventure, race neutral reader, human reader

People: alucard tepes, monster thingy from the show

Words: 3,338

Summary: Since Alucard lives in the forest now in Dracula’s castle he meets the reader in the forest and in that moment he starts to have a liking towards her and is very bashful, blushy and romantic towards her and she is a goofball and is very silly and lighthearted. From the moment that they met all Alucard wants to do is protect the reader no matter what is takes. 

Authors Note: god alucard is so sexy and so beautiful like god dang! lol sorry im a bit of a horny nerd. anywho its rlly late where im at andddddd i cant go to sleep cuz i slept the whole day so ayyyee. anywho i was inspired idk where but i was inspired to write this bc i think alucard deserves love and someone who adores him like i do. i loved writing this tho and rlly want to write for castlevania more but this is going to be chapters idk how many yet lets just see where the wind takes us i hate planning anyways. IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS THO I AINT EVEN MAD ABOUT IT!!!!! LIKE YASSSSSSSSSS

“Alright so its been almost a month and I haven’t died. That must mean I’m doing something right.” You used a piece of wood you made into a cane to help you get up the steep hills. You were voyaging alone in the forest. You had a family that were settled more outside the town that you lived near. You were a large family and your siblings came down with a sickness. You were determined to find a cure and determined to find medicine for them. As scary as it may have seemed you needed to put on a brave face for the dangers that lay out ahead. You knew those monsters walked around and as much as that terrified you, your siblings came first. At a young age, adventure excited you and you always wanted to prove to yourself and family that you were more than capable of doing things alone. 

You saw a river down below. The water rushing past rocks made you relaxed and with a glint in your eyes you smiled. “Aha!” You looked left and right, seeing if anyone was present. “Alone with just the woods and me. I knew mother was wrong. I can very much so take care of myself.” You threw your satchel on the floor alongside with your clothes. “I smell like a pig.” You chuckled at your joke. The cool, clear water was down below as you ran to it, looking forward to the coldness and the feeling of being clean. You jumped in not knowing someone was near. 

You dunked your face laughing. “And there’s fish!” You swam behind a light blue fish. Being at awe when you saw the way the fins shone from the sun. You picked it up skillfully and carefully you set it free. Your body delicately floated. “This is the life.” Birds chirped, the wind blew like a whisper against your cheek. 

But suddenly, the rustle of the trees alarmed you. You heard the snapping of a twig. Your head snapped to the noise. Fear bubbled inside you as you thought of all the possibilities. What if it was a bear? What if it were those monsters? Your heart sped fast as you backed out of the river. Your breathing was faster. You needed to get out of here. As you got out your back hit against fur. You quickly turned around as saw a huge demon, monster, you didn’t even know what but you knew it was from Dracula’s army. Its teeth were sharp and its eyes were bright and red. It was your worst nightmare. You erupted a scream as you sprinted around it, climbing the hill to where your satchel laid. 

“Oh my God! Oh my God! I’m gonna die!” You didn’t care about your nudeness, all that mattered to you was surviving. You tried to go as fast as possible but the creature landed in front of you, stopping you from escaping. It cornered you against a huge boulder and tree. With everything you had you lifted your cane high in the air and hit the monster. It didn’t even flinch. 

“What?” Your eyes widened in horror. The creature picked you up as if you weighed nothing and threw you against a tree. You cried out in pain as your back burned and ached to an extreme level. You then noticed that a tree branch stabbed right through your shoulder. The blood dripped down your arm onto your naked skin. You felt queasy and weak. Thoughts and last words echoed through your mind. The monster was about to devour you but a flash of blonde hair came into your vision and you saw, him.

This young man was nothing you’ve ever seen before. He was stronger than the average person, throwing the monster back and forth. He punched it high in the air and then threw it against the boulder. He was incredible. Full of power. Your eyes were starting to close and your vision grew blurry as the last thing you saw were the fangs that the man displayed. 

“Mother I had this terrible dream!” Your whole body shot up. That was a terrible decision as you winced in pain. “It was not a dream.” You breathed hard as you took in your surroundings. The fire was lit making the room comfortable as you were once shivering from being wet. It looked as if you were in the kitchen of somebody's house. “Hello?” Your throat was dry. You were in a stranger’s house. You were in a stranger’s house! “Oh dear.”  You were put high onto a table. You jumped off but were still too weak. You landed hard on your knees but caught yourself with your arms. Your shoulder pounding in pain. You became dizzy. You heard footsteps nearing. “Who are you?” You tried to stand up again but slipped into the arms of a man. 

“Hold on. You are still not well.” His voice came out almost like a whisper. He picked you up and sat you back on the table. “Also, I’m the man who saved your life.”

“That was you? That was, um, pretty amazing.” You curled into yourself. You were nervous around this man. He intimidated you and made you feel shy. He was very handsome and charming. “You kicked that things as* real good.”

The man chuckled, “thank you.”

You quickly looked at your nightgown. It was too big for you as the sleeves ate your arms and the collar was off the shoulders. Your eyes shot open. You were bashful. “Did you, um, see anything?”

He looked away, “I kinda had to. Sorry. You were naked when I saved you.”

“Great. That’s great,” you inhaled clapping your hands. Suddenly you sensed a throbbing pain on your shoulder and you looked to see a blood stain on the nightgown. “Um excuse me sir. Is that supposed to happen?”

The man looked worried as he laid you back down and pulled the nightgown down enough to see your shoulder. “It does not look good. It seems with that jump you reopened the stitches.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. God, this really hurts.”

He got to work on doing your stitches again as he got his items. “Bite down on this.” He opened his mouth to show the action and you saw his teeth. 

“Agh please don’t eat me! You’re a vampire aren’t you?” You flinched away. 

The man rolled his eyes as he shoved the cloth in your mouth but before he got started on you he said, “You are right. I am a vampire.”

You spat the cloth out, “I knew it. I also would like to know your name as this may be my last moment and I would like to remember who will either save me or take my life. My name is y/n l/n.”

“The names Alucard Tepes and this is going to sting a little.” With that Alucard poured some alcohol on your wounds. (im sorry i dont know how helping ppl w medical stuff works :( 

You shifted and tried pouncing up, fighting the urge to let out a blood curdling scream. But Alucard pushed you down with his hands, shushing you gently. “I know, this hurts.” You could almost sense some love and actual concern in his voice. His brows knitted, “I promise, you are almost finished.” 

You looked deep into Alucard’s eyes. They were the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. This man or vampire looked unreal. He looked made up, something from stories you read as a child, like a prince. You felt something go off within you. Not knowing if it was lust or something else but a fire erupted inside your soul as Alucard’s face inched closer to yours to get to work on your shoulder. His smell was intoxicating. Almost like a musk but yet something floral, fresh, mixed in. Your heart thumped faster at the contact. 

His plump lips quivered as they looked at your state. No way did he want this innocent soul as beautiful as you looked dying on his table. He already had to deal with a lot recently. He didn’t know why or understand but he had this inclination, this feeling, that he needed to keep you alive. He just had to. 

Unable to keep the scream at bay no more you let it out. Your veins protruding from your neck as you became dizzy and once again passed out.

Your eyes opened. Your body was aching. It felt like it went through war. You inhaled as you looked around again, but this time you were hoping things were not a dream as then Alucard would be fake. Remembering his name your head whipped to the side to see Alucard holding a wash cloth stained with blood. He was sound asleep. His head resting against his arm against the table. All the medical stuff was out and about as if he were still working on you. His back was arched at a odd position. 

“He must of fallen asleep while working on me,” you whispered to yourself. His hair sprayed out on his shoulders and table. Without a second thought you touched his hair lightly and you were shocked. It felt like silk upon your fingers! His golden eye lashes kissed his cheek as he snoozed so peacefully. You felt bad leaving him to worry for you and to be sleeping in an uncomfortable place. You felt you weren’t that deserving of such treatment.

You kicked your feet out and hopped off the table. Your feet pattered against the hard floor as you walked to Alucard. You snatched him a blanket you saw nearby and draped it over his tall, lean body. You smiled seeing how elegant and graceful he looked sleeping. 

You yawned, scratching your head as you looked upon the window and noticed it was raining. Surprisingly in this vampire but also a stranger’s house the rain seemed cozy and it made you feel at peace. It was dark in his house. The trees shook from the tiny wind and rain. 

“I must leave but I should thank Alucard for helping me with my wound last night. I probably wouldn’t have last without him.” Your mind wondered back to what happened at the river. Yes, Dracula was gone according to what the towns people said but why was his army still about, his monsters? It didn’t make sense to you. But what did you know? You were just a weak human living in a mysterious world you didn’t want any part of. 

You pulled out a chair and got to writing a thank you letter to Alucard, pulling out a pen, ink and a piece of paper.

“Dear Alucard. No, too direct. How about, to a savior? Too high and mighty.” Finally you had written your letter but it sounded very awkward and you were too much of a p*ssy to give it to Alucard. “Ugh this is hopeless.” You crumpled up the paper, throwing it on the floor by the garbage. 

You thought and thought and thought until an idea popped in your mind. “I know,” you snapped. “I’ll make him breakfast. My mother always says a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” You crossed your fingers, “lets just hope this man likes human food instead of hearts and blood.” You gulped. 

You rolled your sleeves up, washed your hands and brought out the pots and pans and butter. “I’m going to make toast, eggs, bacon, beans and mushrooms.”

You spiced up the food and placed them in a skillet. The sizzle satisfying your ears. The sun started to peak through the clouds as the aroma wafted through the house. You grinned, loving to cook and make a person happy with your hard work. “I hope he likes this.” You were almost finished when Alucard coughed behind you. 

You jumped, being in the zone. “Oh hi there,” you waved awkwardly. “My apologies if I woke you.”

“Uh, no I woke myself up,” his rough voice made your knees weak as it was still laced with sleep. He stretched, cracking some knuckles, yawning as well. “What I would like to know is what are you doing?”

“Well,” you started setting up the table cutely. “I wanted to say thanks for helping me back there. I was kind of a p*ssy to be honest and like a wuss so this is just a little thanks for all the help.”

Alucard didn’t know what to say so instead he just smiled. 

“Please, sit, sit, sit,” you pointed to the seats. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

Alucard awkwardly sat. Not ever having this type of service. He looked at you as you were preparing the finishing steps of your dish. The sun cascaded around you and you were illuminated like a goddess. You were breathtaking. Alucard blushed madly. You put everything on the table. Seeing Alucard’s expression you laughed, “are you alright?”

Alucard coughed, “yes, thank you for all of this. You really didn’t need to. It all looks beautiful.” He looked at the presentation. 

You took the seat beside Alucard. You could of sat anywhere else but you sat beside him. He almost couldn’t hear what you were about to say in that moment from how hard his heart was beating.  

“No need to thank me. I think we’ve done enough thanking and now its time to dig in.” You patted his hand. 

Alucard just looked at the food and he almost felt tears at his eyes. Nobody ever cared for him like this. 

“Is it okay? If its not to your liking I totally get it. You don’t have to eat it. I don’t even know if you like this stuff. I mean who knows maybe you only eat flowers and here I am serving you bacon and eggs.” You became flustered. 

“No, no, no this is lovely its just,” he choked back a cry. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me, ever.”

You clutched onto his hand and gave him a beautiful smile. “Then that just means you have to eat double. As much and maybe more than what your stomach can hold.” You giggled.

Alucard blushed again as he started to eat quickly. Enjoying every moment of your company and food. “The beans are delicious.”

“Well I’m glad you liked them. Its my mum’s recipe, she always makes them like this.” You then recalled why you came on this journey in the first place. “My satchel!”

“Don’t worry, its safe.”

You raised your brow, “did you take a look?”

Alucard paused, “no, I would never.” He took a bite out of his bread. Chewing on the piece silently. “Maybe just a tiny peek.”

You pouted, “Nosy. I should of locked it.”

“Why do you have all those books in your bag anyways?” Alucard crossed his legs as he took a sip of his coffee. His light orbs staring intently at you. 

Seeing the rain start to become tiny droplets of rain you thought about your family and how you missed them. This was all for them. “My siblings you see are very ill,” your hand shook with anxiety. “My village is very poor and we are limited in resources, especially medicine. We’ve tried everything and nothing seems to work. They just seem to be getting worse. I’ve been researching and trying to find an answer and supposedly, I read that there is a certain flower that only grows in a specific area that may cure the illness. In the books there is a map and that’s why I was led to that river well more like I wanted to take a bath and that’s what led me to the river. But I’ve been on this trail for a while. I’m just, scared because it all depends on me. If I can’t find this flower, if I can’t find a cure and my family dies it will be my fault. I would have killed them.” You didn’t even realize it but you were crying. 

Alucard saw you were distressed and held onto your hand. He comforted you through your anxiety. Your teary eyes looked into his and he gave you a toothy smile, “I’ll help you find it.”

“What?” You rubbed your eyes.

“I know the place you need to go. I can guide you there. Besides the outside world is very dangerous for a beautiful girl such as yourself. I can see that this means a lot to you and I want to help.”

You dropped your fork and got out of your chair. “You mean it? You aren’t joking?”

Alucard chuckled, “I promise I am speaking truth.” Alucard flung his hand out to you. 

You quickly shook on it and shouted with enthusiasm, “deal!” You jumped up and down laughing as you hugged Alucard. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Can we please leave immediately then?”

“We can leave today.”

You danced, “yes. I’ll go change and get my things.” You brought the empty dishes to clean them as Alucard stood up with a smile on his face. 

You were something else, something different. A breath of fresh air in his depressing life. Maybe you were meant to be here. Maybe you were a sign. Either way Alucard thought that these couple of days were to be very exciting. Alucard was about to get ready when a piece of paper in the corner caught his eyes. It was crumbled. “Hmmm, what is this?” He bent down to pick it up and read the words. With just the first word to the letter his smile grew bigger and bigger. 

Alucard coughed as he raised the letter you wrote to him earlier but discarded high in the air, “Dear Alucard, to my savior. I would love for you to know that I am extremely appreciative for what you have done for me in saving my life-”

Your eyes almost popped out of your head. That letter was not supposed to be read by him especially. It was embarrassing. You dropped a plate in the sink and felt your whole world collapse. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die. 

“When I first saw you I thought you were a prince-” Alucard kept going until you couldn’t take it any longer. 

You sprinted and tried grabbing the letter out of his hand. “Alucard, give that to me. Now.”

“Oh you want this letter?” Alucard smirked. “You do sound like an obnoxious romantic whore.”

You gasped, “I do not! That was supposed to be my thank you letter and I didn’t like it and you weren’t supposed to read it. So give it back!” You jumped for it but Alucard raised it high in the air. “Alucard, give it to me.”

Alucard’s face came closer to yours as he pinned you against the table. “Why don’t you come and get it?”

You practically climbed him, snatching the letter out of his hand. “Aha!” But Alucard’s footing was off and he and you fell with a thud. 

The birds chirped lightly as Alucard laid under you and you fell on top of him, your arm bracing for the impact. Alucard held in his breath with a red blush as he looked at you so extremely close. You both held that position for what felt like forever. You eyes were wide in horror at the compromising position. 

You quickly stood up and were flustered. Forgetting where everything was. “Um, um, um. I’m going to go put my trip on so we can get ready for the clothes.” You quickly ran away. 

Alucard breathed quickly as he brushed back his long hair whispering the words. “My savior.” He noticed you were in such a panic mode that you forgot about your letter. It was left and Alucard was not going to leave or throw away evidence that someone saw him in such a good light. He loved that letter because it was from you. 

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[theemptyquarto]

Abandoned WIPs

for @goodintentionswipfest

“Oh my God, that was, like, the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”

That was the first thing she ever said to him.

~

Victor Trevor, the bastard, had dragged him out of the lab, then made him drive a car full of giggling idiots for three hours to Swanage, then had abandoned him to get drunk with additional idiots from Birmingham who had driven even further.  And now one of the idiots from Birmingham, the American girl with too much hair, was criticizing his stone skimming abilities.  

“I’d like to see you do any better,” he said, shortly.

The girl raised her eyebrows and made a face at him, then went to look for a stone of her own.  

“The water is too turbulent here,” he said.

The girl kept looking, until she found a smooth white stone, really too large for the purpose, being almost the size of her palm.

“It calls for a calmer day than this,” he said.

Then the girl drew back her arm and lobbed the stone, which skimmed perfectly, touching the water five times before sinking into the water of the bay.  Because of course it did.

“If you want to skip rocks in this kind of water you need to pick a bigger one and kind of… loft it over the breakwater.  Just like that,” she said, waving vaguely at the sea.

“Skim stones.”

“What?”

“Here we call it skimming stones.  Not skipping rocks.”

“And it’s pech blini in Russia and hacer ranitas in Spain.  We didn’t pitch your tea into Boston Harbor just to keep doing everything the same way you did.”

The words were bellicose but for once he was able to pick up on the tone, and when he looked through the ringlets that the breeze was blowing into her face, he could see that she was pinching her lips together to keep from smiling.

“I remember,” he said, slowly, “The great skimming stones debate that provoked the revolution.  We learnt all about it at school.  That’s why we burnt down your White House.  That and your willful mispronunciation of aluminium.”

The girl burbled a laugh, and it was not as unpleasant as it mostly was when girls laughed.  The “with” not “at” made all the difference.

Because he was eighteen years old and still desperately trying to pass for normal, Sherlock said, “I’m Will.”

She was twenty-one, and Mary Morstan and the rest of her pseudonyms were well into the future.  So because it was the simple truth, she said, “I’m Rose.  Nice to meet you, Will.  I can teach you how to skip rocks properly if you want.  Though it’ll wreck your attempt to look all Byronic and interesting.”

Sherlock frowned, though he wasn’t quite sure what Byronic meant, honestly.  “I wasn’t trying to look like anything.”

“Oh come on.  Alone, staring out over the sunset sea, the wind ruffling your hair.  Very ‘Adieu, Adieu, my native shore.’”

“This is my native shore, I just wanted to look at the tide pools.  Anyway, why are you here?”

“I,” she said, grandly, “Am way too close to shitfaced and I need to take a break for an hour.  And I thought you looked Byronic and interesting.  Where are there tide pools?”

He angled his head to their right.  “Back that way.  Maybe half a mile.”

“Let’s go see them!”

“I’ve seen them.  And you aren’t wearing the appropriate shoes for climbing.”

Rose looked down at her cheap flip-flops, shrugged, and said, “God hates a coward.  Come on.”

~

They’d looked at the tide pools, and Rose hadn’t complained as they scrabbled over rough Purbeck stone to get to them.  Being a small woman, she’d asked for a hand up on two occasions, but she didn’t complain, and she was genuinely interested in the sea slugs and anemones they found.

Then they’d moved on to another section of swimming beach, and now she was trying to teach him to skip rocks.

“Oh!  You almost had that one,” she exclaimed, as his latest effort sank.

“What sort of trajectory am I trying for?” he asked.  “It really isn’t obvious.”

“Ummmm…” and she pitched another stone, which made four hops before sinking.  “I mean, I guess, like fifteen or twenty degrees.  But it depends on the rock.”

“Well, that’s helpful.”

“You just take the rock and then you know how you have to throw it.  It’s mostly practice.”

“You’re very good at it.”

“It’s what I’m best at,” she said, and the next stone made six skips before it sank.  “You got a projectile and need it put someplace specific, I’m your girl.”

“Really?”

“Really.  What are you best at?”

He thought about it for a minute. 

“Deductions.  That’s what I’m best at.”

“Like… in geometry?  If AB equals BC then A equals C?”

“Sort of.  But it’s not just that.  I can do it for other things.  And people.”

“How?”

“Just like in geometry.  You use if-then logic and come to the appropriate conclusion.  Except most people aren’t aware of all of the givens, and I am.”

“O-kay,” she said, slowly, “So, like, what can you deduce about me?”

He cocked his head, doubtfully, and asked, “You want me to do that?”

Rose shrugged.  “Why not?  What have I got to hide?”

Sherlock wished he hadn’t mentioned it, now.  It would spoil what had been a surprisingly pleasant afternoon. She was only asking because she’d never seen him do it… nobody really wanted his deductions.  Everyone had something to hide.  

But she had asked and declining would be nearly as offensive, he supposed.  So he let himself really look.  Excessive dark-blonde hair, no jewelry, black midriff-baring top with thin straps and no bra (irrelevant, he chided himself), well-developed lean musculature particularly in the shoulders.  Mid-priced wide-legged flared jeans clumsily home-hemmed, since she fell between the “petite” and “regular” lengths.  He walked behind her, continuing his examination, and smiled.  The grey plaid flannel shirt she had knotted around her waist had a great deal of relevant information.  

Returning in front of her, he asked, “May I have a look at your hands?”  Rose complied, extending them forward, palms up.  Her hands, with their emerald-green fingernails and distinctive musculature, had almost everything else he thought he could get, except-

“And a better look at the tattoo, please?”

Rose smiled and raised an eyebrow at that, but complied, slipping a thumb under the waistband of her jeans and tugging them down another inch or two to reveal a small, stylized design of a leafless tree struck by lightning (and incidentally a crest of pale hipbone and just a flash of red plaid underwear).

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Entirely.”  And Sherlock was.  

“So what do you deduce?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.  You’re an American-“

“Well that was a toughie,” Rose teased.

“From Iowa.  You’re a natural linguist but you’re studying chemistry.  You played softball seriously, as a pitcher, until a rotator cuff injury which you opted not to have corrected bought your sporting ambitions to an end within the last year.  Upper middle class family, strict parents.  You currently live with a wire-haired terrier you dislike, you’re sentimental, and you’re a keen amateur cook.”

And that had done it, of course.  Her face, which had formerly seemed naturally happy, had closed off and become hostile.  She took a step away from him, and said, coldly, “Has Victor been talking about me behind my back?”

“You know Victor Trevor?” Sherlock asked.

“Everybody knows Victor.  Answer the question.”

“No, he hasn't. I told you.  I looked and I listened.  Teeth straightened in adolescence, a selection of newish mid-priced clothes, spending a semester abroad?  Well off but probably not rich family, then.  You know, at no notice, idiomatic phrases in two separate languages describing an unusual activity?  Clearly, there’s a gift for languages.  The mild splay of the fingers in your dominant hand and unusual muscular development in your shoulders, along with your obvious aptitude for throwing suggests softball and pitching.  The slight pull and hesitation when you draw that arm back would allow any doctor to diagnose a rotator cuff injury, a career-ending one without surgical correction, and yet you lack scars.  Thus softball is over.”

Rose cocked her head and looked at him, but at least the anger was gone.  So he continued.

“There’s particularly contoured dog hair common to wire-haired terriers on your jeans, meaning it’s fond of you, but none on your shirt, meaning you don’t pick it up, and you aren’t fond of it.”

“Marco’s a drooler and he scratches.  Anyway I’m more of a cat person.”

“Cats eat you after you’re dead.  They don’t even wait until they’re starving, just mildly peckish.”

“True, but on the other hand, I’m dead in this situation.  So who cares?”

Sherlock nodded slowly, “Very practical.  You’ve got enough minor knife and burn injuries to your hands to suggest you spend a lot of time cooking but your forearm development isn’t substantial enough to indicate professional work in the field.  I can tell you study chemistry because of the marks on your shirt.  They never properly clean the lab benches off and you lean into the edges and get some trace amounts of peroxide or acid on the material… which then produces distinctive straight lines of bleaching the next time the shirt is laundered.  I have some of the same ones, see?”

He gestured to his trousers, where the bleaching effect occurred on him, given his greater height.  

“Huh,” Rose said, “I never really thought about that.  So why Iowa?”

“Ah, I was right!”

“Not really.  Nebraska.  But just across the river from Iowa.”

Sherlock sighed.  “Accents are difficult with anyone young enough to have watched television as a child.   But the Iowa accent is marked by monopthongs and “T”-glottalization, and you have it.”

“I have no idea what those things are,” Rose said, musingly, “But since most people around here think New York and L.A. are the only two cities in America that’s actually really good.”

Sherlock felt the blood rushing to his face with pride, and so he kept on, “You’re sentimental because that flannel is battered and you’ve fixed three different tears rather than just discarding it, even though it was never terribly expensive.”

“I saw Nirvana in this shirt.”

Sherlock frowned, wondering if she meant she was Buddhist, and then recalled the band.

“That tattoo,” he wrapped up, “Is a Marius Cook, done about five months ago.  I’ve made a bit of a study of the major tattoo artists of the United Kingdom, you’d be surprised at how often it’s useful. You’ve been of legal age to get tattooed for some time but waited until you were well away from home and then did it instantly but kept it someplace easy to hide, thus: strict parents.”

~

It was dark, now, and someone had pulled out a guitar and was strumming amateurish chords.  Sherlock and Rose had looked at one another and, in a moment of pure intoxicated understanding

~

The semen had more or less dried on her thighs by the time Rose decided that Will wouldn’t be back, even to collect his shirt.  She sighed and rubbed her stubble-burned face.  Then she pulled on her underwear and jeans, and sat and looked up at the stars, which were slightly more mobile than they ought to have been.

She’d liked him.  He wasn’t handsome, but five years and twenty pounds of weight gain would probably have made him so.  And he was sweet.   Clumsy and inexperienced, yes, but intelligent and fun to talk with… essentially, she’d been very happy with the encounter and now she felt…

Cheap.  Which was undoubtedly what her mother would have said about anyone who fucked a man who she’d just met and was expecting to never see again.  So Rose had a bit of a self-pitying snivel, and cried about her troubles.

Eventually her natural good humor resurfaced (she had the beneficial confidence of someone who had taken a birth control pill every day for the last three years) and she said, smiling to herself, ��Jilted by a gentleman.  If I can get ruined and discarded by a redcoat I can  have my own Gothic novel.”

 She collected the blanket and Will’s shirt, then ambled back to the party, which was still in full swing, although the Oxford contingent seemed to have gone.  Her flatmate Magda spotted her and called out, “There you are, you whore.  Where’d tall dark and skinny run off to?”

“I think I frightened him away,” Rose replied, lightly, “English boys are all prudes.  Are there any more of those screwdrivers?”

Magda gestured wildly at the five gallon drinks cooler behind her.  “About half.”

“Good.  About half sounds just about right.”  And she wadded Will’s shirt up, tossed it into a nearby rubbish bin, and poured herself a drink.

~

They both forgot all about it.  The vodka helped Rose do a great deal of this within the first twenty-four hours.  Then there was the fact that Byronic-and-interesting Will was neither the first nor the last of a long string of men that would eventually span four continents, some of whom would disappoint her in far more spectacular fashion.  By the time she buried Rose and became Mary, she could skim stones without even vaguely recalling that summer afternoon.  

Sherlock didn’t forget much, and so deleting Rose took an effort of willpower.  He performed a few subsequent experiments with sex and came to the conclusion that it was unlikely to be productive of any good and indeed, subjected him to undesirable sentimentality.  Cocaine was a far more efficient euphoric and asked much less of him, in the end.  The choice to purge his files on the subject en masse was therefore simple logic and had nothing to do with wishing to shed the recollection of a callow, prematurely-ejaculating version of himself.  

When, much later, he plugged the memory stick marked AGRA into his laptop and began reading the files, the name Rose Addison didn’t stir even the faintest reminiscence.

~

“Oh no.  Oh my God, you’re-  You died!  You jumped off a roof!”

That was the first thing she ever said to him.

[offspring-of-calliope]

Peculiar (Newsies Fanfiction) - Chapter 1

Description: Jack Kelly is having a strange encounter on the street.

words: 1696

A/N: This AU was kinda inspired by Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, so it's basically that some of the Newsies, the Peculiars, have powers and all the Manhattan Newsies live with Medda in the Theatre. Then, there are also those who chase after Peculiars, the Collectors. I'm not quite sure where I want to go with this story bc initially, I only wanted to practice my 'English skills' (she said, sitting in front of her computer like: 'How to English?') and suddenly I had a whole AU in my head. So if you wish for certain scenes or something, you can put your wishes in the comments and I might comply. One thing I'm certain of, however, is my choice of main pairings: Javid and Sprace. But I might include other pairings as well.

I hope you enjoy.

Sincerely, me

Lélodie

-----

The sky was still being shadowed by dark clouds, even though the rain had stopped approximately three hours ago. Puddles decorated the streets which were filled with busy people, running back and forth while being indifferent to the world around them. And right among these apathetic businessmen, there was a vivid, excited boy, no older than seventeen – Jack Kelly.

The newspapers in his hand felt kind of damp to him but that didn't keep him from advertising news after news, praising the papers as if they were the most precious things on earth.

“Extra! Extra!” Jack cried, followed by made-up headlines nobody bothered to check when buying the paper. It was already late in the evening and most of the papers were sold by now. A little more time passed and eventually, there was only one paper left.

Jack, who did not seem to be quite satisfied with his day's pay, looked around the street until he suddenly caught sight of a well-dressed man who was heading towards his carriage. 'Well, that looks promising,' Jack thought, straightening his collar and making his way over to the man.

“Extra! Extra, good man! A whole factory going up in flames and -”, he began but the man interrupted him with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

“Move, boy. I do not have time for this nonsense.”

“Surely, you're a very important fella, dear sir, but if ya'd just buy a pape -”

The man looked at him in disgust. “I have no intention on doing business with a dirty little boy from the street.” With these words, he entered his carriage, leaving Jack standing like a fool on the street.

“Whatever ya say, good fella, but I's by no means little, nor dirty! And I'd never do business with such an arrogant sucker either!” Jack didn't know why the words of the man had bothered him this much but it was probably because he was tired, exhausted and just wanted to return to the theatre to get a good night's sleep. He was going to continue his quest to sell the last paper when suddenly the carriage was set in motion, purposefully driving through a puddle on the ground so that a bunch of muddy water was being splashed all over him.

“Alright, you sucker, ya totally owe me a new shirt, this one's brand new!” He called after the disappearing carriage. “There goes a four month's pay,” he eventually mumbled, eyeing his body. The dirt felt familiar yet unpleasant on his skin. He hesitated. Next thing he knew, he was making his way towards the nearest dark alley he could find.

A considering look down the alley. Then, he let his powers do the work. A stream of clear water crawled along his arms, his neck, his face and was softly cleaning his body. Jack smiled as he navigated the cool stream, letting it embrace him like a safe blanket or the arms of a person that felt like home. For a short moment, he closed his eyes. Forgetting the world around him that only wanted to harm him and pushed him from one danger towards the next. Forgetting that he had to work under inhuman conditions, day after day. Forgetting everything. And for a short moment, he imagined being in Santa Fe, where everything would be okay.

Then, there came the self-satisfied laughter.

Startled, Jack opened his eyes and found himself faced with a big, bulky guy with crooked teeth and large ears. “Well, well, look what we have here. A Peculiar and a very precious one at that.” The guy held a club in his hands that he'd probably stolen from one of the policemen at some point. The self-satisfied laughter turned into a sinister smirk.

Abruptly, Jack stopped the flowing water and looked around him, searching for an escape route. But he was stuck in a cul-de-sac and the way back to the main street was blocked by Bulky Guy. “Yeah, well, what's it to you, man? You's gonna mind ya own business?” Trying to hide the nervousness that was burning him up from within, Jack settled for a daring grin.

“Oh, so you're a bigmouth, too, huh? This is gonna be so much fun.”

Jack saw the first blow coming. He lifted his arm to block it and stretched out his leg to kick Bulky Guy in the knee. The rest of the fight was kind of a blur to him. Every time it occurred to him that the opportunity to flee had come – Bulky Guy definitely had the upper hand -, his opponent seemed to be reading his mind and was once again blocking his path. Jack wasn't a fool. He knew that he was too tired to keep on for much longer and a little voice in his head was constantly persuading him into using his powers. But he did not dare.

Too clear was the memory of the last time he has used his powers against an actual person. The feeling of flooding another's lungs, more and more and more and more until they were drowning from within. Jack groaned. What in the world did he have to do to just be able to forget the Incident?

“Ready to give up yet, boy?” Bulky Guy asked, clearly enjoying himself.

“You wish,” Jack replied, ducking under yet another blow. His hands were sweaty, his ribs felt broken and the poor boy's head was spinning.

Then, a different voice pierced though the alley. “You there! Leave the boy in peace and get away from here as fast as you can.” Jack was aware of the fact that the newcomer was talking to Bulky Guy but his voice, this delicate, melodic voice was so inviting that his urge to escape from this alley was getting stronger as well.

Jack looked up, wanting to know how Bulky Guy would react, partly expecting him to just turn around and knock out the news guy. To his surprise, Bulky Guy nearly bowed down before the owner of the mystical voice, as if he wanted to apologize for being such a dick, and retreated without another word. Completely bewildered, Jack squinted at his saviour for the first time.

He was only an ordinary boy, as far as he could see. Black hair, worry in his eyes and overall a quite cute appearance. He seemed to be a bit perplexed as well because he solely stood there, at the entrance of the alley, his hands balled into fists, his gaze fixed on Jack.

Jack, who now had found his own voice again. “I guess a 'Thank You' might be appropriate in this situation. Free paper?” He nearly had forgotten the now not only damp but also slightly crumpled newspaper he had stuffed safely into his pocket at the beginning of the fight. He also didn't really care any more. He was too relieved. So he held the paper out to the guy who spared it not even a single glance. Jack was slightly offended.

“Oh my God,” the guy said, his voice softer and more down-to-earth than before. A friendly tone, yet no less beautiful. “I'm going to be in so much trouble now. What if he comes back and what if somebody tells Mama and Papa and why would I even – Oh no, and he is a stranger as well, why did I have to help a complete -”

“In my defence, I am quite a catch and I don't mind playin' damsel in distress, as long as a guy like you's gonna be my knight in shining armour,” Jack interrupted him, slowly getting bored because the guy was talking non-stop to himself instead of reacting to Jack's presence.

Cute Guy looked at him like he was crazy. “What are you talking about? I barely even did anything, to be honest, I was just passing by and saw how this guy attacked you and couldn't keep on walking as if nothing was going on. But it's not exactly my fault the guy went away, he was probably afraid I'd call the cops on him,” and there he was, rambling again.

“Sorry ta interrupt ya, pal, but we both know that he'd have knocked ya out in seconds. And for the record, we also both knows that what ya did there wasn't quite normal.” At least, that was Jack's assumption. It might have been a really big coincidence but his intuition told him that the boy in front of him might be a Peculiar as well. With a grand gesture, he took the guy's hand and put his last paper in it. “Like I said, thank ya. It's nice that our kind looks out for each other. Ya know that there's also others with powers, don't ya? You's not alone in this -”

“Again, I have no idea what you're talking about!” The voice of the boy was getting more tempting this time. He withdrew the hand that Jack still had clasped in his own, stuffed the paper in his bag and looked Jack straight in the eyes.

“Of course,” Jack mumbled, his mind suddenly clouded by something he could not comprehend. “I's sorry I's made such an accusation.”

“Thanks for the apology,” Cute Guy said, looking still a little panicked but in a strange way also satisfied. “It was nice to meet you.” He smiled a bit, then hurried off into what seemed to be a randomly picked direction.

“Wait!” Jack called out. The other guy stopped and glanced back at him in confusion. “The name's Jack Kelly. An' who are you?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?”, was the only answer he got before his saviour disappeared into the crowd.

Jack just stood there, dumbfounded. Then, after what seemed like half an eternity, he came back to himself. “Of course he has powers, that sucker,” he mumbled and swore to himself that he'd never fall for that persuading voice again. But to see if he could keep his promise, he had to find the mystery boy once more.

[poptod]

The One Time Debt was Good (Elliot Alderson x Reader)

Request: Hi there could you do an Elliot x reader where the reader gets liked fucked up or something and Elliot helping her clean up the cuts and blood and stuff (ok thanks bye have a nice day 💓)

Took me a bit but I finally finished it. I made it gender neutral bc that shit fucks. also, there’s a small paragraph of graphic injury description. part 2

He’d warned you about this, you knew that, and you knew you should’ve listened. He hardly ever warns you against anything, hardly ever tries to stop you from hurting yourself, so when for once he told you not to do something, of course you had to ignore his advice. The one time he tries to care about you, and you have to ignore it.

To be fair, with or without his input it was a bad idea. Mosh pits aren’t exactly the safest place, not for someone like you at least, especially metal mosh pits. You hadn’t expected this in any future vision, though; your clothes are almost completely torn off of you, shreds just barely covering your bruised, blood-drenched skin. Thankfully most of it wasn’t your blood - a fight broke out and you were pushed straight into the middle of it, so a good amount of it probably belonged to the very people who beat you to a pulp.

Your first thought, practically crawling out of the concert, was I should probably go to the hospital. A perfectly rational thought and a good idea, but you then remembered you’re still in debt from the last time you were at the hospital, and that was three years ago. Fortunately for you and unfortunately for Elliot (you assume, you don’t think he likes you very much) his apartment was closest to you, so gathering your shreds of humanity and the fifty-two cents in your pocket, you made your way to him.

Several people stared at you, several didn’t, and by the time you were knocking at his door you felt a little faint. Leaning on the wall, you barely raise your knuckles to rap at the door and within a few seconds you can hear his footsteps. A sigh leaves you, relaxed and anxious all at once - he’s comforting, at least he is to you, but again, he doesn’t like you very much.

Slowly the door creaks open, though it takes him a moment before he looks to his left to find you breathing heavy against the wall, dry blood flaking off your skin and sticking to the wall. He doesn’t say anything, of course he doesn’t, but he opens the door a little, and you walk in with a tiny ‘thank you.’

“I’m really sorry about this,” you manage to get out, your throat dry and horribly sore from screaming. “I would’ve gone to the hospital, but… you know. Can’t really afford that.” Vaguely he nods, not meeting your eye as you ask to use the shower. With his permission granted you wash the blood off yourself, the dirt and grime, noticing the splotches of red, yellow, and blue that are the permanent reminders of the night. The bruises practically coat your ribs - when you press down on them it hurts so badly you wonder if you broke something.

When you get out you hesitate to redress yourself, considering your clothes are still grimy and bloodied, but before you can even make a decision on what to do the bathroom door opens just a crack. One hand carrying a stack of clothes sneaks in, placing the clothes on the counter before quickly retreating behind the closing door.

This is exactly why I’ve got the stupidest crush in the universe, you think, groaning internally at yourself. These little moments, rare and far between, moments where he does something purely human, keep you around him. Grabbing the clothes, you pause for a moment, taking in the scent and softness before dressing yourself. There isn’t any underwear, which you should’ve expected, and any sane person would probably just wear their own underwear, but instead you go commando. In the foggy mirror you examine yourself in the baggy sweatshirt and pants, wondering how to go about thanking him.

Surprisingly, you have even less time to think about it than you thought, since as soon as you open the door he’s standing there. For a while he just stares at you, and you stare back, confused as to what he’s trying to achieve. Finally he opens his mouth, hesitant to speak but he eventually does.

“You’ve… got a thing.. down your back,” he says, which is confusing in itself. With a furrowed brow you walk back into the bathroom, taking the sweatshirt off and trying to look at your back in the mirror. Sure enough, there’s a massive cut down your spine, and it’s still bleeding a bit - it’s astounding you haven’t noticed it yet, considering just the sight of it makes you sick.

“Oh dear god,” you say, feeling the acidic burn in the back of your throat grow worse.

“Here,” he mumbles, managing to maneuver you while barely touching you so your face is to the mirror. “I can stitch you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you say quickly, your heart racing at the thought of stitches. You’ve gotten them before, but that was with an anesthetic, not straight out. In fear you whip around, hoping that’ll keep him and his needle away from your skin, but now you’re face to face with him and suddenly the needle seems friendlier. Your breath catches in time with his, the both of you frozen in the moment as you both try to decipher what’s happening. He stammers when he gains control of his body again, stepping back so his back is against the wall and he’s as far from you as possible.

“I have vodka,” he says, “if that’d make you feel better.”

“Yeah, that actually would,” you say with a sigh, relieved to be able to catch yourself as he leaves the bathroom. He returns a minute or so later, trying desperately not to stare at your naked torso. He unscrews the cap, and after you take a few gulps of the drink (which does nothing for your sore throat), he pours a little down into your cut. You wince, your grip on the sink tighter than your clenched teeth, a headache sprouting from the tension in your jaw.

“Ready?” He asks, looking at you over your shoulder through the mirror. You nod - you’re not going to get much more ready, so you might as well get it over with.

As the needle prods at your skin, poking into your flesh and sprouting little droplets of blood, you try not to think on the sensation. You try to think of anything, anything besides the cool metal pulling string through your back and tugging at your skin. Instead you focus on him, on his concentrated face; he’s biting at his cheek, his mouth opening to talk to himself in words you can’t hear.

It takes a shorter amount of time than you thought it did. The pain is now aching, spreading up your spine and into your head and down through your legs.

“I guess my skin must’ve snagged on someone’s spikes,” you groan hoarsely when he finishes up, tugging at your ripped skin as he tries to knot the string in place.

“I told you not to go,” he says, low and quiet, still not meeting your eye.

“Doesn’t matter now,” you say with a sigh, rubbing your side with your hand to massage the pain out, though it does very little. When you turn around he glances up at you, sparing just a second to watch you before leaving the bathroom.

Rubbing your face wearily you follow, your steps careful and slow as you try to put the sweatshirt back on. It proves a lot more difficult, what with the string preventing your skin from stretching, but you manage to get it on eventually. He’s in his kitchen filling a glass with water when you enter, and as usual he can’t stand to look at you.

“Thanks for patching me up, by the way,” you mumble, leaning against the counter with your hands gripping it tight, still trying to ignore the pain in your back and ache of your bruised legs and arms. He sets the glass down, and for a moment it looks as if he’s going to ignore you as usual, but he turns to you with pursed lips.

“Why do you do stuff that you know is going to hurt you?”

Your eyes widen at his straightforwardness, stuttering as you try to come up with a plausible answer. The only problem is you never even realized you do that, you never thought you were looking for pain, but when you look back at your past decisions it seems obvious. How long as he been putting up with your masochistic tendencies?

“I… I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I never realized that I do that.”

Your thoughts go back to when you were little - in your teenage years you had a history of self harm, but you never thought of it as a hatred thing. It was just another way to feel pain, another way to feel real in a world where so much is faux. The memory of a razor cutting your skin to shreds just to watch your blood drip freely from your hips and arms makes you curl in on yourself, something that Elliot notices.

“I think I need to sit down,” you say, your voice cracking with the lightheaded feeling swirling around you. He lets you sit on the couch before he speaks again, sitting on the couch with you but as far from you as he can.

“Take my advice, next time,” he tells you, crossing his legs.

“And for now?”

He doesn’t answer. The TV buzzes in your background as exhaustion takes its’ toll on you, the fight, the walk, and the cleaning up tiring every bone in your body. It doesn’t take long at all until you’re lying down, your eyes closed as you can’t bear to keep them open. You’re still conscious, still listening to the dialogue of a show you’ve never watched before and the typing on Elliot’s laptop. It’s not long at all till the typing stops, and he sets his computer down on the ground as quietly as possible. With the shuffling of clothes and footsteps, you hear him come closer, and the cushion your legs are resting on dips down.

A thousand thoughts run through your head, a hundred theories and at least fifty conspiracies tackle what in the world Elliot could be doing, but none of them lead to a satisfying answer. Then he’s touching you, something he never does, not unless he absolutely has to - and it’s surprisingly affectionate. You’re barely able to keep your breath under control as he brushes your hair back, fingers just barely skimming across from your temple to behind your ear. Clothes rustle again, and you can feel his heat right up against your cheek. Every single one of your thoughts is now focused on one thing: stay absolutely still.

Somehow you manage to do it, somehow you’re still breathing even with closed eyes, though you have no idea if there’s a prominent blush on your cheeks. You’d guess yes but he still hasn’t moved; he sounds like he’s muttering something, but even right next to your ear, the heat of his speech brushing your skin, you can’t pick out what exactly he’s saying.

He’s so close, so unbearably close that you can’t decipher just when his lips touch you - he’s been hovering over your temple so long that the difference between his heat and touch is thin. Sometime in there you realize he’s kissing you, one long, sweet kiss on your temple, and suddenly the entirety of the evening is something you know you’ll never forget.

The cushion resumes its’ given position as he stands, and the rustling of his clothes combined with the absence of his heat tells you he’s gone. With a buzz and a click, the hum of the television goes out, and Elliot retreats to his bedroom.

You fall asleep soon after, your dreams more pleasant than ever with the new revelation.

[nadisabug]

Title: Sick

Fandom: Danganronpa (SDR2) AU: post-simulation Warnings: disorientation and sickness A/N: okay so I've been super stressed with school, and all I can think about is what if Hajime is getting sick right and he tries to hide it because now hes in charge of the class and apart of the Future Foundation and he is really good at hiding it except nagito notices bc hes nagito and watches hajime closely and now its all i can think about here i go

^^^

Hajime felt awful.

He had been feeling really off for days now, but he brushed it aside. He had to, everyone relied on him. The only reason why they were allowed off the island in the first place was because Hajime convinced Makoto and the rest of the Future Foundation to allow them to move back to the mainland because staying on the island where everything happened would just be worse. Makoto knew Hajime was right, staying on the island was the worst thing that could happen to the students, he told Hajime himself that. But, the Future Foundation was nothing if not skeptical. They were not sure if the students were properly rehabilitated, seeing as they got all their memories back, so they still did not trust the so-called Remnants. Consequently, they were a lot of conditions associated with leaving the island and moving into their relatively nice place. All of which rested squarely on Hajime's shoulders.

One of them was the morning report to Makoto.

He had to report how everyone was doing, feeling, saying, and acting. They did have an assigned therapist that was required to meet with them biweekly, who had her own report, but they wanted an update from the supposed leader of the community as well. Hajime took this responsibility very seriously. Honestly, he had nothing else to offer. He couldn't make patrol groups to help keep the streets safe like Kuzuryu, Pekoyama, Owari, and Nidai, he couldn't help create relief packages like Teruteru, Soda, Tsumiki, and Tanaka, and he couldn't go out into the streets and inspire hope like Moida, Nevermind, Koizumi, and Saionji. He couldn't even just cycle through the three, like Komaeda did, lending his luck to all of the causes. He had a knack for finding out where trouble was occurring, adding personalized items to packages just right and relying on his luck to deliver it to the citizen who needed it most, and no matter how unnerving he could be, no one could deny his unwavering charisma and the faith and hope it inspired in the citizens. Hajime could do none of that. All he had were his supervision and regulatory jobs. So he committed himself to completing them to the best of his ability. He collected and documented everyone's reports flawlessly, he kept inventory and sent out refill requests before the other students knew they were running low on anything, and he never missed a morning report.

Until today. 

Hajime woke up groggily to the sound of his Comm beeping. His head was pounding, needles pressing into his temples, and he could feel the dull throb as his blood pumped through his exhausted body. The pain flared in rhythm with the beat, waves of pain rolling over his head as the pressure within felt like it was going to burst. He was about to chalk it up to the fact that he had gone to sleep at 4 am the night before when he sucked in a deep breath, stopping halfway when a fit of coughs overtook him, curling into himself and coughing desperately into his elbow. Once the fit subsided, he took another, full deep breath and picked up his Comm device. On it, read the time.

7:37. Fuck.

He answered it quickly, then threw the covers off of himself, launching to his feet. As he did so, a wave of nausea rolled over him, his vision going completely white. He stumbled forward and caught himself on the dresser, slamming the edge of his elbow on the corner in the process. He bit down on his tongue to keep the contents of his stomach down. Hard. He tasted the the sour blood as it coated his tongue and filled his mouth, but he did not let up.

"You're late," a cold voice announced from the Comm's speaker. With how hard Hajime was gripping the thing, he was surprised it was still working.

Fucking hell. The one day he was late of course Kirirgiri had to be there. He swallowed the blood and the pain radiating from his head, and now his funny bone, with a grimace. "My apologies Kirigiri-san. It was not my intention to-"

"I have neither the time nor the patience for your excuses, boy. Get to your device, now."

The line went dead, much like how Hajime felt and knew he was. Kirigiri pointedly refused to use his name. She was livid.

And she had every right to be, Hajime thought as he desperately pulled on the first pair of trousers he saw. He was an entire 37 minutes late. He started buttoning his shirt frantically, but found that he could not get his hands to stop shaking enough to do so. Hajime cursed and tossed the shirt to the side, instead opting to wear his undershirt to the meeting, and not his usual formal wear. He ran into the bathroom to smooth his hair when it hit him.

His stomach convulsed and the next thing he knew he was heaving into the toilet, a white knuckle grip on the toilet bowl. He skipped dinner last night because he hadn't been feeling well, so the only thing that came up was bile, burning his throat and stinging his nose. All he could think about was getting whatever was in him out as fast as possible so that he could get to the meeting.

Once the heaving subsided, he rushed to the sink and rinsed his mouth quickly, wiping the snot and vomit onto his hand towel. He rushed out of the bathroom, not bothering to flush or brush his teeth. When he finally threw himself into the conference room, he found that the screen on the computer was already depicting a grainy image of Makoto, Kirigiri standing over his shoulder. He threw himself into his usual seat at the head of the table and in front of the monitor, straightening up  and trying to appear as composed as possible.

Both Makoto and Kirigiri did not appear pleased.

"You took your time," Kirigiri announced the obvious for the second time, her voice dangerously sharp.

Hajime's eye darted to the time and found that it was now 7:53. He had spent nearly ten minutes emptying his stomach into his toilet bowl. /Fuck.

"And did not even bother to get dressed. Did you fall back asleep?"

Hajime knew it wasn't a question, but felt compelled to defend himself. He opened his mouth to respond, but Makoto waved his hand and spoke before he could.

"It does not matter. You are here now. Give your report, I am already late for another meeting and really do not have anymore time to waste." Makoto's voice was unusually cold and strung tight. Hajime had made him very late for a meeting. Hajime couldn't tell if his gut was clenching from the nausea or the guilt, but it didn't matter.

He quickly launched into his report, desperately hoping he wouldn't vomit all over the desktop.

Once the meeting was over, and he had been given another reprimand, he slowly picked himself up out of the chair and stumbled to the door. His next meeting wasn't until noon with the Patrol unit, so he had time to return to his room and clean himself up. He knew he should probably got to breakfast, but the idea of food made his stomach clench and he decided against it. He swung open the door, leaning heavily on the handle, when he realized someone was outside of it. Before he could register who it was, he straightened up and wiped the grimace off of his face. He couldn't let anyone know.

Komaeda pushed off the hallway wall he was leaning on and froze when he saw Hajime. "Oh shit, you look awful," he blurted.

"Thanks," Hajime grunted, rolling his eyes, and started down the hallway to his room. He heard Komaeda scramble to catch up behind him and within a moment he was walking backward in front of Hajime.

"I mean, you just look so sick, you don't look bad Hinata-kun, you never do- I mean well, I just meant that-"

Hajime felt another wave of nausea tear through him and he was forced to stop walking. He folded his arms over his chest to play off needing to put pressure on his stomach and attempted to mask his grimace as a scowl of annoyance at Komaeda.

Komaeda immediately snapped his mouth closed and stopped walking. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. "I just-"

"Why are you here?" Hajime grunted. He didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as he did, and couldn't help but feel bad when Komaeda flinched at his tone.

"Sorry... you just skipped dinner last night... and then you weren't at breakfast... so I was just... worried... I know I am sorry that sounds super stalkerish, like I am watching you or something, but I was so worried that you got hurt or something because you never miss meals, even if you don't eat and I am so sorry for pointing that out I am just-"

"No, thank you Nagito." Hajime found himself thanking the rambling boy before he could stop himself. After the morning he had, being yelled at and just feeling shitty for fucking up, the kind words made him feel better more than he liked to admit. "But you don't have to worry, I'm fine." Hajime moved to walk past Komaeda, but Komaeda caught his arm. If Hajime had been feeling better, he could have easily brushed him off. But for some reason, Hajime couldn't find the strength to break away.

It didn't matter though, Komaeda hissed and pulled his hand back quickly. "You are burning!" He raised a hand to Hajime's face and pressed his hand to his forehead before Hajime could smack his hand away. "You definitely have a fever."

Hajime's stomach dropped. He knew Komaeda was probably right, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. "No, I told you, I am fine." Hajime stalked toward his room and let himself in, planning to slam the door behind him so that Komaeda did not follow him in, but at that exact moment, a violent wave of nausea hit him and he bolted to the toilet.

Hajime thought it was impossible to throw up nothing. But here he was, heaving over the toilet, nothing but spit falling in. As his entire body clenched and spasmed, he felt a soothing hand on his back. The presence beside him comforted him immensely; just knowing someone was there made this bout of vomiting just a bit more bearable than the first, even though it was worse.

Hajime wasn't sure how long he spent over the toilet, but he knew it was a while. After Hajime no longer felt the need to vomit up his entire stomach, he kept his head hidden in the bowl, unwilling to face Komaeda.

Komaeda stayed silent, rubbing Hajime's back. He gave him a moment, then curled his arms around Hajime's shaking torso. "Here," Komaeda said as he helped Hajime stand up. "You'll want to brush your teeth."

Hajime no longer had the energy to fight, so he just did whatever Komaeda told him to. He guided him through the motions of washing out his mouth, and allowed Komaeda to brush his teeth for him when it was apparent that his hands were shaking too bad. Komaeda took over wordlessly, not commenting on Hajime's shortcoming, but Hajime still had to close his eyes as Komaeda brushed his teeth for him. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but he knew it was a combination of shame over how useless he was and the fact Komaeda was so close to Hajime's face. He kept his eyes squeezed closed as Komaeda prompted him to spit, and only opened them once Komaeda began to lead him to the bed.

To be very honest, it was more like half dragging Hajime to the bed. Hajime couldn't seem to get his feet to work correctly, and it tore him up. As Komaeda sat him up on the bed and crouched to take off Hajime's shoes, Hajime found himself closing his eyes again. He didn't even ask me to try. He knows I can't do it. I'm fucking pathetic.

"Hey," Hajime felt a hand cup his face and he blinked his eyes open in surprise. He almost shut them again when he realized Komaeda was mere inches from his face. He could feel Komaeda's warm breath fan his own flushed face, and felt Komaeda's thumb wipe away tears he did not know he had shed. Hajime felt so weak and small, but when he looked into Komaeda's eyes, he got lost in the genuine sincerity they held. "It's okay. I want to help."

How did he? Hajime's mind was swirling. Had he said that out loud? He wasn't sure anymore. He was too overwhelmed to fight back at anything, so he just nodded weakly. He let Komaeda take off his shoes and turn him to lay down on the bed. He didn't fight when Komaeda got up to get him water and something to swallow; he just took it.

As Komaeda pulled the covers over Hajime, he finally realized what was happening.

"Wait, meeting..." he protested weakly, trying to sit up, but collapsing back onto the bed when his vision blurred and spun.

"I'll take care of it," Komaeda insisted. He pressed Hajime down into the covers and placed a wet towel on his forehead. Hajime didn't know where Komaeda had found it or gotten it, but he was grateful nonetheless.

"They can't... I'm not..." Hajime struggled to form words as exhaustion tugged at his mind.

"Don't worry," Komaeda smiled, shushing Hajime. "I won't tell them. It will be our secret."

Hajime knew that he should have been creeped out by that, just like all his peers would have been, but Komaeda's reassuring words and kind actions overwhelmed him. Hajime chalked it up to him being sick. He was probably delirious, and that was the reason why he felt like kissing Komaeda. It was the fever and not because he liked him, because he didn't.

"Thank you, Nagito," Hajime muttered with a small smile, his eyes closing before he could gauge Komaeda's reaction.

After that, Hajime fell into a deep sleep, no longer able to keep himself up for another second.

[edgelordtozier]

new person (same old mistakes)

a/n: this is my steve and robin Friendship fic bc they're best friends 🥺🥺

AO3 LINK

description: After the events of The Battle of Starcourt, Steve Harrington finds himself going back to an all too quiet empty home. Overtaken by feelings and a sense of anxiety, he calls his new best friend Robin.

They have a sleepover.

Steve Harrington felt hopelessly hopeless. Grasping onto something small that would never actually happen anytime in his life, but something he longed for so deeply it pained him. Though he did not know precisely what it was he was longing for. Love, perhaps; or maybe just Nancy Wheeler, who was most definitely wrapped up in Jonathan Byers' arms right now, warm and protected despite the traumatic events of the day. 

Steve wished he could feel protected. 

He truly was alone if he really thought long and hard about it. His parents didn't give a shit about him, too busy with their jobs and their perfect lives without their imbecile of a son. He didn't have a girlfriend anymore, and even when he did she didn't truly love him as he did her. And his only real friends were children much younger than him, who would be busy soon at a school he'd already graduated from. 

To top it all off, he'd spent the last few days with terrifying Russians punching him around and drugging him up, all ended off with a huge monster that nearly killed everyone earlier in the day. And sure, it hadn't all been terrible; the parts where he got to joke around with Robin and Dustin and Erica made up for it all in a way he couldn't explain. 

The part where he professed his newfound feelings for Robin was embarrassing, though. Getting rejected always sucked. But he found it wasn't as bad as he expected it to be. Getting told by a girl he had feelings for that she didn't like him in that way —not because he was a bad person— but because she liked other girls herself was much easier to take, he found. And of course he respected her. He would have been stupid not to. She was hilarious, beautiful and so smart; it would have been a loss to not settle for just friends. 

His feelings hadn't dissipated just yet, but he knew they would soon. He wasn't desperately in love like he had been—or maybe even still was—with Nancy Wheeler. It was a crush, something that easily could have developed into more if he hadn't been let down in such a way. He didn't have a problem with the way she didn't like boys the way society told her she should have. 

Sure, if she would have told him a year or so ago he probably would have reacted in a much different way; but that was a result of the people he surrounded himself with. Tommy H. and those shitheads who emphasized what he already hated about himself and misconstrued everything to make it look like he was the bully, when it was really their actions that got them into mess after mess. And Steve played a part in most of them, he would admit. He wasn't just a bystander, watching and allowing. He partook in the shitty things they did, and he wasn't proud of it. But it was usually their plans and their pressure that pushed him into executing those things. 

He was glad he'd abandoned them after the fight with Jonathan Byers. After Jonathan had beat the living shit out of him while the love of his life— who he'd just called a slut publicly; painted by Tommy in red on the big sign in the front of the movie theater while Steve watched and didn't protest— watched and pleaded with them both to just stop fighting. Steve realized he probably should have on his own, rather than only stopping when the police arrived and acting on his own cowardice. Maybe Nancy would have thought higher of him and perhaps they would have still been together. But that probably wouldn't have happened anyway. Steve had done something fucked up, and he knew that helping clean it up afterwards didn't excuse it. 

Nancy just liked Jonathan more than she'd ever loved Steve. According to her, their relationship had been bullshit from the start; so maybe Steve shouldn't have put as much as he did into it. But he couldn't have helped it. He'd been in love with Nancy ever since he'd laid eyes on her; spoken to her and seen the way she smiled shyly and looked down at the ground. He wanted to protect her, love her, keep her happy. It seemed Steve was bad at doing anything right nowadays. 

He'd failed at that, failed so desperately to just keep Nancy happy. Maybe he didn't even put enough into the relationship in the first place, maybe he was just bad at being a good boyfriend, maybe he'd just always make the same mistakes over and over again. She'd left him and he'd been alone, so alone and so melancholy. 

He wanted to feel alive, so he fucked girls who just wanted a good hook up. He liked it, but the euphoria was never as much as it had been when he was with Nancy, so deeply in love and infatuated. It would never be the same. 

And then he'd graduated, and the loneliness jerked up to an all time high. He had Dustin Henderson, the curly haired kid he'd fought interdimensional monsters with a while before and become best friends with, giving him tips on picking up girls despite just how fucking atrocious he was at it himself, but that was all. Dustin looked up to him for whatever reason, and Steve couldn't bring himself to tell the kid he wasn't role model material. He was just Steve Harrington, the fuck up with good hair who somehow got lucky with girls when he had been in high school. 

Dustin had gone to camp the first month of summer. He'd shown up to Steve's high school graduation with his mom and a plate of cookies, congratulating him on actually finishing high school despite his low grades. He'd graduated high school, but that didn't mean he'd go to college, Dustin had joked. The poor kid didn't know just how true that statement really was. 

Dustin had sent him a toothless grin and thumbs up, performing the handshake they'd made up before Dustin announced he'd be leaving for camp the next day. They said goodbye on the field while Steve was in his cap and gown, holding a plate of cookies with foil on the top, as he watched Dustin Henderson walk away. After that Steve drove himself home to an empty house, where his parents were absent. They hadn't bothered to go to his graduation. They'd only left a note on the dining room table that said "congratulations," a one hundred dollar bill underneath. He'd pocketed the money, ate a cookie or two and went to bed, feeling worse than ever. 

In that month that Dustin was gone, the Starcourt Mall had opened. The town adored the place, despite the older residents protesting the fact that the downtown area was all too empty now. Steve found it to be an opportunity. 

He'd gotten a job at Scoops Ahoy alongside Robin, and it had been easy enough. He didn't make a lot of money an hour, and the job definitely wasn't his passion; but he had no other choice. His father didn't believe him to be smart enough to work for his company, despite Steve being his only son. It was unfair, infuriating and unprecedented. He could have at least given him a chance. But Steve had to settle for something else, something simple. 

He didn't know that working at the ice cream place would have such dire outcomes. But now, there he was, sitting on the sofa in his empty home late at night with a bruised face, clad in his bloodied Scoops Ahoy uniform, hands clasped together and nails scratching nervously at his palms. His house was too quiet, too silent for him to feel comfortable, safe, protected. Jesus, would he ever feel protected? 

The happenings of the day had been far too much for Steve to handle; the aftereffects of the Russians beating his ass and the hangover of whatever drugs they had given him only added to discomfort. Robin rejecting him and telling him she liked girls topped it all off; which wasn't nearly as horrible as the rest. He supposed all that mattered was their friendship remaining intact. But then there was coming face to face with Nancy and Jonathan again and the monster- huge and terrifying- trying to kill all of them. And then the end of it, when Billy Hargrove- the bastard- died on the ground with his sobbing step-sister beside him and Steve thanked fuck it wasn't him dead on the ground, with no one to cry by his side. 

The military had arrived after that—led by Dr. Owen's from Hawkins Lab—and they'd all gotten out of the mall. Steve was guided into an ambulance and his wounds were treated, though he'd played them down as if they hadn't mattered and told them all he needed was bandaids. After a while they hadn't bothered fighting him on it, ignoring his nasty black eye and the purple and yellow bruise taking over his cheek. 

He'd wrapped himself up in a blanket, walked over and made small talk with Nancy and Jonathan about what had happened. He'd asked them where they'd go after they were all released, and they'd told him they were going back to Nancy's house together. When they asked him the same question, he'd lied and said he was spending the night at a friends house. He didn't want them to pity him if he told the truth and said he was going to be completely and utterly alone all night.

After that he'd talked to Robin and Dustin, spoke to them animatedly about whatever came to mind in an attempt to get that thing out of his head. His parents didn't come to pick him up, as expected. The keys to his car had been taken by the Russians earlier so Steve, much like after his graduation, walked home. 

And now here he was, nervously picking at his fingernails, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip hard enough to worsen the split of it from the earlier beating he'd endured. He still lived in his parents' home and he knew they didn't mind. Why would they? They were never home anyway and it didn’t tamper with their work. Though Steve hated the goddamn house, hated how large and quiet it was. 

And now it was too quiet. So, so, quiet;, quiet enough that Steve could hear his own heart beating rapidly; the sound of cars driving by outside; the phantom sound of footsteps that weren't really there, that he was really just making up in his mind out of nerves. He could turn on his TV, but the old thing barely worked anymore. It was an older model and he'd had it for a few years. He could have turned on his radio instead, but he didn't bother getting up. He didn't know if he refrained from turning it on because he was scared of the slight chance of hearing the familiar growl of the monster again or if he really was just too anxious to stand up. 

He could hear his breathing, the inhale and the exhale growing faster as time passed.

Steve shot up. He stood up so fast that his vision grew blotchy for a moment, and he clenched his jaw so tight that it hurt, grinding his teeth together out of annoyance. Annoyance towards what, he didn't know. Perhaps he was annoyed by the way he was acting. Big bad King Steve breaking down because it was a little too quiet and he felt lonely and scared. Jesus, he sounded like a child. 

Steve ran a shaking hand through his hair, ignoring the ache of his bruised knuckles; a wound he'd developed after hitting a Russian guard. Dustin had been so proud, and Steve found he felt pride in himself for even just a second. 

He shook off the initial blur of his vision, sighing under his breath as he found himself walking over to the telephone plugged into the wall in the kitchen above the counter. He had a phone in his room as well, but there was no use in walking all the way upstairs just for that. 

He grabbed the phone, holding it up to his ear as he used his other hand to dial the number, the number he'd memorized the day it had been told to him but had never called before. He'd never had a real reason to call it, they'd seen each other nearly every day all summer due to their shared job. 

"Hello?" A familiar tired voice on the other end rung out, breaking Steve out of his thoughts and making him jump in surprise. 

He let out a heavy sigh, running a frustrated hand down his face and wincing when he touched the prominent bruise on his cheek. "Robin? Hey, it's...uh...it's Steve. Y'know, Steve Harrington? The Steve you work with?" He rambled out. 

Robin laughed on the other end, a noise that Steve had found himself growing fond of. "You could have just said you were Steve, you dingus. I'd know which Steve we were talkin' about. I only know seventy other ones."

"Really? You know more Steves?" Steve asked with a chuckle, raising his eyebrow to himself. Talking to Robin helped him realize just how nervous he had been beforehand; made the shaking of his hands cease to a minimum. 

"No, dumbass," Robin spoke, and Steve swore he could almost hear her roll her eyes. "What did you call me for? I was like half asleep, man."

Steve bit the skin on the inside of his cheek too hard, flinching lightly at the pain before he let out a shaky sigh under his breath. He found himself sighing a lot nowadays. "This is a really weird question and you can say no if you want to, but uh…do you want to come over for the night?"

The other end was silent for a few long seconds and Steve hated how it made his stomach churn. Before he could open his mouth to assure Robin was still on the other end, she spoke, gently and tentatively. "Steve…. you remember what we talked about in the mall bathroom today, don't you?" 

Of course he did. The talk where Robin let him down and told him she liked Tammy Thompson rather than him, despite her singing sounding like Kermit the Frog and Fozzie Bear’s love child. Steve didn't mind, but the conversation was still fresh in his mind, made only more vivid by the shock that he had felt in that moment. Nonetheless though, it meant nothing now. Steve just wanted to be friends with Robin, and her sexual orientation didn't change that. Besides, he needed to withhold at least one friend his age.

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "Not like that. I'm not gonna make a move on you, don't worry. The embarrassing feelings are gone. Pretend I never said anything about them," He said simply before he cleared his throat almost awkwardly. "Y'know it's just my parents aren't home and… uh… kinda still fucked up over the Russians. I thought maybe you'd want some company too," He paused. "I've got a pool."

Steve heard Robin chuckle gently on the other end, letting out the slightest sigh before speaking. "Yeah sure, moron. But if my dad catches me sneaking out, it's all your fault. You've gotta use your rich boy money to pay him off," He heard Robin stand up, rustle through some things and open up her window. "What's your address, Harrington?" 

Steve told Robin where he lived, listened to the girl hum and explain how she wrote it on her arm in blue glitter gel pen before she hung up and presumably began her trip to Steve's house. He didn't know if she had a car, and he probably should have asked beforehand, but he hadn't thought about it in time. 

He set the phone back down on the wall, walking away and sitting back down on the sofa. It was two in the morning, still dark outside with barely any light seeping through the blinds over the windows. Steve had nothing on in the house but a measly lamp and he just hoped the monster was really dead and that the thing wouldn't start flashing the lights like it had that one time at Jonathan's house. 

The thought of the monster was a thought that seemed impossible to force out of his mind. His focus would stray at times, but mostly kept to that one thought, that one impending image of a monster running after a car and a teenage boy that could have been him dead on the floor. 

Steve hated it. 

He hated that the second he got home from the mall he'd found the bat he kept stowed away under his bed, the one with nails stuck inside of the wood; and he'd placed it on the coffee table in front of the sofa, eyeing it with unease as he sat down. 

Steve looked over at the bat, found himself swallowing thickly at the mere thought of those things he'd fought off by the abandoned bus; at the terrified look on those kids’ faces when they'd blocked off the entrance, held it down as a means to keep those things out; at Max's scream when she saw one pop it's head in through the top, growl at her with such vigor. He was a good babysitter, he supposed. At least, Nancy had thought so. But what does she know? 

Everything, maybe. Everything about Steve that he'd tried so hard to keep bottled up. She knew he was a shitty boyfriend. She knew that their relationship; that her love for Steve was bullshit. Though Steve's love for her was never bullshit. It was far from it.  

Steve averted his gaze from the bat, turning it up towards the ceiling. He could smoke something, numb the pain in his face and his knuckles and his brain. But that would just remind him of his father, the way he'd come home one day to Steve laying against the counter, a giggly mess with bloodshot eyes and terrible smelling breath. The way his father had pulled him up too roughly and yelled at him, asked him if he was doing drugs. The way Steve mumbled out "it's just marijuana, dad," had earned him an incredulously angry glare from his father. The way his father dropped him back down on the floor and muttered that he wished he'd gotten a better son than Steve.

Steve understood why they did. If he'd been a better son, perhaps he would be working happily in his father’s large company, not having to deal with all this… bullshit. Fuck, maybe Nancy would want him back if he wasn't full of so much bullshit. 

Steve jumped when the doorbell rang, more antsy than usual. Huffing to himself at his own behavior, Steve stood up and walked over to the door, opening it without bothering to look at who was there. 

Though he didn't have to, as Robin stood behind it as expected. She too was still wearing her Scoops Ahoy uniform—minus the hat—blue and white now stained with just the slightest amount of dirt and vomit and perhaps some blood, too. She looked tired, purple bags under her eyes and her hair tangled. But despite that, she smiled. "Ahoy," She greeted jokingly, eyeing Steve's uniform in amusement. He knew his was definitely covered with blood and vomit from earlier, as gross as it was, but he hadn't the energy to change. 

"Ahoy," Steve chuckled, stepping aside and gesturing for Robin to walk in. She did so, stepping foot in his home and almost immediately furrowing her eyebrows, looking around. He noticed the smeared ink on her arm, glittery blue just like she'd explained on the phone. He could have laughed if he weren't still so damn shaky.

"Shit, this is huge. Or bigger than my house, at least. I knew you were loaded but damn, dude," Robin laughed out, looking over at Steve with a grin before she plopped down on his couch, legs propped up on the coffee table, one crossed over the other.

Steve shut the front door, locking it and moving to sit down beside Robin. He watched as she scrunched her nose up in confusion, reaching out and grabbing the bat from the table, tracing her finger over the nails with a confused expression. "Something like this happened last year too. And a little before that," He explained in a mumble, pointing to the bat. 

"Holy shit. This town is mega fucked. I've never noticed anything before," Robin shrugged, placing the bat back down. "So, you scared or something? Of the huge monster?" 

Steve didn't find himself trying to argue on it because, yes, he supposed he was scared of the huge monster. He found himself nodding a bit, sighing. "A little. I just don't like being alone much. It's- iIt's lame, I know..." he trailed off. 

Robin nodded in understanding before she stood up. "Well, let's go to your room," She spoke, rolling her eyes at Steve's responding raised eyebrow. "Not for that, moron. I like girls, remember? Tammy Thompson?"

"Ah. How could I forget that you liked the muppet?" Steve joked with a laugh, shaking his head as he stood up, guiding Robin up to his bedroom. She followed, laughing at his words the same way she had in the bathroom at the mall. He loved her laugh; the way it sounded raspy, cracking just barely in the middle. 

"She was cute! And I liked her perm. Usually perms are godawful, but hers worked with her face shape," Robin explained with a chuckle, not wasting any time to sit herself down on Steve's bed when they walked inside his room, right down on his plain light blue bedsheets. Steve turned on the lamp placed on his bedside table.

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say. I still think hers was terrible," Steve spoke with a small grin, sitting beside Robin. "She looked like Barbra Streisand but worse."

"Hey! I'll have you know that Barbra Streisand is hot—smoking, even!" Robin exclaimed, looking at Steve with a wide smile. 

"Oh yeah, smoking in the crematorium. She's old, and if anyone looks like a muppet, it's her," Steve joked with a laugh, watching curiously as Robin stood up from the bed, moving to look through Steve's drawers. "What the hell are you doing?"

Robin chuckled, "You're being an ass to Barbra, so I'm gonna look through your stuff," She spoke, opening up the first drawer. Steve laughed as she snorted in amusement, holding up a box of condoms. "Gross. I'm assuming you haven't used these in a while?"

"Ha ha, very funny. I use them plenty," Steve deadpanned, rolling his eyes. That was a lie, of course. Steve hadn't had sex since a little before summer began, and even then it was a terrible hook up.

Robin placed the condoms down, opening up the second drawer. Her eyes widened, grabbing the magazine inside and holding it up in front of Steve, who's eyes widened as well at just which one she held. "You have Playboys?! You really are lonely. This room is a ‘Steve and his right hand’ zone, huh?"

"Of course. I should get a sign that says just that and put it on my door," Steve pointed out casually, nodding his head and watching as Robin pulled out the other three Playboy magazines out of the nightstand, walking back over and sitting down on the bed. 

Robin raised her eyebrow at the top one in the stack, chuckling. "You're real updated. You've got the July one and everything."

Steve chuckled, looking over at the magazine cover. "My dad has a subscription. He tells me not to look at his mail and just put it in his nightstand but I steal his Playboys sometimes. He gets pissed at the mailing company for screwing up and gets a new copy for free," He spoke. "I have the Madonna September issue too."

Robin's eyes widened as she picked up the Madonna 1985 September issue, flipping through the pages with an undeniably large amount of interest. "Tell your dad I said thank you," She joked. "You may suck, dingus, but you have good taste in women." 

"Maybe," Steve mumbled lightly, unable to help the image of Nancy Wheeler that popped into his brain. He swallowed hard, finding himself picking at his fingernails again. He stopped, shaking off those thoughts and mumbling a joking, "You can't really relate to the good taste in women part."

"Maybe not," Robin laughed out, nodding along to Steve's words before she closed the magazine. "Can I keep one? I'll give it back in like a week or something."

"Keep as many as you want," Steve shrugged. He didn't really mind. He had more under his bed anyway, if he really needed to let off some steam. It wasn’t like he’d found his libido to be too high nowadays.

Robin grinned widely, grabbing the Madonna issue and two other ones, placing the one she didn't want to keep back in Steve's nightstand, shutting it and setting the magazines on top. She turned back around, looking at Steve for a moment before chuckling. "Your face looks shitty."

Steve surprised himself by laughing, nodding a bit. "Gee, thanks. That makes me feel a lot better about myself," he joked, still grinning to himself. 

"You moron, I mean your bruises. You look stupid with those bandaids on your face. All of that is gonna get infected and you're gonna get like, Russian herpes or some shit," Robin explained, shaking her head. "Where the hell is your first aid kit?" 

"Russian herpes? What's the difference between American herpes and that?" Steve asked with a raised eyebrow, "and in the bathroom cupboard." 

Robin laughed, walking off to the bathroom connected to Steve's room, grabbing the first aid kit from the cupboard before coming back to the room. "Russian herpes is like a crazier, gooier herpes. You're gonna have huge warts on your face and when you touch them, they'll pop and there will be puss all over your face and in your hair and shit," she joked with a grin, opening up the first aid kit. 

"That's disgusting," Steve chuckled. "I knew a girl with herpes. She stopped showing up to school. I think she got pregnant," He mumbled, watching as Robin laughed, yanking the bandaids off of Steve's cuts before pouring some sort of liquid on a cotton swab before pressing it against Steve's wounds. He couldn't help but let out a yelp, flinching back. "What the fuck?"

"See, this is why I didn't warn you it would hurt," Robin huffed. "Stay fucking still." She spoke, dabbing the cotton against the rest of his cuts and bruises. Steve flinched every time as well, but tried to stay as still as possible. "Getting pregnant would blow. Good for us, huh? You're not gonna get pregnant, are you?"

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Not planning on it. Who knows, though? Maybe I'll get reckless one of these days," He joked with a grin, wincing when Robin began to place larger bandaids on his cuts, gentler than she applied the liquid to them. 

"That'd be a sight. Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington with a child. Or maybe herpes. Maybe...both, like that girl!" Robin laughed, moving away from Steve's face and closing up the first aid kit, going to put it away before coming back to the room. She sat down on his bed, raising her eyebrow. "Sleeping arrangements, hot shot. What's it gonna be?" She grinned. 

"I've got a sleeping bag if you wanna sleep on the floor. But you like girls, so us sleeping in the same bed shouldn't be a problem for you, should it?" Steve asked, genuinely asking. 

Robin chuckled. "Nah. Wouldn't bother me at all. You sure it wouldn't bother little Steve though?" She asked jokingly, wiggling her eyebrows. 

Steve rolled his eyes, finding his cheeks growing just barely red, simply out of embarrassment. "I'm sure! I would be fine! I told you, feelings are gone."

"Alrighty then, Stevey," Robin grinned, pulling off her shoes and lying on the right side of Steve's bed over the comforter, either lacking shame or just so comfortable around her newfound best friend Steve that it seemed she lacked shame. "You said you had a pool. I'm gonna swim in it tomorrow morning."

Steve chuckled at her bluntness, nodding his head and lying on the left side of the bed, hands clasped over his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling. "Sounds good," He smiled lightly, shrugging. He found himself comfortable around Robin;, more so than he probably ever had with Nancy. With Nancy, he was always so worried about being the perfect tough guy for her; the perfect guy who didn't feel anything heavy except for anger and protectiveness over his girlfriend. With Robin, he could be himself, because Robin was his best friend, nothing more, and that was much better than having a girlfriend; despite his earlier opinions. 

It was silent for a few minutes, comforting silence that didn't leave Steve anxious and worried. Nothing but the sound of their breathing and the occasional chuckle Robin would let out at nothing at all. 

"Do you still love Nancy Wheeler?" Robin asked after a while, catching Steve by surprise. He glanced over, eyes a bit wide, caught off guard. Robin was still looking up at the ceiling, smiling to herself. 

Steve thought of his answer for a moment, swallowed and averted his gaze back up at the ceiling as he poked his tongue out to lick his lips nervously. "A little, yeah," He whispered. "I think I always will."

Robin let out a laugh, a laugh that made Steve furrow his eyebrows and look over again, look over as Robin laughed harder. "That's so lame," She explained as she calmed down, looking over at Steve with a grin. "Nancy Wheeler is hot as hell, but you're Steve Harrington. All the girls that aren't lesbos like me are in love with you! So why are you so obsessed with Nancy, out of all people, when there are so many better girls out there?" 

Steve sighed, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle. "None of them like me anymore. I've lost it, I guess," he murmured, shrugging. 

"Exactly why I had that board. You suck," Robin smiled wide, "which is why you should take a break. Relationships are shitty and clearly you're not good at them. Word of advice, get over Nancy. She's over you." 

Steve knew it was true. As much as it pained him to hear it, Nancy was over him. And Steve should have been over her too. He shouldn't have been constantly reminiscing about what life was like with Nancy Wheeler, but he couldn't help it. She was the love of his life and getting over her would never be easy. For him, their love was nothing close to bullshit.

"It's not that easy," Steve mumbled simply, letting out a sigh. 

"I wouldn't know. I've never been in love. Guess I'm not educated enough to tell you what to do, but still. You should try to get over Nancy," Robin smiled gently, glancing over. "She's just fucking you over."

"I guess so…" Steve trailed off. "The monster today... did you think it was gonna kill you?" He asked curiously, mostly as a means to avert the topic. 

"Nah, man. I wasn't, like, petrified with fear or anything. Maybe I should have been but it was pretty cool to see. Same with the Russians but, hey, I wasn't the one getting my face bashed in," Robin laughed. "What about you, dingus? Were you scared?"

"Already told you; a little. I thought I was gonna get killed or something like that. And I probably would have been if Dustin and Erica hadn't shown up..." Steve spoke, nodding slowly. 

"Most likely. That little dude is cool as hell. Annoying, but cool," Robin grinned. "He reminds me of you, but nerdier."

"Come on! I'm not nerdy enough already?" Steve joked with a grin that mirrored Robin's, looking over. "You couldn't tell from my extensive Star Wars VHS collection?" He joked again. He definitely didn't have one. He'd only ever seen the first ever Star Wars movie, anyway. And during that, he'd only been  ten years old.

"How could I have possibly forgotten?! You're a new man! You know everything there is to know!" Robin smiled wide. "Who's your favorite Star Wars character?" 

"Uhhh… the little green guy with the sword," Steve said slowly, making little motions with his hands that really didn't help to explain at all. 

"You're amazing! Star Wars extraordinaire. You should partake in trivia, I'm sure it exists," Robin joked with an amused laugh. "You'll get tons of chicks if you join a fan club."

"Seriously?" Steve asked, genuinely curious as he held himself up by his elbows, glancing over at Robin with a grin. "I'm sure Dustin knows a few I could join. I just have to catch up on the last couple of movies and I'm golden."

"Oh, are you?" Robin mocked with a chuckle. "No, moron. Hot girls will scatter if you start talking about sith lords and R2D2."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows for a moment. "What the fuck is that?" 

"Exactly! You don't know anything about it either. Nerd girls will hate you and so will the popular girls! All the girls! Sucks for you, dingus." Robin smiled wide. 

"What will get me girls?" Steve huffed out, letting himself fall back down on his bed.  

"What did we just talk about, Steve? No relationships for you until you get over Nancy," Robin scolded, flicking Steve in the side of the forehead, to which he winced and rubbed the spot with the palm of his hand. 

"For future reference!" Steve defended, shaking his head. 

"You're asking the wrong girl, Harrington. Flirting is nowhere near my expertise," Robin chuckled, waving him off. 

"Then what is your expertise? Using your pointer and middle fingers?" Steve grinned, laughing at the resulting slap on the arm from Robin. 

"No, idiot! My expertise is bad advice. I'll give it to you if you give it to me," Robin grinned. 

"First of all, that sounds terrible," Steve pointed out with a chuckle. "Second of all, why would I want bad advice?" 

"Hey, advice is advice, Harrington. Take it or leave it. Maybe it'll be good advice in a box that looks like bad advice." Robin shrugged. 

"Wh-what…what the fuck does that mean?" Steve asked with furrowed eyebrows, confused. 

"You are such a dumbass. You know what? Never mind." Robin laughed out. 

"No! I want bad advice!" Steve protested, shaking his head. He found himself entirely forgetting all the happenings of the day. It was only him and his best friend, the girl who would give him shitty girl advice for a long time. Steve liked it that way. 

So Robin grinned and nodded her head, let out a laugh that filled the room and took over all the silence that Steve hated so much. After a few more hours of talking, Robin fell asleep, sprawled out in her Scoops Ahoy uniform on Steve's bed beside him and Steve shut off the lamp without any further concern of seeing a monster lurking through his window. 

The silence was filled with the sound of Robin's snores, snores that Steve found amusing and comforting rather than irritating. And Steve, despite believing that he wouldn't fall asleep that night, shut his eyes and didn't find himself dreaming of anything but the friends he had who loved him. That was what he had been longing for. Love, but not from Nancy. He didn't need Nancy Wheeler— or any girlfriend for that matter— when he had his friends who would love him more than she ever had and would never treat him like, well, bullshit.

Maybe this was where Steve Harrington felt protected. 

[god--baby]

satisfaction brought you back (nsfw)

kylo ren x ambiguously gendered reader

this fic’s masterpost

summary: you are part of a group of courtesans brought to service the first order. you do your job, and you do it well. but when the commander chooses you, you find your night to be full of surprises. 

word count: 5411

a/n: i’m sorry that i did this instead of bowers gang ships. i’ll get to them soon!!!!

tag list: @bowers1989 because if i’m gonna be mean to you i’m gonna be mean to you and @bisexualbitchbabe bc i love you

In the end, it was Phasma who made the first move.

She swooped in, going right up to one of your friends, said, “hello, pretty,” and picked her up, carrying her away. Your friend giggled in her arms, and you watched the two of them disappear around a corner with a fond smile on your face.

Your friend was a favorite of women. Always was, always would be, you thought.

Then came General Hux. That, you were surprised about. You’d thought Commander Ren would take his turn — and his pick — of all of you next.

Then again, you’d thought he would go first. But he seemed to be preoccupied.

Hux took his time, slowly going down the line, rubbing a lock of hair between his fingers here, testing the elasticity of a cheek there.

When he got to you, you smiled.

He scowled.

“Show me your teeth,” he barked.

Obedient, you did.

He pushed up your top lip with his thumb, inspecting your gums. Though you knew there was nothing wrong with your oral hygiene, he didn’t seem pleased with what he found.

He moved on.

In the end, he chose another of the girls you were close to, a shy and genuine and kinky girl you couldn’t imagine your working life without. He hauled her away by the upper arm, and she gave you a little wave as she went.

You smiled at her.

Then the room fell silent.

Looking away from your friend’s retreating form, you found that Commander Ren had finally turned away from the bridge’s windows, turned to face you.

Well, all of you.

There were more than enough courtesans here for every high-ranking member of the First Order. You were simply one of many.

He scanned over all of you, his eyes falling on yours.

You smiled.

He sighed.

Please, you thought. I know you can hear me. Please, choose me.

It wasn’t that you’d be paid more if you went with him. It was that you were curious. Curiosity may kill cats, but courtesans — well. There was more than enough satisfaction to be had to bring you back.

He took several large steps toward you until he was looming over you, dwarfing you with his stature. You held your ground.

“Why,” he began, “should I try you out?”

Your smile only got larger.

“Why don’t you wait and see?” you asked.

“I am not a patient man,” he snapped. “Tell me or I choose someone else.”

You thought long and hard about all of the people you’d pleased over the course of your career, men like him — though, who could be like him? Who could compare?

Though, the reluctance… that wasn’t new to you. You thought of the last man who’d been hesitant to actually choose you, you thought of the fun you’d had with him, the look on his face when he’d come inside you.

Commander Ren searched your face as you thought, and you knew he was listening. You knew he knew.

“Fine,” he said, sharp. “You. Come.”

He turned on his heel and marched away, and you hurried after him, grabbing your small bag and pulling it along.

He led you through many long corridors and finally, stopped at an elevator door. He pressed the button and keyed in a code — perhaps to gain him access to the area where his quarters were — and stood, hands clenched at his side as he waited.

You took a chance.

Patting your bag first to make sure it was still at your side and going nowhere, you slid an arm around one of his. With surprise, he looked down at you.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice only a shadow of the authority he’d used back on the bridge.

“Commander,” you began, “I’m getting comfortable with you before we begin. Now, please, lead me to your quarters like a gentleman.”

“I don’t take orders from a whore,” he said.

If it was the first time you’d been called that, you’d be surprised, hurt. But it wasn’t.

“If you’d care to notice,” you said carefully, watching your step, “I said please. It wasn’t an order.”

He looked you over and huffed. The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside, pulling you in with him. When the door closed again and the two of you were alone, he bent his arm. Like a gentleman.

The ride in the elevator was silent. And after it opened and he led you out of it, down a long hall, the walk was, too.

He got to a door. He punched in a code as you looked away, like you’d been taught.

Gently, so gently it surprised you, he gestured to the open door.

“After you,” he said.

You didn’t hesitate before you walked in.

It was most certainly the home of a bachelor. But clean, too clean. You could smell the products the sanitation staff had used. It made you smile.

He followed you in, going to the bar in the small kitchen. He poured himself a drink.

“I’m curious,” he said. “What’s in the bag?”

“Oh,” you said, casual as you watched him, as you looked around. “A change of clothes. My datapad. Protection.”

He snorted into his drink, holding it up as he leaned against the counter, ankles crossed in front of him.

“You won’t be using that with me.”

“Oh, I won’t?” you asked.

“No.”

“It’s an extra fee.”

“Do you think I can’t afford it?”

He sounded angry.

“No,” you said gently, setting your bag down and walking up to him. You took his drink and sipped at it, holding his eye. “I’m just warning you.”

“You’re very blunt,” he said, eyes on your lips as you licked them, chasing the taste of the alcohol.

“Yes, well, I am a whore,” you said. You were teasing him for calling you that earlier. You hoped he knew that.

He looked you in the eye for a moment, then smiled.

There it was.

“Would you like your own drink?” he asked.

“Please.”

“Get undressed.”

You smiled, but didn’t move to do so.

“I would like to get to know you before we begin.”

Again, he snorted.

“You can get to know me without your clothes,” he said.

“If that’s what you prefer,” you said.

“Yes, it is. Take them off.”

You stepped back from him, pulling off the long silken robe you wore over your clothes. You draped it over the back of one of the tall chairs that ringed the small table. Then, with his eyes on you, you slowly took off the rest of it. The shirt that showed off your stomach, the tight pants. The sandals. Then your undergarments. All of it, carefully folded as it was discarded. You turned your back to him to make sure it wouldn’t wrinkle, and in a moment, he pressed up behind you, hands on your hips.

He pressed a short kiss to the side of your neck, and you shivered. Grateful, as always, that your neck was sensitive. It made things more enjoyable for you.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, voice close to your ear. “Even better than I had thought. Those clothes do you no favors.”

You let out a light laugh.

“I’ll inform my handlers,” you said.

“They dress you?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Only for high profile clientele. I usually get to choose.”

“What would you have worn were I not myself?”

You turned in his arms, pressing yourself close to his chest, one hand flat on it.

“Not this,” you said. “I’m not sure what, but not this.”

He smiled.

You liked his smile.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s drink.”

He left you to get the drink he’d made for you, then gestured to his bed. You climbed on it, letting the silky comforter embrace your bare skin. He climbed on after you, settling at your side, handing your drink to you. You took a sip, grateful it wasn’t too strong, grateful he wasn’t trying to get you drunk before he actually began with you.

“You’re obviously intelligent,” he said.

“Mm,” you hummed. “For a whore.”

The corner of his mouth went up in a smirk. He picked up your legs and draped them across his lap as he said, “I suppose you’ll be wanting an apology for that?”

“I’d prefer one to nothing.”

“I don’t often apologize.”

“That’s a shame.”

Caressing your thigh, he looked you over.

“You said you wanted to get to know me,” he said. “But I feel like you think you know more than you do.”

“I know enough,” you said, lifting your drink to your lips and looking at him over the rim of the crystal.

“What do you know?” he asked, his voice hushed.

“You’re a bachelor. Your position doesn’t lend itself to partners of any kind, but mainly sexual or romantic. There hasn’t been a single person who has stayed the night here in years. You prefer to be alone when you wake up.”

He rolled his bottom lip through his teeth as he listened, neither confirming nor denying anything.

“What else?” he asked when you were finished.

“You,” you began slowly, “were nervous about today.”

“Why do you think so?”

“You had your quarters cleaned. Professionally. I can smell the antiseptic.”

“Am I really so transparent?” he asked.

“No,” you said. You took another sip of your drink, letting him wait.

And wait he did.

“No,” you continued. “I’m still not sure exactly what it is that you want from me.”

“Sex,” he said.

“Now who’s the blunt one?”

He chuckled.

“But really,” you said, taking your legs from his lap and getting to your knees, climbing into his lap, straddling him. “All that, I know, but I don’t know what you want. What you really want.”

His hands went to your hips, holding you down on him as you finished your drink and set the glass down on the bed beside him.

“Do you want me to take control?” you asked. “Or be good and make myself small for you? What do you want me to call you? Master? Commander? Sir?”

He made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat at that.

“All that,” he said, “all that is for my working life.”

“But this is my working life,” you pointed out. “And I need to know the rules if I’m going to play.”

“Call me…” he began, slowly, choosing his words carefully, “call me Daddy.”

“Daddy,” you repeated softly. “And what do you want from me, Daddy?”

He smiled up at you, running a hand over your hair.

Stars, but you did like his smile.

“Be a good little thing for me, little one,” he said. “Can you kiss me?”

You tilted your head to the side in a silent question.

“The last time… in a situation much like this,” he explained. “He didn’t kiss.”

“Ah,” you said.

And then you bent in, kissing him sweet and short, pulling back as soon as you were done.

“That’s not a real kiss, little one,” he scolded, brows furrowing.

“Oh, you want a real kiss?” you asked, teasing him. “A real kiss from me, Daddy?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

His hand slid down from your hair to the side of your neck, pulling you down to kiss him. He crushed his lips to yours, kissing you breathless, nipping at your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

He was one of the better kissers you’d encountered. Not the best, but still very good.

His hands tightened on your hips as you moved your hands from his shoulders to the sides of his neck, your fingertips in the roots of his hair. You shifted your weight, grinding down on him, little rolls and circles of your hips. You weren’t a fool — you knew how that would affect him.

Sure enough, as you ground down on him harder, he groaned into your mouth, a well-concealed noise, and you felt him begin to harden beneath you. You took one of your hands away from his neck, reaching down between your legs, raking your fingernails over his trousers. This time, the groan wasn’t concealed at all.

“Dirty little thing,” he whispered, pulling just a breath away from you to look you in the eye. He wound a hand into your hair and pulled, yanked your head back. “Getting your daddy all wound up.”

He put his lips to your neck, nipping at your skin. You gasped, and then sighed.

“You can’t leave a mark on me,” you whispered, not wanting to break the spell. “I can’t work with a mark on my skin.”

He growled, hand tightening in your hair as he nipped at your neck again, gentle. Then he kissed down to one of your nipples and took it into your mouth, flicking his tongue over it.

“Daddy,” you sighed, one of your hands still on him between your legs. You stroked over him, teased him, knowing he wanted so much more.

“Does Daddy make you feel good, little one?” he asked.

Swallowing, you nodded despite his hand still firmly in your hair.

“Answer me,” he growled.

“So good, Daddy,” you whimpered as he moved to your other nipple, kissing it before licking over it.

“What do you want, little one?” he asked. “Tell Daddy what you want, and you might just get it.”

That gave you pause. You honestly couldn’t remember the last client who had asked you what you wanted. The entire arrangement was about what they wanted.

“I want your cock in my mouth, Daddy,” you whispered as he sucked hard on your nipple, pinching the other with his free hand. “I want to see you. All of you.”

“What do you say, little one?”

“Please,” you said.

Part of it was an act, of course. But that curiosity was still there in full force. Still there, and yes, you were dying to see him. To know what he had under those clothes.

“Good, little one,” he purred. “Good.”

Easily, he lifted you off his lap, setting you on the bed to his side. You whined at the loss of contact and he smiled at you. Smirked, more like.

He knew.

Oh, he knew.

You watched as he stood, pulling his cowl over his head, walking over and draping it over the back of one of the dining chairs. Then undoing his tunic, taking off his undershirt, exposing a broad chest and wide waist peppered in small scars. You wondered briefly what they would feel like under your lips until he undid his pants and pulled them off, leaving him in plain black underwear. He came back to the bed and patted a space on the side of it.

“Sit right here for Daddy, little one,” he said.

You scrambled on your hands and knees to the spot, then sat, feet dangling off the tall side of the bed, legs a little too short to reach without pointing your toes. The entire room was tailor made for his tall frame, bed included.

“Now,” he said, thumb resting on your bottom lip. “How bad do you want my cock?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, silently begging. He petted your hair, long and smooth passes of his large hand from the crown of your head to the base of your skull.

“No,” he said. “You have to tell me. Out loud.”

“Please, Daddy?”

“Please, what?”

Playing at being bashful, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his core, your lips ghosting over the bulge in his underwear as you said, “please let me suck your cock, Daddy. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“You promise?”

You could hear a laugh hiding in his voice. You kissed his clothed cock, and he sucked in a breath. Stars, he felt huge.

Not that it really mattered. You could do a lot with an average or even small cock, but his was neither average nor small.

You looked up at him, smiling.

“I promise,” you said.

“Be good and kiss me,” he said.

You stretched your arms up above your head, open, for him to come to you. He huffed out a laugh and stooped down, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his face to yours. You kissed him, and you kissed him, and he wound a hand in your hair and pulled you off of him.

“Be good,” he said, voice quiet in the bare space between you. “You said you wanted to suck my cock.”

“I like kissing you,” you blurted.

And then you wondered how much of this was an act.

Sometimes, it was all an act. Sometimes not. But it didn’t happen often that it wasn’t. Hadn’t happened in years.

“You can kiss me while I fuck you,” he said, smiling down at you as he straightened up. Then his voice hardened. “Now. Suck my cock.”

You smiled and looked down at the bulge in his underwear. Then you reached out, hooking a few fingers in the waistband and pulling it down.

You were right. He was… he was mouthwatering.

“Oh, Daddy,” you whispered. “Stars.”

And then you took his cock in one hand, pressing a short kiss to the tip. He grinned down at you, a wicked curve to his lips. Wrapping your lips around your teeth, you took him into your mouth, rolling your tongue around the head, flicking your tongue over the slit. He sighed.

“I want your nose right here,” he said, pointing to his core.

Obedient, you took him all the way, pressing your nose to his stomach, swallowing with his cock in your throat. He let out a shaky breath, petting your hair. Then he wound both his hands in your hair, pulling you off of him. And then on again, slow, luxurious. Grunting as you swallowed around him, smiling down at you as you used your eyes alone to smile up at him.

“You look so good wrapped around me, little one,” he said, voice all hush and sex.

He pulled you off him, and you stroked him with one hand, the other going to his balls, gently rolling them around.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you said, voice low.

“So good for me,” he said. “Look at you. So obedient.”

Without another word, you took him into your mouth again, pushing down and swallowing. He sighed.

You wondered, faintly, when the last time he did this was. He’d mentioned that other courtesan, but how long ago was that? When was the last time he let loose? How much tension was he holding onto?

“If you keep doing this,” he said, “we won’t get to do anything else.”

You smiled up at him with your eyes and swallowed again, tears coming to your eyes as you struggled against your gag reflex.

“Stop, little one,” he said.

You pulled off him and pushed back down again.

“Little one,” he warned. “Be good.”

You pulled off and asked, “what happens if I’m not good?”

He took no time to think before he responded.

“I could spank you,” he said. “But I doubt your handlers would be happy if I returned you with a bruised ass.”

The thought made you shiver. You’d be out of commission until it went back to normal. It had happened before — though not exactly the same. A handprint around your throat, that time. A man who went too far.

They all went too far in one way or another. Men could very rarely control themselves when it came to you.

But this man… this man was different, you thought.

“No,” you said. “They wouldn’t be.”

“That’s a shame,” he said. “So you’d better be good for Daddy, little one.”

“What would you like me to do next?” you asked.

The age-old question. You’d asked it countless times.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked.

Again, that stillness deep in your chest. A decision to be made. You doubted the possibility of ever doing this again with him. So you had to make it good.

“Kiss me again,” you said, “so I have time to think.”

He smiled. Then he bent down, scooped you up, and tossed you onto the bed. You landed with your head on a pillow, legs spread, and he crawled onto the bed. On top of you, between your legs, reminding you how large he was.

“Where would you like me to kiss you, little one?” he asked. “Here?” He slid one thumb over one of your nipples. “Here?” He slipped one hand down, down, between your legs. One fingertip played over your hole.

You sucked in a breath.

“Yes,” you begged. “Yes, please, Daddy. Please.”

“So polite,” he chuckled.

Then he bent his head and pressed a short kiss to your lips, then kissed his way down your neck to your chest, to one of your nipples, which he licked over, which he kissed, which he took into his mouth, gently biting it and flicking his tongue over it. You let out a shaky exhale and tentatively lifted a hand to his hair, winding your fingers into it and gently pulling. He growled against your skin, moving to your other nipple. You sighed and closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling.

You couldn’t remember the last time a man had tried to please you. Well, a client. Before you got into the business, there had been a boy. But he had been all fumbling hands and shaky breath, and hadn’t lasted long. He was long gone, and now, you tried to think of the last man who had been so focused on you.

Your legs trembled around his hips as he continued working on your nipples. Your breath turned to whimpers, into begging.

“Daddy,” you whispered. “Daddy, please.”

“What do you want, little one?” he asked, lifting his face to look at you. “Ask nicely.”

You swallowed.

“I — I want your mouth on me,” you stammered.

“It was,” he teased.

“Daddy, please! You know what I mean.”

He grinned.

And he slipped his hand down again to pet at you, to stroke at you, to push just one digit into your hole.

“Do you want my mouth there, little one?” he asked. “Do you want me to lick you? To eat you out until you’re begging for my cock?”

Again, you swallowed.

“Please,” you begged.

“Well,” he said, pushing up and away from your chest, “because you asked so nicely.”

And then he walked back to settle between your spread, shaking legs, pulling your calves up and over his shoulders. And then he licked a stripe over your hole, stroking you with one hand.

“Oh, stars,” you swore.

“That’s it, little one,” he purred against you. “Tell Daddy how good he makes you feel.”

“Daddy,” you whined as he pushed his tongue into you. “Daddy — Daddy, oh, oh, stars.”

He continued eating at you for what felt like an eternity, mumbling against you about how good you tasted. How good you were for Daddy, what a good little thing. How he could do this forever, never stop, never get bored.

You were so close to your orgasm that your entire body shook. You squeezed your eyes against it, making it stay far enough away that you wouldn’t come too soon, but keeping it close enough that you could practically taste it.

“You’re so close, aren’t you, little one?” he asked, a chuckle in his voice.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered.

“Well, Daddy gets to come first,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good, little one. Are you ready for my cock?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Daddy. Please.”

He licked over your hole one last time, then took your legs off his shoulders, pushing them apart and stroking his cock, lining up with your hole.

“How bad do you want Daddy’s cock, little one?” he asked. “Tell me.”

“Daddy,” you whined, “please, oh stars, please. Please, I want you inside me. I want it so bad — I — I — please.”

He chuckled again. And he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You have no idea how good it feels,” he breathed, “to reduce a seasoned courtesan to a whimpering pool on my bed.”

You gazed up at him, breathing hard. You reached out with both hands, pulling him into a hard, frenzied kiss. Licking into his mouth, struggling to breathe.

In the kiss, he slowly pushed into you. You gasped against his mouth, adjusting quickly to his size, but still aching.

“That’s it, little one,” he breathed, lips brushing yours. “Take Daddy’s cock.”

“Oh, Daddy,” you whispered. “Stars.”

“You look so beautiful with me inside you,” he said, pushing away from you, his hands going to your hips as he pumped in and out of you, slow. “I could keep you like this forever.”

“Please,” you said, before you had time to think about it.

As soon as you said it, you wished you could take it back. You couldn’t stay here. Your itinerary had you leaving in two days at maximum. You had appointments, you had clients.

“I could, you know,” he said, pulling almost entirely out of you, and then slamming back in again. “I could keep you here. I could.”

You swallowed and looked away from him as he slammed into you again and again. He grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him.

“I could, little one,” he said. “You could be mine.”

“But my handlers —”

“Fuck your handlers,” he growled. “As the Commander of the First Order, I can do what I please.”

“Daddy,” you whispered. “Let’s talk about it later.”

Hardness flashed behind his eyes for just a moment before he softened, bending down to kiss you again, cradling your head between his big hands as he pumped in and out of you with short strokes. Then he straightened up again, his hands going once more to your hips and pulling you onto him with every thrust.

“I’m going to come inside you,” he breathed. “You’re going to be mine.”

You swallowed, hard.

And then you nodded.

“Do it, Daddy,” you breathed.

Within two more thrusts, he grunted and spilled inside you. With care, he pulled out, then grabbed one of the pillows from the head of the bed, lifting your hips and putting the pillow under you. Then he laid on his stomach, licking at you, pushing his fingers in and pulling them out, coated in his cum. He reached up towards your face, and you opened your mouth. He placed his fingers on your waiting tongue, watching up your body as you licked them clean, your eyes fluttering closed.

He continued eating at you, eating his come from your fucked-out hole. Your entire body shook, desperate to come. You bucked your hips against his mouth, and he chuckled.

“Does my little one want something?” he asked.

“Please,” you begged. “Daddy, I want to come.”

He pushed two fingers into you, curling them toward your pubic bone and thrusting them hard into you. Then he put his mouth on you, swirling his tongue around you.

He pulled off for the barest of moments to say, “come,” and then went right back to it.

You came, seeing galaxies. Both of your hands shot down to grab at his hair. He licked you and fingered you until you stopped shaking. And then he pulled out, pulled off, and laid beside you, pulling you into his arms.

“You’re sweating,” he said quietly.

“I tend to when I get my brains fucked out,” you said.

He huffed out a laugh.

“Come,” he said. “Let’s take a shower.”

You sighed and stretched as he rolled off the bed, then looked over his shoulder at you as he walked away.

You rolled to the edge of the bed, trying and failing to hop off of it and get to your feet. You fell in a crumpled mass on the floor, a surprised laugh falling out of your mouth as you found your legs unwilling to support you.

“Daddy,” you said, riding the high hard, laughing, “I can’t — I can’t walk.”

He looked back at you and smiled, showing his teeth. Then he came back to you and scooped you up, carrying you to the refresher. He sat you on the counter as he started the shower, testing the water with one hand. When he was satisfied, he came back to you and picked you up, carrying you into the shower, setting you down on a shelf in the corner, adjusting the water so it hit you.

You sighed as it rushed over you, as he got soap and began washing you, hand gentle between your legs, sensing how over sensitized you were. He got shampoo and conditioner and washed your hair, pushed water away from your eyes.

Then he cleaned himself, washed his hair, as you watched in a sleepy daze. Your high was disappearing, and without it, all you wanted to do was sleep. But you’d have to dry off, put on your clean change of clothes, and be escorted to the pod that would carry you away from the base.

When he was done, he turned off the water and picked you up again, setting you gently on your feet on the tile, taking a clean and obscenely fluffy towel, drying you off. Then he dried himself off, took your hand, and pulled you out of the refresher.

You pulled yourself away from him, heading towards your bag.

“You’re not leaving,” he murmured, having heard your thoughts.

“Of course I am,” you yawned. “My handlers will be expecting me.”

“Little one,” he reproached.

You looked at him in surprise. Like this, he didn’t look anything like the commanding force he served as on the bridge. The commanding force that you’d had to convince to choose you.

Like this, he just looked like a man. Young, tense. But just a man.

“You will stay here,” he said. “I will return you to your handlers when I see fit.”

Because you were nothing but business, even in the most intimate of moments, you said, “it will cost you.”

He walked over to where you still had your hands on your bag and pulled you away from it.

“I would pay much more than your small fees to keep you here,” he said.

“Commander —” you began, shocked.

He frowned.

“Daddy,” you corrected yourself. “Are you sure?”

He bent down and put his lips to the side of your neck. He bit down, gentle, gentle, and then began sucking at your skin.

You gasped, one hand shooting to his hair.

When he was finished, he pulled back with a smile.

“You can’t go back to them with that,” he said, so correct. “I’ll keep you until it fades. And then, if I’m still unwilling to let you go, I’ll do it again. Alert your handlers.”

You looked at him with absolute disbelief.

You were used to being discarded with disgust little more than a half hour after you’d finished with a client. Well, a man. Women fed you and sent you on your way.

You swallowed and reached for your bag, opening it and taking out your datapad. There was little more on it than a messaging system, a way to contact your handlers and the other courtesans you worked with. You took a picture of the mark on your neck, sending it to your chief handler, and typed out a short message that estimated when you would be back working as usual.

Then he took your datapad from you, setting it on the table.

“Come to bed, little one,” he said gently.

“Yes, Daddy,” you said, letting him pull you to his bed.

You both climbed in, you laying on the far side, away from him. That is, until he looked at you, amused, and pulled you into his arms, pulled you in so that you were laying half on him.

“You’re right,” he whispered as you closed your eyes and breathed him in. The room still smelled faintly of sex, but also of antiseptic and of soap.

“About what?” you asked.

“I don’t sleep beside the people I sleep with,” he said. “No one has slept in this bed with me for a long time. But you… I can stand to wake up with more than the memory of you.”

You smiled.

“I’m glad, Daddy,” you said.

“So am I, little one.”

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

Could I request something with Oliver Wood? Like anything at all!!

Sorry, this isn’t a romantic Oliver x Reader one, but I got another one coming! I just didn’t know what to do so I hope this one works well. I’m still trying to figure out consistencies with the timeline so some imagines may be a bit iffy!

Also the way their robes are laid out are like a symbolism of their personalities (I think Penny is a bit messy and Barnaby’s robe is folded because Andre did that for him lOL) 

Someone should draw Charlie in his headband bc that’d be funny

(H/H) = Hogwarts House

Oliver Wood had just begun his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Although the first years were not allowed on the Quidditch Team, he still enjoyed going out to the training grounds to watch some players practice. Oliver sat on the field, doing Flitwick’s Charms assignment as he watched the older players fly around the area. Their robes were on the ground so they wouldn’t get in the way of their game and were being watched by a nervous Gryffindor boy. There were two Hufflepuff robes thrown together, a folded Ravenclaw robe next to a folded Slytherin one, two rundown Gryffindor robes (one with the prefect badge on it), and two last (H/H) ones, one neatly folded while the other was thrown next to it. “Be careful, (Y/N)!” Ben shouted as his friend spun, almost knocking a boy off his broom. “Hey!” Barnaby yelled, “don’t murder me!” He laughed, swinging his bat around. (Y/N) turned her head and grinned at him as she nose-dived, rushing past Ben and whizzing past Oliver Wood.Oliver caught a glimpse of her, impressed by her reckless moves, just overall intrigued by her. “(Y/N)!” Another girl yelled, “This isn’t a true game of Quidditch!” Rowan exclaimed, holding a quaffle as she flew next to a blonde hair Hufflepuff girl. Oliver took a mental note that the two girls were supposed to be the chasers, but he only noticed one beater.Barnaby Lee laughed as Rowan attempted to calm (Y/N) down, “She’s just having fun!” He exclaimed, knocking one of the bludgers to the sidePenny Haywood hovered in the air as she pulled her thick blonde hair into a ponytail, “She isn’t the only one having fun!” She exclaimed as a flash of pink and yellow flew by at full speed. “Yahoo!” The pink haired girl yelled, swinging her club and hitting the bludger, “This is brilliant!” Tonks yelled.

Oliver nodded in acknowledgment as the other beater appeared. “Tonks! Be careful!” Rowan yelled as Penny snatched the Quaffle away from her with a smirk on her face. Rowan flew after her, knocking the Quaffle out of her hand an rushing towards the opposing Keeper.A dark-skinned Ravenclaw boy circled around their makeshift goal, waiting for someone to come near him, “Having fun, Bill? I know I sure am” Andre yelled, with a hint of sarcasm, across the field as Bill hovered over the other goal. “Why wouldn’t I be, Andre?” Bill grinned, “It’s fun watching them fly around!” He laughed, but at that moment, Rowan scored a point. “Don’t get cocky, Andre” Barnaby laughed as Ben added a point to (Y/N)’s team. It wasn’t an actual game of Quidditch because they didn’t have enough players per team, but (Y/N) made a bet with the other team Captain that her team could beat his. (Y/N)’s team consisted of, Bill Weasley, Barnaby Lee, Rowan Khanna, and herselfWhile the other team consisted of, Andre Egwu, Nymphadora Tonks, Penny Haywood, and Charlie Weasley. “Andre!” Charlie yelled, flying in front of his keeper, “We have to win!” Andre gave a shrug as his Captain yelled at him, “I’m just having fun, Charlie” Andre teased making Charlie fly towards (Y/N) with a huff. “Shall we make this more interesting?” Charlie asked raising an eyebrow at her, “Ben’s waiting down there to release it” (Y/N) smiled, pulling down her goggles, “If you can handle it, Weasley” She replied and flew off to her post. “Oh, it’s on” Charlie grinned, flying back, “Ben!” He yelled out and Ben scrambled to the trunk with the Quidditch supplies. “Got it!” Ben replied, carefully waiting for the two seekers to get into their positions. Oliver Wood turned and noticed Ben opening a small hatch.“The snitch!” Oliver yelled excitedly, closing his books to watch the rest of their friendly match. “Prepare to lose, Weasley!” (Y/N) yelled as Charlie furrowed his eyebrows. The snitch quickly flew around their field as the two seekers sped after it. The other players halted their moves as they watched their friends fly around the field, “Better get those sickles out, Andre” Bill grinned and Andre attempted to shove him off his broom. The bet was that the losing team had to hand over five sickles to their player counterparts. Charlie pulled down the goggles that rested over his headband as he flew in front of (Y/N) chasing after the glittering snitch. (Y/N) gritted her teeth as he passed her, diving down to pull up in front of him. Charlie flipped backward as the snitch turned directions, leaving (Y/N) in his dust. He was undeniably Gryffindors best Seeker. Oliver Wood was fascinated by him, but he was also fascinated by the girl named (Y/N). “Ugh!” She yelled as Charlie flew closer and closer to the snitch, but before he could catch it, the snitch dived down, slipping through his fingers. “No!” Charlie yelled, flipping after it, but (Y/N) gripped her broomstick tighter and flew at full speed. Charlie rushed after it, attempting to outspeed his opponent. (Y/N) stretched her hand out, the snitch fluttering away from her fingers as Charlie began gaining up on her. “Come on!” Oliver yelled absentmindedly, but quickly sat down again, giving a sheepish smile. “Charlie! Get the damn snitch already!” Tonks screamed, holding her club up in the air, “I don’t want to give anyone any of my sickles!” Charlie grunted deciding to do something reckless, he jumped up on his broom and began surfing on to get a farther reach. “That’s it!” Tonks yelled, but Rowan began to freak out“CHARLIE, BE CAREFUL!” Rowan screamed, “(Y/N) CATCH THE SNITCH!” (Y/N) turned her head to see her friend with a proud smirk, the snitch almost in his grasp. Jumping on her own broom, she steadied herself and reached out as well. Oliver Wood was awestruck, he had never seen anything like that before, “Bloody hell!” He exclaimed, watching the two with the snitch almost in their hand. However, Charlie Weasley faltered and tumbled off his broom, knocking (Y/N) off her own as they rolled over the grass together. “Holy shit” Tonks muttered as they all flew down to make sure their friends were okay. Charlie rolled off (Y/N), groaning against the ground and she landed in front of the Gryffindor that had been watching their game. “Damn it, Charlie!” She yelled out, “That hurt like mad!” She groaned, sitting up and finally realizing what was in her hand.Charlie turned and saw the glittering snitch in his opponent’s hand, “Damn it” He sighed, pulling his goggles up and taking five sickles out of his pocket, “You win this time” He admitted, handing his friend the coins.Ben rushed over to his friends as the rest of the group followed, throwing their brooms to the side. Oliver Wood grinned as he admired the snitch on the girl’s hand. “That was brilliant!” He exclaimed, “Are you on the (H/H) Quidditch team?! If you’re not you should definitely join!” He rambled excitedly as (Y/N) smiled, “I’m Oliver Wood! I’m a first year Gryffindor and I want to be Captain one day!” “I’m (Y/N) (L/N)” she replied with a smile, “Tell you what, why don’t you keep this? I can get Charlie a replacement one” (Y/N) said, handing him the Golden Snitch she had just caught. Oliver’s eyes lit up as she held out the snitch to him, “Seriously?!” He exclaimed and Charlie gave a nod, “Thank you!” He replied, taking the snitch and putting it in his pocket for safe-keeping, “Do you think you can teach me more about Quidditch?” He asked. “Of course!” Tonks chimed in, throwing her club to rest against her shoulder, “But we’re ruthless” she teased. “More like she’s ruthless” Penny added, giving Oliver a warm smile. Bill walked up to Oliver with a grin on his face, “Charlie and I are both on the Gryffindor team so we’ll teach you everything you need to pass try-outs” Bill said, crossing his arms. Tonks picked up her broom and flew up to catch the bludgers still flying around in the air, “Let’s just hope McGonagall doesn’t find out,” She exclaimed, knocking the erratic balls down so Barnaby could strap them down. “Yes, let’s hope” An older voice chimed in.“Oh shit” Bill muttered and turned to the voice with a smile, “Professor” He said sheepishly as McGonagall stood with her arms crossed. Barnaby quickly strapped the equipment down and Tonks was down in a matter of seconds, joining her nervous friends in the line facing McGonagall. “I suppose this is better than attempting to find the Cursed-Vaults” McGonagall started, sternly addressing the group of students, “But practicing without a teacher’s note is strictly prohibited,” She added on and the group gave a nod, including Oliver who was just as nervous as them. “Detention, tonight, all of you” McGonagall stated, “And clean this up,” She said before walking away. “Detention?!” Oliver exclaimed, “I’ve never gotten detention before” Tonks and Barnaby laughed as they began to carry the two trunks of Quidditch supplies, “See you in the brig, then” Tonks teased as she and Barnaby left the field. “You still owe me five sickles, Nymphadora,” Barnaby grinned and Tonks’s hair suddenly turned from pink to red in a matter of seconds. “Stop calling me that, Lee!” Tonks exclaimed as she chased after Barnaby who had run off in a fit of laughter. “Her hair changed colors!” Oliver exclaimed in surprise and Penny nodded.“She’s a metamorphmagus!” She explained, “It’s one of her abilities, but she can’t control them very well yet” She smiled.Oliver nodded in acknowledgment as he gathered all this information about these students.“I’m Penny Haywood, those two were Nymphadora Tonks and Barnaby Lee” Penny greeted, “Call her Tonks though, she’s very adamant on that” Penny smiled, shaking Oliver’s hand as she returned to her friends. Oliver felt a tad nervous, worried he would call her Nymphadora on accident, but he couldn’t believe how cool this group was. Ben picked up the scoreboard as Penny, Rowan, and Andre picked up the remaining brooms. “Charlie, can you get our robes?” Andre called and Charlie gave a nod, picking up the pile of Hogwarts robes from the ground and following after his friends. “Take off that bloody headband, Charles” Bill muttered, attempting to pull the burgundy and gold knitted headband Charlie had on throughout the game“Bugger off, William!” Charlie exclaimed, attempting to shove his older brother away, “It keeps my hair out of my eyes when I’m playing” He explained, “I haven’t said anything about your braid so leave my headband alone!” Bill huffed, crossing his arms, “(Y/N) braided my hair so I could see during the game!” Bill exclaimed as the two quarreling brothers walked away, “At least I don’t look like Ginny!” (Y/N) sighed and smiled as her friends left, “Sorry about detention, kid” She smiled, “Join us for supper tonight, we can talk about Quidditch and we can all get to know each other” She said, “We have a bit of a reputation so I hope that doesn’t scare you,” (Y/N) smiled and Oliver shook his head. “No! I don’t care what other people might say, you lot are brilliant” He exclaimed happily, “Of course, I’ll join you!” (Y/N) smiled, “Keep that Golden Snitch safe,” She said and ran off to follow her friends, giving Oliver one last goodbye. Oliver Wood was stunned by all the people he had met today and how much he had missed out on since he was only a first year. However, he did know one thing.He wanted to be great friends with them.