#girl take a breather once in a while. go back into the woods. i liked you better when i didn't have to hear about your life

[lecoindecachou]

I feel bad for Joe Alwyn bc the dude literally never does anything to attract media attention and yet Taylor and her posse will not leave him alone. She has such a high school mean girl mentality and the older she is the sadder it gets.

[percervall]

Mamma mia, here I go again {pt5}

Summary: A summer of poor decisions leads you to having to face the consequences of your actions —and the men involved. Pairing: Kevin Magnussen x fem!reader, Lewis Hamilton x fem!reader, Mark Webber x fem!reader Warnings: talk of pregnancy, mentions of a past relationship, Mark being a dick Word count: 2.5k Taglist: @ashy-kit @averagef1fansblog @barcelonaloverf1life @bradfordbantams @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @exotic-iris13 @goldsainz @iloveneteyam @jaypreshpresh @laura-naruto-fan1998 @monzamash @norrisleclercf1 @opheliaas-stuff @roseseraj @szobosz @vellicora

Part 5 of the Mamma Mia series

Despite the fact that you had just had the summer break, not having a race weekend after Monza comes as a welcome breather. It allows you to catch up on tasks you had been neglecting. You finally managed to clean your flat and had just finished the last load of laundry that morning. It also allowed you time to finally schedule an appointment with a clinic to get a scan done. It had felt surreal, getting the black and white confirmation of the pregnancy. You’re still not sure if having a baby is the smartest move right now, but the relief you felt when you saw that the pregnancy was where it’s supposed to be and the heartbeat left you feeling even more confused about the whole situation. Trying your hardest to push all of that to the side, you change into your workout clothes and roll out your yoga mat. At this point you just need 15 minutes of not thinking about anything and you had found yoga to be a great help. As you centre yourself, focussing on your body and breathing through the poses, you begin to feel calmer. Taking another deep breath, you move into the next pose. The calm energy is rudely interrupted by your phone ringing. For a second you consider just letting it go to voicemail but the sound of the phone buzzing on the table is too much of a distraction to ignore. Huffing in annoyance, you get up from the floor.

“Hello?” 

“Hello to you too, sweetheart. Am I interrupting something?” 

“Yes, my workout,” you retort, rolling your eyes at Mark’s tone.

“Mm, if you need a hand let me know,” he says and you can just picture the look on his face. Smug son of a bitch.

“For fuck’s sake..” you mutter, “Get to the point or I’m hanging up.” 

“Oh sweetheart, I’m only teasing.” 

“Mark, I’m not doing this. Again, get to the point or I will hang up,” you reply.

“RIght, yes. I’m in your neck of the woods this week for some meetings and I was wondering whether you’d like to come over for dinner on Thursday? I know typically you’d take a girl out on a date, but I think there’s a few things that have gone left unsaid for far too long.” 

“I-.. I’d like that very much, Mark.” Despite his constant flirting, you’re grateful that he offers the both of you an opportunity to talk.

“I can pick you up if you want or you can drive so you have an out if you need it. I don’t-.. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” You can hear the sincerity in his voice and it breaks your heart a little bit that this is what is left of the relationship you once had with him. 

“Thanks Mark, I don’t mind driving. Not because of the reasons you named, but I don’t want to inconvenience you by having to drive this way twice. Just text me the address and a time and I’ll be there.” Your phone buzzes against your face, indicating you have received a new message.

“You should have it now. Okay, I’ll let you get back to your workout.” You both say your goodbyes before hanging up. You put the phone down on the table and stare out of the windows in your living room, lost in memories. 

Mark and you met in 2012, while he still drove in Formula 1. You had just graduated university with a degree in Mathematics and Engineering, and your thesis had somehow made its way to the desk of Christian Horner. And so, there you were: 23 years old and bright eyed, using the tool you had developed for your thesis to analyse simulator data and translating that into adjustments needed to the set up of the car to extract its maximum potential. While you mainly worked on Sebastian’s side of the garage, you often bumped into Mark during race weekends, always ready with a comment that should’ve gotten him written up. Mark was everything you needed in a man at that point in your life and it felt so good to feel wanted, to feel desired. And then 2013 happened. 

You have to physically shake your head to stop going down that rabbit hole, only now noticing how hard you’re gripping the back of a chair. Exhaling deeply, you let go, flexing your fingers to get rid of the tension. Despite knowing you need to have this conversation before either of you can even think about second chances, you’re not looking forward to reliving how it all fell apart. 

+

Thursday approaches a lot faster than you had anticipated, work keeping you busy even if there wasn’t a race. Having already showered, you’re now standing in front of your wardrobe trying to decide on what to wear. The old you would have gone for something frilly and short. Mark loved seeing you in these tiny summer dresses, and you loved how his hand felt on your bare thigh, allowing him to easily slide up under your dress while you were out for team dinners and tease you mercilessly. Chewing your bottom lip, you peruse your options. Despite it being September, it’s still a balmy 22 ℃ although it will probably cool off during the course of the evening. Feeling the need to reclaim a part of you that Mark stole from you, you decide to go for a dress. Even if you no longer wear those short, cutesy dresses, you still love how dresses make you feel. There’s a femininity that you sometimes feel out of sync with because of your job. It feels empowering, dressing up in a world built for men. Your eyes fall on a recent purchase –a flowy midi length dress in a gorgeous burnt orange. Slipping it on, you brush your fingers over the soft linen fabric, admiring the way the gold buttons catch the sunlight. It’s casual enough for tonight, but it gives you that little boost of confidence that you know you will need to make it through Mark’s relentless flirting. Closing the door of your wardrobe, you slip on a pair of sandals and grab your purse before heading out. 

It turns out that Mark lives a lot closer to you than you had expected when you first looked at the address he sent you. You park the car on the paved driveway in front of the detached house in the outskirts of Oxford, taking in its grandeur. You remember Mark telling you about how his family would come over for the holidays sometimes and so the extra bedrooms make sense. As you slam your door shut, you spot Mark in the door opening.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greets you and you let him pull you into a hug.

“Hey,” you reply softly, following him inside. Mark leads you to a large open kitchen-dining space before offering you something to drink. 

“Wasn’t sure whether you’d want to eat outside or not,” Mark says as he hands you a glass.

“Might as well make the most of this warm weather,” you reply with a smile. Mark returns your smile and takes you outside through the large French doors in the kitchen. 

“Dinner’s almost ready. Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable and I’ll join you in a moment.” 

You do as he asks, taking in the landscaping from your spot on the patio. It doesn’t take long for Mark to start bringing out the dishes, refusing your help. 

“I might’ve gone a little overboard,” he admits sheepishly as he brings out the final dish. The grilled asparagus should’ve been a giveaway, but you can’t help but feel touched when Mark places a lamb roast on the table.

“I can’t believe you remembered,” you say, throat closing with tears.

“How could I forget? It’s not every day you find a pretty girl crying quietly in the corner of the garage after a race –which we won by the way– because she missed her nan’s Sunday roast. She always made lamb, right?” Mark says. You nod and try to swallow back tears.

“Thanks Mark, this-.. This means a lot to me,” you whisper. Mark smiles softly and gives your hand a squeeze. 

During dinner, the conversation mainly revolves around catching up. Mark tells you all about managing McLaren’s rookie driver and how he’s finding it to work at Channel 4 with David. You update him on your appointment, showing the little sonogram picture. 

“So everything’s okay with the baby?” he asks, an anxious look in his eyes.

“Uhu, so far so good. They estimated that I’m about 7 weeks along now.” Mark looks back down at the picture on your phone, a large finger tracing it gently as he smiles. Seeing him so enamoured by the tiny blob on the sonogram brings up a mix of emotions for you; it warms your heart to see him like this, but it also terrifies you that those feelings for him never went away and how easy it is to fall back in step with him. 

“You’d look so hot in those maternity dresses,” Mark comments, his tone flirtatious, “You always look hot in a dress. I still dream about that pink one with the hearts you wore to dinner after Silverstone. You looked so innocent in that dress, but we both knew you were anything but.” 

And then he goes and says shit like that, and it all comes tumbling down like a house of cards. 

“I no longer dress for you, Mark. You lost that privilege a long time ago,” you retort, voice even but there’s an edge to it. You remember the dress he is talking about, remember what he is referring to. Before your food even arrived at the table, Mark had dragged you into the bathroom. He had made some comment about how pretty you looked but how you’d look even prettier on your knees with your mouth wrapped around his cock, and so that’s what you did. That was how your relationship worked: Mark would make a suggestive comment and you would obey without a second thought. Of course he always made sure he took care of you; he was the one who helped you discover you could experience multiple orgasms, would always clean you up afterwards and run you a bath. But despite all this, he always took what he wanted from you first. You wish you could have protected your younger self against the heartbreak that was headed your way, against the feeling of being lost at sea after Mark left you alone in that hotel room with nothing more than the remnants of his fingerprints on your skin. After the dust had settled, you had promised yourself never again; you would never allow yourself to be in that position again. 

“I’m sorry,” Mark says, breaking you from your spiralling thoughts, “for- I’m sorry for how it all went down, how I treated you. You deserved so much better than that,” he adds, referring to the note he left you after that final race in Brazil. 

“Why did you leave me?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Because I couldn’t drag you into my mess. You had your entire career still ahead of you while I needed to get out. That last season was a shitshow, despite the fact that Seb won the Driver’s and RedBull the Constructor’s. I was sick and tired of how the team favoured Seb. I had nothing left to give..” 

“You shut me out, I thought we were in it together.. Or was I just a means to get back at Sebastian?” It’s impossible to not sound bitter, hurt evident in your tone.

“No, Jesus, no sweetheart. You know it started out as a way to annoy him, but my feelings for you were genuine; I loved you, and in many ways still do.” Regret is written all over his face when your eyes meet his. You know your relationship back then was complicated. Of course there was the age gap –Mark is a good 13 years older than you– which somehow trickled into the bedroom where he showed you things that made your previous boyfriends look like clueless little boys by comparison. And as every naive 20-something-year-old with daddy issues would have done, you fell head over heels in love with him, giving him your heart and your body. 

“You broke a piece of me that day that I might not ever get back,” you whisper.

“And I will spend the rest of my life regretting the way I handled things. You’re right, I should’ve been open and honest with you instead of walking out on us,” Mark says, taking your hand in his.

“I’ve spent ten years avoiding you. The ghost of you haunted me in that garage and so when Mercedes called, I took it with both hands. I was a mess those first years, somehow still hoping you’d come back for me. And then it became painfully clear you weren’t and I mourned the loss of you all over again. I hated you for what you did to me, hated myself even more for ever allowing you to get close enough to hurt me, for still being in love with you despite it all. The last ten years I’ve spent building up walls so I wouldn’t have to feel like that version of me again, and look where that’s gotten me.” You laugh humorlessly, biting your lip to stop the tears from falling. “I have become the very definition of a cliche, entangled in a love square and too scared to let any of them in.” 

Before you really know what’s happening, Mark pulls you out of your seat and into his lap. Your legs dangle over the arm of the chair and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. 

“I need you to listen carefully, okay sweetheart? If anyone deserves to take the blame for what happened, it’s me. And if you’ll let me, I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how worthy of love you are. I know all three of us will. You might have a hard time letting us in right now, but baby you need to know that we’re all in if you are. You are worth waiting for.” You take a deep breath, inhaling his cologne. The scent of it helps to calm you down, it reminding you of the lazy mornings spent in bed cuddling. 

“You’re the second person to tell me that,” you mumble as you look up at him. Mark smiles, brushing away your tears with his thumb and cradles your cheek in his palm.

“Then it must be true.” 

You smile back at him, albeit timidly and snuggle into him once more. Alice’s words from a week prior echo in your head. “Keeping your heart shut like this, it’s safe but also lonely.” You’re beginning to wonder whether the cost has been far greater than the benefits of keeping romance at bay. Doing so hurt a good man; had you been able to allow Kevin in completely, you know he would have made you feel safe and loved. You also know Kevin deserves better –hell, you deserve better, but knowing and doing are two very different things, and right now you’re not sure if you’ll ever be ready for this level of love –from any of them.  

Welp, there you have it. Date no.2 🙊

Again, a massive thank you to @curiousthyme and @szobosz for being my beta readers for this chapter, and a shoutout to @monzamash for helping me with figuring out the details for this date

Please feel free to let let me know what you think; your comments, tags and likes mean the absolute world to me 💜

I'm gonna take the holidays off from posting this fic to just relax (and maybe get some more writing done, who knows?), so the last date will be posted in the new year on the 6th. Wishing you all a merry Christmas and all the best for the new year!

[potter-imagines]

Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)

Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about

Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)

Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.

When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.

Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.

Hermione looked back to the group and asked,

“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”

“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.

Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.

Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.

“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“

Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.

“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.

“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”

The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.

Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.

“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.

He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.

So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.

Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.

Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.

Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.

This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.

The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.

By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.

Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.

His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.

It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.

For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.

Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.

Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,

“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”

As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.

Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.

Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.

Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.

“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.

Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,

“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”

A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.

“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.

Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.

“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“

Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.

Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.

“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.

George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,

“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.

“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”

Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,

“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?

George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to

“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.

George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“

“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.

Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,

“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“

“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”

George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.

George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.

As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.

Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.

For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.

Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.

Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.

As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.

Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.

Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.

Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking

“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.

“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.

“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”

Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.

“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”

“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.

Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.

For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.

Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.

Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.

At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.

Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,

“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”

Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.

George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,

“Should I leave?”

Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,

“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.

All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.

Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.

It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.

Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.

He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,

“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”

Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.

George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.

Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.

For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.

“As I was saying, George…”

Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.

Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.

Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.

The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.

Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.

She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,

“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.

“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”

“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.

“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.

Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.

“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.

“What?”

Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.

His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.

The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,

“I’m so happy you came, darling.”

Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.

Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.

Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.

“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.

The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.

Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,

“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.

Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,

“I’ve missed your voice, love.”

Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.

Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,

“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.

Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.

Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.

“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”

“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.

“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.

“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.

The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.

“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”

“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”

“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”

A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.

She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,

“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”

Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.

Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.

“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.

A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.

They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.

The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.

Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.

Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.

This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.

Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,

“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”

Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”

Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.

“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,

“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.

“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.

Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.

After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.

“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”

Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.

Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.

[sacredsorceress]

Paint || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter sees a figure walking through the trees during his run and investigates only to meet a girl named y/n painting in the woods.

a/n: requested by anon! a short and sweet meeting story.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter was almost regretting his decision to join the Avengers at the moment. Nearly getting himself killed dozens of times by adversaries was nothing compared to the run Cap had him and the other Avengers going on in what he considered to be the middle of nowhere. Although he had superhuman abilities that had definitely aided in his run at the beginning, he could feel himself struggling for air and his legs beginning to ache.

A few of the others had already fallen behind a while back and Peter felt himself about to trip over his own feet as he began to run slower.

“Getting tired?” None other than Steve himself asked, running up behind him.

Peter jumped, but then began to push himself to run faster. “N-no. No sir.” Peter huffed. “This... is... easy.”

Cap eyed Peter. “You should take a breather, kid. There’s no harm in that.”

Although Peter was always one to go out of his way to impress the Avengers- especially Captain America- he could barely breathe and his whole body felt like it was just begging for him to take a break.

“A- are you... sure?” Peter asked in between breaths.

“You know your way back?” Steve asked, matching Peter’s pace.

Peter, running out of breath, no longer able to speak just nodded.

“Alright kid. I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

And with that, he picked up his pace, leaving Peter behind. Peter slowed to a stop and doubled over with his hands on his knees, heaving and struggling for breath. He attempted to salute in Cap’s direction, but he had already run past Peter’s point of view.

Still breathing heavy and exhausted, Peter stumbled over to the side of the road and flopped down on his back onto the grass. He turned his head to the side and as he did he saw a figure making their way through the trees.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “H- hey!” He called, but no one answered.

Peter pulled himself up, balancing himself on his elbows to get a better look before calling again. “Hello?”

After he once again did not receive an answer, he pulled himself onto his feet. He questioned whether he really did see someone or if the figure was just a figment of his imagination. He was unable to ask any of the others for reassurance since they either fell behind a while ago or they were ahead with Steve. Deciding to trust this own instincts, Peter began walking through the woods, using his “Peter tingle” as Aunt May liked to call it, to know where to go.

He stopped when he heard the snap of a twig and the rustling of leaves. Following the noise, he carefully walked over the branches scattered across the ground, not trying to alarm whoever he had just followed into the woods. As he approached where the noise had come from, he stopped and attempted to hide himself behind a tree.

In front of him he saw a girl pulling a chair up and off from the top of a table, onto the ground. He watched as she sat down in the chair, opening the bag at her side and pulling out a pad of paper, along with a tray of what he assumed to be paint and brushes. 

He knew he probably should have turned around and that this was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help but watch as she painted. He was lured in by how peaceful she seemed. Around them was a peaceful quiet, with only the sounds of birds and the breeze flowing through the trees able to be heard. 

It was so much different than what he had been used to. Even before he discovered that he had superpowers, he had lived in the city and there seemed to never be a moment of complete silence- from sirens at all hours of the day to groups of people chatting outside his window at all hours of the night. He thought he had found peace in the noise, but he had barely known the peacefulness of quiet.

Now that he was Spider-Man, it was even harder to find peace whether he was in the city protecting locals or tagging along with the Avengers to save humanity. He was so busy all of the time, it was difficult for him to find peace and quiet, never mind the serenity he felt around him in this exact moment.

Just as he was becoming lost in his own thoughts, he was pulled out of them by the snapping of a twig beneath his feet. As he did, his eyes went wide and he watched as the unnamed girl, jumped from her seat to her feet, scattering brushes and papers along the ground.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry!” He spoke.

“Who are you?” She asked. “Did you... did you follow me?”

He could tell her heart rate was speeding up, worried that some random boy had followed her into the woods. That’s fair, he thought.

“No!” He said, quickly. “I mean yeah- yes. But not in a creepy way! I just saw someone walk into the woods and I called and no one said anything so I- I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”

She just stared at him.

“You know what? I should go. Yeah. I’m gonna leave you alone.” He said, about to turn around.

“Wait.” She called, finally speaking up and stopping him. “Are you... an Avenger?” 

Now his heart was the one racing. “What? No!” He chuckled nervously. “Why... what would make you think that?”

She smiled, pointing at his t-shirt. “Because you have their logo on your shirt and it’s the only place out here for like a mile.”

Peter glanced down at the gray t-shirt he was wearing with the Avengers logo printed across his chest. Quickly, he attempted to spin a lie. “Oh this? No. Nope.” He shook his head. “I just... work... at the Avengers Compound. I... hand out waters and stuff to um Thor and ya know... other... people.”

There was a pause as the they stared at each other.

“I’m Y/n.” You told him, moving your hand out to shake his.

He calmed down as you introduced yourself and your own heart settled, knowing now that you weren’t scared of him- meaning you either believed what he said or just simply accepted his lie about working at the Avengers Compound. It wasn’t a whole lie, he told himself though. He did “work” there and occasionally, as the youngest person there, was asked to fetch water from time to time.

“Peter.” He said, taking your hand. “So... what are you doing out here?”

You then remembered what you had come out here for in the first place. You spun around turning back to look at your set up. “Oh!” You exclaimed. “I come out here sometimes to paint. It's really peaceful, you know?”

Peter nodded. He had just been thinking the same thing before he first saw you. It had been difficult for him to know peace for a long time, but here he felt as though he could breath even if it was for a short time.

“I know what you mean.” He told you, then glancing at the mess he had caused when he first spooked you. “Let me help.” He smiled, gesturing to the paint brushes and loose papers scattered along the floor.

You turned around, looking at the mess behind you. “You don’t have to. It’s okay!” You told him, striding over to your workspace and beginning to haphazardly organize the area.

Despite your assurances that you could clean up yourself, Peter followed behind you and began picking up your scattered paintings on the ground.

“You did all of these yourself?” He asked.

You watched as Peter stared at each of your quick paintings in his hand. He, admittedly, did not understand much about art, but he was in awe at the work he saw in front of him. The paintings he held in his hands depicted what he believed to be fairies sitting light as a feather on flowers and hidden in the trees. The design itself was soft and gentle and he was afraid to ruin something so precious in his hands. 

“Yeah,” You chuckled.

“They’re really good.” He told you, impressed. “I wish I could do stuff like this. How do you even do this?”

You smiled. A part of you was always nervous showing your paintings to someone else, especially a stranger, but it made you feel warm inside to have this cute, sweaty boy complimenting you on your art and impressed with your skill.

“Everyone has their thing.” You told him. “What about you?”

Peter then thought about his abilities, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t divulge on his strengths without the risk of exposing his identity. Although he couldn’t share that part of himself with you- someone he just met- it made him remember who he was without his abilities- the skills and talents he possessed without the assistance of an accidental spider bite.

“My friend and I build lego sets.” He shrugged.

“That can’t be it.” You laughed. “Come on! What are things you’re good at?”

Peter hadn’t been asked that question in regards to just himself in a while. He felt that people only cared about him recently because he was Spider-Man, not because he was Peter Parker. It felt good for someone to care about him for more than the things he couldn’t control.

“Sciency stuff I guess.” He told you as the two of you stood up and he handed you back your paintings.

You smiled, accepting the pages back and placing them on the table. “See! And you thought you weren’t good at anything.”

Peter smiled before scratching the back of his neck. “So... do you always hang out here in your free time?”

You sat back in your chair, this time organizing your desk space again. You placed your current work-in-progress in front of you and set out your paints. Taking a brush from one of those scattered across the table and dipping it in your desired color you laughed. “Not all the time. Why do you ask?”

Peter felt himself stiffen up. He knew why, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. It wasn’t often he met new people and felt comfortable enough around them, but around you, there was a carefree air. Although he had barely learnt anything about you besides your name and your inclination for painting in the wilderness, he wanted to learn more about you.

“Oh... well... you know...” He began. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? Not in the woods I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just- you know-”

At that he heard the strokes of your brush halt on the page as you lifted it and set it down in the glass of water in front of you. You turned back in your chair to look at him, leaning your arm over the back of it. “Like a date?” You asked, cutting him off.

Even though Peter had been through a lot that most teenagers his age had never experienced- that some would even claim required an excessive amount of bravery- he still got flustered when you asked him whether it was a date or not. He thought you were interesting and wanted to get to know you regardless. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in going on a date with you, but he also didn’t want to risk facing rejection and embarrassment.

What do you have to lose? He asked himself.

“I’m sorry if that was forward-” You began as he took a bit longer than you had anticipated for him to answer.

“Yeah. Like a date.” He cut you off. “If you want to anyway... you don’t have to.”

For what felt like the hundredth time since you first met him a few minutes ago, you smiled. “I’d like that.”

And with that you and Peter exchanged numbers before he insisted you go back to painting and that people would begin looking for him soon if he didn’t get back to his run. When his feet hit the road to start running again, he felt a new bolt of energy and pride rush through him as he thought about the cool painter girl’s number he had just gotten in the woods and the date he would share with you that upcoming weekend.

[kiribaku-queen]

The Blood King and his Queen [7]

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Romance, Angst, Drama

Word count: 2.4K

Summary:  From being a mere servant girl to marrying the scariest prince in existence, your world changed right before your eyes. Exchanging places with the princess, you knew, wasn’t going to be easy. But could you have found love on the way? Or was it never meant to be?

A/N: I hope you guys really enjoy this chapter because I think its my favorite chapter so far! FYI, if I don't update this series in a while, it'll be because I am working on an 18+ oneshot for a collab for Bakugou's birthday. So if that does happen, the regular uploads will happen after Bakugou's birthday. And let me tell you, its going to be S P I C Y~

But I can't express how surprised I am by all the love I'm receiving! I really wish I could respond to all your comments, but again, this is my side blog so I can't comment! If ya'll want to follow me on my main... please dont. LOL not to be mean or anything but I don't use my main at all and I don't post ever so there's no point in following me there :)

PLEASE ENJOY AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAG! JOIN THE FAMILY!

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Your heart physically dropped when he said that. You felt sick. Your palms were sweating and shaking. The air around you grew dense and you felt like you couldn’t breath. You couldn’t move for that matter.

Ruin?

What would he do to you if he found out that you weren’t really a princess? That you were a fake lying to him this whole time. It made you sick, just imaging every cruel thing he could do once he found out. But then you remembered, he wasn’t like all the rumors you heard. He was different. He was kind and understanding. He wouldn’t really ruin you if he found out, would he? You shook away the thought. The more you think about it, the more you were likely to get caught.

You were completely exhausted from all that labor you produced in a week’s time. Town after town, you were able to help his people even if it was just a little bit. But it sure depleted a lot of energy out of you. You don’t know if you’ve ever been this drained before in your entire life. It’s not like you had to do hard physical labor back at the palace. This experience was hard on you but also gave you insight on the prince and his kingdom.

Completely drained of your energy, you sat down on one of the tree trunks his soldiers brought for you at the camp not far away from the village you were at. The impoverished village didn’t have enough shelter as is, so you were left with no option but to set up your own shelter. It wasn’t a big deal to you anyway since that’s how you’ve been spending your nights so far.

All the soldiers had gathered around to take a breather for the night and drink away the stress. You weren’t a drinker, but enjoyed the atmosphere the soldiers created: fun and rowdy, like they didn’t give a care in the world. They were dancing on tables, clinking their drinks together, singing songs while hooking their arms around each other’s shoulders.

You laughed at the sight and stretched out your arms. How you wanted to continue the night away but your muscles were soar and aching. A physical exhaustion that you weren’t used to and didn’t want to get used to.

Bakugou was watching his crew from the door, arms crossed and enjoying his crew have fun. He was never the one to be center of attention, so he had his own fun from the back. He saw the way you extended your arms, faced wincing from how sore you were. Cute. It was your last night of volunteer work, why not end the night with something special?

You felt the Blood Prince’s breath sneak up behind your neck, sending chills down your spine.

“Tired?” he asks.

“Maybe just a little,” you admit. You look up at him and he’s giving you those soft yet piercing eyes. He goes to sit next to you and everything is just… peaceful. In that moment you felt content. You felt free. If this was how life was out of the palace, if this was more to life than just serving a spoiled princess, then you didn’t want to leave.

“I am impressed, princess,” Bakugou spoke. “This whole trip, you never, not once sat out. You helped the whole time. Are you sure you’re a princess?” he side eyed you.

“If I am not a princess, then what am I?” you asked back. (y/n), what are you doing? You could expose yourself and everything would be ruined! But for some reason, you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to know his reaction and how he would respond. Maybe you would give up your whole mission for him.

“An innocent and hardworking beauty that is not a princess. She is my future queen who will help me restore this kingdom.” He came closer to you, meaning every single word. Your eyes softened and you got emotional, almost to the point of tears. He’s smiling at you, but suddenly gets up. But gestures for you to take his hand. Of course you did.

“I want to show you something,” he says and leads you away from the crowd of people and into the woods.

You two were walking for a while, your hand in his the whole way. He hadn’t told you where he was leading you to but it had to be something special if he was dragging you to what seemed like all across the country to get to your destination.

“Your highness, are we almost there yet?” you asked, fatigue hitting you once again.

“Almost,” he responds, continuing to look ahead. You huffed and held on tight to his hand so you didn’t get lost or left behind. After a few more minutes of walking, you felt the air get hotter and thinner. Bakugou smiles in front of you, looking excited.

“We’re here,” he announces. He pulls back these huge leaves, revealing a natural hot spring. The water was clear enough that you could see right through it, steam rising from the water, and rocks surrounding it, creating this gorgeous, peaceful atmosphere. Your eyes lit up and a loud gasp escaped your lips.

“How did you find this place?” you asked, getting closer to the hot spring.

“You like it? None of my men know about this place,” he says.

“It’s beautiful!” you continue to gasp, feeling the water with your hands. The heat of the water made you giddy and you couldn’t wait to hop in.

“You deserve it,” Bakugou comes up to, whispering in your ear. His statement made you blush, but this time, you didn’t hide it. He smirks behind you and you heard something falling to the floor. You dare turn around to see Bakugou shirtless, discarding his clothes one by one. As if your face wasn’t hot enough, steam was coming out of your ears with embarrassment.

“What are you doing?” you freaked out, turning around immediately.

“Getting in,” he said in the most obvious tone of voice.

“Together?”

“You’ll be on one side and I’ll be on the other,” he points out a huge rock, separating the hot spring into two pools. That seems a little better, but the idea of soaking in a hot spring together with the prince was nerve wracking.

“Princess, you can enter first, if that makes you feel better,” he suggested. When you turn to look at him, he already had his back turn out of respect for you.

So you undress and enter the heated water, noticing that all your muscles relaxed and the aches started going away as soon as you hit the water. You lean the back of your head on the rock and allow yourself to fully relax and destress. You could hear water splashing from the other side of the rock, indicating that Bakugou had also entered the water. Humming in satisfaction. You grew deeper and deeper in the hot spring until your nose was sitting on top of the water.

“Princess, I realize that I don’t know your name,” Bakugou spoke. Your name? You stayed silent. Was it wise to use your own name or should you continue to play as the princess?

“(y/n).” you decided.

“(y/n),” Bakugou repeated, elongating your name as if he stopped saying it, it’d disappear from him forever. The way your name left his lips felt like butter to him. He couldn’t help himself from repeated your name over and over again in his mind. You giggled and looked over the rock, arms crossed and head resting over them.

“Your highness, allow me to scrub your back,” you offered. Bakugou waved his hand while shaking his head.

“Nonsense. You shall not attend to me. We’re here to relax,” he had to remind you. But you insisted.

“But I want to, Prince Bakugou,” you pouted, jutting out your bottom lip.

“The high and mighty princess wants to wash the blood Prince’s back?” he questions playfully. He glances back to see you resting on top of the rock, giving him your big doe eyes.

“If you insist,” he gave up. He turns his back again, making sure to give you the privacy you needed to be able to come over to his side. You make your way over to him, covering your breasts in case. When you got settled behind him, you started washing his back.

You expected Bakugou to have scars from his many battles he’s had, but you didn’t expect his back to be covered in decolored and deformed wounds. Unknowingly, your hands went up to caress each scar.

“Does that frighten you?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you tell him honestly. “I think it makes you very brave.”

A comfortable silence fell upon you. Only the sound of water running and insects in the background could be heard. That was until you felt poke your butt. The hairs on your body hiked and you screamed as loud as you could, rising from the water in panic.

“Princess!” Bakugou instinctively put protection mode on, shooting up from his place to see what the danger was. You immediately clung to him, Bakugou wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. What Bakugou saw wasn’t an enemy but rather, a wild Japanese macaque monkey poking his head out of the water.

“Shoo!” Bakugou scared the monkey out of the water and back into the forest. Bakugou grunted and relaxed his shoulders. “Damn monkeys. I thought they only came out during the winter season. Are you okay, prin…cess,” he looked down at you only for you to look up at him with your exposed chest fully pressed against his chest. Now this could easily be the most embarrassing moment of your entire life. Your face heated up with embarrassment and you let out another scream, using all your force to slap him across the face. Bakugou wasn’t expecting such a reaction and it caught him off guard. You put for much force into the slap that Bakugou flew back and fell into the water. You ran out of the spring, covering up as fast as you could.

Bakugou had never been so flustered in his life. He was a blushing mess and now the image of your naked breasts on him could not escape his mind. He needed time to calm himself down and a certain friend from getting too excited.

When you both had returned back to the rest of the crew, everybody had been knocked out cold from the alcohol. Thank goodness, because they couldn’t see how awkward you two were at the moment. That night, you slept in the tent again while Bakugou camped outside.

But you couldn’t sleep. How could that situation happen to you, out of all people? You weren’t sure how much he saw of your naked body. Maybe he didn’t see anything at all. But you saw the expression on his face, he definitely saw something. You covered your chest and closed your eyes. To think that a man saw your body and it wasn’t even your wedding night.

You felt the wind enter your tent, the chill making you shiver. If it was cold inside the tent, it must be extra cold outside. Bakugou was sleeping outside. You bit your lip in confliction. You wanted him to be warm but that means you had to confront him. Ah, fuck it. You opened your tent and saw Bakugou resting on the grass with his cape wrapped around him. And it wasn’t doing a very good job because you could see him shivering. He couldn’t hide it no matter how hard he tried.

“Would you like to come inside?” you invite him in.

“It’s for you, princess,” he reminded you.

“I understand. But it’s too cold to be sleeping out here. Please. I insist,” you urged. He opens one eye and sighs.

“As you wish, princess,” Bakugou gave in. You scooted over to make room for the large man to sleep next to you. Bakugou made himself comfy but he was a tad too tall for the tent that he had to have his legs hanging out. The opening of the tent revealed the big, bright moon overhead.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” you apologized. Bakugou just lets out a breath.

“It’s whatever. I didn’t see anything, by the way,” he reassures you. Embarrassed again, you unconsciously covered your chest.

“You sure?”

“Erased from my mind,” he says as he closes his eyes and moves his hands around his head, as if he was erasing his memory. You laugh at his antics, more comfortable with the mood that was created. Bakugou laughs with you and turns to you, meeting eyes. This is the nth time that his heart leapt when you stare at him with those innocent, childlike eyes. He clears his throat and all of a sudden, his ears got red.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” Bakugou professed. You blinked in confusion. You weren’t sure why he said that. Glancing up at the moon, you guess you could say that it was beautiful. It was a full moon, and shone brightly above your heads. You weren’t versed in the poetics so you couldn’t comprehend the message the Blood Prince was trying to get at you.

“The moon is especially beautiful tonight. But isn’t the moon beautiful every night?” you responded.

Bakugou looks are you in mortification. Fuck, did he just get rejected? His ears got hot and he covered his mouth with his hands.

“Yeah… yeah it is,” he agreed, embarrassed. He took a deep breath in and back out again to calm his beating heart. You look over at him to see him a little distressed. You softly smiled, another side you got to see of him. It was cute. You could feel your heartbeat starting to pick its pace up and that’s when you realized. Gathering up all the courage you could muster, you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek you slapped.

“Good night,” you quickly say, then turned over to face away from him. Bakugou stops everything in his tracks and is frozen. He couldn’t help but smile and fall asleep next to you.

The moment you made the decision to kiss him was when you knew that you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to become his queen and rule his kingdom together. You were going to forget your past life. You were going to forget this mission you were on. You were the princess now. That was his truth and you weren’t going to change it.

A/N: For those who don't know, the phrase "the moon is beautiful, isn't it" or 月が綺麗ですね is a more poetic way of saying "I love you" in olden Japanese. And then the response to that would be "I can die happy" or 死んでもいいわ. Just for reference.

As I said before, I absolutely love this chapter and I really really REALLY want to know your reactions and thoughts!

Spoiler: drama starts in the next chapter :)

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know in the comments or DM me! and if you'd like to be tagged when my 18+ oneshot comes out, let me know too! I love you all!

Tagged: @superblyspeedydragon @melasnchz-things @animexholic @bkgwrites @sam-i-am-1025 @apexqueenie @katsukibabe @germfart3 @tspice283 @angie-1306 @bakugous-trauma @bakugousmrs @random-fandom-girl-24 @monetfatalia @triviajeongin @readingslumpfanfic @softredrobin @briefhoundpartynickel @bnhahegao

[matildashoney]

𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 // 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ~ 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ~ 𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀'𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 ~ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @doubtfulwelshie, @meetmymouth, @theluketomypatterson, @morethanamelodyy, @hoodhoran, @nevertoooldtodancelikeamaniac, @rainbowparadiseharry, @glitterandharry, @summertimestyles, @millenial-teenybopper, @6616617228, @burberryharold​, @jesusidontcare1​

.・゜゜・ Harry  .・゜゜・　

Step left. Duck. Step right. Punch.

Step left. Block. Step right. Go for the gold.

The freedom of releasing bottled up anger loomed over Harry’s head, stimulating his need to showcase his overt power. Punch after punch after punch, delivered to his opponent's body and face, fueling the anguish he felt in his veins and the fury in his brain. 

“Okay! Harry, that’s enough!” a voice calls, but, naturally, Harry doesn’t listen. His ears are ringing, deafening anything outside of his own mind. Not that he can hear his own thoughts anyway as he blows hit after hit at Ryan, imagining it’s someone else he’s beating up instead.

His heart is racing as fast as his mind is swirling, his breaths shortening as his arms continue their relentless action on Dear Ryan, who can do nothing but just take it. “Harry!”

Then, there was the numbness. He felt arms tug him back forcefully, landing Harry right on his ass as he came to, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. Harry blinked once, then twice, then three times before taking a look around him. Mack, his trainer, was standing over him, a look of anger mixed with concern etched over his features as he gestured to the man laying flat on his back, spitting blood out of his mouth.

Only for a moment, remorse coursed through Harry’s body, because the last he remembered, they were both standing. It wasn’t the first time he’s lost control of his rage, and he was sorry that Ryan had to deal with the consequences of that, but at the same time, Harry didn’t give a single shit because it was Ryan’s job to play punching bag. 

“Do you wanna explain this?” Mack questions, helping Ryan up so he can go take a breather and get a look at his nose from the doctor. “Fuck, Harry, any more and you could’ve done serious damage to the poor kid.”

Harry hoisted himself up, rolling his eyes as he tugged his gloves off his hands. “Do you want me to win tonight? I sort of need to punch the shit out of people to do that.”

Mack stares at Harry with a cross look before scoffing, shaking his head as he places his hands on his hips, looking down to his feet. “Look, you need to get over her, H. All your focus is on Stella, but I need your focus on your job. That’s the most important thing.”

Technically if he’s focused on Stella, he’s better at his job, but Harry didn’t have the energy to start a fight over something ridiculous. Instead, Harry opted for a poisonous glare and bit his bottom lip to hold back any venom he easily could’ve spit out, walking past his trainer and making sure to bump shoulders along the way.

Mack has always been anti-relationships. 

Mack advised it from the start, when Harry signed up for his gym and kick started his career in boxing. “No dating. It’s not forbidden, but trust me, Harry, you don’t need them on your mind when you’re in the ring.” Harry never had to worry about that before, because dating wasn’t really his thing to begin with.

Until her. Until Stella. 

Harry decided he was done for the day, needing to rest up until his match that night. Not that he’d be resting much anyway, but he needed to get out of the gym for a bit, needed to clear his head.

Grey steel doors to the men’s locker room are no match for Harry’s unhinged anger, banging loudly against the wall behind it as they were forcefully swung open with a push from his hand. The few men in there jumped back a bit, heads immediately turning to the cause of disturbance.

Harry paid them no mind as he walked over to his locker, opening the lock and then swinging that door open too, causing it to bang into the one next to it. Despite the anger he released back in the ring, he still had enough resonating in his veins as he thought of her and as he thought of him. But immediately, as he glanced at the door of his locker, all anger dissipated for a couple fleeting moments as he stared at the filmstrip taped to the metal, the smile on her face, the smile on his face. All was better then. All was better when she was by his side. 

His Stella. Stella for star.

Sitting down on the bench behind him, Harry ran his battered hands over his face and then through his hair as he tried to stop thinking of her. But then the image of her smile taunted him, enticed him, tricked him into giving her another moment of his time. The pain in his chest and the pain in his head grew stronger as his thoughts spiraled, bringing up memories he tried so hard to push to the back of his head. 

Even when he was in the ring, thinking of his match later on, Harry couldn’t stop from thinking about her. He couldn’t stop his heart from sinking into his stomach at the thought of her face not being in the crowd cheering him on. He couldn’t bear it, knowing his Lucky Star wasn’t going to be there for him. 

That’s when all shades of red began swarming his sight, because she wouldn’t be front row, but instead with that fucking character she calls a duet partner. Then Ryan’s face morphed into his. Harry couldn’t stop himself. 

Shit, how he wished he could get his hands on that jackass. 

Harry nearly broke the wood holding him up from how tight his grip was on it, but, then one glance at her and his strength fell apart. 

And so did Harry’s mind.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at her picture on his locker door, but when he finally gained back his grip on reality, he grabbed his gym bag and closed the metal, hurrying out of the stuffy room to get home. He ignored Mack’s lingering gaze, keeping his own eyes straight ahead as he stormed out of the building. 

Just when Harry thought he could catch a breath, a break, the warm weather outside touched his skin, nearly melting him to the ground.

Harry hated the heat. He much preferred the winter time because it always leveled his hot head, and the sweltering air mixed with his boiling rage never mixed well. Now, Harry was in an even sourer mood. Though, it slightly picked up when he realized the time on his phone.

Crossing the street, Harry began his walk in the opposite direction of home, quickening his pace so as to not miss her. He absolutely dreaded not taking his car to the gym that day. He dreaded it not only for the sweat dripping down his body, but because he had to pass a certain establishment on the shortest route to the studio.

Lucky’s Bar.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry had a bit of a habit of stopping time whenever he walked into a room. Or at least it felt like he did because despite the loud, rowdy music blaring through the tight bar, and everyone being focused on themselves and who they were with, all heads immediately turned to him when he stepped through the entrance of Lucky’s. 

“That never gets old,” Niall nudged Harry in the side, chuckling as people began to whisper to one another, sly-but-not-so-sly fingers pointing in their direction.

It wasn’t always this way. They really only started looking at him after news spread rapidly around campus about his new ... job. Otherwise, no one ever paid enough attention to notice he was in the same room. At first it was strange knowing people were watching his every move, but after a while, he stopped caring. 

One thing he learned over the past few months, is that not caring goes a long way.

Harry sat on the bar stool next to Niall, a bored look on his face as the bartender looked a bit starstruck because of who was sitting in front of her. “Two beers please. Bottled,” Niall requested, turning his attention back to his friend. “So, when’s your next match?” he wondered, mindlessly checking his phone as he waited for his girlfriend to text him of her arrival.

Harry thought about it for a second, not even remembering what day of the week it was. “Next Friday, I think. I don’t know, I’ll text you,” Harry shrugged, graciously taking the drink the bartender sat next to him, nodding his head in appreciation before taking his first swig.

They sat idly for some time, not wanting to join the masses standing on the dance floor. They could practically feel the humidity and sweat from the bar. Many girls tried coming over and flirting their ways into getting free drinks, but neither of the boys even blinked in their direction as they laughed over mindless nonsense and awaited Niall’s girlfriend’s arrival. 

And Niall’s girlfriend’s friend’s arrival.

A friend that was apparently a very good, a great match for Harry. Usually, Harry denied any setups Niall tried to throw his way, but this time the bloke wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently, Niall had a big feeling this one was going to be someone incredibly special.

Then that familiar text tone sounded, alerting them the girls had arrived, but they didn’t need the text to know that. Because - at least to Harry and Niall - time had stopped once again, but not because of Harry, but because of Libby and her friend.

Not that anyone else cared, but the two girls lit up the entire place. Their energy radiated a glow that was unmatched to anyone else in the room, leaving Niall and Harry in awe. Of course, they turned the heads of jerk offs that whistled when they walked by, but their eyes were set on the boys waiting for them.

“Hi, baby,” Libby greeted, quickly kissing Niall on the lips before giving Harry a soft smile and kissing him on the cheek.

The other girl greeted Niall just as happily - minus the kiss on the lips, opting for a hug instead. Her curly hair sat behind her in a low ponytail, a few front strands hanging loosely over her face. 

Then, her eyes met Harry’s.

Ever since she walked into Lucky’s, Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her, and now that she was up close and personal, he took the time to really admire her features, her figure, her long legs that seemed to go on for miles.

Before she could introduce herself, Niall clapped Harry on the shoulder, waving his other hand between the two, “Harry, meet Stella.”

Much to his surprise, Stella leaned in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a warm greeting that he never usually received when meeting a girl. Usually, Harry was met with a bat of fake eyelashes and fingers tracing his biceps. 

She stepped back after a few moments, a kind smile stretched over her lips. “You must be the boxer.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry stands in front of the bar for a moment, thinking back to all the times he sat on the wooden stools with his girl and their friends and drank to celebrate the winning of another match. Of course, yeah, he’s been back since then, and he’s been back with his friends since then, but it’s not the same without his hand intertwined with hers and the feeling that he had when walking in with her tucked under his arm. Harry used to soak in the stares and the jealous whispers of other men and women when they walked in together, to know that he was the luckiest man alive, in those moments. His Stella, his Lucky Star, at his side, and yet he was the lucky one. 

Harry knew Stella liked the attention a little bit, too, as much as she hated to admit it. Stella liked knowing that her man was the champion, the star, the winner. Stella liked seeing Harry win. That’s why she was at every match, every single one. 

That feels like a lifetime ago, and it was barely a year ago. One year ago, when Harry royally fucked himself over with her and his world flipped upside down.

.・゜゜・ Stella  .・゜゜・

Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso.

That’s what Stella Smalls is going to do over and over until she can get it perfect. Until there’s not a hiccup or a side step or a misplaced toe or fingertip in sight, completing the perfect combination from her fingertips to her toes. That’s what Stella has to do, to be known as one of the best dancers in the world.

“God damnit,” she grumbles, wiping the sweat on her forehead on her hand and brushing her bangs away from her skin, heaving out a heavy breath and leaning over her knees, taking a minute to catch her breath. Her legs ache with how much she’s been practicing, and she’s happy to have the night off. 

“Come on, Stella,” she says to herself, psyching herself into repeating the combination a few times more. “Come on. This isn’t child’s play. This is the biggest competition you’ll ever do.”

Her words seemingly do the trick, the ache in her thighs and feet suddenly disappearing and fading into the background of her mind, her only focus going to the specific point in this song where this combination would play out to the perfect rhythm if she does it correctly. Her favorite song is playing over the speakers, the building bridge and chorus resounding through the mirror-lined studio, waiting for her to try and try again. Her song choice is making it all the more difficult to focus, especially with knowing who is across the street, and how much this song is about him, as well. 

It wasn’t their song, for the short two years they were together, that was something else, something a bit too hard to touch. Their song, “Undeniable You”, the song they danced to at two in the morning in her tiny kitchen and the song they played in the car on their way to the gym and the studio and the song they played when they were making love into the early hours of the night. That was their song and it was untouchable, their song that she truly couldn't use as her competition piece for the World Title.

Stella hadn’t originally wanted to do the song that she’s currently dancing to. That wasn’t her intention, especially not fresh after their parting ways and it was raw, so raw. However, when her instructor heard the song and was approving the World Title submission under her studio’s name, she suggested that she channel her emotions that she was feeling towards the song into choreography. Stella was competing for a world title under her studio’s name. Could she really say no? 

Nearly a year later, with the competition only three months away, River Daniels and Stella Smalls are practicing their duet for the world title to a song that she once associated with a man she was in love with, is in love with.

“Love,” Angie calls through the studio, walking into the quaint room with light bamboo flooring and three long barres hooked onto the walls amongst the mirrors, staring at the young girl with concern etched into her features, “maybe you should take a break. You’ve been here since eight, this morning.”

“What time is it, now? Have somewhere to be around three.” Stella wonders curiously, oblivious to how long she’s been at the studio and been working. Muscles ache inside her body, her feet crying out for a breather, and yet she keeps pushing, keeps forcing herself to repeat the combination until she finds it perfectly aligned with the rhythm of the song.

“It’s nearly two, Stella,” Angie says assuredly, sounding nearly disappointed in the way Stella has been pushing herself since she found out who her competition was for the title, and the stakes that are at large, waiting for her.

Should they win, Stella and River will go on a world tour with nearly a dozen other dancers, doing master classes and teaching young dancers the way to the title, and the money that would be split between the two of them would allow for her to finally open her own studio in town.

There’s this empty building that she has been eyeing for nearly five years, dreaming that one day it would be the studio of her dreams. There is space for three different rooms, three studios within one, and there are a multitude of opportunities waiting for her in this space if she just had the money. “The Lucky Star Academy”, she would name it, after the one that always told her that she would be the best studio owner in town. He wasn’t that clever for giving her the name.

Stella’s name does mean “star”, after all. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry’s knuckles were all bloodied and cut, the skin tearing and ripping at the base of his hand after rubbing against his gloves after he stupidly forgot to wrap his hands before the match. Typically, Stella reminds him, but today, she was in her head, worrying about the bank’s call and the meeting she had with the loan advisor and the conversation she had with her mother regarding how much she would offer as a loan until her business started and took off like everyone knew - or had a feeling - it would, and Harry was worried about comforting his girlfriend, to the point where they had to call him out of the locker room to make sure he was ready for the match. Stella was worried that he would lose the match because of how much worrying he was doing for her, but of course, Harry being Harry, won within the first ten minutes in the ring.

“Stell, the bank is going to approve you,” Harry said too surely for Stella’s liking when they were back in the locker room, cleaning his knuckles. “If not, like I said, I could give you the money. It’s not a big deal.” Stella glares at Harry for that secondary comment. “Okay, it’s a big deal, but I can loan you the money, Lovey. I’m not hoarding all this to myself. Makes sense to share it with the ones I love, does it not?”

“It does, but I don’t want to start my business by owing you money, Harry,” Stella says frustratedly, wiping the blood from his hands and kissing the skin of his knuckles sweetly. Stella was always the most gentle soul with Harry, even when he didn’t necessarily deserve it, and he cherished the way she loves him, the way she cares. “My studio can’t start that way. It’s just, I can’t.”

“Name it after what I call you, at least. Let me contribute the name, Stella Bella.” Harry grins so widely Stella can feel her heart giving out and falling into his hands, like it always does. “My Lucky Star. Maybe you’ll be somebody else’s, too. Mine first, always, though.”

“First and foremost,” she says, shaking her head at the nickname, one of many of what her boyfriend has called her over the years, and sighs deeply, laying the flannel on the sink beside her and letting his hands fall to her waist, holding her between his legs and kissing her shoulder, “you’ll always have me as your lucky star, the one and only.” Harry’s dimpled grin makes her stomach flutter with butterflies. “Secondly, ‘The Lucky Star Academy’, I like the sound of that.” Harry smiles wider, this time, leaning upwards and kissing her jaw. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Very nice ring to it,” Harry agrees, brushing her hair behind her ear and holding her chin between his fingertips, kissing her sweetly, deeply, smirking when she pushes his shoulder lightly and takes a step away. “Come on, lovey. One more kiss before you leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she says matter-of-factly, shaking her head and nodding towards where the door is swinging open with men walking in and out. “I’m leaving the room for you to get changed, you stink.”

“Come shower with me,” he whispers, standing on his feet and bringing her into his chest, the clamminess of his skin sticking to her fingertips as she lays her hands against his abdomen. “Not like any of these blokes actually shower here, anyways.”

“Girl in a locker room disappears into the showers and Harry Styles is nowhere to be seen,” Stella scoffs, shaking her head adamantly and brushing his hair away from his forehead, the floppy tendrils of his hair falling to his sweaty skin. “Very likely that everyone will know what’s happening.”

“Stella Smalls,” Harry says warningly, clicking his tongue and grabbing her face between his hands, “don’t ever call yourself just a girl, ever again. Hear me? Much more than a girl to me.”

“All right, all right,” she concedes, pecking his lips quickly and walking towards the locker, grabbing all his belongings and shoving the clothes that need to be washed in the tote bag he brings to every match. “Go shower, I’m tired and want to go home.”

“I’ll shower faster if my Lucky Star comes with me,” Harry teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and walking towards the showers in the corner of the locker room. “Come on, Stell. One time.” Stella sighs, looking between the phone, where she is impatiently waiting for a phone call, her belongings, and her sweaty boyfriend standing all too enticingly at the edge of the tile flooring. Stella begrudgingly sets their things in the locker, oblivious to the buzzing that’s vibrating from her phone, and hurries to Harry across the locker room floor, smirking as he says, “That’s my girl. My Stella.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Knocking on the studio door pulls Stella out of her trance, again, the song playing over and over again in her head with tears in her eyes as she forces a smile to the familiar man in the window. River is standing at the glass window, watching his partner perfect the leap combination for their routine without saying a word. Her knees are bruised and tainted a purplish-blue color that looks like it hurts like hell, and River silently reminds himself to schedule a day to practice even more to be on her level of dedication. River smiles at Stella softly, opening his arms and bringing her in close, hugging her tightly and humming contently as her arms tighten around his midsection and return the embrace.

“Looks great, Stella,” River smiles excitedly, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead and taking a step away, looking at her face and taking in the distracted glances she’s making towards the window to the outside. “Harry’s coming, isn’t he? Walks you home from the gym and all that.”

“Always on Saturdays,” Stella says shyly, almost slightly embarrassed by how much she looks forward to the weekly walk with her best friend, which happens to also be her ex-boyfriend, the person she’s choreographing this routine about. “It’s our only time to really talk, you know? Alone, at least. He’s so busy during the week, I’m busy teaching. It’s not going to distract me, River, I promise.”

“You say that, Stella,” he says concernedly, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, shrugging his shoulders slightly at the thought of the two getting back together when he’s started to develop feelings for her beyond their partnership and friendship. “There’s already chemistry there, though. That’s hard to deny when you see the way he looks at you, the way he looks at me when I’m with you. Like he wants me removed from the planet or something.”

Stella knows that Harry wants River removed from her life, completely. He doesn’t need to say anything for that to be abundantly clear. That doesn’t mean she’ll say that, though. “Oh, c’mon, Riv, it’s not that bad. He’s not that cruel.”

“If Harry knew that I liked you in any capacity, which is not me saying that I do,” River says with his hands held in the air in surrender, “I would be pummeled into bits. You know it as well as I do, Stella.” River says this surely, quirking his eyebrows at his friend and cocking his head to the side knowingly, shrugging his shoulders when she crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively and sighs. “Not your fault he’s protective of you, Stella. It’s not your fault he’s in love with you.”

“Harry isn’t in love with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” River shrugs his shoulders, “Hell, what do I know, though?” He takes Stella’s hand and twirls her beneath his arm, smiling brightly when she laughs and falls into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Practice tomorrow?”

“Of course, yeah,” she says with a bright smile, leaning onto her toes and kissing his cheek, her eyes rolling slightly when she sees her ex-boyfriend nearly foaming at the mouth outside the studio at the sight. Harry tries to hide it, Stella knows this, and that’s why she never says anything when she sees his facial expressions change or the way his hands clenched into fists when he sees River with his hand on Stella’s back as they leave the studio. “Come to the fight, tonight. It’ll be fun to have everyone there. This is his last match before the International Rounds.” River nods silently and opens the door for Stella to walk through, Harry immediately grabs her hand and pulls her into a warm hug. “Hi, Harry.”

.・゜゜・Harry  .・゜゜・

With old memories rehashing in his mind - which brought him the most happiness he’s felt in a while - Harry for fucking sure wasn’t expecting to see that slime-ball hugging his girl, replacing those memories with the anger he thought he suppressed, for now, at least.

Harry knew his face contorted into a deep scowl, burning red as he saw the interaction happening before him, and he couldn’t help his knuckles turning white from his fists clenching insanely tight. He knew how furious he looked. Hell, he knew how crazy he looked, but that didn’t stop him from tugging her away from her partner the moment they walked outside. 

Harry wraps his arms around Stella’s shoulders, pulling her close to him, but keeping his eyes on River. “Hi, Harry,” she murmured into his chest, before she pulled herself away and looked up at him. For the first time in those fifteen seconds, he diverted his attention away from him and looked at his girl, a smirk lining his features. 

“Hello, lovey.” And, spitefully - arguably, without a single care - he leans down and places his own kiss to her opposite cheek. As soon as Harry stood back up to his full height, he could see in Stella’s eyes that she was pleading for him to not cause a scene. He decided to respect her wishes, this time, but that didn’t stop the threatening glare he sent River’s way. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Think I can take a nap there?”

Stella looked over her shoulder at her dance partner, giving him an apologetic look. She knew he wasn’t nearly as scared of Harry, as Harry would like to think, but that didn’t stop her from being worried. River waved her off unapologetically, saying, “I’ll see you, tonight.”

Harry’s head quickly snapped to look at Stella, eyes widening and mouth falling agape from his words. He, too, looked over his shoulder, then, just to see the man getting in his car and then speeding off down the road. Harry was confused. He was baffled. And of course, he was angry. 

What does that mean?

As far as Harry knows, they see each other for practice during the week, for tech rehearsals, and for the performances, but never for anything else. Stella and River were only dance partners, not friends. That’s right, isn’t it? 

That’s when his greatest fear started coming to life. The realization hit. Harry could lose Stella, for good.

Harry stopped in his tracks, no matter how badly he wanted to get out from under the blazing sun. Stella stopped, too, confused as to why he was just standing there. “What’s wrong?”

The real question was: What isn’t wrong?

“What did he mean by that?” Harry hissed, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down harshly on it, but surprisingly, not drawing any blood. Harry knows that they aren’t officially together, and no matter how much, how badly that eats him alive, he knows that she has free reign to be with whoever she wants. Stella’s his Lucky Star, though, and, truth be told, he doesn’t think he can ever be without her in some capacity, for as long as he’s still breathing, as long as he’s on this planet. And, truthfully, it pains him to think that she would want to be with anyone that isn’t him. 

Sometimes, Harry wonders if she feels the same way.

“By what?” she asked by raising her eyebrows, confused as to what he was talking about. Then, seeing Harry biting on his lip with an excruciating grip, seeing the anger bubble back inside of him, Stella put two and two together, and figured out that he was talking about what her partner had said. “Oh, seeing me tonight? Oh my God, Harry.” Stella started laughing at this, beginning her walk, again, to her apartment. 

Harry was stunned for a quick moment before he followed after her, falling into step with her. He kept his eyes locked on her, watching her shake her head and and keep her eyes trained on her squeaky clean, white shoes. “What?”

“He’s coming to the fight.”

Harry was tempted to stop walking, again, but knew she wouldn’t stop this time, and would probably leave him behind. “No, he isn’t,” Harry responded, completely dumbfounded to the idea of Stella bringing up his fight, and then going the extra mile to invite her dance partner to it. He didn’t understand why she would even think of doing that, because she knows he doesn’t like him. It’s almost as if she enjoys making Harry angry - which could be the only possible explanation for why she invited him.

Stella looked up at him, tilting her head to the side, “Excuse me?”

“He’s not coming to my fight,” Harry scoffed, pressing the button on the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to keep walking.

“Are you being serious right now?” she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, turning to face him completely as they stood on the corner. Deep down, Stella knew Harry was being serious, but didn’t quite want to believe it. Harry’s always had this possessive hold on her, ever since they started dating. Honestly, when they were together, it was cute, it was funny, even, it stemmed from the love he had for her. Now, though, it’s infuriating, it’s toxic, and it’s painful. 

It’s also kind of sad.

After Stella, Harry closed himself off to the world again. He sticks to his same few friends. He doesn’t date. He continues to revolve his world around Stella. Constantly. Stella’s trying to grow, and move on, but he makes it impossible for her, because, truthfully, Harry has no one else. It’s sad, but it’s also insanely frustrating. “First of all, it’s a public event, so technically, River’s more than welcome to be there. Secondly, I’m not your girlfriend, H. I haven’t been your girlfriend for over a year. And Harry, you need to get that through your head, because I’m tired of telling you.”

Clicking of the cross-walk sign began, signaling it was time to start walking, again, which Stella happily did as Harry once again found himself stuck in place. This wasn’t how he imagined his day to go, and he certainly didn’t want to keep talking on the topic, but he couldn’t stop himself. It’s like a vicious cycle of trying to prove that she still wants him in some capacity, that she would choose him over someone else, even though she’s proven time and time again that she doesn’t, that she wouldn’t. Stella is over Harry, and Harry refuses to accept that.

Harry allowed a few moments of silence between them, a comfortable silence as they walked on towards her apartment, letting her think she had gotten the better end of the argument. Then, Harry continued. “Has he got a ticket?”

Stella sighed, “What?”

“For the fight. Did he buy a ticket? Or are you gonna use my name to get him in?” Harry’s association is the way she and any of his friends ever get in without paying. Tickets always sell insanely fast, near instantaneously, so Harry doubts River actually has one to get in. He knows Stella is going to get him in, and Harry’s lucky to have the upper-hand in the situation, because he can easily make it where there’s a specific guest-list - one that doesn’t have him on it. “I’ll tell the guard to blacklist him, Stell. He’s not coming.”

Stella rolled her lips into her mouth, fighting off the urge to spit venom that could put a wrench into whatever this relationship of theirs was. She didn’t want to continue moving backwards, but Harry made it really, very difficult to push forward. Stella shrugged, keeping her eyes ahead of her, “Fine, then neither am I.”

Stella only ever went to his fights because Harry asked her to, not because she had any actual desire to be there. Having to watch her once-boyfriend get punched in the face was never a sight she could fully stomach, and if his unwillingness to see her friend was this strong, then it only gave her motive not to go. 

Harry opened the door to her apartment building once she put the code in, allowing her to enter first. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care if she doesn’t want him to follow, because he does anyway. The idea of Stella not being there for his fight deepens the pit in the bottom of his stomach, and thickens his fear of losing her. 

It’s like this: when Stella is there, Harry knows he’s gonna win, when Stella’s not there, that familiar feeling isn’t in Harry’s gut, and all he feels is uncertainty. Harry can feel the victory gliding through his veins when he steps into the ring, seeing her front row, clapping and whistling and rooting for him.  Calling her his Lucky Star started off as an inside joke, simply because of the meaning of her name and where they first met. After she started coming to his fights, though, Lucky Star became quite literal, and he can’t go without her. 

“Of course you are. I need you there.”

And when they finally got to her front door, Stella inserted her key and unlocked it, but didn’t enter right away, confusing Harry. Stella stood there, facing him, his hand on the door nearly blockading her against the small wooden door, a small smile on her lips. “Okay. Then, River comes. He goes, I go.”

Harry and Stella held a staring contest for what felt like minutes, neither of them willing to back down - both, with the eye contact and the argument that hangs over them like a dark, miserable cloud. Finally, Harry sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head so his chin hit against his chest. He was in no position to keep fighting her, especially if continuing meant jeopardizing her attendance, tonight, in particular.

His favorite smile, a full smile broke out onto Stella’s face, and she couldn’t help reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. Twisting the golden doorknob, she allowed them both into her home. “Did you still wanna take that nap?”

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping inside and shrugging off his tee shirt before the door could even fully shut. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Fifteen minutes until showtime. Fifteen minutes and Stella still wasn’t there.

Harry left her with plenty of time to get ready and to get her friend to come with her. He left her apartment nearly thirty minutes before they had to be at the gym, giving her enough time to get dressed - she was never one for makeup, if she wasn’t on stage - and make her way to the gym long before the match would start. Stella should be here, by now. She’s always early.

Harry was nervous, but not because of his fight - because there was no sign of Stella. Mack has tried to get his mind off of her, but he was basically talking to a wall as Harry kept pacing around the  locker room, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“She’ll be here, H,” Libby tried reassuring him again, but like Mack, she was ignored. After Harry left Stella’s apartment around four, that was the last time he saw or heard from her. Usually, she would send him a text that she’s on her way, but he’s received nothing. The only reason Harry could think of why this is happening, is because of that prick of a dance partner. Harry always drove Stella himself, before their separation, and afterwards, she always sent a text when she was coming. 

Now, the one time River decides to tag-along, there’s no word from her. If Harry didn’t hate him already, he certainly does now.

Niall offered Harry a beer, which he greatly accepted, gulping it down in seconds before crushing the metal of the can in his palm. Then, the locker room door swung open, and a frenzied Stella walked in with a sheepish look on her face.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, there was a crowd outside that was impossible to get through,” Stella rushed out, coming straight over to Harry and engulfing him in a hug, knowing he must’ve been worried, ignoring the concerned looks on their friends’ and her friend’s faces. Stella was cutting it close to when Harry had to get out there, and she just blamed it entirely on the traffic and drunk crowd of old men, and she knew that wasn’t going to stick with Harry.

“Great! Stella’s here, now. Can you fucking sit down?” Mack hissed, rubbing his temples as he could feel his headache fading away. Stella shyly pulled away from Harry, ignoring Mack’s hardened stare, and made her way over to her friends, greeting them in her usual manner before snagging her own beer from the cooler; and when she pulled out another, that’s when Harry realized the leech that was in the room, too.

Taking a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, Harry did all he could to ignore River’s existence. He had to remain civil for Stella’s sake. That was the condition of her being there, after all.

“Stell, you didn’t text me,” Harry spoke up, gaining back her attention. 

Stella looked at him with a furrow in her brow before patting her jean pockets and then reaching into her small purse hanging off her arm. “Shit, I forgot my phone back at my place. I’m sorry,” she apologized, only then realizing that she completely forgot her phone and, therefore, forgot to text Harry and confirm her appearance, like she usually did. Stella stepped closer to Harry, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. “I told you I was gonna be here, though.”

Harry looked down at his shoes, biting his lip, biting back his words. Harry wanted to tell Stella he was nervous that she wasn’t gonna show, wanted to tell her that he was worried, wanted to tell her so much. Instead, Harry reached over to the bench where his duffle bag was, pulling out his gloves and offering them to her. “Can you put my gloves on for me?”

It was a bit of a tradition for Stella to put Harry’s gloves on his hands. As if her being there wasn’t enough luck, this action was also a tiny good luck token that Harry always needed before he went out. Stella hesitated for a brief second, not knowing if this was actually a good thing. There was essentially no harm in it, but knowing his reasoning - that it was for good luck, she is his good luck - kind of felt like a punch to her gut. Of course, though, she reached for them anyway, slipping one and then the other on his fists before tightening the straps and knocking the fists together. 

“Good luck, H,” she murmured, giving his right and left fist a little kiss, before dropping his hands all together. 

The little kiss sent a shock through Harry’s spine, because that was something she never did before. A wide smirk formed on his lips, his nerves completely vanishing as confidence swarmed his veins. He stood back up to his full height, saying, “Don’t need it now that you’re here,” just loud enough for her friend to hear on the other side of the room.

“Alright, let’s go!” Mack shouts from the locker room door, holding out Harry’s robe and guard for his mouth.

Harry’s black robe was slipped over his frame as they all walked out of the locker room and into the hall. The bass-driven music was pounding throughout the venue, eliciting a roar from the crowd, because the fun was about to begin. The announcer could be heard, hyping up the audience as he waited for the cue that opponents arrived to their positions. 

Niall, Libby, Stella, and River separated from Harry and Mack, making their way towards their reserved seats in the front row. Harry was barely paying attention to whatever Mack was telling him, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and cracking his neck as they waited.

Then his name was called. And everything became a blur.

The crowd erupted, he walked to the ring, Mack put his mouth guard in for him, and then the familiar bell of the match sounded. His opponent was no bigger than he was, which was good for him because it called for an easy win. The guy managed to get a few good moves in, delivering a hard right hook straight to Harry’s jaw. All he could see was black for a couple of seconds, but once he regained his composure, the first thing he saw was River’s arm wrapped around Stella’s shoulder.

She was motionless as she watched Harry, hands clasped together and under her chin as she hoped for him to win. It was like she didn’t even notice his arm was on her, and Harry can’t decide if that makes it worse.

The anger from earlier today at the gym, and from picking Stella up, and from Stella being late boiled back inside of him. The look on his face was a deadly one as he spat on the ring floor, raising his fists back in the air, ready to strike. His opponent looked terrified for a quick second, but he too raised his fists, nowhere near ready to give up.

Harry won.

Scary part is, he doesn’t even remember it. 

One moment he’s standing there, the next his arm is being raised in victory as the referee declares him winner. His breathing is heavy, his heart is beating rapidly, and his body is drenched in sweat. He feels hot and disgusting, so he walks over to Mack in the corner, who’s waiting with a towel for Harry to spit his mouthguard on to.

He receives compliments left and right as he makes his way backstage, but he practically ignores them all as he searches for the only one that matters. Her face pops up within seconds out of the crowd, and then she’s making her way towards Harry, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, not caring about the sweat and the stickiness of his skin. “Knew you’d win.”

“I always do when you’re here,” he hums, pecking her cheek and shrugging his shoulders, leaving one arm slung around her, raising his eyebrows in a cocky manner, basically saying I never lose. Stella hums in response, shaking her head at the cockiness, before needing to find the nearest bathroom, stating she’ll be back in a few minutes. 

Niall and Libby didn’t stay for long after the fight, so all that was left was Harry and River. Alone. Alone, while Stella was in the bathroom. Harry tried really hard to ignore him, but being alone fueled the fire in his mind, and couldn’t help himself. “What do y’think you’re doing?”

River was surprised at this, because as far as he knew, he wasn’t doing anything. “Excuse me?”

Harry scoffed, unraveling the tape on his hands, clenching his jaw as he looked up. “Never seen you two so … close, before.”

River shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders. If he was supposed to feel intimidated by Harry, he wasn’t. Who Stella decided to be around was her own decision, and it wasn’t any of Harry’s business what their personal relationship was. Not that it was anything more than friends, Harry didn’t need to know that. “Well, someone has to be there for her. Y’know, after all the pain you caused.”

After all the pain you caused. Harry swallowed at the thought. Their breakup weighs heavy on him, and not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about the pain he caused, the pain that ensued afterwards. He knows he hurt her badly, and he’s not so sure anything could ever make up for what he did, but knowing that others know he hurt her made him feel uneasy. The worst part of it all? Knowing that he wasn’t the one she cried to, confided in, needed support from. 

River was, any of her friends were, but not Harry.

He gripped the bench he was on, mulling over the idea of Stella seeking River out to talk about her relationship problems, and praying Stella would come back quickly before he does something he regrets. Before he could say anything back, River made the decision to keep egging him on, leaning his back against the wall by the door. “Harry, you gotta let her go, mate. I think we both know this will always end badly between the both of you. ”

Harry stood up from his seat, stalking across the room, ending up right in front of River, barely a foot of space between them. Harry doesn’t like the way he says his name, venom and distaste found in every syllable, almost as though she could never see it. “You don’t know shit about Stella and I.”

“Don’t I? I know a lot more than you think, Harry Styles. If you love Stella, you’d stay away from her,” he spat back, narrowing his eyes into slits, taking his hands out of the pockets of his jeans. 

Harry wishes it was that easy. If Harry could physically stay away, he would. She doesn’t deserve the trouble he brings and he most certainly doesn’t deserve her. Love isn’t that easy, though. It can’t be that easy. Stella’s his girl. There’s no one else for him. He can’t let her go.

“You’re bad for her. Can’t you see that?”

And just like that, Harry’s fist came in contact with River’s cheek. The dancer’s body was thrown off his arrogant balance, nearly toppling over onto the floor from the brute impact. Harry gripped the back of his shirt, throwing his back against the wall he was just perched on, taking hold of his jaw so he had nowhere else to look but at him. Harry tilted his head to the side a bit, leaning in just a bit closer so his hushed words could be heard, just between them two.

“You’re gonna go. Stella is my girl, and I won’t go down without a fight - which we both know you’ll lose. So you’re gonna leave her alone, got it?” Harry hissed, tightening his hold on River’s jaw, which any tighter, he could probably break.

River wasn’t happy, that much was evident, but he knew when to give up. Harry was a force he had no time or effort to reckon with, so unwillingly, he nodded his head. His face was dropped, and Harry stepped back, clapping him on the shoulder with a condescending smile as he pointed towards the door to the locker room. Holding his tender face, River gave Harry one last middle finger before walking out.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, knocking his head back so he was facing the ceiling. The deep pit that had been nestled into his gut all day finally vanished, and he finally felt at peace. He could finally get the idea of Stella with anyone else out of his head and maybe, just maybe, get their relationship back on track to what it used to be. For that to happen, though, Harry needed Stella to fully trust him again, and he was still struggling with how to gain her forgiveness. Because anyone that knew Stella knew that she could hold a grudge.

He didn’t get much time to think about it though, because after a million years, Stella finally came back from the bathroom. “I swear, I just don’t think today’s my day. I went into one stall and it didn’t have toilet paper, and the next one didn’t either, and ... Hey, where’s River?” she suddenly wondered, stopping mid-ramble to look around the room, seeing it was just Harry in there.

“Said summat about not feeling good, left a couple minutes ago. I’ll drive you home,” Harry disclosed, tugging his clean clothes out of his bag so he could go take a shower quick before they left.

“Oh, that’s odd. He seemed fine before. I hope he’s better for rehearsals tomorrow,” she spoke worriedly, making a mental note to text him when she gets home. They only had three months until the competition, and they haven’t really performed the dance together yet. They’re already on a time crunch, so him being sick really didn’t help their case.

The whole time they were alone together after Harry’s shower, not a single word was exchanged between them. It wasn’t a necessarily awkward tension between them, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either. The journey across the parking lot to Harry’s car was silent, and then the car ride was only filled with the quiet lull of the music on the radio.

When they arrived outside her building, Harry put the car in park, but Stella didn’t jump to get out just yet. She played with the ring on her finger - that actually used to be Harry’s, gnawing at her bottom lip gently. She was pulled out of her thoughts when Harry placed his hand on her thigh and smiled slightly, and Stella knows exactly what Harry’s going to say. It’s the same every week, every match.

“Thank you for coming.” 

Stella glanced up at him, pulling a small smile across her lips, slowly nodding her head. For some reason, she could feel tears and anguish building up inside of her, causing her to look away quickly as she reached for her purse on the floor between her feet. She placed her hand on the door handle, ready to pull on it before turning back around to face him for one last time in the night. “Congratulations, H. I’ll see you soon.”

Then she was gone, and that unmistakable pit in Harry’s stomach resurfaced. 

.・゜゜・ Stella  .・゜゜・

Stella can see her anger. That’s all she can see at this moment. Bright red. Burning anger. Fueling rage. Usually, Stella knows how to channel her anger, to calm herself and bring herself back to Earth and level herself out without making a scene. However, right now, Stella absolutely cannot. All of her rage is targeted at one person, one person that she swore she’d never take the time to be this angry at ever again. 

Harry.

Stella hasn’t been this angry since she and Harry broke up over a year ago, since the moment she stepped on the stage and realized that the one person that she wanted to be there wasn’t there at all. Stella hasn’t been this angry since Harry blamed it on oversleeping and forgetting, since he lied to her face and tried to win her back with broken promises and empty words. Stella hasn’t been this angry ever in her life, and it’s beginning to make her skin hot and her face sweat with the rush of it all. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

“What do you mean you’re through?” Harry asks angrily as he begins pacing around the bedroom that he and Stella practically share at his apartment. Stella’s old place was nearly empty by the time they were dating for six months and she was about to sign the final paperwork to end her lease and move in permanently with him. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Stella says harshly, shaking her head and sucking back tears that are threatening to fall. Stella can’t cry. Not right now. Harry can’t see how broken she is over this, over everything.

“Is this because I missed the performance? Is that what all this is about?”

Stella sets her clothes in the suitcase and looks at Harry with tears in her eyes, biting back a laugh and sucking in a deep breath, one singular tear falling down her cheek as she stares at him. Harry looks broken, as if someone’s dug a knife into his chest and twisted at the seams. In a way, Stella is glad he feels this way, this hurt, this pained, because maybe, just maybe, Harry would understand how she felt to win and be completely alone, without the one person that she wanted there.

Stella’s mind goes back to the memory of the competition, of how she felt. 

Stella stepped onto the stage with nothing but joy and pride in her eyes. Stella’s first national title was about to be won as long as she scores high enough, and that would mean she would be one step closer to earning the money to open her own studio. Her mother, Luna, is in the audience, Harry’s mother and sister, all of their friends are there ready to cheer her on. Harry should be there, his flight landed nearly an hour ago, and he said he was going to come right there to watch her. Harry promised that much.

Stella performed her very best, danced the best she’s ever done, earned a standing ovation from the audience and the judges and a perfect score on her sheets. Angie hugged her tightly as she came off the stage, River shortly behind, her eyes looking expectantly out in the crowd to see her family and friends and searching rather impatiently for the one person that she wanted there the most. Harry wasn’t there. Harry wasn’t there at all.

“Of course, that’s what this is about, Harry! Are you dense?” Stella shouts without meaning to, frustration lacing her voice and making it nearly impossible to keep level headed. “You missed the most important competition of my career. For what? Because you overslept? Because you didn’t want to fly?”

“Stella.”

“Wait, were you sleeping with that one girl? What’s her name? Molly? The one that’s been following you around to all your matches, lately?” Stella seemingly has made up her mind before Harry’s even opened his mouth to respond. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“No, Stella. I have never and would never cheat on you,” Harry says sternly, shaking his head and taking a cautious step forward, his chin dropping to his chest when Stella takes a step away from him. “Don’t believe me, that’s fair, but I swear to you, I never cheated. I overslept. I got lazy and missed my flight. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“God, Harry, grow up! You’re such a fucking hypocrite!”

“I’m not a hypocrite,” Harry grits through his teeth, shaking his head and cracking his knuckles, clenching and unclenching his fists to try and gain control of his anger. He always had a bit of a temper. 

“How would you feel if I missed one of your matches? One of your biggest matches, because I was too tired from dance and from work and didn’t want to get on a flight.”

“I would understand, Stella,” Harry lies, trying desperately to soften his eyes and make her believe him. He wasn’t trying to manipulate her into staying, per se, but he certainly wouldn’t admit that he would be furious at her, that he wouldn’t take an apology and would likely need a few days to cool off from how angry he would be. “Maybe I wouldn’t understand, I would be angry. I wouldn’t break up with you, though.”

“No, Harry, you’d just give me the silent treatment until I begged you to come home and apologized for days,” Stella says confidently, anger lacing every word that she’s spitting out and making him all the more able to see that he won’t be winning this argument any time soon. “I know you, Harry Styles. I know you better than anyone, and I know how angry you’d be at me. Harry, you wouldn’t speak to me for days if I missed a match. And yet, you can miss my biggest competition, which I won, by the way, and try to get away with it scott free, without any repercussions. It doesn’t work like that, Harry. Life doesn’t work that way. Just because you’re good looking and a good boxer doesn’t mean you can just get away with anything!”

“I’m not trying to get away with it, Stella. I said I’m sorry!” Harry booms, his voice travelling around the bedroom and echoing in her ears, the velocity of his voice against the thin walls making sure their neighbors must’ve heard everything. Stella, frankly, doesn’t care at this moment. All Stella cares about is getting the hell away from Harry Styles. “Stella, please don’t go. I need you. You’re my lucky charm. I’ll fuck up if you’re not there.”

“That’s it? That’s why you want me to stay - because I’m good luck?” Stella asks astonishedly, shaking her head and zipping her suitcase even faster than she originally planned on it. Stella thought about making things dramatic, dragging it out slowly and surely, but of course Harry had to go and say something absolutely ridiculous to make her even more angry. Harry doesn’t know how to watch his mouth. “Fuck you, Harry.”

“Stella, I love you,” Harry says as a final plea, taking her wrist in his strong grip and turning her around, forcing her to look into his eyes. Stella’s expression is lifeless and cold, her honey eyes darkened and worn with anger. Harry doesn’t recognize this Stella, he doesn’t recognize her at all. This isn’t his Lucky Charm, his Stella Bella, his Stella. This isn’t his girl. This woman hates him. Hates him a lot. “Stella, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. I want you because I love you. I don’t care about the stupid, bloody fights.” Stella looks at Harry knowingly. “Okay, I care a little bit. It’s how I pay for my life. It’s my job, Stella. I was tired, and I thought it wouldn’t matter if I missed one competition. I wasn’t thinking. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Harry, you need to grow up. I would do anything for you, quite literally anything, and you couldn’t even get on a plane to see me perform on the biggest stage I’ve ever performed on, for a national title, for me. I lied to your family for you. I lied to my family for you. I lied to our friends. I told everyone your flight got delayed and you were watching the livestream. I won’t do that again. I won’t lie to the people I care about for you, ever again. I’m not going to put myself in that situation,” Stella says sternly, shaking her head and yanking her wrist away from Harry’s grasp. “Maybe one day we’ll make it work, but you need to grow up. Harry, you’re jealous and immature and you think the world revolves around you. News flash, it fucking doesn’t.”

“My world doesn’t revolve around me, Stella,” Harry shouts as Stella begins walking out the door. “It revolves around you! Everything I do is for you, Stella.”

Stella looks at Harry longingly, as if she wishes that the words were enough to make her stay. “If your world revolved around me, Harry, then you would’ve been there, and I wouldn’t be walking out the door, right now.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Knocking on Stella’s door came early, a bright seven in the morning with the sun freshly risen, a few hours before she was meant to meet River at the studio. They were meant to rehearse for a few hours at the studio, before Stella would go to the gym and meet Harry for his training for the match that was in a few week’s time. That Stella knew. That was all in Stella’s mind as she wrapped a robe around her figure and hurried to the front door where the knocking was incessant and repetitive.

This, though. This, Stella had no idea about. 

Stella opened the door, dazed and confused by River’s appearance, hurrying him inside and making a cup of coffee for them both. River had a bruise the size of a fist on his cheek, and a scrape along his forehead that makes it seem like he was smacked into the ground.

Immediately, Stella knew. Stella Smalls instantly knew who the culprit was and why it was happening. It made her furious. Harry always had a bit of a temper, a bit of a jealousy issue when they were together, but it was never anything that she couldn’t handle by herself. This, though, was too much.

“Look Stella, I love you. I love you as my friend,” River says softly, taking a sip of the coffee she’s set in front of him apologetically and running his finger around the rim. “I love you as a dancer, I love you as a partner, I do. I don’t want you to think that I don’t.”

“River,” Stella says hesitantly, knowing exactly where he’s going with his sentence, going exactly where she doesn’t want him to go. This could ruin her life, her chances at winning the title, of opening her own studio this year. This could ruin everything. All because of Harry.

“I can’t be your partner anymore, Stella.” There, River said it. Stella knew that was going to be it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting like a bitch. “Can’t be your partner, Stella, not if you’re going to be friends with Harry and he’s going to be around all the time. Harry is, quite frankly, Harry is a mess to deal with and a temper and a lot. Know that it’s not fair to make you choose, and I don’t plan on making you choose.” River is too good for Stella. Way too good. “I think you need to do this piece as a solo act for the world title. Stella, it’s so good. It really is. You’re going to perform it wonderfully on stage.”

“Except you can’t do it with me,” she says, toying with the rings on her fingers and clenching her knuckles together into fists, fighting the urge to smack her hand against the marble counter.

“Right,” he says regretfully, dipping his head to his chest and letting the air puff out between his lips. “I’m so sorry, Stella.”

“I, um, I think I need to be alone,” Stella sighs, saying every word with regret and shame and anger, sadness lacing every syllable. “I don’t understand, not really, but I’ll try to. Honestly, though, I just want to be alone, right now.”

River simply nods quietly and stands from the barstool at her kitchen counter, walking towards the entryway of her apartment and opening the front door. “I’ll see you at the studio?”

“Mhm,” she hums without saying a word, discontentedly drawing a circle around the rim of her mug and not daring to look away from the ceramic cup in her hands. 

“Bye, Stella,” River says as he walks out the front door, regret and sadness lacing his voice. Stella wants to punch him in the other eye for feeling pity for her. He should’ve been stronger, acted tougher, not let Harry get to him. Maybe Harry should’ve left him alone. “I’m sorry.”

Her head slowly nods and her eyes stay cast on the marble counter that she’s leaning on. Stella doesn’t want River to see her cry. Angry cry, that is. 

All of Stella’s anger is channeled towards Harry. All of it. Every ounce. There is not one bone in her body that isn’t infuriated with Harry Styles, that wants to punch him in the face and yell until her cheeks turn blue. Harry ruined her chance at the World Title by doing this. He’s ruined her chance at opening her own studio. He’s ruined it. 

Harry is at the gym, that’s easy to know. He always is. This calms Stella, knowing exactly where to go and what to do. Maybe not what to say, but that will come with her anger as she ruminates in the frustration. Stella wipes her tears from her cheeks, readies herself for the day - which includes wearing one of his training shirts and jeans and trainers - and hurries along to the gym down the street, rushing inside and bursting through the doors to see the man of the hour, pummeling away at a free-standing punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead. 

“Harry Styles,” Stella shouts, walking in and commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “Harry Edward Styles!”

“H,” Mack says, ripping an earphone from Harry’s ear and nodding towards where his ex-girlfriend is angrily walking towards them, hands balled into fists. “Got a visitor. An angry one.”

“Stell, what are you doing here so early?” Harry wonders confusedly, brushing his hair away from his forehead and sucking in a deep breath, slowly taking the gloves off his fists and tucking them under his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Stella scoffs, throwing her head back in a thick and pained laugh and lifting her hands in the air with a smack to her thighs. “Am I okay? River quit today. Quit the whole fucking routine. All because someone made one too many threats about being with me.”

“Have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry shrugs, walking away and pushing the door into the Men’s Locker Room open, waiting for the yelling to diminish, especially considering how many people were staring in the center of the gym. He reaches his locker, ignoring the calling of his name behind him and opens his locker, shoving his gloves and mouth guard into the metal container and taking a towel and wiping the sweat clinging to his forehead. His hand slams against the locker next to him, causing a banging sound to resound through the quaint space. 

“Don’t walk away from me, Harry,” Stella shouts from outside the locker room door, waiting rather impatiently for him to exit, and when he doesn’t in a near thirty seconds, she’s storming inside after him, ignoring the calls and squeamish shouts from the grown men changing in the midst of the room. “Fuck, Harry, you’re such an asshole, you know that! Making my partner quit on me, three months before my competition!”

“Awfully cozy with someone that’s just your partner, Stella,” Harry says sarcastically, drawing out every syllable and taking a step away from the locker, and standing with his hands on his hips as he stares at her, taking in the beauty that she gives off so effortlessly. “Not to mention, I didn’t make him quit. I simply said that he needed to take a step back. Coming to my fights with you. Kissing you. Making a show with you. That’s not what a partner does.”

“Harry, I’m not your girl anymore! I’m not someone you get to be jealous over and fight over! Get that through your thick head!” she screams angrily, huffing a breath and ignoring the stares that she’s receiving as the remainder of the men in the locker room leave the two to argue quietly.

Harry cracks open his locker and reaches for his water, his eyes falling to the photographs that are still stuck on the inside of the metal door. “Of course, that’s what you think, Stella, but, you’ll always be my girl.”

Harry can’t shut the locker door before Stella sees the photostrip, the three photographs of the two of them from their anniversary two years ago. “Is that?” Her eyes well with tears at the thought, the photographs that she searched high and low for after their breakup to try and hide away with all of the other things that she saved in a wooden box beneath her bed, all the photographs and memories that she wanted to keep for the day they, maybe, got back together like she had thought about, at first. “Have you kept them all this time?”

“Not like you were going to want them anymore,” Harry says spitefully, slamming his locker shut and walking towards where she is, setting his hands on either side of the locker that she’s standing against and holding her between his arms. “Not like you wanted me anymore.”

“Harry, don’t,” she says sadly, slinking beneath his arms and walking towards the locker, turning his birthday in the pin and opening the combination, her hands reaching for the photostrip and running her fingers along the tattered photographs, reminiscing sweetly on the memory. “Did you know I looked everywhere for these? I wanted them.”

“Wanted them for what, Stella? To what? Throw out?” Harry is angry, clenching his hands into fists and getting ready to take the photograph out of her hands before she can take them and run away with them. That’s the last thing that he has of Stella that isn’t broken and shoved in a bin beneath his mattress. That’s the last thing he has left of when his Lucky Star was his.

“No,” Stella sniffles, wiping her eyes and sticking the photograph back on the metal wall of the locker door. “I wanted to keep it for when we got back together, you prick. I thought, I thought we’d get back together. I didn’t think we’d stay apart.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Stella,” Harry warns, stepping around the bench separating them and leaning one hand on the locker next to Stella’s head, her thumbs tracing over the photographs where she’s hiding in his neck laughing and he’s holding her tightly, the one where they’re kissing and smiling and they look happy, because they were. Harry and Stella were so happy together. Harry softens looking at the tears on her cheeks, and cautiously leans forward to wipe a stray tear from her skin. “Stella Grace, look at me.” 

Cautiously, Stella lifts her head and meets Harry’s stare, his intense green eyes staring back at her longingly and - dare she say - lovingly, his thumb going under her chin and holding her face to his. “What, Harry? I’m not sure what else you could possibly want from me. Especially now, when I have no duet partner and the World Title is only three months away. You’ve royally fucked me over, Harry.”

“I am so sorry, Stella. I didn’t think River would quit.” Stella looks at Harry knowingly, threateningly, as if to say, I will leave if you don’t tell me the truth, and that whips Harry into shape. Harry can’t let her leave. This is selfish of him, of course it is. Harry loves Stella. Love can be selfish sometimes. Can’t it? “Okay, well, I hoped he would. I wasn’t thinking about you, though. That was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I love you, Stella. I act selfish and stupid when I think about you with someone else. It makes me do crazy things. Stupid things. Tell me what I have to do to make it right, Stella.”

Stella thinks for a minute, really contemplating all that Harry has said and how she feels and the emotions that are rushing through her in that moment, everything feeling a bit too much and like she needs to break away and find herself in the studio dancing over and over until she can make sense of everything. That’s what Stella does - Stella dances to make sense of everything. That’s when it hits her.

“Dance with me.”

“Huh?” Harry chokes out, shaking his head immediately and wondering how in the hell Stella came up with that as what he needed to do to win her over. “Stella.”

“Harry, you need to dance with me, or you need to leave me alone. That’s it.”

[hellsbedroom]

Arvin Russell // NSFW Alphabet

arvin russell x reader

Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Arvin needs a minute to recover, not gonna lie. He rests his forehead to yours and breathes the moment in. He’ll hold your cheek or squeeze your hand and whisper, “that was so good.” Then he always cleans you up with a damp rag and offers to get you a glass of water before laying back down. The afterglow is blissful, with your hand tracing shapes on his chest as he speaks softly and you doze off together.

B = Body part (favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

He never really thinks about it, but he supposes he appreciates his hands. They’re strong and lean and can be so harsh to people he wants to hurt. But at the same time they can be so soft with people he loves, especially you. He loves how you don’t mind the calloused pads of his fingers tracing over your skin after a long day at work.

And your legs could knock him flat any day. He loves their shape and how they look under any dress you’re wearing. He especially loves how good your legs feel when they’re draped over his hips when you straddle him. Squeezing your thighs is one of his favorite things in the world.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

If he can’t cum inside you, Arvin loves to cum on your chest. When you go down on him and let him drench your naked chest in cum he almost loses it. You just look so pretty and in love with him. He’s always good about cleaning it up after, especially if it got on any of your clothes. But even so, a little mess never hurt nobody ;)

D = Dirty secret (an interesting dirty secret of theirs)

He thinks about your lips all the time. Especially sitting in church, when things are supposed to be holy. He’ll dream of the curve of your lower lip or the new lipstick color you wore the day before. Thoughts of messing up that lipstick by making out or your pretty lips wrapped around his length always follow.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s had a little experience with a girl or two when he was in high school. Making out, fondling, he’s not totally new to the idea. But with you is the first time he really explores someone. And he’s a fast learner. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what makes you tick and where he can kiss you to make you moan like that. 

F = Fantasy (what’s their favorite fantasy/roleplay?)

Arvin will indulge in a nurse roleplay sometimes. You saunter in the room in a little white outfit with the red crosses and pretend to take care of him a bit (he answers everything with a smirk and “yes ma’am”) before he’s kissing you everywhere and trying to get the damn dress off. You take care of him so much in real life that a little fantasy play is the perfect way to spice things up.

G = Goofy (are they more serious or goofy in the moment?)

He can be playful with foreplay, anything to make you smile even while you’re just making out or trying to get your clothes off. But as things progress, he gets more serious. He wants to make sure you’re enjoying yourself and is so in awe of you that he sobers up and gets to work when you’re between the sheets.

H = Hair (how groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

He’s not really worried about grooming, but he’ll trim if he knows that’s what you prefer.

I = Intimacy (how are they in the moment, romantic aspect)

A huge romantic. Arvin won’t always set up flowers or candles but he’s so focused on being close to you that everything else fades away. He gives constant praise and keeps his eyes locked on yours when you need it most. His favorite thing is to always be holding your hand if possible, and squeezing when either of you reaches climax. It’s a way to anchor himself to you because the moment is so important.

J = Jackoff (about masturbation)

A guy’s gotta get stress relief somehow. Especially if y’all spend a few days apart. He’ll pull one out in the shower thinking of the last time he saw your figure splayed out beneath him. Sometimes you’ll leave a few racy polaroids for him to find and they become a treasured part of the routine.

K = Kink (any kinks)

Marking you with bite marks or hickies — where no one can see, of course. Slight daddy kink (saying “c’mon daddy” will end him). Pulling his hair makes him grin and now he’s sure to keep those locks long. And of course a praise kink!!! Breathlessly moaning that he feels so good, he’s hitting the right spot, that you love him and he’s doing such a good job. All of it will send him in a tizzy.

L = Location (favorite place to do it)

His car! It gives the two of you the most privacy when you can go park in a clearing far away from everyone else. You’ve figured out just the right way to lay on the seat to make it work and Arvin hovering closely over you is nice anyway. And it gives him a little pride when he’s driving alone and thinks back to all the things you’ve done on those seats.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A pretty new dress will do it, but what gets him most of all is when you sass him. Getting playful, sarcastically quipping at him, and teasing him with a twinkle in your eye. He cocks his head in surprise but loves it deep down. It makes him mutter “c’mere you” and chase you around, which always ends hot and heavy.

N = NO (something they won’t do, turn offs)

Hitting your face. It’s too degrading and he couldn’t bear it if he hurt you. 

O = Oral (giving and receiving)

Arvin is so eager to please, he wants to do right by you and one of the best ways he’s found is by fervently going down on you. Hearing the sounds you make and feeling you quiver around him sends him over the moon.

But you on your knees for him is a real pretty sight, too. You can make any bad day fade away with the things you do to him. He’ll never admit it, but he loves when you tease him, keeping him on the edge and driving him wild.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

If either of you have had a hard day, or you’re barely hidden in his car like giddy teenagers, he’ll be quicker and rougher. You’re breathing fast, his chest has a sheen of sweat, and his teeth glint in the darkness as he grins and takes you like there’s no tomorrow. Otherwise he’s on the slower side, taking his time to do it right. Burying himself in every inch of your form is important and you’re one of the most precious things in his life so he doesn’t like to be harsh. 

Q = Quickie (opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He has no real need for quickies; if he wants to fuck then he’s gonna do it properly and not let anyone rush him along. Especially if you’ve found a good secluded spot in the woods. Rushing it doesn’t allow him to fully appreciate you and your body anyway. On occasion it’ll happen if he has to head out to a work site for a few days and you can’t resist having him one more time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment?)

He’s not too keen on being risky other than maybe being caught out in the woods. He likes stability when he finds it. You’re the one who has to shyly bring up new ideas in the bedroom and he might be a little hesitant, but he’s willing to try anything once. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Early in the relationship Arvin busts quickly, he can’t help it. But now he can last decently long, especially because he follows the cardinal rule of getting you off first. And for stamina? The man is like an ox. As long as he has a bit of a breather between each round he can go for as long as you want.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them on a partner or themselves?)

You won’t find a lot of sex toys in 1960s small town America. Mostly he likes knowing he can get you off by himself anyway. But if you visit a big city and come back with a vibrator to play around with, he wouldn’t be opposed.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually Arvin gets right down to business, but he can get in moods where he’s a real tease. In public he’ll stick to pinching or swatting your ass when he’s in that mood. When you’re alone he’ll taunt, “you like that, pretty girl?” when he can tell you’re really enjoying yourself. Hearing you beg for him when he’s endlessly teasing makes his eyes blow wide and he can’t help but give in to you. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Surprisingly, he’s not quiet. He’s no screamer but you will definitely hear that he’s having a good time. He’ll groan deep in his chest when you nip at his neck or when he’s sinking into you, and he’ll gasp your name near the finish. And he’s always talking to you in between, murmuring how good it feels.

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

When he’s drunk: Arvin finds everything funny when he’s drunk. He chuckles at anything you do and will even take your hand and make you spin for him just so he can admire you. He leans on you more, burying his face in the crook of your neck even if you’re with friends and family. You’re always so happy to see him let loose and relax for a bit.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s in those pants)

He’s an average length and fairly girthy. Fills you up well. There’s also a curve to it that does wonders for you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Moderate. He can sometimes be really eager to get his hands on you, especially if you spend the weekend apart or something like that. Or he’ll sneak into your room late after you’ve gone on a date just to taste you again. But some days he just enjoys being around you with no pressure to perform in any way. 

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It varies. Sometimes Arvin will be out like a light as soon as he knows you’re satisfied and cleaned up. Other times he lays awake worrying for your safety or a dozen other things, and those nights you’re there to hold him and whisper the anxieties away with sweet nothings.

[grayintogreen]

[gently pushes pause on “this is a Critical Role blog” except bold of anyone to assume that I won’t change gears once a week, depending on what’s airing.]

Okay, so DAMN this episode had everything and I’ve usually been waiting for the dub and just reading summaries and watching clips for Yashahime but I plan on writing a few fics in this fandom for Februwhump (whaaaat), so I need to catch up and what better way to do so than watching the latest because BOY DID IT HAVE EVERYTHING.

What’s that, Chris? You like your stoic badass characters who care for like five people total who spent an entire series being the most selfish fuck known to god and man and then came into the sequel swinging that character development to get FUCKED UP because they were PROTECTING their loved ones?? Oh okay, here you go. Like GODDAMN.

(Also I love how Kirinmaru called back to that Inu-Papa “women and children shouldn’t be on a battlefield” thing while Sesshoumaru is literally standing behind him, taking a fucking breather and not yelling at the girls for tagging in, like damn way to drink the respect women and children juice there, Sess. He was like “oh my GOD Moroha why didn’t you RUN it’s like dealing with Mini-Inuyasha over here” but still let her do her shit and only stepped in when Kirinmaru was about to nuke his family and called them brats.

CAPTAIN BLOOD PRIVILEGE OVER HERE LIKE “HEY HERE’S AN ACTUAL EMOTION BECAUSE YOU CALLED MY DAUGHTERS AND NIECE A NAME.”)

Points were deducted from this episode because while my mama-loving heart did break down into sobbing bitch baby tears about Moroha and Kagome, I am still tapping my GODDAMN WATCH over Rin not getting to see her daughters, like come on man. The girl just got out of a tree and now her babies are in the Netherworld and her husband is literally engaged in a callback to the Night They Met what with the unconscious sprawl in the woods thing.

(I don’t know what a haku is in this context, but can it be solved by dumping water on his head? Because Rin can do that. She can do that good.)

Incidentally, loving Rin in the preview just standing in her shift and bare feet in front of Jaken, Takechiyo (who she has NEVER MET), and probably Sesshoumaru’s creepily glowing comatose body so Kirinmaru can’t get past her like this girl. THIS ABSOLUTE FIVE FOOT NOTHING OF A QUEEN.

I feel like given the opening, we’re about to head into a “pretend to be the villain of the piece, get a corruption arc” thing with Sesshoumaru, which... YES. YES, I AM EXCITED ABOUT. As long as he doesn’t die. If Sess dies of this and the end result is not every member of the Doggo Clan tackling his dumb ass into the ground and loving him back into whatever his definition of sense is, then what was the point. He’s the only member of the Sesshomaru Clan besides Towa that still has a Get Out of Death Card Free card, and I STAND by my “Sess is gonna get revived by the Tenseiga” theory and you can pry it from my cold fingers. I wrote the fic. I spoke it into existence, which, uh, given how fucking bad I am at theorizing (like seriously I am the opposite of Apollo’s gift of prophecy- no matter how well thought out my theories are THEY ARE NEVER TRUE, BUT GIVE ME THIS ONE.)

Anyway. LOVE THAT SHIPPO IS FINALLY GONNA SHOW AT LONG LAST... and has not aged a day. I mean it’s been 18 years, but Teen Shippo was everyone’s theory for awhile. But I mean the HUMANS have barely aged in 18 years, even the ones NOT stuck in time displacement, so keeping Shippo still Baby makes sense.

Also BOY did this season (mostly the new opening though let’s be real) come for my entire life with the Riku/Towa. I was pretty content to just ship the Old Hotness and leave the kiddos to being cute and sibling-y and GOD way to hit a dozen of my tropes. I’m hoping “Riku dies if Kirinmaru dies” (which oh my god YASHAHIME THAT TROPE IS GETTIN REAL OLD) is gonna be the new Kohaku Will Die Without the Jewel Shard and that’ll get resolved somehow. Like come on, let Towa and Riku be the GNC as fuck ship of dreams.

Anyway, looking forward to at least ONE adorable family reunion next week... and also finding out why the fuck Sesshoumaru is how he is right now and what’s that gonna do.

[writingsbychlo]

💭 not sure if the sleepover includes also smut headcanons, but Mitch getting frisky in a jacuzzi would be a dream

the sleepover is now over, no more submissions are being accepted!

mitch being forced to go on a holiday like RAYH

and booking a trip for himself and his girl

so, thats how he found himself staring out at the woods, kinda twitchy, trying to get reception on his phone

“will you come inside already? you haven’t even checked this place out.”

and shit, he knows that tone, you’re kinda mad at him.

so he puts his phone away, and fake smiles, and comes to look around

but, you’re not stupid

however, you kinda get it

he’s on-edge, he’s not really used to letting his walls down like this, he always needs to be alert

but you know this place is secure

stan personally checked it all out before recommending it

so, when mitch is finally taking a breather to unpack his things, you strike

wrapping your arms around his waist from behind and pressing a kiss between his shoulders

“you know, there’s a hot tub outside. I’m pretty sure I could figure out how to get it running.”

“I didn’t know there was a hot-tub, I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

“neither did I.”

then he’s smirking, because oh, okay, he can get on board with that

“how about, I go start up the hot tub, and when you’re all done here, you can come down, huh?”

“I don’t think it’ll take me so long now.”

and it didn’t

you’d barely given it a chance to start up, never mind warm up, before he was already downstairs, changed into some sweats, shirtless, and a towel in hand

“this’ll be fun, baby. try to loosen up a little, m’kay? I made you a drink.”

he has three drinks before it’s even ready, and he’s definitely relaxing a little

he doesn’t drink so often at home, again with the alertness, so he’s not as great with his drinks as you’d think, and he’s a little tipsy already

not that you aren’t too, of course, matching his drinks each time

so when it’s finally ready, he’s not even nervous when he strips down and climbs right in, a ludicrous moan as he does

“this is such a good temperature. its so nice. you comin’?”

“thought I’d give you a little show first.”

watching his jaw drop and eyes go half-lidded when you do a little striptease for him

and when you get in, it’s straight into his lap, giggling as you do

rubbing his shoulders and playing with his hair as you try to get him to fully relax

“see? this is nice, right?”

“it is nice.”

“you should relax more often. you’re gonna get frown lines.” 

rubbing at his forehead with your thumb, and him smirking

“not gonna love me when I’m wrinkly?”

“‘course I will, but I don’t want you get wrinkly prematurely.”

cutting off his half-heartened complains with a kiss

but he has roaming hands, and for a second, it had slipped his mind that you were both naked

he also has a roaming mouth

licking his way down to your chest when you start grinding up against him, feeling him start to get harder against your thigh

“yeah, baby, moan my name. nothin but miles of woods, you can go as loud as you want.”

and boy, did he make you meet that promise

clumsy hands fumbling in the water to line him up so you can ride him

and it’s so good

moaning into each other’s mouths as you do

sloppy kisses and bruising grips on your hips

but you can’t get grip in the water and he can’t thrust up

so it pretty quickly becomes you leaning over the edge, water sloshing onto the decking as he fucks you from behind

and then relaxing agasin once it’s over

probably some cockwarming

just sitting back in his lap and letting him fill you for a while

playing with his hair again

riding him, but slower this time

gasping breaths and sweet moans

less frantic, more controlled

and definitely making multiple trips to the hot tub while you’re on your vacation 

[doodle-fics]

Butterflies

Benimaru Shinmon x Reader

(Part 2/?)

A/N: I should’ve made this a long time ago but writer’s block keeps on dragging me. And I became busy when I’m taking care of my comics.

While making this, I think Y/N has a split personality... The kind and matured one you saw in part 1 and her savage(?) inner thoughts

It was a clear day and you can hear people are drumming, the members of company seven were making fireworks and people are shouting.

"Tamaya!"

"Kagiya!"

You were watching the fireworks as you absentmindedly produce some butterflies to the sky, matching the beat of the sound. You were humming, waiting for Benimaru’s orders.

“Y/N-san” you heard someone called you, which made you squeak, and the butterflies that you made, pop. It was two girls from company 8 and... The toothed boy, whom Benimaru called as an ‘imperial pup’

Not a pup, but a... 

“Yes?” you straightened yourself and smiled at them.

“We would like to help."

"I'm sorry, you are...?"

"Maki, Oze Maki. And this is Tamaki and Shinra" she smiled. "The rookies."

You nodded. "Then shall I lead you to where we should help?" the three of them nodded and followed your lead.

Benimaru was walking around the town, not minding the construction noises since it was normal for him. He saw the imperial's pup carrying a plank of wood.

"Oi"

He stopped, his toothed-smile never falters from his face.

"Please let Company 8 help!" he knew he would decline since it would disturb his turf. "With my ability, hauling stuff and elevated work will be no problem." he reasoned out and flew out.

He followed Shinra with his eyes, bored and then realize that there will be only one person who will let outsiders help.

"Waka-san" she greeted, with a smile. Her eyes were glowing since her butterflies are patrolling and keeping an eye on the Company 8.

He hummed as both of them walk in silence.

They stopped and Benimaru look at the scene once again.

"The Company 8 are doing a great job helping us you know." She said. "It's lively even though they are outsiders."

He hummed and again, began walking to their destination.

The bell, that is used for the alarm, rang.

"Today's work is done!"

"Today's work is done!"

You brought inside a basin of cold water.

"Konro-san, how is your back today?" you ask, as you put it beside Benimaru.

"You don't have to trouble yourself. Waka, Y/N..." Konro said, while kneeling on the tatami mat. "The youngsters have finally gotten a breather." Benimaru damp a cloth, twisting it to remove excess water and putting it to Konro's back. "Let us at least do this"

Konro flinched, making Y/N slightly move, ready to grab a first aid kid. "Does that hurt?" Benimaru asks.

"No, it's just cold" his reassuring smile never leaves his face.

A few seconds of silence, Benimaru spoke up. "You really... Should have been the one to become the captain, Konro."

"This is Company 7, where the rowdies come to live."

"Anyone who can't fight has no business being the captain." You said, looking at them and frowning. "Even if you can't fight physically, you have this" You said, pointing at your head. "But since this is Company 7's turf, I guess rowdiness is what's important"

"That's why you're Waka's right hand" Konro explained.

The twins opened the door, running towards Konro. "Konro! Waka! Y/N!"

"Oi, hold on" Shinra was behind both of the twins.

"What? What's going on?" Konro asks.

"This big bozo is chasing Hika and Hina, trying to capture us!"

"He's seriously screwed up!"

Both twins exclaimed, pointing at the imperial pup.

"I was just playing tag with you and you call me a bozo, you jerk?"

"Shinra-san, please don't call the kids jerk" you commented.

"I'm not showing off my flaming top for you anymore" Shinra stated.

"Flaming top?" you and Benimaru asks. The twins immediately went to you and both of them sat on your lap. They put your hand on top of their head and you caress their head.

"He shoots flames out of his feet and spins around wicked fast."

"It's so ridiculous!"

Your eyebrows twitching, imagining the boy circling, twirling upside down in his head, and the twins cheering him, shouting "Wey!" .

"It's breaking!" Shinra said, having enough of the twins' comments. "It's called break dancing! And it's not ridiculous, it's cool!"

You chuckled. "Shinra-san's childish side is showing" you said and the twins laughed.

Benimaru scoffed and smirked. "You're such a kid."

Shinra blushed in embarrasment.

"Sorry about this, Company 8." Konro stated. "Not only do we have you help with repairs, but now you're looking after the kids."

"We're not kids! We'll smoosh you, Konro!"

You chuckled. "You guys... Then what are you doing at my lap?" you asked. The twins latched their arms around your neck and pouted.

"We want to be with you! Is that wrong?"

"Yeah! Yeah! You're more fun than Waka and Konro."

"No, I don't mind hanging out with kids." Shinra said.

"Don't treat us like children!"

"Only Y/N can treat us like that!"

"We'll smoosh you Shinra!"

You saw how Shinra's face turned serious when he saw what state Konro was in. You stood up, carrying the twins.

"How about we watch Shinra's flaming top?" you asks. You look at Shinra, smiling. "Let's go"

Shinra closed the door behind him as he follows you outside.

-----------

The twins heard someone walking towards the door so they jumped, from you and walks/leaps towards Benimaru

"Waka!" they exclaimed

Shinra immediately straightened up and gave him a salute. "I'm sorry about before sir..."

"No problem without it."

"About Lieutenant Konro's body..."

"When a Thrid Generation exceeds the limit of his pyrokinesis, his body keeps incinerating if he keeps going and before long, is reduced to ash."

The thought of Konro being an ash makes your stomach churned.

"Tephrosis..." You said and Shinra looks at you. "Is this... Your first time seeing it?"

"We learned about it at the Training Academy, but this is my first time seeing it in person."

"At that time..."

You clenched your fists, remembering the events that happened before. You excused yourself because you can't handle it anymore and you wanted to puke.

"I need to talk to your Captain, where is he?"

"He actually asked me to come and get you, Captain Shinmon. He's across the street talking to Lieutenant Hinawa, sir."

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

Benimaru is walking towards his destination when he heard Company 8's captain's voice.

"That went well, right, Lieutenant?"

"Yes it did"

"We succeeded in turning that Kantaro guy into an infernal"

"Yes we did"

What?

"With her help, let's turn even more people in this town into Infernals"

He saw you with these two, you smiled sinister.

What are you talking about?

"Yes, let's do that"

"Let's drown this place in many Infernals." he heard you say. "Benimaru-san isn't suitable for being a captain in this Company. Let's use the Infernals and throw him down" you grinned.

He felt his heart throbbed. He felt rage and betrayed. You wouldn’t betray like him like that... Right? Or was your kind nature an act? That’s why you wanted them, the Company 8, enter into his turf so that your plan will be in motion. Oh... How he shouldn’t trusted all of you in the first place.

He suddenly unleashed his fiery anger and resulted explosions.

You heard the explosions, you began to summon the butterflies and run towards the explosion. Through your butterflies, you saw an angry Benimaru walking towards Captain Obi and Lieutenant Hinawa.

You run faster, hoping you could stop his anger. When you reached them, you saw how Benimaru burned his surroundings. You immediately run, in front of them, stopping the explosions.

The explosions were strong, so it threw you to the side. You were hoping that some of those explosions were made to be butterflies but it failed.

"We made him an Infernal? Captain Shinmon, what are you saying?" you heard Captain Obi asks.

"Don't play dumb! Your true intent is to turn this city upside down!" he looked at you and you flinched. This is the first time you saw him angry. "And you! You're planning to threw me out because I am unfit to be a Captain?!"

"What are you even saying?" You noticed that the sleeves of your kimono were burnt. You were hurt by his words. What the hell? You wanted to cry, but the lives of the Company 8 were at stake so, you bit your lower lip, preventing the tears to come out.

"You tricked us... I saw it with my own eyes"

"Both of you! Run away!" You exclaimed at the Company 8, but they won’t budge. "Waka-san! We won't trick you!" You said, standing up, producing more butterflies. "I didn't trick you" you said softly as butterflies flew at his way at a fast speed, trying to blow at some parts of his body to knock him out.

He made two balls of fire, aiming at you and the 2 outsiders. You immediately turn his balls of fire in a group of butterflies and Shinra, came as he kicked Benimaru.

"I don't know what you saw sir, but please take it easy!"

"What? Screw that! There's no reason to take it easy!"

"Waka-san! Please listen to us!"

"Evangelist my ass!" he gritted his teeth. "I saw your Captain and Lieutenant, with Y/N plotting how to turn this town's people into Infernals!"

"HUH?! Waka-san! What you're saying is absurd!" you shouted.

"You're mistaken!"

"I'll crush you all and string you up!"

Why does when everyone is angry their common sense have been thrown out of the window?

He surrounded himself again with some fire and you, turn it into butterflies.

"Waka! Whatever you saw it isn't us for fuck's sake!"

Shinra wanted to laugh at your sudden change in attitude. Tamaki and Maki are both confused at your language, and Arthur just laughed.

"Captain Obi, I don't think he's joking around." you said, "Please wait a minute Waka-san!"

"We don't want to fight you!"

"Then go ahead and defeat me. Prove to me what you really want!"

Waka-san, your common sense is now out of the window

"Right here, right now, prove yourselves! Prove your might makes you right! If you don't want to fight me, then prove it by fighting me!"

Waka-san are you an idiot?

"Bring it on Company 8! You're facing Benimaru Shinmon!"

The butterflies that have been formed earlier where flying everywhere, and through them, you saw a white-clad group.

"Waka-san! Please! Maybe what you saw was impostors!” you begged.

"Hinawa!"

"Leave it to me"

"Wait a minute!" You shouted, the twins cheered which it isn't helping. You can't help it anymore, tears started to fall down your cheeks.

"Hiding behind women and children? That's rotten"

"Stay back!" you heard Maki say, pushing you back as you wipe your tears, deflecting the fire.

"You think you can deflect that?" Benimaru asks. You pushed her away as he clenched his fist to gather all the fire and attacked you.

And the impact made you knock out.

"Maki-San! Y/N-san!" That's the last you heard as your body hit the ground.

[obwjam]

stowaway (bad batch x tiny)

this piece is titled: the bad batch s1e1 “aftermath” except instead of omega it’s a tiny who was a stowaway on their ship from kaller and they discover her on the way back to kamino and now they have to hide her from everyone

(bad batch spoilers included so if you care pls watch the ep before reading!)

———————————————————————

Truth be told, Jara was just as confused as the rest of them.

It was nothing atypical. Battle droids on one side, clones and Jedi on the other, all screaming and firing blasters and blowing everything to hell. Though tinies were often isolated from everything, the Clone War was the exception.

Which is why it was time for her to leave. Again.

She had already lost countless friends and family throughout her life with no massive conflict in her backyard. At this point, she just had to look out for herself; not to mention the horror stories of what happened to tinies when captured by the Separatists were at the forefront of her mind. So when she found an empty ship in the woods, she smuggled herself inside and went about observing the place. There were unopened rations and some rather awful-smelling clothes scattered about, which told her that this ship was definitely not abandoned or out of commission. There were no droids, either, so she had to assume it was a Republic ship. Perfect. Wherever it stopped at next, she would sneak off and see if she could find some other tinies to settle with for a while.

Just her luck that the clones who owned this ship were, well… these guys.

“Whatever’s happening here, I don’t like it.”

She gasped and ducked behind an object on the table when she heard the voice.

“Best not to worry about it until we get back home. Plotting coordinates now.”

She cautiously leaned out from behind the object to get a better look. There were five people -- clones, she inferred from the armor, but they didn’t really look alike at all. One with goggles was piloting the ship, while a bulky one with a big scar was slumped over in the chair adjacent to him. The other three were exchanging distressed looks between themselves and the floor.

“How long’s it gonna take?!” the bulky one groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. She flinched.

“Wrecker, please.” This one had long hair and a tattoo covering half his face. “Just relax a little.”

“Maybe you can relax, Hunter, but I wanna keep fightin’!” Okay. He was Hunter, and he was Wrecker. Not exactly the type of names you’d want to make enemies with.

“Hunter’s right. We could all use a breather after… well, after what just happened back there.” This one was pale and had a bunch of cybernetic attachments on his head. Ick.

“Hmph.” The last remaining clone, who had grey hair and a toothpick hanging from the corner of his mouth, grunted in displeasure. Hunter didn’t seem to like that.

“Got somethin’ to say, Crosshair?” 

Crosshair folded his arms and didn’t say a word.

It was a fairly short, uneventful ride. The group mostly sat in silence, occasionally sharing a thought or two as they saw fit. There seemed to be a bit of tension, though, as Hunter and Crosshair kept exchanging pointed glances.

There was an uncomfortable lurch as the ship dropped out of hyperspace. Jara yelped and stumbled forward, but nobody noticed.

“We’re coming up on Kamino,” the pilot said. Hmm. Kamino. She had never heard of it.

“It’s good to be home,” Wrecker sighed from the passenger chair. “How long has it been?”

“One hundred and eighty rotations in a standard cycle…” the pilot started, and that was when Jara zoned out again. He sure had a penchant for droning on and on.

“You sure that padawan died when he fell?”

Her stomach dropped as she snapped back to attention. Wait, padawan? Died? Why did they need to make sure a Jedi was dead?

“Sure I’m sure. Why?”

“Well, usually when someone falls, you look down, not… across… uh, what is that?”

She froze. Even through the helmet, she knew Crosshair was staring right at her. She could tell because she couldn’t stop staring right back at him. Her mind told her to run, but her legs wouldn’t respond. She thought she was hidden -- only a little bit of her was poking out from behind the object she had settled down behind. But all it took was one passing glance for Crosshair to spot her. She was practically pinned down by his gaze as the others, minus the one piloting the ship, followed his stare to where she stood, shaking.

“What’s what? I don’t see anything,” Wrecker whined, standing up. She gulped. He was huge.

“There,” said the pale one, robotic arm pointing right at her. “Behind one of Tech’s… things.” Even through her terror, she managed to sniff a laugh. Tech is a ridiculous name.

Wrecker tilted his head and squinted, but it didn’t take long to find her. “Oh. Oh. Woah…”

“Don’t,” Hunter warned. He stuck his arm out in Wrecker’s direction as he inched closer to the strange, cowering girl in front of him. “We don’t know what it is.”

“What what is?” came the voice of Tech from the cockpit. He quickly set the ship to autopilot before excitedly bounding to where the other four were standing to see what was going on. “What are we looking at?”

“On the table,” Crosshair muttered. His piercing gaze didn’t waver for a moment. Her eyes flickered over to Tech, whose own eyes were wide as he finally saw her. He reached for his tablet and furiously began typing into it.

“It’s… it’s a tiny,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“Yeah, we can see it’s tiny,” Wrecker frowned.

“No, Wrecker,” Tech shook his head. “That’s what their species is called. They’re a… a race of miniature humanoid beings that inhabit thousands of planets across the galaxy.”

“Oh…” Wrecker was at a loss for words. Never in his entire life had he seen something so small. So vulnerable. He took a few cautious steps, and Hunter grimaced at the way she seemed to shrink back as he approached.

“Come on, Wrecker, don’t get too close.”

“Why not? I can barely see the little guy!”

“Girl.”

“What?”

“I… I think it’s a she,” Tech said, his goggles whirring as they analyzed her. 

“Does she speak basic?” the pale one asked. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, either.

“I’m… not sure. There’s not really too much data here… height ranges anywhere from two to five inches… there have been some documented cases of tinies living well over 100 years…”

“If they’re all over the galaxy, why have we never seen one before?” Hunter posited, trying to keep his voice low. She clenched her jaw every time one of them spoke.

“...And why is this one on our ship?” Crosshair asked pointedly, narrowing his eyes. Her stomach began to turn.

“Why don’t we just ask?” Wrecker proposed. Hunter and the pale one exchanged an uncomfortable glance, but Wrecker didn’t wait for permission. He closed the gap between him and the table and took a knee. 

Her grip tightened on the object as she craned her neck upward. Even when he leaned down, he still towered over her.

“What’s your name, little guy?” he practically yelled at her, making her wince and look away. 

“Wrecker, can’t you see she’s terrified?” Hunter groused. 

Crosshair rolled his eyes. He didn’t feel right about this “tiny” being on their ship. For all they knew, she was a Separatist spy. “Enough of this,” he grumbled. He lunged forward with an outstretched hand, ready to get to the bottom of his, but stopped short of her when she pulled out a weapon, pointing it at them with shaking hands.

“DON’T!” she yelled, stunning the five clones in front of her. They were not expecting to hear her voice, much less see her unsheathe a sword that had no chance of harming anyone. “I--I’m sorry, I--I just needed to get off Kaller, please, I wasn’t going to -- I wasn’t gonna take anything, I swear! Just -- just stay back!”

She couldn’t believe this. She had never been seen before. Not once in her entire life. And here she was, finally able to escape that wretched cold planet and start a new life, and now she was going to be caged and sold on the black market like every other tiny was when they were discovered. Or maybe these weird clones would keep her as a prize.

Hunter blinked. Her tiny little sword was adorable, and there was no way it would ever make a dent in any of them. But he at least admired her ability to stand her ground. He couldn’t blame her, either -- being stared down by five enhanced clones had to be nothing less than horrifying to someone so small.

“Hey, relax… we’re not gonna hurt you,” Hunter said calmly, holding up his hands. “We just want to know who you are and what you’re doing on our ship.”

It took her a moment to stabilize her breathing, but she was able to gather enough strength to wipe away the tears she barely even realized had formed in her eyes and fully take in the giant in front of her. He was certainly terrifying by virtue of the fact that he was leaning so close to her, but the curiosity in his eyes… the way his mouth hung slightly agape… the softness of his expression… he was just confused. It was the same look she was giving him.

“I… I--I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I just... I had nowhere else to go…”

“Were you running from the Seps?” the pale one chimed in. 

She shrugged. “I was running from the war.”

“Is Kaller your home planet?” Tech asked, popping into view behind Hunter. 

She shook her head. “I’ve been planet-hopping my whole life. I’ve just been on Kaller for a really long time. I’m not really sure where I’m from.”

“Hey, you never answered my question!” Wrecker cried, cutting off Tech, who was preparing to ask a follow-up question. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Jara,” she said, voice quavering. Wrecker’s eyes lit up when she spoke -- he was just happy she was addressing him. “I, uh. I know all your names,” she managed to say. “Except you.”

The pale one was taken aback. “Um. I-I’m Echo.”

“Echo,” she repeated. That was nothing like the other four names.

“If you just stumbled upon our ship, how do you know our names?” Crosshair asked, eyebrows raised as he dared to lean in closer. 

She let out a nervous laugh. “You-- you all said each other’s names in conversation. I just connected the dots.”

“Hm.” Crosshair wasn’t sure if he believed that.

“Lighten up, Crosshair,” Hunter grumbled. “She’s obviously not a threat.”

“That we know of.”

“Well actually, according to this data, tinies appear to be a peaceful, primitive people,” Tech said. “They have little to no means to inflict any meaningful damage upon us or anyone else.”

Jara scrunched her face up and glared at Tech. “Yeah, well, you don’t need to say it like that,” she mumbled. She was surprised when Hunter snickered.

“So you really came to our ship just to flee your planet?” Wrecker asked in a rare moment of calmness. He couldn’t stop staring at this tiny girl -- he was surprised she even managed to stay alive long enough to find someplace to hide. But now that she was here, well, he felt as if it was his responsibility to keep her safe. Even the smallest of creatures could be deadly to her.

“Yeah,” she said, taking a few shaky steps forward. “I--I just needed to get somewhere safe, that’s all. Maybe find some more tinies. I was going to leave right when you landed somewhere, honest.”

“Well, there certainly won’t be any tinies where we’re going,” Tech scoffed.

“...where are we going?” she dared to ask. 

“Kamino. Our home planet.”

“More like a factory than a home,” Hunter mumbled. Jara stiffened. That did not sound like a place she wanted to be.

“There is no we here,” Crosshair scolded, glancing around at his brothers. “There is no place for you there, tiny. It’s just the clones and the Kaminoans. You wouldn’t even survive the night.” He paused, taking in the looks of apprehension from everyone. “What? We’re not seriously going to take her with us, are we?”

Hunter grimaced and shot Jara a look that said sorry about him. After a few beats of uncomfortable silence, Tech spoke up.

“...maybe just until we get sent on another mission,” he said, uncharacteristically meek. “I mean, there are so many questions I want to ask. This could be our only chance to gather data.”

Jara rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

“What are we gonna do, Crosshair, make her stay on the ship? There’s nowhere else for her to go.”

“She should have never been here in the first place,” Crosshair mumbled, clearly outnumbered in his opinion. 

“But she is. And she was just trying to save herself,” Echo added. “There’s nothing wrong with that. I say we help her while we can.”

“Wrecker? What do you think?” Hunter asked, turning to the largest clone. He had been strangely quiet for the last few minutes.

“Huh? Uh, yeah, yeah. We should help,” he stumbled. “I don’t see anythin’ wrong with that.”

A loud beep echoed from the cockpit, prompting Tech to shoot up from his seat. “Strap in, boys. And, uh, girl. We’re coming in for a landing.”

Jara stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do, until a giant hand was placed at her side. She yelped.

“Climb on, kid,” said Hunter, fully aware of how spooked Jara looked. “I’ve gotta hide you somewhere.”

“She can hide with me,” Tech piped up from the front. “I have some space in my belt.”

“You okay with that?” Hunter asked. Jara’s glance shifted from Hunter’s face to his hand to Wrecker and back to Hunter. 

“Um. Sure,” she said weakly. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Nope!” Wrecker beamed. “Unless you want the entire clone army to know you’re here!”

“...The belt sounds wonderful.”

“Good.” Hunter stayed patient as Jara gathered up the courage to willingly climb onto a human hand. She took a few deep breaths and clenched her fists before shutting her eyes and leaping up to his palm in one try. Hunter sniffed a laugh.

“I’ll go slow,” he said, gently standing up and taking careful strides toward Tech. Jara tried her best to stay still, but Hunter could both feel her tension and her trembles. Once the ship was parked, Tech flipped open the flap to one of his belt pockets. Jara grabbed onto Hunter’s thumb when he lowered his hand down and hesitated for a brief moment before climbing into the pocket. Everyone was watching her, and she didn’t like it.

It was hard to hear what was going on outside, but as the group made their way through the hangar and back to their barrack, she was barely able to make out the words “Grievous”, “defeated” and “over”. Did that mean what she thought it meant?

Light flooded her vision once again when Tech’s giant hand snapped open the pocket. Without really thinking, he reached down and scooped her up, causing Jara to yelp and grab onto one of Tech’s fingers for dear life as she was pulled up at a breakneck speed.

“Oh. Sorry,” Tech blushed upon seeing her sickened face. The way she was clinging onto him was nothing short of adorable. “Guess that was a bit sudden.”

“A warning next time would be *hic* nice,” Jara groaned. “Oh, stars. This place smells worse than the ship.”

“Told you,” Crosshair grinned, nudging a sad-looking Wrecker. 

Echo leaned down. “You’ll get used to it.”

Jara gave a weak smile before turning her attention to Tech, who was beaming down at her. Sitting in his hand, she really had no choice but to endure his questions.

“So, goggles. What do you wanna know?” she asked, knowing such a question would make Tech explode. And it did. Even Hunter was starting to get sick of it after Tech had asked every question and written down every note he possibly could. 

“What about special skills? Do you have heightened agility, superb senses? Anything like that?”

Jara shrugged. “I mean, maybe. I dunno. I don’t really know what’s… normal.”

“Hmm…” Tech wrote her answer down word-for-word. “What if we tried--”

Across the room, Wrecker had finally lost it. “Ugh, can somebody shut him up?! I can’t take it anymore!”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand the importance of--”

“--I think he’s right, Tech,” Hunter jumped in. “You should give her a break.”

“And give us a break,” Crosshair mumbled to himself.

“I-it’s okay,” Jara interjected. The last thing she wanted was to become the center of another conflict. “You can ask me more stuff later. I don’t mind, really.”

“Later…” Tech repeated. “So, what? Are we going to keep you?” 

“Keep--keep me?” Jara gulped, her eyes flying wide.

“I think he means let you stay here with us for a little longer than a night,” Hunter said. “Right?” 

“Well, since we have to go to that meeting soon, and then who knows what we’ll be asked to do after, I just assumed she meant she would be staying with us for a while, considering there are multiple tests I need to run now. Not to mention all the questions I’ll surely have after that.” Tech paused, giving a look of hurt to the group. “I thought that was obvious?”

“Tech, come on, you’re freaking her out!” Echo cried. He was right. At the mere mention of the word test, Jara had tensed up again. “Can we even do that? Actually harbor a stowaway with us?”

“It’s definitely against regulations,” Hunter mused.

“...so we gotta do it, right?” Wrecker jumped in with a big grin. “I mean, come on! She has a tiny sword! That’s awesome!”

“Well, I guess that’s up to her,” Hunter smiled, turning his attention back to Jara. Her gaze was bouncing back and forth between all five clones, though it was obvious to Hunter that she was trying to avoid looking at Crosshair. “Whadda ya say? Do you wanna lay low with us for a while?”

“You really mean that?” she asked, overtly aware of the fact that this could be a trap. After all, it was clear one of them didn’t like her. But the others… Tech was overzealous, sure, but he was earnest in his curiosity and desire to simply know more about her. Echo was definitely reserved, but seemed to be just as concerned for her as the others. Wrecker was just a big ol’ kid. He seemed to like her just fine. And Hunter… well, Hunter couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He was rational. She knew he believed her story, however unbelievable it may be. 

Hunter nodded. “Yeah, I do. I can’t guarantee anything, but we’ll try and keep you safe until we can find you a better place to live. I should warn you, though. Our squad’s nothing but trouble. It might get dangerous.”

“The only thing I’ve ever known is danger,” she shrugged. “And I’ve stayed alive this long.”

Wrecker let out a bellowing laugh. Even though it shattered her eardrums, she couldn’t help but smile back. “Ha! I like her!”

Jara didn’t say it, but in that moment, everyone seemed to pick up on it. She liked them too.

[thatringboy]

Meet my OC Maei! She’s a Geo Archer from Natlan!

Optimistic Avenger

“I used to only exist to make my superiors happy, but now I exist to find my own happiness!”

A young outlander who hails from the Muratan Clan. She hopes to one day grow strong enough to protect her new family and friends from her mysterious past

General Information

Name: Maei Fa

Age: 29

Affiliation: ???

Birthdate: September 22

Starsign: Virgo

Constellation: Beatus Luto

Weapon: Bow

Vision: Geo

Voice Claims

CVA: 纯良少女小菊花酱 (if someone can find her name in the English alphabet I will love you forever)

JVA: Asami Seto

EVA: Daniella Medrano

Voice Lines

Hello: Hi! I’m Maei Fa! Need me to draw you up a map? Build a mud castle? Take down some bad guys? I’m up for the task!

Good Morning: Good morning, Traveler! Tell me, what do you want for breakfast? I’ll make it super quick!

Good Afternoon: Yo, are we stopping to eat? When the sun’s up, so is my hunger! … don’t tell Yangyue though

Good Evening: C’mon, I’ve still got some time to spare, let’s keep going

Good Night: *Yawn* Are we setting up camp? Or should I switch into my energy reserves?

When It Rains: Let’s go jump in the mud! Don’t call me childish!

When It Snows: Brr… last time I was this cold was the last time Yangyue and I fought and she “conveniently” didn’t pin down our tent flap all the way

When It’s Sunny: Ah the sun’s out! Let’s go run across the beach to catch some crabs!

Favorite Food: Mhmm, I’m in the mood for… Chicken Skewers! Just put some meat over a campfire and rub some spices over it… man my mouth is watering at the thought

Least Favorite Food: I’m not a fan of sweets… Yangyue’s the one with the sweet tooth in this relationship, not me

About: Vision: My Vision? I don’t like to talk about my past a lot, but I trust you with this information. After I discarded my old identity, I ran into the forests of Fontaine to hide from my enemies. I sat in the woods for three weeks eating nothing but bugs and berries and wallowing in my own self pity. I wished that the ground would swallow me up and bury me for the sins I committed. Instead, I woke up to a new morning and to find a Vision next to me. I met the love of my life that very same day

About: Interests: I’m a Cartography nerd on the inside. I could spend hours detailing a map of Inazuma’s Watatsumi island! There’s something so satisfying about stepping away from a completed map of a region and putting the first pin in. Do you want to see my most recent project?

About Childe: I haven’t been in contact with Ajax for a little bit. He hasn’t checked in like he’s supposed to with Yangyue… did something happen to him during his assignment in Liyue? Oh, Traveler, did I say that out loud? J-Just pretend you didn’t hear any of that!

About Diluc: You know the Darknight Hero? How do I know him? Eh, it’s been about a year since we last spoke, but we teamed up together a few times in the past. What were we doing? Oh, uh, I-I think I hear Yangyue calling me!

About Yangyue: She’s my wife! We met at a conference in Fontaine’s capital city… actually right outside of it since I wasn’t invited in hehehe… She was representing the Milileth of Liyue and had gotten into an argument with some trade partners, so she stepped outside to take a breather. I smacked right into her and made her drop all of her things! Ack, I was SO embarrassed! Six years later, here we are!

About Iansan: I’ve heard a bit about her, but not much to make a profile of her character. She sounds like a chaotic kid, a bit like me as a little girl, hehe

About: Knights of Favonius: So that creep Eroch was finally fired, Eh? Y-you want to know how I know about private gossip from Mondstat? Let’s just say I know a guy

About: Family: I… haven’t had a real family in a while. I don’t even remember the face of my father… I thought I had a family with… this one group I used to run with. But I was deeply wrong and I can’t take back the things I did with them. Now, Yangyue and I have our own family with her mom and some other people who wish to remain anonymous hehehe

About: The Fatui: … The Fatui only know how to steal and kill. They burned down my home village, murdered my parents, extorted my people and—! … *Sigh* and I did worse things than even all that.

About: “Innamorati”: How do you know that name?! Who told you that information?! I bet he told you! Oh, when I get my hands on that little shi— what does it mean? To put it firmly, it means “the immortal lovers”. It was a name that mocked the way my parents - our village’s only Vision holders - died in each other’s arms. I never want to hear that name fall from your lips again, do you understand me?

About: Numbers: I’ve gotta say, my favorite number has to be twenty-three. Why? Because my beloved was born on the twenty-third day of the second month! It’s hard to forget a birthday that is two-twenty-three! My least favorite number will always be eleven, I’m sure you can guess why

About: Weapons: What made me choose to use a bow despite my Vision? Well, I grew up training under my village leader to be a hunter for the community. When that all went south, I became a sharpshooter to make do in… less than desirable circumstances. Once I freed myself, I went back to my roots and took up a bow once more. And I have to say: I’m pretty good with it!

[chloelucia13]

Chapter Three: Holly Jolly

Pairing: None for the moment (current Jonathan Byers x platonic!reader

Prompt: You always thought Hawkins was the most boring town of all, stuck in a vacuum void of excitement and entertainment. Well, it seemed that until the world decided to flip upside down, literally.

Chapter Summary: What you had seen the night before had haunted you, and you thought what happened with Jonathan was going to be the worst thing to happen that day. But what they found in the quarry decided to overshadow anything else that happened.

Warnings: angst, fluff, language, some horror elements, some drama, basically what you expect from me and Stranger Things

Word Count: 2370

A/N: Here’s the next part! Hope you guys like it! Here’s part one and part two!

“Y/N? Y/N!” 

You jumped in your seat, your hand jolting forward and connecting harshly with your jaw. You let out a hum of pain and rubbed over the spot, looking up at your friends around the table.

“You okay?” Nancy asked, leaning over and touching your shoulder.

“You seem like you were pretty spaced out,” Steve teased, chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” you insisted, shaking your head as if to clear the thoughts from it. “Just thinking.”

“What about? That Byers guy you seemed so head-over-heels for?” Carol chimed in, letting out a laugh.

“He’s just my friend-”

“And Steve and Nancy are just friends too,” Tommy added, joining in with Carol on making you even more miserable than you already were.

“Alright, cut it out,” Steve broke in finally. “God, you guys are fucking annoying.”

You offered him a shy smile before looking around the lunch table. “Where’s Barb?” you asked after a moment, earning groans from Carol and Tommy.

“If you weren’t so dazed out, you would’ve heard that she skipped school today,” Carol grumbled.

“Skipped school? That doesn’t sound like Barb.”

“Who knows. Maybe she changed,” Tommy insisted, clearly wanting to drop the subject. You took the hint and stayed silent.

However, no matter how hard you tried to keep yourself from drifting away into your thoughts, they lured you in. The blaring radio and the flashing lights. The face in the wall. 

You couldn’t tell anyone about it. No one would believe you, they’d think you were going crazy like how Joyce was. Jonathan didn’t even believe his own mother, why would he believe you?

As soon as the bell rang, you shot up from your seat and slung your bag over your shoulder, hurrying out of the cafeteria and leaving everyone behind. Nancy caught up, though, and tried her hardest to keep up with you. “Hey, are you okay? Really?” she inquired.

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I just... I didn’t sleep well last night. That’s all.”

“Alright.” She let out a sigh. “How’s Dustin?”

You shrugged. “He seems fine. Worried, definitely, but nothing out of the ordinary. How’s Mike?”

“You’d probably know better than I do. He just seems... Off. Nervous. I guess that’s warranted, though.”

I guess I’d be nervous too if one person went missing and another one appeared, you thought to yourself. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She stopped in front of her classroom, offering you a smile. See you after school?”

You nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. See you then.”

***

You honestly couldn’t tell if school sped by or if it inched along, but you knew that you were relieved when the final bell of the day rang. You packed everything up and hurried out of the school and over to the parking lot, looking for some silent refuge.

Your heart leaped to your throat when you saw Jonathan walking out of the school and up to his car. You immediately hurried over to chew him out, your eyes growing wide when you saw Steve and his group lounging on Jonathan’s car, along with a girl you didn’t know.

“Hey man,” Steve announced, walking closer.

“What’s going on?” Jonathan voiced, tensing up. You stepped closer to him, making yourself visible to him.

“Nicole here was, uh, telling us about your work.”

“We’ve heard great things,” Carol hummed, smirking.

“Yeah, sounds cool,” Tommy added.

“And we’d just love to take a look. You know, as... Connoisseurs of art,” Steve urged, stepping ever closer.

“What is this about?” you demanded, glancing around the whole group. 

“Trust me, Y/N, you’re gonna want to see this-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jonathan cut in, trying to push through the crowd to get to his car.

“Oh no? Oh...” Steve hummed as Tommy ripped Jonathan’s bag away from him and tossed it to Steve who immediately began rifling through the contents.

“Steve!” you scolded, trying to reach out and grab the bag from him.

“Please just give me my bag,” Jonathan begged. “No, just...”

“Man, he is totally trembling. He must really have something to hide,” Steve hummed as if it was a completely casual observation.

“Here we go,” Steve hummed, pulling a stack of pictures from his bag and flipping through them. “Oh man.”

“Let me see!” Tommy flipped through the pictures, his eyes wide. “Dude.”

“Yeah, this isn’t creepy at all,” Carol scoffed

“I was looking for my brother,” Jonathan claimed, turning to you. “Y/N, please-”

“No.” Steve guffawed. “No, this is called stalking.”

You looked confusedly at Jonathan, body starting to shake with worry. 

“What’s going on?” Nancy piped up, stepping into the group.

“Here’s the starring lady,” Tommy teased.

“What?”

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol exclaimed, a nefarious smirk on her face. “He was probably gonna save this one for later.” She handed a particular photo to Nancy.

Steve clicked his tongue. “See, you can tell he knows it was wrong, but... Man, that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hardwired into ‘em. You know, they just can’t help themselves.” Steve patted Jonathan’s shoulder and fussed with his collar.

“What the fuck is going on?” you shouted finally, reaching over and grabbing the pictures.

“Y/N, please don’t-” Jonathan begged.

Your heart sunk to your shoes as you saw what exactly the pictures contained. Nancy at Steve’s house, getting thrown into the pool, getting undressed. “Oh my god,” you choked out. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. “This is where you were last night? While I was at your own brother’s fucking vigil?”

“Look, you even got your own little girlfriend to hate you,” Tommy chided.

“I am not his fucking girlfriend,” you hissed, tears beginning to stream down your face.

“So,” Steve continued. “We’ll just have to take away his toy.” Steve held up Jonathan’s camera.

“Steve...” you and Nancy voiced.

“Please, not the camera,” Jonathan pleaded, his shoulders hunched as Tommy began to hold him back. 

Steve stepped forward. “No, no, wait, wait... Tommy, Tommy,” he rushed, taking the camera from him. Steve planted a smile on his face and faced Jonathan. “It’s okay. Here you go man.”

He held the camera out, waiting until Jonathan moved forward to let it fall from his hands and tumble onto the asphalt. Tommy laughed maniacally as Jonathan rushed to try and catch it, save it, do anything. 

“Come on, let’s go. The game’s about to start.”

“Boo,” Tommy spat in Jonathan’s face, following behind Steve.

Carol took the photos in her hands and ripped them apart, letting the shreds flutter to the ground. “Bye,” she hummed, stepping over him and strutting off.

Nancy, however, lingered for a moment before kneeling down and examining the photos.

“Hey Nance! Come on!” Steve shouted. Nancy gave Jonathan a look before gathering the shreds of a few photos and following behind the group.

After everyone was gone, you slowly dropped to the ground and helped Jonathan pick up the shattered scraps of his camera. “Y/N, I-” Jonathan began.

You just shook your head, shoveling the pieces into his hands before getting up and leaving.

***

As you drove home tears streaking down your face, you remembered that Dustin had told you that morning that he and the group were going to bike around and look for Will. At the last moment, you turned onto Mike’s street and parked along his house, hopping out of the car and hurrying over to the power lines you knew they always met at. 

“Guys! Wait up!” you shouted, stopping them just before they sped off. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mike shouted back. 

“Were you crying?” Lucas chimed in.

“Can we talk about that later? I just wanna get my mind off of things. Can I come with you guys?” you explained. 

They all exchanged a look. “Nancy’s bike is in the garage,” Mike admitted after a moment. 

After you had gotten the bike out of the garage, you all had sped off through the field and up to to the trails in the woods. Once the terrain became too rocky and expansive, you all walked your bikes along the trail.

“So are you ever gonna tell us why you were crying or are you just gonna keep that a secret,” Dustin pushed.

“It’s just... Something you don’t need to worry about,” you explained away, habitually scrubbing at your cheeks to make sure the tear stains weren’t there.

“Come on. Something has to be bothering you if you wanted to spend time with us instead of Jonathan,” Lucas teased.

You let out a sigh and chewed on your lower lip. “Well I can’t exactly hang out with Jonathan because...”

“Because he’s the reason you’re crying?”

You nodded slowly. “Besides. I need to spend more time with you guys anyway. And make sure you guys are safe.”

“We’re always safe!” Dustin argued.

“Yeah, because wandering around looking for Will in the middle of the woods is totally safe.” You let out a sigh. “Anyway, enough about me. What happened at school with you guys? How’d you get that scrape, Mike?”

“I just fell at recess,” he explained hesitantly. 

“Mike, friends tell the truth,” Eleven explained slowly.

“Exactly, El,” you agreed, offering her a smile.

Mike let out a sigh. “I was tripped by this mouth-breather named Troy, okay?”

“The same Troy with the dickwad dad?”

“That’d be the one.”

“Mouth-breather?” El questioned.

“Yeah, you know. A dumb person. A knucklehead.”

“Knucklehead?”

“I don’t think you should explain a slang term by using another slang term,” you teased.

***

The five of you had been walking for what seemed to be hours. Your hands and face were numb from the cold, and your whole body was aching from standing for so long. Everyone seemed to be riddled with exhaustion, as there was little to no sound coming from any of you.

Finally, El came to a stop.

In front of the Byer’s house (and you couldn’t help but notice that Jonathan’s car was nowhere to be found).

“Here,” El stated.

“Yeah, this is where Will lives,” Mike explained, confusion lacing his voice.

“Hiding.”

“No, no, this is where he lives. He’s missing from here. Understand?”

“What are we doing here?” Lucas huffed, letting his bike fall to the ground.

“She said he’s hiding here.”

“Um... No.”

“I swear, if we walked all the way out here for nothing-” Dustin began.

“That’s exactly what we did! I told you she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about!”

Mike sighed and turned to Eleven. “Why did you bring us here?” he asked, only for El to stutter in response.

“Guys, maybe she’s right,” you interjected. “Yesterday, I came over here looking for Jonathan and something... really weird happened. T-The lights were flickering and the radio kept turning on and off and-” You let out a breath. “I saw a face come through the wall.”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“God, are you going crazy too?” Lucas grumbled. “Let’s not waste our time with this.”

“What do you think we should do then?” Mike argued.

“Call the cops, like we should have done yesterday.”

“We are not calling the cops!”

“Hey guys?” Dustin spoke up, too quiet for anyone to notice except for you.

“Guys!” you shouted finally, pointing to the police sirens that were growing closer and closer.

“Will...” Mike voiced, prompting you all to hop on your bikes.

Panic riddled your body as you pedaled as fast as you could to keep up with the ambulances and police cars and firetrucks that were speeding to the scene. You had abandoned your bike as soon as you were within 100 feet of the emergency vehicles, opting instead to sprint the rest of the distance. You and the kids clung to the back of the firetruck, peeking your heads around to see what was going on. 

Bile bubbled in your stomach and up to your throat as you saw them lug a body onto a stretcher and pull it out of the water. That damned red vest stood out so starkly against his pale, dead skin that you could’ve sworn it was a hallucination. God, you wished so badly it was a hallucination.

You could faintly hear the kids talking and the sirens around you wailing, but everything sounded as if you were underwater. Drowning. 

Stumbling away, you let out a silent sob. “I-I... I’ve got to go,” you choked out before spinning on your heel and sprinting down the road that bordered the trail from which you came. Though you were going as fast as your body permitted you to go, you still felt as if you were running through concrete, everything moving in slow motion except for your heart, which was racing a mile a minute. 

You had weaved your way through the trees and back to the Byers’ house, immediately crashing to your knees in the harsh gravel. You lungs begged for air but all you could do was suck in harsh gasps in-between the painful sobs that shook your whole body.

Headlights appeared in your peripheral, and you turned your head to see Jonathan and Joyce pulling up to the house. Behind them was Chief Hopper in his car.

As soon as Jonathan saw you in the yard, he haphazardly parked his car and got out before rushing over to you, immediately dropping to his knees in front of you. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you,

Your arms snaked around his neck as you sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Jonathan. I’m so, so sorry,” you choked out, rambling and apologizing profusely.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Jonathan pulled away slightly, taking your face in his hands and forcing you to look him in the eye. “What’s going on?”

You shook your head slightly before looking over to see Hopper and Joyce walking over to you two. “I think we should all talk. Inside,” Hopper stated gently.

Jonathan nodded and helped you to your feet. You clutched his arm tightly as you all walked into the house, whispering a broken “I’m sorry” one last time.

[schleierkauz]

The Color of Revenge: Chapter 5

Because I’m an insomniac fool and because you’re all beautiful and deserve it, here’s chapter 5 featuring the gang and Reckless references so blatant even I caught them. Enjoy the love, everyone!

Chapter 5: An Engagement in Ombra

They had all come. By the time the church bells signaled noon the house that everyone in Ombra knew only as the Bluejay’s workshop was already full. Resa had even opened her chamber of wonders for the special occasion, a little room right behind Mo’s workshop where she displayed truly wonderful things.

Scales of nymphs and water-sprites that she had collected at the nearby riverbank could be found there, two honeycombs made by fire-elves (a gift from Dustfinger) and a strand of hair taken from a glass woman. Bowls of healing herbs and dried flowers, tree bark that could dye clothes, but also the page with Fenoglio’s handwritten words that had brought Cosimo the Fair back from the dead – and the book that had killed the Adderhead, bound by her husband.

Meggie was sure that any guest who wandered into her mother’s treasure chamber would immediately forget that they had actually come to celebrate the engagement of her daughter.

Resa’s chamber of wonders also contained two of the flying machine models that Doria had built. Meggie’s mother treated him like a second son by now, but Mo made no secret of his disapproval of Meggie’s and Doria’s plan to move out into their own quarters.

“Don’t be angry with him. Fathers don’t like anyone who outranks them in their daughter’s favor,” Resa had whispered to Meggie when Mo had asked her just a few days ago if she wasn’t a bit too young to be engaged.

Too young… Meggie didn’t feel young. Sometimes she felt so old as if she had lived a dozen lives already. She remembered so many Meggies… The one who had lived alone with Mo in the old drafty house, the prisoner in Capricorn’s village, or the Meggie who had crossed worlds and who had been in love with Farid.

They all seemed to have lived their very own lives. Sometimes Meggie imagined them as little figurines standing in one of Resa’s treasure chests. She remembered each one of those Meggies fondly, but she wouldn’t have traded any of them for the version of herself who was by Doria’s side.

The love he filled her heart with was like a coat she felt around her shoulders. A warm blanket in a cold winter night. She had always believed that no one would ever know her better than Mo did. But Doria saw so effortlessly into the most hidden corners of her heart as if he had always lived there. Some she hadn’t even known herself until he showed them to her.

It was easy to fight with him, to laugh or to sit in silence, and every day he surprised Meggie with a new outlandish thought or plan and lured her deeper and deeper into this world with his insatiable curiosity. Sometimes they would borrow Fenoglio’s stubborn horse and ride for days into some faraway village because Doria had heard of a blacksmith who created wings of gold or a cobbler who could sew seven-league-boots.

“Nonsense!“ Fenoglio shouted any time Doria spoke of such wonders. “There is no magic in my-, I mean, in this world!” he corrected when Rosenquartz shot him a warning look.

But there was. Doria found it every day. And so Meggie wanted to spend all her days with him, even though they had both only just turned 18. Even Dante loved Doria. Wasn’t that proof enough that she was choosing the right one?

“Do you need proof, Meggie?“ she asked herself while accepting another engagement gift. She knew exactly why she was asking herself this question. Before Dustfinger had disappeared to join Mo in his workshop, he had mentioned that the Strong Man had told Farid about her engagement to his younger brother.

What if he showed up?

Meggie hadn’t seen Farid since he’d left for Lorraine two years ago, after the jugglers of the Prince told him about the pathetic fire-breathers who performed at those distant courts.

Did love ever really disappear? Or did it leave its seeds like a flower which would bloom anew once she saw him again?

Meggie’s heart gave her the answer an hour later when Farid suddenly appeared next to Elinor. He had a beard and she barely recognized him at first, but then he looked over at her and -

No.

Her heart did not beat any faster. It filled up with warmth, familiarity and loving derision when Farid pushed his shoulder-length hair out of his face – shoulder-length like Dustfinger’s hair.

Meggie was sure that despite all those princesses, Farid still loved his teacher more than any other person. And he was still vain and eager to be loved and admired. He needed that admiration like the air he breathed.

As he stepped towards Meggie he wore the half-mocking half-enticing smile on his lips that she remembered so well. A fiery rose grew in the hand he held out to her. It left a heart of ash on his skin when it disappeared.

“Engaged?“ he whispered in her ear as he kissed her on the cheek. “Have you lost your mind? The same meal for the rest of your life?”

“This meal tastes different every single day,“ she whispered back, but of course Farid didn’t believe that. He would never believe her that she loved anyone more than him. But his eyes were already searching for Dustfinger. The one love he would never betray.

“Dustfinger is with Mo in his workshop,“ Meggie said.

“Ah, good. How is he?“ Farid turned to look at a girl who had pushed herself past them. Lucinda, the daughter of the miller who helped Mo make paper.

“A sheep loses all its skin and its life for just six pages!“ her father had said to her and Resa one day. “I’m tired of working with parchment. I’m going to accelerate progress a little bit – after all, it’s said that there are already paper mills in Spain and farther north.”

“He’s doing very well,“ Meggie said. “The whole city loves him and he has two new students.”

Farid frowned.

“They’re probably not half as good as I am, right?“

He was hopeless.

“Come on,“ he said and took Meggie’s hand. “I have to have a serious talk with your fiancé. He should know the risk he’s taking. If he makes you unhappy just once, I will turn him into the finest gray ash that this and any other world has ever seen.”

He probably would.

 They couldn’t find Doria anywhere and the house was still so full that they barely made it up the stairs. Meggie and Dante had their chambers on the second floor and there was one bigger room that they all called the “living room”, even though the word came from another world. Mo’s and Resa’s books were kept there, very few compared to their collection in the other world. They cost a fortune in this one, but luckily Mo was able to fill the shelves himself.

Doria stood at the window – with a girl. Farid still knew Meggie well enough that he could feel her antipathy towards this girl. Doria bought the wood for his flying machine models from Filippa’s father and she usually brought it to him. Meggie had walked in on them once, just as Filippa had asked Doria why he hadn’t chosen a girl from Ombra instead of a stranger whose past was unknown.

No, she didn’t like Filippa Bafone. The fact that she was considered the most beautiful girl in Ombra didn’t help matters.

“Ah, the bride!“ she exclaimed when she saw Meggie and Farid standing in the door. “I just showed Doria my gift for you two.”

She shot Farid an appraising look and offered Meggie a bracelet. It was beautiful. Black, painted with tiny flowers. Doria held the matching one in his hand. He smiled at Meggie and pulled her at his side, not without a cautious glance towards Farid.

The glance that Filippa gave Farid was an invitation and Farid was happy to accept. But before he followed Ombra’s most beautiful girl, he whispered something to Meggie.

“You shouldn’t wear those bracelets. Witchcraft,” he added when he saw Meggie’s confused face. Then he and Filippa disappeared in the crowd. Meggie stared after him in disbelief but Doria had already pulled his knife and scratched the paint off of his bracelet.

“He’s right,“ he said. “I’ve heard whispers that Filippa doesn’t just rely on her beauty. I should probably feel flattered.“

He took the other bracelet out of Meggie’s hand and threw them both out of the window.

“Witches?“ Meggie looked down at the street where the bracelets rolled across the pavement.

“Oh yes.“ Doria took her hand and touched the ring he had put on her finger that morning.

“Not here. A few years ago the light witches fought so fiercely with the dark ones that they all disappeared. But farther north there’s still a lot of them, even though the priests of the new religions really hate them. Here in Ombra there are two merchants who sell their items. They say it’s only light magic but everyone knows that’s a lie.”

Witches… Meggie shivered. They were something that belonged only in storybooks. She laughed at herself a moment later – she lived in a book! At least Fenoglio still liked to see it that way. Did he know anything about witches in this world?

“Eastwards there’s said to be a country where princes ride silver dragons,“ Doria whispered to her. “The women in Lorraine turn into foxes. And up in Prussia, an uncle of mine saw people who have skin made of stone. This world is way bigger than just Ombra, Meggie.”

“I know,“ she replied – but what did she know? In all those years during which Fenoglio’s world had become her home (yes, she admitted, she still called it that), she had barely travelled 50 miles from Ombra. Travelling was arduous and she was so happy here in the city! Doria was here, and Dante and Mo and Resa, Elinor and Darius, Dustfinger, Roxane, Brianna and Jehan. What else did she need?

“Do you know what the Black Prince likes to say?“ Doria fed her one of the tiny cakes that Rosenquartz had bought for them from a bakery that specialized in such delicacies made for glass men.

“‘If you try to hide away from the world, it will come to find you one day.‘ I’ve told you so many times: We should travel! Samarkand, Constantinople, Edo – doesn’t that all sound wonderful?”

He started spinning with Meggie. The guests made room and clapped in time with the beat. Two more couples started dancing and Meggie forgot about witches and Filippa’s bracelets. Yes, they would travel! It was time to explore this world outside of books. She twirled in Doria’s arms and couldn’t tell what made her dizzier: Being in love or dancing.

(Next chapter)

[amazingmsme]

Geralt’s Clotpoles

AN: This was a collab I did with @im-absolutelee-ticklish​ & we had a blast writing this! Hope you all enjoy this! & the song Jaskier sings is to the tune of The Farmer in the Dell. Now on with the fic!

They had been traveling for quite a while between missions, spending more downtime camping in the woods and training Ciri to use her abilities. Geralt was pleasantly surprised when Jaskier and Ciri became quick friends, though he figured he shouldn’t be too shocked. Jaskier was friendly and likable, bringing joy wherever he went. And Ciri was a kind and curious soul, eager to learn and help where she could. He was happy that they got along so well and took comfort in knowing it was one less thing he needed to worry about. But like everything, it came with a downside. 

It was a nice day. The sun was shining and the day was warm, but not too hot. And there was this noise, this incessant chattering that buzzed like a fly in his ear. Ciri and Jaskier had not stopped talking since they had left the camp earlier that day. Geralt had chosen to ignore it most of the time. As the day wore on it became more and more difficult. They weren’t even talking about anything interesting. First, it had been gossip about people they apparently despised, then they had moved on to singing. Jaskier was teaching Ciri different singing techniques and they didn’t always make her sound as sweet as she was. Besides, he didn’t need two singer/songwriters in their party of three. The bard was plenty enough. Fortunately he was able to tune them out for a while. That was until he heard something that made his ears twitch. 

They were talking quietly enough to where most of the conversation was mumbled vowels and consonants, but he was able to decipher a few words. One of those words being his own name. He strained to hear what they were saying, but even with his enhanced hearing, it was near impossible. He turned to look over his shoulder, watching Jaskier lean down to whisper something in Ciri’s ear, cupping a hand over his mouth. Whatever he said made her giggle, and they both cut their eyes his way. He quickly turned his head forward like he had just made a glance back and not as if he was staring at them. This caused them to both let out a few giggles as they went back to whispering. Finally, Geralt had had enough. 

“We’re stopping here.” He said in his usual gruffness. Ciri and Jaskier stopped and went silent just staring at him.

“In the middle of the road?” Jaskier asked. Geralt only gave an annoyed grunt in response, leading Roach off the path. They stood on the road just watching Geralt for a while before a grin started to appear on Jaskier’s face. As he followed the witcher he began to sing one of those silly little songs he had come up with earlier that day. 

“O’ the witcher is a dad, the witcher is a dad.

Geralt’s now a father,

With his daughter of surprise!” The song was peppy and catchy, and he swayed from side to side as he strummed. Ciri followed close behind giggling and clapping in time with the song. 

“That one is a fun one, don’t you think so daddy?” Ciri playfully teased running up and hugging the back of his leg. Geralt smirked down at her from where he sat atop Roach. He used his boot to gently nudge her away. 

“No. It’s flat.” Jaskier gasped.

“I’m flat? I’m … Now when have I ever been flat?” 

Geralt found himself smirking even more, an uncharacteristic streak of mischief rearing its head. “Since the day we met.” Now it was Ciri's turn to gasp as she backed up and looked between Jaskier and Geralt. Jaskier stood, mouth agape; he was trying to figure out if he had heard correctly.

"What?"

"You heard me." 

Jaskier’s mouth hung open, his hands on his hips. “You have some nerve!” 

"I do? Well, I guess that makes sense with hunting monsters and all." Jaskier crossed his arms with a huff, stomping off to stand near Ciri. 

“Smart ass,” he mumbled. Ciri gave him a sympathetic look, patting his arm. 

“There there, your voice is very lovely,” she comforted. Geralt started to grin, he just couldn’t help himself. 

“Now don’t go giving him false hope Ciri, that does nothing for him. Only makes it harder in the long run.” He got off Roach and started setting up what would be their camp for the night. 

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just grumpy because you have the voice of an angel and he can’t sing even one note in tune with a cricket. Let alone put together enough words to form a sentence.” Ciri continued to comfort Jaskier as she turned and scowled at Geralt, sticking her tongue out at him. He just so happened to turn around just then, and she immediately stuck her tongue back in her mouth and turned back around. 

“Hey Ciri,” he called, gaining her attention. She whipped around to look at him, her hair fanning out with the motion. He stuck his tongue out at her in retaliation. She couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Real mature.” He shrugged, going back to work as he spoke.

 “What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me.” Ciri rolled her eyes and turned her attention back on the sulking bard. 

“Hey Jasky, don’t be sad.” She paused for a moment trying to think of something to cheer her friend up. “Let’s race to see who can find the prettiest rock.” Jaskier couldn’t help the smile that was playing on his lips. Ciri was just too sweet and adorable. 

“Okay pumpkin.” He wrapped an arm around her. “Ready?” 

“Ready!” she exclaimed. Jaskier was sitting on his knees, ready to bolt. 

“Go!” They set off in search of suitable rocks for their playful competition. Geralt just rolled his eyes and started putting together what would be their meal. In a few minutes both of them had collected a good handful of rocks, they sat down beside each other and started sifting through what they had. All of a sudden out of the corner of her eye Ciri saw a shimmering rock in Jaskier’s pile. He hadn’t quite sorted that far. Sneakily Ciri reached over and grabbed the rock, placing it in her pile. A short while later he had finished sorting his rocks, looking at the ground in confusion. He swept his hands in the grass, feeling all around in search of his last rock. 

“I could’ve sworn I had another one,” he wondered aloud. His eyes landed on the shimmering rock that he definitely remembered picking up. “Ciri. What are you doing with my rock?” He leaned over to grab it but Ciri snatched it up first. 

“It’s in my pile! What are you trying to do with my rock?”

“Ciri, c’mon. You know it’s mine, give it back.” He said growling at her playfully. She held the rock close to her chest.

 “No, it’s mine,” she insisted.

“Ciri…” Jaskier warned. 

“No!” she squealed starting to stand up. Jaskier grabbed at her arms quickly pulling her onto him as they fell back. His hands found her sides and he started squeezing them lightly and quickly. A loud shriek pierced through the air followed by bubbly giggles. She thrashed in his hold, batting at his hands weakly. She was curled in a tight ball and Jaskier’s skilled fingers wormed their way underneath her arms. Geralt had finished setting up and preparing their food, he sat there watching them. 

“Are you going to give me my rock back?” he asked in a teasing voice. She shook her head, mouth hanging open, her laughter free flowing. “No? Well I guess you just want to get tickled to death,” he said casually. He formed his hand into a claw, hovering it over her belly. 

“NOOO!” she screamed, rolling slightly in the grass trying to get away. “Geralt! Help me!” Geralt smiled at her from where he was. 

“Why should I help you? Didn’t you cheat? And steal? And lie?” There was a playful edge to his voice. He got up and walked toward them. Once reaching them he stood there thinking. “Hmmmm." He grunted. Then a smirk appeared on his lips, looking down and with a teasy voice. "Okay, I’ll help you.” 

“What?!” Jaskier exclaimed. Geralt ignored him and he reached down grabbing her under the arms gently. Using his thumbs he wiggled them in her armpits. She squealed and tried to get out of his grip. 

“This is what happens to little girls who get caught.” Geralt teased. Jaskier grinned and came up in front of the squealing girl. He looked up at her as he lifted her shirt, giving her a wink before blowing a huge raspberry right in the middle of her tummy. She had no choice but to lay there and take it. Her legs kicked out and she tossed her head from side to side. 

“Maybe you’ll think twice before cheating,” Jaskier said. He reached up, wiggling a few fingers under her chin. She slammed her head down, trapping his fingers while she bit her tongue to try and suppress her giggles. Geralt reached down, squeezing her hips causing her to buck and double over in hysterics. 

“Okay!” She shrieked in laughter. “I’ve lehehearned!” Jaskier looked up at Ciri, then Geralt. He waved at Geralt to stop and give her a breather. 

“Hmmmm, I don’t think you’ve learned quite yet. Just one last thing and then I know for sure you’ll have learned.” He grinned. Ciri caught her breath as she tried to glare at Jaskier. 

“Nohoho mohohore,” she pleaded. Jaskier grinned at her and bopped her nose, making her scrunch up her face adorably. 

“Only one last thing, whiny! You can handle that, can’t you?” he teased, knowing her sense of pride would outweigh the need for it to stop. She shrugged as she caught her breath, “I mean I guess-“ Jaskier giggled with glee. 

“Alright. Close your eyes.” Ciri frowned and stuck her tongue out at Jaskier before doing so. Jaskier started a countdown knowing that would really get to her. “Fiiiiiiiive, Fooooour.”

“Noohooooo, doohooon’t” Both Jaskier and Geralt grinned. Geralt put his arms around her, hugging her close to him to keep her from squirming and to hold her close, to let her know he had her. 

“Threeeeeee, twoooooooo.” Jaskier’s hands found Ciri’s thighs and started squeezing like mad. Her reaction was immediate, a loud shrill screech echoing through the air. Her legs drummed on the ground and she smacked a hand on Geralt’s knee. A bright blush made its way on her face as her mouth hung open in frantic laughter that soon became silent. After a moment of her silent laughing Geralt told Jaskier to back off. 

“She’s had enough.” Jaskier gave one last squeeze before letting go. He ruffled his hand in her hair affectionately. It didn’t take long for Ciri’s laughs to come back and she slowed down to giggling between breaths. 

“You’re a meanie Jasky.” 

“Next time don’t cheat and this doesn’t have to happen.” He grinned and winked. Fluttering his fingers in her neck as he passed by moving toward the little campsite. “Mmmmmm, this smells good, what are we eating tonight?” Ciri squealed and scrunched her neck as Geralt slowly released her from his hold making sure she wouldn’t fall over. Then he turned around, taking Ciri’s hand they walked and took a seat around the fire. 

Jaskier had a smug look as he sat on a log and grabbed his lute. He idly plucked at the strings and hummed the tune from earlier. Ciri glared at him playfully from where she sat next to Geralt. He shot her a wink in return. When Geralt rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, Jaskier used his other eye to wink at him. 

“Hmm.” At that, he winked again, this time much more exaggerated and opened his mouth, making it very obvious what he was doing. Geralt tilted his head, “You’re being a real clotpole.” 

Jaskier chuckled, “Why thank you for the heartfelt compliment.” Geralt growled in response. 

"You know that wasn't a compliment." Jaskier winked back and had a smug grin on his face. It was then that Ciri had an idea and she leaned over and whispered into Geralt's ear. Jaskier could see as Ciri was talking a grin started to appear on the witcher's face. He was starting to get a little nervous now. Even more so as they both looked at him with smug grins and eyes that looked like they were going to eat him for dinner. Jaskier cleared his throat nervously and gave them a small smile. 

"Well this sure looks good. You've really outdone yourself this time Geralt!" He chuckled nervously. "Should we eat?" 

"Yes, we should." That time Geralt made very clear that he was not talking about the food he had prepared. Rather a lanky, annoying bard would be on the menu tonight. 

“Right. Uh, I’ll get us some dishes,” he said, keeping an eye on them as he grabbed some discs and cutlery from Roach’s saddle bag. They all helped themselves to the food and ate in mostly silence. Every once in a while Jaskier would see Ciri lean over and whisper in Geralt’s ear, making a sly smirk appear on his face as he glanced over at him. Or Geralt would lean down to tell her something that made her grin from ear to ear. Frankly, it put the bard on edge. Jaskier was finishing his food quite quickly. But it seemed like the other two were taking their sweet time. In the meantime Jaskier tried to work on a song but his nerves were getting the better of him and he wasn't able to focus properly. This did not go unnoticed by the others. 

Ciri tilted her head, a sweet smile plastered on her face with something sinister hiding underneath. “What’s wrong Jaskier? You seem… nervous.” He let out a string of chuckles to mask his growing fear and anticipation. 

“What? Me? I’m not nervous.” Geralt raised a brow and glanced at his leg, which was bouncing up and down rapidly. “I’m just trying to figure out the tempo for this song,” he said, pulling an excuse out of his ass. 

Geralt hummed, “Fast song.” Jaskier nodded, lips pressed together thinly. 

“Mhm. Very energetic.” He nodded as he spoke, as if to convince himself of the lie. 

“What’s the song about?” Ciri asked, scooting closer to the edge of the log. Jaskier’s mouth hung open in thought, head tilted back and eyes squinting slightly. 

“Not sure yet. Just working on the beat.” By now both Geralt and Ciri had finished eating and set their discs aside. Jaskier was quick to find something else to busy himself. He knew they were planning something, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was. “Why don’t I wash these up?” He didn’t wait for an answer, jumping up and gathering the discs to clean them in the nearby river. 

Ciri looked at Geralt, clearly amused and trying to suppress her laughter. “You think he knows?”

“Now what possibly gave you that idea?” Geralt joked. 

"Oh I don't know. Just look at him!" She was talking loud enough for him to hear. "He's all jumpy, and blushy and when does he ever want to do the dishes or help out?" she teased. Jaskier dropped the disc he was washing.

“Hey now, I do the dishes all the time!” he yelled over his shoulder. 

"Is that why we always need to get new ones? Because you get too flustered and you drop them all so they either break or get lost?" Geralt teased evilly. Jaskier flushed pink and turned his back to them, focusing on cleaning the unbroken dishes. He grumbled to himself, mocking his tone of voice. Pleased with his work, he stood to his feet, spinning on his heels. He gasped when he was face to face with Geralt and stumbled back, losing his balance on the river bank. Geralt reached out and grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him back to safety. Jaskier couldn’t help but notice just how close he was pressed against Geralt’s chest and felt his mouth go dry. 

“Mhm- uh, th-thanks for that,” he said, patting a hand on his chest a bit awkwardly. He tried to walk away, and frowned when Geralt still had a grip on his shirt. "Uhh, Geralt? You can let go of me now. I'm not in danger of falling in anymore." He chuckled nervously and tried to walk again. 

"Just where do you think you're off to?" Geralt asked gruffly and with a sly smirk on his face that made Jaskier gulp and squirm where he stood. 

“Yeah,” Ciri piped up, suddenly at his side, “Did you think we’d let you go after earlier?” Jaskier was smiling nervously now as he looked down at her. 

“Well a man can hope, can’t he? Besides, that’s in the past now,” he tried to reason. Ciri looked at Geralt who raised an eyebrow. 

"Hmmmm, let me …" Ciri started as Geralt looked at her and started to slowly release him. A spark of hope hit Jaskier as he felt the grip loosening. Then "NOPE!" and Geralt had him pinned on his back with his arms over his head in a few seconds flat. Jaskier didn't even know what hit him. He stared at them wildly before he burst into giggles as Ciri was clawing at his torso. 

“Nohohoho! I’m sohohorry!” he yelled, unable to hold in his laughter. He kicked his legs out and rolled back and forth in the grass, but nothing alleviated the sensations. 

“Aw that’s nice, but I’m not looking for an apology,” Ciri said as her fingers climbed up his ribs. Jaskier's laugh got a little squeakier as her fingers continued to climb. 

"Ciri! Pleeheeeease!" Ciri looked up at Geralt, her fingers scratching just underneath the ticklish bard’s armpits. 

"You hear that Geralt? He's asking nicely for you to help me!" 

“I AM NOT!” he all but screamed. Geralt knew all of his worst spots and was completely merciless. Ciri tickling him was driving him mad, but if he joined, Jaskier knew he’d die. Geralt tilted his head in thought. 

“Hmm. I don’t know, I think I have to side with Ciri on this,” he said. Switching his grip to one hand, he used his other to scratch his blunt nails along Jaskier’s neck. He squealed and scrunched up like a turtle, trying to protect himself. Ciri who had now moved her fingers into his armpits, grinned and giggled. 

"Awwww, is this too tickly Jasky? Maybe next time you shouldn't be so mean." She teased, using his tone and similar words from earlier. "Maybe next time you'll learn." Jaskier was laughing too hard to respond. She moved to his stomach, poking all around his belly rapidly, not giving him the chance to get used to the feeling. 

His laughter jumped an octave, becoming higher pitched and breathier as he tried to dislodge her attacks. Between every few giggles, his entire body would jolt with a hiccup. The jittery, jumpy sounds leaving his mouth made Ciri beam down at him as her fingers continued their onslaught. 

“Awww that’s so cute!” Upon hearing the compliment, Jaskier flushed a deep shade of pink. Ciri met Geralt’s eyes, “Isn't it cute?” she asked rhetorically. 

Geralt looked away, “Mm.” A man of few words, as always. Ciri giggled with her tongue between her teeth. Her fingers continued their journey across his torso, slowly moving closer to his hips. 

“Fuck! No Ciri please! Nohohot thehehere, Geralt doho something!” 

Geralt moved his hands down to Jaskier's lower ribs effectively holding him down with his knees while massaging his fingers into them. He nodded at Ciri to go for it. Ciri giggles before diving in her little thumbs, drilling into those sensitive hip bones making Jaskier scream.

“Shihihit!” He bucked wildly, but was unable to get away or lessen the sensations. His legs drummed on the ground, managing to dig little ruts into the soft earth. 

"Wow, he certainly is ticklish. Aren't you Jasky? Have you had enough? Or do you need more before you've learned your lesson?" Her fingers didn't lift up for even a milisecond. She had the biggest grin on her face. Looking up she saw that Geralt was enjoying this just as much. She loved it when they were all happy and having fun. 

Jaskier was quick to answer between laughs. “Yes, yes, I hahaha, Ihi’ve learned okay? Quihihihit!” Geralt finally showed mercy and let him go. Jaskier immediately curled in on himself, falling to his side as he batted Ciri’s lingering hands away. Ciri giggled and put in a few final pokes and squeezes before stopping and allowing him to calm down. Once Jaskier had regained his composure and started to sit up he tried to glare at the pair. Ciri threw herself into him, hugging him tightly. 

Jaskier couldn't help but to return the hug. “I swear you two are just trying to kill me,” he muttered into her hair. When she giggled at him, he pinched her cheek. “I mean it. You’re lucky I’m still here,” he teased, fixing Geralt with a hard but playful glare from over the princess’s shoulder. Geralt rolled his eyes. 

“Always so dramatic. You’ll be fine, I assure you.”

"Pardon me if I don't take a witcher's assurance of being fine seriously." Geralt raised an eyebrow and a hand with wiggling fingers in response. Jaskier squeaked and hid behind Ciri as much as he could as Geralt chuckled and sent him a wink. Ciri rubbed his back gently to try to help him relax. 

"It's okay Jasky. I'll keep you safe." She grinned and let out a yawn. 

"Ahhh, I think it's bedtime." Jaskier sang softly. Turning her in his arms so she was laying in them like a baby. He started to sing a soft lullaby to her. She snuggled closer to his body, able to hear his still slightly rapid heartbeat begin to slow. A hand softly ran through her hair, and she closed her eyes with a smile. The gentle vibration that echoed through his chest added an extra comfort that helped lull her to sleep. Jaskier glanced up as he sang and caught Geralt staring at them fondly. Something akin to love burned in his golden irises. Jaskier smiled sweetly as he finished his song. Leaning back against a tree he too closed his eyes and hummed himself to sleep.

Geralt watched as they slept soundly and he smiled as he thought about the day they had had. Yes, they had been annoying and had gotten on his nerves. But there had been laughter and fun as well. He would rather have all the frustration of having them around if he got to hear their beautiful laughs, see their beaming smiles, and feel the love and care they had for each other and for him. Yes, they were both clotpoles. But they were his clotpoles. And that was more than he could ever ask for.

[amayawolfe]

Bubblegum Blood Prologue Pt. 2 - A Glimpse of Darkness

My Stories Masterlist  

Word Count: 2551

Summary: During some downtime before the sides shows, Abaki receives some unwanted attention from a fellow trainee she was hoping to avoid. When Hisoka steps in to help out, she sees a side of him she had never hoped to see again.

Warnings: harassment, mild angst, drama, mild homophobia, attempted violence

Hisoka

   The sun had nearly set by the time the circus troupe had everything prepped and ready for tomorrow's departure. The entirety of the troupe was settled into an inn that was accustomed to taking in large groups of people who would come in with the ships. Located near the docks, the inn had numerous rooms ranging in sizes to suit the needs of a single person or a large group.

   The majority of the troupe were in the massive common area. Numerous tables and chairs were occupied causing the large room to become noisy with many boisterous conversations.

   Hisoka had taken up a quieter spot in an out of the way corner of the room. With his elbows set upon the table he rested his chin atop his slender hands and surveyed the crowd, a barely touched plate of food next to him. He was enjoying the relative piece when a sharp movement caught his sharp eye. It was Abaki.

   The motion had been her retching her hand away from the tall, lanky boy that was practically on top of her. The short, oily, dark brown hair combined with the outfit of a fire-breather trainee made Jasper instantly recognizable to Hisoka. A frown formed on his mouth as he watched the two carefully.

   Even though he couldn't hear what the two were saying, Hisoka could see that Abaki was clearly agitated. It seemed that Jasper was up to his antics again. He kept reaching over and touching her only to have his hands slapped away quickly. A swift glance around the room and Hisoka could see that everyone else was heavily preoccupied with their own meals and conversations. No one seemed to be aware of what was unfolding. That, or anyone that did notice didn't care enough to do or say anything about it.

   Hisoka's golden amber eyes became dark as he slowly picked up the dinner knife sitting next to his plate. He carefully held the knife out of view as he returned to his resting position and waited, watching his friend and her assailant carefully.

*        *        *         *        *         *         *         *         *         *         * 

Abaki

   "Come on, Abaki," Jasper persisted, reaching out a hand to stroke the side of her face, "there's no reason you can't join me after the sideshows tonight."    Abaki sneered at the scent of flame propellant oil lingering on Jasper's fingers and slapped the hand away again.

   "I do have a good reason. A very simple reason. I. Don't. Want. To. Besides," she huffed, "I've already told you countless times that you're not my type."

   The smile fell from Jasper's face and was replaced with a scowl.

   "Do you honestly think I am dumb enough to believe you're into girls when you hang out with that red headed weirdo all the time?" he snarled. He reached his hand towards her once more and began to step forward when a sudden object whipped passed between Jasper and Abaki, embedding into the wooden post they were standing next to with a loud thunk.

   The two of them turned and saw that it was a dinner knife. It had been thrown so hard the knife's blade was lodged nearly half way into the solid wood. Anger flickered across Jasper's face and he whipped around to see who could have possibly thrown the knife.

   "Who threw that?!" he demanded loudly. A few people looked up yet paid him little heed. His eyes scanned faces for a suspect. Jasper's hands balled into tight fists upon seeing Hisoka sitting alone in the corner eating his dinner.

   "You!" Abaki's heart jumped into her throat as he shouted at the red haired boy and stormed up to him. "Did you throw that?"

   Hisoka didn't answer or even acknowledge the hot tempered young man, he simply continued staring down at his plate as he chewed what was in his mouth. Jasper slammed his fist down on the table causing Hisoka's plate and glass to jump.

   "Leave him alone, Jasper!" Abaki shouted and attempted to pull the arm used to slam the table back. The boy ignored her, yanking his arm from her grasp he glared down at her young friend.

   "Hey! I'm talking to you!"

   "Hmmm?~ ♣" Hisoka casually looked up at Jasper.

   "Pay attention when I'm talking to you, weirdo!" he spatt then pointed over to the embedded knife. "Did you just throw that knife at me?"

   Completely unphased by Jasper's attitude, Hisoka finishes what's in his mouth at his own pace. He looks from the trainee over to the knife and back.

   "No, I did not throw that knife at you, ♠" he replied coolly.

   A snarl curled Jasper's lips and he grabbed Hisoka by the front of his shirt.

   "Liar! If you didn't throw that knife at me then where is your knife you cut your food with, huh?"

   Hisoka smirked and opened his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by another voice cutting in.

   "Vaht is going on here!" Magikana was at the scene within a few strides of her long legs. Jasper instantly released Hisoka's shirt and threw his hands up defensively, wincing at the fierce expression the magician glared down at him.

   "Hisoka tried to attack me!" Jasper quickly accused and pointed over to the dinner knife, "He threw that knife at me!"

   "He said he didn't do it!" Abaki defended, shoving Jasper aside, glaring at him angrily.

   Magikana scowled as her gaze moved from Jasper, to the knife, back to Jasper, to Abaki, then finally landed on Hisoka. She and Hisoka locked eyes for a moment as she paused in thought.

   "Vell, little one? Did you throw knife at Jasper?"

   "No mam, I did not throw a knife at Jasper, ♣" Hisoka answered calmly while retaining eye contact. An eyebrow slowly arched upwards on Magikana's forehead and the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. She watched Hisoka for a moment longer before turning back to Jasper.

   "There, you see? Hisoka did not throw knife at you. You can go and leave him and Abaki alone now."

   Jasper's jaw dropped in disbelief as he looked back and forth between the magician and her trainee. After a minute anger flared in his eyes and a snarl curled his lips.

   "This isn't over," he said in a low, menacing tone. Before leaving, he looked back over his shoulder at Abaki, glowered at her, then turned and stormed off.

   Abaki shuddered and released a breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. Magikana grimaced and nodded as if agreeing to some unspoken statement from Abaki.

   "Zat one is trouble," she muttered, "is best to keep eye out for him."

   "Tell me about it," Abaki shuddered again and rubbed her arms as though she were chilled. "He just doesn't stop..."    "Perhaps you should speak to Drake?" Magikana proposed, "Is Jasper's trainer, yes?"

   "It won't help," Hisoka interjected with a shake of his head, "Drake is worse. He actually encourages Jasper's behavior telling him Abaki is just playing hard to get. ♠"

   A dark look now harbored in Hisoka's eyes. He shoved his cold food aside and rested his folded arms on the table, looking in the direction Jasper had gone before he continued.

   "I almost wish I had hit him with the knife, it would have been one less thing to worry about.~♢"    "Wait!" Abaki's head whipped around to her friend, "Are you saying you did throw that knife at him?!"

   "No,~" Hisoka smirked, "I threw the knife at the very pole it's now stuck in, not at Jasper. Although, had he taken a larger step towards you when I threw it...~ ♢"    Hisoka's words trailed off, leaving the rest to Abaki and Magikana's imagination. The two ladies exchanged glances before Abaki hugged herself tightly and gave the magician's trainee a concerned look.

   "That's not funny Hisoka," she said sternly, "Jasper is an awful jerk but he doesn't deserve to die."

   "Abaki is right," Magikana scolded, "Killing is no joke. Should only do so if there is no other choice."

   Hisoka's eyes moved back and forth between his friend and trainer. There was an uncomfortable silence when he suddenly cracked a huge grin and waved a hand dismissively in the air.

   "Of course I wasn't serious,~" he laughed lightly, "I would never wish any harm on a fellow troupe member. ♣"

   "But still," he dropped his hand back down to the table and looked up at Magikana, "something about the matter should be done, wouldn't you agree? ♠"    The magician's face was still stern but she nodded in agreement.

   "I vill speak vith Tonio about this." She then pointed a long boney finger at her trainee, "In meantime, you must eat and get ready for show! Meet me by docks in vun hour."

   "As you wish, sensei,~ ♣" Hisoka said, looking up at Magikana with a friendly smile. She held his gaze for a few more seconds before she turned on her heels and went up a flight of stairs that led to the rooms.

   Abaki hugged herself a little tighter as she continued staring at her redheaded friend. The smile was still on his face, yet there was something off about it. It seemed a little too friendly, and it didn't reach the amber eyes that now seemed to smolder with a deep, seething anger.

    She had heard others whisper amongst themselves how they picked up on a darkness from Hisoka. That something just wasn't right about him. Even after Morintonio explained to her that he was simply a lonely boy that was down on his luck and that she should friend him, she hesitated. Abaki had always been one to eagerly friend new people, but with Hisoka she was cautious.

   At least at first.

   Abaki had been the one assigned to care for Hisoka after he was found severely injured and on death's doorstep. Even though he seemed so sad and lonely, there was also a darkness in his eyes and his aura. But as time went on and the more her and Hisoka became friends, the less she saw or felt this darkness. He had seemed to become more stable.

   That is, except for moments like this. Moments where Abaki was clearly reminded why she had been cautious in the first place; as well as to why people tend to stay away from him.

   "It really is rude to stare like that, Abaki. I honestly do not like it. ♠" Hisoka's voice had dropped an octave giving it a more threatening demeanor. He hadn't moved a single muscle as he spoke, minus his smile melting away into a slight scowl. Only shifting his eyes towards her, they held a hellish, predatory glow to them.    "Oh! I'm sorry, I- uh," she squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a quick shake in attempts to straighten out her thoughts. Upon opening her eyes again she had to blink a few times in confusion. It was almost like she was looking at another person.

   The hellfire had left Hisoka's eyes and now seemed to hold a look of concern. His head was titled to the side and there was a faint smile now on his lips. He didn't seem very threatening at all now, all the darkness and anger had simply vanished from her redhead friend.

   Did- ... Did I just imagine it?

   "Eh..?" she hesitated, then flashed a warm, friendly smile to him, "Sorry about that, I was just worried. Are you okay?"

   "Of course I'm okay, silly,~ ♡" he pointed a slender finger at his friend and twirled it in the air a little, "I should be the one asking that question. After all, that creep was messing with you more so than me. ♠"

   "Yeah, I'm fine," Abaki assured Hisoka then shrugged. "As much as I hate to say this, I'm pretty much used to it now. Hopefully once Kana talks to the boss something can actually be done about it."

   "Yes, well, hopefully that something can be done before he goes too far.~ ♣"

   Abaki cringed and shivered a little at Hisoka's dark words. She hugged herself a little again.

   "Do you really think Jasper will do that?"

   "Who knows," the magician trainee replied with a shrug. "I've just noticed his attempts have been getting more and more... desperate.~ ♠"

   He was right. Abaki had noticed what Hisoka was talking about. Jasper's attempts to get her to go out with him were becoming more and more intense. She looked over to where Jasper now stood talking with his trainer, Drake, and a few other fire performers. Among them was a girl Abaki's age, Camilla.

   Camilla must have felt Abaki's eyes on her because she suddenly looked up and over at her. She gave Abaki a small smile and waved. Blushing, Abaki smiled and shyly started waving back. Jasper noticed her movements, looked to see what she was doing then followed her gaze. He snarled and shielded his sister from Abaki's view.

   She instantly stopped waving and pulled her hand to her chest. Camilla reached up and jerked her brother's arm, saying something to him in the process. A look of disgust came across Jasper's face as he turned to face his sister. It looked like they were now arguing about something.

   A pained look spread across Abaki's face. She hadn't meant to get Camilla in trouble with her brother. She felt tears start to prick her eyes and she furiously scrubbed them with the back of her hand.

   "I should get ready for tonight," she looked back at Hisoka who was still watching her. Her eyes fell to Hisoka's barely touched food and added, "You should finish your dinner. You hardly ever eat! Aren't boys your age supposed to, I don't know, be a bottomless pit or something?"

   Hisoka smirked, "So I've heard. I guess I just don't have an appetite tonight. ♣"

   "Yeah, well, you should eat, Hiso, you need the energy for the show." Abaki was aware that her voice sounded how she felt, down and emotionally strained. "And don't forget we're to practice our nen training after the show tonight."

   Hisoka simply nodded yet said nothing more. Abaki sighed, she could tell that her friend was done talking for the time being. So she gave Hisoka a wave and told him she would see him later before turning and heading up the same stairs Magikana had ascended earlier. She made sure to walk quickly and not look at anyone at the fire performers table as she hurried by.

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Previous Chapter: Prologue Pt.1 - A Circus On The Move

Next Chapter: Bubblegum Blood Prologue Pt.3 - The Show Must Go On!

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Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, if you did, please be sure to slap that heart note!