#everyone else there is the best of bloody friends and I’m just there talking to one friend who I don’t even think is my friend

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[0mg-bird]

Sunrise~ Tyler Owens x Fem! Reader

Summary: The curious case of the tornado wranglers, down to earth, girlfriend.

A/n: I just watched Twisters and am in love. Right now Sunrise by Ryan Bingham is my favorite song so here’s a little one shot inspired by it.

Warnings: Language, implied smut

Everyone’s called you crazy ever since you were born. The people in your small Texas town said you were the wild child, your parents had four boys and when their baby girl came around, she had a mean streak just like her brothers. Ten years old and standing in an empty corn field, looking at the thunder heads forming above you, hot and muggy air gusting against your skin, the crack of thunder didn’t scare you, you were utterly curious and amazed. You’ve known storms since you were a babe, you remember the shrill sound of the sirens going off and your mama screaming for you to come inside. Your family was in a panic, you remember your daddy letting the horses loose and the way the cattle ran. That funnel touched down and prayers were prayed, you watched from the bathroom window despite the way your mama dragged you away.

It was beautiful, so utterly terrifying in the distance, a force of straight power.

You were hooked.

Telling your parents you were going to the University of Arkansas to study meteorology was a good idea in theory until they told you becoming a weather girl was a sweet job.

You told them about storm chasing and your mama almost had a stroke.

But you’ve worried everyone your whole life, only you would choose something so crazy.

You met Tyler your sophomore year when you had the same class, your energetic personality hid the fact you were a nerdy kind of cowgirl. The two of you quickly became best friends, despite his cocky personality. You formed a dare devil connection, you were the call he made when he got a lead on something.

Graduation came and you said you were going back home, he hated that idea.

“Come with me.” He said.

“Where?”

“Anywhere, everywhere.”

It’s hard to say no to a man with puppy dog eyes.

Somewhere between gathering a crew up from all over the boons and adopting a one eyed dog you found stranded after a storm in Little Rock, the two of you fell so deep for each other, it hit harder than any storm you experienced.

Here you are now in Oklahoma, cutting through fields in Tyler’s red Ram truck. “Lilly, talk to me.” You call over the radio system on the dash, looking for what data the girl in the vehicle following has. In the backseat, Boone, the right hand man, is recording like always, talking to the followers.

“Welcome back guys, we’re currently back at it again in the Oklahoma plains. This beauty we’re going into is gaining speed, turning into something good. What are we thinking, Tex?”

You look to the camera and smile. “You know, I’d like to call this an easy F2 but the strong updraft we’re getting here could push this baby into the F3 category.”

Also from the back seat, Ben, the London journalist asks to explain what you just said.

The rain cap starts and muddies the earth, the truck drifts as Tyler maneuvers it greatly. You pull your sunglasses off and lean forward to get a better look at what you’re driving into.

“What are you thinking, darlin’?” Tyler asks, seeing the way you evaluate the area.

“Take a left, it ain’t gonna hit the tree line, see the way the wind shifted?” You instruct.

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, giving you one of his perfect grins before making a sharp left.

Ben makes a sort of strangled cry of fear as he gets tossed around in the back. You, completely nonchalant, chewing on a Red Vine, turn to look at the Brit.

“Ben, baby, how you feeling back there?” You ask, pointing something else out to Tyler.

“Oh I’m bloody great.” He lies before getting knocked into the door again. You laugh. “Man, I love this guy.” You declare, finding him so amusing. “Let’s keep him, Ty.”

He rolls his eyes at you, making you scoff. You look at the dog in your lap who’s wearing a tiny helmet with the words ‘Killa’ written across the front. “What you think, Rocky? You wanna keep Ben?”

The dog lays his head down and places his paw over his small snout.

“Rude. Ty, Rock used to agree to everything I say, now you’ve done gone and brain washed him. Poor fella.” You pout before yelping in surprise at the way Tyler drifts into a spot. He grips the radio, calling for the convoy to assume their positions.

“Sorry, I’m no expert but it looks like the twister is going to roll right over us.” Ben says as everyone buckles their harnesses.

“You’re exactly right Benny boy.” You say, opening the center console and placing Rocky inside his designated safety seat. “We need to be in its path so the data bugs we’ll launch have enough wind speed to reach the height needed. Put your harness on and you’ll be about as secure as a pistol in a PTA Mama’s purse.”

Ben looks to Boone in question. Boone just shrugs. “At some point you get used to all the odd shit she says.”

Tyler cranks the E brake, then looks at you with a smirk. “You wanna touch my joystick?” He ask, motioning to the control stick that has the button to activate the drills that will anchor the truck into the ground.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” You scrunch your nose, pushing the button.

The truck is secured, you’re all buckled in tight, now you have to focus on when it’s the perfect time to launch the processors. Things are blowing against the windows, Tyler’s laughing and Boone is howling into the camera, showing the viewers what they see.

“Tell me when.” Tyler says, and as thick water drops pummel the windshield, you stay silent, waiting…watching.

“Now!” You shout and he presses the button that activates the hydraulic opening lid to the tub in the truck bed, the small bug sensors fly out and are carried up into the funnel that is passing over you.

“Breaker breaker, what are we seeing?” You call into the radio, Dexter in the caravan off in the clearing responds. “We got eyes, Tex. Data is coming in clear.”

You shoot your arms up in victory, this was the first time you were launching the 2.0 sensors. “There we go!” You look directly into the camera Boone is pointing at you. “You see that kids? I still got it.”

You watch the storm pass you, the funnel goes into the distance and the winds calm a bit as you unbuckle your harness. You’re pulling the pup from its safety and throwing open the door, running to the spot it just was.

“Whoo!” You hear Tyler whoop, and you throw that snapback hat of his you were wearing, adrenaline pumping through you. He sweeps you into his large arms, twirling you around. “Did you see that, baby? God, that was beautiful.” He laughs and you pull on the brim of his cowboy hat. “I sure did, let’s go get those bugs before we lose their signals, cowboy.”

Later as you set up camp in some cheap motel, Ben is approaching Lilly and Boone with questions.

“I need a story about the girl, uh Tex? Does she have a name?” He settles into one of the fold out chairs and motions to you sitting on the roof of the truck, looking up at the stars and listening to the music playing on the radio.

Lilly chuckles and then makes an adjustment to her drone. “She does, but she’d kill you if she found out you was using her government name in your fancy paper.”

Ben finds that interesting, he writes a few notes about a very mysterious persona you have. “How long has she been in this business? I tried to ask her some questions but she shushed me and told me she was ‘meditating to a Childers song’ and it was very important that she did this.”

Boone shakes his head. “She says confusing stuff to make people go away when she wants her peace.” He explains. “Tex is the original, her and T were the ones to assemble the squad of us, they taught me everything I know. She might be crazier than he is if I’m bein’ honest, always pushing the limits but every move she makes is calculated.”

Lilly agrees. “She’s my best friend, but has always been a curious case. She comes from Texas, hence the nickname and the accent that gets too thick when she’s drunk. Mama wanted her to be this Southern belle but she turned out to be a real wrangler. She’s the smartest person I know, but has a very relaxed way about her.”

“Who?” Dexter asks as he passes by.

“Tex.” They answer.

He shakes his head. “That girl’s a tree hugging loon.”

Ben quickly comes to know the dynamic of you and Tyler. There is no home but each other, you make the best of every situation because you are together. Two pairs of cowboy boots and wide eyes, that’s what you two are.

“I’d compare her to like…a coyote.” Lilly determines. “She’s the perfect balance of wisdom and foolishness, always willing to make light of situations. One time, we were tracking a desert storm in New Mexico and we were camping in our trucks, it was hot, all our leads were gone and we’re ready to turn back. The sunrise comes and it’s prettiest thing I ever seen, we wake up to just a color spill of orange and pink. We open our doors up and Tex is out there dancing in a sports bra and boxers.”

Boone leans back in his chair, laughing at the memory. “Man, we thought she finally lost it, that being with Tyler for so long finally made her go off the rails. T is standing there, watching her, asking what the hell she was doing and she claims she was doing a rain dance.” He says, making Ben chuckle to himself.

Lilly lights a cigarette and rolls her eyes. “She was out there shaking her ass.”

“You fucking joined her!” Boone argues, taking the cigarette from her.

“Well yeah, you don’t let your best friend dance alone. And what happened that day? The rain came and the biggest thunderheads I had ever seen blew in. The lightning was beautiful, Ben, you shoulda been there.”

New Mexico rain was a memory you thought of often, it just felt a little fresher. Blame it on the heat you were dying of or the thirsty land you stood on, but you stood out in it, getting soaked to the bone and then fell into Tyler’s arms.

Now, far away in Oklahoma, Tyler stands looking up at you soaking in the moonlight. “Come down from there.” He calls. You lean over the edge of the roof and look at him. “Why don’t you come up here?” You challenge.

Tyler shakes his head. “I’m tired, darlin’. Let me take you inside.”

You look back up at the stars, then slide from the top of the truck, making him reach out and catch you. “Alright, take me to bed you old man.”

He shakes his head at your comment. It’s hard to resist anymore, you just looked so gorgeous underneath the moonlight. He leans to kiss you, nothing too deep but still of passion because he loves tasting the sugar of your lips, you were always so sweet that it made his head cloudy.

Arm around your shoulders, yours around his waist, the two of you say goodnight to your friends and head to your motel room, Rocky trotting after you. The lock on the door is hard to budge open, the room has a sort of stale smell.

As Tyler is distracted by setting up a bed for the dog, you grab your things from your duffel. “Dibs in the bathroom.” You shout before making a run for it. Tyler groans and tries to beat you, but you stand in the doorway, sticking your tongue out at him. “You just gotta be faster.” You tease before shutting the door in his face.

The low bulb light casts a hazy orange glow to everything, you start the shower and find it to have weak water pressure. Your clothes make a pile on the floor and soon the air steams up.

Your muscles relax as you wash off, you let out a small groan at your fingers scrubbing your scalp. The sound of the shower curtain being pulled back and Tyler stepping in behind you makes you turn. “I haven’t even been in here that long.”

He shrugs, then moves to hog the water. “I got impatient.”

After being with someone for so long and sharing everything, nothing really fazes you. The crew jokes that you and Tyler could probably morph into one body at this point.

By the time the two of you are mostly rinsed off, he’s getting handsy. His fingers trace over your handful of tattoos, wet skin sliding across you in a feverish way. You lean your head back against his shoulder, looking up at him. “Ty…”

He looks down you was an innocent smile. “Oh come on, we’ve been traveling with people for too long. We get one night without Boone gagging when I kiss you.” He says, then leans his head down, nuzzling into your neck.

You bite your lip at the feeling, your arm coming up to run your hand through his hair. “Who’s in the room next to us? These walls are thin.”

“I don’t give a shit about that.” He mumbles, hand slipping far past your navel, earning a loud gasp from you.

You lean your weight back against him, nodding feverishly as his fingers do wonders to an aching spot between your legs. “Okay, not having Boone around is really good.” You breathe.

He’s practically holding you up, his other arm is around you, holding you to his chest while he makes you fall apart.

It didn’t matter that the room hasn’t been updated since the 80’s or that the mattress groaned under the weight of the two of you or that Rocky runs and hides, the two of you were savoring this alone time because you didn’t know when the next time would be when you got it.

You’re laughing, making out and switching positions. The feel of his hand running past the valley of your breasts and giving your throat the lightest grip, it makes you feel on fire. The headboard’s getting knocked into the wall, you’re breathlessly whining and he’s loving every reaction you give him. By the time you’re gripping his shoulders so tight and his name is sounding broken as it cuts from your throat, he’s barely holding himself up.

The air conditioning makes an odd hum sound as you lay against him, skin on skin. You never understood how people could get bored of sex after being with someone for a while, having sex with Tyler Owens was hotter than west Texas in the Summer.

Well, the first time was a little awkward. Most people don’t establish they love each other before they sleep with each other, but you guys did. When you sat in his lap, lips slotted against his, you had to fight to push the idea out of your mind that you were grinding against your best friend. Everything was slow and every touch was unsure, after it ended you were scared that the relationship dynamic would never work if this was how sex was together.

You laugh now, thinking about it.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, fingers tracing the long horn skull that is tramp stamped on you.

“I’m just remembering the first time we had sex.” You shake with amusement. He groans. “You have to stop bringing that up.”

Pushing up from his chest, the blanket falls off of you. He watches in amazement as you swing your leg over his waist, your hands planted on his chest. “I think it’s cute, we were just babies.”

“Yeah, sometimes I miss the days where I didn’t know how insane you were.”

You glare, immediately going to move off of him before his grip yanks you back to your spot.

“I’m kidding, I always knew you were crazy.” He says.

“You love it.” You lean over him, and his hand comes to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “You know I do, darlin’.”

Falling asleep was easy, you could fall asleep anywhere, but in a bed with Tyler holding you to his chest, it had you dreaming in seconds. You wake before he does, slowly sliding away to get dressed. You stand at the balcony outside, a cup of coffee in your hand as you watch the sunrise. After a few moments of peace, the door behind you opens and out comes your lover boy.

“No rain dance this morning?” He asks, kissing the top of your head.

“There’s plenty of rain in Oklahoma, they don’t need me to shake my ass in the parking lot for it to come.” You state, leaning down to pick up Rocky who trailed out after Tyler.

The two- well, three of you, look out at the horizon line, the air is already getting hot.

“You ready?” He asks you, and you turn to kiss his jaw. “I’m always ready.”

[theealbatross]

a habit to kick, an age old curse (s.s)

Plot | They're no longer friends unfortunately they're still soulmates.

or, you and Sebastian are now strangers but at your most vulnerable moment he picks up the pieces. Only he knows. Only he can.

Tags | angst, heartbreak, when you're too depressed to confess, sebastian and the bad bitch he pulled by being stupid, sebastian is an academic weapon if he wants to, mentions of fire torture, murder (self-defense), trauma, emotional cheating (if u squint), slight fluff as a treat, panic attack, PTSD, Anne is dead, 3k-ish of angst

[A/N: Stream 'i love you, i'm sorry' by gracie for full immersion.]

Quidditch Season was important for every student in Hogwarts but it was the after-parties that everyone was truly looking forward to, house pride aside. 

Which is what exactly Garreth had been barred from. “I can’t believe I wasn’t given an invitation just cause I’m friends with you! I’m not even a Slytherin! And I make the best punches!”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, sighing. Even he didn’t think those pesky Ravenclaws would take their competition this seriously. It all started when he had finally decided to become an auror, after a peaceful, distraction-free year and careful deliberations from each of his professors, he was given the informal encouragement that he was one of the few students who had the potential to become a trainee to such a prestigious program. With his ever-growing physique and indisputable intellect, it would simply be a question of effort.

He just needed to be at the top of all the classes required of him. This was the tragic news for all those Ravenclaw dreams – once Sebastian had his sights on it, it was as good as his.

He hadn’t expected that their ire of him extended to his friends. Even refusing to invite them to the first party of the year that the Ravenclaw had won against the Hufflepuffs. Sebastian had half the mind to join his own House’s quidditch team even with his packed schedule just so he could wipe the floor with them. It would be worth never sleeping again.

“What do you want me to do Gar –”

“Here.”

A piece of paper hung from above him, the hand it was hanging from was connected to a face he hadn’t seen this closely in a long, long time. Even the whisper of her name in his mouth felt foreign – a tragic circumstance when a lifetime ago she had been a kindred soul.

Before he could say anything else, Garreth had already snatched the paper from in-between his eyes. “Is this – Really?!”

“The password for today’s party, try to sneak in when the ‘guards’ are smashed,” she grinned at the redhead. Then, Sebastian felt a cold blade slice through his chest (a hand suspiciously touching the spot just to check) when she looked back down at him again. “For old time’s sake.”

It took him a moment too long to realize she was talking to him too. But his tongue felt heavy and stuck, the metaphorical rug under his feet getting pulled out when he least expected it.

He nodded.

“See you around.”

He stared as she waltzes gracefully from the bustling crowd, getting roped into a hug by her boyfriend, William Frey, the bloody captain of the Ravenclaws. When he had heard about it, he couldn’t quite point out why he hated his smug, pretty face but then, using his blessed brain he got his bitter answer: they were too damn perfect together.

He was everything she deserved.

Smart, popular, kind, and comes from a good family that will be able to support her in whatever endeavors she might be up to in the future.

Not an orphaned criminal who couldn’t even save her sister.

The state of their friendship – or lack thereof – was pitiful but he knew it was for the better. Without each other in the way she can be loved by all those around her – something he has never been able to offer with his murky history that left a rubble of a man. And without her he can forget about his failures and mistakes, distract himself with as much schoolwork as he can cram in his head and never remember the times he sacrificed their friendship for his own gain only to lose it all anyways.

If he doesn’t see her then he can forget – he failed and his twin sister is dead.

A brilliant witch with a brilliant future didn’t deserve to be associated with failures.

“That was tense,” William whispered in your ears as he led you towards the courtyard. “A friend of yours?”

A flash of the lives you’ve lived with the Slytherin flashed before your eyes. Friends, what a lowly name.

You faked a smile, fighting every urge in your body to look back.

“A long time ago.”

The party was loud, no doubt the quidditch players were milking any taste of victory they have before they deal with whoever wins between the Slytherins and Gryffindor’s next week.

The music was loud, nearly pounding through the silencing charms in the walls of the common room. William at the thick in all of it, celebrating with his teammates, not forgetting to wave at you in your seat with that charming smile that usually makes you swoon.

However, it was the charmed fireworks all over the ceiling that had your heart exploding out of your chest. Flashes of nightmares at every pop.

The dark forest, the ruined castle, the ropes in your stretched out hands as Rookwoods men threw all sort of fiery spells at you as target practice.

You pinched your eyes shut, shaking your head, trying to focus on breathing.

When you were starting to get dizzy you knew it wasn’t working. You tried to push through the crowd, reach your boyfriend somehow and at least let him know what was going on but it was impossible. It was the peak of the party when everyone was too drunk to do anything but drink more and dance more. With a shuddering breath, you instead skirted around the crowd and escaped narrowly through the doors of the Ravenclaw common room.

Not even bothering with a disillusionment spell, knowing damn well all the prefects would be in the party, you ran to the nearest floo to travel to your common room.

However, even the silence and comfort of the top of the common room wasn’t enough to ground you as you stumbled straight down the cold tiles, a yelp escaping your mouth from the sting of your skin.

“Someone there?”

That voice, distant but familiar. Painfully familiar. Your eyes continue to blur as your breath hastened, your limbs too weak, and the cold floor too damn comfortable for your overheating body.

“Are you alright?” He’s closer now, at the bottom of the stairs.

No, no, no.

In your desperation, you swallowed your pride. Forgetting in the moment how humiliated you will be to be seen by the last person in your house you wanted to show this side of you.

He would take care of you.

He always takes care of you.

“Sebastian,” you could barely croak out in between your gasps. Silence followed and you whimpered, crawling down to the edge of the top of the stairs when you heard fast footsteps ascending and there he was.

“Fucking hell, what happened to you?!”

Before you could try to say anything else you were already carried in his arms, Sebastian’s panic at seeing someone that was always so shiny and untouchable on a daily basis gasping and writhing in their common room floor was something he had not prepared himself to see tonight.

He thought the worst would be drunk seniors he would have to haul up their rooms not his … not you.

Carefully, he placed you on the nearest couch, your grip in his arms painful but welcome as it grounded him and prevented him from rattling when he saw your pale face covered with sweat and tears.

“Pet, you gotta help me here, what’s going on?! What do you need?!”

His eyes plotted your face, firm hands frantically running across your body to check for any stain of blood or hints of the source of your pain. It was agonizingly intimate, especially with the knowledge of how much this has happened in the past – one of you writhing in pain, the other doing their darndest to fix it.

A shot of pain pierced your chest when you suddenly breathed in, making you cry out and crawl into his arms.

Your calming medicine – it was in your bedside table. However, it was no use, like blood was not reaching your brain and all you know to do is to just hold on to Sebastian.

“Fuck!”

In a blink, your face was buried in Sebastian’s neck, the entirety of your curled up body tightly held together by him as he sat you in his lap, arms wrapped protectively around your body. “Breathe with me,” he whispers, taking deep slow puffs and caressing your hair. “That’s it, deep breathes. Follow me, darling. Enough with your crying now, listen to my voice.”

In. Out. The clean scent of the common room, faint sweet smell of his favorite tea.

In. Out. The sweat on his skin, the cologne he had worn since the first day you met him.

In. Out. Old books, fresh parchment, thick ink, and the throbbing aroma of the Amortentia you brewed last week.

“Hey,” you could feel the sweat start to cool your skin, his rough hand worked on your cheeks as he continued to cradle you in his arms. His body relaxing with yours until you could take up air on your own. “What hap –”

“What in Merlin’s … did you do this?”

You stared up in wonder, the two of you surrounded by a large bubble, the ones you usually see when you throw a Protego, except this one continued to enclose you. Now that your panic has passed you realize you can’t hear anything else but … the sound of water?

He looked shy, rubbing the back of his neck as he settled you back on the couch. It was only then you realized that you had been in his lap this entire time. You hoped the dim light of the common room hid the embarrassment in your face.  “It’s … something I’ve made. Helps me sleep at night. What you’re hearing is the sounds under the Black Lake. I’m gonna write a paper on it for Ronen, should get me a couple of points.”

Ah, his valiant academic conflict with the Ravenclaws did not escape even you. They’re going to fucking curse him in their sleep when they realize he was a lap ahead of his competition.

Now that your vision wasn’t doubling you could faintly see a golden string that connected from the bubble, straight through the tall glass window of the common room. “Sebastian, this is brilliant.”

A flare of nervousness lodged in your chest when Sebastian suddenly looked at you– the gaze that let you know that he could see right through you. He always saw right through you – you’d grown to hate it.

“We don’t have to talk about it.”

He was a gentleman – always had been. It could be the fact that he had (has? is it too soon?) a sister that he was so well-versed in the heart of a lady. But aside from that – Sebastian, at some point in time, was someone who knew the most. And the gods’ honest truth is you never could hide a secret from him.

It could be the alcohol in your system or the buried instinctive nature to tell him everything back when the two of you spent late nights in the Room of Requirement and talked about everything being unearthed but you felt like being honest. Even if the boy beside you had grown into a stranger.

“I’m … remember when I got kidnapped by … and you …”

And you saved me.

Again. Always.

He was there, charging headfirst, ignoring Professor Fig’s warnings and Ominis’ pleas to wait for the Aurors in Hogsmeade. When he arrived, he saw the burn marks, bruises, and wounds all over your body and just saw red … and left red. 

“The Rookwood incident?”

By the time back up had arrived the two of you were slumped on each other and surrounded by corpses, eyes blank and suspicious, desperately holding on to each other.

“The Rookwood incident,” you nodded. “What I didn’t tell you is that before you had arrived, they had been … they tied me and threw fire spells at me, that’s where I got my wounds. I never told you because –”

He was too angry. And you were too terrified of pushing your closest friend to the darkness he had been tethering on. Not that it mattered, he fell right to that cliff on his own.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened, hands shaking in front of you. “No, Seb, it’s not like tha –”

“I know you were trying to protect me. You always were,” he shook his head, now it was him who couldn’t look at you. “How many scars did I give you?”

“I healed just fine –”

“Then let me rephrase my question, “ This time, the look in his eyes terrified you. The intensity, the guilt – it was so palpable you almost want to cup his face the way you used to, to ease his cruel burden. “How many of these nightmares have I cursed you with?”

Your silence made his bitter smile grow. You don’t have to say it because he (always) knows – the worst nightmares were the ones with him in it.

“Does … does he know about it?”

You nodded, “He does. William tried to help, sent me to the best mind doctors last summer but … I’m just so tired. I’m tired of the tests, the probing in my brain – he means well, I know he does but there’s nothing those strangers can tell me that I don’t already know.”

With an understanding expression on his face, the two of you sat in silence, staring at the large windows hovering over the two of you as the deep quiet of the lake echoed in the fragile haven he had conjured up. If you close your eyes, if you forget about everything else, you could almost trick you mind that these was one of those good times.

That you’d turn and find him buried in between towers of books you had borrowed from the library and Ominis would be sleeping against the wall of the Undercroft. And then you’d catch his eyes and he would smile – a silent message between two people who didn’t need to speak to communicate – and the silence would stretch, just like this, but you would be together again.

“I could teach you.”

You raised an eyebrow and despite himself he chuckled. He didn’t have the best history with teaching you spells, after all. “This charm, I mean.”

How many cures has been shoved in your throat? How many disappointments you hid in lies that, yes the Calming Elixir cures me of such flaws. Did you need any more help? Would it fix you this time?

“It won’t fix anything but it might ..” he shrugged. “… make tomorrow easier.”

You’re terrified of him, you realize. How can someone know you so deeply without ever even realizing it? Does he know? The power he has over you? How you would’ve burned your life to the ground if he had asked for it?

Ask, you wanted to scream. Ask. Ask. Ask.

“Alright,” He seemed surprised, you smiled at the face he made. “Couldn’t hurt.”

For all his nonchalance it was a complicated charm to cast. “No, it has to be more than half a circle when you swish it –”

This was familiar. A bit more awkward and with a lot more strain but it was familiar – if all had gone well this would have been just an unremarkable day in your life. You can’t help but wonder if your burden would be lighter if he was the one helping you carry it.

You swallowed your thoughts back down, no sense in dreaming of different realities now. Because this was your life and the worst thing that could possibly happen did happen. So, you’ll take all that you can get – even if it’s just one last night pretending everything didn’t slip out of your hands.

“No, here, let me guide you,” When Sebastian was in his ‘professor mode’ as you and Ominis used to tease him for, he gets so focused on teaching that he doesn’t notice anything else, doesn’t even notice your gasp as he wrapped an arm around your back, grasping the hand with your wand and helping you trace the shape needed to cast the spell. “And the word is ‘Salus.”

Salus. Safety. Salvation.

That’s who he was. Your Sebastian. “Salus.”

On cue, a bubble surrounded the two of you once again, the white noise of the castle replaced by the deep lake’s groans. “Perfect.”

Despite the time you spend learning all sorts of complicated magic, it never takes away the quick flutter of your chest in excitement at every spell you master. “I did it!” You turned to be Sebastian but he was already looking at you.

You’ve always told him if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought Sebastian was the true heir of Slytherin. He just fits here – in the dim lights, and emerald furniture, and the coldness that emphasizes just how warm he is. “… beautiful.”

“What?” He was staring, his hooded gaze, the freckles you had always wanted to trace into constellations, the part on his lips that teases your skin with his breath.

“Your technique is beautiful.” He’s lying, you don’t catch it. Suddenly, your half-pinned hair fell apart, Sebastian having pulled away the clip holding it away from your face. “Now, lay down.”

His arms were gentle and firm as they guided you to lay across the wide couch, Sebastian having scooted down to sit on the floor, face in front of yours. He’s so close. “Sleep.”

You hope he knows, that if your sleep remains dreamless tonight and if your tomorrow is easier, it’s not because of his painfully complicated spell. Your eyes waver, the edges of your sight dimming and blurring. You feel a touch on your cheek, you try to chase it. The last thing you see is his deep brown eyes and the soft smile that had been the biggest curse he had unknowingly laid on you.

He has to know, right?

You have to tell him.

Sebastian, I’ve always – I still – I never stop –

“Hey, wake up.”

Your eyes split open, another ghost of your past in front of you. “Ominis?”

The noise slowly trickled as you became more aware, eyes shifting to you, some out of curiosity why you picked the couch as a resting place instead of your bedroom a few feet away or some that saw you in the party that held some pity, probably thinking you’re suffering the worst hangover of your life.

“William Frey is looking for you by the door,” he muttered sharply. It’s been a while since you and Ominis interacted, his tattered friendship with Sebastian extending to your own as the boy’s most loyal comrade in his pursuit of destruction. You know he lays a blame you and for that you couldn’t blame him. “Honestly, I had thought you had grown out of your foolish habit of sleeping everywhere.”

“I-I’m … sorry?”

He shook his head before turning to leave.

Had … had everything been a dream?

You looked around suspiciously, for what you weren’t quite sure. A sign? A pillow out of place that could be evidence that last night happened?

It wasn’t mere delusion, you were sure. The knowledge of the spell in your head evidence enough of the small moment you shared with an old friend last night but it would be nice to have some sort of proof. A tangible confirmation that you could keep with you as you return to your reality.

With a sigh you let your disappointment fester for a second longer, locking last night in the deepest part of your heart, one that can only be unearthed once again in your loneliest nights.

A practiced smile cements on your face, turning to the chair one last time to allow yourself one more moment of hesitation before going up the stairs.

Back to the beautiful boy who will only see the beautiful parts of you and leaving the one who gets the honor of keeping the shadows.

Inside the boy’s dormitory Sebastian stares at the stolen emerald clip on his bedside table.

[redstarwriting]

the clash | iv. london calling

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, smoking weed, alcohol, mentions of a gwen canon event, mentions of death, lil angst

a/n: nother long one! i can’t wait to make it crazy angsty bc when i tell u i have THOUGHTS 👀 thank you to everyone who’s reading, i’m trying to update it every day, so hopefully i can stick with that schedule! enjoy this chapter, friends :)

now reading: iv. london calling

previous chapter: iii. black planet

next chapter: v. ever fallen in love

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He fixes his watch to open a portal to his world. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr basically run to get to it. He motions for you to go ahead, and you walk through. Immediately when you step into his room, you’re hit with the smell of weed and incense. You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You glance around. You see drums, another electric and acoustic guitar, empty spray paint cans, spray paint on the walls, stacks of newspapers (all defaced in some way)… it feels very Hobie to say the least. “Now this. This is a livin’ area,” he says, appearing behind you. You shake your head. “So loud, both figuratively and literally. How do you ever get anything done?”

“By being louder than everyone else, obviously,” he responds, and you roll your eyes. “What a way to live,” you remark. “Better than that quiet, dark, and gloomy, way,” he retorts, and you shrug. “If you say so.”

“Hey, Hobie, do you still have the roof all decorated?” Gwen asks and he nods. “Course I do. I own the place, head on up,” he jerks his head upwards, and Gwen turns to Miles and Pavitr with a smirk. “Race ya!”

“Hey no fair! You have been here so many times!” Pavitr yells as Gwen takes off. “Come on, Miles!” you hear her yell. Miles smiles gently and shakes his head before going after the two of them. “He’s so obsessed with her it’s making me sick,” you mumble, and Hobie snorts. “What? Miles and Gwen’s relationship too much for you? You hate love?”

“Love has never done anything but cause me pain. And not the good kind,” you glance at him with a frown, and he raises his eyebrow. Suddenly his eyes get wide. “Oh shit… you had a Gwen canon event.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you respond, and he frowns. “You know, actually talkin’ about that kinda shit is a good way to not sit on it and let it build. You could face some serious problems if you keep doin’ that.”

“Who said I gave a fuck what you think? I didn’t ask for the unneeded advice, alright?” you say, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Oh, right. Forgot I was dealing with a bloody doughnut,” he mumbles and point to the window. “Care to go to the roof and get out of my sight?”

“Sound like the best thing you’ve said since I got here,” you say, leaping out of his window and climbing up the side of the building. While clinging to the wall, you glance out at Hobie’s world. His city looks almost exactly like Night of Yore City, except for the fact that there are a shit ton of fires burning, over half of the buildings look abandoned, the sky is a reddish-orangish hue, and it is so much louder. The name is also vastly different, as his version of NYC is New London. Universal differences get weird and confusing. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued, you turn around, putting your back against the wall and supporting yourself with your hands and feet. The graffitied buildings are a nice touch, you must admit. You snort to yourself when you see a mural of Hobie. If only they knew the asshole behind the mask.

“Now why the hell aren’t you up there with everyone else?” you hear his voice pull you out of your thoughts as he crawls up next to you. You shrug. “I’m a sucker for views, I guess.”

“Well, believe it or not, view is a lot better from the top of the buildin’,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Can I please just be secluded and observe in peace?”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Come on,” he says, starting to walk up the wall. You sigh and lazily roll backwards and up the wall to come to standing and follow him up. When you get to the top of the roof, you see a boombox (blaring punk music, of course) and blankets surrounding a barrel with a fire going in it. Multiple coolers decorate the roof which all look stockpiled full of different beers. “Hey, Hobie, you know that they’re all kids, right?”

“New universe, new rules, love. Drinking age is 16 and up ‘round here, not that I’d give a fuck if it wasn’t anyway. So, sit down, shut up, and drink a damn beer. Maybe you’ll loosen up,” he says, tossing you a random bottle. You roll your eyes and sit down but put the beer to the side.

“Hey, Hobie, do you have any of that–” Miles gets cut off by Hobie tossing him another bottle. “Nice. Thanks, dude,” he says excitedly, cracking the top and taking a drink. Gwen gets her beer of choice, and Pavitr does the same. Hobie, you notice, doesn’t drink anything. “So, what were you guys talking about?” Gwen asks, pointing between the two of you with her bottle. “What?” you ask, and she shrugs. “You guys were alone in Hobie’s for a while and no one died, soooo did you guys finally talk about something you could agree on?”

“We can’t agree on nothin’, Gwen. They were just bein’ their usual self and annoyin’ the shit out of me at any chance they could get,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “Good to know it worked, mate”

“Stop imitatin’ me, poser.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll make you.”

“Try me, Hobart.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that. What were you guys talking about?” Miles asks, and you and Hobie look at each other. “Just asked where the bathroom was,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You weren’t necessarily ready to reveal you faced the Gwen canon event. Especially not to another Gwen. At least Hobie isn’t enough of a dick to bring it up in front of them. “Oh, yeah, you did change into your everyday clothes. Don’t know how I didn’t notice that,” Gwen states, taking another swig of her beer. You had changed in your apartment after cleaning your wound, but you don’t say anything. Hobie nods at you, and you nod back.

“Why aren’t you drinking anything (Y/n)? Here, try this it’s so good,” Pavitr pushes his bottle toward you, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to drink, but thanks Pavitr,” you say, and he frowns. “Awww.” You smile slightly at how disappointed he sounds. “Well, I want to remember everything you all tell me without it being fuzzy because I was hoping you could let me know a little bit more about all the spider people in Spider Society. I’m still new, you four, Peter B. Parker, and Miguel are the only ones I’ve really met.”

With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr start telling you everything they know. You learn about Jessica Drew, Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker, and so many more. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr talk for hours, and since they’re kids, they do not know when to stop drinking. Eventually, the three of them are passed out. Miles is cradling Gwen’s side with his head on her chest as she wraps one of her arms around him, and Pavitr is laying straight on his back, lightly snoring. You giggle softly at the sight. Suddenly the punk music you’ve been listening to for the past however many hours gets softer. You glance over to where it is and see Hobie bent over and turning it down. “Don’t wanna wake ‘em,” he mumbles, walking over to you. The volume of the city has decreased quite a bit, and with the low hum of music coming from the boombox now, his world is actually kind of enjoyable. Though you’d never tell him that. He motions to the skyline, and you turn and look. He was right, as much as you hate to admit it. The view is a lot better from up here.

“Why didn’t you drink anythin’?” he asks, and you shrug. “Didn’t feel like it. Why didn’t you drink anything?” He shrugs and pulls out a rolled cigarette from his vest pocket. “Got somethin’ better.”

“And you didn’t offer any to them?”

“Hey, they can drink here, they don’t need to mess with this shit. ‘Sides I knew they’d be pissed. Gonna have a god-awful hangover tomorrow,” he says, pulling out a lighter. You shake your head. “They can’t mess with your shit, but I can?”

“The two of us are the same age. We’re ‘adults’ or whatever the fuck that means. Are you too stuck up to be ‘round some grass or somethin’?”

“No, Hobie, I don’t give a fuck if you smoke weed. Building manager might, though.”

“Love, I am the building manager. This place is abandoned, so it belongs to me. And you’re not tellin’ me I’m supposed to smoke this myself?” he asks with a sly smirk on his face. You raise your eyebrow at him. “Actually I am.” He groans, putting the joint to his lips and lighting the end of it.

“Do you know how to have any fun?”

“Do you know how to have any–” Before you can finish, he puts his finger over your mouth, and raises the joint to his lips again. He takes a deep breath in, blowing out the excess smoke and glancing at you. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Don’t care. The answer is no.”

“Have you ever actually tried listening to anything anyone says?” “Nah. I don’t listen to no one. I’m me, and if people don’t like that, good,” he says, taking another drag. He glances over at you and holds the joint out. “Y’sure you don’t want some?”

“You actually want to share with me?”

“I want you to not be as much as a ragin’ fuckwit, so yes,” he blows smoke in your face, and you glare at him. “If I take one hit, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“Probably not, but it would sure make me happier.” You roll your eyes, and take the joint from him, taking a drag. He watches you. He’d never admit it, but he wishes you weren’t such an asshole. The way you look doing that in the moonlight? Stunning. You pass the joint back to him, some of the smoke coming out of your nose. “Stop staring at me.”

“Just makin’ sure you did it right and didn’t waste my shit,” he says, taking another drag. “I know how to hit a joint, Hobie.”

“Really? Never would have guessed you’d do anything remotely excitin’.”

“Oh, please. You barely know me,” you say, angrier than you probably should be. “Then tell me about yourself, love.”

“Hard pass,” you say, and he groans. “I get the desire to stay anonymous and mysterious, obviously, but come on. Chances are we’re gonna be seein’ each other more than either of us wants to, so just open up a bit,” he says, and you frown. “There’s nothing you need to know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me something about you.”

“I killed Norman Osborn with my guitar after defeatin’ him and all of his V.E.N.O.M. forces and successfully led a rebellion against fascism,” he says smugly, “Until those other fuckin’ Nazis showed up, but one day I promise you this world? Will be capitalist and fascist free.”

“No, it won’t. Am I supposed to be impressed?” you ask with a deadpan face. He scoffs. “Damn, you’re a wanker. I’d like to see you try and defeat the V.E.N.O.M. forces. From what I seen your world’s villains are rubbish,” he says and to his surprise, and yours, you laugh. A hint of a smile plays on his features, but you shake your head. “Green Goblin is, you’re right, but... there are others who are much worse. And what the fuck is a venom force? You’re saying that like I should just know what it is.”

“It was a symbiote that– wait, you sayin’ you don’t know what venom is? That’s something every spider-person deals with at some point,” he says, and you shrug. “Guess I haven’t dealt with it yet.”

“Yeah, well, when you do, call me cause you’ll need my help,” he says and you roll your eyes. “I’d rather die than get help from you.”

“I helped you today, love.”

“I could have done that myself,” you retort, and he shakes his head, taking another drag. “I guess I should thank you though.”

“Hmm?”

“For not telling them what we were really talking about,” you say, and he hums. “What they won’t know won’t kill ‘em. But just so you know I was being so serious. Not talkin’ about that shit is more harmful than good,” he says, and you frown. “I’m not much of a talker.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up,” you groan, and he laughs. He loves pissing you off, might be his favorite thing to do now. But the conversation might actually need to get serious. He may hate you, but he’s Spider-Punk for the people, and you’re apart of that people. He’s there to help, so he may as well try with you.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why not? Why won’t you talk about it?” he asks, and you huff. “Because it was my fault, and I don’t want to think about it.”

“Nah, I bet it wasn’t your fault,” he mumbles, taking another drag. You glare at him. “Oh, right, I forgot you were there when their neck snapped after I tried to save them,” you spit, and he glances at you. You can feel that hit starting to affect you, that’s the only reason you said anything about… the incident. Of course, Hobie has good shit, why wouldn’t he. “What were you trying to save them from?” he asks, his voice oddly calm. “The Prowler,” you reply, “He’s the worst of the worst in my universe.” He hums and nods. “Well then, reckon it’s the Prowler’s fault then, innit?”

“What? But I’m the one who couldn’t get to them in time after he–”

“He did it, (Y/n). You did your best, but it ain’t your fault what happened there. That’s what they want you to think. Try and get that through your thick skull, would you?” he says, and you scoff, “They?”

He nods, and you go quiet. He glances over at you as you just sit and stare out at the city. “Stop doin’ ‘at.”

“Doing what?”

“Blamin’ yourself,” he says, taking another long drag. You sigh. “I can’t help it,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “You can. Just takes time,” he responds. You scoff, “You’d think three years would be enough time.” You look out at his city. It’s so different from yours, but you can still see the beauty in it. And you can see the stars. None of the constellations of your world are here, but the sky is still beautiful. “If you need a place to crash, my couch is very comfortable and has your name written all over it,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “I should probably just go back to my universe–”

“No way. No dimension hopping under the influence,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “I had one hit,” you say, and he shrugs. “And one hit is enough for you to think you’re goin’ home only to end up in Peter Porker’s shower. You’re stayin’ here tonight.” You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m insufferable for watchin’ out for your well-bein’? Okay, sure.”

“I don’t need you to watch out for me. I don’t need anyone,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Too good for everyone else.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Like you wouldn’t say the same thing,” you say, and he shrugs. “You’re right. I would say I don’t need anyone, because I don’t. Especially not a miserable thing like you,” he says, and you frown. “Good.”

“Great.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

The two of you just glare at each other for a bit before he flicks the butt of his joint off the building. “Goin’ to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Shut up and follow me back to my place,” he says, getting up and walking down the building. You follow, yawning as you realize just how tired you are. When you get back inside Hobie’s place, he points at the couch. “Lay there, and don’t move until mornin’, got it?”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“Amazin’. Just don’t wake me up, and I won’t give a fuck,” he says, walking into his bedroom and kicking his door shut. You roll your eyes and lay down on his couch. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, and you find yourself actually dozing off faster than you anticipated. Hobie walks out of his room to get a drink of water and ready to fight you verbally again, only to see you passed out on his couch with literally no blanket or pillow.

He sighs, grabbing a throw blanket off his bed and gently placing it on top of you. In the morning, you wake up before everyone else. You notice the blanket, and know only one person could have done that, but you don’t feel like sticking around to say anything. You just go home. But before you do, you leave a little note saying, ‘didn’t need your sympathy, thanks but no thanks,’ and draw a little middle finger.

He’ll get the hint you appreciated it.

───────────────────────────────

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[titaswrld]

you know me

description: ron and reader being friends, they both know it looks so weird of them to be so touchy when they’re just friends but they both love the physical affection and connection they have…what’s so wrong with that?

paring: ron weasley x reader

contains: song fic, fluff, friendship, lowk fwb…except it’s just platonic lol. for now..

song: juna by clairo.

w.c: 974

|an: kinda a self indulgent fic but i hope you guys love it too! i love love love ron and ive had this idea for a while, part two is going to be smutty.

part one part two

come to me slowly

it's when you talk close enough

that is feel it on my skin

breathe it in

your best friend. that’s all he was really; at least that’s what you thought. there had always been a lingering feeling, a what-if that always crossed your mind, but that thought was always pushed back into the back of your head. you and ron were friends, nothing more, nothing less.

little did you know, he felt the same. you were one of the most important people in his life; he would put you up there with family. you both meant a great deal to each other. sure, there were some wishful thoughts, but no, he couldn’t as much as he wanted it. you were just friends, nothing more, nothing less.

most of these days

i don't get too intimate

why would i let you in?

but i think again

everybody knows, but you two—i mean, it’s obvious. anyone with a pair of working eyes could see that you and ron shared an inseparable type of love, more than that of just friends. you did everything together and spent all your time together. you eat right beside him, your shoulders always touching for every meal, laughing and making jokes. be never fails to walk you to all your classes. you study together, do your homework together, ditch classes together, spend hogsmeade trips together—everything.

you and ron were also no strangers to physical affection; after all, it’s the reason you met.

third-year care for magical creatures class, the day the two of you met. you’d always been a little scared of the mythical creatures that inhabited the wizarding world; they were untelling and unpredictable.

“isn’t he beautiful?” hagrid bellowed as buckbeak strutted forward from behind him, making an animalistic shriek and catching the piece of meat hagrid threw at him into his mouth. everyone stepped back in fear to avoid being anywhere close to the creature; you were especially terrified.

the second buckbeak shrieked, you gripped the arm of the person next you, who just so happened to be ron, of whom had never had a woman touch him like this before, until now.

bloody hell, he thought to himself, his cheeks reddening and his breath faltering. for some reason, your touch felt good to him. in fact, he didn’t want you to let go until you did.

“oh my god! i’m so sorry, im such a chicken sometimes i really-" You’d blabbered, face reddening until he interrupted you.

“It’s okay, really. bloody thing gave me a bit of a fright too.” he said it with a slight chuckle at the end, which tugged the corners of your mouth into a grin. from then on, you became inseparable.

i don't even try

i don't have to think

with you, there's no pretending

it’s been two, almost three years now, and you know each other inside and out. you were now seated in your favorite spot which just so happened to be the couch in front of the fireplace in the gryffindor common room; you’d spend a lot of time there with him. talking, laughing, studying…holding hands, cuddling...his arm draped along your shoulder as he listened to you complain about your recent potions assignment. which you two considered casual, everybody else didn’t.

“he’s practically on top of her! pay up already!” fred exclaimed in a hushed whisper to george as they peaked from behind the staircase at the couple.

to which george rolled his eyes, “yeah, but they always do this; it’s really nothing new. you know that.” fred had an annoyed expression now plastered on his face, silence telling as he continued to watch the scene in front of him unfold.

you know me, you know me

and i just might know you too

come to me ready

you two knew people thought it was weird, but for you guys, it was just comfort. It was providing a sense of security; you were just showing your love for each other! what’s so wrong with that? 

you’d blabbered on about how you were so sick of snape and his big dumb stupid assignments that you couldn’t stand any longer. ron was listening, of course he was listening. he always listened to you, but today he was more focused on you than your ranting. he was focused on the way your lips moved while you spoke, the beauty marks that detailed your face so delicately, the slope of your nose, the way your thick eyelashes fanned across your eyelids, and the way your eyebrows creased in frustration as you read out snape's rubric for his newest assignment. 

“i mean, it’s ridiculous! look at this, ron. he wants—“ you started, but were cut off by ron’s own statement.

“you really are beautiful, you know.” he didn’t even register what he said until the words escaped his lips, but he wasn’t scared, nor was he shy around you. he knew you. he knew the time was right; this was the moment he had been subconsciously waiting for. 

a slight blush crept on your cheeks as you smiled, cupped his right cheek with your hand, and gave him a kiss on the other. “thanks ron. you don’t look too bad yourself, you know.”

he laughed and unwrapped his arm from around your shoulders to give you a slight push, knowing it would get you going. 

“oh, you’re in for it now.” you’d stated, bringing your legs up from the couch and kneeling on the cushions below you to shove him with both hands, using all your might to knock him over. 

he hardly moved; despite your efforts, he let out an “oh, am i?" and nothing more before wrapping his arms around your waist and roughly laying you out on the couch, as he brought his hands up to begin tickling your sides. 

“oh! really?” you gasped, "you think i don’t have siblings too? don’t make me start kicking weasley,” you’d stated in between breaths. 

he stopped at once, raising his arms up in a defeated manner, “okay. okay. you win.” 

“that’s what I thought.” you’d said catching your breath. you didn’t realize it, but in this moment, ron was sure of something he never thought he would be so sure of in his life. 

 

[that-tmr-girl]

Why Choose? (Newt x Thomas x Reader Smut)

When you hear Thomas and Newt talking about you, you decide you don't have to choose.

Threesome, teasing, fingering, vaginal sex, praise kink, overstimulation

Greenie was interesting. Really interesting. With his questions and attitude and attractiveness. He was something else.

Newt has always been interesting. With his track-hoe outfit and commanding voice and build. He had been the only one to catch my eye until Thomas.

I should be concerned, scared even. I know that hearing them say what they want to do to me should worry me.

The thing is I really wanted to do those things. I had fantasized about them and woken up soaked after those dreams. It was just something I couldn't explain but wanted anyway. It didn't have to make sense for it to be true.

“Y/N, she's gotta be with someone, right? If she's the only girl?”Thomas reasoned. Stopping in my tracks, I held my breath as I listened to their private conversation in the deadheads.

One that I had to hear.

“Somehow no. Nobody's just caught her eye I guess,”Newt shrugged.

“Oh. That's interesting I guess,”He trailed off.

“You in love with the girl, Thomas?”He teased.

“No,”He instantly defended, his face turning red. “I just think she's kind of cute,”He mumbled.

“Course you do.”

“I mean do you think she's cute?”He trailed off.

“You wanna know what I think of Y/N?”

“I mean yeah.”

“That she’s sweet. She's a great friend, she's caring, she’s soft, she’s the best bloody thing to happen to this place. I think she's great, and I’d take the chance to be with her like any bloke.”

“Like with her or with her?”

“Both.”

With my face flushing at his words, I turned and stared at the ground as I took in his words. It was insane. Absolutely insane. I mean yes. I do feel the same for him, but at the same time Thomas is just so special. At the same time though, Newt is special. At the same, same time, one conversation can't actually tell much. I mean, not one that I’m not participating in.

But he wants me the way I want him. Or more like the ways I want him. I want to hold his hand and sit with him every Greenie night but at the same time, end up in his bed while everyone else is busy.

Thomas though, I want him too. I want to watch the stars and stay up all night talking to him while also staying up all night because of him arching my back.

With my face only getting warmer, I glanced back at them and listened to more of the conversation.

“Don't look at me like that, mate. I see the way you stare at her.”

“So do you,”Thomas shot back.

“The difference is I never denied it, did I?”

With my breath hitching in my throat, I thought about what to do for a moment. On one hand, I keep to myself. I’m almost shy and quiet.

On the other hand, why not be bold for once? Why not go after what I want?

Without even thinking about it I stepped out of my hiding spot. Walking over to them, I kept my expression blank as they looked up at my footsteps. As they both turned red it was clear they realized I had overheard.

Finding myself unable to speak, I just grabbed their hands and pulled them up. Putting my finger to my lips, I gestured for them to follow me. Without hesitation, they did so. Holding back a grin, I led them past the trees and to the very edge of the Homestead, where my hut was. While it was specifically made to keep boys out, Alby hadn't said anything about bringing them inside.

Opening my door, I looked back to see them right behind me. Walking inside, I watched them follow suit.

“I’m sorry. I-”

Cutting Thomas off, I pushed my lips against his. After freezing for a moment, he slipped his warm tongue into my mouth. Realizing what was happening, Newt closed my door.

Thomas trailed his hand down my stomach, into my pants. Circling my clit, he made me moan into his mouth. Harshly tugging his hair, I felt the wetness drip down my thighs. Groaning in my mouth, he stuck a finger inside of me before pulling away from my mouth. Attacking my neck, he nibbled on my skin, leaving marks. Moaning louder, I felt my legs shake as he added another finger. Just as I was right there, he pulled away.

With a desperate whine I pulled my pants down, letting my underwear follow. Looking me up and down, he let his eyes travel on my body as he pulled his pants off. Tugging my shirt over my head, I threw it on the floor.

Pushing me against the wall, he placed his dick by my entrance. Looking at me for consent, when I nodded he carefully pushed himself inside of me. Digging my nails into his back, I moaned his name. Grabbing my legs, he wrapped them around his waist as he repeatedly pulled out and slammed into me. With my back arching against the wall, I felt my eyes roll back to my head at the pleasure. Dragging my nails down his back, I repeated his name as he kept pulling out and pushing in. With the knot in my core getting worse, as I was right there he pulled out. With tears almost filling my eyes at the teasing, I threw my head back as he dropped me from around him.

I didn't have to worry though as he let Newt stand in front of me. Already undressed, he asked if I wanted this. The second I said yes he penetrated me. Resting my head on his shoulder, I closed my eyes against my will as my body shook. Holding my waist, he started to increase his pace, grunting near my ear as he did. With desperate sounds leaving me, I was already close. As my walls clenched around him he twitched inside of me.

“I’m gonna cum,”I moaned. Going harder, as he slammed into me once more he filled me up. Coming to my release as well, both out liquids spilled down my legs.

Pressing his lips against mine, he was a much more gentle kisser. With his hands under my jaw, he took my breath away all over again.

When he was satisfied he grabbed my hips and picked me up. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his shoulders as he carried me to my bed. Laying me down, he waved Thomas over. Squirming at just the thought, I watched as he positioned himself over me.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,”I honestly answered.

Accepting it, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the outline of his abs from his time in the Glade. Instinctively looking down as my face turned red, when I saw his hard, veiny cock, it got worse.

“Please don't tease me this time?”I begged through shaky breaths.

“You look too good to tease anymore,”He said firmly. When I let out a sound of delight at his words he aligned himself with my entrance. Staring at the ceiling, I whimpered again as he pushed his tip into me. “It’s okay. I won't go fast,”He promised, slowly pushing more of himself into me. Shutting my eyes, tears spilled from them at the overstimulation. With his hands on my shoulders, he gradually fit himself all the way inside. With strangled noises leaving me, I opened my eyes as he held himself still, letting me adjust yet again. Wrapping my arms around his back, I dug my nails into his skin at the familiar pleasure. When he heard me moan in his ear he pulled out just to slam back into me, making me gasp.

Repeating his action, he seemed to get deeper with each thrust. With my body shaking, I clung to him as he started grunting. With his hands on my thighs, he spread my legs wider as he buried his face in the crook of my neck. With his chest pressed against mine, he filled me up while sucking and biting my skin. Arching my back, I let my hands go to my side as I twisted the sheets. Grabbing them, he pinned them above my head as he sped up, making the knot in my core get worse. Twitching inside of me, he got sloppier as he pushed his lips against mine. With my eyes still rolling to the back of my head, I moaned in his mouth as he ran his fingers through my hair. As I was right there he pulled his lips away, biting down on my neck. Arching my back again, I screamed his name as I came. With another thrust, he twitched before filling me with his seed, spilling from my thighs. With our breathing raspy, we stayed there for a moment until he pulled out.

“My turn,”Newt said simply, getting on top of me. Placing himself over my soaked pussy, he looked at me for consent. The second I nodded he put his hands on my shoulders as he slammed into me. Letting out a whimper at the way I was being penetrated again, I was held still as my body shook. Keeping his pace, he moaned praises in my ear at each thrust. Feeling my toes curl as the pressure in my stomach never seemed to end, I threw my head back as he kept pushing himself into me. With black dots clouding my vision, I was making incoherent sounds. Twitching inside of me, he grabbed my waist to keep me from moving my hips up. Crashing his lips against mine, he made my eyes roll to the back of my head as he was absolutely ruthless. Moaning in his mouth, I released all over him. Carelessly pulling out and pushing in, he kept going as he pulled his mouth away, looking at my face. Barely able to breathe, I moaned as his warm liquids filled me up. Groaning, he made sure I was dripping before he pulled out.

“You’ve been such a good girl. Taking us like that,”He praised in my ear, sending chills up my spine. Kissing my forehead, he then sat me up, pushing me against the headboard.

“Hands and knees,”He commanded. Managing to do what he said, I felt my arms shake. Grabbing my waist, he made sure I was stable before nodding at Thomas.

Getting behind me, he aligned himself with my entrance before asking if I was okay. When I said I was he gently pushed into me. With overstimulation leaving me sensitive, he had to hold my waist to keep me up. Being slower, he kept saying soft praises each time he would push into me. Letting out more sounds, I dropped my head as he kept his gentle pace.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl. Taking us so well,”He moaned as the never ending knot returned. Panting as my knees kept threatening to give out, I felt him tighten his grip as he noticed. “Fuck, you feel good. So fucking good,”He grunted. Dropping my head, my walls clenched around him. Pushing into me again, he held himself there as we both came. When he pulled out he slowly laid me on my back. With my legs shaking, I was close to tears as the feeling of them.

“You did so well,”He praised as he helped me on my back. Breathing heavily, I couldn't even nod my head. In fact, I couldn't even move.

“It’s okay, love,”Newt sighed, carefully pulling one of his boxers up my shaking legs. With my vision just barely returning, I stared at the ceiling as I admittedly wore an almost love sick smile.

Thomas pulled one of his shirts over my head, leaving me completely dressed. With both of them in their boxers, they each crawled on the opposite side of me, leaving me in the middle. With their arms wrapped around me, the feeling of safety and affection left me happier than I could ever say. Running my hands through both of their hair, I shut my eyes as I drifted off to sleep, way too happy and tired to ask what this meant. All I knew is that I was more than hoping it would happen again.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Nanami losing it completely when (y/n) gets severely injured at Shibuya

Shibuya Arc scenarios that live in my head rent-free pt.lll

Part l with Gojo and Geto here Part ll with Toji here

Pairing: Nanami Kento x reader

Word Count: 2,3k

Synopsis: After receiving a message with your location, Nanami rushes to your side, showing no mercy with the man who laid his hands on you.

Warnings: I literally shed a tear while writing this so be prepared, sooo much hurt, comfort at the end, you wanted this and I wanted it too this is one of my favorite fics I have ever written

His gaze is empty as he stares down at the bloody shell of his friend. Severely injured by multiple blade slashes, completely covered in his own blood, his life hanging on a thin thread.

“You have some nerves…”, he mutters.

Nanami clenches his hands into fists. Whoever did this will pay for it with his own life, he will make sure of that. But right now he has to get his friend out of here, provide him with better medical treatment, check on the other assistants, make sure that they are alright, eliminate whatever is responsible for Ijichi’s condition. What if that thing hurt the others too? Fuck, how the hell did all of this happen? And where the hell are you?

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

His heart sinks when reality starts to hit him.

You.

You were also stationed here. After all, you aren’t a jujutsu sorcerer but a skilled combat fighter with impressive powers. You were right here, right here with Ijichi.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His strong arms lift Ijichi’s numb body up with ease, thoughts racing. If something happened to you, if these fuckers harm a single hair on you…

He runs as fast as he can, fueled by nothing but thick fear and all the emotions that wash over him like a wave. He might lose it all. His friend, everyone else, you. The love of his life, the only woman who truly fascinates him, his best friend. And he hasn’t even told you all that. No, Nanami never shared his feelings with you, not when his fear of losing you is so great. But right now, with the death of his friend in front of his blank eyes, it dawns on him.

After this night, he might lose you forever.  

“Please be alright, I’m coming for you (y/n).”

-(y/n)'s POV-

Your whole body burns like a thousand fires, blood soaking your black suit. Everything aches, you feel like fainting, your sword lifelessly lays on the crimson floor. Is this really how your life comes to an end? Through the hands of someone like him?

“You fucker”, you spit out along with some blood, fists still ready to hit him again.

“Huh, why so rude? I’m just playing a little”, he replies sweetly before beating you in your guts again, his blade narrowly missing you.

It can’t go on like this, you can’t take any other hit. Your puny figure lands on the floor harshly, body desperately screaming at you with every fiber.

But you can’t stop now. After all, Nitta and all the other assistants are relying on you. Right now, you have to be your own hero.

“Standing up again? I’m starting to get bored to be honest. Why can’t you just die already?”

One moment of inattention. One second of giving in to your pain is enough for him to stab his blade through your shoulder, slicing your flesh open with ease. You see stars, the overwhelming pain that starts to radiate through your entire body simply takes your breath away. All you can do is stare at him with wide eyes while a silent scream escapes your lips.

You’ve had so much planned. Damn, you wanted to finally confess your feelings to him. Nanami Kento, the man you admire more than anyone else on this planet, the man that showed you there’s still class, who gets on his knees when talking to you, who makes sure you feel save whenever he’s around. God, how much you love him.

Your face hardens in determination. No, you can’t die without at least telling him once about your true feelings towards him.

With a swift motion you steady yourself again before kicking him with so much force that he crushes into the wall backwards, laughing hysterically.

“Finally you show me what you’ve got!”, he screams out in please while you pant hard.

It’s obvious that you don’t have much left, hanging on a thin string. The amount of blood you’ve lost due to your countless wounds is critical, you don’t need Shoko to know that. If help doesn’t arrive soon, you’ll die right here.

You could call him. Nanami’s number is just one swipe of your finger away. You could call him and tell him where you are, that you’re in big trouble and that you need him just like he told you.

“(y/n), if anything goes wrong, don’t hesitate and call me. I can’t afford to lose you. Promise me to look after yourself.”

He stared so intensely at you back then, his words made your heart skip a beat. But you can’t call him. After all, Nanami is on a much more important mission with countless life relying on his broad shoulders. It would be selfish to expect him to save you while so many people are dying.

“I’m sorry, Kento”, you mumble to yourself, voice nothing more but a fade away whisper.

No, don’t cry right now, don’t let the enemy see that you suffer. Nanami wouldn’t want you so feel this way. Stand your ground one last time, fight back as hard as you can.

One last distress signal. One last way to warn and protect the rest of the team.

“I’ve told everyone where you are, moron”, you shout at him, a maniac grin plastered on your face.

“Ow, how nice of you! Then I’ll hang your body up uhm…right there so they can see you when they come here!”, he remarks with sparkling eyes.

“I’d love to see you try”, you bark back.

-Nanami's POV-

“It’s (y/n)’s location”, Nitta huffs while Nanami bandages Ijichi up and Nobara is busy contacting help.

His heart stops for a second. This means you’re still alive and able to use your phone. But why would you send your location?

“She must have found something…”, Nanami ponders out loud.

“Do you think she needs help?”

Nitta’s voice echoes through his mind. To be honest, he doesn’t care about why you shared your location. All he wants to do right now is find and save you.

“You both stay here with Ijichi. I’ll go looking after (y/n).”

“Can I-“

“No”, Nanami immediately interrupts Nobara’s request.

“You stay here and wait for aid.”

And with that, he’s gone again, following your location blinking on his phone. Please be safe, please smile at him like you always do when you see him, eyes lighting up and making his heart melt. God, just be save.

His feet carry him to your location with ease but let him stop abruptly at the trail of blood in front of the building you are positioned in. Nanami feels like throwing up, the worst scenarios flooding his mind while he stares at the crimson colored floor. He should have accompanied you. No, he shouldn’t have allowed you to come to Shibuya in the first place.

With his head still spinning, he storms into the building and his world stops.

There you lay, in a puddle of your own blood, completely covered in bruises while a man raises his blade against you, just about to sink it into your precious body.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.”

That voice. That all too familiar voice that brings tears to your eyes. Is he really here? Did he get the notification? A single droplet rolls down your cheek while your hazy gaze meets his. He looks so different, absolutely threatening.

Nanami rolls up his sleeves and walks towards both of you. Fuck, you’ve never seen him like this, his aura almost suffocates you. It is clear that he’s absolutely furious.

“I’ll tell you one last time. Back off.”

“Or what?”, the man above you challenges.

“Or I’ll make you regret that you were born.”

His voice makes your blood freeze. As if in slow motion, Nanami loosens his tie and wraps it around his hand.

“Huh, you’re not wearing a black suit, but I guess I’m still allowed to ki-“

He isn’t able to finish his sentence. Nanami’s fist rushes forward in god-like speed, slamming the man off you, through the window, into the next building.

“I’ll be right back. Hold on, sweetheart”, he mutters.

With one last glance at you, he steps out into the cold night, only inches away from losing his temper completely. Who does this man think he is to lay is hands on you and his friends? This is unacceptable, this is unforgivable. Nanami will make him pay for every minor wound conflicted on your striking body, he will make him regret his whole life before ending it.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?”

It isn’t enough to only kill him. No, every single one of these fuckers will pay for what they did today. For killing countless assistants, for almost ending the life of his friend.

But most importantly, for hurting the love of his life.

“I don’t know!”, the man hollers at him, trying to slice him open unsuccessfully.

Nanami stares at him with dead calm eyes while he tries to hit him another time, his patience slowly starting to fail him.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?!”

His hands are clenches into tight fists. One more word. One more word of nonsense coming out of his mouth and he’ll kill him.

“I don’t k-“

Enough. One punch is enough to send that fucker through the next window.

You can’t help but admire the way Nanami walks up to him, his forearms flexed in a way you have never seen before while his broad shoulders seem to crush you with his confidence. He looks absolutely threatening, like a menace.

The blond-haired man tries to escape, but in the matter of seconds, Nanami grabs his ponytail and lifts him up.

“What’s the number and locations of your allies?”

You hold your breath, eyes wide open by the sound of his voice. This isn’t the Nanami Kento you know, the tender man with cool temper that never loses it. But oh, at the moment you feel like he’s possessed with the way his muscles flex underneath his shirt, the look on his face so furious that you have to swallow.

“I told you, I don’t kn-“

Another hit and the blonde lands on the ground, a dumb smile plastered on his face. You know that look all too well, he has planned something…Where is his blade?

There it is, on its way to slash Nanami open. You don’t hesitate. Despite the way your shoulder screams at you and begs you to stop, you grab your sword and throw it, deflecting his blade deftly just before it reaches Nanami while crying out in pain.

“You little bitch, stay out!”, he screams at you.

Nanami snaps. He grabs his throat roughly, chocking him without any mercy.

“You have some nerves, calling her a bitch when I’m standing in front of you. How dare you to even talk to her, to lay your hands on her body? On my way here, I found several of our assistant supervisors dead. That was you, wasn’t it? And now you dare to raise your voice against my girl?”

“I-I’m sorry”, the blonde stutters.

It happens faster than your tired eyes can follow. One last blow of Nanami’s fist sends the man out of the building, out of sight. This killed him without any doubt. Your eyes begin to water uncontrollably when a wave of relief washes over you. Despite all the blood you’ve lost, you’re alive. Nanami is here, he saved you.

“Don’t stand up, (y/n). You’re losing a severe amount of blood”, Nanami’s calm voice instructs before he kneels down in front of you.

“Kento”, you whisper his name like a prayer, tears rolling down your cheeks as the pain becomes unbearable.

“I know, sweetheart. You did really well, I’m so proud of you. Without your selfless efforts, he would probably have claimed even more victims. I still don’t call it good that you didn’t inform me about this situation.”

His hand caresses your bruised cheek gently, making you lose it completely.

“I didn’t want other people to get killed because you were busy with me”, you cough out.

“(y/n), no matter how critical the situation is, I will always look after you. You are the greatest treasure of my life and I…”

“I love you!”, you cry out, pressing your head against his head.

All these countless nights of dreaming about him holding you, all the stolen glances, the pondering. You just can’t take it anymore. Maybe it’s the blood loss or the immense pain that seems to speak out of you, but you’ve had enough. Fuck getting rejected or losing him because of your dumb feelings, you need him to know.

“I love you too, sweetheart. When I saw you laying here in your own blood I felt like dying myself.”

All you can do is stare at him through glossy eyes. Did this words really just leave his mouth? Of all the possible answers you imagined for this moment, “I love you too”, definitely wasn’t one of them.

“Let’s talk about this later, shall we? I need to get you out of here, you need medical attention”, he continues.

“I will pick you up now, okay?”

His hands glide under your knees and back, lifting your aching body up with ease and pressing your frame against his chest.

You groan out, hand cramping around his shirt.

“Thank you for saving me. And for loving me.”

His heart skips a beat, the lovely look on your distressed face almost making him forget how to breathe. How is it possible that a perfect human being like you loves someone like him? His arms wrap themselves tighter around your body.

“Don’t thank me for that, sweetheart.”

He will never let you go again. Not at Shibuya, not anywhere else.

[chucklee118]

I don't have the words (to tell you what you mean to me)

Summary: Momo's life has been action packed and often pretty scary for months. She thought she had her three most terrifying moments solidly ranked in her mind.

Watching Okarun crumple and fall like a soaked sandbag after taking a hit to the head-one that'd been meant for her-makes her reevaluate.

2878 words

Momo's leg bounces under her desk, teeth worrying at her bottom lip as she glares at the clock in the classroom. The teacher’s entire lesson just sounds like warbling to her; her brain marking everything in the world as a distraction save one.

Seeing Okarun as soon as school ended.

The further she gets into the school year and the more misadventures they rack up, the more she resents the fact that they’re in different classes.

The teacher hasn’t even reacted to the first chime for the end of the school day before Momo’s out of the room, skidding on the flat of her shoes to cut the sharpest turn possible and run down the hallway, her bag hanging as loose as an afterthought from her shoulder.

For all that screaming, running and fighting scary yokai and aliens had become a natural part of her day-to-day, the three most terrifying moments of her life had been set pretty solid in her mind: seeing Vamola get skewered by the globalists, her first meeting with the Serpos, and coming home to see Mr. Shrimp sitting over three people laid out and bloodied; and thinking that the one covered like a corpse had been Okarun.

She’d been forced to reevaluate after last weekend.

Because watching her best friend crumple and fall like a soaked sandbag after taking a hit to the head-a hit that’d been meant for her-and not move afterward had been even worse than finding out he’d been hurt when she wasn’t around to help him. It’d ripped something out of her soul, turned her blood to ice and crushed all the air from her lungs.

“OKARUN!”

She never wants to experience that feeling again.

After shoulder checking several startled students moving at far more leisurely paces, she catches the door jamb and yanks herself to a stop in front of his classroom.

There are other kids around his desk obstructing her view, but save the thick bandaging wrapped around his head, he’s not in any visible pain she can see. People who Momo bet wouldn't have talked to him before are asking questions about his head injury; Kinta’s just lapping up the attention by proxy, Vamola looks too stressed to be much help, and Okarun being Okarun, he’s too polite to tell them to piss off so he can rest.

“Hey.”

So, she does it for him; announcing herself to the room and walking in even while she’s catching her breath from the short sprint through the halls. He turns to her with a half-second delay compared to everyone else; a consequence of his concussion, probably.

She can see exact moment he recognizes her, though; those already-warm brown eyes turn impossibly warmer.

“Ayase-san.” He says softly.

Fuck, she loves him so damn much.

“C’mon,” she says, shoving past the onlookers to reach him and take his arm in a gentle grip. “Let's go.”

He immediately pushes his chair back to stand; a little too fast for his bruised brain, but she just tightens her hold on him to keep him steady so he can get his bag. She doesn’t let go even after the four of them have left the classroom, helping him navigate the crowded hallways.

“Takakura~!”

Aira and Jiji are waiting at the lockers by the front entrance; the former immediately gets a little too close to Okarun’s opposite arm.

“Don’t crowd him, skank.” Momo mutters without much heat or feeling behind it; as fun as riling up Aira is, she’s not really in the mood for it today.

The other girl ignores her in favor of simpering over Okarun. She must not be feeling up to it either.

“How ya holding up, buddy?” Jiji asks as they all walk out.

“I’m all right,” Okarun says. He readjusts his glasses. “It’s not as bad as”

“Don’t downplay it.” Momo cuts him off, with a bit more bite than she means to; still, she can’t stand him trying to brush this off, and she’s never been shy about letting people know when she’s irritated.

Okarun ducks his head a little, avoiding her eyes like he often does when he’s being scolded.

“Luckily it’s still Monday,” he says, changing the subject and nodding at Jiji. “I’ll rest as soon as I’m home so I’m ready for tomorrow.”

Momo tilts her head; it takes her a second to realize what he’s talking about. Tomorrow’s Tuesday. She clenches her jaw.

“If Evil Eye wants to fight you, he’ll go through me first,” she almost growls. She rounds on Okarun again, glaring. “And you’re not going home, mister; you’re coming with me!”

She can feel eyes drawing in on their group, her in particular; she may have been a little louder than she thought. She’s certain people will be talking about them again tomorrow, but she couldn’t give less of a shit about rumors right now.

Okarun’s more important.

—————

Okarun doesn’t put up much resistance to her insistence that he’s going to stay at her place. Momo might not know all the specifics of his home life, but the fact that it’s never even come up despite that he’s left the Ayase household in borrowed clothes, bruises and bandages multiple times just reinforces her belief that she can take better care of him than what he’d get at home.

That said. . .

“Uh, A-Ayase-san. . .”

He makes a little fuss after dinner, when Momo makes clear that he’s not shacking up in the guest room. Despite all they’ve been through, and the fact that he’s been here multiple times, he still hesitates a bit at the doorway to her bedroom. Normally, Momo finds it kind of endearing that he’s such a gentleman, but worry makes her impatient, and she’s not above bullying him a little until he complies, even if he’s hurt.

“Move it, dork,” she says, shoving him inside; he goes more easily than he usually would, but thankfully manages to keep his feet. She points around the room. “Sleep clothes are in my closet. You know where the bathroom is; red toothbrush is the spare. I’ll be right back.”

She walks back downstairs to give him time to change and get a couple water bottles from the kitchen. She vaguely remembers that hydration’s important in handling injuries, but she’s not sure that applies to blows to the head, let alone ones that have long stopped bleeding. Still, it can’t hurt to have them on hand in case Okarun wakes up thirsty.

She’s idling and trying to think of anything else he might need when her grandmother catches her.

“Hey, Momo. If you’re gonna put four-eyes in your bed, better not let me find out about it.”

She hears Turbo Granny gagging in another room.

“Don’t say shit like that just after I’ve eaten!”

Momo glares at them, stomping out of the kitchen toward the stairs and shouting as she goes.

“As if I’d do anything to a patient!”

She willfully ignores the heat blooming up from her neck.

Momo wants Okarun as close as possible because she’s concerned; her unreasonably massive crush on the guy is totally irrelevant!

Well. . . mostly irrelevant.

Fuck, now she’s thinking about it.

“Dammit, granny.” She mutters, standing in the hall outside her door.

“Ayase-san?”

Okarun’s voice, muffled on the other side of the door, calls to her. She shakes her head and wills her blush to go down.

“Yeah,” she says, one hand on the door. “You decent?”

“Y-yes!” He answers in that nervous way that she knows means he’s adjusting his glasses; not because he needs to, just to hide his face.

He looks. . . distractingly soft. He’s worn her clothes before, and she his a few times, but that’d been mostly out of necessity and in situations when other urgent stuff had been on her mind. Her oversized shirts don’t quite swallow him up like they used to when they first met, but it still gives him the sight-feel of someone she’d really enjoy cuddling.

And his natural curls are already pretty destructive on that front by themselves.

“Ayase-san?” He asks, pink dusting over his nose and cheeks from the fact she’s been staring at him for eight uninterrupted seconds.

Startled, she hucks the water bottles at him and stages a tactical retreat into the bathroom; with the excuse that she’s getting herself ready for bed, though mostly to keep herself from doing something stupid.

Like smooshing his face between her hands and gushing about how fucking cute he is.

“Dammit granny.” She mutters again.

—————

“What’re you doing?”

After changing, brushing, and internally debating whether or not she’d suffer through wearing a bra to bed–she trusts Okarun far too much to bother, which just means she’ll have to make sure she wakes up before he does–she steps out of the bathroom to find him still on the floor, a futon halfway unrolled.

He blinks at her.

“Preparing a futon. . . ?” He says, with an intonation that makes it sound like a question. “Am I not sleeping in here?”

“Yeah, not on the floor,” she says. “You’re in bed with me.”

She can hear the gears in his head stutter. His whole face erupts in red.

“Wh-wh-what?! Ayase-san, I can’t–that’s not–!”

“Not what, huh? You got a problem?”

“It’s not proper! I don’t–!”

“I don’t give a shit about proper! What, you don’t want to?”

“Why do you want me in your bed?!”

The argument, as sometimes happened with him, had emboldened Okarun; he never would’ve been able to ask that sort of question normally.

Momo snaps at him.

“Because I’m still mad at you!”

Okarun’s mouth opens, but no retort comes out. The tension in his shoulders deflate, and he’s left standing there blinking at her.

It’s not how Momo envisioned the night going, but it’s the truth. Between finishing the fight and making sure he was okay, and the wave of relief that followed, she never really got the chance to be upset.

But they’re alone now, and that lidded frustration is boiling over. She stomps over to her bed and hurls back the covers; folds her arms and glares at him.

“Bed.”

His eye flickers toward the mattress before falling back on her. He’s still reluctant; the state he’s in, she could easily wrangle him with her powers, but she really wants him to choose to join her.

She breathes a shaky sigh; forces herself to keep eye contact even as her toes curl.

“It’s not just cause I’m mad,” she says, going for honesty a little more naked than she’s used to. “I want you here. . . please.”

Her ears burn, but she holds her gaze steady. She doesn’t want him to misunderstand this as teasing or something he has to endure because she’s upset. Her Okarun has always been the first to apologize; at times, she thinks he’d apologize for his very existence if it meant he could keep his friends, if it meant he doesn’t have to go back to being lonely and ignored.

She needs this sweet boy to understand how much he matters to her, whether or not she’s angry with him.

Okarun ducks his head, shrinking in one himself a bit but shuffling over to her bed nonetheless. He gingerly sits on the edge, hands clenched over his shirt like he’s trying to avoid touching her bed as much as possible.

Momo can’t help rolling her eyes at his hangups; she puts her knee on the bed, such that her calf is pressing against his thigh. He nearly jumps back up; if not for her hand on his shoulder, he might have.

“C’mon, scooch.”

Finally, he puts his hands on the bed, pushing himself back to the side facing the wall; he looks up at her with wide eyes. A face Momo hopes reflects anxiety, if not anticipation, rather than wariness. She wants him to listen to her, not get scared or stressed out.

Momo leans forward and reaches a hand out to his face; slowly, giving him plenty of time to react or otherwise say no, she touches the frame of his glasses.

She feels his nervous breath on her wrist; she’s glad she typically wears long sleeves to bed that can hide her goosebumps. Gently, she lifts his glasses off his face.

She tilts her head, taking him in. He’s not any less handsome with the glasses on, but the novelty of seeing him without them is striking.

It occurs to her, then, how little they’ve talked today despite her all but cuffing him to her all afternoon and evening. Shit, she hopes the silence on his end isn’t related to his injury.

“You look different without your glasses,” she says, struck by an impulse to try reclaiming their usual rhythm. Okarun ducks his head again, and she quickly adds. “Not in a bad way.”

He peeks up at her through his lashes, a tiny smile on his face that threatens to push her into cardiac arrest. She tears her eyes away, carefully folding the arms of his glasses and stretching to place them on her bedside table and turn off the light.

“Lie down.” She says, tugging the covers out from under his feet and holding them up.

He slides onto his side, canting back until his head rests on her pillows. He immediately looks back at her again, as if waiting for a cue; lying too stiffly to possibly be comfortable. The moonlight peeking through her curtain reflects off the bandaging around his head, giving her slight illumination to see his face even in the dark.

His curls look even softer in the dim light, practically begging her to touch them.

So, she does, running her fingertips over Okarun’s forehead and carding them through his hair; careful that she doesn’t apply any pressure that might aggravate his injury.

“That was a bonehead stunt you pulled.” She says quietly but firmly.

She feels Okarun shiver as she lightly scratches his scalp.

“Is that why you’re angry?” He asks in a small voice.

She tugs on a bouncy lock in reply.

“You really scared me, dumbass.”

“. . . I’m sorry.”

Momo frowns. She knows he’s apologizing for scaring her, not for taking the hit. Because he’s Okarun, too kind for his own good.

She sighs.

“Does it still hurt?”

Okarun doesn’t answer right away; his eyes are already half-lidded, head sinking into her pillows.

“Not. . . at all.”

Whether or not he’s just saying what she wants to hear, he’s clearly more fatigued than he otherwise would be; his voice barely more than a whisper, humming a little when she brushes his bangs back from his forehead.

Momo stretches out beside him; she’d prefer to hug him, but he might actually implode if she does that and he needs the rest. She settles for finding his hand and taking it in hers under the covers.

She closes her eyes, tracing the lines of his palm with her nails and forming a mental picture. His hands are unexpectedly soft for the most part, but there are a few small, rough calluses developing on the pads of his fingers; a result of his strength training, one of several. She’s caught him performing on par, if not better than, most of the school’s runners when his class takes P.E. outside. And she’s not the only one who’s noticed.

Between Vamola’s transfer and his sudden athleticism, Okarun’s no longer the invisible otaku in school. Momo’s glad he isn’t being ignored, but annoyed that they’re only paying attention to such a great guy for such superficial reasons.

She knew how cool her Okarun is back when he didn’t have any stamina to speak of; even then, she trusted him to have her back.

The fact that some of the attention on him comes from girls also chafes at a less-than-pretty part of her that she doesn’t want to admit to, let alone examine.

Momo cracks her eyes open, peeking at Okarun’s sleeping face; listening to his breathing, feeling the slow and steady pulse in his wrist. She soaks in his presence, the tension she’s been holding since he got hurt finally settling.

Three short words are sitting on the tip of her tongue, threatening to spill over the next time she opens her mouth; it’s not the first time. The note she left with the curry had been the closest she’s gotten to saying them, but they’ve been there for a long time.

She won’t wake him up to say them; not after she just scolded him for being a reckless, self-sacrificing moron. She tamps them down, stemming her overflowing affection by lacing her fingers together with his; turning his hand up so his knuckles are facing her. His knuckles littered with small scars that he gathered in a short time, because he had to learn how to fight suddenly and quickly. Fight to survive; fight to save people.

Fight to protect her.

Momo brushes her lips over Okarun’s hand; the dark lending her courage, she murmurs into the warmth of his skin.

“Don’t get hurt for me, okay?”

She thinks, as she begins to drift off, that maybe she’ll greet him in the morning with those three words she’s been holding onto.

Imagining his reaction makes her smile.

[sweetnothingtm]

do you have any Ghost headcanons? 👻 in and outside the job

yes! sorry let me wipe the drool from my chin bc I’m obsessed w this man

☠︎︎ simon is lowkey a neat freak and cannot sit still. if he's not working then he’s cleaning or giving you all his attention.

☠︎︎ when he is working, simon is quite literally a ghost. doesn’t answer text messages, phone calls, and certainly doesn’t lose focus. but he carries a picture of you everywhere he goes

☠︎︎ that being said he will call you persistently throughout the night. he can’t go to bed without hearing you moan his name!!

you can fall asleep on me, love. i won’t take it personally - unless you dream about someone else.

i’m always dreaming of you, simon.

☠︎︎ absolutely showers you with love and attention when he’s back from work!! simon will never get caught giving no effort in your relationship

☠︎︎ doesn’t talk about work outside of work. you can tell when things bother him, but it’s best to greet him with a bright smile and a warm meal than try to coax it out of him.

☠︎︎ simon is so well put together and organized that you don’t worry about a single thing with him.

groceries? he’s got it. laundry? folded and put away. dishes? drying on the counter, sweetheart. absolutely dotes on you and wouldn’t have it any other way.

☠︎︎ at first you don't really know what he does... it's an awkward 7-month situationship where he wants to fuck you and you're trying to see if he's a walking red flag. he finally tells you his job after you find his baclava stuffed in his bags.

☠︎︎ you do meet his friends, it's just on a random night when you run into simon at the bar… the boys are all instantly obsessed with you and simon absolutely hates it.

simon told you he gave everyone a lecture that night about “minding their own bloody business”

☠︎︎ he also reads, like a lot. he falls asleep reading when he’s not at home. for him it’s a way to wind down and relax, but you both have started to trade books now and he always teases you for your choice in books…

☠︎︎ simon works long hours and you don't see him for days on end, but he always makes it up to you with expensive dates and doting on you!!

[m0nsterqzzz]

•A Sense of Impending Doom•

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

summary: being forced to go to a Stark party, you just pray the last person you want to see, doesn't come up to you.

warnings: really shitty angst?, cussing, alcohol

a/n: I've never wrote angst so sorry if this is so terrible lol. I don't think I wrote pronouns like once and I used, "they" so other then that, gender neutral. let me know if its not

With a heavy sigh, you exit the elevator and into the huge room. There are colorful lights all over, and you slightly hear someone singing I Wanna Dance with Somebody over the loud talking of the party guests.

When you got the invitation to yet another Stark party about a week ago, you instantly threw it in the trash. You’re trying to put your Avenger days behind you after your breakup with one of them, but Tony has never been able to catch a hint. The next one came from a text from Steve, where your best friend tried to convince you to come with the promise, “Natasha won’t be there.” You know that’s not true, so you left the man on read until he changed the subject. Then Yelena literally came to your apartment, and the young woman literally wouldn’t stop “Rockin Around the Christmas Tree.” until you agreed to go. Random, but effective.

So here you are, all dressed in a fancy outfit and flask of vodka in hand. Of course Tony always provides drinks, but this was for the cab ride to the Compound. 

You catch Tony’s eye from across the room, but he looks too far gone for you to even get a full conversation with him right now so you instead look around for anyone else. Suddenly, you're being picked up by two strong arms, and you instantly reach back to elbow them in the face. A harsh reaction, but Natasha would definitely be proud at the groan the person releases after months of trying to teach you self defense. Your attacker drops you on your feet, and you turn to see Bucky wincing as he holds his bloody nose. You let out something between a gasp and a laugh and Bucky glares at you.

“I’m sorry Buck! I thought you were attacking me!” “Why would someone attack you here? You’re literally surrounded by Avengers!” He makes a valid point, and that’s what you voice as you walk him to the bar to get the first aid kit always kept behind it. You guys learned your lesson after having to go search for one every time Tony drunkenly gets hurt and bleeds all over his nice rugs on the floor of the party room. 

You try your best to clean up the blood and fix his nose, but something- or should I say someone catches your attention and you drop the flask you're holding in your hand. The metal makes a loud noise as it clatters against the ground, but you pray it’s too loud for your discretion to notice. Your prayers are not answered. 

The woman a few feet away turns to face your direction, you pretend you don’t notice as the redhead gulps down her drink and continues staring at you even when you go back to fixing Bucky's nose.

“Natasha?” Bucky asks, and you sigh as you nod. “She’s staring. Get her to stop Buck.” He just chuckles and shakes his head. “What do you want me to do? Go over to her and demand she look somewhere else?” “Exactly!” You both laugh, and you give him a soft kiss on his forehead when you're done with his nose. The blood is mostly gone, and you know his super soldier serum will heal the rest of his nose in the next few weeks. He gets up, walking behind the bar and slinging a towel over his shoulder as he pretends to be your bartender, “What can I get you tonight?” You give him your order, and watch as he stares at you for a few seconds before you both burst out laughing. “I don’t know how to fucking make that! How about a glass of whiskey? Or two? Or five?”

Bucky is your best friend next to Steve and Wanda. Nobody can really tell why, but everyone knows it’s still a great pair even if you two don’t seem like people who would usually be friends.

You nod, and he pulls out the bottle of whiskey before someone takes it from his hand. You both turn to face the person stopping you from enjoying alcohol and your eyes widen. Natashas standing there, and her raspy voice that used to be your favorite speaks to Bucky. “I know what they're talking about. I’ll make it.” You plead for him to stay with your eyes, but he just hands her the bottle and leaves. Traitor. 

You met Natasha when you were recruited for SHIELD and she was your partner before she was ever your girlfriend.

She doesn’t say anything for a while as she makes your drink, but when she's done she sets it in front of you and asks, “How are you doing?” Is she serious? You think, and it’s clear she knows that as she grimaces at her own words. “I’m alright.”

You’re not alright. You haven’t been alright from the day you came home from work to find Natasha standing outside your front door with a suitcase by her side. You haven’t been alright since she mumbled, “I’ve never really loved you.” You haven’t been alright since the day Natasha Romanoff broke your heart and left you sobbing in the hallway in front

 of your apartment's front door.

She doesn’t need to know any of this though.

She nods, starting to awkwardly hum along to the song playing. There was never an awkward moment between you and the ex- assassin when you guys were dating, but with the feeling surrounding you right now, it feels like that's all that’s ever been between you two.

She suddenly starts to speak, but three loud voices boom from behind you before she can. You spin on your seat, and you come face to face with three of your favorite people. 

Maria Hill, Thor Odinson, and Tony Stark. 

They all look plastered, and Tony stumbles closer to you to put his arm around your shoulder. Your suspicions are confirmed true when you smell the alcohol reeking off of his breath as he leans down to whisper- quite loudly- in your ear, “You and Natasha huh? Yall getting back together? That sounds like it’s time to throw another party, baby.” You cringe, pushing him away from you as both you and Natasha look at anything but each other.

Thor and Maria drunkenly giggle behind him, and you reach out to pinch Thor’s arm as hard as you can. He shrieks, practically jumping a foot in the air as he backs away from you slowly.

Tony looks at you expectantly and you sigh. You are definitely going to beat the crap out of him 

“No way in hell-” You start

“Well maybe-” She speaks at the exact same time.

Your eyes widen, and anger flashes through you at the look of pure sadness in her eyes. “What the fuck do you mean “maybe”?” She looks taken aback at your outburst, and so do the three behind you as they look at each other and begin stumbling away. 

She begins stuttering out an answer, but you’re continuing on before she can. “There is no maybe Natalia! You messed it up!” People are beginning to stare at this point, and Natasha nervously looks around as she mumbles, and you can hear it now that someone has turned off the music, “I’m sorry.” You scoff.

“You broke my heart and the only thing you can think to say is sorry?” The redhead sighs, looking at the drink on the counter that is now covered in condensation. “I’m really, really sorry.” It’s silent for a minute, until you speak harshly, “Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault for not listening to the people that told me loving you was a bad idea.” Your words cut deep inside her, but she knows she deserves them.

When you first started dating, all her and your friends were thrilled. They were so happy for you guys. But they were also nervous. Your friends had concerns about her job and how safe you’d be with her- but you reassured them with the knowledge that there has never been a day you didn’t feel safe with her. Because she was your protector. At the time at least. And her friends have sat you down when she wasn’t around, telling you they were scared her being unable to show/control her emotions would take a toll on you. But it was easy to prove to them it would be alright, as they watched the way you slowly melted Natasha’s cold stone heart. In fact, you’d never once seen the side of her they spoke off. Well, until the day she left. When she asked you, “Who could ever love a person like you?” It was clear it was rhetorical, but you couldn’t think up an answer even if you wanted to.

You can hear Tony trying to figure out how to get the music going again, but other than that, the only sound that fills the party room is silence. 

“Don’t you understand how much it hurt to let you go? You were the best partner I ever had. both in my career and in relationships.” You let out a laugh at her words, and it turns into a genuine cackle even while everyone looks at you like you're insane. She looks up from the counter and speaks loudly over your laugh, “I had to do it okay?! I had to!” “You don’t have to do anything Natalia!” She sighs, looking towards Clint who stands near the bar. He nods his head to the green eyed girl, and she takes a deep breath before revealing quietly,

“I still love you. And I want to try us again.”

Her words make you freeze, and you look to your best friends with tears in your eyes. “What?” She thinks you just didn't hear her, so she repeats, “I still love you.” You shake your head, slowly backing up from the bar. She comes around the counter, and you back up even more as she tries to take your hands in her own. “N-no. You don't love me.” “I do. I love you darling.” “Don't do that Nat…..please don't do that to me.”

You both stop, and you shake your head when she goes to caress her face. “You wouldn't have left me if you love me, Nat. You don't love me.”

You both stop walking, and the party music suddenly turns on, as if a ending to your conversation. A single tear falls down her face, and you fight the urge to wipe it away.

This time, when you begin walking away, Natasha doesn't follow.

[the-grimm-writer]

Toxic

You thought you knew what you were getting into when you got into a relationship with Keisuke. Turns out you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. 

Commission for my lovely friend Sheer!!

Tw: Typical canon violence, forced relationship, biting, Baji and all his friends are a bunch of bullies.

Everyone is 20+

You thought you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be Keisuke’s woman. The life he lived was a fast one and he had sold you on it. Late night rides on his motorcycle, clinging onto him so you didn’t fall off whenever he sped up as fast as it would go. Running and hiding from the police, your heart pumping in your chest as you wildly kiss one another after almost getting caught. Getting into fights with rival gang members. It wasn’t often that you’d have to fight yourself, but whenever you did, he would swear it was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

What you weren’t prepared for was the man himself. Despite the life he lived you often forget that Keisuke Baji was dangerous, a red flag wrapped up in a pretty package. He enjoyed violence more than the average person. You learned that the hard way when he started swinging on a man for “looking at you the wrong way.” 

No matter how many times you told him to stop and he swore he’d never do it again, it still continued. You’d reached your wits end when he took you to his meetings. 

An underling, someone who must have just joined, made the mistake of sauntering over to you. He was barely able to get the cheesy pick up line out when he was yanked back by the collar and slammed into the ground. 

The leaders didn't seem to mind, just staring at him with a bored expression as you backed away in horror. Baji was on top of the guy, hitting him until his knuckles were bloody. 

You looked around in shock but nobody else was batting an eye. You shook your head, disappointed, you were about to leave when one woman pulled you back. “Don’t do that.” She whispered in your ear, putting her hand on your shoulder. “It will only make it worse.” 

Just like your man, many of the other gang members liked to show off their women at the meetings. When you weren't sitting on Baji's lap, you were talking to them. It was the only sense of normalcy you got since you began dating him. 

Even with his wild brown eyes and sharp fanged teeth, he managed to charm everyone around you. You couldn’t exactly blame them, you fell for it when you first met him too. All your friends thought he was the perfect boyfriend and didn't mind how much time you spent with him, often encouraging you too. 

Baji had a strict mother, so when he truly wanted to, he knew how to make a good impression on parents, make them believe he was the best match for their little girl. 

Your arguments increased after that night. About whether you'd continue to go with him to meetings or not. Now it was time for another one, and you were standing in your room glaring at each other. 

“That’s it! Im not going to your stupid meetings anymore! We are over!” You yelled at him. “I’m breaking up with y-” 

His hand was wrapped around your throat before you could finish your sentence. “You are getting dressed and we are going to that meeting, do you understand?” You stayed silent, glaring up at him. His hold on your throat tightened when you tried to push him away. “I said. Do. You. Understand?” 

Realizing it wasn’t worth the fight, you begrudgingly nodded your head. “Good girl.” He smirked, leaning down and pressing a kiss on your lips. “Get dressed. 

He paraded you around like a trophy. It was something you hadn’t realized at first. Often he made you wear his jacket with the gang’s symbol on it. You used to think that it was because he didn’t want you to get cold, but now you know he only did it because he wanted everyone to know that he had a claim on you. 

This time, Baji refused to let you leave his side. As you walked past the other women, all you could do was share sympathetic looks. When he sat down, you immediately got on his lap. 

You took a shaky breath and leaned against him, his arm lazily draped around your waist. On the outside, you looked normal. Like you hadn’t tried breaking up with him earlier. 

Not that his friends cared, you thought begrudgingly. They wouldn't betray their friend for you. Then there was the worst of them all. His best friend and the leader of the gang. 

“Well, aren't you a cute couple?” Mikey teased, making you tense up as Keisuke chuckled. “But I’d keep her at home next time. There’s going to be a lot of dangerous men at this meeting, and we wouldn’t want them getting the wrong impression and try to snatch her up now would we?” You tensed up as you looked at him, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. That asshole, he knew exactly what he was doing. Actually, they all knew what he was doing. They didn’t care. Hell, some of them even encouraged it right in front of your face like just now. 

Your eyes narrowed at him as Mikey walked off, which of course Keisuke immediately took notice of. 

"Hey." He growled, tone low as he spoke to you. "What did I tell you about the dirty looks? Cut it out. Besides, Mikey's right. Important men will be coming so behave yourself." 

"Oh so it's okay that you beat up anyone who flirts with me but a look is where you draw the line?" Despite your annoyance, you kept your voice down so no one noticed. 

“Do you want me to be like those other guys?” He said softly to you as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, making you gasp when he bit down on your sensitive skin before he pulled away. “You want me to be rough? Want me to fuck you like a little whore in front of everyone?”  

"Fine." You snapped back. "I'll be good." 

So you smiled, being polite every time someone walked over to the both you. Of course you kept your answers short, lord knows how Keisuke would react if he thought you were being too friendly.   

Cold dread washed over you as you realized, even if you weren't a member of the gang you were still stuck in it. 

[lily-fics-11]

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 6 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here

Tag list: @avocifera, @academiareid, @fictionalgap @dynsdiary @sndixz @athenalive @lamoobsessions @eloud12

(feel free to comment to be added to taglist)

The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 6

Isabel and Brittany question you about Hazel. Your best friends can’t help but try and push you and Hazel together, and it seems to be getting to your head. It almost seems like Hazel is treating you like more than a friend?

Word count: 4.2k

CW: Profanities, not beta read

It’s Saturday night, at Brittany’s house, with her and Isabel. Brittany is painting your nails your favorite color when she notices the beaded bracelet on your wrist.

“H?” she questions. “Why the letter H?”

“Oh. The H. It’s for Hazel, actually,” you explain, avoiding eye contact and praying your face isn’t flushed.

“Are you guys like-” Isabel starts with clear excitement but you cut her off. “No, it's not like that. Like at all. Not even a little. We were always best friends, and now we are again.”

“Ok, fine, I guess. But we had no idea you two even knew each other until like a week ago. What happened between you guys because I’ve literally never seen you two interact with each other before now? Did you do something? Did she do something? Was it the both of you? Whatever happened had to have been bad, so why are things ok all of the sudden?” Isabel looks both confused and concerned. It makes sense why your best friend would be unsure of what to make of this confusing situation. You don’t even fully understand it yourself.

You take a deep breath before coming clean. “I’ve been in love with Hazel since middle school. But right when I realized I had feelings for her, she pushed me away, and I never knew why. I was in so much pain so I forced myself to move on. Make new friends, and eventually get into a relationship. But even though I had convinced myself otherwise, I’ve been in love with her the whole time. I found her bloody in the locker room after fight club one day and I couldn’t just leave her there like that. We ended up talking and reconnecting. I eventually confronted her, so she explained everything to me. I don’t want to share stories that aren’t mine to tell, but I will say that she just thought she was doing what was best for me. She apologized and I couldn’t help but forgive her. I know that Hazel never meant to hurt me, and I love her too much to pass up the opportunity to have her back in my life. All those years it felt like a piece of me was missing, and I finally had a chance to put things back together. I don’t have her the way that I want her, but it’s so much better than not having her at all.”

“Oh, wow.” Brittany takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you had been through all of that. But are you sure that this is worth it? Hazel is a sweetheart, and she would never do anything to hurt you on purpose, but are you going to be hurting yourself?” 

You run a hand through your hair and take a moment to think about it. This is kind of insane. You could potentially do some major damage to yourself. But there is nothing you want more than Hazel. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Well if that’s the case I’m really happy for you. You guys would be so cute together.” Isabel claps enthusiastically.

You shake your head no at her. “Isabel, please, don’t get my hopes up like that. I have no reason to believe that she feels the same way about me. If anything I’ve got far more evidence for her not seeing me like that. I think she’s just happy to be friends again.”

“Hazel mentions you in the notes like all the time. Like way more than anyone else.” Brittany grins mischievously. You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“The notes she takes every meeting and emails to everyone. Do you not get them?” 

You wrinkle your nose and furrow your eyebrows. “I get them. I never noticed it. I'm sure you guys are exaggerating and didn’t even think about it until now.”

Brittany laughs. “We have been suspicious since the first time we saw you guys together. Do you not know what you look like when you look at her? Haven’t you seen the way that she looks at you?”

Isabel is quick to add “you guys started driving to school together even though you love your alone time, and remember that night you hung out at her house? You didn’t answer your phone for hours and that is so unlike you.”

Before you even get a chance to defend yourself Brittany throws at you what she believes to be some hard hitting evidence. “I have seen you guys fight each other. The sexual tension is so obvious. I have never seen two people pin each other to the ground so much. Especially not with that hungry look in their eyes.”

You are at a loss for words, so you close your eyes and flop backwards to lay down. Isabel pokes your leg. You don’t open your eyes but that doesn’t stop her from asking “were you there the day we were talking about celebrity crushes?”

“Nope.” You hear her giggle. “Well I didn’t make the connection until now, but you know that actress that everyone says you look like? That’s Hazel’s celebrity crush.”

You open your eyes and sit up, feeling defeated. “I’m sure it is just a coincidence.”

“You can believe what you want, but I’m still going to be shipping you guys so hard!” Isabel squeals.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Isabel and Brittany were not kidding when they said they would be rooting for you and Hazel. You appreciate their enthusiasm, but you would be mortified if Hazel noticed them giggling and watching you stand next to each other at the next fight club meeting. Isabel and Brittany’s eyes light up when you and Hazel are paired up for a fight. Your friend's stares were burning holes into the back of your head when you were on the ground straddling Hazel’s waist. This is only going to feed into their delusions. It seems useless at this point to hope they keep their eagerness in check.

It didn't take long for them to try and set you and Hazel up with each other, they took the first chance they got. You were unaware of their scheming until they approached you and Hazel at the end of fight club to see if you guys would want to get ice cream all together. “A little sweet treat before we all have to study for that math test tomorrow,” Isabel offers with a smile.

Brittany makes an excuse to take you with her in her car. “You forgot your shirt at my house, I need to give it back to you.” There was no shirt. Brittany just wanted to prepare you for what definitely isn’t a date, even though she seems to think it is. 

Brittany glances over at you while she is driving. “Do you want to fix your hair?” She asks.

You squint your eyes at her. “Uhh.. why?”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “Don’t you want to look nice for your date with Hazel?”

That makes you laugh. “Brittany, it’s not a date if she doesn’t know that it’s a date.”

“You know what I mean. I have a hair brush in the glove box. There’s also some lipstick in there if you want to use it.”

“I’m not going to try and impress a girl who doesn’t want to be impressed”

“But isn’t it worth trying?” Without answering you pull the brush and lipstick out of the glove box and flip down the mirror. 

Upon arrival, you and Brittany meet up with Hazel and Isabel before going inside. You enter first and approach the counter to order. After scanning your options you tell your friends “I can’t decide between cookies and cream and chocolate chip cookie dough.”

“Hey same!” Hazel smiles at you. 

“If neither of you can decide between them, why don’t you just get both and share?” Isabel teases. God Isabel, right in front of Hazel?

“Oh… I, uh…” you begin but Hazel cuts you off. “Sounds like a good idea, right?” she asks expectantly. You just nod and force a smile. As much as you have protested it, you would love for this to be a date. But it's not, and you need to keep your expectations in check. Once the ice cream Hazel had ordered for the two of you is ready, you pull out your wallet only for her to step in front of you and pay for the whole thing without even asking. You blush and look away, accidentally making eye contact with Brittany who mouths “date” to you. Your palm meets your forehead. You really are grateful that your friends are trying to help you out, but you are going to have to explain to them that getting your hopes up will only make things worse in the end. 

You intentionally sit next to Hazel, it will feel less romantic than being across from her. Not being able to stare longingly into her eyes is for the best. However, that didn’t keep you from questioning Hazel’s every move. Yes you were sharing food, but why did she sit so close to you? Seats nearly touching, practically shoulder to shoulder, knees brushing up against each other if moving more than an inch. Even worse, why did she put her arm around the back of your chair everytime she sat back to talk? Hazel talks a lot. If you weren't paying attention she would do it without you realizing and her arm would end up slung around your shoulders. You would sit there, absolutely mortified, while Isabel and Brittany failed to contain their excitement, though Hazel was none the wiser. You did your best to avoid looking over at her, that award winning smile and warm gaze far too easy to get lost in. 

About halfway through the bowls of ice cream Hazel excuses herself to the bathroom. 

Once Hazel is out of earshot Isabel slams her hands on the table and leans forwards. “Sooooooo…”

“So what?” You sigh. 

“Come on, you know what she means,” Brittany crosses her arms and grins.

You put your hands up in the air like you have been cornered by the police. “I can’t say that I know what you guys are talking about.”

“This date!” The two yell in unison. 

“Oh my god guys, could you please keep it down? I hate to break it to you, but if Hazel and I are on a date, then you two are on a date with each other. Just two best friends, eating some ice cream, that's all.”

“You are sharing ice cream!” Isabel exclaims, gesturing to the bowl in front of you. 

You run your hands through your hair. “Because you suggested it.”

Brittany points to Hazel’s chair. “You guys are sitting so close together.”

“Well we're sharing the ice cream.”

“She keeps putting her arm around you!” Brittany sounds exasperated. 

“You can’t ignore the way she looks at you!” Isabel pleads.

You put your hands down on the table in an attempt to further assert yourself. “If you keep getting my hopes up it's going to hurt even worse when she finally gets a girlfriend or in some other way makes it clear that she doesn't feel the same way.”

Brittany looks so disappointed. “We wouldn’t be trying to set you guys up if we didn't think there was something there.”

“I want this so bad,” slips out of your mouth as wild fantasies dance through your head. 

“Maybe it's time that you give this a chance,” Isabel timidly suggests. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but only if she took the lead,” you admit, nervously twisting your bracelet and averting your eyes. 

Isabel and Brittany’s eyes wander behind you, so with panicked eyes you sharply run your hand past your throat, signaling that this conversation is officially being cut off. 

Even though there is no way she could have known what had been discussed while she was gone, you are paranoid that Hazel somehow heard everything. You worry that the feelings left behind are written all over your face. Fortunately,  nothing goes wrong as you all finish eating.

After cleaning up you are the only one to sit back down at the table. The other girls look at you, confused. You tilt your head back and groan. “I do not want to go home and study for this test. It's going to be miserable.”

“Well how much have you studied so far?” Hazel questions.

“Not enough,” you sigh. Hazel steps towards you and takes your hand. You can’t even imagine how unfortunate the look on your face is right now. She pulls you up to your feet. “Just think,” she tries to encourage you,”by this time tomorrow it will be over, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you are right.” You concede, expecting her to let go of your hand at that point, but she doesn't. Hazel holds your hand all the way to the car, and doesn’t let go until she has opened up the passenger side door and you have made yourself comfortable.

You can hardly believe it, but maybe Isabel and Brittany are onto something? Like this is absolutely mind boggling and insane. Is this even possible, or a mere delusion? Furthermore, are you actually starting to get your hopes up? You are playing a dangerous game, but you reap what you sow.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Last night you studied like your life depended on it, and it was exhausting. In the morning you hit the snooze button as many times as you can without the risk of being late, sacrificing a part of your morning routine each time you slammed on the button to make the blaring noise stop. In the end you walked out the door without a stitch of makeup in the sweatpants and sweatshirt you wore to bed.

You meet Hazel in your driveway. When you unlock the car’s doors she gets in right away. You open the door but stop to groan and pout. “I really don’t want to do this,” you whine to Hazel and she smiles and shakes her head. “Oh neither do I.”

“Then why don’t we just skip? We could stay home and binge watch something,” you suggest, half serious and half not. 

Hazel sighs. “I literally couldn’t want anything more.” Your breath hitches. “But, we both studied so much that it would be a waste to miss the test. Not to mention that your mom would kill the both of us if she found out that we skipped school.” Hazel leans over the center console and reaches her hand towards you. You take it and let her pull you into the car. You are very aware of how you keep finding your hand in hers. Are you unhappy about this test? Obviously. Are you slightly exaggerating because it means Hazel might hold your hand? That’s not even a question. 

You hesitate to start the car, so Hazel gently places her hand on your thigh. She tilts her head to the side, carefully observing you with a dreamy look in her eyes. Her hand placement was more than enough to snap you out of your mood. But the way she was looking at you? That just might make you risk it all. You fight off the urge to lean over and steal a kiss from the girl you love. 

When you turn the key in the ignition you are expecting Hazel to pull away, so you are pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. Previously, you would have shied away from moments like these, but Isabel and Brittany have really gotten inside of your head. 

“If you want you can come hang out at my place after school. We can watch an old movie.” Hazel proposes. 

You look over and meet her gaze and a smile spreads across your face. “I would love that.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Hazel catches up with you on the way out of class after your test, putting her arm around your shoulders, causing a shock to your system. Though it’s a pleasant surprise, it isn’t easy to play it cool.

“So, how do you think you did?” Hazel smiles at you, looking at your… lips? You look down at your feet because you fear internal combustion, though still able to feel Hazel’s lingering gaze. 

You are so nervous that you stutter when you answer her question. “I-I um think I actually d-did well. How about you?”

“I’m going to be honest, I was a little distracted. I was thinking about, well, things. But I still think I managed to pull it off.” Despite her claims of having been distracted, she sounds rather excited and you can’t miss the opportunity to see that look on her face, so your eyes wander back up to meet hers. That cute goofy smile is more than enough to put all the stress from this test behind you. In all honesty, Hazel could erase just about anything from your mind. You know that your own expression must be mirroring hers. “Well I’m glad that you made it through okay.”

Hazel nods at you. “I’ve got to go but I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah of course.” 

Hazel pulls away from you, running her hand down your arm. The light graze of her fingertips momentarily lingers on your hand before finally drifting away and waving as she walks off. Hazel continues to look back at you until she stumbles into someone and has to turn her attention ahead of her.

------------------------------------------------------------------

When you get to Hazel’s house Mrs. Callahan is delighted to see you, and invites you to sit down with her. Hazel rolls her eyes and leans against the doorway with her arms crossed. You smirk as an image of what Hazel would look like doing THE lean crosses your mind. When you sit down next to Mrs. Callahan she slides a magazine over to you. 

“I want you to have this. You don’t have to look at it now, but there is a spread that starts on page 17, it’s from one of my favorite designers and every outfit would look absolutely amazing on you! Check it out when you get the chance and definitely keep this in mind the next time you want to do some shopping.” Mrs. Callahan is beaming at you. Hazel has always been a tomboy so she loved talking about fashion with you and would join you and your mom on shopping trips.

You thank her and then Hazel clears her throat, so you start to get up.

“Can I ask you a quick question?” Mrs. Callahan asks.

“Of course.”

She leans and whispers, just low enough for Hazel not to be able to hear, “you’ve put that ex girlfriend of yours behind you, correct?”

Your eyes widen, taken off guard by the personal question. “Oh yeah, she's no longer a part of my life,” you explain, doing your best to keep your voice down because it’s clear she wants this conversation to be private.

Mrs. Callahan looks satisfied and you can only assume that your mother had divulged the details of your tumultuous relationship. She continues with her hushed tone “you deserve much better than the way that girl treated you, honey. I don’t think you will have to look too far to find the right girl for you.” 

“We should head upstairs,” Hazel calls over impatiently. 

“I’m actually heading out now. I won’t be back until pretty late.” Mrs. Callahan informs you. Hazel grumbles a goodbye and you wave before she walks out the door.

“I’m going to put my stuff in my room, I’ll be right back,” she tells you before disappearing up the stairs.

After entering the living room a feeling of nostalgia washes over you. There are so many memories here of blanket forts, movie nights, and playing games. After leaving your things in the corner you sit down all the way to the side of the couch, right up against the arm rest. It’s not long before Hazel appears in front of you, “Do you know what you want to watch?” You suggest a movie and Hazel thinks it’s a great idea. 

She takes a seat in the center of the couch, as if to give you some space, while also testing the waters of trying to get close to you. You aren’t quite sure how you feel about this yet, but decide to live in the moment. While looking at the tv, out of the corner of your eye, you see that Hazel is watching you. She looks a little dazed, eyes soft, biting her lip. When you look over to her she quickly snaps her head towards the tv.

The movie is lighthearted but anytime you and Hazel look at each other the eye contact is intense. Whether you are laughing at a joke or reciting a quote in unison you kept getting caught up in the moment. The part of the movie you were reacting to would pass, but you would still be gazing into her beautiful eyes, and she would be staring right back. Then, the two of you would realize what you were doing and regain your composure. 

You start to feel cold so you get up to get the sweatshirt you have in your backpack. 

“Where are you going?” Hazel questions, and you peer over your shoulder at her. There is disappointment in her eyes, seeing you walk away.

“Just grabbing my sweatshirt,” you reassure her.

“Are you cold?” She asks, looking concerned, and you nod your head. 

“I’ve got a blanket right here, if you want to use that instead,” Hazel offers, gesturing to a blanket hanging over the back of the couch. 

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” You take your spot back on the couch and Hazel passes you the blanket. 

“I think I’m actually cold too, would you mind sharing?” She inquires, fixing her hair even though it looks fine. 

You blink rapidly, a little taken back. “No, not at all.”

“Is it ok if I, uh, sit a little closer? It would be easier to share,” Hazel asks, looking down and fidgeting with one of her rings. 

You nod your head at her once again, feeling nervously excited. Hazel slides over and when she said close she meant close, she left no space between the two of you. Shaky hands drape the blanket across your laps. You feel your heart pounding in every part of your body. Isabel and Brittany’s idealistic thinking has infected your brain. Should you make a move to see how she reacts or wait and see if she does? You decide to wait and see if she takes any initiative. You meant it when you said you wanted 

Hazel doesn’t leave you waiting for long. She rests her arm behind you, on the back of the couch, like she is inviting you into her. You obviously take the bait. There was no space to close between you but you lean your weight into her and rest your head on her shoulder. Hazel then wraps her arm around your waist, holding you against her. It all feels like a dream, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her body next to yours. You are buzzing from the way her hand is firmly planted on your waist. Her voice is like a melody and her laugh is like a warm hug. You savor every moment with her.

After the movie is over, and you are getting ready to go, Hazel puts her hand on your arm. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what did my mom whisper to you earlier?”

“Oh, she just asked about my ex.”

“She asked you about what?”

“My ex.”

“Sorry, I heard you the first time, I just can’t believe she would bring that up, I told her not to.” Hazel sighs.

“What do you mean that you told her not to? Have you been discussing my love life Hazel Callahan?” You laugh at her. You aren’t mad, just intrigued.

“Your mom had told my mom about your break up, so she came to me to try and get more information. She was really worried about whether or not you were ok. I told her that I wasn’t totally sure, because we hadn’t talked much about it. But she knows that I wanted us to be, uh, friends again, so she was very hopeful that you were in the right place for us to start a- I mean start over. My mom would bring you up from time to time over the years, hoping we would be friends again. When I explained to her that it was hard to tell whether or not you were also in, uh, the right place for that, she told me that we are meant to be, I guess friends, so the opportunity would present itself.”

You smile, feeling a flush across your face, knowing that Hazel has always intended to get you back in her life. 

“Well, I am doing ok. I know a lot has happened between us, but I have a feeling that things are going to work out the way they are supposed to.”

[foliosriot]

SCREAM

ghostface!noah sebastian x reader

WARNINGS!!

talk of death and murder. brief knife-play. vaginal fingering. p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it, my friends). pre-kink. fear-play i guess. non-con but becomes con. please let me know if i missed anything else! 18+ only MDNI or i’ll block you.

TAGS!!

@starsomens @cncohshit @concretenoah + everyone else who didn’t know they needed ghostface!noah in their lives hehe

AUTHOR’S NOTE!!

happy halloween, my fellow noah whores >:)

masterlist

You will admit: the recent string of murders have had your guts twisted with fear and anxiety. Because what if it’s someone you know next? What if it’s one of your friends? What if it’s you?

It has been terrifying just trying to exist the past week and a half. Three people were already dead, and who knows when the next person would be found mutilated? The last one was just down the street from you, for fuck’s sake! What’s stopping that masked psycho from claiming every other life — including yours — on your street?

Nothing, you’re sure. Serial killers are hardly ever satisfied. And this one is absolutely fucking insatiable.

However, right now, it’s a little hard to think about a psychotic killer with your boyfriend looking the way he does. He’s standing in your little kitchen, a mug of tea in one hand, the other tucked into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea if you stay over, Noah,” you finally manage to say. Noah had asked if he could stay over for the night what felt like an eternity ago. You had struggled to comprehend what he had said, and were only able to respond when your best friend and roommate, Olivia, had walked up next to you.

“Why not?” Noah asks, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

“There’s a murderer on the loose, remember, dickhead?” Olivia snaps at him. “I would rather not come back to find my best friend all dead and bloody, then adding you into the mix just to make it worse.”

Olivia had a family reunion she had to go to, something that had been planned in advance long before any of the murders had taken place. She wasn’t able to get out of it, nor was she able to convince her parents to let you tag along, even though they love you like you were their own. She was heading to the airport later tonight and coming back in two days.

You watch Noah shoot a glare at Olivia as he says, “Yeah, I’m aware there’s a murderer on the loose. But I, also, would rather not come back here to see my girlfriend dead.”

As Olivia is clearly gearing up to launch herself into a heated debacle with Noah, you stop her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Guys, I’ll be fine,” you assure them, hoping they can’t hear the waver in your voice. “After I take Olivia to the airport I’ll lock the doors and windows, turn off all the lights, then sleep with my dad’s old baseball bat next to my bed. Besides, Noah has a label meeting early tomorrow morning, so he should just head home to get some sleep for once.”

Neither of them look particularly convinced. But the mention of the metal bat seems to be enough for their tense limbs to relax.

This is the exact reason your dad gave you his bat when you first moved out, anyways. He wanted you to be safe and to protect yourself in case of an emergency. And this seems to be an emergency worthy of the beloved metal bat.

Olivia sighs dramatically from beside you. “Fine. The bat is better than nothing.” She returns Noah’s glare. “You better be gone by the time we leave for the airport in an hour.”

Noah clenches his jaw. “Got it,” he says.

With an annoyed grumble, Olivia turns on her heel and stomps towards her bedroom. Your boyfriend and your best friend have never really gotten along, simply because they both want what’s best for you and they both tend to believe they know exactly what that is. They butt heads a lot when it comes to you. Thankfully, they know they can’t have you without the other, so it’s become a resigned acceptance between them, however uncomfortable they may be about it.

You are finally able to relax your shoulders after you hear Olivia shut her door with a loud thud. Olivia is very overprotective of you and would just have you attached at the hip if she could. But sometimes her worry is suffocating. Like now. So you know she just needs a few minutes to herself before she gets on her flight.

“Did you have to be such an asshole?” you say to Noah.

“How was I being an asshole?” Noah fires back as he sets his mug down by the sink.

“You never seem to know when to stop antagonizing Olivia.”

“Well, excuse me for being worried about your safety. She’s not the only one who gets a say in this shit.”

“And you do?” you scoff, resting your hands on your hips. “So would you be okay with me unlocking every door and opening every window? Turn on each light so I’m just a fucking beacon for the murderer to come and get me next?”

Noah narrows his eyes as he stares at you. You’re now beginning to forget any thought of a psycho killer, and instead thinking of letting Noah stay tonight anyways. Let him keep you safe while also letting him do whatever he wants to you. The idea is very enticing.

“But if you don’t want that to happen, just stay the night, ‘cause I know you want to,” you encourage Noah, a small smirk making its way onto your face. “You’ll still be there for the label meeting. Olivia doesn’t have to know. Come over and keep me safe.”

Silence falls around you. Noah just continues to look at you with a dark gleam in his eyes, and you can feel a white hot knot beginning to coil down in the depths of your stomach. You shift slightly under his gaze.

“You’re being a brat.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you spit at him immediately, knowing with 100% certainty that he is going to make you pay for that comment.

“I will if you stop being a fucking brat,” Noah counters sharply. “Unless you want to keep being one, and end up being punished for it.”

You remain where you’re standing. You have zero intentions on obeying Noah, nor do you plan on dropping the bratty act. Noah loves it when you’re being a bratty bitch and defying his orders, even if he doesn’t outwardly say it. You know what it does to him, so why stop?

“Stay tonight.”

Noah doesn’t say anything. His eyes remain fixed on you, and you can feel the searing sensation of his irises roving over every inch of your body. You shift once more, hoping he doesn’t catch the movement, but you know he does.

“Come here.”

His tone is almost casual. It catches you slightly off-guard that he appears to be mildly bored, when he would normally be demanding you to approach. But you’re feeling defiant, because what is he gonna do if he doesn’t get dominant with you?

“No, I’m okay,” you say with a sickly sweet smile. “I’m not feeling very passive at the moment. Thank you, though.”

That earns you a glare. You can see the way Noah takes a grounding deep breath as his gaze darkens even more. You watch him cross his tattooed arms over his chest as he settles his weight back against the kitchen counter. He angles his head downwards, his eyes still trained on you.

God, is he trying to scare you? Because if that’s the case, he needs to rethink his fear tactics.

“I’m not afraid of you, Noah,” you practically scoff at him.

“Have I ever given you reason to be afraid of me?” he asks lowly. The tenor of his voice hums in your ears.

“No.”

Noah doesn’t say anything in response. He just continues staring at you intently, his dark gaze fixed on you wholly. You aren’t able to detect any emotion in his eyes or facial features. If you couldn’t see the subtle rise and fall of his chest you’d think he were a statue — a man carved from marble with numerous, intricate paintings spanning across the beautiful stone.

As the silence drags on you begin to grow uncomfortable. Noah staring at you isn’t what’s causing you discomfort; no, it’s the anticipation and sense of the unknown he’s letting fall over you. You roll your bottom lip into your mouth and begin chewing on the skin.

But then the corner of his mouth twitches upward. The action is sly and riddled with intention.

“Then I won’t start now,” he finally says. “Unless you want me to.”

His word choice is deliberate, each one laced with a level of teasing you don’t think you have ever heard come out of Noah’s mouth. He knows what he’s doing. And he knows it is finally getting to you in the way he had initially wanted.

“So what’s it gonna be?” Noah asks. His voice is firmer as he speaks. “You gonna come over here like a good girl … or will I be giving you a reason to be afraid of me? Either way it’ll be worth it, I’m sure. But hey, your choice, princess.”

Now, there is the commanding voice you had been expecting from the start. And your heart is pumping uncontrollably now. The pulse buried beneath the surface of your neck is throbbing and vibrating, making the blood roar loudly in your ears.

He’s giving you an obvious choice: admit you were being a brat and surrender. Or, run like your life depends on it. Because it might at some point, in a manner of speaking, you realize.

“Oh, but I don’t wanna scare you too bad,” Noah continues nonchalantly, like he’s talking about the weather or something. “Especially with that psycho killer on the loose and everything, y’know.”

You’re gonna kill him. He’s being a complete ass but being so unreasonably cool and collected about it. He knows he’s getting under your skin, burrowing further beneath your veins and tendons. It has you growing enraged and annoyed with his antics, despite that searing hot coil deep in your belly.

When Noah casually pushes away from the counter, you stagger back a few steps. His grin slowly grows as he makes his way in your direction. Your feet seem to be glued to the floor as Noah is now towering over you.

“You’re gonna pay for that, by the way,” he murmurs. He brings his hand up to your face, and grips your chin between his fingers. “But not tonight. You said it yourself, princess: I have a label meeting early in the morning.”

Noah uses his grip on your chin to tug your face towards his. Your lips meet in the middle, and Noah already has his tongue in your mouth before you can process what’s happening. And you have half a brain to kiss him back, but he’s pulled away by the time you manage to catch up. You can’t control the whine that bubbles up from your throat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” Noah says with a grin. “I love you.”

Then he’s stepping out of your space and leaving through the front door.

He leaves you breathing heavily. You nearly sprint outside and stop Noah from leaving when you hear someone walking up behind you.

“Oh, good. He’s gone.” Olivia’s voice nearly startles you. “I’ve got my stuff ready so let’s just go now. I don’t wanna get stuck in traffic.”

You nod in acknowledgement, but your brain feels fried. Your entire nervous system just got short circuited because Noah thought it would be fun to mess with you. He knows you want him to stay over while Olivia’s gone. And, you know he wants to stay over. So why did he just blow you off like that?

You don’t give yourself time to think it over before you’re following Olivia outside. You let Olivia drown you in conversation on the drive to the airport. She doesn’t appear to notice your weird behavior, or, if she has noticed, she doesn’t mention it.

But then she’s getting out of the car with her bags and you’re hugging her and you watch as she walks inside the airport and leaves you behind.

You feel like screaming.

The drive home feels like a blur. You wish you would be arriving home to see Noah waiting for you, but the house is empty. Annoyance strikes your intestines as you do what you promised initially: lock the doors, close the windows, turn off all the lights, put baseball bat at bedside.

It still feels wrong somehow. You want Noah with you, even though he has that meeting very early in the morning. In order to remedy his absence you tug on one of his sweatshirts before climbing into bed.

The next day drags on. Olivia had texted you when her flight landed and when she was reunited with her family. Noah had sent a good morning text and nothing else. You were growing increasingly angry as the hours ticked by.

You were off work today, so you had the entire day to do what you want. But your brain was vibrating with anxiety and had you stuck on the couch. You were able to get through an entire season of your favorite show, though! It still didn’t feel right.

The sun had long since fallen beyond the horizon by the time you’re rummaging through the kitchen to find something to eat for dinner. You settle on making some mac ‘n cheese, and get to work.

You’re pouring the small pot of hot noodles and water into the colander that sits in the sink when the phone rings. Another thing your dad had insisted on when you moved out: a fucking landline phone. You thought it was ridiculous, but you had humored him anyways by getting one.

With the noodles in the colander and the hot metal pot set aside you reach for the phone. You press answer and stick it between your ear and shoulder as you continue making your dinner.

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

“Can I help you?”

“Who are you?”

“I dunno, who are you trying to reach?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay. Must be wrong number. Don’t worry — it happens.”

You’re quick to transfer the phone back in to your hand and end the call. Dialing the wrong number happens all the time, so the oddity of it doesn’t irk you.

Not until you have the mac ‘n cheese all ready a couple minutes later and the landline rings once more. You furrow your eyebrows as you go to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have dialed the wrong number again.”

It’s that same voice. There’s a familiarity to it you can’t quite put your finger on.

“It’s alright. I’ll let you go so you can try again. Third time’s the charm, right?”

You’re about to put the phone down when the person on the other end stops you, saying, “Wait! Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?”

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Just in case I accidentally call you again, of course.”

“Well, I’m confident you won’t. You’ve got this.”

“In the meantime, as I’m trying to remember the correct number, let’s play a game.”

You roll your eyes. “A game? Why?”

“‘Cause it’s fun,” the person says simply. “Plus, I think we’re friends now, so it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“I guess…”

“Good. Answer a series of questions correctly and you win. Answer incorrectly, and I win.”

“What does the winner get?”

“Whatever they want.”

You consider this for a moment. Because what’s the harm in answering some meaningless questions from a stranger? But you find yourself anxiously rethinking your decision even as you agree.

“Good. I’ll give you a couple warm-up questions. Starting with: do you have a boyfriend?”

“I do.”

“Hm. Pity. What’s he like?”

“First you wanna know about me, and now my boyfriend?” You’re growing more and more irritated with every passing second you are on the phone with this person. “You planning on stealing him from me?”

“No, of course not. Just tell me about him.”

“Oh, my god. I’m hanging up now—“

“Hang up and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

The sheer aggression and violence that ripple through this stranger’s voice forces you to stop. The phone begins to gently rattle against your ear and you can’t suppress the shaking that overcomes your body. Panic is now flowing through your veins as you stand in your kitchen in silence.

“Good girl. Now, where were we? Right: tell me about your boyfriend.”

“Um, he… He has tattoos, a-and he’s really tall. Uh, he— He’s in a famous metal band, and—“

“Yeah? What band?”

“B-Bad Omens.”

“Oh, I know them. Don’t they sing that song Just Pretend?”

You nod, even though you know they can’t see you. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, that’s them,” you murmur.

“Well, let’s start the actual game, shall we? First question: your boyfriend was at a meeting this morning with his band and their label. Who’s their label?”

The question stuns you. You’re suddenly frozen in place and you can’t gather the air in your lungs to even breathe, let alone speak. How the fuck do they know that? Why do they want this information if they obviously already have it?

“S-Sumerian,” you choke out.

“Correct. Next question: what band member left before the production of their second album began?”

You now feel sick to your stomach. You suspect this has to be some crazed fan with an unhealthy obsession with Bad Omens. If that’s the case, they should know already know the answer to this particular question. So why are they asking you?

“Vincent.”

“Good. Final question: where am I?”

“Wh-What? What do you mean where are you?”

“Where. Am. I?”

Dread floods your body. “Are you in my house?!” you practically yell in to the phone speaker.

“Come find out. But if you find me it won’t count as answering the question.”

You’re quick to tear the landline from your ear and jab your thumb against the end call button then tossing it onto the kitchen counter. Your hands are shaking as you take a few steps away from it, silently hoping it won’t ring again.

But it isn’t the phone’s shrill ring that makes you jump. It’s a sound coming from somewhere else in the house.

Your fight or flight response kicks in immediately. You rush to flee through the front door when you hear slow, heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. They sound calculated and deliberate, and you have no choice but to stand there in terror.

From the direction of yours and Olivia’s bedrooms comes a dark figure. They walk out of the shadows and into the dining room. Their body is covered in a black cloak, with a hood up over their head and a white mask on their face. The mask is a simple depiction of a screaming face. But it’s not any less mortifying as you watch them.

The figure comes to a stop when they catch sight of you. Their head tilts to one side, almost they’re considering their next move of action.

But you move first, suddenly booking it for the opposite end of the house towards the laundry room, the extra bathroom, and the garage. You hear them give chase a moment later.

You scramble your way into the garage in hopes of getting the large door to slide open. But the masked figure is one step behind you, and prevents you from hitting the door controls. They have you tripping forwards, and you nearly face plant into the concrete but you catch your weight on your hands. You push yourself up just as the intruder goes to grab you.

Darting around your car, that still sits idly in the middle of the space, you are being taunted by the figure in the hood. They stay near the door back into the house which keeps you on the other side of the car.

Then they’re skirting around the vehicle straight for you. You make a last second decision and make a break for the door inside. The intruder races back after you.

The figure chases you down the hall towards your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut before they can reach you, but you didn’t anticipate their strength. They shove the door open all the way, making you scramble back to your bed. You’re panting as you scoot backwards on the mattress.

The black-cloaked figure says nothing as they slowly stalk towards you. Adrenaline in coursing through your veins and you’re panicking. You are rendered silent as they reach the bed and continue their hunt across the sheets until they’re looming over you. The white mask is haunting as it stares down at you with that soundless wail.

“P-Please… I-I don’t wanna die…”

No response. Whoever is underneath that mask does not seem interested in listening to your pleas.

One of their hands reaches back behind them and reveals a shimmering hunting blade. The metal is clean and shiny, and you can see your fear reflected back at you through it.

Their unoccupied hand goes for your shirt, and you flinch at the contact. Your heart is pounding relentlessly as your shirt is lifted from your body. You couldn’t help but be compliant, especially with how they’ve got you situated between their legs.

You watch as they point the knife at you, then have the fine tip poking at the indent at the center of your collarbones. The barely-there feeling of the cold metal on your skin is sending your brain into overdrive. They then slowly, lazily, drag the blade downwards across your bare chest. You see how they’re clearly enamored by the goosebumps flaring across your abdomen as they continue dragging the knife down, down down…

Suddenly, there’s a hand gripping your throat. But it’s not with the murderous intention you were expecting. Instead, there is almost a gentleness to how their squeezing your neck, with the way their thumb grazes your pulse point.

You’re horrifically confused.

You nearly say something to them, but they’re taking the hand holding the knife to their mask. And then they tug off the black hood and this is the end, oh god—

“Noah?!”

And yes, that is your boyfriend kneeling above you with a wicked grin on his face and a knife in his hand. The terror and anxiety you had been feeling begins to melt away, and you can feel nothing but anger and embarrassment.

“Told you I’d see you tonight, didn’t I?” Noah says casually.

It’s a struggle to comprehend his presence. You can’t understand why he’s doing this or why he thought it was okay with a murderer running rampant.

“Wh-What the fuck?” you stammer.

“Oh, what’s wrong, baby?” Noah takes his gloved hand away from your throat and uses it to brush aside the stray hairs that were clinging to your skin. “I thought you wanted me to stay over? Keep you safe?”

You did want that, yes. But this is not what you meant. Never did you say you wanted Noah to stalk you like he were the predator and you were the prey.

But you can’t stamp down the exhilaration that is igniting your insides. You can’t get rid of it, especially with how Noah is looking at you. You suddenly want to turn in to jelly and be completely and utterly obedient to his every word.

And that sort of terrifies you.

“I-I did, but you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him. Your body is slowly relaxing beneath the weight of his own, now that any imminent danger has been found folly.

Noah looks at you quizzically. “What do you mean?” he asks you innocently. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe and sound.”

Noah begins tracing lines across your stomach and chest with the blade’s edge once more, a careful hold on the hilt in order not to pierce your flesh. The sensation has your brain faltering and not fully processing his words. Your hands inch towards his thighs.

He notices your hands moving in no time. He doesn’t stop you and says nothing.

You slither your hands under the cheap black fabric, and you immediately grip at his legs. You boldly glide your hands upwards until you reach the waistband of Noah’s pants. Noah watches as you tug lightly at one of the belt loops, then going for the zipper.

“Did my little charade turn you on, baby?” Noah moves the knife under your chin and gently pushes up so you’re forced to make eye contact with him. “Did you like me chasing you?”

You nod. And you see him grin.

“Shit, and who am I to deny you?”

But you know Noah. He’s going to tease you and get you all worked up, have you in near hysterics before he finally gives you what you want. And he doesn’t seem to be in a very generous mood at the moment.

Noah drops the knife to pull off the entire costume. He tosses it aside before getting rid of his shirt as well. A part of you knows this is what he wanted from the beginning, when he first offered to sleep over. But you can’t be bothered by that, not when he’s moving back enough to pull down your pants.

When he gets your pants off, and they join the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom, Noah drags his tattooed hands up your legs agonizingly slow. He stops briefly when he reaches the top of your thighs, but then he proceeds to dig his fingernails in to the soft flesh and tugs you towards him. You yelp in surprise and are promptly shut up when you find your legs slung around Noah’s waist and his hand resting at your throat again.

“Good girl,” Noah says quietly. The hand not on your neck has begun making its way to your clothed core, which earns a weak whimper from you. “Are you gonna keep being a good girl for me?”

You whine when his fingers start stroking at you through your underwear. You think you answer him, but you don’t care enough as you are now grinding into his hand.

For a moment, you feel Noah remove his hands from your body. You whimper and whine at the loss of touch, until his hand is back at your throat and there’s a sharp cold resting on your hip.

The knife harmlessly glides against your skin once more. Then the pressure from the waistband of your underwear vanishes, to be replaced by the metallic cold of the blade in Noah’s hand. It slowly travels down past your pelvis, making you jerk in surprise.

Noah chuckles at the way your body reacts. You almost begin bitching at him when the knife disappears and is then substituted for his fingers. And his fingers feel so much better against your folds than that stupid knife could ever dream of.

And he’s just lazily stroking, avoiding slipping any one of his long, tattooed digits inside of you. You try your best to grind back against his hand, but the one at your throat squeezes for just a moment. It makes you pause, whining at the unexpected dizziness you are now experiencing.

Then his fingers are inside you, stroking and rubbing and searching for that bundle of nerves deep within. You cry out at the sudden intrusion. But then you’re pushing back on Noah’s fingers and the pressure on your throat eases a bit.

“Such a good girl,” you hear Noah murmur. “Can you cum for me, sweetheart?”

You nod frantically and he thrusts his fingers harder into your pussy. You’re moaning and writhing at his touch, and then that same pressure is applied once more to your throat and it’s just too much. Your body clenches around Noah’s fingers and you ride out your orgasm as he slows down his strokes.

The feeling of suddenly being empty is overwhelming. But you don’t have to worry about that much longer when Noah maneuvers your body off of him and onto your stomach. You feel the bed shift as he moves, and the sound of him taking off his pants has you gripping at the sheets.

Then the bed dips from Noah’s weight and he’s suddenly right above you. His bare legs are caging in your thighs and his hands are gently roaming over the expanse of your back. You can feel his cock against your ass; it takes a little too much self control to not push back into him, although you end up failing.

“You look so hot like this, baby,” Noah says. His hands halt at your hips, and he’s digging his fingertips into the bone. “So, so good for me.”

Noah doesn’t hesitate when he begins pushing his hard cock into you and using your hips as leverage. You’re crying out and moaning weakly as he adjusts slightly and then bottoms out.

There isn’t any warning given before Noah is pulling out just enough then slamming back in. He sets a brutal but steady pace as he fucks you. Your knuckles are whitening from your tight grip on the bedsheets. You quickly become a moaning, blubbering mess beneath Noah as he keeps going and going.

He keeps hitting your cervix perfectly and it makes you see stars. His hands on your hips is currently the only tether you have on reality.

Suddenly there’s a hand in your hair and it tugs at the roots until you prop yourself up on your elbows. Noah’s grip on your hair is sending spikes of pain from your scalp all the way down to your shoulders. But each thrust of his hips is another tug on the strands of hair entangled in his fingers. It’s a mashup of sensations that has you chasing your high again.

“Ah— Ah—“

God, you’re so close. You need to cum so fucking bad.

“Ah, Noah—“

“Come on, baby,” Noah breathlessly encourages you. “I want you to cum with my name on your lips.”

And with that, your pussy is clenching around him and you’re coming with a cry of his name. Then his thrusts get sloppier until he’s coming inside of you. You feel all warm as you are filled with nothing but Noah.

Noah then pulls out and the feeling of his cum dripping out of you is definitely the best thing you’ve ever experienced.

His hands are then forcing you to turn over and rest on your back. He straddles your weak body, and the sight of him above you like that makes you want to go again.

“Such a good little slut for me,” he says quietly. His chest is heaving as he drags one of his hands upwards, starting at your stomach and stopping at your tits. He palms one then the other, playing with each for but a moment. “Always so good for me, baby.”

Silence settles over you while Noah continues to just touch you. It’s calming and has your eyelids growing heavy.

But there’s still something that is gnawing at your brain. And you have to say something.

“Are you the killer?” Your voice is fragile when you verbalize your question.

It doesn’t seem to bother Noah, though. His hands are still wandering and touching you as he seems to process what you said.

“Yes. Does that scare you?” he replies. His eyes dart up to meet yours, and the dark glint has your heart pounding. “Do I scare you?”

You don’t have an answer for him, so you remain quiet.

“Are you afraid of me?”

He’s referring to what you had talked about yesterday. A part of you wants to yell out and tell him you are utterly terrified of him, that you cannot fathom the horrific atrocities he has committed. You can’t stand the thought of how much blood stains his hands. The hands that are touching you, caressing every curve…

“No,” you whisper.

Noah’s mouth twists into a lopsided grin. Your answer seems to satisfy him, and you can’t help the satisfaction you also feel spreading throughout your chest.

“Good. I would never want you to be afraid of me,” he tells you as he leans down so your faces are parallel. “You’re mine. And I’ll get rid of anyone that thinks they can take you from me.”

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

♱ foliosriot 2023

[themultifandomgal]

Hi love, can i request one for peaky blinders? Where y/n is in school with Finn and he knows she’s struggling at home so he asks Tommy and the others if they can get her a job or something to help her out. So maybe she gets to clean at the Garrisons and/or maybe watch John’s kids. One night when he gets home late she stays and help him clean up and maybe something happens. Then he says he doesn’t need any help with the kids anymore. Cause he feels bad dragging her in to that life and taking care of his kids and all. But everytime they meet they can’t keep away from eachother.. they end up together maybe Tommy speaks some sense into John or have a talk with y/ns parents to let her marry John? You can do with this idea what you like? I would love to read it!

John Shelby- Can’t Stay Away

Hey! So I changed it a little because of the ages hope that ok so instead of being in school with Finn YN went to school with John and they stayed good friends.

John and I have been friend since we were 4 years old when we started school. My home life wasn’t always great, my father was an alcoholic and my mother was abusive. Mrs Shelby ended up most evening cooking me meals, making sure I had clean clothes. When she passed away it broke all of us.

After wanting to leave my home, Polly gave me a place to live, but finding a job was very hard so I ended up marrying a man who I didn’t love, but he passed away during the war. Tommy got me a job at the Garrison and after Martha passed away I started helping John look after his kids, which caused me to start catching feelings for him. I’ve been doing this now nearly every other day, picking the kids up from school.

Today was no different. I just put them all to bed when John finally comes home

“Hey” I smile at him “have you eaten anything? There’s left overs….”

“I’m getting married” he blurts out making me stop walking towards the kitchen. I turn around with a frown on my face, my heart feels like it’s been crushed into thousands of tiny pieces 

“Oh” is all I can say

“It’s errr Lizzie. Lizzie Stark”

“What?” Lizzie? The woman who’s slept with all of the Shelby brothers, well all except Finn as he’s like 12

“Yeah so errr I don’t need to to help out anymore”

“Oh. Ok erm well I’ll erm see you round then” not really knowing what to say I give John a small smile “congratulations John. I hope she makes you happy” I quickly grab my coat and leave Johns house before he can see that my eyes are starting to tear up.

Over the next few days YN tries her best to stay away from John, but she just can’t. Not only is that her best friend but she loves him. Tommy being so wise knows how YN feels, but he also knows John also has feelings for his best friend. He’s just being stubborn.

Tommy and his brothers are sat in the snug at the Garrison nursing a whiskey

“She’s gonna change”

“She’s not. I offered her money and she took it”

“Fuck!” John yells running his hands over his face

“But ya know who wouldn’t take the money… YN”

“Tom…”

“Tommys right John. That girl loves you. She has from the day you met”

“But she got married” John frowns at his Aunt who rolls her eyes

“Men… she married because you got married”

“But…”

“Yes you did the right thing, but did you love Martha?”

“Of course I did”

“Like the way you love YN?” Tommy ask

“I….”

“Your a fool if you marry Lizzie” Arthur comments downing his whiskey. Just then there’s a knock on the door and YN walks in

“Hey I’m just about to go, but is there anything else you want before I leave?” YN asks looking around, mainly looking at John

“No thank you love. We’ll see you tomorrow” Polly smiles. YN nods her head and says bye to everyone before walking out. Tommy looks at John who’s staring at the door of the snug. Tommy then looks at the door then back at John

“Bloody hell, go after her!” John quickly gets up and leaves the room as quick as he can. Tommy downs his whiskey “thank fuck for that”.

John runs down the street shouting YN’s name. YN stops and turns round confused to why John is runnin after her. Had she forgotten something?

“John?” but before anything else could be said Johns lips are immediately on YN’s. YN pulls back still feeling confused “why did you do that?”

“Because I’ve finally had some sense knocked into me. I love you YN. I can’t stay away from you. It’s you I want to marry, to help look after my kids and maybe even had kids with… that’s if you’ll let me?”

“What about Lizzie?” YN asks

“I’ll break it off with her, I promise, but…” John then gets down on one knee “will you marry me?”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear. Of course I will” with that John gets up and spins YN round, kissing her lips. Little did the couple know that Tommy had also left the Garrison hoping to catch a glimpse of the two. He won’t ever tell anyone, but he did smile when he saw his brother and YN happy in each other’s arms finally.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Conservations with the Damned (Daredevil Fan Fic)

Summary: Foggy Nelson stands in front of Matt’s grave. And has the talk he should have had . . . before.

Warning: Heavy angst, hurt no comfort, discussion of (perceived) character death, grief, mourning, mentions of suicide

Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza

<Edit: Added taglist>

Conservations with the Damned

“Hey, buddy,” Foggy said to the tombstone. “I need to talk to you. Probably should have had this talk sooner. But I didn’t. Too stubborn I guess. Both of us are too damned stubborn.”

He took a deep breath. “It still doesn’t seem real. You being gone. I knew that it was . . . possible . . . that your hobby was going to kill you. But I hadn’t really believed it. Not really. Part of me just expected you to defy the odds.”

He laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh. “Out of spite if nothing else.”

Foggy sombered. “But then . . . it . . .  happened. Everyone walked out. Dusty and bloody but alive. All but you. It still feels like a knife straight to my heart.”

Another pained laugh. “I prayed. Did you know that? I prayed when you didn’t come out. I haven’t prayed in years. But that day I prayed. I prayed and prayed. ‘Please, God, let him stubble out of there. Let him be alive. Please, just one more miracle.’ But you never did. You never fucking did.”

“They never found your body. We buried an empty coffin. Well I did. Karen doesn’t want to believe it. That you are really . . .”

He swallowed hard and said, “Dead . . . Which I get. I don’t want to believe it either. I want every expert saying that you couldn’t have survived to be wrong. I want them all to be wrong. Jessica. Luke. Danny. Colleen. Everyone.

“I want them to tell me that they lied. That you didn’t choose to stay down there. That you didn’t choose to die. For her.”

The last word was snarled. “You know I didn’t think I could hate Elektra more than I already did. Sorry, buddy, I know you loved her. But I’ve hated her since Columbia. Ever since I had to pick up the shattered pieces of my best friend and try to glue him back together. I hate the way she always convinced you to do such stupid shit. Why did you always listen to her?”

His voice dropped down to a whisper. “Why did you die for her? Why, Matt? Did you think she was the only one that gave even half a shit about you?”

Another hard swallow. “Well, you’re wrong. Again. I give a shit. I give all the shits. No matter how much of shit you were being, I still fucking loved you!”

The shout startled the birds out of the nearby trees, sent them spiraling off into the sky. Little birds almost black against the vivid reds and yellows of the setting sun. Another day and Foggy might have found the sight beautiful. 

Today it was ugly. Dull. The world seemed to have lost all of its color.

When he spoke again, his voice was as even as he could manage. “I’m sorry Matt. I’m sorry that you died thinking that I didn’t care. That it didn’t matter to me if you lived or died. That the only one you had in your corner was her. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He could no longer stop the tears from falling. “If I could, I would do it all different. Still would have left that night. I was hurt. And angry. I needed time.

“I should have asked you to explain your senses again. And actually listened this time. Instead of assuming things. Should have made sure you knew that you could still talk to me. I hated . . . hate that you felt like you couldn’t tell me about Elektra. Or anything else that was going on during your . . . night job.

“That’s not entirely on you. I made it clear that I didn’t like your . . . hobby. Didn’t like that side of you. Can’t really blame you for avoiding it around me.”

He sighed. “Still wished that you had talked to me. Or I had talked to you. Like the adults that we’re supposed to be. But we didn’t.”

His voice dropped back down to whisper. “But we didn’t. And now it’s too late.”

Foggy stood there in silence, staring at the words engraved on the stone until it was too dark for him to see them anymore. Not that he needed light. He knew what was written there. He saw it in his nightmares. Along with haunted hazel eyes. Hazel eyes that he had only realized later that Matt had started hiding from him. Putting up an armor that Matt hadn’t felt the need for around Foggy since sophomore year . . .

One of many things he had only realized when it was far, far too late.

“Good-bye, Matt,” he said, then turned to go.

Movement out of the corner of his eye made him pause. Squint into the shadows around the Church. He thought he had . . . No. There was no one. Nothing here. Nothing but shadows and graves. The silent dead. And bitter memories.

His shoulders slumped, Foggy Nelson trudged out of the cemetery.

[archivesofthevoid]

Hiiii!!

Can I get a friends to lovers scenario with some of the Harry Potter boys (particularly George Weasley and Remus Lupin if you do those two characters ❤️❤️)? Any specifics will do, I’m just a sucker for the trope. Please and Thank you!!!

George Weasley - Friends to Lovers Trope HCs

I know you guys are looking for probably actual writing but right now making bulleted headcanons are just so much easier on me and my melting brain, so for now, take this semi detailed scenario hcs about being friends to lovers with George :))

I'm so sorry I'm advance!! these really are just me rambling about how I think it would go,,, I hope y'all enjoy,,

I promise I'll actually write something better for this soon

•So friends to lovers with the one and only George Weasley. Honestly I see this trope as like,,, you're just best friends with him and he's the one to fall first. And believe me, he falls HARD.

•This man doesn't fall easily for people. At least, not like this. Sure he's had a few fling crushes here and there that he might have hyper fixated on a tiny bit just because he craves the attention. HOWEVER - once he realizes he's falling for his best friend? He's a mess.

•One day he was just listening to you talk to him, Fred, Lee and Angelina and all of a sudden when you laughed about something stupid he said? It made him feel different. It pulled at his heartstrings in the most beautiful way that he was almost sure he imagined it because you never stirred up this reaction out of him before?? So he was very confused.

•No doubt he tried to brush it off but as time went on in the span of the 30 minutes you and everyone else was chatting in the Commons, it dawned on him.

•O h. I'm gaining feelings for my best friend.

•Insert him excusing himself to go do… something else. Probably go try to work on WWW inventions or something. He just needed to take a quick breather and distraction. Everyone thought it was normal but Fred could sense something was off with his twin. So he followed after him? He went to their dorm to see George kind of flustered and freaking out and asked what was wrong.

•Naturally, George is great with words /sar so what ended up coming out of his mouth? Complete gibberish. Fred normally could understand his brother's incessant ramblings but not this time.

•"Woah Georgie, slow down. I can't understand you when you're spilling your words all over the floor like this." He normally would have tried to make light of the situation and he still does. Thankfully, George was able to actually get out what he was trying to say.

•"I think - I think I might be falling for them!"

•Que Fred laughing. Also que George punching him in the arm while yelling "BLOODY HELL FRED THIS ISN'T FUNNY!!!"

•Oh but it is. He knew his brother was rather soft when it came to the mushy feelings of romance, but he didn't think he was this bad.

•So naturally Fred has to talk him through processing these feelings (not that he could really handle his own feelings if he ever liked someone like his twin is currently)

•They're both horrible with their feelings. Despite having a big family, I don't think Molly really was there to help them process their own feelings due to having their younger siblings to take care of. And you know Arthur was always working so it was quite literally just the two of them. Not that they don't appreciate their family but c'mon now.

•ANYWAYS I'm getting off track here. George eventually figures out his feelings and yes, its very apparent he feels something for you.

•So he and Fred try to plan accordingly about how to bring it up to you. But you're so… you. George doesn't want to mess whatever you guys have up.

•I will say however that you've noticed him acting a bit different. So the plan the twins had goes out the window once you confront and ask George about his behavior in the next coming weeks.

•He cracks, because he just can't lie to you! Not when you're looking at him like that. So he ends up spilling a confession of which almost gets missed by how hesitant and quiet he gets.

•Thankfully your ears work (unlike mine lmao) and you take his confession in pride. You tell him you appreciate it (which he swears he's about to be rejected just because of those words alone-) but then you tell him that you'd be willing to try. Because recently you had started to see him in a different light.

•He's ecstatic tbh and SO relieved. Like when I tell you he let out the biggest sigh of relief? I MEAN IT.

•This is how your relationship with him starts. Yeah it's a little messy, but not in a bad way! George has next to no idea what he's doing because he REALLY does care for you and he doesn't want to let you down or hurt you.

•Just be patient with him, okay? I promise he makes it all worth it <33