#eating my third sandwich hoping that maybe if I eat enough I will stop being a bitter hater

[ayakashibackstreet]

Mum made me realise that since my classes end early tomorrow, I can just go do my errands then, instead of doing them now when I Actively Want Everything To Explode, she's officially exempt from The Explosion

[harryskalechips]

one and done

A/N Hi everyone! I’m back with a one shot :) I know I don’t write as often anymore but since I’m self quarantining and I’m just about finish with high school, I thought I should try and give it another go? I’m also re starting up my jewellery business so ahhh many goals in mind but no motivation ??? Okay, I hope you guys enjoy this one!!! It is definitely a slow burn with smut but part 2? I dunno!!

Y/N and her brother’s best friend Harry, has had some pent up sexual frustration for a while. Wouldn’t it be best if they just had a one and done? you know to get it out of their system ;) 

*smut includes spanking, choking, male and female receives oral, harry dom but Y/N rides, magic face cream treatment for anti wrinkling results? Yes, and what else? sub space, hair pulling, gosh I forgot please read it 😁

Word Count: 6.1k // Masterlist // one and done PLAYLIST

“Don’t you think it's a bit of a cliché to be crushing on your brother’s best friend?” Ness teases Y/N as they walk out of her house. They were just on the steps about to go on a walk around the block. It was definitely one of their favourite things to do as the sun was just about to set.

Y/N had her butt sat on the spruced wooden steps as she ignored her best friend’s comment. First off, she knew it was a cliché. Secondly, her last encounter with him just seconds ago was already making her plan her own execution.

In her head, it was simply her just jumping out of her window multiple times until she lost consciousness. Ness on the other hand was standing up, watching the poor girl tie her laces. “Okay, I was just teasing. We can change the topic.” She lends her hand out for Y/N to take.

“It’s not just that Ness.” She gladly accepts the gesture and stands up. She wipes off her butt and glances back at the door. “I’ve never had a thing for him! Ryan and Harry have been best mates since what? 8th grade and for some reason ever since the cruise from last summer, I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“It’s because he was shirtless half of the time.” Ness laughs as she hands Y/N’s water bottle to her. “Okay, we can admit it though. As a senior he is 10 times more attractive than he ever was. He looks like a frat boy that could jump my bones.”  Y/N stops walking and just stares at Ness while the girl continues to walk. She grabs her hand and pulls her forward. “Okay, I’m sorry for the bad comment.”

“He is hot though. Really hot.” Y/N smiles.

“See, that’s why you should sleep with him.”

“What are you crazy? Ness, Ryan would kill me or him -maybe the both of us!” 

“It’s pent up sexual frustration. Harry legit watched us walk out your door while eating a banana and you still managed to trip on your shoes.” She laughs.

“He was making eye contact with me!”

“All I’m saying is that he throws parties at his house and always invites us despite y’know us being juniors. Just offer, do it, slip out, and never say anything about it ever again.” Ness elbows Y/N as she crosses her arms. 

“Maybe I will.” She laughs pretending to actually sound confident in the idea.

“Good, there’s a party this Friday anyway.” Ness shrugs her shoulders. “It’s the best remedy sis.”

~

“Harry, can we talk?” Y/N follows him into the kitchen while everyone else is God knows where around the house. 

“Ryan is in the backyard, trying to get Cassidy back.” He barely glances at her as he pours himself a drink. He notices an empty one in her hand so he decides to pour coke in hers. 

“I um wasn’t really drinking coke.” She states confusedly as she watches the bubbles in her cup dissolve.

“You think I’m trying to get you drunk at this party. One alcoholic beverage is good enough for yeh.” He smiles at her as he screws the cap shut and taps the top of her head. He was treating her as if she was a child, which definitely pissed her off since she was going to ask him a really fucked up favour in the matter of 60 seconds.

“I can handle myself, you know.” 

“Yup.” He rests his back against the counter and bites the rim of the plastic cup as he looks at her. “What do you need though?” He genuinely asks her. Although they weren’t that close, Harry knew her long enough to know she wouldn’t start random a conversation with him. It was more like a hi and bye situation. Not her trying to actually talk to him. 

“I have a favour and you can’t tell Ryan.” Y/N lets out a big breath as she watches his reaction change into a confused one. 

“Look Y/N, if you want to try and smoke a blunt, I think it’s best you find yourself a dealer that doesn’t know your brother.”

“No, not that.” She whispers as she moves in closer. There were more people entering the kitchen and this was about to get really fucking awkward. 

“What?” He looks at her and notices her body shifting closer to him. Her chest was touching the side of his arm, making his eyes look towards the cabinets instead.

“I-”

“Yes?”

“Do you wanna fu-?” His eyes widen as he downs the rest of his drink in one go. Harry doesn’t even let her continue as he steps away from Ryan’s little sister. 

“I’m sorry do I already know the rest of that question?” He tries not to obviously choke on the liquid in his mouth.

“Well, I don’t know you didn’t really let me finish.”  Her sassy tone comes out. Her cheeks were really red and although Y/N came to the party with Ness feeling really confident in the dress she picked. She just wanted to go home and not show her face to him ever again. This was the stupidest idea! Why on earth did she think Harry would want to sleep with her when there are so many girls that try to get his attention. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He bites the inside of his cheek and watches some familiar people leave the room. Once it’s clear again, he speaks up. “Like are you serious?” He could feel his throat becoming more stuffy. “You and me?” She nods. “Really?” She nods again. “That’s crossing the line and Ryan is pretty overprotective. I can’t do that to him.”

“Cool.” Y/N stands perfectly still as she tries her best to maintain eye contact with him. She takes a sip of the coke but later, grabs the bottle of alcohol and pours it into her cup regardless of him watching her. “Well, don’t let Ryan know.” She shrugs her shoulders and laughs. “Thanks for answering my survey!” She gives him an awkward smile then walks out of the room. How can a guy pass up on her??? First rejection has gotta sting. 

This wasn’t some weird guy she was asking though. This was Harry, Ryan’s best friend. If Ness was put in his position, she wouldn’t want her to say yes either. God, she was also going to kill her best friend for putting the most ridiculous game plan in her head.

And although the party continued on, Ness and Y/N didn’t let the earlier events bother them. The two spent hours just fucking around until they found a comfy spot in the living room.

“Y/N, don’t look.” Ness sits beside her on Harry’s couch watching a few strangers play an unfamiliar game on the floor. 

“What?” she quickly looks up to see what Ness is talking about. It wasn’t a surprise to see Harry holding Carla Laws’s hand as they walked up the stairs. They looked pretty excited for a room tour too.

Oh hell no, everyone knows a girl doesn’t go to Harry Styles’ room to just hold hands and a cute sentimental room tour!

“Are you sure he didn’t want to with you?”

“Yes Nessa.” She rolls her eyes and drinks her third cup. “Whatever, if anything at least I don’t feel attracted to him anymore. I found a new ick. He doesn’t even find me attractive.”

“Good. Rejection may hurt but it makes you wake up and face reality.” 

~

Okay if there was one thing Y/N could say now, it was that she is finally over Harry. Overall, he was nothing but a phase. Yes, she was crushing on him for the first semester of the year but after that weird conversation they had, it made sense why they couldn’t work out anyway. He’s a stuck up douche - a typical senior, all while she was a junior who was either too infatuated with him or too horny. Maybe both?

It’s been about two weeks and although Ness made sure to keep trash talking the guy, Y/N knew there was more to him than what her best friend thought. She knew him for years! Maybe the fact he was athletic, charismatic and just kind that made her realize what a perfect guy he was. She knew he was a bit more complex than what other people thought of him and it wasn’t bad at all. 

What she never thought was how awkward it was going to be the next time she saw him. “Hey, Haz.” Ryan opens the door for his buddy as Y/N covers herself with the blanket more all while pretending to watch TV.

For the past couple of days, Ryan was going over to his house and maybe Harry asked him too to come over, but what she didn’t expect was to see him again so soon. 

“Hey Ryan.” Harry takes his jacket and boots off as it just begun to snow outside. “Hey Y/N.” She quickly glances at him and waves. 

“Let’s go to the kitchen first, I wanna get snacks.” Ryan suggests as he walks away, assuming Harry would follow him like usual. 

After thirty minutes, Y/N thought the boys would be upstairs but as she entered the kitchen wearing nothing but her shorts and her brother’s old t-shirt, she was surprised to see Harry and Ryan eating sandwiches at the breakfast bar, looking pretty serious. Did Harry tell him? 

As she walked closer, she noticed both boys were just on their phones, scrolling through different social media platforms. She quickly brushes past them to put her dish in the sink. Ryan seemed unbothered but she could definitely feel Harry’s eyes on her. Once she makes eye contact with him, he quickly takes a sip of his juice and looks at his phone once more. “Y/N can you grab the chips in the cabinet please?” Ryan looks up at his phone and notices his sister was standing right in front of the cupboard. 

“Yeah, no problem.” She turns her back on them and opens the cabinet. She goes on her tiptoes reaching for the only bag of chips. Once she grabs them, she puts them on the counter and walks out of the room, only hearing her brother murmur a thank you. 

It was about 6:30 PM and the parents weren’t home yet. Ryan and Harry decided to chill in the living room when the doorbell rang. Pausing the game, Ryan opened the door to see Tom standing in front of him. “Y/N it’s for you!” He calls out for his sister since he knew Tom was her friend.

“Who’s that?” Harry mouthed.

“Her boyfriend.” Ryan shrugs as he unpauses the game. 

“Tom? What are you doing here?” Y/N walks down the stairs, pulling her shirt down. 

“Vanessa told me to come by. Apparently you need help with the calculus homework? I’m free tonight anyway.” He smiles and gives her a hug. Tom was a really good friend of Ness and Y/N. He was a smart boy that was really kind and obviously had a big crush on Nessa. There was anything he could do for her. 

Y/N instantly bit her cheek and laughed as she remembered Ness’ text message a couple of hours ago when she told her Harry came by. This was definitely one of Ness’ master plans. “You’re so sweet.” She pulls away and laughs. “We can go upstairs, I have a few questions to ask.” She quickly glances at her brother who doesn’t care all while Harry tried his best to maintain his eyes on the screen. 

“Y/N, Put some shorts on!”  Ryan finally yells out as the two went up the stairs. 

~ 

“I don’t get why he throws parties every weekend.” Ness takes a sip of her drink as they sit inside Harry's dining room. They probably weren’t going to stay too long. Everyone was inside due to the cold weather with the occasional smokers outside. Being the only few juniors, there wasn’t much the girls could do other than loiter around, drink a few cups and play the games they knew so well. Y/N wasn’t the type to have random hook ups but you know her exception with Harry. 

“Gemma has gone off for college and Anne is always working really late shifts at the hospital. He’s pretty much anywhere and everywhere besides his house unless it’s a party.”

“True.” 

“I’m going to say bye to my brother then we can head back to mine if you want?” Y/N offers as Nessa nods and downs her drink. 

“I’m going to drink a cup of water. Meet you at the front?”

“Mhm.” They both stand up and leave the room. Nessa was heading straight to the kitchen while Y/N began to wander around the house. 

“Y/N.” Harry calls out her name over the music. He was wearing a while long sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned. It made him look really attractive which almost made Y/N lose her breath. 

“Hey Harry, You know where Ryan is?” The only typical thing she would ever ask him before that one time. (Pretending as if she didn’t sexually harass him last time.) 

“He’s downstairs with the rest of the boys.” He glances around at everyone and looks at her once more. “I’m sorry, are you um- leaving?”

“Yeah me and Nessa are going to call it a night.” She wraps her hoodie around her figure and tries to make her way to the stairs. 

“Want me to give you girls a ride?”

“No no, it’s okay!” She smiles and waves her hand at him. “Nessa drove. You also have a party to h-”

“It’s kind of late maybe she should head home and we can-” And that’s when it hit her. Was Harry Styles trying to isolate her? 

“Oh.” She widens her eyes and slowly nods. “Okay. I’ll let my brother and Ness know. Should I meet you in your car outside?”

“Yeah.” He runs his hand through his hair and quickly leaves her side. After bidding her farewell to Ryan and explaining her interpretation of Harry to Ness, she was  quietly leaving the house as she watched Nessa walk by herself to the car down the street. What surprised Y/N more was to see him in his brown jacket standing by the passenger door. 

“Did you tell Ryan I was dropping you off?” He  nervously smiles as he opens the door for her. He makes sure no one is watching them leave together as he feels the butterflies forming in his stomach. 

“No.” She puts her hood on and sits in his car. She was picking on her stockings trying to avoid the awkward tension between them. Once Harry sat inside and they both put their seatbelts on, they were on their way to her house. It was weird knowing she was actually leaving a party with her brother’s best friend so she could suck his- 

 “What happens if they notice you’re gone?”

“Um, I’m sure they’ll think i'm elsewhere doing stuff.” She knew what he was thinking about and that made her a bit uncomfortable but it didn’t change the fact it was true.

“Are you still down to y’know?” Harry honestly never thought he would be this nervous talking to Ryan’s little sister. 

“Yeah.” She bites her lip as they glance at each other. 

“Cool. Are you like a virgin or something. I mean is there anything that I should know about?”

“No.” She shakes her head and low-key observes how he drives. 

This was going to be one hell of a night. 

Harry has seen Y/N’s room a countless number of times but to actually be with her by themselves in Ryan’s house made him feel really guilty. That guilt however, was shoved in the back of his throat. The girl in the room with his was obviously the best distraction. “I like your room.” he smirks at her as he looks at her soccer trophy collection from grade school. 

“Thanks.” She laughs lightly as she takes off her jacket. She quickly texts an update to Ness before putting the phone on do not disturb. 

“So before we start, what made you ask the offer?” He takes his jacket off and throws it on her chair. He sits on her bed and glances at the time. It was still early, so people probably weren’t going to be looking for him. 

“This is going to sound really dumb but I’ve had this crush on you since the cruise last summer. Well, you know Nessa... she had this thought and she thinks it is just pent up sexual frustration?” She shakes her head of saying the whole idea out loud. “So I thought maybe I should just get it out of my system.” Harry laughs as he takes in of what she just said. it made her smile as well.

“You were checking me out all summer?” He asks her in disbelief. “Little Y/N wanted to jump my bones?” He started to smirk at her. Although they didn’t know each other too well, the awkward tension was gone with just one simple laugh of his. 

“Stop laughing.” She throws a pillow at him. “I didn’t think you would say no.”

“I didn’t want to say no Y/N are you crazy? I’m laughing because I kept checking you out in those tiny bikinis you used to wear.” He throws the pillow to the side and shakes his head. “I don’t want to cross Ryan like that but I think i need to get you out of my system too.”

“Mhm and why’s that?” She locks her door and sits on the bed with him. “Because Carla couldn’t distract me from seeing you in my sheets.” He leans in and kisses her. “Tom coming by a few days ago with you wearing nothing but those little shorts was already making me lose my mind.” He whispers and kisses her again. 

Y/N immediately sits on his lap while trying her best to keep his mouth on her’s. Everything about this was so hot. She was about to just rip his clothes off. 

“One and done yeah?” Y/N rubs herself on him as her fingers tangle themselves in his hair. He kisses down her neck while grabbing her ass. 

“One and done. Just to get you out of my system.” He confirms with her as he gently throws her on the bed. He’s pulling his long sleeve off and taking his shirt off but once he begins unbuckling his jeans, he couldn’t help but notice Y/N trying to take her shirt off as well. “Fuck.” He murmurs as he gently unbuttons her long sleeve to help her take it off. In a flash, he’s on his knees unzipping her skirt and taking her stockings off as well. “You looked really pretty tonight by the way.” His cheeks flush as he throws her bottoms behind his back. Y/N laughs quietly and she sits up and brings his face closer to hers. 

“I actually would like to say the same exact thing.” He leans in to kiss her once more. Her lips were extremely soft and forbidden and it was making him slowly lose his mind all over again. Y/N thought Harry was just a phase but that seemed impossible as she was already dreading the fact this was a one and done situation. 

“You’re just so fucking soft and alluring.” He whispers in her ear as he unclasped her bra. “I already know I need to fuck you hard.” Y/N eyes’ roll back as she feels his wet mouth on her nipple as the other one massaged the other. Her hands were trying really hard to focus on the task at hand which was to undo his pants but it was definitely not working with the way he was distracting her. Not a single thought could process in her mind.

“I think since this is a one and done situation, you better make this memorable.” She whispers and bites her lip as she tries to hold back a moan. His fingers were teasing her covered entrance but Harry could feel her drenched spot already clenching at his presence. 

“Memorable? I’ll definitely leave my mark on you.” He sucks on her mouth more roughly than usual as he rubs his fingers on her centre. “You wanted me so bad baby? You just had to beg me huh?” He gestures his hips more forward to help her with his pants. 

“I’m kind of new to this. Be a bit patient.” Y/N laughs as she gently unzips his pants after numerous attempts.  

“You just ruined the moment.” He laughs with her as he kisses her forehead and takes his pants off as well. “Just kidding, this is probably the most fun I had.” He hovers over her again and teases her entrance. 

“What do you mean?” She lays on her back and roams her hands all over his chest. 

“Never got the chance to tease the fuck out of a pretty girl then fuck her hard.” He slaps her clit and bites down on her lip. She suddenly lets out a moan that makes her eyes flutter and her chest rise closer up to his face. 

He brings two of his fingers to her mouth and slowly lets her lick on it before rimming her entrance and shoving it in without any warning. His thumb slowly rubs her swollen numb as he can’t help but rub himself on her sheets as well. “You mind if I get a little bit of a taste? I’ve been dying to know. I saw you earlier at the party and I had to jerk myself off seeing you in those little stockings of yours.” 

“You. You jerked yourself off thinking about me, baby?” She looks down at him and smiles softly. He gives her a little smirk before pulling his hand away and heading his head down a bit south. His tongue dips slowly on the left side of her leg as his hands grip her thighs tightly, sure of the bruises to form soon.

“You’re like a fucking wet dream. How can I say no to you?” He urgently swipes his whole tongue on her centre. “I saw you earlier and had to go to my room.” He takes another lick. “Fuck baby, the best i’ve fucking tasted. Fuck oh fuck.” He precisely observes the way your whole swallows his fingers in and clench so tightly around him. His tongue dipping and switching with his fingers because he honestly can’t decide which is best. 

“Harry, fuck me please baby.” Y/N moans loudly as she harshly grabs on her boobs. She’s never been fucked this good. It was honestly feeling like a dream. With that being said, she’s only had sex a handful of times but Harry seemed like such an expert in the field. “Oh God.” She tries to pull away. She wasn’t sure if she could continue on with Harry obsessively licking and sucking on her wet centre. 

He looks up and watches her eyes roll back as her fingers begin to pull on his head aggressively. His only reflex is to spread her legs wider. After her first orgasm, Y/N lays on her back staring at her ceiling trying to catch her breath. 

“Fuck me.”

“We aren’t done yet, love.” He laughs at her cuteness. He can’t remember the last time where he wasn’t rushing to finish himself off. He was taking his time with Y/N since it’s what she deserves. He lays down beside her and kisses down her chest. “Tell me when you’re ready to go, yeah?” He dips his tongue on her shoulder until it reaches the huge hickey he left on her collarbone. He gently licks around it and sucks on it again. 

He was a bit surprised to see Y/N sit up and grab a condom from her drawer. “Thank you for fucking the shit out of me, I’ll gladly return the favour.” She smiles and tucks her hair behind her ear as she focuses on putting the contraceptive on him. Just touching it was already forming butterflies in her stomach. 

“I could’ve been fucking you on that cruise.” he mischievously smiles at her as he watches the way her pretty tits move. 

“You were sharing a room with my brother.” She hisses as she holds onto his shaft trying to gently ease the pain as she fully sits on him. 

“But you were alone.” He grabs onto her waist and helps her. “You’re so beautiful fuck.” He sits up on her headboard as her palms rest on his chest. Both of their eyes couldn’t help but watch the way he was easily penetrating her. 

“Was touching myself because of you.” She mumbles out as her speed begins to increase.

“What did you say baby?” He almost chokes on his breath as he can feel her fully taking him in. 

“Couldn’t stop thinking of you on that cruise. I needed you to rail the fuck out of me.” She moans louder as she starts to feel his hips meet her. 

“Fuck me. So perfect, Shit.” He quickly turns them around and shoves himself back into her. His hand immediately tightens around her neck and once he is about to pull it away, she keeps his hand on her. 

“Fuck me harder.” She cries out as his arm begins to push her legs up. He spits in between their centres before thrusting as hard as he can. All you could hear was her headboard banging against the wall as his hand continuously choked the fuck out of her. 

“I bet you like getting spanked too huh?” He bites his lip and semi turns her body before slapping her ass. 

“Harry fuck.”

“Come on, baby. Be a good girl and come around my cock.”

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Y/N cries out as her fingernails scratch his back. “Come in my mouth. I want to taste you so bad please.” tears begin to form in her eyes as she continues to clench around his dick. Harry immediately pulls off the condom and helps her sit up on her knees. She absolutely could not feel a thing below her stomach but with Harry’s hard cock in her mouth, she was already closing her eyes and trusting him with everything she was. She’s never been this fucking vulnerable, she was literally about to pass the fuck out. 

She was softly holding onto his thighs but her hands found comfort on his waist as he began to fuck her mouth harder. Harry on the other hand, kept his eyes on how her mouth was taking him in. He watched the way his fingers wrap around her hair tightly as he brought his hips closer and closer until he could feel her gagging on his dick. Without a warning, he immediately pulls out and spills all over her face.

“Why’d you do that?” She opens her eyes and pouts. She was pretty upset how she couldn’t taste him spill into her mouth. So her finger immediately takes a swipe of his spill and puts it in her mouth. Without hesitation, she’s taking his forming soft dick in her hands before softly licking it clean and softly sucking on his balls. She takes his shaft and swipes her cheek once more before licking the rest of his spill from his shaft. 

“You’re going to make me hard again if you keep doing that baby. Might not be as nice as I was this time.” 

“Maybe I want another round?” She gestures him to lie down as she continues to kiss and suck on his cock. 

“Thought it was a one and done.” He softly smiles as he removes some of the hair from her face.

“How about a one and done night?”

“Deal.”

And although they thought this was crossing a line, they already knew the moment their lips touched, they wouldn’t be able to stop.

~

“Wait so he changed his mind!” Nessa laughs as they drive back home. “Bitch how are you at school today? I literally saw you limping at lunch.”

“Shut up.” Y/N mouth widens as she rubs her face. “I don’t know what happened okay? We said one and done but we honestly went a couple of rounds before I had to wake him up so he could drive back home.”

“But is he out of your system? Don’t get me wrong Harry’s a fine guy but like dating wise? He’s been with other girls but somehow always goes back to Carla. They’ve been like that before you and Ryan moved here.” 

“Yeah, he’s out of my system.” Y/N laughs but truth be told, some nights when she can’t sleep, she’ll find herself staring at the ceiling. 

“Why are you guys home so early?” Nessa asks once they step inside the house. There was a good comparison between Nessa and Ryan with Y/N and Harry. First off, Nessa literally saw Ryan as her older brother which meant they were pretty vocal towards each other. Secondly, Nessa was very comfortable at Y/N’s house almost as if this was her second home. 

“Carla and Cassidy are coming over.” Ryan smirks as Harry cleans the living room behind him. “During the party last night, I may have asked if they wanted to come over for a double date game night thing. Mom and Dad are cool with it since it's a Monday which is their date night too.

“Oh have fun.” Y/N buds in and laughs. “Make sure to actually vacuum please. You don’t want the girls finding your crumbs on the carpet.” She takes her jacket off as Nessa follows behind her up the stairs. Harry obviously tried to ignore the fact, she bluntly ignored him. 

“Double date? Damn, you guys really did just fuck and brushed it under the carpet.”

“It meant nothing right. So?” Y/N tries to brush off the topic as she sets her backpack down. “Why won’t you sit down?” “On that bed?” Nessa smiles awkwardly as she glances at the double bed near the wall. 

“I changed the sheets.” Y/N takes her shirt off and replaces it with another loose top. She unzips her pants and wears her black tights instead.

“So should we invite ourselves to their double date?” Nessa raises her eyebrows as she lays down on the bed. 

“No because it’s weird and I don’t want Harry to think I’m jealous.”

“I think you are.”

“Nope, I told you I don’t like him like that anymore and he’s out of my system.” She tries to ignore the fact, how she swallowed him without hesitation.

“Okay but wouldn’t it be better to prove to yourself you are just by being around him.” And although Y/N wanted to protest that, the two best friends ended up being invited by Ryan to play downstairs anyway. 

“You girls want a refill?” Ryan sits up from the coffee table as he cleans up the empty red cups. Ness, Carla, and Cassidy wanted a new one which made Y/N go help her brother out in the kitchen. 

“Are you having fun?” Ryan asks as he throws the cups in the recycling. Y/N pours the preferred drinks in the new cups as she looks up at her brother. 

“Yeah, I was wondering why you invited Ness and I. Don’t you think we’re cock-blocking?”

“Harry suggested you guys hang out with us while we played games. More competition is fun y’know. Plus you and Nessa can leave whenever.”

“Oh cool. Thanks, I guess?” 

“Yup.” He grabs two cups as she does. She couldn’t help but notice how Ryan suddenly started cheering. “Yeah, Styles get it! Woooo!” Y/N turns her eyes to notice Harry and Carla making out on the floor by the coffee table. 

“Are you guys dating again?” Cassidy laughs as she tries not to watch them make out.

“Sure.” Carla pulls away and pecks his cheek. Nerissa was just watching Y/N’s reaction and she knew it was a bad one. 

“Y/N could you walk me to the car? Appa just texted me and he’s wondering where I am. I forgot it was his birthday.” Nessa speaks up.

“Oh shit.” Y/N was clueless of her excuse. Which thankfully made her seem more genuinely in a rush to get out of the room. She sets the drinks on the table before going upstairs with Ness.

“How did you forget it was Appa’s birthday, Ness?” 

“I don’t know.” She packs her things up. “Why don’t you come with me? He’s gonna blow his cake soon.”

“Oh, I don’t want-”

“Come.” And if there was one thing Y/N knew well about Nessa, it was that she wouldn’t ever forget it was Appa’s birthday, especially if she just celebrated it a couple of months ago. Without a fight to say no, Y/N immediately grabs a hoodie as they walk down the stairs. 

“Ryan, I’m going to Ness’ to celebrate Appa’s birthday. I’ll be home soon before Mom and Dad comes home.”

“Oh okay.” Ryan waves at his sister as his arms rests on Cassidy’s shoulder. 

“Bye guys!” Ness and Y/N wave as they both exit the house immediately. Harry stays unbothered as he takes another sip of his beer. 

“Thank you for getting me the fuck out of there.” 

“It’s okay. We don’t actually have to leave you know. It’s 6 PM, I can drive the car to a different neighbourhood and you can cry all about him there.”

“I love you.” Y/N begins to tear up. 

“I love you too.”

~

“What’s Tom doing here?” Ryan’s eyes are in shock as he watches his sister hold hands with the familiar boy. What’s confusing is that Y/N went to Ness’ for a birthday. 

“He just wanted to come over.” She smiles innocently as she waves hi to the same party. It was just about 7 PM and the double date duo was watching an unfamiliar movie on TV. Nessa called Tom and Y/N had to explain their situation. Although he didn’t really want to do it. He knew Y/N wanted to prove something to the Harry guy. So as long as they didn’t do anything romantic or weird that would cross his boundaries, Tom was okay with it. 

“Aw, I didn’t know you were dating Thomas?” Cassidy smiles as she walks in with a bowl of popcorn. She hands it to Carla who is cuddling up against Harry on one of the sofas.

“We aren’t dating.” They both look at each other and laugh. Tom shakes his head and pulls Y/N up the stairs instead. 

Once the pair is gone, the dates begin to watch their movie again. “Ryan, you really don’t care if your sister is by herself with that boy?” Carla laughs as she feeds herself and Harry popcorn.

“I’m definitely not going to interfere with that, they’re probably doing the nasty already.” His eyes widen as he stuffs more popcorn down his mouth and although, Harry was keeping his eyes on the screen, there wasn’t anything sitting well with him knowing the girl he was with on the weekend was already in somebody else’s arms. 

The goal was to get each other out of their systems, why the fuck are they so jealous then?

great plan Vanessa. 

Part deux ici 

[brostateexam]

Will just go ahead and say this has a huge tw for eating disorders and fatphobia. It is also a fantastic if harrowing read.

However, Capron’s ultimate humiliation came earlier, and the culprit was Rowley Jefferson himself. At a 2012 screening for the third “Wimpy Kid” film, hosted by the N.B.A. player Carmelo Anthony’s foundation, the fourteen-year-old actor filed to the back of the movie theatre, hoping to keep a low profile. As the giant screen filled with images of Rowley shirtless at a pool, Capron began to notice rows of giggling kids turning to stare at him. At first, the actor was confused. “Nothing funny was happening,” he said. And then it hit him. “Oh, my God—they’re laughing because my man-boobs are jiggling,” Capron recalled thinking. “At that moment, the truth of my life became that being fat is a very bad thing.” Two years later, he says, he “just stopped eating.”

Capron, still a growing teenager, began restricting his consumption to five hundred calories a day, his energy sustained by dreams of losing enough weight to play Spider-Man. It took only a few months of counting each Cheerio to drop Capron from a hundred and ninety pounds to a hundred and ten, then his management started to submit him for loftier parts. When he was caught in the act of throwing out a ham-and-cheese sandwich made by his father, Capron began a recovery process that ultimately saw him spend what felt like more of his late-teen years in nutritionist offices than he ever did on set.

“I really thought I was going to be the male lead with the fat best friend,” Capron said. “But, once I was thin, Hollywood couldn’t quite peg me.” Even worse, the old chubby kid offers kept coming in—Capron’s lack of work gave casting directors the misleading impression that he was “still fat.” Whether persistence will result in a breakthrough, Capron cannot say. When each day is spent concealing an eating disorder from a world that refuses to forget you were fat, maybe there’s no energy left over for finding a new, self-assured niche. “I never stopped feeling scrutinized. It killed my confidence,” he said. “I entered acting completely uninhibited. By the end, I was feeling insecure about things I shouldn’t have been insecure about.”

[bakugosbratx]

Hi hi! Congratulations!! 🎊

Could I please request a fic with Eren or Levi and could they have some yandere tendencies? Like they’re too protective, gets jealous easily, would absolutely fuck you until you’re screaming so that the guy who’s been checking you out heard?

NSFW 18+ Let them hear you — Yandere Eren Jeager x Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Sexual content, bdsm, degrading, unprotected sex, oral, non-con, abuse, possessive, toxic relationship, gaslighting, Jean abuse, punishment, violence, etc.

Words: 1.9k

Check out my other works here

A/N: Hey love. Thank you so much for the request! I hope it meets what you are looking for. I am only on the third season so I apologize in advance for anything that seems uncanny. Enjoy.

P.S. I am still on break but I am trying to complete some request that have been sitting in my drafts. I miss y’all and will be back before y’all know it. Thank you for all the love and sweet messages.

“Eren, what are you—“

“Shut the hell up, Y/N.” Eren seethed through gritted teeth as he pulls you along. The death grip on your poor arm is making you cry out in pain. This only infuriated him more.

You did nothing wrong. You were eating your lunch with Mikasa when Jean strolled on over. It is not a secret that Jean likes you. Everyone knows that Jean likes anyone with a pulse. You have told the man multiple times that you are not interested — along with Eren — and you have a boyfriend, but it does not stop the man from trying. Especially when Eren is busy.

“Hello Y/N.” Jean greeted with a flirty smile. Your eyes couldn’t help but roll.

“Hello Jean.” You sigh as he sat across you two.

“What’s with the sad face, pretty thing? Eren got you down?” Jean chuckled before taking a bite of his sandwich.

You scoffed. “Me and Eren are doing just fine, thank you very much.”

“Well, your face says otherwise. If you ask me, I’d say you can do better than that douchebag anyways—“ Jean’s spill got interrupted with a hard punch to the side of the head then another one to the nose. Gasp filled the room as eyes landed on who did this to the man. No one was surprised to see it was Eren himself.

Eren grabs Jean by the collar of his shirt, lifting him up to meet his height. Eren’s natural blue eyes were filled with rage. “You son of a bitch. Why the fuck are you flirting with my girl, Jean? She told you more than once she’s not interested.”

Jean manages to release himself from Eren’s grip, stumbling to keep his balance. This is not the first time these two have had altercations with one another.

“Ha, you don’t see the way she looks at me. Besides,” he pauses to wipe the blood leaking from his nose, “she was totally flirting with me.”

“Bastard!” Eren bellows as he goes to attack again, but the higher ups stop him along with you and Mikasa.

“Eren, stop.” Mikasa and you demand, hanging onto his arms.

“Let go of me! I’m going to make that son of a bitch pay.”

“That’s enough, Jaeger.” Captain Levi scolds. Eren snaps out of his rage to meet the small man’s eyes. “In my office. Now.”

Though Eren is still angry, he still knows when to show respect. Especially when it comes to the higher ups. Everyone in the room knew this.

“Yes, sir.” Eren sighs, still breathing heavy.

“Eren,” You began with sorrow filled irises. Though this is in no way shape or form your fault, you cannot help but feel the guilt within your bones. If only you would have done more than maybe Eren would not be in this situation.

Eren just glared down at your small frame compared to his, clearly not happy with you. It was a look you know all too well and you know you will be in for it later. Your heart pounded against your ribs at the thought.

“We’ll talk later.” Eren hissed before following Captain Levi to his office.

Jean did not mess with you for the rest of the afternoon. Eren was sent to clean up the horse stables while the rest of the team did their chores. Eren made sure to have his eyes on you anytime you were in close proximity. His glare was one you always refused to meet with your own two eyes. It made you feel small. Just like how Eren wanted.

Your anxiety has been through the roof all day. No one can blame you, though. Eren is a loose cannon on a good day. So, your super barely being touched was noticed, but not discussed amongst your peers.

Strong hands touched your shoulders. You jumped out of reflex. Looking up, you see your boyfriend looking down at you.

“Eren!” You exclaimed with joy and fear. He noticed both emotions.

“Follow me.” Eren orders, patting your shoulder more rough than he should have. You did not even have time to comply as his hand snakes around your bicep and pulls you along.

“Eren, you’re hurting me.” You whine as he pulls you towards the closest bedroom available.

“Eren, what are you—“

“Shut the hell up, Y/N.” Eren seethed through gritted teeth as he pulls you along. The death grip on your poor arm is making you cry out in pain. This only infuriated him more.

Slamming the door open, he ushers you along inside and swiftly closed the door behind him. Your hand wraps around your now warm, pulsating arm. You can feel the heat from Eren’s glare down onto you. You start to tremble.

“Eren, I—“

“I said shut the hell up, Y/N.” Eren growls. He has taught you more than once to respect his orders, but you just cannot seem to listen. You will pay for that sooner than later.

Eren leans against the door, arms crossed as he heavily sighs. “What were you doing with Jean earlier today?” He finally asked. You turned to face him.

“N-Nothing!” You stammered. You know this made you sound guilty, but you are actually innocent. Just Eren knows how to intimidate you and when you’re in this position, your nerves take over.

Eren scornfully chuckled. “Please, do you really think I’m that dumb, Y/N?”

“I’m telling the truth, Eren! You know I don’t like Jean.” You spat. Your blood is boiling at this point. This accusation has been thrown at you more than once in your relationship and quite honestly, it’s getting tiring.

“Watch it.” Eren warned. You know you are not supposed to raise your voice towards him. He has corrected that behavior more than once and will do it again if necessary.

“Why was he sitting with you at lunch?” Eren interrogates after he notices you lose some confidence to yell at him.

You let out a deep sigh. “He just showed up. You know how Jean is.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“What was I supposed to do?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Tell him to fuck off!” Eren barks.

“And I did!” You argued back.

A small shriek escapes your lips as Eren charges towards you, wrapping his hand around your throat, and pushing you down onto the nearest bunk bed. You struggled to untangle his fingers as they squeeze your throat tightly.

“What did I say about talking back, slut?” Eren growls.

“I-I’m s-sorry, E-Eren.” You managed to get out as you lose circulation to your lungs.

“Oh, you will be. I’m going to make sure this filthy little mouth of yours will not be able to talk for weeks.”

Eren finally let’s go of your throat. You immediately cough. There is not enough oxygen in the room to get to your lungs fast enough it seems. Eren would argue and say you deserve it.

You hear a belt unbuckle along with his pants unzipping. His pants hang low on his hips as he watches you collect air. By the way his boxers are fitting quite snug, you know what is coming.

“On your knees.” Eren demands, pointing towards the creaky wooden floor below. You shook your head no, your eyes pleading. Eren did not respond to that well as he grabbed a hand full of hair and forced you to the ground.

“Do you ever fucking listen? I said on your damn knees.” Eren growls. You did not even have a chance to explain that you are not in the mood because Eren’s length is now being stuffed down your throat. You choked on Eren’s cock as every inch was entering your mouth.

Your nails clawed at Eren’s clothed abdomen. His hand never let up on your hair as he thrust in-and-out of you. You are choking, coughing for air, but Eren refused to show any ounce of mercy. In fact, he found it quite amusing. You should know better than to disrespect your boyfriend.

“Where is all that back talk now, princess? Don’t have shit to say with my cock down your disrespectful ass throat, do ya?” Eren mocks as takes another rapid thrust down your windpipe. Drool covered your chin and Eren’s dick. You can feel his girth stretch out your throat and he loves it. He loves seeing you struggle.

Pre-cum started to leak from his erected member. You are mentally thanking your maker. You needed a break and a gasp for air, but those prayers were answered quicker than expected. Eren pulls out his cock from your sore mouth. You let out pitiful coughs as he stroked himself to the sight of you.

“Strip then get in doggy.” He demands. Not wanting to make this worse for yourself, you do as your told. You are not even sure whose room this is. You just hope they do not walk into see the sinful things you and Eren are doing.

Each article of clothing fall to the floor and you get in the position Eren wants you in. All of your delicate tight holes are displayed for his taking. He walks over and spreads your ass out some more to get a better view. You yelp when a hard slap hits your ass.

Without warning, he brings you closer to him by latching his hands onto your hips and his cock slips into your tight cunt. Your walls do their best to expand to his girth, but no amount of sex with Eren can get you prepared for that. Your pussy takes in inch-by-inch. His stamina and merciless rhythm is forcing you to be accepting of his cock. Your knees shake under the pressure and your hands tightly grip onto the covers below.

A hard slap to your ass exploits the moan you have his behind your lips. “I kept your throat intact for a reason. Use it.” Eren scolds before hitting your ass again. You whimper.

“Eren.” You mewl.

“Yeah, who is making you feel this good?” He teases as he continues his venomous thrust.

“You do.” You sob. Your pussy is beginning to become accustomed to Eren’s erection and he is hitting all the right spots. He always does.

“Can Jean make you feel this good?” He groans, his knees slowly buckling beneath him.

“Never.” You wail. Your weeping cunt confirmed this as well.

“Damn,” he pants, “straight.”

Cum leaked from Eren’s cock deep into your cunt. You let out little moans as you became stuffed with Eren’s seed. Though you did not like he was not using protection, you have no say in the matter. This is for his pleasure and your punishment. You just have to take it like the good little submissive girl he taught you to be.

You milked every single drop of Eren before you were granted permission to put on clothes. Your hands intertwined as he lead you to the door. There stood Jean, Armin, and Conny. They all looked horrified as well as you. Eren’s smug smirk never left his features.

“What the hell are you doing in my room, Eren?” Jean exclaims in furry.

“Handling business,” he wraps his arm around Jean’s shoulder and let’s go of your hand to pat his chest, “By the way, thanks for letting me fuck my girlfriend on your bed.”

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[360iris]

do you have any wips? sorry i’m just curious, i’m in love with your writing

Luv, Hold Me Down (Sirius Black x Reader, WIP)

Warning: Mature themes? I don’t know with this one.

Word count: 2,209

A/N: You’re gonna hate my ass because I have zero intention to finish the smut on this one shdhd. Maybe when I’m less busy I’ll come back and update it (although not atm). There are typos galore too so I’m sorry in advance!

—————————————-

The infamous Bubblegum Bomb Incident of 1972. Casualties: one.

During Year Two, Sirius had resolved to get revenge on Cissy’s insufferable boyfriend ever since he tripped him in the halls to get a laugh out of his Slytherin lackeys; and what better way to do that than ruining his precious platinum locks.

It was suppose to be a quick and untraceable procedure. He’d get to personally serve Lucius his own brand of justice and the job would be completed without having to suffer detention.

If only you hadn’t been rushing through the halls that day.

Lunch had just ended, and you were haphazardly ducking and dodging through the wave of students, on your way to visit Remus. He’d been sentenced to a strict, three day period of consistent bed-rest in the infirmary after a particularly bad transformation.

You’d just wanted to bring him a slice of his favorite Hogwarts style coconut cream pie, but one wrong turn and you were suddenly bombarded with three quick pelts of homemade exploding bubblegum bullets.

Sirius had designed them to be quick and lethal with their distribution of rubbery goo so that the target's hair was sure to be ruined.

The first shot sent the small plate in your hands completely airborne. The next two hit you square in the chest, knocking you fully onto your back.

The aftermath was so extreme that it took the combined effort of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and eventually, the guiding hand of Madam Pomfrey to free you from the sticky sludge and off of the stone pavement.

By the time they’d got to the infirmary, your entire head of hair had been deemed unsalvageable by sweet Poppy, and the only thing she could figure to do was shave it clean off by hand.

You’d spent the next two days unexpectedly alongside a tired Remus, confined in the sick bay, crying your eyes out hysterically. You’d had no idea who had done this to you or why.

That was until the third day, when Poppy finally allowed visitors in, in hopes of lifting your spirits.

Your guests included:

An empathetic Lily and Mary, both girls bringing you and Remus an abundance of flowers from the greenhouses, with explicit approval from Professor Sprout; alongside the homework you’d missed and plenty of junk foods.

An overzealous Marlene who’d spent the entirety of the three days drafting up and collecting signatures for a petition to permanently ban disruptive joke shop type inventions.

And lastly, an uncharacteristically stonefaced James and solemn Sirius who both quietly observed the crucially placed scarf on your head meant to distract from your current state of baldness.

“Go on then. Tell her, man. It’s only proper.” James said abruptly with folded arms, for the first time ever foregoing his usual impeccable home-taught manners and any form of courteous greetings altogether.

You watched confused as Sirius stood some several feet away, staring directly down at his shoes. After another coarse verbal prod from James, he stepped forward, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“I- You have to understand, I couldn’t have known, Y/N! It happened so suddenly and before I knew it, it was too late!” He pleaded desperately and you weren’t quite understanding what he meant.

“I don’t follow, Sirius. What are you on about?” You asked, watching as he began wringing his hands.

He looked over to James again, seemingly pleading for aid that wouldn’t come. James looked positively severe, intent on standing by his decision to have the boy do this by himself.

“I- I was the one who blew the gum bullets.” Sirius finally whispered, looking positively terrified of your reaction. “But I didn’t intend on hitting you, I promise! It was for that git Malfoy! Remember when he tripped me in front of all of those sixth years last month? I’d been working on a way to get him back ever since! You’ve got to believe me, Y/N!”

But you’d stopped listening after the initial reveal. Your blood ran cold and it was hard to focus on anything in particular before suddenly all of your senses came rushing back in, and you were furious.

And even though James and Remus had been gauging your response, neither could have been quick enough to match the speed at which you pulled off both of your slippers and hurled them at the older boy’s face.

Successfully managing to clock him so hard, he reflexively reached up to clutch his sore, but still intact nose.

After that day, you had deemed Sirius public enemy number one, he managed to outrank even the silver-spoon fed Slytherins and that antagonizing blight, Peeves.

While there were tonics for quickening hair growth, you cursed Sirius Orion Black, every time you had to awkwardly apply a plethora of random oils to your scalp and walk around campus bald for an entire semester.

When he looked your way, you glared back mercilessly. If he dared to even address you, your responses were far from being deemed PG-13.

He’d spent the first six months wearily but consistently trying to apologize, however the damage had already been done, and it’d destroyed any semblance of friendship he’d crafted with you beforehand.

So after a while, he gave up. If you were going to hate him regardless of his actions, he figured he might as well stand up for himself during the bickering matches that transpired whenever the two of you were less than six feet apart.

Over the years, you’d remained bestfriends with Remus and James, though they could never hang out with the both of you at the same time.

For example, if you were eating breakfast with the two boys in The Great Hall and Sirius arrived late after sleeping in, you’d promptly roll your eyes and slide away to talk with Lily.

——

“That most definitely is not healthy, James.” You grimaced, tilting your head back laughing. The book in your lap, long since abandoned from the moment your bestfriends entered the common room.

“Muggle five second rule, Y/N! You were the one who told me about it to begin with!” He grinned from his spot sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

You couldn’t help bursting into a fit of giggles, desperately trying to respond. “Rem- Remus! Please! Inform him that it doesn't apply to dropping a sandwich down an entire flight of stairs!”

“Believe me I tried, but he seemed pretty determined to eat it, hair and all after catching up to it.” Remus replied softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as you began making gagging noises of disgust.

“No! James Fleamont Potter, tell me you didn’t actually eat hair!” You laughed, extending your socked foot to shove him.

“I will suffice by just saying that, there may or may not have been a stray hair or two on it when I picked it up- Oh! Sirius, how was detention?” James trailed off to greet a certain boy and your demeanor immediately soured.

Your textbook on alchemical runes suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing in the world.

“It was worth it. Mcgonagall must be getting tired of me because she had me choose a book and read for three hours. Don’t let me interrupt the fun though. Looks like you’ve finally coaxed the Ice Queen to defrost for a bit. Shame I wasn’t here to see it.” He remarks, and you didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Don’t worry, Black. I’ll never be able to truly relax knowing you’re still out running amuck. Next time you get written up, I’ll be sure to beg Mcgonagall to keep you chained outside with the rest of the wild animals.” An acute look of disgust etches across your face as you close your book, promptly shoving it into your bag.

“If you’re so desperate to see me in a collar, the person you need to be begging is right in front of you, doll.”

You could not have rolled your eyes harder at his remark. In a huff, you tug the strap of your bag around your frame and stand indignantly.

“You’re actually right for once. James? Keep your mutt on a tighter leash, before I’m forced to be the one that puts him down.” You sneer, flipping your hair over one shoulder and striding up to the girls dormitory before he can get in another word.

Remus sighed, unhappily leaning back against the couch he was currently sprawled across. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Sirius watched as your figure disappeared up the stairs before turning to the boy, a dumb smile playing on his lips.

“She doesn’t hate me nearly as much as she tries to make you believe.” Was all he offered giddily before skillfully changing the subject.

———

Much like the infamous playboy Sirius Black, you were known for how frequently you broke the hearts of anyone you hooked up with. They found that sex with you was a spiritual experience, but were usually crushed when you made it clear you weren’t interested in recurring partners.

When Gryffindor’s Quidditch team won a mid-season match against Ravenclaw, James was relentless in persuading you to come to the after party. And though you weren’t originally keen on the idea, you figured it’d be an ample opportunity to relieve some stress.

The night had gone well. You’d garnered a nice buzz from the punch James made in his dorm and had your eyes fixed on Theodore Nott who’d been snuck in by Marlene.

Sirius, who was working his way onto his third cup of punch, watched you make eyes with the Slytherin boy from across the room.

He sat silently seething as you adjusted in your spot on the couch, crossing your legs while holding that snake’s gaze. In the end, all it took was the simple curl of your index finger for Theodore to hand his drink to an unimpressed Marlene and approach you.

Sirius watched as the two of you exchanged a handful of words before you sultrily dragged the boy away by his collar.

It took a minute for him to register that the styrofoam cup in his grasp was crushed.

After grabbing a napkin, he irritatedly ran a hand through his hair and his breath was ragged.

Why did he care that you were probably seconds from fucking a random guy? He definitely wasn’t one to judge, he’d been with plenty of people over the years.

However, no matter how many times he rolled the idea around in his head, he was getting angrier by the minute.

Remus approached him to spark up a conversation, but he was already slipping past him, towards the direction he watched you disappear to earlier.

He found you in the hallway, lip-locked with Theodore who had a grip on one of your exposed thighs. Meanwhile your hands were tangled in his hair.

Sirius’ body switched into autopilot, moving at such a speed that his brain couldn’t even keep pace.

He had harshly pulled the boy off of you, slung you onto his shoulder and made his way to his dorm. Partygoers standing confused as you beat his back, yelling at him to let you go. Once he’s on the stairs away from prying eyes, he delivers a sharp slap to the exposed skin on your thigh.

“Stop screaming bloody murder, Y/L/N.” is all he says and you bite your lip at the sting.

By the time he locked his door and tossed you onto his bed you’re looking at him like he’s insane. Scurrying to get off the mattress but he quickly grabs you ankle, pulling you back to where he dropped you.

“What the fuck has gotten into you!?” You hiss, watching him run a hand through his locks.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to stop being a brat and realize you like me. Tired of watching you hop on random dicks that aren’t mine. You want to get laid tonight? Fine, fuck me then.” He growls and you’re instantly overwhelmed.

“Did a screw come loose in your head? I don’t know what the hell you’re on but I’m not fucking you all people!” You respond by grasping a pillow from his bed and chucking it at his head. He easily catches it with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since our first year, Y/N. And I’ve observed you long enough to know if you genuinely hated me or not.” He confesses and you freeze. His eyes were crystal clear and you’re at a loss of words so he continues.

He gently grasps one of your hands, bringing it up over his heart. You can very faintly feel his heart racing and your brows furrow. He was actually being genuine.

“You want fuck me so bad you’ve officially gone stupid?” You ask but he sees the tiniest smirk on your lips. And for whatever reason, you actually let him move in to kiss you.

He jumps a bit when you bite his bottom lip and you giggle before he’s pressing you back onto the bed.

It’s a fight for dominance, neither of you wanting to be the one that relents.

[onbeinganangel]

warmup ficlet for @the-starryknight! she picked 'i know we’re not together but i might die today so i’m going to kiss you just in case there is no later' from this wee list of kisses and asked me to drarry it up and I rubbed my hands together in glee knowing fully well i was about to put together a hell of an angst sandwich

not beta'd, not edited, just angst with a happy ending directly from my heart to yours! (cw: some canon-style mentions of blood, violence, injury and also kind of patient/healer relationship)

damned if you do it and damned if you don’t

(draco/harry, 1.8k)

Draco had pictured it so often throughout his life he sometimes couldn’t honestly believe he had made it all the way to twenty-seven.

He remembers saying it after being thrown on his arse by the family Abraxan. He’d been very little, then. Five or six, maybe. He’d cried, big fat tears running down his face, and when his Mother finally managed to pull his tiny fists down and stop him from hiding his crying behind them, he’d announced, “Maman, I am dying.” She had assured him he very much wasn’t. They’d had scones with big heaped spoonfuls of clotted cream and raspberry jam in the garden and he’d soon forgotten about his fall.

A few years later, he fell off his broom and straight into the lake. Dobby had spelled him dry to avoid him getting in trouble and he was still heaving, coughing up water and panicking when he told the Elf, “Dobby, I am dying.”

Then there was the incident at Hogwarts. He still felt the sharp talons on his skin way after the hippogriff was far, far away, as he bled, holding onto the gashes on his arm and announced to the whole class, “I am dying, it’s killed me!”

Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, it was more constant. It was the heavy burn of the Mark settling on his arm, it was the feeling of all his organs lighting up in pain and his bones breaking under Crucio after Crucio, it was the sounds of Nagini slithering outside his bedroom door at night, the sickening thud of death, the unsettling screaming, his aunt’s shrill nails-on-chalkboard voice, Greyback’s growls. A neverending chant of “I am dying, I am dying, I am dying, I am dying” inside his head.

It was confiding in a ghost, it was crying because the fear of failure was so intense he reckons he would have preferred to be dead then, it was the only person he believed was actually kind and pure and incapable of willingly inflicting pain on anyone slashing him open and leaving him for dead on a bathroom floor. Draco had looked at Snape, murmuring spell after spell over him, and he’d whispered, “I am dying.”

It was learning how to be numb, how to not feel, how to keep everyone out of his mind and away from his thoughts, it was the paralysing terror of crawling around in the shadows, the bone-deep dread of dropping leftover bread rolls on the floor by the bars on the dungeon and kicking them swiftly into the other side, where they kept his classmates. It was sneaking a blanket or two down and saying to himself, “If they find out…”

It was the persistent horror of knowing you don’t believe in what you’re doing and knowing you’re damned if you do it and damned if you don’t. Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, Draco would lie in his bed at night — his own at home, his own in the dorms, Pansy’s in the girls’ dorms when it got bad, and he would say it to himself, hoping it would become true, “I am dying.”

But he hadn’t. Despite all odds, Draco is happy. Twenty-seven. He’s got friends, a flat, a job he loves and he’s good at. He’s no longer spat at on the streets. He survived, he made amends, he managed it all. Most of all, he had managed not to die.

Until now, that is. This time he’s pretty certain he won’t be afforded such luck. He feels the curse hit him square on the chest. It’s his own fault, really, for not realising there was someone already in the room he entered. He’d been too busy throwing a rather flourished Incarcerous across the room at the two potions dealers he’d been running after for the past five minutes to notice the third man.

Draco is falling backwards before he has time to even think about anything, his wand clanking noisily seconds before he joins it on the floor.

Then: “Incarcerous.” He hears it — muffled but there. And after, “Fuck, Draco.”

He’s way too familiar with the way his Auror partner works not to know it’s him when the strong arms wrap around him and pull him up. “Oh, Merlin,” he hears. His eyes flutter back open for a couple of seconds and he can tell he was right, even if it’s all blurry: red robes, orange hair, worried blue eyes.

Fear. “I am dying,” he thinks. “Harry,” he says.

“You’re gonna see Harry alright,” Ron says. “He’s gonna have words about having to heal you again,” it’s almost like a joke. Like a Ronald-typical joke. But there’s an edge of worry there. There’s panic. Ronald doesn’t panic.

And it dawns on him. Draco tries to look down but it’s all red. The burgundy of his robes, the sticky dark red of drying blood on his hands and the fresh and vivid blood still pouring out of his chest. He’s not gonna make it to St. Mungo’s, he’s never going to make it to Harry.

“I am dying,” he says, and Ron makes a noise that can only be described as half agony, half agreement.

It smells like St. Mungo’s when he wakes up thinking “I am dying.” Very faintly, he hears the same voice he always hears in his dreams. Maybe he is dead. The voice never sounds like this in his dreams, though: disembodied, frantic, quick. Draco catches half words, half sentences, half conversations that don’t make sense. A different voice is saying “just do it” and “you’re powerful enough” and “sod protocol” and “I am his partner, I brought him here.” The voice from his dreams responds with things like “unstable” and “I don’t know” and “can you please try” and a “I can’t get in touch with her” and “not without consent forms” and a louder, angry “he’s not going to d—“

Draco tries to move towards the voice.

“Draco!” Says the first voice and three pairs of feet come towards him.

“Don’t try to open your eyes, don’t try to talk, don’t try to move, okay? We have stopped the bleeding for now, but we’re still trying to reverse the curse.”

“Harry.” His Harry.

“Yes, hello. We have got to stop meeting like this.”

“I am dying,” Draco croaks out.

“I won’t let you.”

Draco wants to speak. He wants to say “I am dying, I don’t want to die without telling you,” but he has no strength. His thoughts are going faster than the newest Firebolt as he hears Harry tell whoever else is in the room (Ron?) to leave. He wonders if this is it. This what they show you in the films: your life flashing before your eyes right before you die. He thinks of Harry shaking his hand after his Auror graduation ceremony. “Well done, Malfoy,” he’d said. He thinks of that first time he’d been invited over to Ron and Hermione’s, a few weeks after he became Ron’s partner, and Harry had laughed at his stories, lips wine-red and plump, eyes kind like he’d never expected. He thinks of every moment of almost in between them, every moment where Draco considered blurting it out, saying what was on his mind. The Christmas Gala as he towered over Harry and fixed the little chain on his robes for him, and that night at that dingy club for Hermione’s birthday where they’d stared at each other for forty minutes and when Draco had decided he couldn’t take it anymore, he found out that Harry had left. Or just last month when they’d gone out to buy a housewarming present for Luna and ended up eating leftovers on Harry’s sofa, exhausted from people and walking. There are too many. Too many instances of hesitation, too many “nearly-but-not-quites.”

And he’ll die and won’t ever get the chance to tell him, to kiss his handsome, stupid, precious face, and it aches — it hurts almost as much as that spot just to the left of his breastbone where the Curse had hit, where he was profusely bleeding not long ago.

“Closer,” he manages, very quietly.

Harry approaches, but not close enough, not even close enough for Draco to grab at him.

“Cl— clos—uh—closer,” he tries again.

And Harry’s right there, by his bed and he looks beautiful in his Healer robes (unheard of, really) and Draco is blinking his view into a sharper focus and listing all the things he knows he loves, the things he doesn’t want to forget: the white-ish storm of a scar that slashes through Harry’s eyebrow, the shiny (shinier than usual?) green eyes, the touch of stubble, the slightly crooked nose, the lips — oh, the lips, plump and sweet looking and Draco will never get to find out just how sweet. And then, he has to do it. Because if he’s going to die anyway, he may as well use his last breath on this.

He pushes himself off the pillow slightly and his hand pulls Harry’s green robes closer until their lips meet, clumsily and hard — Harry not expecting it, Draco waning from the efforts of pulling Harry closer, but Draco will die knowing he’s kissed Harry. And if there’s no later, at least he’s done it. At least Harry knows.

“Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,” Harry says, and pushes him back down. Gently, like everything he does.

“But—“

“I know, darling. Me too.”

Darling? Harry… too?

“I’m going to heal you, okay? I’m going to heal you and we’ll do that again. I’ll take you to dinner, or brunch, I know you like brunch. Or just coffee. We’ll go to the pictures. I’ll hold your hand. We’ll go flying. We’ll go clubbing and I’ll dance with you, I promise I will, and I’ll let you tell me how bad I am. I’ll find you a copy of that book you were talking about with Hermione, no matter how much it costs. I’ll throw my name around if I have to, okay? And we’re going to do that again, properly. When I’m not your healer and you’re not hurting. I’m going to heal you now, you just—“ he stops, then, breathing wild and panicked.

Then, a small sob. A kiss to his forehead. Draco doesn’t remember closing his eyes.

“You just hold on, yeah? Don’t go anywhere.”

And Draco would cry if he had the strength, he would say yes to all those plans and more, but he focuses on the feeling of Harry’s magic sinking into his body like and he holds on, just like he was told to. He holds on, even if he doesn’t know exactly to what. And he thinks maybe he’ll get lucky again, and he’ll stop picturing himself dead like he’s been doing his whole life. Harry’s magic feels like love, like poetry, like cascading words of affection whispered into the space between his ribs, it feels like hope. And Draco holds on and thinks to himself, as loud as a thought can go, “I am not dying.”

[watermelonlipstick]

Hot Blood

This was written as a request for an anon who asked:

hi! i was wondering if you could write a dean fic where he’s with the reader in their car and hot blood by kaleo comes on, the reader sings along, their voice is really good, and dean realizes he’s in love w the reader

First of all, great song! I hadn’t heard a ton of Kaleo before, but I’ve put them into my rotation so thanks for the recommendation! I hope it’s okay that I took a few liberties with the format because it felt right with the angle; it’s from Dean’s point of view so the reader is in third person. 

Title: Hot Blood

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1251

Summary: Hearing the reader sing along to Kaleo makes Dean realize his feelings about her are a lot more complex than he’s ever realized. 

Warnings: swearing, pining, fluff, sexual frustration?

            “The fuck is this?” Dean asks as she turns up the radio.

           “The band’s called Kaleo—you’ll like them, they’re from Iceland!” she yells, starting to groove and hum along as the volume starts pounding through the speakers. She doesn’t hear when he repeats her—Iceland?

           When she starts singing along to the radio her voice is somehow not what he expected—lower? Higher? He can’t even really tell, but that wasn’t the thing anyway, it’s that she’s…haunting. That’s it. The song is up tempo, the kind of rock beat he can tolerate even if it’s a poor facsimile of the greats, and that’s the crux of the hypnosis as she sings. Somehow, even howling along to a repetitive chorus, wind blowing the hair back from her face with the window of the Impala cracked a few inches, sides of her thumbs tapping the drumline out over the thighs of her jeans, it’s like she’s chanting a spell, triggering that deep-primal interconnectedness of a particularly vicious exorcism or bit of creation magic.

           Maybe that’s just the closest he can get to placing it. The shock of how fucking good she is notwithstanding—and she is seriously good, makes Dean think of Janis and Chrissie Hynde and maybe even Joni Mitchell who he knows is a genius even if he might never admit it aloud—appreciating a killer singer never makes Dean feel like this, like he has to consciously focus on the road after the hundreds of thousands of hours he’s driven in his life for the way his brain wants to forego everything else on earth for that fucking voice.

           Thank God for the bridge or Dean might’ve missed the turn, nothing else on the miles of wheatfields surrounding them he could even pretend to be distracted by but her. As it is, he takes it a little tight, and she smoothly reaches a hand through the open window to brace herself on the doorframe as the Impala carves out some rural dirt. Momentum shifts her a few inches across the leather toward him, sweet-salty shampoo and cherry chapstick scent of her dusty in the dry late summer afternoon wrapping him up like a boa constrictor, like tentacles, and he’s gotta immediately stop that connection because tying this moment to his Japanese erotica is going to fry his brain so bad he might actually have to pull over.

           “See? I knew you’d like it,” she half-howls over the radio, laughing like nothing in this world matters except whether Dean’ll listen to some dumb song for her, and the sliver of tongue that catches the glisten of sunlight as she does is making Dean feel sort of queasy the way he did at 16, snuck into a bar with his dad as a reward for a hunt gone well and trying his best not to stare at the soft swells of the bartender’s body as she shook a tumbler of Vegas bombs, winking at him from across the room. John had made some half-joke about being careful with girls like that and Dean knew he was just being confronted with his son growing up, but he’d heard him loud and clear—a girl like that will drive you crazy, make you eat yourself up with want from the inside out. In that bar he’d been grateful for the low lighting and high top table to shield the physical weakness of his want but he’s a grown ass man now and he thinks maybe going crazy wouldn’t be so bad, maybe he could throw Baby in park and all the good karma he’s ever racked up would bless him in that moment, let him taste that tongue catching tiny sparks of sun beautiful and dirty and impossible to resist like a diamond from the dark mine of her mouth, feel that fucking voice vibrate under his fingertips as he tangled himself into the brambles of her.

           And then the bridge is over. She’s turned the volume back up and is pulling exaggerated rock star faces as she sings to him. It takes a second before Dean realizes smile you fucking idiot and is sure he’s grimacing, hopes that the sunny day is enough to cover the flush he can feel in his cheeks and what the fuck is wrong with him? She’s not a siren, not some fuck-you-so-good-you-don’t-care-if-she-boils-your-bunny chick across a smoky bar, those jeans aren’t magic and in fact they were washed with his, ‘I don’t want to do a whole load, just let me throw my shit in with yours’ while she sat on the laundromat counter in worn cartoon pajama pants. That tongue—fuck, her tongue, why does this fucking song have so many “L” sounds in it—is the same one that sticks out round and juvenile like Charlie Brown’s when she’s reading something complicated.

           When the song ends Dean’s white knuckling the steering wheel like he’s in a tropical storm and he can’t help but feel relieved. Back to the safety of his tapes, who would never try to pull whatever black magic bullshit that was on him. He takes a deep breath and promises himself to get laid at the next chance he gets lest he seriously fuck up like some hormone-stupid teenager. She’s put in a Chicago B side and he says a silent prayer because that’s exactly the kind of soft-sappy he needs to counteract this. Enough even that he trusts himself to confirm that it’s over, that momentary frenzy nothing but a blip of testosterone fueled by her disclosing a hidden talent. Maybe he can even compliment how well she sings without sounding like he wants to crawl inside her.

           He almost does a double take when it’s still—like that, filter of unbelievable need unmoved from any part of her and he wants to fucking eat her alive, let her flay him open and wear him like a coat if that’s what she wants and he knows he is so fucked.  She’s turned down Chicago to tell him something cool Sam figured out about snow spirits and yeti mythology the other day and it’s all he can do to focus on the right times to make vaguely affirmative noises or smile, because he’s trying to work out in his head how he’s going to be able to keep his brother from reading on his face how bad he’s got it the second they walk through the motel door. For all he knows Sam is going to say some slick shit about how he’s happy Dean’s finally figured it out for himself, the fucking know-it-all.

           It takes a second for him to catch it when she asks him a question, and she looks a twinge concerned when he doesn’t respond right away. Gonna have to do better than that, dumbass. “Sorry, what?”

           “You feeling okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

           Not if I can help it. “Yeah, sorry. Just, ah, need a sandwich or something, I’m starving.”

           She throws her head back into the seat to laugh and a million coins pouring out of a Vegas jackpot couldn’t sound more precious. “We ate like an hour ago!” She shakes her head teasingly back at him, wide smile beaming like a dentist’s ad. “I fucking love you, dork.”

           He knows it’s not what she means, but he lets the words make his blood run hot.

-

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[nugnthopkns]

i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening. 

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things. 

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game. 

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine. 

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you. 

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped. 

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs. 

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it. 

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what’s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings. 

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!” 

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes. 

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint. 

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed. 

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows. 

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night. 

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off. 

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset. 

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch. 

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced. 

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver. 

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub. 

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks. 

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen. 

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. 

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance. 

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount. 

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

 “I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together. 

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket. 

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless. 

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through. 

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[robinrunsfiction]

It’s A Love Story - Part 3

Part 2

"What the hell Frank," (YN) heard Ray shout from where she was sitting on the steps in front of the school, digging through her backpack. Her head snapped up as she looked between them, trying to figure out what was happening.

"What did I do?" He asked defensively.

"Tucker just told me he delivered a pizza to you on Friday night, and he saw girls shoes and a purse by the door. You lied about being sick to go on a date?!"

(YN)'s eyes wide as panic ran through her. She hadn't seen Tucker, she was in the living room, so there couldn't have been any way he would have seen her. Ray would have said if he knew it was her, right? Tucker would have surely told her brothers.

"You got a girlfriend?!" Mikey asked, clearly surprised.

"Umm, yea, I do," Frank answered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Gerard asked.

"Who is she?" Ray asked, not even giving him time to answer the last question.

"She doesn't go here," Frank lied.

"Is she cute?" (YN) finally piped up, a wicked smile on her face.

"She's gorgeous," Frank replied emphatically and (YN) grinned even wider.

"Are we gonna meet her sometime?" Gerard asked.

"I dunno, maybe, if she wants."

"What's her name?" Mikey asked.

Frank opened his mouth to answer and (YN) was genuinely curious to see how he was going to respond when the bell rang, signaling that they had five minutes to get to their homerooms.

"I'll tell ya later," Frank replied as they all made their way into the school.

(YN) hung back and Frank slowed down so he could walk with her. "Saved by the bell," she smirked.

"Who knew Tucker was fuckin Sherlock Holmes," he muttered and (YN) laughed.

“What name were you gonna give them?”

“Yours,” he smirked.

“Stop it,” she said, smacking his arm and he laughed.

“I’ll see ya in algebra,” he said before heading down the hall. (YN) watched him go and sighed. One day they’d all know she was the girl at Frank’s house. One day she’d be able to kiss him before they parted ways. One day couldn’t come soon enough.

~

A few weeks passed, and (YN) was still living for the thrill of being with Frank. There were small moments like (YN) coming out to the garage to watch the band, or rather Frank, practice, to them spending more time doing homework together, to Frank taking her hand as they sat next to each other during the weekly movie night, even though her brothers were right there. Then there were the more exciting moments, like when she found Frank between the shelves, deep in the library.

“Hey,” she whispered, making him jump.

“Shit, oh hey (YN)," he grinned. "What are you doing here?”

“I'm in study hall, but I came to get some books for my research project for history. I saw Mikey up front and he said your English class was in here so," she shrugged, leaning against the shelf.

"You thought you'd come find me in the stacks?" He smirked.

"I thought I'd come find my books for my research project. Come on Frank, what did you think was gonna happen?" She replied with a smirk of her own.

Frank glanced over his shoulder, before grabbing her waist and kissing her hard. (YN)'s mind began to spin, partially because of how amazing the kiss was, but also because her brother was also in the library. Hell, anyone could wander over and find them making out. It'd take all of a minute for the entire school to find out. And (YN) loved it.

She ran her hands through his hair, as they made out against the historical fiction books until they heard footsteps and they pulled apart and both turned their attention to the books. Whoever it was, kept walking, not even slowing down to do more than glance their way.

“Close one,” Frank whispered.

“Mmhmm,” she agreed, stealing a look out of the corner of her eye.

“Kinda awesome.”

“Oh yea,” she giggled.

That afternoon at lunch, (YN) was at her usual spot with the guys, minus Mikey. Ray and Gerard had been practically bouncing out of their seats, clearly having news to share.

“Where is Mikey?” Ray asked, looking around anxiously.

“I dunno, but I’ll fill him in later,” Gerard said. “Let’s just tell ‘em!”

“There’s a battle of the bands coming up and we’re signed up!” Ray announced.

Frank, Bob, and (YN) all exchanged a look of surprise.

“Wait, when is it?” Frank asked.

“Next month!” Gerard grinned.

Bob put his head in his hands. “We have so much more practicing to do.”

“I think we got a real shot!” Ray explained. “And when we win, we get prize money and  real studio time to record an album!”

“We’ll be taking off in no time!” Gerard nodded.

“Can I help?” (YN) asked. 

Before anyone could answer, Mikey walked into the cafeteria with a cute blonde girl. 

"See ya there Mikey," the blonde waved before going off to join her friends and Mikey had a smug smile on his face.

"About time!" Ray said.

“What was all that about?” Gerard asked.

"Me and Kristin are going to the fall formal together."

“Oh nice,” Gerard replied.

(YN) almost choked on her sandwich. "Wait, what?! That's not fair! I wanted to go to fall formal!"

"Who's stopping you?" Mikey replied.

"You and Gee! When you two, the least intimidating nerds at this school, somehow convinced the entire male population to stay away from me!"

She could feel people were starting to look at her as her voice raised with every word but she didn't care. She was angry and sick of how she'd been treated.

"Just go with Christine and Marie," she heard Gerard say, and she began to see red.

"I don’t want to because they have dates and I don't want to be a third wheel!" She snapped. "The double standards in this family are such BULLSHIT!"

"Miss Way!" Mrs. Simon barked. “The office, now!”

(YN) felt her cheeks burning red and her shoulders slumped in defeat as almost everyone in the cafeteria started laughing at her while she was marched down to the office by the teacher. She sighed in frustration at yet another way her brothers were ruining everything for her.

~

A few hours later the school day was over and (YN) reported to detention.

"Is this your first time in detention?" The teacher, Mr. Rodriguez, asked as she slid into the desk and she nodded. "Ok. The rules are there is no talking, you may do your homework, read, or sit silently."

(YN) wondered who she would even talk to since the room was empty. She pulled a folder out of her backpack and was about to get started on her homework when someone else walked into the room.

"Mr. Iero, please take a seat, you know the rules," she heard the teacher say. She looked up to see Frank coming to sit down at the desk next to hers.

"Hey," he whispered.

She grinned and then turned her attention back to her homework. They both worked silently until the teacher announced he would be right back.

"He's gonna be gone at least 10 minutes," Frank said once the door was closed.

"How do you know?"

"He's taking a smoke break."

"Oh, right. Well what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't let my girl go through her first detention alone," he smiled.

(YN) covered her face, partially because she was blushing, and partially because she was embarrassed to be in detention in the first place. "What did you do to be here anyway?"

"I threw a ball at Mikey's head during gym."

(YN) could hardly stifle her laughter. "Oh my god, were you playing dodgeball?"

"No, soccer."

(YN) burst out laughing, thankful Mr. Rodriguez was not in the room. "Thanks for that."

"He deserved it," Frank nodded.

"I agree,” she grinned.

When they walked out of the school almost an hour later, (YN)'s mom was sitting in her car waiting to pick her up. "Ugh, I can't wait to get grounded."

"Maybe it won't be that bad?" Frank said sympathetically as they walked down the steps.

"Hello Frankie, did you wait for (YN)?" Her mom called out the open car window.

"No, I had detention too," he shrugged.

"Oh," her mom seemed taken aback. "Well would you like a ride home?"

"Please," (YN) whispered, hoping to delay the trouble she was certain to get into.

"Sure, thanks!" He nodded, getting in the backseat.

"That Mrs. Simon said this wasn't your first outburst this year, (YN)," her mom said as they started to head home.

"Yea, I know."

"That's not like you," her mom replied, more concerned than angry.

"I know," she muttered, head against the window.

"No one asked me, but I think Gerard and Mikey should back off," Frank piped up from the backseat.

"What do you mean Frankie?"

"Don't worry about it," (YN) mumbled.

"They're too protective of her. I know she's a girl, and the youngest, even if it's just by a few minutes, but they don't need to treat her like every single guy is a predator," he explained.

"Did something happen?" Her mom asked, now very concerned.

"No, some guy in Gee’s class was talking to me at that pool party this summer and Gee freaked out. It doesn't matter, the social damage is done. I don't even care anymore."

"Do you want me to talk to them?"

"No, I don't wanna make it worse. Just let me handle it," (YN) answered.

The rest of the drive was silent until they arrived at Frank's house. "See you tomorrow," he said, reaching forward to rub (YN)'s arm sympathetically before getting out.

"He's a good boy," her mom said as they started back toward their house and (YN) hummed in quiet agreement. "And that necklace he bought you for your birthday is lovely."

(YN) didn't even realize she was playing with it until her mom drew her attention to it. "Yea," she agreed.

"If you ask me, I think he likes you, I've always thought that."

(YN) blushed. "Don't tell anyone, but I know he does."

"Because you like him too?" Her mom asked. (YN) nodded as they pulled into the driveway. "I'll keep it our little secret."

"So am I in trouble for getting detention?"

Her mom laughed lightly. "No, but don't let it happen again. If you want to yell at your brothers, wait until you're home."

"Will do," she nodded, a relieved smile crossing her face.

(YN) didn’t say anything to either of her brothers that night at dinner, eating quickly before running back up to her room. It still wasn’t fair that she got in trouble, or that Mikey could date whoever he wanted to and she couldn’t. She curled up in bed with her sketch book, and tried to let her frustrations come out through her pencil.

"Hey," she heard Mikey say from her doorway after a while.

"Go away," she muttered, not even looking up until something landed at the foot of the bed. It was her favorite candy bar.

"Sorry for being an ass," he said.

"Whatever," she said, grabbing the candy, but still not even looking his way.

"Did you hear what Frank did?"

"Gave you what you deserve," she replied.

"I guess you could say that, but we’re just looking out for you."

She glared at him. "I'm not that fragile Mikey! I can handle myself, now go away!"

“Sorry,” he muttered as he retreated back to his room next door.

(YN) got up and slammed her door and settled back onto her bed when there was another knock. 

“Oh my god, leave me alone!” (YN) shouted, but the door opened anyway.

“Can we talk?” Gerard asked, peaking in.

“No! Go away!” She said getting up to push the door shut, but Gerard was stronger than her.

“I’m sorry! I was thinking about how you said you wanna help with the band, and I was wondering if you’d design our logo for us, and maybe like some shirts or something?”

(YN) stopped pushing on the door. “Wait, really?”

“Yea, like when we win this thing, we’re gonna need some merch to sell to help get our name out there, and posters for gigs, stuff like that,” Gerard shrugged.

“Yea, I guess I could try,” she nodded.

“And I know Mikey tried to apologize, but didn’t do a good job of it. We just didn’t want a guy like Adam to get a chance to do anything, because then people would start talking and-”

“Hang on,” (YN) cut him off. “This isn’t the Regency era, I don’t need my older brothers telling me who I can and cannot spend time with, out of fear that I’ll disgrace the family!”

“That’s not it! I just… I just feel like it’s my duty to protect you. You and Mikey both, but it’s different with you because you’re a girl and I’ve seen the way the guys look at you and I can imagine what they’re thinking and it’s gross and it makes me mad.”

(YN) sighed. "I just wish that if you felt like making a decision in my best interest, you’d actually ask me what I want first."

"Sorry," Gerard mumbled.

"Doesn't do much good now, but whatever," she shrugged.

Gerard stepped back from the door, and she shut it behind him. It didn't really matter, she had Frank, but it was the principle of the matter that still left her steaming.

Part 4

[forever-rogue]

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander​ for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit. 

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad. 

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend. 

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life. 

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business. 

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge. 

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him. 

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man. 

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance. 

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet. 

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary. 

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned. 

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter. 

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but  -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine. 

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on,  he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago. 

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him. 

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too. 

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it. 

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was. 

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[bellshells]

Nobody Can Know

REQUEST: Maybe something with George Weasley and a slytherin reader? He has a crush on her and Fred teases him for it, they start dating in secret but Fred tells their siblings and they all disapprove because they think she's evil (maybe because she's friends with Draco,Blaise etc) but she's actually quite nice but still a proud slytherin and fits all their attributes? If you even write for George that is?:) 

For @hinagiku0 x

Summary: This one got away from me. Reader and George enter a secret relationship that threatens the relationships of everybody close to them.  Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst, Smut, slight praisekink!George. Everyone is of age. If the smut isn’t your thing, just stop reading at the bold text :)

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin Fem!Reader Word Count: 9k+ Part Two

This is my first reader insert, and I hope you enjoy it. Requests are open!<3

“That pathetic Weasley is staring at you again, (Y/N),” Draco whispered from his seat next to you. You whipped your head round in the direction that Draco was looking and saw the usual gaggle of Gryffindor girls fawning around the infamous Weasley twins as they tried to eat their breakfast. Although Fred was clearly enjoying the attention, balancing his spoon on his nose and earning laughs from his adoring crowd; George sat quietly by his brother’s side. His attention fixed quite intently towards the Slytherin table to where you sat sandwiched between Draco and Blaise, the latter’s interest quite firmly placed in conversation with Pansy Parkinson- but Draco noticed, and so did you. You offered George a small smile and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear as, with pink cheeks, George returned your smile. Draco looked incredulously between the two of you.   “Are you mad, (Y/N)? What do you think you’re doing?” He pinched your arm and you rubbed it with a groan.   “What?” You snapped, “I was just being friendly, a quality you clearly don’t possess.” Draco rolled his eyes and returned to his breakfast in silence, you continued to rub your arm as you shifted your gaze to once more meet with George’s. He was still smiling as Fred tapped him on the shoulder to leave, he stood and gave you a small wave. You were accustomed to feeling butterflies in your stomach whenever you looked at George Weasley and they fluttered with gay abandon as you watched him shoulder to shoulder with Fred leave the Great Hall with long strides.

  Nobody knew the way you felt about him and in truth, you had tried to tell yourself otherwise also. You knew if you were to tell any of your friends, your pureblood Slytherin friends that is, you would be met with nothing but disdain and you feared being lonely. The thought of being excluded from your friendship group was enough to keep your secret longing for George just that, a secret. Whilst you were a proud Slytherin and proud of your heritage and family name; the way your friends; especially Draco spoke about your classmates made you feel uncomfortable. You didn’t see anything wrong with being friends with half-bloods and muggleborns, hell, you wouldn’t be averse to being friends with a muggle themself if they were a nice person. But that too, you kept to yourself. You hoped that this prejudiced front Draco and the like portrayed was something he would grow out of, you knew that alone, he really was quite lovely. Having spent summer after summer visiting the Malfoy estate with your parents as a child, you came to realise that Draco’s parents buried him under a lot of pressure. The Malfoy name was weighted enough, and you knew Draco weathered his days carrying around his privilege like a heavy burden, terrified of putting one foot wrong. It was easier for him to act the part of willing crusader for the purification of wizard blood, than to actually think about the alternative. Your parents had instilled in you as you entered your third year that it was important for you to look out for Draco, keep him on the straight and narrow so to speak. That being said, you took silent solace in the time away from him. You were two years older than Draco and cherished your classes away from your childhood friend. But as the years had gone, you now in your seventh-year, and Draco in his fifth, you still felt compelled to stand by your promise to your parents. But being away from him meant you could interact with whomever you wished to, and for the most part that was George Weasley.

  You wondered whether he could hear your heart thundering in your chest as you took your usual seat next to him in Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall in her genius had chosen to separate Fred and George during their OWLs, so the seat next to George at the back of the classroom was always free, and you always took it. You reached into your bag for your parchment and a quill for George as he produced an ink pot and placed it in between the two of you. Another of your unspoken rituals, George never had a quill and in return for your consistent generosity, he shared his ink. He smiled in thanks as he took it from you, his fingers barely grazing yours in the exchange, yet it was enough to make your skin burn under his slight touch. You swallowed and shrugged your robes from around your shoulders, suddenly feeling very warm.

  Throughout the lesson, you exchanged few words with George. He knew you were struggling with retaining everything McGonagall was whizzing through, and you were grateful that he tried not to distract you. You were so worried about passing your NEWTs and you felt supremely out of your depth. With an exasperated sigh, you threw your wand onto the desk and thrust your head into your hands. You could feel George’s eyes on you and sure enough as you peeked through your fingers, he was frowning sympathetically as he poured a glass of water from the pitcher he had transfigured from a large leather bound book. A similar book sat on the desk in front of you, un-transfigured and mocking you.

  “Are you okay (Y/N)?” George asked softly. He offered you the glass of water and sat back in his chair.   “I’m never going to be able to do this.” You moaned and took the glass from George’s hand and took a tentative sip. “Tastes like Shakespeare.”   “Well that’s no good, it was bloody Marlowe!” He joked and picked up your wand and passed it to you. Begrudgingly you took it, but George didn’t remove his hand. Instead he placed it on top of yours and slowly guided your hand in the correct moment. You couldn’t keep your eyes from his face as he faltered in his slightly as his breath hitched in his throat.   “Well, something like that anyway.” George whispered, there was barely any space between you, and you were painfully aware of how close his body was to yours. You could feel the heat his embrace would offer if you were to lean back only slightly. Your chest heaved quickly as George’s gaze left your eyes and flickered down to your lips. You licked them subconsciously and George’s frown appeared again as he swiftly brought a hand to the back of his head with an exclamation of pain. You tore your gaze away from George as you both looked to the front of the classroom as Fred sat with a bag of boiled sweets, his arm raised above his head ready to launch another in your direction.   “Mr. Weasley!” A stern Scottish voice from somewhere near the front of the classroom brought every head in the room to attention. Professor McGonagall emerged from behind her desk and with a swish of her wand summoned the bag of sweets from Fred’s hand and clasped it in her own. “If you have transfigured your book into a pitcher, you can change it back again.” Fred groaned as he turned his back to you and George but not before shooting a wink in his brothers’ direction. George muttered under his breath as he relieved his grip on your wand and shuffled away from you. You could feel your cheeks warm as you took another sip of George’s water. After a few minutes of silence and you trying and failing to transfigure your book, George cleared his throat.   “(Y/N),” He began, “Would you like to meet me in the library before dinner and I can help you with transfiguration?”   “You want to help me?” You asked, he looked at you expectantly and nodded.   “More like I just want to put you out of your misery.” You giggled and gave him a wide smile.   “That would be wonderful, thank you George.”   “Shall we say five?”   “Sounds perfect.”   “Okay, brill.”   “Yeah, cool.”

    You paced back and forth in the Slytherin common room at quarter to five. Pansy eyed you suspiciously over a copy of The Daily Prophet and as you clocked her gaze as you paced towards the fireplace, she snapped it shut and threw it to the side.   “What’s the matter with you?” She muttered as she examined her fingernails.   “Nothing,” You replied checking your watch for the umpteenth time. “Just need to be somewhere soon.”   “Well piss off then, you’re doing my head in.” You threw Pansy a sarcastic grimace and picked up your discarded bag and made your way from the dungeons up the stairs towards the library.

  You were out of breath when you reached the large wooden doors and checked your watch, five minutes to spare. You looked at your reflection in the panes of glass and straightened your green and silver tie. You knew you were pretty, but at that moment you couldn’t help but pick out features of your complexion that suddenly filled you with loathing. You hoped George wouldn’t notice the spot forming on your chin, or the tuna you had for lunch, or the fact you had forgotten to run a brush through your hair before you left. You were too busy pacing. You pushed the heavy door open and began to search between the long lines of shelves to find a suitable place to meet with George. You began to move down a row of book lined shelves when you spotted two redheaded boys conversing in hushed tones. You inched closer towards them, careful to not let yourself be seen.

  “I’m just saying Georgie, of all the girls in school you had to pick her.” Fred whispered, George scowled and shook his head.   “You don’t understand, she’s different-”   “She’s a Slytherin, mate. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I swear she’s best pals with Malfoy!”   “Grow up, Fred. You don’t know anything about her!”   “And you do?” Fred countered coolly, he frowned at his brother and stood. “All I’m doing is asking you to consider all your options before you make any big decisions. Imagine what mum would say.” With that, Fred clasped George on the shoulder and went to leave, he caught your eye as you peered around the corner of the bookshelf and your heart froze as you knew you’d been caught.   “Alright (Y/L/N)?” Fred said cheerfully as he sauntered passed you.   “Fred.” You nodded in acknowledgment, your cheeks burning with shame. George pursed his lips as you approached him. He drew his fingers though his hair with a sigh as you perched on the edge of a nearby table. A heavy silence fell between the two of you as you waited to see if George would break it. You bit down on your lip. You shouldn’t have heard what you did, and you felt an immense guilt wash through you, but deep in the pit of your stomach was a little fire fuelled by hope. Does this mean George feels the same way you do?

  “George-”   “Did you hear much of that-” You and George said at the same time, you gave him a weak smile and he chuckled softly.   “(Y/N),” George began, he moved swiftly to sit alongside you on the table. His brown eyes searched your face intently. “I’m sorry if you heard- I mean, what Fred said…it’s just…” He fiddled with the frayed edge of his jumper; you had never seen George like this before. He was flustered and bashful and it made your heart swell. “I don’t really know how to say what it is I want to say.” He said finally. George stood and walked towards the big window that overlooked the courtyard. He placed an arm on the windowpane and leaned into it, his head flopped forward. You wondered whether you should say something, it didn’t seem like George was finished and in truth, you weren’t sure whether you would be able to articulate anything.

  “If I tell you something, will you promise you wont laugh at me?” George said, his shoulders slumped forward.   “I thought you loved to make people laugh?” You said casually, his head twisted in your direction a sly smirk nestled on his lips. He sighed once more and turned to face you.   “Yes obviously,” George said sarcastically, “But just for this one time, I need you to listen and not laugh. Okay?”   “Okay.” You agreed. George took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.   “I like you. A lot.”

  You felt like you had had the wind knocked out of you. George looked at you sheepishly, his hands once again finding the hem of his jumper. You blinked slowly, surely you were dreaming. You would wake up at any minute, the familiar sight of the green canopy around your bed would greet you and you would desperately try to return to your dream. And yet, you didn’t. No abrupt awakening, no fade to black, just George, lovely George waiting for you to say something.   “(Y/N?)”   “Yes. Lovely. Thank you.” You managed, you instantly cringed as the words left your mouth. Why did you say that? You had waited for as long as you could remember to get to this point with George, and instead of telling him you were completely in love with him, you thanked him. George’s hesitant smile began to fall, and your heart ached. “What I mean- George, is I-”   “No, it’s okay. Cheers for letting me say that.” George replied, he rolled the sleeves of his jumper up over his arms and stepped past you widely, his back to you in two short steps. Panicking, you grasped onto his wrist and stopped him short.   “Wait! Please wait!” You pleaded; George looked from your face down to your grip of his wrist. You let go immediately but moved rapidly to meet him. “I hadn’t finished.”   George shifted his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, he crossed his arms over his chest in anticipation.    “You really like me?” You asked softly, you hoped your face did not betray the sheer pandemonium happening inside your mind. George scoffed.    “Don’t take the piss out of me, (Y/N).”   “I’m not!” You protested. “I’m just a bit shocked George, that’s all-”   “I don’t think I could have made it any more obvious, and, not forgetting the fact I just said the words out loud. To your face.” He snapped.   “George, can I get a bloody word out please? Merlin, you can be so frustrating when you want to be.” You sighed; George raised his eyebrows. “It’s quite lucky that you like me really, because it turns out that I…like you…too.” You bit down on your lip, slightly anxious as to what George would say. The taller boy just stared at you, unblinking.   “Sorry, what?”   “I…like you, George? And I’m happy that you like me?”   “Right…well, okay then.”

  A laugh of pure elation fell from your lips as George’s bewildered look turned into one of joy. He embraced you in an instant, his hands found your hips as he pulled you close into him. The contact surprised you, it took you a moment to react, but soon enough you brought your arms up around his broad shoulders, reaching up on your tip toes. You couldn’t supress the grin that was so wide it made your cheeks tingle as George surrounded every part of you. His arms tight around your back and his chin brought down to rest against your head. You didn’t want to pull away, but the sound of a throat being cleared somewhere behind you caused the pair of you to spring apart. Madame Pince removed a book from a far-away shelf and raised a knowing eyebrow in your direction. You covered your mouth with your hand to conceal an involuntary giggle. George flashed you a brilliant smile and exhaled jubilantly.   “So, I suppose it’s time for the cheesy bit.” George smiled, his hand found yours with ease and he entwined his fingers with yours. “(Y/N), would you like to be my girlfriend?”

  “I would genuinely like nothing more, it’s just…” You averted your gaze, your cheeks growing warm once again. You contemplated your options, the boy you were absolutely mad for had just asked you to be his girlfriend and you were happy, of course you were. But you couldn’t shake the lump that appeared in your chest when you thought about having to tell your friends that you were with a Weasley. Not only that, the conversation you had overheard between Fred and George signalled that perhaps his friends held the same apprehensions.   “What?” George asked earnestly, he rubbed your knuckles with his thumb. You smiled at his touch and swept your eyes over his sweet features.   “I don’t think people would be very accepting of our relationship, George.” You said quietly, unable to disguise the trepidation in your voice. George smiled sadly and gestured for you to return to your perch on the table.   “I hate to say this, but I have to agree with you.” He said. “Not that I have anything against Slyth-”   “No, I understand. Believe me, I do.” You recalled all the tedious conversations with your Slytherin peers about the blood traitors that were the Weasleys. You shook your head to free yourself from the memory and sighed. “What do we do?”   “Well, I do have an idea…” George whispered, he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively and you laughed heartily at him.

     George held your hand as you walked briskly down the seventh-floor corridor, you threw a look behind you to see if you were still being pursued. Professor Umbridge stalked your trail, followed by members of the Inquisitorial Squad namely Crabbe and Goyle. Draco had begged you to join his fifth year friends in becoming member of Umbridge’s little crusade, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to agree. You had bullshitted an excuse about needing whatever spare time you had to study for your NEWTs and Draco, although suspicious, had accepted it. George tugged on your hand as he quickened his pace, your robes flapped behind you and you couldn’t supress your grin as you once more looked behind your shoulder. Professor Umbridge raised her hand and opened her mouth to speak just as George whipped you round a corner and shoved you into an empty classroom. You laughed headily as he pointed his wand at the door and locked it with a muttered spell. You smoothed your hands over your skirt and waited for George to approach you.

  “We really must stop meeting like this, Mr. Weasley.” You smiled, George wrapped his arms around you tightly and lowered his lips to meet yours. It had been three months since he had asked you to be his, and yet you still weren’t accustomed to his touch. It still sent electric pulses coursing throughout your body with every deft movement of his fingertips, and you shuddered as he moved his hand over your rump and gave it a hearty squeeze. George, who was always the more dominant one out of the pair of you nearly always arranged your meetings. While it had been three months since you commenced your relationship, it had been three months of scurrying around in secret and lying to your friends, and in George’s case, lying to his family. George deepened the kiss, his tongue pressed against your lips requesting entry, which of course you granted. Your hands found their way to George’s soft hair and you pulled on it slightly, eliciting a groan from him. You smirked into the kiss as George walked you backwards and hoisted you up onto a vacant desk, you wrapped your legs around him instinctively and he pushed his hips into you. He pulled away from the kiss breathlessly and grasped either side of your face in his hands. He studied you intently as he rubbed his thumbs over your cheeks.   “I love you, (Y/N). You know that, don’t you?” You pulled him into you again and ravished his neck with feverish kisses. That was the first time those words had fallen from his lips, you felt like you could melt at the sound of this boy telling you he loved you over and over again. You nipped at the skin there, feeling emboldened by his declaration of love. You didn’t know whether it was the excitement of getting caught or whether you were running on sheer elation, but you couldn’t get your fill of George.   “Georgie,” You whispered into his shoulder as his hands gripped onto your thighs tightly as he pushed his groin against your core. “You make me so happy.”   “I want to make you feel more than happy.” George winked as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your face towards his and crushed his lips against yours.

“George! What the fuck?!”

  A voice from behind you startled the pair of you as you immediately pulled away from George, instantly missing the contact. Fred stood agape in the open doorway flanked by Ginny and Ron each looking equally shocked. You looked at George who had flushed scarlet and had his gaze trained intently on the floor. Ginny let out a stunned gasp and turned on her heel and exited swiftly out of the room. Ron shook his head sadly at his older brother and followed Ginny, calling after her as he went. Fred remained still, his hands balled into fists and his knuckles white with fury.   “I thought we agreed, George.” Fred spat. He made a step towards his brother and squared up to him, their faces inches apart.   “No. We didn’t.”   “You lied to me. You said nothing was going on.”   “Fuck off then if you don’t like it. I don’t care anymore, Fred.” You watched in horror as George pushed Fred away by his chest, but quick as a flash, Fred caught George’s hands in his own and pushed him back harder.   “You’re a mug.” Fred muttered as he rolled his sleeves up and looked you up and down before chuckling darkly to himself and leaving, slamming the door behind him. A heavy silence descended onto the room as you shuffled down from the desk and chewed on your lip. You couldn’t help but feel guilty as you watched George sigh and run his hands over his face. You bent down to retrieve your bag and haphazardly threw it over your shoulder, you felt your stomach flip on itself as George looked at you tearfully. There was nothing you could do. George said that he didn’t care, you knew it wasn’t true. You were a Slytherin, a pureblood from a long line of wizards with dubious intentions and had long been affiliated with controversial families. There was nothing you could do in this situation to make it any better for you, or for George. You took George’s shaking hand in yours and gave it a tight squeeze before you let it fall back to his side. You quietly made your way out of the room and descended the many stairs towards your common room, the quiet of your dormitory offered you a much-needed solace. George made no attempt to speak or to come after you, and you were glad that he didn’t. He needed to speak to his family, he needed to speak to Fred.

  You tried not to worry about him, but that was easier said than done. You hadn’t told him you loved him when he had said it to you, but it seemed inappropriate to say it now. You hoped he already knew.

  Draco was waiting for you when you entered the common room. He stood with his arms folded over his chest with an impatient tapping of his foot, he reminded you of his mother. Narcissa was always scolding you as children for dilly-dallying, and with Draco’s long features, he looked just like her. “Where have you been?” He snapped. You tried to move passed him, you averted your eyes to the floor. Draco caught your arm and pulled you backwards. “Where have you been?” He demanded,  “And don’t lie.”   “Why? Are you spying on me now?” You countered, you shrugged out of his grasp and narrowed your eyes. He looked at you dumbfounded.   “Spying on you! I’m looking out for you, (Y/N). Or had you forgotten that we’re supposed to be friends?” Draco thundered, he inched closer to you, his grey eyes alight with anger.   “Friends don’t ambush friends when they’ve had a really shitty day.” You spat, you tried once more to move round Draco, but he blocked your path.   “Goyle saw you with the weasel, holding his hand. Do you not have any shame?” Draco paused as he tried to gauge your reaction. He hesitantly placed his hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N),” He said softly, “Tell me you’re not seeing him.”   “Move aside, Draco.”   “(Y/N) please, this is for your own good. I’m trying to-”   “Move aside.”   “I shall not. I demand you tell me everything that’s happened between you and that horrid muggle-loving traitor-” You snatched your wand from your robes and held it up to Draco’s throat, his eyes widened in fear as he instinctively took a step back.   “Not a single person in my family has ever taken orders from a Malfoy, and I don’t expect to start doing so now.” You said venomously. “I asked you politely to move aside, yet you feel compelled to irk me further on a day when you really don’t want to piss me off.” You stood unwavering, wand raised and watched unblinking as a bead of sweat trickled down Draco’s forehead. “Now, fuck off.”

  Draco nearly fell over his feet as he scurried into the shadows of the dark room. You continued your journey into your dormitory and pulled your jumper over your head as you flopped backwards onto your bed. Thankfully, the room was empty. You rolled onto your side and pulled your knees up to your chest. You felt peculiar, like you needed to cry and yet no tears came. Instead, you stared blankly off into the middle-distance, replaying the moment you were found by George’s siblings in your mind. The looks of abject horror etched on their faces. You wanted to find them, to try and persuade them that you weren’t the person that they thought you were. That with each passing day spent with George made you feel lighter and unburdened, that you thought that you maybe had a chance at real happiness. Not tainted with the pressure set upon you by your parents to find a nice Slytherin boy, maybe someone who graduated a few years ago and now has an up and coming job in the Ministry. His family name would be one rolled around with mentions of the Dark Lord, of course, and you didn’t want that. You were a proud Slytherin yes, you were cunning and ambitious and every other cliché;  but your ambition wasn’t to marry a boring man who would more than likely be sent to Azkaban; your ambition was a tall redheaded boy from Devon who made you laugh and filled your days with joy. You wanted lots of little George’s running around in a house with an abundance of windows that the sun could shine through. You wanted a large, comfy sofa that you could curl up after a hard day and know that the arms surrounding you belonged to him. You wanted a bed that could be the setting for endless nights of pleasure and a dining table scratched and wonky, that the family you made could sit and talk freely, not even sparing a thought as to who might be listening.

  You didn’t know you had fallen asleep until you were awoken by the sound of your dormitory door opening, and the two girls you shared with piling in after dinner. Almost comically, your stomach grumbled as you sat and rubbed your eyes wearily. You exchanged polite pleasantries with your dormmates as they started to change from their uniforms. You threw your cloak over your shoulders and pulled the hood up over your head. You ignored anybody that tried to accost you as you left the common room and crept to the kitchens. You had only done this a handful of times, you didn’t know the names of the House Elves that worked tirelessly in the kitchens, but you were always polite, and they seemed to appreciate that. You had tried to ask where the bread was kept so you could make yourself a sandwich, but with a few protestations from you, the little creatures had prepared a lovely supper for you. You wrapped your sandwiches and slice of Victoria sponge securely in a piece of delicate cloth, cradling the pear they had forced you to take in the crook of your arm. You thanked them warmly and hurried through the now darkening corridors. You knew if you were to be caught by Filch or Umbridge, it could spell a horrendous amount of trouble for you. Thankfully, you arrived back to your dormitory unscathed and now ravenous. You got into bed and closed the curtains that surrounded the frame and settled in.

  It was difficult for you to relax. You continued through the motions almost on autopilot, you undressed for bed and shuffled to the loo to brush your teeth before climbing heavily into bed. You scrunched your eyes closed and willed sleep to come, the steady breathing of your dormmates tormented you as you tossed and turned. Your concern for George was like a dripping tap, it vibrated in your head with every breath you took. You had waited so long to reach the steady happiness you had with him, and in one afternoon it had potentially been taken away. You tried not to be selfish, you tried not to think about your loss; the way Fred had looked at you both was an image you knew you wouldn’t forget in a hurry. But, you wished for nothing more than to be with George. You wanted to feel his sturdy embrace, his gentle kisses against your head and to hear his heart beating rhythmically in his chest. You simply wished for things to be different.

    Three days. Three days it took to receive word from George. The weekend trundled by slowly, with Professor Umbridge’s ever increasing list of banned activities; there wasn’t much left to do. You spent much of your time in your dorm reading, you emerged for mealtimes but kept to yourself, ensuring you were seated far away from Draco. Your seventh-year friends pleased that you had managed to shake off the younger boy. Embarrassed to speak to Draco after you had pulled out your wand and embarrassed that he knew about you and George, you were grateful for the space. You always kept your eyes on your plate or on whomever was speaking to you in the Great Hall, not daring to look over to the Gryffindor table, no matter how much you wished to. You could feel George watching you, it was almost like you had a sixth sense, you were constantly aware of his presence in any room you shared. But you didn’t look. Monday night, after a disastrous day and a near silent Transfiguration lesson, George slipped you a note as you went to leave.

(Y/N),

Please meet me after Quidditch practise this evening. I think it would be good to have a chat.

George

  So, that was it. Three days of radio silence for twenty words. You tried not to be annoyed, and quite successfully really, as your annoyance gave way to anxiety as you imagined the inevitable conversation that you would have with George. You couldn’t blame him for choosing his familial relationships over the one he shared with you, but you had began to think that if the time ever came for you to ever make that decision; you would perhaps choose the opposite. You loved him. But you wouldn’t be a point of contention. You prepared your gracious acceptance for his words, confident that he was going to end the relationship. Making it anymore difficult than it needed to be was the last thing you wanted to do, you craved a little normality. The only trouble was that George had become your new normal.

  You cursed to yourself as you wrapped your scarf around your neck as you made your way to the quidditch pitch. The Gryffindor practise was just about to finish, and silently you waited on the other side of the players entrance, partially concealed by a tall beam of timber. You chewed absentmindedly on the inside of your cheek, it was cold, and you felt very conflicted. One by one the players descended from dizzying heights and dismounted their brooms. Angelina Johnson gestured for her team to leave the pitch and you tried to hide further behind the beam until you could get George on his own. The redheaded twins were the last to pass you by, they spoke brightly to one another. You strained to hear what they were saying.

  “…promise you.” George said to his brother. “…not going to regret this.” The boys moved swiftly through the covered walkway and you hurried after them, your steps muffled by the grass underfoot.   “…must be amazing, eh Georgie?” Fred joked and wiggled his eyebrows, George threw his head back in laughter and out of the corner of his eye, caught sight of you.   “(Y/N)!” He exclaimed; George flung his broom over to Fred as he rushed to meet you. He seemed to struggle with what to do with his hands, they had reached out to you on impulse, but you stood unwavering. George’s arms dropped back to his sides. He cleared his throat, his brown eyes seared into yours. “Can you come with us, (Y/N)?” George gestured to Fred and he pointed through the players entrance into the direction of the changing rooms.   “Why?” You scrunched your face in confusion, “I’m not that kind of girl, George.” George’s face turned a very flattering shade of beetroot and Fred snickered, he reached for your arm and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.   “Merlin, no. Nothing like that.” George snapped; you fell into step with the twins as Fred pushed open the door to the male changing room. Inside, like a frightening family portrait sat Ron and Ginny, both stone-faced and waiting. You froze as you took in the scene, Fred moved to sit next to Ginny and Ron shuffled in his seat. George placed a hand on the small of your back and ushered you into the room, closing the door behind you.

  You stood awkwardly, every pair of eyes burned into each inch of your skin and you felt like you were on fire.   “Right.” George began, he offered you a quick smile as he pulled up two stools for the pair of you to sit on, opposite where the other three sat. “My brothers and sister have agreed to have a chat with you- with us, I mean, so they can see what you’re- I mean, we’re like. Together.” He gave you a pained expression, and you could see his pulse throb in his neck. He was nervous. Why was he nervous?   “Why don’t they just ask me?” You stated, your resolve hardening as you knew they were here to interrogate you, not to get to know their brother’s girlfriend.   “I’ve never known Slytherins to be that forthcoming.” Ginny said raising an eyebrow.   “Maybe you’re not asking the right questions.” You countered and the younger girl scoffed, she crossed her arms over her chest and eyed you suspiciously.   “I don’t think we need to ask any questions at all,” Ron said quietly, “Slytherin, friends with Malfoy in this day and age, all these rumours of dark wizards in well-known families coming out of hiding…says it all really. What else could we possibly need to know?”   “You know nothing about me and what? You assume I’m a Death Eater because of my house and my family name?” You spat, you stood to leave but George grasped hold of the sleeve of your robe and pulled you back to your seat.   “I’m asking you to please just get to know (Y/N). I’m not asking you to be best mates with her, none of us like Fleur, but we all just get on with our lives.” George tried to level, Ginny just rolled her eyes and Ron tapped his foot impatiently. “(Y/N), why don’t you tell them one thing about yourself, that they might be surprised to hear.” He put an arm around your shoulders and brought his lips to your ear and whispered; “Please darling, I really want this to work. It’s taken me ages to get them to agree to do this.” He paused. “I don’t want to hide anymore.” The earnest look in his eyes made your heart flutter and you sighed deeply. You nodded.   “Um. I’m crap at Transfiguration.” You murmured half-heartedly and Fred chuckled, smacking his knee with his hand.   “That’s no secret, (Y/N). Tell us something we don’t know.” He said boisterously. You racked your brain for anything you could say that might endear you to them. They didn’t have to like you, just tolerate you.   “My parents want me to marry as soon as I leave school. They’ve already started looking for potential suitors for me.” You said quietly, you felt George stiffen beside you and his arm tightened around your shoulders.   “Is that true?” He said softly, “Why didn’t you tell me?”   “I don’t like thinking about it.” You shrugged. Ginny leaned forward in her seat; her hand covered her mouth concealing any emotion she might be feeling.   “Why are you friends with Malfoy?” Ron probed; George hastened to shut his brother up when you placed an arm on his.   “No, it’s fine. I can answer, it’s fine.” Ron looked smugly at George before he returned his attention back to you. “My parents asked me to look out for him when he started school. I know he’s a bit of a knobhead, but when he’s by himself he’s actually quite sweet.”   “Bollocks!” Ron exclaimed loudly. “He called Hermione a m-”   “I know.” You interrupted, there was no need to be reminded of the awful words Draco had used toward Hermione Granger. You had heard all about it after the first time it had happened, and you didn’t speak to him for a week afterward. You hoped it might help him re-evaluate some of his choices, but alas, it did not. “I was really annoyed with him about it, and please understand, I would never use a slur like that.”

  Ron smiled at that. You had often wondered whether Draco perhaps held a deeper interest in Hermione Granger, of course he would vehemently deny it whenever the idea was brought up. Ron Weasley on the other hand, made his feelings abundantly clear. If not to himself, but to everybody else.   “Why should we believe you?” Ginny pressed, “Why should we think that you’d be a good match for George?”   “You don’t have to believe anything, Ginny.” You said softly, your gaze drifted to where George sat at your side. You felt tears prickle your eyes as you thought about how much he meant to you; how much you were willing to sacrifice for him. “I don’t have any ulterior motives for wanting to be with George. I’m actually endangering the standing I have within my family by being with anyone other than a pureblood Slytherin,” Fred winced at your words. “But it doesn’t matter to me. I hope you come to realise that I’m much more than my house. I’ve long lived by the mandate of if you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you; it’s really as simple as that.” The three siblings seemed to take in your words in silence, George gave your shoulder a squeeze and gave your cheek a chaste kiss. You frowned as you looked between the Weasleys, your heart pounded in your chest. Fred crossed his arms and sat back in his seat.   “Do you love him, (Y/N)?” He asked, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room as Ron and Ginny inched forward in anticipation of your reply.   “With all my heart.” You answered and placed your hand on George’s thigh. “I love you, George.” You said with the most earnest look you could muster, George beamed at you.

  “Well isn’t this something…” You turned your head in the direction of the voice which came from behind you, Draco stood in the doorway of the changing rooms flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. The badges for the Inquisitorial Squad glistened at their breasts, the three Slytherins raised their wands slowly and pointed them in your direction. You stood immediately and faced the intruders with a hateful glare, removing your own wand from inside your robes and aiming in their direction.   “Following me again, Goyle? Crabbe?” You snapped at the two idiots, they exchanged uneasy glances and looked to Draco for reassurance. Draco only smirked at you; he extended his hand to you.   “(Y/N) come, you don’t need to be here when Professor Umbridge arrives.” Draco said slyly, you felt George tense next to you.   “No thank you, Draco. I’m quite happy here.” You levelled; you kept your wand trained intently onto Draco. The blonde boy scoffed and stretched his fingers out as though to reach for you.   “I’ll not ask you again, (Y/N), come here.” His smile appeared strained as once again he offered his hand. You looked between your housemates and George and his family and knew what you needed to do.   “I have no idea who you think you’re talking to, Malfoy. It certainly appears like you’re trying to command the last daughter of the (Y/L/N)’s, and I know you’re not that brave. Your pathetic little family means nothing to me, no matter how much money your spineless father throws around. So no, I will not go anywhere with you and your mindless goons.” You were breathless. You heard Ron behind you mutter a bloody hell and Draco’s face contorted into one of rage.   “Crabbe, Goyle.” Draco ordered, with a nod the two idiots lurched towards you.   “Impedimenta!” You cried with a flourish of your wand, like a shot Crabbe and Goyle were knocked off their feet with groans of pain as they hit the stone floor. George was by your side in an instant, wand raised toward Draco.   “Expelliarmus.” George disarmed Draco with ease and caught Draco’s wand in his free hand as it flew through the air. Goyle stood unsteadily on his feet and caught Crabbe by his robes and hoisted the smaller boy to his feet. They scurried out of the room and dragged Draco with them, the blonde-haired boy’s startling grey eyes didn’t leave yours.

  When the room was still and the sound of heavy footsteps disappeared, you turned to face Fred, Ron and Ginny. George’s arm snaked around your hip as you stood and bit your lip. Ginny was the first to step forward, she looked at you sadly and put her arms around your shoulders and pulled you in for a tight hug. You were surprised by the contact and it took a moment before you wrapped your arms around her back and embraced the hug. Ginny pulled back after a moment and turned to face Ron, who smiled at you and gave your shoulder an awkward squeeze.   “Bloody hell, (Y/N). I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Malfoy like that.” Ron said and looked between you and George.   “That can’t have been easy.” Ginny added, “We should leave though, if Umbridge is coming that is.” It was unanimously agreed to return into the main body of the castle, Ginny and Ron left first, you remained where you were. George still held fast to your waist and Fred stared at the floor.   “So? Freddie?” George whispered. “Come on mate, don’t tease me like this.”   “You were right.” Fred said, he brought his gaze slowly from the floor until it settled on your face. “She is different. And I’m happy for you.” George beamed brightly at his brother as he gave his consent. You couldn’t help but exhale and grin at the twins, George pulled Fred closer to the pair of you and pulled you both in for a crushing hug. You laughed as you were thrown about by George’s jubilant swaying, George kissed the top of your head and then kissed the top of Fred’s.   “Oh look, my two-favourite people in the whole world.” George laughed, Fred pulled away and offered his hand to you. You shook it with a smile.   “Suppose I best send an owl to mum, get her to knit another Christmas jumper.” Fred winked at you before he shook his head and exited the changing room. You looked up at George’s face with a confused expression and he simply shook his head. He turned you to face him and clasped your face in his hands.   “You love me then?” He said, his gaze dancing from your lips up to your eyes and back down again.    “I always have,” You answered, closing the distance between you and brought your lips to meet George’s. He accepted your kiss hungrily, not wasting any time in exploring your mouth with his tongue.   “I love you so much, (Y/N). The air I breathe wouldn’t matter to me if you weren’t by my side.” His hands drifted down your back and travelled under your skirt, taking firm hold of your bum. He squeezed it and gave it a playful slap; you felt a stirring deep in your stomach as George’s hands roamed over your body. Your hands tangled in his hair as you kissed along George’s jawline and down his neck. Feeling brave, you moved your hands under George’s quidditch robes and pushed them from his shoulders. He shrugged his arms free and let his robes fall to the floor with a thud, your robe was next, it joined George’s on the floor as he tugged at your jumper. You pulled it over your head quickly and connected your mouth with George’s for another searing kiss.   “I could be homeless,” You said kissing George’s neck, “Penniless,” Another kiss, “Hungry,” A bite, “And cold.” You trailed your tongue along his bottom lip. “But none of that would matter as long as you were mine.” He growled as he kissed you passionately, he pushed his hips into yours and you groaned.

  George broke the kiss suddenly; you were panting and the heat in your knickers was becoming to powerful to ignore.   “Fancy a shower?” He asked devilishly.

    The water ran hot over your shoulders as you kissed George desperately. He palmed at your breasts as you ran your hands down his shoulder blades, your fingernails scraped their way down his back, and he shuddered under your touch. His mouth kissed down your chest as he took your nipple in his mouth, he rolled his tongue over your stiffened peak and grazed it with his teeth. You moaned at the sensation and rubbed your thighs together, desperate for relief. His hand wandered down from your breast and fluttered over your core, your head rolled back as you whispered his name.   “God, I want to touch you so badly.” George growled, you smirked down at him. His hair now sopping from the water and fell into his eyes, you deftly moved the heavy red locks out of his face.   “Then touch me.” That was all George needed. He dropped to his knees in front of you, kissing down your chest and your stomach as he pushed you backwards until your back hit the cold tiled shower wall. George had charmed the door of the changing rooms and the communal showers now acted as your own sanctuary, you watched as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and buried his face into you.

  He licked your clit gently, and you hissed at the much-needed contact. His hands found their way around your thighs and held you steadily in place. He suckled on your raised nub and waves of pleasure coursed through you. You bucked your hips against George’s mouth, and he gave a throaty laugh which vibrated through you deliciously. He flattened his tongue against you and shook his head, the friction on your sex was almost more than you could bear, but George continued relentlessly. He pulled you even closer into him, his tongue following the shape of your folds until ultimately, it was inside you. He fucked you with his tongue as his nose brushed against your clit, he quickened his pace to match the gyrating of your hips and hummed into your centre as he worshipped you. You guided his head with your hands, sticking it in place as you felt your orgasm build.   “Georgie,” You breathed, “You’re going to make me cum.” He didn’t respond, he just continued in his devotion of your cunt. Pulse after pulse of pleasure electrified your body as you came hard and loud. George lapped at you like he couldn’t get his fill, allowing you to rub yourself on his face as you rode out your high. When he stood, you were unsteady on your feet and George grasped hold of your waist and grounded you. You lazily swept your gaze over his lean form; he was surprisingly muscly, and his toned abs glistened under the running water. George was painfully hard, you could see his cock twitching, like it begged to be played with. He kissed you then, full of the same hunger as before and you returned his desire by taking hold of his member in your hand and giving it a hard squeeze. George spluttered and thrust his hips forward into your hand. You looked up at him innocently as you smirked at him, his eyes half closed.   “Would you like to fuck me, Georgie?”

  He moaned into your shoulder as he lifted you up by your legs and wrapped them around his waist. George again pushed your back against the wall as he lined himself up with your centre. He looked into your eyes and gave you a gentle smile before you nodded, and he pushed himself into you. You both let out moans of pleasure at the sensation of him filling you to the hilt, George’s legs threatened to buckle as you adjusted to his length. This wasn’t the first time that you had been intimate with George, but this time felt different. He gazed into your eyes as he thrust into you, his brow furrowed as you moaned. He felt so good inside you, he filled you to the brim and then some and there was pain, but the pain was so delectable that you cherished it.   “Such a good girl,” George cooed as he thrust into you. “Such a good girl taking my cock.” With each delicious thrust from George, you could feel him as he bruised your cervix, he rutted into you shamelessly, a string of curses fell from his lips as he tried to silence himself by biting down on your shoulder.   “Oh God George, I love you.” You whined, you felt like you were on fire. “I love you; I love you; I love you.” You eyes fluttered closed as you bounced on his cock, you felt that same stirring in your stomach start to build, George could sense it too as his thrusts became more desperate.   “The way you stood up to Malfoy really turned me on.” He grunted. “Such a good girl standing up for your man.” He suckled on your neck, no doubt marking you. “Good girls get rewarded.” His hands around your thighs would leave marks, you knew, but you didn’t care. Your orgasm built steadily, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the space and echoed around you, wet and hot. You came at the same time, he moaned loudly as his cock twitched inside you and filled you deep with his hot load. Your walls tightened around him with your orgasm, milking him to utter completion. George breathed heavily as he gently set you down. You captured his lips for a kiss, different than before, more tender.

  You dressed hurriedly and scurried through the castle careful to not be seen by Filch or anybody else. He walked you down the steps to the dungeons, stopping only when you came to the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Elated, you threw your arms around his shoulders and kissed hm deeply. George chuckled and pulled back to look at you, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.   “Goodnight darling, I hope you dream of me.” He said softly, in the near blackness of the dungeons you could barely make out his features. You pecked his lips once more and turned to enter the common room, you stopped just before you stepped over the threshold and turned back.   “George?” You whispered into the darkness, you hoped he was still there.    “Yes?” His unmistakable voice replied.    “I love you. You mean everything to me. I know there’s nothing that we can’t do if we’re together.” You whispered, you could feel a tear threaten to fall as you thought of all the people that were going to find out about your relationship and what you had to tell them, what you stood to lose.   “Exactly my darling, I’ll be there by your side. Forever, I promise.” You heard him chuckle, “Well, maybe not in your Transfiguration exam. You’re on your own with that one, I’m afraid.” You rolled your eyes and took one last look into the blackness, just about to make out his figure.   “Goodnight then, I love you.”    “Goodnight, (Y/N). I love you too.”

[jiminrings]

hi hannah! i may have a request 🥺 i've been watching too much tiktok and this two made me want some jungkook skater au 😳 like the reader saw him and went like love at first sight so she purposely buys a skate and goes everyday to the skatepark and start learning just to impress that hot tattooed skater that kinda looks like a bad boy but he's actually a softie. ♡

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSm5Huop/

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZSm55usm/

late skate

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: jungkook would rather wash down his grip tape than spend another hour seeing you land on yOUR ass, a smitten y/n and love at first sight, and tae almost losing his bearings (in all aspects) <3 // gif is from pinterest :D

note: thank you so much for the request babie!!! also i’m sorry since i’ve done this a month late hee-hee bUT but it’s here now!!! fun fact: i used to skate but one time i fell on my ass so hard doing an ollie that i quit ( ˙-˙ )

there is nothing

there is absolutely nothing you hate more than walking home alone and at-

wait u need to shudder

night

times like these make you both angry and scared because fIRST of all

you’re angry because if oNLY (you’re still hoping that u win the lottery soon) you were born to wealth and ease (if you see park jimin one more time in a billboard you’re about to lose it), you wouldn’t have to worry!! or even work for that matter!!!!

you could have a car by now!!!

but you don’t have a car and you’re still saving up for that because you have to keep up with your bills and this nice and decent apartment that you’re living in right now

well if you’re being honest, you are splitting it with yoongi and that cuts back your expenses significantly but that’s besides the point

which is why you’re being extra thrifty!! save up all the money that you could so you could by yourself a car amongst other financial decisions and nOT be scared shitless when walking home

you’re working at the animal shelter most of the time and it’s very fulfilling because of cOURSE!! your job is to care for animals and give them a better chance at everything :D

the pay is more than decent but it’s not the highest sO what you do on your spare time is pick up any job you could!!

and the income that you need is more and more than decent because taking care of chimmy is not an easy feat

chimmy, your alaskan malamute!!! he’s the first puppy you’ve properly taken care of in the shelter and you’ve fallen head over heels for him

he kept bumping into the wall when he scrambles after you call for him but eH you love the clumsy giant still!!

so much so that you file your adoption form for him and run over to mr. kim’s office hurriedly :D

your boss seokjin’s pretty sweet after all but at the same time he’s intimidating!! too sweet and intimidating at the same time that when he approves your form without much question, you almost kiss his cheek

...

.... hehe

jin beat you to it and instead he gave you a side-hug with a very strict warning to take care of chimmy and provide everything that he needs

he eats 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓂𝒾𝓊𝓂 dog food and you could only assume the amount that he needs because of how he towers

the treats?? one time yoongi got overly-excited to take a picture of him and accidentally left the bag on the ground, and when he came back?? chimmy’s managed to inhale all of them

thankfully he’s only loyal to one (1) toy and it’s to this brown angry... entity..? with one tooth that yoongi’s made by himself

but he constantly has to replace the stuffing because chimmy nOTICES when it’s flat and unstuffed from his own doings

hehehe the grooming.....

you thank your lucky stars that jin gives you a discount to have chimmy groomed!! 

one time you were about to have a breakdown because a $100 grooming session simply didn’t click well with your ongoing budget and you decided to do it yourself :D

spoiler alert: chimmy kept barking at you when you held up the mirror to his face because wOOF did you just... d-did you give him bangs.... how was that possible....

and then sECOND of all is that well.,.,.,

you’re scared and that’s it

there is every possible reason for you to be scared :D

you get off from work at 5!! but now it’s quarter to 8 and you totally should’ve booked an uber but it completely slipped your mind

normally, you wouldn’t walk home alone though because chimmy comes with you to the shelter, and then he serves as a therapy dog of sorts to help ease and calm down the new rescues!!

he even has his own little ID oh my god :’)

but he doesn’t come in everyday and well you remember,.,.

no actually, yoongi REMINDS you that today is his day-off at work and explictly implied that he’d very much love to cuddle with a giant alaskan malamute as he gets his well-deserved rest

and yoongs has been the reason to why you don’t unravel every single day and you owe him for your life so yea okay you can have chimmy whenever you need this giant pillow of support <3

but no

no 

you don’t have chimmy with you and you don’t have anyone to bark and be willing to growl n intimidate any creepy dudes you could possibly encounter on this twenty-minute walk home

the extra coffee you’ve drank at 6 in lieu of dinner does not help at ALL

what if you just... run

that way you get home faster and you won’t have to be that antsy!!!

ok maybe just a light jog would do

you wanna go home so badly and take a shower and be sandwiched between your warm sheets and sleep all the way

you miss chimmy and yoongi and you just hOPE that he’d already cooked dinner and you won’t have processed food again for the third time in a week

and after dinner maybE you could treat yourself to online shopping because yoongs has also been pestering you to let yourself indulge once in a while

your thoughts are jumbled once panicked and it reminds you that yes you should definitely get a car and you know what??? you probably should-

wait fUCK

...

....

oh

wait

hold on a second

did you just manage to narrowly dodge what seems to be a skateboard in mid-air??????

“taehyung, you dumbass!!”

said taehyung is jumping down and crouching to pick up the deck at your feet and squeaks an “oop sorry ‘bout that!!” before going back and

well...

mr. “taehyung, you dumbass!!” is who you presume to be the speaker,, because well no one eLSE is in this skatepark at 9 in the evening,,,, is standing RIGHT underneath the light and is right at your line of sight

it’s as if the clouds are opening up and chimmy’s barking could be heard and everything you deem perfect is ringing right in your ears because god.... holy shit.....

he looks and probably feels like a warm-sized bed that smells of baby powder and fresh linen

he has a hoodie on with the sleeves scrunched up and you tHANK yourself that you’ve saved up enough to get lasik eye surgery because those tattoos...,.,. you r positive that they would be your demise

mr. TYD has a loose bucket hat on yet you could still see his features clearly and you aren’t lying when you say he is perhaps the most breathtaking thing you’d ever seen

even more breathtaking than seeing chimmy in the laundry room and having fished for your one good perfect bra in his mouth

oh

huh

you’re pretty sure this is what love at first sight must feel like

suddenly, you aren’t anxious at all and you’re instantly gravitating towards the ramp without much complaint

there’s a bench conveniently placed in which you could see him but he won’t see you

you find yourself sticking around and smiling when you see him goofing around in all good fun

hopefully you don’t look like a cREEP because you swear you aren’t!!!! and hopefully they don’t notice you either and find out then and there that you’re here in a skatepark withOut a skateboard,,, just sitting,,, to see him

this may not be your best idea yet lmao yes you’re gonna admit that

but it’s probably the first and last time that you’re ever gonna see him so might as well watch him for awhile!! that’s all!!!!

ok wait

this is definitely a bad idea because yoongi calls you and you forgOt to put it on silent and it’s his voice that greets you very rudely as soon as you pick up

“y/n where the FUCK are you???”

oh lmao it’s quarter to 10 already

“jeez, i’m coming home!! calm down!!”

“yeah tell that to chimmy who’s been worried sick with me and won’t stop hOWLING!!!”

you’re scrambling to gather your duffel and sneak oNE last look at him and ur practically pouting as you say goodbye to him under your breath 

:((

“... aw, you worry about me?”

you resume back to jogging on your way home and this time for rEAL

you’re gonna miss him

he’s like one of the random dudes you see in the mall that are sO breathtaking and you know you’re never gonna see them again

you didn’t even manage to catch his name :((

but whoever he is, he feels a little more different than a dude in a mall because this time, you feel like you’re gonna cRY at the thought of it

little did you know that jungkook could see you all this time and he’s sad to see you go 

:D

chimmy is the first to leap at you as soon as you come through the door

and if you didn’t anticipate the giant, then you’d probably be toppled over by now

yoongi finds it weird that there’s this lingering gentle smile on your face

well he shouldn’t be so shOcked because he sees you talking to yourself when you’re watching documentaries and cooking

(( he always checks if there’s a camera hidden somewhere in the kitchen and you were vlogging or something but nO!!! ))

it’s like you’re a third-grader again that goes fERAL at just the thought of their crush

you hope mr. tyd has already eaten breakfast and hasn’t had any injuries with his skateboarding

you’re trying to rationalize with yourself that it’s just a stOOpid and pathetic crush to harbor in less than a day and stop thinking about him

the universe must seem to hate aND love you at the same time because well would you look at tHAT

it’s 5 in the afternoon and you have chimmy beside you and you’re walking home

and that’s practically your routine ever since you’ve gotten this job

it would only differ if a situation like last night happens or when you’re too tired to walk home oR when it’s raining

but right now it’s your normal workday, and you’re walking home, and it’s sunny, aND THIS IS THE SECOND TIME YOU’VE SEEN HIM

this is also the first time that you’ve seen him in such a situation that you didn’t expect :O

the fact that you’ve mayhaps watched kimi no nawa last night with yoongi and perhaps 98 times before that, does not help at all

“you uh, y-you wanna go for a run on the grass, chim??”

there’s this mini field besides the skatepark and chimmy happily jUMPS at the mention of grass :D

aha oh well :D would you look at that :D your dog wants to go run on the grass that’s a couple feet away from the skatepark :D who are you to stop him anyways?? :D

chimmy’s more than happy to comply with your wish and vice versa because he’s having the time of his life clearly

he’s your pawman and the perfect variable so you wouldn’t seem like a third-grader with a helpless crush on anOther third-grader

it seems that hE’S more excited than you though because chimmy runs to the ramp instead of the grass!!!

and in the process he goes UP to greet a guy like he does with you whenever you come home!!! it’s harmless pouncing per se

but it’s not entirely harmless because it feels like chimmy knows EXACTLY what’s in your mind and what he’s doing

“chimmy!!!”

.....

...... of course

chimmy has to of cOurse pounce on him

jungkook wasn’t surely expecting a giant and overly-friendly alaskan malamute to pounce on him right when he was about to drop-in

it’s a pleasant surprise either because it’s-

wait

oh my god

is this yOU?????

listen.,.

jungkook was in the skatepark last night with taehyung and they took advantage of it because they were the only ones there!!

tae surely wasn’t kidding when he said that he was a novice because holy sHIT how was it possible that he sent a skateboard flying mid-air after a failed trick??

kook flinches when he follows it in his line of sight and notices that there’s someone down there who might be literally dECKED out of tae’s stupidity

he’s about to yell for this passer-by to dodge and-

time seems to move quicker because you’re already stopping yourself and flinching in place and then looking up

you’re rIGHT underneath this street lamp and jungkook sighs a breath of relief when he realized that you weren’t hit

but at the same time he’s gasping again because wow

t-that’s uhm-

okay

wHEW he has never felt this pressure in his chest ever since he joined a quizbee in 8th grade

would it be-

ok nevermind

WOULD IT BE TOO FORWARD FOR HIM TO SAY THAT HE HAS A CRUSH ON YOU ALREADY

you’re really beautiful??? and frankly he has to look away for a second because you’re tOO beautiful that he doesn’t know what to do with himself

that’s it u are under arrest for being too pretty >:(

jungkook’s flustered because there’s just these types of people that put a knot on his chest unknowingly and he doesn’t know how to act normally

you are the equivalent of him not being able to look at the screen because the kdrama was that good and he feels unworthy to even watch it

it’s goosebumps all over his skin and he’d be lying when he says his cheeks are not heating up at aLL

“taehyung, you dumbass!!”

his first instinct is to scold taehyung because what iF he ended up hurting you with his skateboard, hmm?? and tHEN what

he expected you to leave after that close-call and if everyone must know, jungkook has an incredible talent at being able to scope out things in his peripheral vision

he could look straight ahead and be able to see what you were also doing at the side

he doesn’t know if that’s a talent or uH everyone has it but whatever he can do that!!!

and you were clearly still there and in fact, even sIT down on the bench

he could see you smiling and giggling and a ginormous part of him assumes that it’s because of him

he prays to god that it’s NOT the guy who almost decked you with a skateboard ://

jungkook was acting weird and he kept smiling and laughing mORE than necessary and taehyung can see right through him

“bro all i did was walk towards you wtf are you laughing,,.,”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHHA tae you’re so silly XD”

alrighty then,, maybe jungkook just binge-ate his vitamin gummies which is why he keeps beaming for an unknown reason

koo was so grumpy literally just before he had his skateboard flying and now he’s ???? weird

jungkook was ultimately sad to see you get up and he knows he’s probably never gonna see you again ok alright time to mope

but this

this

he’s beyond surprised to see that said owner of giant dog happens to be yOU!! of all the people!!!!

it’s you!

“i’m so so sorry about him!! he’s just excited to make friends with everyone and i don’t have the sLIGHTEST clue why he came to you!!”

you pointedly look at chimmy and he has the audacity to howl before looking away

it hasn’t dawned on you that you’re talking and apologizing to him but it certainly did on jungkook which is why he’s charmingly laughing already

“no, no. it’s okay, i don’t mind!! his name’s chimmy, then?”

you’re blinking profusely because yes.. right.. HE is talking to you

“yeah, uh, correct!! his name’s chimmy :)”

“that’s cute. anyways, i’m jungkook :)”

aha :D

koo would like to think that he is smooth

and yes you agree

you immediately shake his hand tOO eagerly with a smile on your face as you’re trying to take this all in

“i’m y/n :)”

jungkook’s hand is bigger than yours and your hand fits sNUGLY right into his hold

he has some tattoos on his hands and there’s some peaking from underneath his hoodie

but even with ur lasik vision you cAN’T focus because omg are you seriously holding jungkook’s hand.,.,

jungkook as in THEE jungkook that you’ve immediately clocked and crushed on last night in an instant

your lil moment of just holding each other’s hands is interrupted when taehyung pops out of nOwhere

(( actually he’s been there for the past two minutes and he kept switching between cooing and laughing ))

“yO i’m taehyung!!! you must be y/n, i didn’t nick you last night, did i?”

he takes it upon himself to hug you right then and there

well he’s warm and he passes the internal vibe check yoongi’s hotwired into your brain so you reciprocate!! you like hugs anyway and taehyung’s just like chimmy but in human form

jungkook practically squawks and stammers in his place because w-why.. w-what...... no

chimmy bARKS at taehyung and koo is tempted to do the same too because no man you simply do nOt hug my crush that you know absolutely nothing about

“he’s asking for you.”

kook points to chimmy who’s obviously pouncing on you to come run with him

you excuse yourself so you could go satisfy the giant and jungkook felt like his heart was gonna fall out of his aSS

tae wiggles his eyebrows and has his lips pursed and it’s the shit-eating grin that he immediately flips off as soon as he sees it

“what was that all about?”

you are convinced

you are 100% convinced

your head is fully-set into the game and in no way are you gonna back out

“min yoongi!!”

ah there it is

yoongi’s having the time of his life playing fetch with chimmy! what could possibly be any more important in this world than that

“what did i do now?”

you only call out his full name when a) you’re agitated and when b) he’s ignoring you and you’ve had enough of it

he really doesn’t recall giving you the cold shoulder recently

and he certainly didn’t agitated you when all he’s done is play with chimmy and sleep!!!

“please click this for me pls. click. please. pls click.”

aH yoongi should’ve brought his glasses instead of leaving them on the couch

you’re holding out your laptop to him with your arms outstretched and he has to come really close to decipher and-

... huh

“a skateboard?”

pardon him but he’s really lost on this one ok

he is as lost as he was when walmart decided to completely rearrange the whole store

“... and what do you need a skateboard for? y/n when i said that you should get yourself a four-wheeler, i didn’t mean a skateboard-”

in what part does a skateboard look like an SUV

whY are you like this

“it’s for uh... it’s for fun purposes!!”

you’re trying not to raise any more questions in yoongi’s mind but his head is miles miles away now lol

???? you hate trying new things though ???

one time you traded in your beef ramen for pork ramen because the first one was out of stock and throughout the whole meal you kept thinking how much you regretted it

and besides, skateboarding would be the last thing you’d get into!!!

yoongi distinctly remembers that you’d rather choke on chewing gum rather than get your knees scraped

why was that?? because when your knees get scraped, walking and doing everything else?? impossible 

nice try sherlock but the moment you do so much as to not stand up straight?? sIT down?? yeah your knees would give out 

what has got to be something so special that you’d wanna get into skateboarding and risk yourself into getting your knees scraped??

....

....

omg is that what he thinks it is

“... it’s a crush, isn’t it?”

the way you instantly shut him down and practically have to beg him just to press the check out button.,..

aha 

yeah yoongi’s gotten his answer alright :D

whatever this is

or whatever that’s going on

you’re sure that you’ve never felt this content for a long time

you now bring a change of clothes so you wouldn’t go skating in your uniform because that just honestly sucks

you may be too tired to walk to the skatepark which is why sometimes you’d book a ride, but no you’re never tOO tired to skate and see jungkook :D

it’s frustrating enough as it is

yoongi used to skate and that’s the reason why you’ve found this shortcut in the first place because this was where the park was!! you’d always think at the back of your head on wHY was yoongi struggling!!!

smh that’s so easy yoongs </3

joke’s on you now though because trying to balance on the board in the first place scared you shitless because hOW were you supposed to do this??

you can ride a bike and that has tWO wheels and this has fOUR bearings!!! how come you can’t balance yourself??

even managing to stand up on the board without panicking for more than ten seconds AND managing to shift from left to right even if it’s albeit shaky at first, took you a wHOLE evening

but you’re so proud of yourself and so is jungkook :D

jungkook finds it the highlight of his night when you’d hold onto him

yes he knOws you have it under control now and you barely hold onto him for support

“just so you won’t fall, that’s all.”

he always evades your eyes when you go look up at him dreamily like that because how could he not???

you’ve covered the basics of pushing yourself then simultaneously riding the skateboard!!

you do that for one WHOLE week and both jungkook and tae (and yoongi) think it’s time that you do something else besides skate in one straight line and occasionally to a left and a right

ok you’re kind of scared shitless because you already fell a couple of times but y’know what?? it’s time!!

society has progressed past the need of you skating in a straight path

the society NEEDS you to do tricks now

.....

........

confession time:

dear diary the kickflip is simply not kicking the board in an attempt to flip it by itself. it is not. it is not as easy as it sounds. it is the bane of my existence

it’s evident that you’re stalling out of your way with this one but you just need oNE success and that’s it!!! one win to woo jungkook from his feet and then you’d stop

tae has already shut you up too because you keep talking about how your day went when you already is set four times before that

and it must’ve been a lucky first time because you absolutely nAIL it on the first try!!!

you honestly thought you’d land square on your ass and see bruises on it later in the shower but N-O!! you’ve done it perfectly and-

jungkook’s not looking

he didn’t see your feat!!

or maybe he didn’t see it because he chosE not to!!!

OR

maybe doing a kickflip is nothing impressive and it’s obvious that he’s a pro at this compared to you who’s even more of a novice that makes taehyung look like a god

you can’t have that :((

ok ok hOW can you impress jungkook

there must be something you could do to impress him!!

omg

that’s it

this is practically perfect!!

you’re gonna do your first drop-in at a pipe that is nowhere gOOD for a beginner like you :D

one, two, th-

“easy, doll.”

jungkook materializes out of nowhere and you expected him to be skating at the far end!! not mere inches away from your face holding your hANDS

this is the first time you’ve seen jungkook actually this close and you just have this urge to kiss his cheek

he has you whipped for him and he hasn’t even done anything to you!!!

“not the best idea to go down an eight-foot tall half-pipe for your first time, hm?”

he scrunches his nose at your absurd thoughts because absolutely wHY would you do that??

how could you fall in love with him even mORE

“do the two-feet tall one first. go have taehyung teach you.”

the grin in your face goes as fast as it came

no offense to taehyung but he’s not the one your head-over-heels for :((

practically everyone knows about your crush on jungkook BESIDES jungkook himself

you’re tapping tae on the shoulder to come and teach you while you just watch kook shred it at the other side of the park by himself

it’s okay!! progress is progress and you’re gonna get far with jungkook!!

going to the skatepark right after work is now your new routine

sometimes you even come with yoongi when he’s free and he takes all his time to gloat on how you used to make fun of him when he was skating avidly back then

that gives you a grand total of three (3) people teaching you how to skate and giving you pointers

jungkook also now holds conversation from time to time :D

he’d ask you how your day went and you’d have to pretend that you didn’t wait for him to ask so you’re not spilling detail after detail

he now does this thing of pinching your cHEEK when you get something right 

your heart after doing an ollie goes bEEP when he pinches your cheek and tells you eagerly that you did such a good job

yoongi’s laid off his teasing for you and jungkook but god he can’t deny that he gets these weird vibes from him

eh it’s probably nothing

today you’re especially excited because it was an outfit that you just bought and you feel gREAT in it!!!

tbh your day was the absolute worst but jungkook is always a great pick-me-up to whatever day you could have :)

a tennis skirt with shorts already built underneath is the greatest save of ur life

it’s a little on the more expensive side because it IS a name-brand and those don’t come cheap but it’s ok :D it’s gonna be worth it :D it better be :D

oh uhm

jungkook seems different today.... ?

you were used to him looking intimidating and mad even if he wasn’t, but this time it just felt emphasized even more

taehyung’s here but he’s not the only one!!! there’s two guys with jungkook on the other side of the ramp

“those are his friends, i guess?? i don’t know, he hasn’t introduced them to me.”

so you’re nOT the only one who’s lost

jungkook will probably come around later and you could all hang out again :))

chimmy happily chuffs at your side and that just gives taehyung the most wonderful idea he’s ever had this day

“hEY which one of us do you think could out-skate chimmy???”

jungkook is utterly and without a doubt stressed 

he knew that hoseok and namjoon would come over, but he didn’t expect that they’d visit him while he was in the park!!!!

and he already knows what they’re here for and that just makes him grimace :((

“why don’t you want to go pro?”

koo’s ears feel like bleeding when hobi asks him that for the nth time

god it’s always just the sAME question!! he could practically sniff the air on what they’re gonna say next

“jungkook, i think we all know that you’re more than qualified to be a pro!! look at you!!”

it’s the same conversation over and over again

the next things they’d say are that he’s a natural and he’s wasting all his talent doing this thing cASUALLY

he’s not the next tony hawk or anything like that!!! he’s not gonna book a sponsorship and a collaboration with vans!!! but hobi and joon kEEP insisting that he’s that good

“hyung, i think we’ve already talked about this-...”

“yes and you refusE to listen!! why can’t you just accept the fact that you have a much better future in this??”

jungkook’s currently a freelance graphic designer which means he works from home and he’s in charge of his oWN schedule

but it doesn’t necessarily mean that every single day he gets a new commission or anything grand like that

he’s gonna be honest and say that yES he has thought of being a pro skater!! but he’s trying to be as rational as possible about it

because not every competition would be a win and not competitions don’t happen as frequent as a typical job is!!

and what iF jungkook gets injured?? something of an injury that would lay him off from skating 

and being unable to skate??? = he basically gets nOTHING

he feels pressures because hobi and joon are pro skaters already!! and that gives them all the more reason to make jungkook into one

not to flex but uh they’re both quite already kNOWN

and jungkook hasn’t even started his pro career but he’s already known!!! both by his skills and the fact that he’s friends with these two champions

“i literally do not care if you beat me!! just come take the leap and be a pRO already, jungkook!!! it’s a loss as it is that you still consider yourself an amateur.”

their words, not his 

ok uhm what if

what if jungkook opens a skate clinic?? he can do what he loves and in the same time, earn money!!

... yeah

okay! 

that could work!! and if he feels extra prepared, then yeah maybe he’d be a pro

or would a skate clinic be useless if he isn’t a pro by then???

oh my god

jungkook’s so frustrated with all this sudden bombarding and it makes him want to tug at his hair

as much as he loves his hyungs, sometimes they just can’t seem to know when to back oFF and realize that their nudging is more like shoving

“do something productive and worth your time, jungkook. stop babysitting.”

namjoon says with an edge and that tames jungkook

what makes it worse was what they were implying in the first place

hoseok doesn’t make it discreet to look at taehyung and you

“tae, tae, look!! i’m doing it, i’m doing it!!”

you’re saying over your shoulder because omg you’re getting the lead and chimmy’s slowed down for some reason

well actually taehyung’s took it upon himself to stop behind you

“guys?”

you get an immediate answer when you feel someone effectively hALT you still and you almost fall on your ass just by the sheer strength of someone holding you up

jungkook’s holding you down and his hands are quite heAVy on your arms

there’s this unexplainable look on his face but you’re positive that it’s not one of happiness

“you should probably stop doing whatever it is that you’re doing.”

oh

to be honest you’re unsure of how to react

but the way that jungkook looks like he’s mad at you and retreats back to those two guys with a scoff in his step -- 

it’s enough

it’s truly enough for you to reevaluate every decision you’ve ever made

maybe it’s simply not just a bad day for you and a case of overthinking thigs,, and it’s perhaps the fact that he want you to stop

stop whatever that is happening

you probably must be frozen in place because chimmy bounds and pounces at you

you probably must’ve looked like an utter fool,, skating in a tennis skirt and trying to outrace a damn dog in a fucking skatepark,, right in front of jungkook and his friends

“y/n, you uh, y’okay?”

tae’s worried because there’s an instant shift to your mood and he could only assume what you were feeling

tears prick at the back of your eyes and that’s the signal for you to gather your things in a flash because the last thing you’d want is to cRY in front of him

“y-yeah! i’m gonna go home, tae. chimmy’s looking for yoongi.”

the dog in question tilts his head because w hat now,,,.,., wha t,.,. he is???

you learned that dogs could smell emotions and that makes you even sadder

chimmy was behaved the whole time; didn’t even try straying you around when he keeps seeing umbrellas on the street even if he loves them

you’re okay

:)

you should be okay

....

there’s something definitely off

yoongi’s cleaned everything and did his share of chores

the tv is still mounted and the microwave’s clean!!

chimmy didn’t have a toilet accident because if he did, he would’ve already picked it up

there’s definitely something off with yOU

because first of all, why are you here???

“not coming to the park?”

if he can recall correctly, no matter how knackered you were after work, you’d still go to the skatepark!!

... not unless you were injured??

nah because if you were injured then you’d be whining to him now

“nope :)”

you’re lying on the couch where he usually lies nowadays because you weren’t around!!

and you’re drinking from your mug that he’s claimed as his mug

and chimmy’s squished in between the tiny gap of you and the far edge of the couch

“and why?”

he’s always had answers for everything but his mind’s bLANK for this

“wanna spend time with you guys :)”

oh

okay

that’s gotta be the answer, right???

this is definitely weird

for starters, it’s already 11 PM and jungkook’s still in the skatepark and he’s not even skating anymore

he’s just waiting

weird... you aren’t here.......

aH it’s nothing :D you’re probably just tired and didn’t want to go skate

oh and.. you’re not here the next day

or the next

or the nEXT

jungkook spends almost the entirety of his time in the park

he goes there at 3 in the afternoon and comes home at 11 in the evening

no big deal

half of the time is just spent him actually skating and the other is figuring out wHERE you are

uh maybe you’ve started to take ubers now every time you come home??

you’re not walking home anymore and the car would pass by the skatepark and jungkook wouldn’t have a single clue where you are

it’s also this time that it dawns on him that he has no means whatsoever to contact you

he didn’t ask for your number and didn’t exchange socials so he could only gUESS

he can’t come over to your apartment either because he hasn’t walked you home and therefore he wouldn’t know your address

holy shit he’s so dumb and jungkook misses you a lot

like a whole whole lot

he misses you holding onto his shoulders for support and misses your excited grin whenever you nail a trick and had a perfect run

there’s nothing that jungkook could dO besides wait

and miss you so much

and mope

kook doesn’t want to give up and miss a day because what iF you pass by when he’s not there???

he can’t have that and he wON’t have that

he’s just so antsy and he hasn’t had his fix of chimmy bounding towards him and the malamute intentionally pouncing on him whenever he’d drop-in so he could lose his balance

he just needs to see you and your duffel bag and the precious yet beat-up wristwatch you have and-

WAIT

THAT’S YOU!!!

jungkook’s brought his perfume the past few days because he wouldn’t want to be aND smell sweaty when he sees you again

he’s wearing a shirt this time and nOT a hoodie and it’s actually a nice shirt!! the pale orange makes his tattoos pop

he’s also wearing a watch so he could look business-ish and composed and he kinda hATES watches because uhhhh you ever heard of a phone, buddy??

you’re walking striaght and paying no mind at all and to your surrounding and-

there’s suddenly this cRASH in front of you and it makes you recall in response because that came out of nowhere

... and this feels oddly familiar

only this time though, it’s intentional and it’s jungkook who literally tHREW his skateboard down on the spot in front of you

“y/n? wow, what a coincidence!”

you didn’t expect to see jungkook as soOn as you anticipated that he wouldn’t be here

he laughs nervously and he tries not to overanalyze the fact that your face is blank

:|

“yup. totally.”

you’re avoiding his gaze and meanwhile he’s searching desperately for yours 

what is he feeling and why is it hurt and longing at the same time

“can i walk you home?”

the words tumble out of his mouth before he could even ponder over them longer

“i uh, i rEALLY can’t believe i never asked to walk you home!! or even ask for your number!!! but uHhhh it’s late at night and to be honest i don’t have your number and i just need to know that you’re safe and-”

he stops his rambling right there because he realizes that he’s a stuttering nervous mess

you’re a bit speechless because normally you’re the chatty one but this one.,.,,. this one’s a pleasant surprise

“yeah, yeah. okay :)”

he can’t believe either that you agreed to it but he’s immediately gathering himself and swoops your duffel for him to hold

he’s not gonna entertain a single complaint <3

it’s not exactly the most tensioned silence ever but it’s definitely nOT comfortable

“why didn’t you come to the park?”

okay well sHIT you didn’t expect him to be this straightforward

wait no 

you shouldn’t be surprised!! after all, he probably did mean what he said the last time you’ve seen him

what are u gonna say now

well you coulD say that you’re busy and he’d probably fall for it!!

or reiterate the truth that he’s implied and say it with a straight face

“oh. i started intentionally falling on my ass because i missed you,” jungkook spills out of nowhere while waiting for your answer and he now realizes that might’ve been a little awkward

after all he dID admit that he missed you

ahem

“did i uhm... did i say something?”

he rephrases his question and he knows that this was the more appropriate one

your coping mechanism is to kick on the ground as if there were leaves and there are absolutely nO leaves <3

“jungkook, you told me to stop.”

he blinks rapidly at that as he tries to digest your words

he’s trying to backtrack as much as possible and it wasn’t that!!

he simply doesn’t wanna see you hurt

“i can’t explain it but holy shiT i can’t see you hurt!! a-and i know that being hurt in skating is normal but for sOME reason i can’t stand it when i see you in pain o-or-...”

jungkook just can’t explaiN what he feels

“i just -- i just don’t gEt why you’d want to be hurt?? whY are you doing this to yourself??”

you find him ridiculous and this whole situation is just rIDICULOUS

“jesus christ jungkook i did it to try and impress a guy!!”

that earns you a snort and you immediately go defensive

he seems irked and his eyes are just beGGING to be rolled

“who?? taehyung?? the guy who would’ve wiped you out if he did end up hitting you on the head with the deck just a little harder??”

“what? taehyung???” you’re so confused and jungkook hates it even more, “yeah, taehyung!!”

“i like you, jungkook!”

o-oh

uhm

a.....ha

“me?”

he points to himself to which you eagerly nod your head to

“can you excuse me for one second?”

he barely gives you the time to respond because he’s already walking away and biting his arm

he’s actually sCREAMING

you throw your head back because omg did the two of you just basically admit that you liked each other

jungkook jogs back to where you stand a presses a hefty kISS right on your cheek

he’s on too much of a high that he holds your hand and practically drags you along with him because he’s almost skIPPING from how happy he is

“okay. good. nice. very good!!!” he could now sigh in relief because whEW that robbed him off his breath

“because i fell for you when i first saw you.”

jungkook basically has nO filter now and it’s adorable because god he’s just so soft and you now know what’s going and this wouldn’t be just whatever

“huh. imagine if yOU fell for me too at the same time,,,, that would make me piss my pants.”

he cackles because wow he dO be funny :D

he’s turning to look at you to gauge at your reaction and the waY that you’re holding your eye contact with him is all-telling for your answer

oh my god

jungkook is wrapped around your pinky :’)

[arrow-guy]

The Lighthouse (10/??)

Summary: The town is sleepy, the people are nice enough, but life gets turned upside-down when the God of Thunder literally falls out of the sky.

A/N: It feels to good to finally be back to this story. It’s been too long. that being said, here we are with chapter 10! Serious discussions and movement in the story lie ahead, so buckle up, lads. Hope you enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing: ThorxReader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Harsh language

part 9

“I agree with (Y/N),” Thor says.

Loki scowls. “Of course you’d agree with her. You’re in love with her.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I protest. “There’s been no talk of the ‘L’ word thus far in our relationship, don’t go putting words in his mouth!”

Thor glances up at me briefly but quickly focuses on his brother again. “I agree with her because she’s right. We stand a better chance of defeating him if we have support from the Avengers.”

“Thank you!” I cry. “At least someone in your family can see some kind of sense.”

“And you think it’s him?!” Loki hisses.

“I’m more inclined to think it’s him than you.” He scowls and I shake my head. “I mean, seriously. You, Thor, and I are no match for an intergalactic warlord!”

“She’s right, Loki,” Thor says. “You know this.”

“Fine,” Loki snaps. “Have it your way. Drag every single one of your little friends into this. Earth is doomed, regardless.”

“You don’t know that,” I say.

“I know what Thanos is capable of,” Loki says, his tone low and filled with dread. “I’ve been bent to his will and the instrument through which he exacted his first attack on your planet.”

"I'm not saying that working with the Avengers secures us the win. It just means that we'd have a fighting chance." Loki keeps his face carefully blank and I squint at him. “Unless you think that won’t be enough.”

“I know it won’t be enough,” he grinds out. “And I know this because there are three Infinity Stones on this planet, and Thanos won’t stop until he has all three of them.”

“Three?” Thor’s brow furrows. “I am only aware of two.”

“That’s because the last time you were on Earth there were only two.” He holds out his hand and a glowing blue cube materializes in his palm. “I possess the third.”

“And you couldn’t say something earlier?!” I hiss. “You’ve been talking us in circles when you had the answer up your sleeve the entire time.”

“You should’ve told us, brother,” Thor growls. “This isn’t the time for keeping secrets.”

“How am I to know?” Loki demands. “Your human has so much magic hidden inside of them, how can I assume that she has only the best intentions in mind?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

“Don’t you?” Loki hisses. “You speak of performing spells that someone like you should have absolutely no access to as if you’re simply going for a stroll.”

“Wh-”

“Do you realize how much power is necessary to track something across the galaxy?” His eyes narrow and I try to shrink away from him. “There is something old and powerful within you that you’ve been tapping into. I’m surprised even Thor hasn’t noticed yet.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” I glance between Loki and Thor, confused. "Thor?"

Thor shakes his head. "True, she's powerful, but I don't know what you're talking about, brother."

Loki scowls. “Of course you don’t. I don’t know why I even bother asking.”

“If you know so much, why don’t you fix everything then, huh?” I demand. “Because all you’ve been this morning is contrary and argumentative.”

“Clearly I’m not capable of solving this problem on my own, or even with my brother added to the equation.”

“Then what’s your grand plan?”

“Your power, in your untrained state, is volatile. But,” he says. “I could teach you.”

“You mean use me and my magic as you see fit,” I correct.

“No, I simply mean that I could better help you to hone your skills than Heimdall can from where he is,” Loki explains. “I am more than talented enough to bring out your full potential.”

“That doesn’t sound much better than what I just said you’d do.” I scowl. “Besides, we wouldn’t have to worry about taking down a galactic super tyrant as a band of three if we just call the fucking Avengers.”

“Oh please, you’ll need to know either way.”

“Maybe. But I’m sure as hell not learning from you, and I’m definitely not having this argument.”

I push myself up from the kitchen table and hurry up the stairs to shut myself in my office. I sit down in my chair, sigh, and put my head down on my desk.

“Childish,” I mumble.

A quiet thump against the door draws my attention away from wallowing in self pity. When the sound doesn’t come again, I get up to investigate.

Upon opening the door, I find Charles sitting outside, patiently waiting for me to let him in. I gesture for him to come inside and he meows before trotting through the door. He hops up onto my chair and then my desk, where he curls up on his blanket under the desk lamp. Only when he’s settled am I reminded that I hid in my office to distract myself with work.

I open my laptop and check my email.

Someone knocks softly and cracks open the door.

“I’m working,” I say.

“It’s been hours, (Y/N).” I glance up and Thor slips into the room. “I brought you something to eat.”

“Oh.” He holds out a plate with a sandwich and carrot sticks on it and I take it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Thor scoops up Charles from the desk and takes a seat on the couch. I pick up a carrot and roll it between my thumb and index finger before taking a bite.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I say. ”I was out of line, storming off like that. I should’ve stuck around.”

“Maybe, but there are times when Loki ignores the comfort of others in favor of pushing on with his own plans. But being the loudest person in the room doesn’t make him right.”

I nod. “I just don’t want to set things back because of a stupid argument. There are more important things to deal with right now than my anxiety over learning to control my magic.”

“I’d say you’ve got a fine grasp on your magic, for now. We wouldn’t be anywhere near where we are, had you not worked so diligently with Heimdall to find Loki.”

“Recklessly, is more like it,” Heimdall says. “Though I cannot argue with his logic. You’ve made incredible progress in your skill in the time that I’ve been teaching you.”

“But should I take Loki up on his offer?” I ask, my voice small. “I saw what happened when he restored your memories. I’m not sure my body could handle that.”

“I’m sure it would be different, were he to teach you and not forcibly put the knowledge into your mind, but…” Thor shakes his head. “That’s not a choice that I can make for you.”

“I know.” I pick at the sandwich. “I still think we should contact your team. Even if Loki’s right, and they aren’t enough, they’re bound to know more people that can help.”

“Then we’ll call them.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“What about Loki?”

“Loki doesn’t know everything, and I am well aware that I’ll never be able to convince him otherwise. But we don’t need to halt our progress simply because he disagrees with your plan.”

“Thing is, it’d be really nice if it weren’t just my plan.”

“It’s not. I have your back on this.”

I nod. “How do we contact them, though? It’s not like I can just google their phone number.”

“There’s no need.”

“Huh?”

“I memorized Stark’s number years ago.”

“You… memorized Tony Stark’s personal phone number?”

“I did. With the way he flits from one thing to another, he is not an easy man to keep track of. Most of the team either memorized his number or stuck to him like glue.”

I laugh. “I see.”

He smiles. “You should eat. We’ll call after.”

With my meal finished, Thor and I situate ourselves on the floor in the middle of my office. Charles climbs all over our laps and I have to push his face away from my phone several times.

“You’re sure this is the right number?”

“I’m certain.”

“Okay.” I dial the number, put the phone on speaker, and hold it away from me. “What if he doesn’t answer?”

“He will, (Y/N). It’s not as if it’s easy to find this number.”

“Okay.” I bite my thumb, unsure of what to do with myself. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Explain the situation. We know Thanos is close and that Banner is Earth-side." He tries to reassure me with a smile. "You can do this. I promise."

The phone suddenly stops ringing and my eyes snap to Thors. He nods once and I focus in on the phone.

“How did you get this number.” It’s not a question.

“Tony Stark, right?” I ask.

“If you know enough to ask, then you know you’ve got the right number. Now, how’d you find it?”

“Thor gave it to me.”

“Bullshit.”

“Considering he’s sitting directly across from me right now, I’m gonna say it’s really not.”

"Still don't believe you."

"Well, I could always hand the phone off…" I catch Thor shaking his head. "I'm getting a firm no from the big guy, so I'm gonna say he wants me to do most of the talking."

"Convenient."

“Yeah, extremely. Listen, you can hang up on me, but at least hear me out. I wouldn’t even think about calling you or anyone on your team if it weren’t a life or death situation.”

He sighs. “Fine. If I don’t like what I hear, I’m hanging up.”

“I can’t promise you’ll like it.”

“Just talk.”

I take a deep breath and start talking.

“A few months ago, Thor crash landed in the forest just outside of town. No memory of what happened to get him there or anything like that. I helped him find Loki, who restored his memory, we found out that Asgard was destroyed and then the ship they were on was attacked by a galactic tyrant named Thanos, who’s on his way to Earth as we speak.” I pause a moment to take a breath. “But you knew that last bit already.”

“How would you know?”

“Because Dr. Banner’s back on Earth.”

“... Yes he is. Crashed into some wizard's place on Bleeker Street.”

I frown and glance up at Thor. “Wizard?”

Thor leans forward. “Stark, you said a wizard on Bleeker Street?”

“That you, Hammer Time?‘

“Yes, it’s me. You said a wizard on Bleeker Street. Do you mean Doctor Strange?”

“Have you two met?”

“Yes, actually. Last time I was in New York.”

“Really wish you’d given us a call, pal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time, but right now we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Right, another alien invasion. What do they want this time?”

“The infinity stones,” Thor answers. “I’ve no clue how many he’s managed to gather as of now, but there are three on Earth as we speak.”

“Three?”

“One is with Strange, one with Vision, and the third is here, with Loki.”

“Thanos is coming here because we’ve got half of what he needs,” I interject. “If we can figure out a way to protect the stones here or use them against him, we’ll be better off in the long run.”

��And where do you play into this?” Stark asks.

“I just want to help. I can’t fight, but I can use magic. I’ll do whatever I can do make sure we win.”

“You really dig deep into that ‘we’ thing. We haven’t even met yet.”

“I trust her,” Thor says. “She’s powerful, and more than that, she’s reliable.”

“And what about Loki?”

“He’ll see reason, in the end.” Thor nods resolutely. “I’ll see to it that he does.”

“Good. I’ll fill the team in and send a Quin out to pick you three up. Be ready to leave early tomorrow.” He pauses. “Where exactly are you?”

“You’re the one with the fancy computers,” I say. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of tracing the call.”

Stark laughs. “You’re right. I started looking before I even picked up.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“What’s your name, mystery girl?”

“(Y/N).”

“Alright, (Y/N). I look forward to meeting you.”

“You too.”

The line goes dead and I drop the phone to the carpet before scrubbing my hands over my face.

“That went much better than I expected it would,” Thor admits.

“I never wanna do that ever again.” I laugh a little hysterically. “I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest.”

“I promise, he’s a kind man. He is, however…”

“A little paranoid?” Thor nods. “I can’t say I blame him.”

“Are you sure that you want to go with us?”

“Of course. I can’t let you guys cowboy around on your own, especially knowing your team’s past with Loki.”

“I only worry that you may not be safe.”

“I know, but I’ll be able to protect myself, to some extent, and I’m going to work on my magic so that I’ll be stronger before we have to fight. But, until then,” I push myself to my feet. “I need to apologize to your brother.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I figure I should be in good standing with someone before I ask them to teach me something.”

“You’re going to accept his offer?”

“I am. I have conditions, but we don’t have the luxury to wait for Heimdall now.” I cast my eyes upwards. “Absolutely no offense to you, we’re just pressed for time.”

“None taken. (Y/N). As it stands, I’m afraid we’ve most likely exhausted our resources.”

“Duly noted.” I reach out to Thor and he takes my hand. “Things’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I know.” He kisses my knuckles. “But that doesn’t mean that I fully trust Loki.”

“Don’t have to trust him to benefit from his knowledge.”

At that, Thor laughs. "I suppose you're right."

"Would you think of dinner ideas while I talk to him?”

Thor nods and gently pushes me towards the door before getting to his feet. Charles follows us out into the hall and takes off down the stairs. Thor finds Daisy when we reach the ground floor and takes her outside to play. I find Loki in the living room, reading a book on the couch. Charles has situated himself in the recliner across the room and is glaring at Loki, tail swishing.

“You should make an effort to tame your beasts,” Loki says, calmly turning the page in his book.

“Oh really, you’re worried about a little house cat?”

“He doesn’t like me.”

“I don’t like you much, either, so I can’t really blame him.”

He closes the book and sets it to the side. “What is it that you want?”

“I want to apologize for the way I acted earlier.”

“Why?”

“Because I was harsh and abrupt, and I figure it’s better to apologize before I ask you to teach me than after.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“The Avengers are sending a jet to pick us up tomorrow. All of us need to be ready for what’s coming, and Heimdall won’t be able to make it before Thanos does.”

He grins and leans forward on his knees, clearly enjoying this. “So what you’re saying is… you need my help.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

He sighs and leans against the back of the couch, examining his nails. “It’s alright to admit you were wrong, you know.”

“I literally just did. I’m saying that I need your help to fully understand my magic.”

“Now,” he rises to his feet and quickly approaches me. “Was that so hard?”

I roll my eyes and walk off to the back door. “You’re ridiculous.”

Alright, so we’re headed directly towards a confrontation with Thanos. More than a little stressful to think about, if I’m being honest. Learning from Loki won’t be any treat either, I’m sure.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! How do you feel about Loki’s place with the reader and Thor? What do you think will happen next? Be sure to like, reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Tag list:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101, @buckysendoftheline, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @silas-aeiou, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux, @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @idalinette, @breezy1415, @darling-loki, @lemonadeorange73, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark, @tomorraw, @feelmyroarrrr, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @princess-unicorn124, @hermionie-is-my-queen, @avengerscompound

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[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU, Pt. 2 (Pt. 1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5)

-----

Peter will admit that during he took an extended moment during his journey home to grieve the loss of his free afternoon, and indeed the impending headaches.

And the rest of his future, if he was honest.

Not that Peter was prone to melancholy by any means, but with this assignment his fate was officially sealed, there was no misunderstanding. He was going to fail this assignment. He was going to, for the first time in his academic career, be forced to submit garbage of a caliber worthy of Tony Stark. It will forever be a black mark on his academic record.

No respectable college is going to accept him after this. In fact, he might as well drop out of school now and hit up Mr Delmar for a job. All of his prep for his MIT application is as good as useless after this. Extracurriculars? Goodbye.

Because it’s confirmed.

He’s doomed.

Swaying with the motions of the train, Peter types a text to Ned, the only person who might provide him with some much needed sympathy.

>  I’m doomed >  paired w/stark for an assignment lollllllllll.  >  help

Maybe Peter could trade with Ned. Maybe he could plead with their teacher, for honest fear of his life and scholastic integrity. He wasn’t even exaggerating. In no known iteration of this universe could Peter amicably work with Tony Stark. It would be like Harry Potter sitting down for tea with Voldemort, or Frodo and Sauron chilling with a pint and a pipe in Bag End. 

It was unthinkable. Implausible. Laughable.

And Peter would laugh, were it anyone but him in this situation.

The feeling is unusual. Never had he found reason in his life to truly dislike anybody before, everyone could be redeemed or given the opportunity for penance. Natasha has said more than once that Peter would offer the devil himself a sandwich if he appeared. 

Tony Stark on the other hand? No sandwich for him.

Well, maybe a slice of bread. A stale one.

While he waits for Ned to responds he catches sight of his injured reflection in the train window, which is admittedly pretty gnarly. Even with his hood drawn up, there was a noticeable berth allocated to him in the busy carriage between himself and the other passengers.

< sux. can I have ur lego hogwarts if u die?

> dude :( pity me.

< lol. so, can i?

Peter sighs.

> sure. Look after May for me, bro. delete my internet history.

< deal. godspeed

Pocketing his phone, Peter wonders if it’s too late to take up praying.

---

By the time he’s back in his apartment his mood has managed to swing back up.

Tony Stark is not going to be the arbiter of Peter’s fate. Hell no. He’s smart, he’s creative and hardworking - it isn’t up to anybody but Peter to determine his outcomes. If he has to do the assignment with Stark then he will. And he will work his hardest. 

If he has to do it sharing the credit with Stark, well, Peter knows a concession when he sees one.

No matter how reluctant he is.

But he powers through it, like ripping off a bandaid. It’s fine! He’s a Parker and he’s come this far in life already against ill, Parker-like odds. What was being paired for one assignment with someone who escaped the nearest hellmouth? 

It’ll be fine. 

Probably.

Not letting himself linger on his fears, Peter clears out his previous plans of going on a YouTube spiral and eating sour gummies until his teeth stick, instead utilising the time to get his foot in and and begins prepping for the assignment. Cursory, preliminary research at first, before the inevitable deep dive begins.

Neanderthal, Peter scoffs, mad all over again. Who is Stark to call Peter a neanderthal? He’s second in his class. He’s a straight A student. He likes school.

And as much as he is moderately skilled in, and enjoys JV, it’s not like he received his scholarship to study at Midtown based on his physical prowess.

The graze on his cheek that stings every time he yawns is proof of that.

Stark can eat his entire ass and choke on it, he thinks darkly, as he continues his research. He doesn’t know the first thing about Peter.

The data is sobering as he delves into job listings and statistics of his projected salary in a three year margin. This is really what his teachers earn? Wow. Depressing.

The contrast of expected salary versus the forecast of steep student loans is disheartening further still.

Teaching quietly slips from second to third on his list of ideal occupations.

Turning on a playlist on his phone, Peter continues to compile notes, amassing a truly gargantuan amount of tabs on his browser. His computer, old enough to be on its’ last teeth, whirrs loudly in protest.

It’s not until his room goes dark that he thinks to check the time.

Ah, shit. It’s nearly six.

Peter pauses. Should he tidy up the apartment?

...Nah, no point in breaking a sweat for Stark.

He continues typing. Then he hesitates, fingers suspended in mid-air. 

But what if Stark sees his unfolded laundry out on the dining table and publicly shames him for his old-but-comfortable Bulbasaur themed boxer shorts?

Goddamnit.

---

A quick, cursory clean ensues and leaves a relatively orderly Parker apartment. No freshly laundered underwear is in sight.

Peter wraps up just a few minutes before six. Right on time.

Taking a seat at the now clear dining table Peter drums his fingers on the surface and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

---

He knows when Tony finally arrives when he hears the sound of a car pulling up outside his apartment block. The riffs of a Roxette remix can be heard playing loudly  from the ground to the seventh floor of his apartment, the bass so thunderous it reverberates the windows all the way up to his floor.

Drumming his fingers on the kitchen table, Peter checks the wall clock again. It’s nearly seven.

Tony’s late.

Not that Peter is particularly affected with surprise that Tony is incapable of following basic instructions, but still. Really? Really?

By the time there is a knock on his door, Peter is already before it, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. Every second between Tony pulling up and his ascent to Peter’s floor has him positively fuming. He can’t believe how this day played out. It started with such promise. He had such innocuous, but high hopes.

Clearly, he miscalculated.

Feeling a touch petty, he waits to answer, listening to Stark knock a second and then a third, more insistent time before he rouses enough calm to open the door.

He instantly regrets it when he does. 

Tony’s expression is curious one as he breezes right passed Peter without waiting for further invitation. There’s a smudge of something dark on his brow, his otherwise white undershirt smeared in dark stains.

Peter watches incredulously as the other boy drops his backpack by the door with a thump.

“You’re late.”

He closes the door behind Tony and scowls at the other boys easy posture, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes taking in the apartment.

“I didn’t realise you lived all the way out in fucking Queens. Do you have any idea how bad traffic is at this time of day? Also, your elevator doesn’t work. I just climbed seven flights of stairs, where’s the hospitality?”

“Try earning it.”

The other boy rolls his eyes. “Like it’s worth my time.” He breezes past Peter and slides his leather jacket off his arms, tossing it atop of his backpack in the corner. “Look, I’m here now. Okay? You can unclench now. So, do I get a tour or what?”

“Or what. This wouldn’t have been an issue if we had just started straight after class like I said.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Tony clutches his hands to his heart before gesturing to the room. “I didn’t realise I was interrupting your busy Friday night, Parker. You got a keg and the rest of the meatheads stashed away somewhere?”

Without waiting for a response, Tony wanders around the living room like a curious child in a new play room. His gaze inspects everything all at once, from peering at up close at the wall mounted photos and hovering his grubby hands over the oddments and knick-knacks speckled throughout the space.

Apprehensive, Peter can’t help but shadow him, afraid he just let loose a hurricane in a china shop.

Without asking, Tony picks up May’s old Magic 8-Ball and gives it a good shake. Peter’s fingers itch to reach over and stop him, but stops himself because then that would require actually making direct skin contact the other boy.

Not worth it.

“Cannot predict now. Huh,” Tony says to himself before placing the ball back in the wrong spot. 

They both watch silently as it rolls precariously close to the edge. 

“Anyways,” Tony helps himself to an armchair, lounging back and spreading his legs wide. “I know your long-term memory is probably as defective as the rest of you, so don’t strain yourself recalling that I had other priorities.”

“Like what?”

“Like literally anything that isn’t being around you,” the other boy grins. “Now, are we doing this thing, or did you invite me over so you could bitch at me?”

“I didn’t invite you,” Peter grumbles, swiping his notebook from the dining table before sitting on the sofa, as far away from Stark as possible. Shifting, he takes his phone from his pocket and opens the notes he’d taken earlier.

“So, I cross referenced some websites and current job listings,” Peter scrolls through his research, adjusting his glasses as they slip down his nose. “Assuming you have no savings, we’re looking at an average of sixty-thousand per annum based on my salary alone. The average rent in --”

“-- Uh, why are we assuming I have no savings?”

"Because... we’re being realistic?”

Tony springs to his feet and paces across the living room.

“Well,” he says, gesturing to Peter, “if we’re being realistic, does having no savings also that mean I have no debt -- or are you paying off two student loans on your salary?”

“I don’t --”

“Do we have car loans? Health insurance?”

“Wait, slow your roll, Stark. I haven’t yet --”

“-- Of course you haven’t. I mean really, Parker, do you ever think ahead? You should try it, we do have a baby on the way, you know.” Tony clicks his fingers and points at Peter. “Oh, names! I want to call it Molly.”

“As in the drug?” 

“No, as in Ringwald. Anyhoo, seeing as only one of us has the intellectual capacity to construct a budget,” Tony gestures to himself, “that would be me, consider maybe that I spent my savings paying off my student loans and bought a car for me and Miss Molly, leaving you with just your own stagnant debt. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling utterly steamrolled. “But we’re not calling the baby Molly.”

“Yes, we are. Think of all the great nicknames. Hey wait,” Tony pauses in his pacing, “are your parents going to be home soon?”

It was in that moment Peters world narrows down to one, botched cosmic joke.

Turning his gaze heavenwards, Peter prays silently for mercy. What did he do to deserve this. This is all his bad karma come at once. This is the bad place.

“Ah, no,” he replies, eyes widening. “No, my parents are not going to be home soon.”

“Cool. Lucky you.”

Oblivious to Peter’s existential turmoil, Tony resumes his patrol through the living room, picking up a frame on the mantle. It houses an old photo of Ben, May and a young, bespectacled Peter. 

It is one of the more embarrassing immortalisations of his younger self, eleven-years old and grinning widely, bearing his silver braces to the camera as he holds up a science fair trophy, curls wild and untamed.

Oh god. That was exactly what Peter needed on this unholy day - Tony Stark in his living room, witnessing Peter in his prepubescent glory. 

Quick, create a diversion.

“So, as I was saying,” he says loudly, “rent is reasonably affordable with a sixty-thousand budget in --”

“Who’s the babe?” Tony points to a younger Aunt May in the photo.

Peter gets to his feet and removes the frame from Tony’s grasp. He glowers as he places it back on the mantle. 

“No one you would have a chance with. Can you stay focused? Like, are you physically capable of it?”

“Okay, calm down,” Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “You’ve got a lot of anger for someone so vertically challenged, you know that, shortstack?” 

“Focus, dumbass.”

“I’m focused! Let’s see, we’ve established that I am excellent at managing my money. You have a shitty job and a shitty salary, and apparently my imaginary future self has terrible taste in men. So. Have I got that right? Where are we living?”

“Queens. LIC has some one bed, one baths that could be affordable.”

“Uh, rewind. Going to have to eighty-six that - I am not living in Queens.”

Peter stares at him.

Tony rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “Fine, whatever. But I want a Pontiac Firebird in this imaginary life if I have to deal with you.”

“For someone so keen on getting away you’re doing your best to prolong this experience. It’s literally painful.”

“Well, I just like to see you get all riled up, Princess,” Tony grins, leaning back against the mantle and folding his arms over his chest. “You have this vein that bulges on your forehead when you’re mad. Makes you look like a pitbull.”

Peter swallows the particularly acidic retort sitting on his tongue and tries not to let Tony’s words sting. Be the bigger man, Ben used to say. As difficult as it is to channel even a modicum of the mans’ eternal patience, Peter takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay focused. The less he gets sidetracked by Tony’s fuckery, the sooner it’s over.

He mentions the next part with unease. 

“...Miss Ahn said that we need references and should do field research. Speak to realtors. Ask people who have a similar lifestyle and budget.”

The look that comes over the other boys face is one of unequivocal revulsion. Peter can relate. The thought of having to spend more time with this guy makes his stomach turn.

“Well, Parker, any bright ideas who we can ask?”

The hinges of the front door squeaks before Peter can respond.

Moments after, Aunt May walks into the living room, placing her bag down on the dining table. She looks between the two boys curiously.

“Hey, Pete,” she comes to his side to squeezes his shoulder. “Who do we have here?”

Tony rushes over with his hand outstretched, an eager grin on his face. 

“Tony Stark, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, ah, okay, well,” May laughs as he enthusiastically shakes her hand. Her eyes are soft as Tony smiles brightly at her. “Nice to meet you too, Tony. I’m May, Peter’s aunt. Are you... friends with Peter?”

Peter snorts. 

“Definitely not. We just have an assignment --”

“-- Great friends, actually,” Tony talks over him, taking a seat beside Peter on the sofa. To Peter’s utter disgust, the other boy puts an arm around his shoulders, squeezing his bicep encouragingly. “Aren’t we, Pete? Hmm? Best buds. We go way back.”

Peter freezes, feeling the line of heat from Tony’s against his side, the weight of his arm on his body. 

Eyes widening, he feels his skin crawl. 

“That’s sweet,” May smiles, putting her hair up in a loose, messy bun. “Well, I don’t know about you boys, but I’m starving. I’m ordering pizza, Friday special. You should stay for dinner, Tony.”

Tony places his free hand on his chest.

“I would be honoured.”

May looks at Tony strangely before retreating to the kitchen to retrieve the menus.

As soon as she’s out of sight Tony takes his arm off Peter and quickly shifts away from him like he’s been burned. 

“Dude,” Peter whispers, bewildered. “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Tony whispers, shuddering as his face scrunches up in disgust. “I’m going to have to pour scalding hot water on all the places your skin just touched me. Ugh, I feel like I just touched toe fungus.”

Peter slaps his arm.

“What is wrong with you?”

Tony backhands Peter’s arm in retaliation and then shudders all over again.

“Your aunt is crazy hot, okay, I couldn’t help myself. It was an instinctual reaction. Is she taken? C’mon. Vindicate me.” 

“I’ll eviscerate you --”

“-- I mean, clearly she married into the family, she doesn’t share your unfortunate phenotype, but I didn’t see a ring on her finger. So? Yes or no?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Peter hisses as his aunt comes back in. “She’s not available to you. Not now, not ever.”

“But she is available?”

“Don’t even, Stark. You’re like, sixteen. Don’t you have any shame?”

Tony smiles, as she nears. “Not a shred.”

“So,” May waves a menu at them. “You boys happy with pepperoni?”

Closing his eyes, Peter wishes for death.

As fate would have it, he gets pepperoni instead.

-----

If you had ever told Peter that he would be sitting down for dinner with his Aunt and a dirt-streaked Tony Stark, he would have laughed.

And if Peter were outside himself he would probably find the sharing of pizza and soda over their plastic, chequered table-cloth comical -- in that uncanny, Dogs Playing Poker kind of way. But in reality there was nothing funny about the discomfort of having Tony in his personal space or the heavy, suffocating tension that has removed the air from the room. 

The entire time Tony has been hamming it up, cracking jokes with his aunt, complimenting her on the decor, asking what she does for work. Peter doesn’t know if he’s being sweet to May for the purpose of buttering her up, or, given the wealth of his family in contrast to the Parkers, if he’s being cruelly facetious. 

Nonetheless, Peter has felt on edge. It’s disconcerting, is what it is. Every single movement Tony makes, every time he opens his mouth -- frequently to sweet-talk his aunt -- has Peter’s anxiety standing at attention, hyperaware of everything the other boy does.

He’s beginning to feel like a meerkat whose den has been invaded by a lion.

Through the course of a single meal Peter’s attention moves from the sky to the floor. There is no grace or higher power that is coming to save him from this profound, unusual torture. 

So he focuses his hopes to the south, seeing through their tiny, cramped, dinner table, past bargaining. He’s willing to trade his soul to end it all. Surely some wayward being from hell would come to his rescue. 

May has Peter’s chin between her fingers. She turns it this way and that, inspecting his injuries.

“What happened this time, bubby?” She frowns, brow furrowing. “You look like you got beat up.”

Peter, very aware of Tony’s amused gaze on them, gently pulls away from her grasp. He smiles placatingly and picks at his pizza slice. God he’s never going to live this down.

“Training accident. It’s okay, I feel fine. ‘Tis but a scratch,” he brings himself to joke.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

She leans in to kiss his cheek, carefully avoiding the fresh scabs and injured flesh. “God, you bruise like a peach. Be careful, baby, you’re our money maker,” she laughs. “What about you Tony, do you play football?”

Tony, who is mid way through chewing on a mouthful of pizza, momentarily chokes, beating his chest with his fist to swallow down the obstruction.

“Uh, no,” Tony gulps, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Nope. No recreational sports for me. Can’t.” He gestures to his chest and sighs heavily. “Asthma.”

Peter sips his coke and rolls his eyes, knowing full well there’s a half-empty pack of Marlboro Light’s in the pocket of Tony’s jeans. Asthma. What a schmuck.

“That’s a shame. Do you boys have classes together?”

Unfortunately, Peter thinks.

The other boy seems to have the same thought, as he glares at Peter from over the table. When he picks up his can of coke, he gives Peter the finger outside of May’s eye-line.

“That’s why Tony’s here,” Peter twists his napkin in his grip. “We have an econ assignment together on microeconomics. Teach says Tony’s destined to be on welfare.”

Tony leans in, chin rested on his hand. He addresses May but his stare, dark and odious, rests on Peter.

“Not accurate. Stay-at-home parent, actually. One might say that is the most important job of all. Wouldn’t you agree, May?”

She raises her Coke.

“Hear, hear.”

Tony grins roguishly, the same grin he gave the girls at the lockers earlier. “Petey here was just saying that we should ask you about your experience running a household on a single salary. We’d love to have you as a reference.”

“Was I saying that?” Peter narrows his eyes. “I can’t remember.”

Tony kicks him under the table. The hit lands right in his knee cap.

Wincing, Peter kicks back, satisfied when the other boy bites his lip to hold back a pained groan.

“Yeah, well, not surprising,” Tony says airily, waving his hand. “Hit your head today, didn’t you? Maybe you should get all that damage looked into.”

The napkin rips in Peter’s grasp.

“Maybe you should go f--”

“I’d be more than happy to help with your assignment, boys,” May cuts in.

Whatever snide reply he has in his mouth instantly wilts when he looks over to his Aunt. She looks...pleased. Delighted, almost. Her eyes under the dull, yellow kitchen light seem to get warmer, and her smile is small but softens around the edges.

Instantly, Peter feels like the worst person in the world. Of course May would be the best person to ask. She does so much for him, the least he can do is set his pride aside for one moment to make her feel good about how hard she works for their life.

He reaches over to squeeze her hand, smiling as gratitude swells unexpectedly in his chest.

“Thanks, May. That would be great.”

Across the table, a smug Tony looks like the cat who got the cream. 

Without warning, Peter’s chest goes hot with contempt, his fingernails dig into his palm. He’s not sure he’s ever met anyone he couldn’t like, until now.

I hate you, Peter mouths while May busies herself with rounding up the pizza boxes.

Kiss my ass, Tony mouths back. 

In an instant his expression flips from contemptuous to angelic when he stands and offers to help May clean up.

Peter stands too, sparing a disdainful glance to the floor. Turns out not even the devil was willing to give him a hand.

Natasha was right. It’s going to end in murder.

---

Peter walks Tony to the door after dinner to say goodbye to his ‘friend’. Following him into the hall, Peter closes the door behind them.

“What do you want, Parker?” Tony asks wearily, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket. “I’m trying to make a getaway here.”

Peter crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t do that with my aunt. I’m not joking, asshole. It’s not cool.”

“Relax, princess,” Tony rolls his eyes, fishing for his lighter in his backpack. “I’m not actually interested. Just trying to get under your skin. Worked, see? You’re easy like that. Hey, why do you live with your aunt anyways?”

“None of your business,” he frowns as Tony holds one hand up in surrender and lights his cigarette with the other. “Dude, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Can’t, shouldn’t, gonna. By the way, you’ve got sauce on your chin, it’s very distracting.”

Peter wipes at it without thinking. When he pulls it away there is indeed a smear of red sauce on his hand.

Tony walks backwards down the hall and exhales a cloud of smoke, waving in a sardonic imitation of a farewell.

“See you Monday, bubby.”

Peter doesn’t bother with a response, too tired from the week, exhausted by this whole darn day, and it’s not like the other boy cares what he has to say anyway. He takes a moment to swallow his anger before he heads back inside, sighing. 

Well, at least he has an entire weekend free of Stark to look forward to.

May looks at him curiously when he reemerges, but says nothing. He considers for a moment about heading to his bedroom and playing a video game to disassociate - but then, suddenly, remembers her smile earlier, and how alone she looks now. A surge of affection hits him right beneath his breastbone.

He checks his watch and then catches her eye.  Tilting his head towards the living room, he says, “Hey. You wanna eat some ice cream and watch some Colbert before bed?”

She smiles just like she did earlier and kisses his cheek. “Sounds nice, Pete.”

Maybe the whole day wasn’t lost.

As May heads to the sofa and switches the TV on, Peter catches sight of the Magic 8-Ball from the corner of his eye. He walks over and gives it a shake.

Outlook good.

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @muse-of-gods

[girlgirlgirlnormal]

Niragi x OC x Last Boss (Part 3)

Sooo, I wrote a third part! Noone asked for it, but I think I´m going to write more parts, just because I enjoy writing these characters and am having a writers block on my other project :/ And maybe I should proofread and edit the other two parts, but here you go!

But hey! This part is not smut but an actual game! 

I hope you enjoy it! 

part one - part two

“What the fuck where you doing?”, Hina was ripped out of her thoughts as Kuina approached her, whisper-shouting, “What happened?”

“I got laid”, Hina informed her friend, she had woken up sandwiched between Samura and Niragi. At first, she thought that she should be waiting for them to wake up, but it was still dark and they looked both so peaceful. If Hina was being honest, her body was still hurting. A quick look in the mirror had confirmed all the bruises and hickeys she had been feeling, all over her throat, chest, and thighs. Her bikini top only covered the most of her breasts, everything else was exposed. She had stolen a pair of shorts from the drawer, that at least covert the bruises on her butt and the hickeys on her upper inner thigh. She hoped they weren’t going to be too mad about her sneaking away.

“What?”, Kuina exclaimed.

Her eyes widened, as she saw the bruises on Hinas body, “You call that getting laid? You look like you survived your own death.”

“I had worse nights and I´m not even lying about that”, Hina smiled at the pretty girl next to her, “My last boyfriend”, she formed quotation marks with her fingers, as she said boyfriend, “used to do way worse and I still had to dance every night.”

Kuina gave her a sympathetic smile, “Look, I´m sorry about that, but I don’t believe that putting yourself in a situation in which you could easily get killed is going to help with your trauma.”

Hina rolled her eyes, “I did cum twice”, she informed Kuina grinning.

Loudly exhaling through her nose, Kuina shook her head. She was about to say something, but she stopped, grabbing Hinas hand and staring at something behind her. Mustering up a smile Hina turned, finding Niragi and Last Boss approaching them with fast steps.

“Good morning”, she greeted, as soon as the men were in a hearing distance.

Niragi was the first to reach her, one of his hands forcefully grabbing her hair, while the other held his sniper rifle, “Why did you leave?”, he asked angered.

Hina took a deep breath. That was the kind of behavior her old boyfriend had portrayed daily. At least she knew how to handle it.

“I needed to get something to eat”, she gestured towards the bar, her plate was still sitting there, only half eaten, “I didn’t want to wake you. You were both seeping so peacefully.”

“You ran away from us”, Niragi said, Last Boss standing behind him, with his arms crossed.

“I just went to get breakfast”, she said, “Why would I leave you?”

“She deserves a bit of trust after she’s been such a good girl last night”, Samura commented, still not raising a finger to help her.  

“I hope its ok that I borrowed some shorts”, Hina said, still not acknowledging her hurting scalp, “You kinda destroyed my bikini panties.”

“They look great on you”, Samura informed her, finally putting a hand on Niragis shoulder, “Come on. She´s just eating.”

Niragi looked her up and down. His gaze lingering over all the bruises and hickeys they had caused. His fingers unwinded from her hair and glided over her throat, amazed by how pretty the purple spots looked on her.

“I’m yours, remember?”, Hina asked smiling, “I won’t just leave.”

“We were wondering when your visa is going to run out”, Last Boss asked, stepping beside Niragi, “We are going to the game tonight. We want you to come with us.”

“My visa ends in two days”, Hina answered, “but it wouldn’t hurt to renew it a couple of days earlier.”

It would hurt. Walking hurt and she couldn’t even sit. Her ass and clit were still throbbing from being abused the night before.

“Good.”, Niragi said, “We’ll see you in the evening.”

With that they left as fast as they had approached.

“Why would you go to a game with them?”, Kuina asked, “What will you do if they sacrifice you?”

“Probably die”, Hina answered, sighing as she saw Kuinas frown, “If they can help me to survive here, I’ll take it. If I die, I die. There is really not much to do about it.”

“Why are you so indifferent about dying?”

“I don’t want to play games forever. I don’t really want to go back to the real world either. I have nothing there.”

She was lying. She had someone. Someone she would never see again. Someone she wasn’t able to have even back in the real world. She would not be able to have him once she got back. Her boyfriend would never allow it.

Hina spent the rest of the day in her room, trying to cool her core to ease the pain and waiting for the gong. The gong always announced that it was time to get ready for the next game. She hoped that it was not a physical game. She didn’t know if she would be able to fight or even run.

“Don’t be stupid”, she whispered to herself, “If you can dance on the pole after he had his way with you, you can run and you can fight.”

They had been nicer to her than he had been. Even the fact that Niragi choked until she had seen black spots dancing in her vision didn’t stop that from being true. He had been so much worse, and nobody had been able to protect her.

Sighing she made her way to the lobby. It was getting dark, it couldn’t take much longer for the gong to go off. Many people seemed to think the same way. The lobby was already fairly crowded as Hina approached. She couldn’t help but notice the lingering gaze of a couple of people, examining her bruises and hickeys. She held her head high. The sports shoes she was wearing were comfortable, but she couldn’t help thinking her dancer shoes would be so much more appropriate right now. She was used to strutting with platform heels, not giving a fuck about what other people thought about her or her profession or all the bruises she had all over her body. She smiled as she saw Samura and Niragi standing in the back of the lobby, talking to some other militants and walked over to them. They stopped talking and watched her move towards them.

“Good evening”, she greeted them, still smiling.

“Hey”, Niragi greeted back.

Last Boss just smiled.

They didn’t start a conversation. Hina did not know what to talk about, with all the other militants around them and the men did not look like they were interested in talking to her anyway. Niragi was back to talking to the others while Samura was still watching her. She looked up at him, still smiling. His tattoos looked nice. She wanted to trace them with her fingers, but she didn’t dare.

“You’re still wearing my shorts”, he said, “Why? You’ve been to your room.”

“I like them”, Hina informed Samura, “They´re comfortable and they are yours.”

“I thought the whole girl steals her boyfriend’s clothes was only a movie trope”, he deadpanned.

Boyfriend? Did he assume they were in a relationship? Did he want that?

Before she could say anything else Hatter was on the balcony, giving a speech about the games and how they all were comrades. Hina didn’t listen. Part of her wanted it to be true. She wanted to be able to go back to the real world. She didn’t want to play games to survive.

She was whisked away to a car with the militants and off to the game before she knew it.

They reached the venue, an old warehouse, in short time and went in. The phones were laid out in a small room in the entrance. Hina couldn’t help but notice how hot it was in there. For once she was happy that she was only wearing a bikini top.

She picked up a phone and let herself be squished between Niragi and Last Boss as the registration proceeded. There were 4 other people as the voice announced that registration was closed.

“Game code: 8 of spades. Game: The floor is lava. Game clear is achieved then players cross the warehouse and enter the safe zone. Time: 15 Minutes”

After the announcement the door behind them opened, unveiling a large warehouse. The floor was literally lava. Objects were floating in the lava, monkey bars and ropes were dangling from the ceiling. A big digital clock was counting back from 15 minutes. Hina sighed, stretching her legs.

So much for protecting me, she mumbled and watched as Niragi attached his sniper rifle to a harness and Last Boss examined the lava.

She watched as turned to one of the women that were not part of the militants and shoved her to the edge.

“What are you doing?”, the woman cried out, “Stop!”

“We need to find out if this is really lava”, Samura only explained, holding the poor women by her hair and shoving face to the edge.

“It cant be lava”, said Hina, all the attention was on her now, “I don’t think that the stuff could float in lava, it would be too hot. It still seems to be pretty hot and I would not recommend touching it.”

It was a thick blubbering substance and steam was rising. If everything she had seen on nationaly geographic was right lava looked different.

“Come on”, she said smiling, “we don’t have much time.”

With that she walked over to the far right of the room and jumped on the table that was floating there. This seemed like a decent starting point. Many other objects were floating nearby and some monkeybars were hanging nearby. Standing on the desk she assessed her next move. The chair, which was placed about a meter from the desk was the nearest object, but it didn’t had enough surface area to land safely. She chose to jump a little bit further and landed on a piece of driftwood. From where she was standing the best jump she could make was to a globe. She looked back. Samura had let go of the woman and was following her. Niragi was standing on something that looked like a sink. She was about to make the jump as a piercing scream echoed through the warehouse. She turned back, the militants all seemed fine, someone was struggling in the lava. The struggle didn’t last long. After mere seconds the person disappeared.

“Maybe acid?”, Hina asked, turning back to Samura.

“You didn’t let me check”, he just said, shrugging.

Hina leapt on the globe, landing on her stomach, barely able to lift her legs enough to not touch the lava. She could hear Samura jumping on the driftwood behind her as she started to lift herself of, trying to stand up, to be able to jump to the monkeybars. The monkeybars were leading straight to a spinning bed in the middle of the room.

“Time remaining: 10 Minutes”, the computer voice announced.

Hina had finally managed to stand up. The globe was slippery, but it wasn’t a far jump to the monkeybars. Once again she was happy about the muscles she had gained while dancing. She managed to grip the first bar. It was swinging back and forth violently, as she realized that the next bar was too far to just grab. She had to built momentum. She leapt, grabbing the second bars.

She heard a loud splash and someone else was screaming. A shudder ran over her back.

“Come on princess”, Niragi was already on the bed.

When did he get there? Taking a deep breath she leapt to the next bar. Only three more there left and she could jump to the bed.

Another scream. She couldn’t look back, but it sounded like a man. Fueled with adrenaline she made the last leaps. She was hanging on the last monkeybar as she felt it swing harder.

“Jump, Niragi will catch you”, Samura said, she could hear him leaping from one bar to the next, making it swing harder.

Hina nodded and using the swing she let go then she was nearest to the bed. Niragi did catch her.

“Nice”, he said, dragging her to the side so last boss had a place to land.

“Its easiest if we go that way”, he explained, after Samura joined them on the bed, pointing to his right, “the objects are smaller but the distance between them is shorter.”

Hina and Samura nodded. Niragi made the first jump. He made it look so easy as he made the second jump and landed effortlessly on his feed on a small barstool. After the bed had spun around two times Samura gave Hina a small nudge, “You first”, he said.

Hina nodded and made the jump, landing on her butt.

“Ouch”, she mumbled, standing up and making the next jump to the barstool that Niragi had already vacated.

Another scream echoed through the warehouse. Hina looked around. Only one of the other militants was left and the girl that Last Boss had threatened to push into the lava was a couple of meters behind them, sitting on top of a piece of driftwood.

She made the next jump. Only a couple more jumps were left.

“3 Minutes left”, the computer voice announced.

“Fuck”, mumbled Niragi, “Come on, princess.”

She jumped. Samura was close on her heels. She jumped again. And again. Niragi reached the other edge and started looking for the door to the safe room.

“2 Minutes left”

“Found it”, Niragi announced, opening a door. He left it wide open and went back to the edge, reaching for Hina, “Come on.”

Two jumps were left, but one of them was another globe, much smaller than the one she had jumped on before.

“You can do it”, Samura said behind her.

Mustering up her courage she made the jump, landing on her stomach. It took some effort to stand up, but the next platform, another sink, was close, so she made the jump. She turned back and watched Samura make the jump to the globe, somehow landing on his feed.

“30 seconds left”

“Come on!”, Niragi screamed, extending his hand to her.

She made the last jump and found herself in Niragis arms. Not even two seconds later they were joined by Samura on the edge.

“Go”, he said, shoving Hina to the open door.

Just as the voice started to count down from 10 Samura was the last of the trio entering the room. He wanted to close the door, but Hina stopped him. She wanted to help the others, but they were too far away.

“3”, counted the voice.

Sighing she stepped to the side, letting Samura close the door.

“Game cleared.”, the voice announced.

She felt herself being squished by two bodies, as Samura and Niragi hugged her while on the other side of the door pained screams erupted. They didn’t scream long.

Their phones beeped, showing that they had earned 8 additional days to their visa.

“Let’s go home”, Niragi said, opening the door on the other side of the room.

Sighing she followed the men out. The cool night air felt nice after the hellish heat inside.

“You were good”, Samura commented as they were seating in the car.

They had lost everyone else in the game. She was wondering why they were not upset over the deaths of their militant friends, but she guessed that it would make sense. She had known that they didn’t really have many friends in the beach.

“Theres an executive meeting”, Niragi informed her, as they reached the beach, “Go to Samuras room, we’ll come as soon as possible.”

Hina nodded and watched them walk away.

“How was the game?”, asked Kuina, who had approached her from behind.

“They did not sacrifice me to find out if the floor was really lava.”, Hina deadpanned, “What were you up to?”

“Just hanging out with Chishiya”, Kuina answered, “Did you just say the floor was lava?”

[fkingsteverogers]

Tell Me We’ll Be Just Fine

A/N: A couple points: 1) I made a new blog for these writings to make them easier to find 2) I have a tag list! lmk if you want to be added to it 3) For my non US babes and others, your third amendment rights say you can’t be forced to house soldiers. Long Story Short 

Contains TFATWS Episode 5 spoilers

                                                        ****

With John Walker being Honorably Discharged after an International Incident, you’re stuck under house arrest.  (The United States Government would tell you house arrest is too strong of a word, it’s simply Strongly Advised you stay in your apartment.) You want to scream from the rooftops that you had nothing to do with him, that it was all an act, but you’re being Strongly Advised, so that’s not an option. You hope, wherever he is, Bucky is having a better time than you are. 

Five Days; Eastern Europe:

Bucky is not having a good time. They’re in a country where everyone wants them dead, holed up in a shitty motel and all he can think of is the absolutely devastated look on your face when he walked out the door. It makes him brood. 

“You have to talk about her sometime.” 

“Who?” 

“Whoever makes you frown like that.” 

“‘M not frowning. What do you know about it anyway? You’re single.” So maybe he was being an ass about it. You were so far away, probably cuddled up with John or Steve, and he was here, sitting in a motel room with Sam. John Walker was probably feeling you up right now, running his hand over those beautiful thighs of yours as you kissed him, making soft little noises--he clenches his fist so hard he breaks the bowl he’d been holding, splattering rice and beans all over the floor cracked tile floor. 

“Yo, man, what the fuck?!” 

Day One; New York City: 

Steve’s allowed to visit, because of course he is. He flashes some badge and the guards (who are Strongly Advising you), stand down. “Why are you here, Stevie?” And you hate that you still call him Stevie. Stevie is what you called him on the quiet nights when you two were alone and he was still yours. Steve gives you his sad smile and you want to fall into his arms, to sob into his chest and tell him how you fucked it all up. You don’t. 

“Just go, Stevie.” 

Four Days; Eastern Europe: 

Sam goes to do some surveillance, announcing that he “couldn’t deal with this shit,” leaving Bucky alone in the shitty room they were sharing. Before he’d been deployed, he would’ve spent an afternoon alone in a hotel curled up with a pretty girl or a handsome boy. During the war, he’d spend a quiet day catching up on some sleep or rereading a well loved copy of The Hobbit. During his Hydra days (which he hated thinking about but also couldn’t stop thinking about), there really weren’t days off. There were days where he killed and days where he didn’t. Since then, he’d spent most of his days off trying to remember how to be a human. 

You had made those days feel like living again. And now you were John’s girl, dressed all pretty up for him and everything. Bucky’d been fucking stupid to think you’d want someone like him, someone damaged, someone with blood on his hands. You were good and soft and pretty. You spoke four languages and had probably read every book ever written. 

You’d been good enough for Steve. 

He breaks another bowl and has to lay down after.

Day Three; New York City: 

You glare down the solider that’s sitting in your kitchen, eating a sandwich. “This is violating my Third Amendment Rights, you know.” 

The smug bastard grins and keeps eating his sandwich. 

Two Days; Louisiana: 

“That shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, I felt like I had nothing left.” 

The mission had gone down as well as any of their missions go, they’d been shot at, gotten out by the skin of their teeth. Sam left to go back home as soon as he could, Bucky followed. Where else did he have to go?

“You have her.” 

He didn’t, not really. 

“I don’t want to talk about her, Sam.” Bucky tosses the shield, scowling deeply. 

Sam sighs, catching the shield. He turned to face his friend, were they friends?, and looked him up and down. “Yeah, you do.” So maybe Bucky does want to talk about you, about how betrayed he feels by you choosing Walker over him. The government hadn’t been powerful enough to stop some gossip magazine from publishing a spread of you and Walker, you in a little red sundress that makes you look incredible and his hand on your thigh. There’s some bullshit story about how you met and had been so enamored with him you’d asked him for coffee on the spot.

 It makes Bucky physically sick with rage. 

Day Four; New York City: 

After four days of being Strongly Advised, you’re ready to start pulling out your hair. The news is nonstop coverage of what happened to John Walker, the green beret who had gone crazy and killed a man in a moment of grief induced rage. And to top it all off, People released a spread that makes you want to scream. The whole shoot hadn’t been your idea, some government publicist had insisted it was necessary to sell the story. In reality, it’d been five hours with John’s hands all over you, grinning like the cat that got the cream. During a break, he’d asked you about Steve, his tone suggesting something that was none of his business. 

“You don’t get to talk about Steve.” John had smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. It clearly annoyed him, someone thinking he wasn’t good enough for something. “What about your wife, John?” A look of surprise crosses his face but it’s gone in a moment, the mask he wears to keep people out back in place. 

“Olivia isn’t part of the deal. I thought we could be friends,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty, “but clearly you’re not interested in that, clearly you’re interested in--” 

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, John.” Your voice is low, betraying the landmine he’s almost stepped on. Given the chance, you’d stab John Walker in his pretty face. Decades in prison means nothing when the love of your life abandoned you and the man you thought you could count on ran out. (So maybe you were thinking about Bucky, it doesn’t actually matter.)

Bucky had been a solid presence in a sea of uncertainty. He’d made you feel safe and okay. After Steve’s departure and the death of Tony, the only member of your family left, solid and safety had been in short supply. He’d showed up, ate his cold beans in silence in the kitchen, and hadn’t left. He’d made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in months. You’d developed a routine, Bucky would wake up before you and boil water for tea, you’d stumble out and cook something to serve as breakfast, and you’d both go about your days. In the evenings, you’d come together, talk about the stupid shit that had happened during the day, watch a movie on Friday nights, and go to bed. It was nice to have a routine, something and someone you could depend on. 

The nights had been quiet since he left. 

Twelve Hours; New York City: 

Bucky’s plane lands and he breathes a sigh of relief. 

It’s raining when he steps out of the airport, a down pour by anyone’s standards. Fine by him, less people to avoid. He manages to make it to the little coffee shop outside your apartment without getting too soaked. Going up there wasn’t an option, not when you were probably angry with him for running out. So he sits, drinks endless cups of coffee and watches. 

“She takes it two creams, no sugar, if you want to bring it up to her.” Bucky turns and finds himself face to face with Steve. His friend looks old, but happy, at peace even. There’s so much he wants to say, he wants to ask Steve why he left, what he thought about Walker. He wants to punch him or throttle him or hug him. Bucky wants a long fucking hug. 

“I don’t think she wants to see me, punk.” Steve sits, shaking his head. 

“I didn’t think she wanted to see me, either. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her..” 

Before Bucky can reply, before he can really process what Steve is saying, he gets a text from Sam and he’s off to save the world again.

Day Five; New York City: 

Because the universe hates you, you can’t even use your phone to entertain yourself. Someone leaked your personal number and it hadn’t stopped ringing since. And, since the internet has no nuance, they’re mostly death threats. You’re reading a book when the guards who are Strongly Advising you abandon their posts. There’s something going on, something that no one bothers to inform you about. 

You go back to reading your book. Hopefully Bucky’s not being thrown through a wall. 

Thirty Minutes; New York City: 

Bucky gets thrown through a wall. 

It fucking hurts and he’s dizzy after. Like can’t-walk-straight-am-I-actually-drunk-dizzy. Sam, the useless bastard, loads him into a taxi, tells him he’ll be fine, and gives the driver your address. Bucky’s dimly aware of this fact, aware of the fact that this poor man is driving him, a bleeding super solider, to the one place he wanted to be but wasn’t welcome. 

Two Minutes; New York City: 

The guards aren’t back by the time the downstairs buzzer starts ringing incessantly. You’re in the middle of your book, right at the moment where the head-strong damsel and the Lord she hated are about to kiss. You try to ignore it, With a groan, you stomp down to the doors. 

Standing there, half supported by Vasily, the Russian cabbie (who is definitely into some shady business), is Bucky. 

Now; New York City: 

You thank Vasily, telling him you’ll pay for the cab when you see him on Friday for Shabbat, and take the bleeding Bucky into your arms. Bucky mumbles something, clearly speaking Russian but too lowly for you to actually understand. Vasily glares at him, muttering curses as he stalks away. 

Dragging Bucky up to your sixth floor apartment means sharing a run in with Daisy Mae, your elderly neighbor who’s 90% blind and enjoys loitering in the elevator. She seems to take offense to Bucky mumbling Russian children’s songs to himself. 

“Speak English dear, not Communism. We’re in the United States.” 

“Mind the business that pays you, Daisy Mae.”

She hmphs, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky, for his part, gives a rousing performance of the Russian alphabet. Finally, you get Bucky into your apartment and unceremoniously drop him on your couch. 

It’s not long before he falls asleep, leaving you to stare at him for hours, wondering just what he’s going to say when he wakes up. 

When he does wake up, it’s to the scent of your soap, sweet watermelon that always leaves an aching in the pit of his stomach. Waking up on your couch, smelling your soap, and listening to you cook feels like a dream. How many times had he thought about this exact moment while he was with Sam? Soon enough you’d turn the corner from the kitchenette and smile at him, that beautiful smile that never failed to make him feel a little dizzy. 

And then he’d wake up in a shitty hotel room, listening to Sam take a shit through the paper thin walls. 

He waits, but when you appear, you’re frowning anxiously. And God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts that expose your long legs to his greedy eyes. Your hair is pushed back off your face, exposing the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen. 

Steve was a lucky man, to be able to love you.  Maybe one day he’ll find a woman like you to love, if he’s lucky. Has he ever been lucky?

Bucky looks confused when you appear holding tea. “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything back, just frowns back. Your mind races, realizing he probably doesn’t want to see you, that he was dropped off here by some well meaning friend, and he was going to get up and walk out the door again. 

“At least let me clean you up before you go.” Bucky nods wordlessly, looking like he’s still a little stunned. He takes a seat at the kitchen table as you pull down the first aid kit you’d put together when Steve was still here. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still oozing a little blood. It’s in such a place you have to situate yourself between his legs in order to get to it. 

It’s quiet while you work, Bucky’s never been a man of many words and now he’s probably trying to figure out how to tell you you’re never going to see him again. As soon as he’s cleaned up well enough that you’re satisfied he won’t die sitting at your kitchen table, you step away to admire your handy work. Bucky’s left hand, his metal hand, catches your wrist and pulls you back to him. It holds you there while his right hand comes up to cup your face, running a thumb over your cheekbone. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

He’s not sure what possesses him when he pulls you back into him. All he knows is if he doesn’t get you close, if he doesn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are, he won’t be able to breathe. You make a little noise of exasperation, your gorgeous lips parting. “I mean it.” “Bucky…” You try to pull away but he holds you there, studying every inch of your face and committing it to memory. There’s an electricity between the two of you, it feels like the air is charged enough to light that stupid snail lamp you’d bought from Arrow or whatever that store you loved was called. “Bucky…” You repeat, your voice softer, in a tone he can’t quite describe

Before either of you can move or say anything else, the door swings open to reveal Sam and Torres, flanked by three soldiers. None of them take notice of what feels like a very compromising position. 

“Oh good, you’re here, Sargent Barnes. You're all being moved to a safe house. Pack enough for an indeterminate amount of time.”