#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

[tuttle-did-it]

I’m rewatching DS9 with the Delta Flyers rewatch, and I think Keiko/Miles had an amazing relationship. I love that there are times when they can't stand to be away from each other, and that there are times when they aren't even sure if they want to be in the same room with each other. I love them. I don't think they're as stereotypical as you might be remembering-- there were some subtleties and nuances beyond the stereotypes of being in a cis-het relationship— or any relationship for that matter.

The only episode I have really actively disliked with Keiko and Miles was the TNG episode where Keiko is turned into an 12 year old. The actress they had for young Keiko was not very good, and Colm seemed to be questioning his life choices as he's having to argue with a 12 year old girl playing his wife. It was an uncomfortable plot line (I get that’s the point, but maybe a little too uncomfortable). I thought her character was written terribly, the episode was absurd, and would have MUCH preferred they had used that time with Rosalind to write a much better story for her.

I have always loved Rosalind. She is an amazing actor, she is absolutely gorgeous, she has wonderful chemistry with Colm, and she just seems like a really fabulous person. Armin can't say enough praise when he talks about her as a guest star. I have NEVER understood why people say there was a problem with Keiko because I've never known anyone who said that. Everyone I've known feels the same way about her. I'm going to guess that it was primarily men who were offended at seeing a blond woman who wasn't a 28 year old with big tits bouncing around.

Chakotay…. you know what? I will be honest. I never liked his character, even before I found out Beltran was a pile of shit. to my knowledge, Beltran has never claimed to be Native American. As I understand it, he does have some ancestry for Native America but does not identify that way, I think he's primarily known as a Mexican American actor. In fact, I remember articles complaining when Voyager first came out from Native Americans and First Nations people pointing out that there were a lot of Native actors who would have been perfect for the role, there were a lot of Native consultants who would have helped them not write shit (they hired a hack -- apparently knowing he was a hack???-- white dude who was an ʇɹǝdxǝ on Native cultures. Who knew nothing about Native cultures and made out all the fuck up. (Fact check me on all of this, friend it's very late/early and I have had a pain flare-up for 4 weeks that is dulling my bloody brain).

Even without knowing Beltran was a piece of shit, I have never liked his character. I also never liked Reg Barclay, and I liked the character of Torres but didn't always love Roxanne's performance of her. hmmm what do they all have in common…. ahem. Could it be a red hat with 4 letters words on it? Why yes. Yes it could. (More on Torres later)

I love Prodigy. I do. I think it's a brilliant show and I think they actually do some very clever stuff with anti-nostalgia when the rest of the entire fucking franchise is nothing but nostalgia (Strange New Worlds, Lower Decks, Picard in particular). I strongly wish they had not brought Beltran back in, and kept with the anti-nostalgia stuff they were playing with. The kids' storylines were all fantastic. In my opinion, it was the best New Trek show out there. The writers clearly knew and understood the two different people Janeway could be, they gave story arcs to every character, they managed to make the Borg scary again (well done there). It was just a good show. But it was harmed with the Chakotay sideplots that never needed to happen.

The writers were clearly Chakotay/Janeway shippers, which… no. I would have loved if the story was… anyone else. I mean, maybe not Kim, but yeah, pretty much anyone else. I think the show would have been far stronger if they had kept with the anti-nostalgia here, and they did not need a forced relationship that never should have happened. I’d have much preferred if Janeway had a completely asexual reason for going back to the Delta quadrant— preferably one that involved something she fucked up 30 years ago.

Torres…. you know, I am going to disagree with you a bit here. Am I angry that they made the Latina woman angry and out of control? Yes. Does it drive me absolutely insane that Torres-- the only main character woman of colour on Trek since Uhura-- is constantly being told to control herself? Abso-fucking-lutely. (and don't think I'm not still raging that they were STILL FUCKING DOING THIS 30 FUCKING YEARS LATER WITH RAFFI BECAUSE FUCK YOU STAR TREK)

However. I would argue that Torres might be one of the women on Trek who has had the MOST character development.

Everyone credits Janeway as the first woman captain as a main character. YAY! great. Women in stem. We love it. So why aren't we acknowledging the first woman engineer? These two women run the fucking ship. They are allowed to be leaders, and for the most part, the men who work for them adapt to this pretty quickly and don’t really cause problems because ewww my boss is a woman! Ugh! No, just she is my boss, she knows what the fuck she’s doing, I will do my job.

I also kind of loved when Janeway is like, how long will this take? and Torres says x hours. Janeway says fine, I want this done in (less than) x hours. Torres fights back saying No, I said it takes x time. I don’t exaggerate. I said what I said. I just liked their relationship— she was allowed to push back, and Janeway seemed to value that in her (most of the time. Not at first. But eventually).

I think they were best with Torres when she was dealing with her struggles of identity. I have never liked the Klingons, I will be honest. I hate Klingons. I hate Worf. I don’t like the Klingon culture, and I think most of the time they’re just an excuse to show how “civilised” the Federation and Starfleet are. It bothers me how the original series mainly used them in Blackface, and I’ve noticed an annoying trend in science fiction to often put the person of colour in alien makeup, often monstrous or villainous. It can feel quite racist to me, as the original series mail had Klingons basically in Blackface, and are often in sci-fi to show monstrous characters to show how evolved and superior the white characters are.

I generally am very very bored of Klingons. Torres may be the only one I’ve ever liked. No… wait. Oh! Suzi Plakson.. Key… K’Elar? Something like that. K’Ehleyr. (Thanks internet). She was amazing, and very much like Torres in that she was half human, half Klingon, and kinda hated Klingons. Loved that. She was sort of the template for Torres, now that I think about that. She was an excellent character. They shouldn’t have killed her off.

Anyway. Torres. I kind of loved that Torres was a Klingon who Didn't Get Why Anyone Would Want to Be A Klingon. She hated every element of being a Klingon. Some of it was just ‘I don’t get these idiots, all they do is fight and yell and I just want to sit and read a book in the bath, go away.’

Some of her rejection was down to previous traumas as a kid, which I liked that they went into. That people have rejected her because of the way she looks. And she can’t just make it go away. And self-loathing- how how hard she pushed that Klingon identity away, even though visually, that's the first thing anyone would notice about her. And the first thing she sees in the mirror.

Hating and loving her mother enough to be willing to go to "hell" to save her. To go through all the Klingon crap that she hated for someone she loved because deep down, some part of her did still value that Klingon crap because she valued her mother.

She also had an excellent storyline about the trauma of being part of two very different cultures-- but also, her terror at passing this trauma as generational trauma onto her child. To the point she's willing to try to change her child's DNA so she can ~pass~ for the preferred culture. Whatever my feelings on Roxanne, that episode was absolutely incredible-- and from what Robbie says, Roxanne came to the writers with her script covered in notes for them from her own experiences. It was one of VOY’s stronger episodes.

They allowed two women (Janeway and Torres) to have quite severe depression and mental health issues, which frankly I think was a rather brave of them considering this is 1998 Star Trek— and that these women were the ones in charge, but no one used that as an excuse to replace them with men. Janeway’s depression was a self-loathing and guilt, sitting in her quarters and refusing to come out. (And occasionally trying to blow up the ship…….). Torres’ depression also turns inward, but to the point where she is engaging in self-harm— and could have very well killed herself multiple times. And I believe it was made quite clear that Torres’ depression regarding her heritage certainly went back to childhood, as did Janeway’s depression issues. Were these issues resolved too quickly? Yes. But I think it was a HUGE thing that they allowed the two most powerful women on the ship just fucking Not Be Okay.

Also, whilst I don’t love cis-het relationships in general, I didn’t hate Torres and Paris. I appreciated that they took the time for them to both grow up a little bit before bringing them together. I appreciated that they did become friends before it turned into something more. Not my favourite paring by a mile, but I think they did some nuanced stuff with them— the episodes where he’s asleep in front of the tv was maybe too silly, but as a couple they were inoffensive most of the time.

I thought it was an interesting choice to make Paris more interested in honouring her Klingon heritage in multiple episodes, and having her pushing back— no, I don’t care about this shit, leave me alone!

In Lineage (possibly Torres’ strongest episodes), when she is trying to change her child’s DNA, I liked the way Paris pushed back and had to really fight to get it into her head that he was not like her father, and that he loved the part of herself that she hated so much. These multiple episodes regarding her mixed heritage— and trying to learn how to love what she saw in the mirror even though it was a representation of everything she rejected— that mattered. That spoke to a lot of marginalised people who are two things, and thus feel like nothing. Who wish they could pass for this but they can’t because of that. That episode mattered.

Women on Trek were not treated well by the writers. Full stop. Torres was not treated well. Listen, I love Gates— Gates was the only reason I ever even stayed with TNG. She was the only one who seemed to have a personality on the show, to me. The only one I vaguely cared about— and on paper, she was nothing. But Gates managed to infuse her with much more.

And then Michelle Forbes came along and — oooh, yes, I’ll stay for her, too. This one is interesting! I like her. But I think Gates would have killed for her character to have that much development. I believe Denise and Michelle Forbes would have stayed if their character had half as much development as Torres.

Nichelle desperately wanted to leave— and stayed because Martin Luther King begged her to.

Terry did get quite a few cool episodes, but only one or two delved into her deep traumas, things that broke her. Because Jadzia had 7 lifetimes— she’s worked a lot of her shit out by now. We had a few. Maybe if Terry had been given just a few more episodes of substance, she wouldn’t have burnt out as easily. (And maybe if Rick Berman hadn’t treated her like shit, too). But I'm a big defender of Jadzia because as a trans kid, she was the first positive version of queerness I saw. She was allowed to be both a woman and a man, and her sexuality was obviously open. That meant a lot to me as a kid.

And I do feel that Nana was burnt out by S7 as well. They stopped giving her interesting stories, put her in heels and said hey go stand there and snog Odo. That was an irritation for me.

And Marina? Christ. Troi didn’t have a personality —aside from hating her mother, liking chocolate and saying ‘captain he’s very angry’ when there’s an alien SCREAMING on the view screen. Marina would probably have biten off her own arm if she could do anything more than sit there saying ‘and how does that make you feel?’ Troi didn’t become remotely interesting until like S6 or something.

And I adore Jeri, but the Borg Barbie thing really did get old for me. If they had just let her fucking wear clothes instead of looking like it was painted on, that would have gone a long way. But even she had more story than many of the other women in Trek. And don’t get me started on how much I was screaming on Picard when Seven spends the entire last year sitting in silence whilst the white men talk about how hard their lives are, and putting up with another stupid white man constantly dead-naming her. And she’s apparently not allowed to be with her lover because Raffi needs a man has to “teach” her how to control her emotions. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. No— we’re not getting into that. We are not getting into that cos this is already WAYYYY too long and it is 0320 and I should have been in bed at least an hour ago. We are not getting int— christ I hate Picard. FUCK YOU STAR TREK.

Ahem. Sorry. So. I think we can all agree that women on Trek, there was a very low bar for character development. And by bar, I mean a toothpick on the ground. But a few of the women did manage to shove that toothpick a little higher. Women in Trek have not been treated well. But I admire every one of the women in these shows for doing the most they could with what little they had.

But when I really sit back and think about character development for women in Trek, I’d say that Torres is certainly one of the ones who was allowed to do a lot more than most. I think she was allowed to be a lot more complex than people realise. Torres, Kira, Jadzia and Seven were probably the women who were allowed to have the must substantial stories— even more so than Janeway, sometimes.

Pretty sure nearly all of the women in the entire Trek franchise would beg for as much development as Torres got. Was it enough? No. Was it more than most of the women in the franchise got? yeah.

Miss Piggy has better storylines than so many of the women in these shows. (well. Torres, Kira, Jadzia and Seven did okay. But all of the women deserved better)

(and to be fair-- even with now cheated these women all were for incredible storylines, they still matter to a lot of people. Nana recently published a book on Trek women and how fans have spoken to her about how much they mattered and how they changed the lives of fans everywhere. And I think that's incredible. That these actors could bring so much more than what was on the page to still reach people -- despite how 2-D they were written.)

Does anyone remember that episode of Star Trek: Voyager where Tom Paris commits a traffic violation in alien space and he has to go to alien remedial driving school? I have no idea which episode it was, but it's such a great concept. There are so many episodes about high-stakes encounters with crazy alien legal systems where death is on the line, but I wanna see more alien planets with very mundane legal systems. I wanna see an episode where there's a big dramatic trial, and our heroes lose, but then find out that they have misunderstood what was going on and will simply have to do community service for a week or something.

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[simpurnatural]

"Flustered" || Short-Fic

XO, Kitty - Min Ho Moon x Fem!Reader

Note from Nat: "Back to back Min Ho fics??? Didn't expect to get so much positive feedback. Thanks for going easy on ya girl, I'm still a bit rusty! Enjoy and make sure to wipe that drool off your face babe!"

Warning(s): Spoilers for "XO, Kitty" seasons 1 & 2, A little bit of Smut, Language, Sorta Proofread

As the fall semester came to an end, with everyone not wanting to part ways even for a just a month, Min Ho decides to invite the entire friend group for a winter getaway.

“Where’s Y/n?” Asked Dae which made everyone’s heads turn before the sound of snow crunching was heard.

You approached the group that was currently enjoying the hot tub, arms crossed to keep your robe shut. Min Ho suggested that the hot tub would be best way to relax after a day of travelling

“Hi! Sorry I’m late to the party,” you smiled whilst kicking off your slippers, then sliding your robe off your shoulders.

“Hot damn girl,” Q said, overcame with astonishment. "Drop the workout routine asap please," he joked as everyone's eyes lingered on your figure.

“Oh stop it,” you laughed and rolled your eyes. “This old thing isn’t worth the hype,” you insisted, but everyone would’ve begged to differ.

The navy blue two piece you were sporting hugged all the right places. Your ass and tits looked like they needed saving. The sight was definitely giving body tea.

Everyone watched as you made your descent into the tub and sat in between Kitty and Min Ho. Kitty had given you a small wave whereas Min Ho could barely make eye contact. Various conversations continued but Min Ho remained in an unlike-him-silence.

He wondered how he had not noticed how hot you looked until now. Not saying that looks are everything, but Min Ho felt stuck on how he never gave you a second glance.

"-Right Min Ho?" Dae asks, turning to his best friend who was clearly zoning out.

"Sorry what?" Min Ho replied, snapping out of his trance.

"We're gonna be able to go skiing first thing tomorrow, right?" Dae reiterated, a slight tiredness in his voice due to Min Ho's lack of contribution to the conversation.

"Of course," Min Ho nodded before his gaze back on you, who was too busy chatting with Yuri and Kitty to realizing anything else.

"Woah okay, this is new," Q teased, as his eyes followed Min Ho's. "The bikini has got your eyes lurkin'" he says, making Jin snicker at the observation.

"What are you guys talking about?" you ask with an unaware smile on your lips, Min Ho's eyes instantly looking down.

"Min Ho here seems to have-" Q began.

"Shut it," Min Ho tsked before moving to leave the hot tub.

"Hey, we were just joking," Jin called out as Min Ho shuffled back into the house.

"What was that about?" Yuri questioned, all conversations now put on pause.

"Is Min Ho okay?" Kitty asked, looking to the other boys occupying the hot tub.

"He's just a little flustered," Dae replied, the feeling of worry instantly overcame you.

"Did I do something?" you say wide-eyed but to no response. "I'll go check on him," you say before making your way out of the tub and walking towards the house. "Min Ho?" your voice echoed throughout the home.

You noticed a light coming from inside the kitchen and chose to investigate. There stood Min Ho, chugging a bottle of water with his slim yet toned physique being illuminated by the refrigerator light. He began to cough up said water after realizing your presence.

"Bloody hell, you scared me," he coughed, covering his face with the inside of his elbow. "What is it Y/n?" he asks while shutting the fridge door.

"What's with you?" you quizzed, "Ever since I joined you guys outside, you've been quiet and when I tried to converse with you-you run back inside!" you add with a hint of frustration in your voice.

"It's not my fault-"

"-So it's mine? What did I do wrong?" you cut off, urgently wanting an answer as to why your friend was avoiding you.

"Y/n, it's because y-you literally look like t-that!" Min Ho exclaimed as if it were common knowledge. "How else is a guy supposed to act when you decide walk around wearing something like that?" he questioned.

"Is what I have on not okay? Was there something in my hair?" you blabbered in response, instantly being overcame with the self-conscious feeling.

"It's fact that when I saw you earlier, I wish you didn't have anything on" Min Ho muttered in an almost whisper like volume.

The realization finally hit you, Min Ho had been eyeing you since you stepped into the hot tub. You face flushed a bright red, clearly flattered by the words that just came out of his mouth.

"So what you're saying is-"

"What I'm saying is that you look almost too good," Min Ho said, his voice deep and eyes darkened like a lion about to pounce on his next prey.

The small distance between the two of you shut in almost an instant, his hand cupped the side of your face gently. You could've sworn that the beat of your heart could be heard from miles away.

Your lack of response gave Min Ho time to lift you up and place you on the kitchen counter. Accidentally, you let out a small whimper at the feeling of the cold tile touching your skin. Min Ho felt as if he could've finished off that noise alone.

Standing between your legs, Min Ho's hands traveled all the way back down to your ass. You watched his eyes really take in your body, as if he could drink you up like a glass of water.

"Tell me to stop, and I will" Min Ho whispered as he gave your plump skin a squeeze.

Leaning in with your lips close to his ear, finally you replied, "I don't think I want you to stop".

Min Ho took this as his green light and you felt as his hands unclasped your bikini top. Grabbing the piece of clothing, he tossed away fand his eyes settled on your breast.

Biting his lip, Min Ho took one of each into his hands. "Beautiful. You are so beautiful Y/n," he said with is his accent thick, almost like he was about to melt at the sight of you.

You gasped at the feeling of his breath on your tits, causing a domino effect of butterflies and goosebumps to cover you. Min Ho chuckled at this, rubbing your nipples with his thumb in a circular motion.

Eyes closed; you threw your head back at the sensation before feeling something foreign come in contact with your breast. Min Ho's tongue began exploring your chest. It was as if he was trying to paint a picture.

His grasp on your tits became slightly more secure as he was egged on by your moans. He was marking his territory all over you with bright red hickeys.

Your half assed attempt to stifle your moans was with the palm of your hand. Min Ho however loved how loud you were getting for him and yanked your hand away from your face.

"I want to hear you," he insisted, pulling his lips away from your chest for a mere moment. "I want to hear you all night," he smirked, leaning in for a kiss.

"Uh guys?" a voiced that belonged to Yuri called out. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her voice trailing off into the hallway probably in search of you both.

Min Ho looked down with a smile on his face before getting your swim top from the ground. You quickly put it back on then pulled your hair to the front to cover the marks Min Ho left behind.

"W-we're here Yuri!" you replied hopping off the counter and walking out of the kitchen with Min Ho right behind you.

As Yuri came walking back towards you guys, her head tilted to the side in confusion, "What were you guys doing over there in the dark?"

"Just got some water," Min Ho replied, which seemingly convinced Yuri enough for her to walk back outside. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered in your ear, giving your ass a slap.

JAN 2025

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

wait what if mc accidentally sent sebastian a love letter. like they were trying to write down their feelings and it just got sent by a helpful roommate by mistake

Love Letter | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

I HOPE YOU ENJOY ANON! I really had a great time writing the love letter, UGH that got me right in the heart ;.;

Words: ~3,900

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Drama, Fluff, Romance

Sebastian,

Witch Weekly says that writing down your feelings is supposed to help. That if you’re in love with someone you can never have, you should put it all down on parchment, let it spill from your heart like ink onto a page. Then, once it’s written, you can crumple it up, set it on fire, or hide it away where no one will ever find it.

I suppose it’s meant to be cathartic. A way to lighten the burden, to lessen the ache. But I know better.

Because no matter how many words I pour onto this page, no matter how many times I try to convince myself that this will fix something, I already know the truth.

There is no fixing this. There is no untangling my heart from yours.

I will love you until the day I die.

It feels embarrassing to even write that, like I’m some sappy, lovesick fool. But I suppose that’s exactly what I am. And who cares, really? No one is ever going to see this.

No one will ever know how deep this goes but me.

How have you never noticed, Sebastian? You’re supposed to be so sharp, so quick-witted, always a step ahead of everyone else.

But the truth is I’ve loved you since fifth year, since the moment we met.

Since the day you smirked at me like you already knew all my secrets, like you had me all figured out before I’d even said a word. You were infuriating from the start—sharp-tongued, arrogant, always so bloody sure of yourself. You challenged me, teased me, riled me up just to see me snap.

And I never stood a chance.

Somewhere along the way, your laughter became my favorite sound. Your voice became my comfort. Your presence became home.

I know you—in a way I don’t think even you do. I remember everything.

The way you take your tea, strong and almost disgustingly sweet, like you’re trying to cover up the bitterness with reckless abandon.

The way you tilt your head when you’re about to say something infuriatingly smug, that damnable smirk already forming before the words have even left your mouth.

The way your brow furrows when you’re deep in thought, when you think no one’s watching.

The way your hands twitch when you’re holding back, itching to reach for your wand, to fight, to protect.

The way you bite your lip when you’re trying not to laugh.

The way your eyes—Merlin, your eyes—burn with every emotion you try to hide. You think you're so clever, so unreadable, but I see it all. The mischief, the fire, the frustration, the fleeting moments of doubt you’d never admit to. They undo me. Every damn time.

And I’ve tried, Sebastian.

I’ve tried to love someone else.

I’ve been with other boys. I’ve gone on dates and smiled at the right moments, I’ve listened when they talked, I’ve let them hold me. And I wanted to feel something—I tried to feel something.

But none of them were you.

I could no sooner remove you from my heart than I could carve it from my own body.

You are in me. In every breath, in every thought, in every moment I spend wishing things were different.

And I have long since resigned myself to the reality that this is how it will always be.

You are my best friend, and that is more important than my feelings. It has to be. Because if I ever told you—if I ever let this slip—I don’t think I could bear the consequences.

So I stay quiet.

And at night, I stare up at the canopy of my bed and let myself think about all the things I will never have.

I think about you. I think about what it would be like if I were braver. I think about how you’d react if I kissed you.

Would your eyes go half-lidded, hazy with something slow and molten? Would you pull me close, pressing me against you, against something solid and warm? Would you let me run my hands through your hair, feel the softness of it between my fingers?

I wonder how you’d taste. If your mouth would be all heat and urgency, if you’d bite my lower lip just to make me gasp. If you’d whisper my name against my skin like you’ve always known it was meant for your lips.

Would you let me have you?

I think about it at night, when it’s late and the world is quiet and I’m alone with nothing but the ache of wanting you. I press my face into my pillow, close my eyes, and let myself pretend—just for a little while—that you want me, too.

But it doesn’t really matter. Because I’ll never know.

And I know I am eighteen years old, and older people love to say that teenagers don’t know what love is. That we’re naive, foolish, that we think we’ll feel this way forever when really, it’s just a passing fancy.

But of this, of my love for you, I am more certain than I have ever been of anything.

This is not something I will grow out of. This is not something that will fade. This is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life, whether I want to or not.

And I will keep it locked away, because I would rather love you in silence than lose you forever.

So I’ll fold this letter, tuck it away, and pretend it doesn’t exist.

Because you will never know.

—Yours (though you’ll never know it),

You signed your name, sniffing as you pressed your palm against the parchment, as if you could smooth away the trembling emotions trapped in ink.

There. It’s done.

It had felt good, in a way, to let it all out. But just as you predicted, writing it down hadn’t changed anything. Hadn’t lessened the ache or made your heart any lighter. If anything, it felt heavier, the weight of your unspoken love solidified in every word scrawled across the page.

You exhaled, folding the letter carefully—almost reverently—before setting it on your bedside table. You had every intention of tucking it away in your trunk, hidden beneath layers of robes where no one would ever find it.

But exhaustion was already pressing at your bones, and you thought, I’ll do it in the morning.

So you blew out the candle, turned onto your side, and let sleep pull you under.

Sunlight streamed through the windows when you woke with a start, your stomach dropping at the realization that you’d overslept.

“Shit,” you mumbled, throwing the blankets off and scrambling to dress as your roommates bustled around, already halfway through their morning routines.

“You must’ve been exhausted,” one of them teased as you tugged your uniform into place.

You barely heard them, too busy cursing yourself for missing breakfast. By the time you grabbed your bag and rushed out of the dormitory, your mind was already occupied with the day ahead—assignments, Professor Ronen’s latest essay, and the Quidditch scrimmage planned for the afternoon.

You never even glanced at your bedside table.

Never noticed the missing letter.

Nevertheless, your day had passed by like any other.

You’d managed to dodge Sharp’s wrath over a half-finished potion, spent lunch laughing with Ominis over Sebastian’s latest disastrous attempt at sweet-talking Imelda into lending him her broom, and successfully avoided thinking too much about the letter that was supposed to be ash by now.

Everything was fine.

That was, until you walked into the Great Hall for dinner.

At first, everything seemed as it always was—the low hum of conversation, the clatter of cutlery against plates, the floating candles casting their soft golden glow over the long tables. Your stomach grumbled at the scent of roasted chicken and buttered bread, and you barely gave a thought to where you would sit as your gaze instinctively flicked to the Slytherin table.

And there he was.

Sebastian sat in his usual spot, right beside Ominis. You felt the familiar pull of his presence, the way you always did, like some unconscious part of you sought him out before you even realized it.

But then, something shifted.

Sebastian wasn’t eating.

His hands were occupied—not with a goblet or a fork, but with a piece of parchment, one he had just begun to unfold. His brow furrowed slightly as his fingers smoothed out the creases, his dark eyes scanning the words in front of him.

You barely noticed the way your heart slammed against your ribs.

Because you knew that letter.

You knew that parchment.

You knew what he was reading.

Time slowed to a crawl, your breath halting as you stood frozen in the doorway, the warmth of the Great Hall vanishing, replaced by a creeping cold that wrapped around your spine and sank its claws deep into your chest.

Sebastian’s expression went slack.

His lips parted slightly, his brows drawing together in something unreadable as his eyes flicked over the words—your words—the ones you had never intended for anyone, let alone him, to see.

Ominis was speaking beside him, his mouth moving, probably teasing him about something, but Sebastian wasn’t responding. He wasn’t reacting, wasn’t moving. He was just reading.

Your stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in your throat as panic set in.

No, no, no, no, no.

Your breath hitched, your lungs seizing in panic as your mind raced— He hasn’t finished reading it yet. He can’t have. Maybe I can get to him, grab it before he—

But then his eyes lifted. And found yours. Everything inside you froze.

His face was unreadable, his dark gaze burning into yours with something too raw, too intense to decipher. And then—

Sebastian stood to his full height.

The parchment was still in his hands, crumpled slightly in his grip, like his fingers had tightened around it involuntarily. His mouth parted, as if he were about to say something—

And that was when your body made its decision.

Run.

You spun on your heel and bolted.

You heard the scrape of Sebastian’s chair against the stone floor, the sharp inhale of Ominis beside him, the sudden uptick in murmurs as people took notice. But you couldn’t focus on any of it—only the sheer, overwhelming need to get out, to get away, to put as much distance between you and that letter as humanly possible.

Your robes billowed behind you as you pushed past a group of Ravenclaws near the entrance, ignoring their startled protests. You didn’t even know where you were going—only that you had to move.

You barely made it into the corridor when you heard it.

“Oi!”

Sebastian’s voice, sharp and demanding, echoed off the stone walls.

You risked a glance over your shoulder and immediately regretted it.

He was right behind you, his expression set in something fierce—determined. His grip was still tight around the parchment, his knuckles white, and oh, Merlin, he was gaining on you.

You whirled down a side hall, nearly colliding with a suit of armor as you ducked around a corner. The adrenaline was making your limbs feel weightless, your body moving on pure instinct. You knew—knew—that running made you look guiltier, made it clear beyond a doubt that the letter was yours, but Sebastian knew your handwriting.

There was no talking your way out of this.

So you ran.

And he followed.

“Bloody hell, will you stop running?”

No. Absolutely not.

Your heart threatened to claw its way up your throat as you rounded another corner, nearly losing your footing in your panic. You had no plan, no destination—only the singular, desperate urge to get away.

But Hogwarts was only so big.

And Sebastian Sallow was faster than you.

So you did the only thing you could think to do—you ran for the nearest exit.

The heavy wooden doors of the castle loomed ahead, and you threw yourself at them, bursting into the crisp evening air.

The temperature was cooler out here, the autumn wind biting at your skin, but you barely noticed. The sky was deep blue, streaked with the last remnants of sunset, the grounds bathed in the soft glow of torchlight.

And still, you ran.

The wide expanse of the courtyard gave you space—space to sprint, to put real distance between you and the boy who held your heart in his hands, ink-stained and utterly exposed.

But then—

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake—”

A heavy force collided into you from behind, and suddenly, the ground was no longer beneath your feet.

A startled gasp left your lips as the world tilted, and then—

You hit the grass, hard.

The weight of another body pressed down on you, solid and warm, pinning you beneath them.

For a moment, everything stilled.

The only sounds were your own ragged breaths, your pulse roaring in your ears, and the undeniable, shuddering exhale from the boy who had just tackled you to the ground.

Sebastian.

You felt him shift above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

The letter was still clutched in his fist, crumpled and worn from the chase.

And then—

“Are you absolutely mental?” His voice was breathless, frustrated—wild.

You flinched, panic curling up your spine, your body trembling beneath him.

“Sebastian,” you gasped, trying to squirm away, but he wasn’t having it.

“No.” His tone shook, his grip tightening on the ground beside you. “No, we’re going to talk about this.”

Your heart lurched. No, no, no, this wasn’t happening.

You squeezed your eyes shut, every fiber of your being screaming at you to run again, to somehow undo all of this.

But you were trapped.

Not just by his weight—not just by the way his arms and legs bracketed yours, caging you in—but by the look on his face.

His eyes.

Dark and intense, searching yours like he was trying to find an answer you hadn’t given him yet.

You swallowed, chest rising and falling too quickly, your hands curling into the grass beneath you as you tried to breathe.

Sebastian’s grip on the parchment tightened. “This—” his voice was lower now, unreadable, “—this isn’t a joke, is it?”

You swallowed, trying to force words up your throat. Your lips parted.

“I—” Your voice cracked. “I didn’t—”

“Because if it is,” he continued, his gaze darkening, intensifying, “it’s a cruel one.”

Your breath hitched, your body locking up beneath him.

A cruel joke?

"W-what?" you breathed,

Sebastian's grip on the letter was so tight now that the parchment crinkled loudly between his fingers. His other hand was still braced beside your head, his body caging you in, radiating heat, tension—something dangerous.

"You heard me," he said, his voice rough, barely controlled. "Is this a joke? Some sort of—of—prank?"

The very thought made your stomach twist. How could he—how could he even think—

"Of course not!" The words came out more forcefully than you intended, your panic spiking.

His jaw clenched. "Then why the fuck did you run?"

"Because!" You spluttered, incredulous. "You-you were- how the hell did you even get that?!"

Sebastian let out a sharp laugh, shaking the crumpled parchment between his fingers. “How did I get it? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it was sent in the mail?!” His gaze burned into yours. “And it had my bloody name on it?!

"But I never sent it! I—" The words caught in your throat, a frantic, garbled mess of emotion and panic. You couldn't even think straight, not with him right there, not with his weight pressing you down, his breath still ragged from chasing you.

Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, so it just magically appeared in the post? Someone sent it, and seeing as it’s your handwriting, your words—your fucking confession—I’d say that narrows down the list of suspects."

Your mouth opened and closed, but your brain refused to supply a logical defense.

You had left it out.

And your roommates—oh Merlin, they must have seen it, assumed you had forgotten to send it, and done you the favor of making sure it got delivered.

Your breath shuddered as the weight of it all crashed over you, the full, awful realization that everything was ruined.

Tears burned behind your eyes, hot and humiliating, and before you could stop them, they spilled over, sliding down your temples into the grass beneath you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, voice thick and uneven. “I—I never meant for you to see it. I was going to burn it, I swear—”

Sebastian’s entire body jerked like you’d just hexed him.

His anger—sharp and scorching only moments ago—immediately cracked, giving way to something horrified, something panicked.

“Oh—fuck,” he breathed, his grip on the parchment loosening as his weight shifted. “Shit, no—don’t—”

And then, in a blur of movement, he was off you, scrambling backward like he’d just been hit with a Stunning Spell.

You sucked in a breath at the sudden loss of warmth, blinking up at him through wet lashes as he kneeled beside you, hands lifting slightly like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how.

“I’m not mad at you,” he rushed out, voice hoarse, urgent. “I swear, I’m not—I just—fuck, I didn’t mean to—”

You buried your face in your hands, curling in on yourself as the shame closed in.

“No, it’s my fault,” you rasped, words strangled and raw. “I should have just—kept my feelings to myself. I should have never written it down, I don’t know why I—”

"Hey, hey—" His voice was softer now, no longer demanding, no longer frantic. A warm hand hovered near your shoulder, hesitant, but you were already spiraling.

"I—Merlin, why did I even listen to Witch Weekly?" You let out a miserable, watery laugh, rubbing furiously at your face as you tried—and failed—to control the mess of emotion in your chest.

Sebastian made a noise, almost like a pained laugh, but his eyes were still frantic, still burning with something raw and unsteady.

“So... it’s true?” His voice was quieter now, rough, but no less intense. “What you wrote?”

His fingers finally touched your wrist—not enough to pull your hands away, but enough that you felt it. Enough that it sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Tell me,” he murmured, and you could hear the strain in his voice now.

Slowly, painfully, you lowered your hands from your face.

Sebastian’s gaze burned into you, desperate and unreadable.

Your throat was tight, your breath uneven.

But you couldn’t lie.

So you nodded.

A sharp exhale left him, his hand dropping from your wrist to clench in the grass beside him. His head tilted back slightly, his jaw tight, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair again.

You winced. "I know," you whispered, curling your arms around yourself. "I know. I'm sorry. You can just—just forget about it, okay? I know it's probably weird, and you don't feel the same, and I just—I'll move on, alright? I can—I can pretend this never happened, if that's what you want—"

Sebastian let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.

And then he lunged for you,

Before you could even react, he was on you again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. The force of it knocked the breath from your lungs, your hands flying up to brace against his chest as he rolled, flipping the both of you over until you were the one on top, sprawled against the solid warmth of his body.

A startled noise left your lips as he crushed you into his chest, his arms locking around you like a vice. His heartbeat pounded beneath your cheek, wild and erratic, his breathing uneven.

"You're such an idiot," he muttered into your hair, his voice rough, still shaking with disbelief.

Your brain was struggling to keep up.

"W-what—?"

"You think I don’t feel the same?" He let out a breathless, almost hysterical laugh, tightening his hold around you. "Merlin, do you even hear yourself?"

Your stomach flipped, something warm and dangerous flooding your veins.

Sebastian's grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened, his hand splaying wide against the small of your back, pressing you even closer to him.

"You’re not moving on," he said fiercely. "You’re mine."

Your breath hitched. "Wh-what?"

Sebastian groaned, his head dropping back against the grass, his fingers flexing against you like he was barely holding himself together. "Fuck, do you even know what you've done to me?"

You swallowed hard, your fingers still curled in his robes, every inch of you hyper-aware of just how close you were.

"I—"

"You've wrecked me," he muttered, almost like an accusation. "I thought—I thought I was losing my mind. You had to know, you had to have noticed—"

"Noticed what?" you whispered, your voice barely there.

Sebastian let out a shaky breath, and then his hands slid up your back, one curling around the base of your skull, the other gripping your waist, firm.

"Noticed how fucking obsessed I am with you."

Your body locked up.

He flipped you again, faster this time, pressing you down into the grass beneath him, his weight heavy over yours. His breath was ragged, his expression wild, his eyes—

His eyes.

Dark, burning, hungry.

"I love you," he murmured, his voice almost pleading, like he needed you to hear it, to understand. "I’ve loved you for so fucking long."

"You—" The words tangled in your throat, your hands fisting in the fabric of his robes. "You don't have to say that just because you—because you feel bad—"

A sharp sound left his throat—something between a laugh and a growl, something raw and frustrated.

"Are you serious right now?" His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin through the fabric of your robes. "You think I’m saying this out of pity?"

You flinched, shaking your head quickly. "I just—I don’t understand—"

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, dropping his forehead to yours for a fleeting second, like he needed the contact just to ground himself. "You really don’t know, do you?"

Your breath was uneven, your mind spinning. "Know what?"

Sebastian exhaled sharply, and then—

He kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was a claim.

His mouth crashed against yours, desperate, consuming, like he’d been starving for this.

A shocked noise slipped from you, but he swallowed it, pressing closer, deeper, one hand sliding into your hair while the other anchored itself at your waist.

Heat flooded through you, overwhelming and intoxicating, sending shivers down your spine.

You had imagined this before—god, you had imagined this in the dark, alone, staring at your canopy and aching for him—but nothing could have prepared you for the way he felt.

The way he took. The way he gave.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he tilted your head back and kissed you again—harder, deeper, like he was trying to ruin you.

Like he needed you as badly as you needed him.

"Still think I'm lying?" he murmured against your lips, his voice a rough, wicked thing.

You shook your head, dazed, your fingers curling into his robes as you pulled him closer, your answer slipping out between gasps.

"N-no."

Sebastian smirked against your mouth, his grip tightening.

"Good," he breathed. "Because I'm never letting you go."

[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.

[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.

[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.

[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

───────────────────────────────────

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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[biblical-chronicles]

Custard creams

_________________________________________

where Liam is pressured to confess with the power of a biscuit tin (and Noel)

_________________________________________

Liam had a problem. A you problem.

For as long as he could remember, you’d been there—his childhood best friend, his partner-in-crime, the only person who could talk him down when he was about to kick off. It was no secret to anyone (except maybe you) that Liam was completely gone for you. Proper gone. You were always on his mind, always the one he looked for when he needed grounding, always the one he wanted to impress.

The problem was, Liam didn’t know how to deal with feelings exactly. He could weave his way through most things, puffing his chest out and pretending he didn’t give a toss about owt, but when it came to you? You turned him into a fumbling idiot. He’d tried asking you out a handful of times, but every single attempt had gone belly up. Either he bottled it, or Noel, or Bonehead, or someone else interrupted at just the wrong moment, or Liam just decided it wasn’t 'perfect enough' to do you justice.

And so, here he was, stuck in this weird limbo where everyone but the two of you could see the obvious fact that you two fancied each other stupid.

It was a Saturday afternoon when Noel finally hit his breaking point. The two brothers had popped into the local shop to grab a few bits—crisps, fags, a couple of cans—nothing fancy. Liam was trailing behind Noel, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and glancing around aimlessly when something caught his eye.

“Oi, get those.” Liam said, nodding toward the shelf of biscuits.

Noel stopped mid-stride, turning to look at his brother with raised eyebrows. “What, custard creams? Since when do you give a toss about biscuits?”

“They’re not for me, are they, you div,” Liam shot back, his cheeks going slightly pink. “She likes ’em.”

Noel blinked, then let out a long-suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’d just been handed the most exhausting news of his life. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Liam. I can’t do this anymore. You’re gone, mate. Properly gone. It’s embarrassing.”

“Shut yer gob.” Liam muttered, grabbing the tin of biscuits himself and shoving them into the basket Noel was holding.

“No, I’m serious,” Noel continued, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “I’ve had to listen to you bang on about her every bloody day for years. ‘She said this, she did that, she’s well fit, Noel, do you reckon she’d go for a lad like me?’”

Liam groaned. “I don’t sound like that.”

“You do,” Noel shot back, grinning now because he could tell he was winding him up. “And now we’re buying custard creams for her like a pair of mugs. D’you think she’s gonna fall at your feet just ’cause you’ve turned up with some fuckin’ biscuits?”

“Just get the fuckin’ tin, Noel.”

“No, I’m serious, mate. When are you gonna do something about it? She’s not gonna wait around forever, y’know. Especially since all you have the balls for to offer her are some custard creams.”

Liam glared at him, his jaw tight. “It’s not that easy, is it? You don’t know her like I do. She’s… she’s proper good, Noel. Too good for me.”

Noel stared at him, his teasing grin fading slightly. “Liam,” he said, his tone softer now. “She’s mad about you. Everyone knows it. You just need to stop pissin’ about and ask her out.”

Liam shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at his brother. “Yeah, well. I told you It’s not that simple.”

Noel rolled his eyes, tossing a bag of crisps into the basket. “You’re hopeless, y’know that? I’m gonna have to sort this for you at this rate. Can’t be arsed watching you mope about anymore.”

“Don’t you dare.” Liam warned, but Noel just smirked and sauntered off toward the till.

Once he paid for the shopping, he turned to Liam and lifted the little plastic bag he was holding. “Right, I’ll take this back to the studio, yeah? Gotta grab summat I forgot, but I’ll be back in, like, twenty minutes. No point hangin’ around.”

“Yeah, sound,” Liam said, relieved at the thought of not dealing with his brother’s commentary for a bit. “See you round, then.”

He started walking off, waving a hand over his shoulder, but then paused mid-step, spinning on his heel. “Oi, what about the biscuits?”

Noel grinned, already halfway out the door. “You'll get ’em tomorrow, you soft git. They won’t go stale overnight, will they?”

Liam rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, and headed in the opposite direction.

Noel waited until he was sure his younger brother was out of sight, then made a sharp turn down the street toward your place. The biscuits weren’t going to wait until tomorrow after all.

Your flat wasn’t far from the shop, a little tucked-away place that Noel knew well from the handful of times he’d either been there or had to drag Liam out of. He made quick work of the walk, pulling the custard creams out of the shopping bag and tucking them under his arm as he knocked on your door.

A few moments later, you opened it, your face lighting up in surprise when you saw him. “Noel?”

“Alright?” he said casually, holding the tin out to you. “These are for you.”

You blinked, glancing down at the biscuits and then back up at him, confused. “Custard creams?”

“Yeah. Liam spotted ’em in the shop and thought of you. Wanted you to have ’em.”

Your eyebrows shot up, and you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms. “Oh, did he now? Where is he, then?”

“Stuck at the studio,” Noel said smoothly, leaning a little on the doorframe himself. “Manager’s been on his arse all afternoon, but he insisted I drop these off for you. Proper nice of him, yeah? Got the tin not the plastic pack, how thoughtful.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing against the tin as you took it. “That’s sweet of him. Tell him thanks for me when you see him.”

Noel chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah, you can thank him yourself. Told me to ask if you wanted to meet him down at the pub after the session finishes. Said he’s got summat dead important to tell you.”

That caught your attention, your expression shifting slightly. “Dead important? Should I be scared?”

“No, no,” Noel said quickly, waving a hand like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “Nothin’ heavy. Just… y’know, dress nice, yeah? Don’t let him peg it, though. He needs to say it.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment before a soft smile spread across your face. “Alright, Noel. Tell him I’ll be there.”

“That’s more like it,” he said, straightening up. “And don’t forget, you owe me now for playin’ messenger.”

You laughed, shaking your head as he turned to leave. “Thanks for delivering the biscuits, Noel.”

“Anytime, love.” he called over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips.

The pub was buzzing, not packed to the brim but busy enough for some privacy. Noel slipped into the booth opposite Liam, dropping his pint onto the table with a clink. His brother was slumped over, tapping a restless rhythm on the edge of his glass.

“Alright, mate?” Noel asked, smirking as he leaned back against the worn leather of the booth.

“What do you want now?” Liam grumbled, barely looking up.

“To tell you that your soon to be bird’ll be here any minute now.” Noel said casually, watching his brother freeze mid-tap.

Liam’s head shot up, eyes narrowing. “What the fuck d’you mean? Why’s she comin’ here?”

Noel shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Caught her earlier on me way back from the studio. Said she was walkin' to the shop and asked about you, so I told her you’d be here. She asked if she could swing by, so I said yeah.”

“You what?” Liam hissed, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the pub noise.

“Relax,” Noel said, holding up his hands like he hadn’t just thrown a grenade into Liam’s already frayed nerves. “Perfect chance for you to grow a pair and tell her how you feel, innit?”

Liam glared at him, his jaw clenched tight. “I can’t just tell her, you knobhead. What if—”

“Oh, here we go,” Noel groaned, cutting him off. “You’ve been dancin’ round her for years. She’s mad about you, mate. Everyone sees it except you two.”

Liam opened his mouth to argue, but Noel leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Listen, you’ve gotta stop pissin’ about. She’s too good to wait forever, and frankly, I’m tired of watchin’ you make doe eyes at her like a lost puppy. Just tell her.”

Liam stared at him, the frustration bubbling just under the surface. He wanted to say something, anything, but before he could, Noel’s eyes flicked toward the door.

“Oh, look,” Noel said, grinning as he stood up. “Your date’s here. Don’t cock it up, yeah?”

“Noel, you absolute—”

But Noel was already gone, leaving Liam to scramble for composure as you walked toward him, a warm smile on your face.

“Hi, Liam.” you greeted him, slipping out of your coat before leaning in to hug him.

“Alright?” he muttered, his voice a little too gruff as he tried to play it cool.

You slid into the booth across from him, settling in comfortably. “Thanks for the biscuits, by the way. That was really sweet of you.”

Liam blinked, his mind racing. Biscuits? What biscuits? He felt his mouth move before his brain could catch up. “Cheers, yeah.”

You tilted your head, amused by his distracted tone. He seemed… off tonight. Nervous, even. You let it slide, figuring he was just shifty after the long session Noel was on about earlier.

For a few minutes, you chatted about nothing in particular, but Liam wasn’t really responding, his replies short and vague. Finally, you leaned forward, resting your arms on the table.

“Are you alright, Liam?” you asked softly, your brows knitting together in concern. “You seem… I don’t know, distracted.”

“Yeah, fine,” he mumbled, though his foot was bouncing under the table, betraying his nerves.

“Do you wanna step outside?” you offered. “Get some air?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding quickly. “Yeah. Good idea.”

The crisp evening air hit you both as you stepped outside, the din of the pub fading behind you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, glancing over at Liam as he downed the rest of his pint putting it down with slightly shaky hands.

“You sure you’re okay?” you asked again, your voice tainted with worry.

He just loudly exhaled, his gaze fixed on the pavement. “Yeah. Just…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Dunno.”

You leaned against the wall beside him, studying his profile. Something was definitely on his mind, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with you.

“Liam,” you said softly, your tone gentle but insistent. “Do you have summat you want to tell me?”

He froze, slowly turning to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

This was it. Noel’s voice echoed in his head, urging him to stop mucking about. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it ring in his ear.

“I…” He hesitated, the words caught in his throat. But then he saw the way you were looking at him—patient, kind, like you’d wait forever for him to find the courage. And suddenly, it didn’t seem so impossible.

“I like you,” he blurted out, his voice rough but honest. “Proper like you. Always have.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he thought he’d completely bottled it. But then you smiled, your cheeks flushing as you stepped closer.

“Liam,” you said softly, your voice trembling just a little. “I like you too. I have for ages. I just… didn’t think you felt the same.”

He stared at you, stunned. “You’re takin’ the piss.” he said finally, his voice thick with disbelief.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not at all. I mean it.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension thick between you. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, Liam leaned down and kissed you.

It was a little clumsy at first, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right, but when you kissed him back, all his nerves melted away. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his heart still racing.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you grinned up at him. “Who’d have thought it’d be custard creams that got us together?”

Liam blinked, confused. “Custard creams?”

You laughed, your arms still looped around his neck. “Yeah, the ones Noel gave me. Said they were from you.”

Realization dawned, and he groaned, resting his forehead against yours. “Of course it was fucking Noel.” he muttered.

_________________________________________

sorry in advance to any of you lot who do not enjoy a custard cream

also, loved usin' Noel as an uber eats driver here pretty much

and tomorrow I'll be sittin' down to scribble New arrival pt.2 down, so be ready xx

[samantitaswrld]

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.

[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!!

[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.

[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.