#i love you for sending me questions and you're all so smart and thoughtful so i want to give you smart and thoughtful responses but i'm

[gurugirl]

Sex Tutor

Summary: Harry's got a reputation on campus and you're curious to know if he can help you.

A/N: Requested! Thank y'all for being patient with me! Hope you enjoy! This will be 2 parts!!

Word Count: 10k

Warning: smut (oral sex), fluff, praise kink

. . .

“Yeah… that was good. I liked it.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get. You thought Gunther would be a lot more enthusiastic after coming in your mouth and you swallowing him down. You gave it your best work. You even choked a couple of times and you did hear him moan once or twice. But that didn’t feel like enough

You wanted to ask him exactly what went wrong. Tips on what he liked and didn’t. What you could do better next time… But instead, he just smiled and kissed your cheek, avoiding your mouth because obviously kissing the lips that had just sucked his cock would be gross.

So you left his dorm feeling a little disappointed in yourself. Annoyed really. You wished you were more bold and could just ask him what he wanted, what he liked most. You complained to your roommate even. She loved giving advice so you were always venting to her.

“Well, you know there’s like this guy on campus who will walk you through that kind of thing… a sex tutor if you will. Let’s just say that he comes highly recommended. I know someone who hung out with him a few times, and she learned so much about her body and how good sex could feel without coming but he always made her come every time, and no man has ever done that to her before she told me.”

“A tutor for blow jobs?” You scrunched your face and giggled.

“Well, blow jobs and everything else really. I don’t know. He gets around and they say he’s very knowledgeable about the body and sex. I think he’s like getting his masters in sexual health or something?”

You shoved at her shoulder and laughed, “Oh my god I don’t think so. That sounds crazy. He’s probably some weird pervert or something.”

Your roommate turned her cellphone screen to face you, showing you an Instagram page with a photo of a very attractive young man you’d seen on campus a time or two.

“That’s him?” Your eyes widened as you looked from the photo to your roommate.

“Yup. He’s not a weirdo either. I hear he’s super respectful and smart. Plus the bonus is that he looks like this.”

You nodded. That certainly was a bonus. Harry Styles. You knew about him from the student council. He did a lot of volunteering on campus and he was a graduate student so you didn’t know him all that well, being only a sophomore yourself, but it was hard not to at least know the name and the face. He was popular. Clearly far more popular than you even realized.

And you definitely weren’t going to reach out for a “session”. That just felt silly. Though, you couldn’t say you weren’t intrigued by the idea, it just wasn’t for you. Except that when Gunther didn’t text or call you back for three full days, the whole time you wondered if your blow job was that bad. So when he did finally text you back to make plans for the following week, you felt like you were being given another chance to prove how good you could be. And maybe a lesson or two could be useful.

Reaching out to him via DMs on Instagram felt so unserious but you still did it. You cringed as you hit send and read over your message three times.

Hi! I heard you give special “tutoring” sessions and wanted to know if you have some time to meet with me to set something up? Let me know if it’s okay.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this, reaching out to a stranger for, basically, a booty call. But apparently he was used to it and had no qualms about responding to you in less than thirty minutes. As if he was running some kind of business.

Hi! Happy to meet up with you either tonight or Friday night. The initial meeting should only take like 20 minutes, somewhere public so you feel comfortable. I’ll ask you a few questions and then we’ll set up a private one-on-one session together if it makes sense for both of us. No pressure ever. Whenever you’re ready.

Private one-on-one session. You rolled your eyes as you read over Harry’s response.

Tonight is good for me if you can fit me in. Whatever time you want.

You didn’t know what to expect. You imagined he was cocky since he was apparently so good and sought after. Perhaps he would take one look at you and turn around. You were sure he had a say in who he “tutored”. Doubted he took on every single person who reached out to him.

Your roommate said he was respectful but you would place money on the fact that he was probably full of himself, being that he was a self-proclaimed Sex Guru. You were preparing yourself for someone with a larger-than-life personality.

You kept your outfit casual, not wanting to look like you were trying too hard. Jeans and a hoodie. Though you did shower and put on nice panties and made sure you smelled good. Just in case. One never knows when they are due to visit with a sex tutor.

Maud’s was one of your favorite spots on campus. They had the best iced matcha latte and that’s just what you ordered yourself when you arrived. You sat down at a small table and faced toward the door so you could keep an eye out.

You were looking down at your cell phone when you heard the chime of the door. Flitting your eyes up and away from the screen of your phone you scanned the entry and spotted him right away.

He was wearing a black pullover hoodie and jeans. His hair all tousled like he’d just finished a “tutoring” session. You raised your hand to wave at him and catch his attention and he grinned as you stood up but he gestured for you to stay seated, “I’ll be right back. Just gonna order a drink.”

You were already feeling hot and embarrassed. God, what were you doing? The man was sex on legs and that deep, raspy voice he just spoke to you with had your insides twisting and turning all mushy.

When he returned he had an iced tea and he sat across from you. The smile on his face was kind. Open. It set you at ease a bit.

He took a sip through his straw and you noted the rings on his fingers and the nail polish on his nails, “So, Y/n. It’s nice to meet you in person. What are you majoring in?”

Okay. Small talk. You could handle that.

You told him your classes and what you were majoring in and then asked him the same and when he explained he was going for his doctorate in psychology with the intent to become a sex therapist you felt your heart thump wildly. He was gorgeous and going for a doctorate. The man was so beyond out of your league that you wondered why he was even sitting at that table with you entertaining this silly request of yours.

“Wow. That’s… I’m impressed.”

He grinned and you saw a dimple carve into his cheek, “Thank you. I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. Still working, though. So let’s talk about what you want. What things are you interested in getting some guidance on?”

Here it was. The moment you’d been dreading. But also what you were most curious about.

“Well, I’m seeing this guy and,” you took a breath. It was embarrassing to say it so casually at a café on campus of all places.

Harry reached toward you and placed his warm palm over the top of yours, “Hey, I know this feels weird. Doing this. I’m not going to pressure you to say it if you find it’s too uncomfortable but just know,” he dipped his head down to meet your gaze with his brows gently raised, “Everything you tell me here will be kept confidential and private. I’m not going to make fun of you or compare you to anyone else. If you change your mind, that’s okay too. I want you to feel like you’re talking to a friend. Okay? It’s up to you how much or how little you say. We move at your pace.”

You let out the breath you were holding and smiled. He was so – nice. He made you feel so at ease.

“Thank you. It’s weird. Yeah… but I think I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to be better at like,” you looked around yourself and lowered your voice as Harry moved his hand from yours and you settled your gaze back on his, “Better at giving blow jobs. And maybe like initiating more?”

He nodded, “Okay. Have you ever given a blow job before?”

You nodded, “Recently. The guy didn’t seem very enthusiastic about it so I didn’t know if I did something wrong.”

He took a sip of his tea and his green irises bored into yours, “I can tell you one thing I know that is true for nearly every single male I know; they love getting head. Even if he wasn’t vocal he probably really enjoyed whatever you did. Does that make you feel better about your skill level?”

You puffed out a laugh and saw the smirk on his face. He was trying to get you to smile, “I don’t know. Probably. I’m sure I’m overthinking it but I just wanted… like I want to be really good. Want to know tricks to get a real response.”

“Did the guy you’re seeing orgasm?”

You nodded again.

Harry’s grin softened, “Then you did as good as you could have. Goal achieved. He orgasmed and you made that happen.”

“But I want to be better. Like… I really enjoyed what I was doing. Made me really… well���” you looked down at your empty mug and sighed, “I felt like I enjoyed it more than he did.”

He nodded and licked his lips and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was kind of checking you out. You weren’t wearing anything revealing but he seemed to keep dropping his gaze to your lips and neck. But you figured that was because he was still getting used to your face and he was sussing you out a bit to see if he wanted anything to do with you beyond this conversation.

But that was true. He was checking you out. He saw your Instagram pictures before he contacted you (always his first step) and thought you were cute and wouldn’t mind seeing you in person. He certainly wasn't disappointed by you when he saw you either. You were cute and a little nervous and when you started talking about how you enjoyed giving that loser a blow job he couldn’t help but shift his eyes down to your mouth and imagine what your lips would look like on his cock. He wondered if you’d be just as eager to suck him off as you seemed like you were for the other guy.

Now, Harry was a polite and nice man. He was as respectful as they came. But he was still a man with a very high sex drive and he couldn’t help it. He did enjoy having sex and he got a lot of ass because he was good at what he did. And he was under no allusion that it also didn’t have anything to do with how attractive he was. Because of course, it did. He was aware of the way women looked at him and all the whispers about him on campus. And most of the time the sessions were just fun sex more than anything else. However, he happily gave guidance when needed.

And this time he was feeling pretty gung-ho to see what you could do. He’d like to get started right away, which normally he’d wait until after the initial meeting before jumping into it but there was something about the way you were looking at him, your eyes hungry and inviting…

You watched Harry shift in his chair and look around the café before he looked back at you, “What are you doing right now? Like after this?”

“Oh… nothing. Was gonna read a little, prep for a test I have on Monday. But…” you shook your head.

“Would you be interested in going somewhere more private? My studio is at the off-campus university apartments. Twenty-minute walk from here.”

Was he…? You scrunched your brows, confused at the sudden invite to his place.

“It’s up to you. I’m not rushing you or anything I just have a free evening and you seem really enthusiastic and I’d like to kind of get a feel for what we’re working with. If you think you’re ready.”

You nodded, “Okay. I mean… yeah. So no roommates?” You laughed nervously as he stood up and it was the first time you let your attention fall to the space at his crotch, to which you quickly bobbed your eyes back up to his face as you stood.

“Nope. Co-ed apartments. No roommate. Super private.” He didn’t miss the way you scraped your eyes over his torso and down to the spot on his jeans where his zipper was.

So that was that then. You’d be getting a lesson sooner than you imagined. And when you walked the twenty minutes through campus and the street that was just adjacent to the cafeteria you could almost hear your heart pounding. He was taller than you expected. He easily kept the conversation alive with small talk. He seemed so confident and easygoing. You tried to let that charisma and charm soak through your veins so that you weren’t as nervous as you felt, but it was impossible. You were about to go into Harry Style’s apartment alone and probably give him a blow job.

Harry waved at a few people on your way up to his floor. He was clearly popular. You wondered if anyone knew what might be happening. Why you were with him and why you were following behind him like you were a pup being trained and he was carrying a treat.

“Here she is,” he opened his door and gestured for you to walk inside. Neat and tidy with stacks of books and lots of plants. Some plants hanging, most potted, and on the floor or on tables. You noted he had no television and that there was a big partition that separated the small living space from what was probably where he had his bed. The kitchen was organized with open shelving and he’d bought a wire rack and it was stacked full of packaged foods, spices, oil, and other things to cook with at the top and at the bottom with pots and pans and a blender with its cord neatly wrapped around the base.

He excused himself to the bathroom while you looked around. There wasn’t anywhere to go really. There were two doors in the whole place. The bathroom door and another one, which you assumed was a closet. The kitchen area was open to the small living space.

When Harry emerged he sat down on the couch, which looked well-worn. You wondered how many people he’d had over and on that very couch. He sat with his legs spread and drew his arms over the back of the couch and just watched as you stepped in closer toward the small coffee table, “I like all the plants,” you commented.

He nodded and you clasped your hands behind your back in wait for what would happen next. You didn’t want to look again at his crotch. But the way he was sitting made it hard. He took up so much space on that couch and with his legs spread open like they were, it was almost as if he wanted you to.

“Gonna sit with me? I’m not gonna do anything if you don’t want.”

You nodded and sat down, keeping your limbs close to your body and separate from him. You didn’t want to invade his space or get in too close. Not yet anyway. Not until he invited you. Or rather, until he told you what to do next.

“Everything I said at Maud’s still stands. If you change your mind that’s fine. I’m not going to be mad.”

You turned to look at him and swallowed. The guy was out of this world. Simply delicious looking. “Okay.” You spoke in barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows over his knees as he kept his eyes on you, “Is this how you usually initiate?”

You raised your brows and shook your head, “What?”

“You said you wanted to be better at initiating. So far, I’m not getting any signals that you’re interested. Could be your first problem. Try relaxing a little, Y/n. Sit back and unhook your fingers. Loosen your shoulders. Not only will you feel more settled, but you’ll make the person with you feel better too. Which could push you to naturally begin conversation or movements that encourage contact.”

“Oh. Okay,” you sat back into his couch and loosed your hands, relaxing your posture, and looked at him, “Like this?”

Harry grinned and let out a small laugh, “Perfect. Now at least it appears you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared,” you quickly shook your head.

“I didn’t think you were. But your body language was giving closed-off signals. Which could appear to some like fear or discomfort.”

It made sense you guessed.

“I see. So, relax and it makes everyone feel better.”

He grinned, “So tell me what normally happens when you’re with someone and it leads to something sexual. Set the scene for me.”

You cleared your throat and decided to use your last time with Gunther as the example.

“Well, we were in his dorm room listening to music and laughing about something–“

“Back up a little. Did you invite yourself to his room? Did he invite you? What happened before you got to his room?”

“Oh, uh…” you pursed your lips in thought. “Well, we were out with two mutual friends. At a bar. Gunther, his name is Gunther, he was kind of flirting with me and I liked it. We didn’t really know each other all that well before but I always found him interesting. And so… he was flirting with me. Complimenting me. Things like that. Then he asked me to go back to his room with him. So, I sort of figured something would happen,” you shrugged. You didn’t know why it was so weird telling him all those details but it was.

You recounted how Gunther had made all the moves; kissed you first, groped you and then somehow it ended up with you sucking him off while he laid back on his bed and you were between his legs.

“And… he didn’t return the favor? Like you didn’t get anything?”

You shook your head, “I mean, I didn’t ask. He got off and then that was it really. I left not long after.”

Harry frowned, “Okay. And did you hope he’d do something in return? Like, use his hands or his mouth on you? Did you want more?”

Another shrug of your shoulders, “I mean… I didn’t expect it. Thought maybe next time we could do more? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t expect it. But would you have liked it?”

Nodding your head you looked away from his eyes, “I guess.”

“Did it turn you on?”

Another embarrassing thing to admit to someone you hardly knew. You nodded again, “It just all happened really quickly. I kind of thought things would take longer and we’d chat and maybe he’d have me stay longer and then… well anyway. It was like a total of thirty minutes or something that I was in his room.”

Harry sighed and crossed his leg over his thigh toward you, “And you really want to give Gunther the best head you can? The guy who wasn’t worried about your own needs? Seems very selfless of you, Y/n.”

You let out a breath and laughed, “I know. I just want to be good at it. And that was the first time we did anything so I figured I’d give him a pass.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you. Gunther is lucky you’re still willing to give him another shot.”

“I guess I thought if I was better he’d want to do it more and maybe then we could do other things too.”

“I’m going to be honest, Y/n,” Harry stretched his arm across the back of the couch, “You’re very cute and you probably won’t need to worry much about initiating most of the time. Like, for me, all you have to do is look at me with those pretty eyes and I’m ready to do whatever you want me to.”

It had been a surprise to hear that. You weren’t sure what to do with that information but you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you looked down at your lap.

“But a good start is to keep eye contact. At least enough to indicate interest. Can you look at me?”

Lifting your gaze to his he grinned, “There we go. So pretty.”

You shook your head, “I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

Harry lifted his hand to your cheekbone, “No. I don’t. And I don’t do this with just anyone either. Sometimes I turn down a request. I don’t tell them why but… There’s gotta be attraction on my end as well. And I find you very attractive, Y/n.”

You swallowed down the saliva in your throat and blinked for a break in eye contact before biting your lip.

“Now, even though we’re here for one thing, I do have opinions on matters of the heart and relationships. And frankly, I have to be honest about this Gunther, guy,” he dropped his hand, making his fingers brush down your cheek until he was no longer touching you, “I don’t like that he didn’t offer to get you off too. That’s a big red flag in my book. I feel it’s important to give and to receive unless it’s explicitly stated at the beginning. But you told me you thought you’d get more. And that bothers me.”

“Well, he’s a nice guy. I think he just wasn’t thinking…”

“He wasn’t thinking about your needs. That was selfish of him and something to watch out for. We can give him a pass for the first time, but if you see him again and he still doesn’t think about your needs, I’d hope you’d end that relationship and seek someone who’s willing to be less selfish with you.”

It surprised you that Harry was saying that about Gunther. But perhaps he was right. You did leave his dorm that night quite disappointed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I know you barely know me but that’s just my take. I’d never not offer to return the favor,” he kept his eyes on yours and you swore his lips were suddenly a shade darker. They looked like the perfect lips to kiss.

He grinned when he noted where your eyes were homed in on, “Do you mind coming closer? Feels like you're still too far away.”

You puffed out a nervous laugh as you scooted your bottom in closer toward Harry. His arm was draped over the back of the couch behind you and you felt the warmth of him before you felt his fingers graze the back of your neck.

 “So, I can kiss you? Can we start there?”

You breathed out through your nose and smiled as you nodded and kept your face angled toward his. He watched as you hesitantly put your palm on his knee and he put his hand over yours, “You’re a natural. See?”

Another soft laugh fell from your mouth as Harry’s face drew in closer to yours and your heart stopped as he nudged his nose into yours and you felt his soft lips smush against yours.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling that familiar heat between your legs as he ran his tongue against yours. It felt so intimate… not like a tutor lesson or anything of the sort. It was you and a handsome man making out on his couch as he pulled you onto his lap. It felt real.

For some reason, you imagined it being a little more dry. Like a real lesson. Like he’d pull his pants down and tell you what to do and show you what he liked and what really made men go wild. You hadn’t imagined kissing being part of the equation for some reason.

“Did he tell you how soft your lips are or how those sweet little noises coming from your mouth drove him crazy?”

He spoke his words between kisses and you were going to pass out. Because no, Gunther gave you no compliments once you got into his dorm room.

You shook your head as you parted from the kiss, your eyes on his.

Harry’s eyes roved your face as he softly dragged his thumb back and forth on your jaw, “I don’t like him one bit. You deserve someone who’s going to tell you how good you are and how good you make them feel.”

He softly pressed his lips against yours again, the kiss heating up into a frenzied pace once again as you stuffed your fingers into his hair and then you felt the bulk of his erection under your thigh when you moved in closer.

Parting from the kiss you looked down and then back up at him and he just smiled. Like it was the most normal and natural thing ever. Which… it kind of was.

“Got me all hard already,” he slid his thumb from the edge of your bottom lip inward and you moaned, “Just like that. You’re already better than you think you are. You’re driving me crazy, Y/n. I want to see what these lips look like wrapped around my cock. Can we do that?”

You nodded and began to move off of him but Harry took your hand in his, making you pause, “I’ll let you get me off if you let me get you off too. Okay?”

Your eyes widened, “Really? I thought this was just for–“

“I have a method and it always includes getting the other person off too. Or at least making them feel good. Unless you don’t want that. That’s okay too, but I would prefer to touch you as well.”

“Okay,” your words were breathy as he helped you off his lap, keeping your hand in his but then he stood up and you watched as he ran his free hand over his crotch, “Is it okay if we do it my bed? A little more space there. Think it’ll feel less rushed.”

Obviously yes. You wouldn’t dream of saying no to this man. Not that you wanted to.

The space behind the partition was just a bed and one side table. His bed was neatly made and there was a plant hanging by the opening of the partition. He gestured for you to follow him onto his mattress and he placed his back at the wall, where he had no headboard.

Kneeing up to him you were feeling shy again and he leaned forward and cupped your face with one hand, “You’re doing so good. If you need to stop at any time just say the word. I’m not here to make you do something you don’t want. Okay?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I know. I trust you.”

“Good. Just wanted to remind you is all. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep going even if I’m enjoying it, which I have a feeling I’m gonna like whatever you do to me.”

You giggled and nodded. He was fluffing up your ego and you hadn’t even really gotten started yet.

Harry started to push his jeans down, lifted his hips to get them off his legs, and then kept his eyes on you as he held his hand out for you to take, “Come here.”

You put your hand in his and let yourself get pulled between his legs as you looked down at the sizable lump under his boxer briefs, “Can we take your jeans off? Kind of want to have you in my lap a little while before we get down to it, yeah?”

You nodded and unhooked your button before pulling your zipper down. Harry’s hands found your hips as you tugged your jeans down and he helped you out of them, leaving you in just your hoodie and panties. Like Harry. He was just in his boxer briefs and his hoodie too.

You crawled into his lap, your thighs straddling his, and sat down as Harry smoothed his hands up and down your thighs, “There we go. This feels nice, having you close like this,” he ran his palms toward your bottom and then back down your thighs to your knees, “How are you feeling?”

You put your palms on his shoulders, “Good. Feel good. And you?”

“I’m feeling great. I’ve got you here in my lap,” he brought a hand up from your thigh to your face, his fingers sliding behind your ear with his thumb at your cheekbone, “And I like you. I think this’ll be fun. Just want you to feel at ease with me.”

You shifted on his lap, getting in closer, “I do feel at ease with you, Harry. You’re really nice.”

“Good. That’s what I want to hear,” his voice was soft as he gently pulled you towards him and pressed his mouth against yours again. His kiss was soft and sultry. Harry was far more sensual than you imagined he would be. Lots of soft touches and reassuring words. And his mouth against yours was addictive.

You moaned when his thumb ran along the edge of your panties at your thigh and you rocked your hips down, pressing your panties-covered pussy over his erection.

He inhaled softly through his teeth and lowered his mouth to your neck where you were melted into him. His warm mouth sponged wet kisses down your pulse point as you lowered a hand to the top of his cock.

He sighed when you began to rub your palm over him and you began to move back. You were ready to get him in your mouth.

“You can bring me out if you want. Or I can do it. Whichever you’re more comfortable with.”

You bit your lip and continued palming over him as you kept your gaze focused on his, “I’ll do it. Do guys like that more?”

He grinned and the dimples that carved into his cheeks had you swooning, “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on the guy but it can feel like the girl is really excited, like she can’t wait – the enthusiasm is nice. For me? I do like it more. But honestly, I wouldn’t complain if you wanted me to do it myself.”

You nodded in understanding as you focused on the dark green material of his underwear and reached toward the waistband. You looked up at him once more to check in and he just gave you a singular nod to keep going so you did.

The material was warm and stretchy. And you loved the way it felt to run your palm up the length of him, before peeling the fabric away and slowly revealing his cock. His tip was thick and smooth and dark pink. And then his shaft was girthy, quite meaty really, but so stiff. And when you’d pulled his underwear down far enough you took the whole of him in and it was… well it was a bit overwhelming. There was no way on God’s green earth you’d be able to stick that whole thing in your mouth.

“You don’t have to have it all in there. This isn’t a porno. I don’t need you to choke on it or anything like that. Use your hands and your mouth, as long as it’s nice and wet it’s gonna feel really good.”

You nodded. It was a relief that he wasn’t expecting you to deepthroat that thing, “Do you like it when someone can take it all the way?”

Harry breathed a laugh out of his nostrils, “Well… only if the person giving head likes that kind of thing. I would never enjoy it if someone wasn’t into that. But yes. I do rather like it. Not more than any other type of blow job, though.”

You gulped and continued palmed at his length softly. Harry kept his eyes on you to watch how you’d do it. To see what your go-to move was and when you made no move he finally spoke, “Go in however you want. Let’s see how you normally go about giving a blow job.”

“Okay. Yeah…” You took a deep breath and lowered yourself down as he fixed his feet flat on the mattress with knees bent upward, making space for you to fit between his thighs. First, you spat over his tip and used your hand to rub your saliva down his shaft. A quick glance up at him and he looked like he was enjoying it.

After spitting another glob over his slit that clung to your lips a little longer than it did the first time things were feeling much wetter. You stroked along the full length of his cock, from base to tip, tip to base, and back again as you lowered further, getting your lips just over his tip, and looked up at him, swiping your tongue over his crown. Smooth and warm. Adjusting your hips you got into a better position and gripped his base with both hands as you began to take him in your mouth. Your tongue cupped the underside of his cock as you dipped down and pulled up, suckling at his tip before repeating.

Harry’s fingers gently pushed at your chin, “I’d like you to do one thing for me, Y/n…” your eyes shot up to his, “Can you keep your eyes on me, just like you’re doing right now?”

You pulled off and nodded, “Yeah. Sorry.”

Harry tutted at you, “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just really fond of your pretty eyes. Personal preference is all.”

Keeping your gaze on his you kissed his tip softly and slowly before tonguing at his frenulum. It was a good thing you were looking at him in that moment because the expression on his face as you ran your tongue along the underside of his cockhead was lascivious and the sudden heat between you two might not have been noticed if you hadn’t been looking at him.

When you lowered your lips over him again, hollowing your cheeks and cupping the underside of his dick with your tongue, he palmed over your cheek and softly thumbed at your temple, “Y/n… fuck… that’s really good. Keep looking at me like this pretty girl.”

The soft touch from his hand and thumb on your face was full of affection and made your heart thunder in your chest. It made you dizzy the way he was looking at you. It was such a lewd act but somehow filled with tenderness.

The drool that leaked out of your mouth and down his shaft allowed your hands to slip around his base, twisting as you bobbed over the first bit of him with your mouth. It seemed like he was really enjoying what you were doing. Having your eyes on him while you were doing it felt more encouraging than embarrassing.

And Harry was very much enjoying what you were doing. He wasn’t all that picky when it came to getting blow jobs. Why would he be? Some hot girl wanted him to show her how to be better? Well, he rarely did much in the way of making someone any better than they already were.

Harry never intended to be known as a sex tutor or a sex guru. He was just a guy who loved sex. A guy who was patient and who really did care about the person he was with, even if it was just a one-time thing (which most of them were). And his line of studies gave him insight many lacked. The more he slept around (safely) the better he got and the more he understood. He put into practice the things he learned in his classes and when he was a Junior after a string of hookups with a group of very popular seniors he started to get a reputation.

It started with comments and discussions on the size of his cock. Then it eventually escalated to him being very good in bed. And how he could always make a woman come (he didn’t always make them come but he certainly tried and he learned the art of allowing sex to just be something that felt good and intimate and didn’t have to end in that elusive orgasm every time).

The first girl who was bold enough to ask him if he’d help her get to know her body better, had told him how she heard he was the best… and that had caught off guard. But he gave it a go. And he wound up enjoying the whole thing so much that when another girl asked him for help he decided there was no harm in going along with it.

He wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone, as some jealous of his prowess would make it seem. No, he just really wanted to help, he loved that connection and to have it end with sex (in whatever form) was never a bad thing. Mostly he was just having fun and if he could use some of his knowledge and give someone confidence by the end of a “session” then so be it.

When you sucked around him, slurping noises came from between your lips and the skin on his shaft and he moaned, “Oh that’s good…” He gently placed a hand at the back of your neck and nudged his hips upward the slightest when he felt his cock start to throb and balls tightened.

Harry pulled at you to bring you up so you slid your lips from his tip and looked at him with pretty rounded eyes as you sat on your knees.

“You’re perfect. If I had you sucking me off like this every day I’d have no complaints. That’s the work of someone who’s into it and I can tell you are. Got me so close to coming already,” he took your hand and kissed the tops of your knuckles. Yeah, you were already smitten with him. But maybe that was just because you liked his praise so much.

“Thank you,” you grinned shyly.

Harry took the hand he kissed and brought it down between his legs, sliding your fingers on the underside of his balls, “There’s this spot right here. Kind of smooth. Feel that?”

You nodded.

“It’s called the perineum. This spot,” he pressed the pad of your middle finger over the area of skin, “Feels really good when you rub it gently. Especially while you’re also giving a blow job. Maybe take my balls in your palm a little to massage them and then move to the perineum. Just about any man you suck off is gonna absolutely love it. It’s also a really good trick when you just want the guy to come already, ‘cause maybe he’s taking too long,” he grinned.

He dragged your hand up to cup his scrotum and you kept your eyes on his as you softly squeezed. Harry’s brows narrowed and his lips parted, “Let’s do that yeah? Wanna give it a go?”

Nodding, you lowered yourself again, your lips parting around his crown as you gently massaged his balls and kept your eyes angled up toward his. You kept one hand at the base of his shaft and felt the full, warmth of his sac in your palm before you pulled off of his cock and dropped your lips down to his balls, kissing the skin all around and skimming your tongue through every crevice and wrinkle, wetting him on all sides.

You remembered you were supposed to be looking up at him and when you saw his face it only egged you on. His soft groan and pink puffy lips parted in lust with hooded eyes so you wound your tongue down further and pressed the tip of your wet muscle to the spot he called the perineum.

“Fuck! Yes…”

You liked that reaction. So you did it again and used your hand on his shaft to continue pumping him in long strokes as you pressed over the small strip of skin under his scrotum before you brought your tongue all the way up over his balls and to his base. The pre-come dripping from his tip made things wetter as you slid your palm over him.

You kept one finger on his perineum and then brought your mouth back over his cock and the desperate whimper that fell from his lungs made you feel giddy. You sucked him in and flicked your sight up to him but his eyes were closed. You could feel his legs trembling as your shoulder was pressed into his inner thigh. Gently you brought your hand over his scrotum and massaged as you worked his tip with your lips and tongue.

He placed both of his hands on either side of your head, “Y/n… yes… honey I’m gonna come. That’s so good. You’re so good for me… holy shit… where do you want me to come, huh?”

You were kind of amazed at how he was so melty and whimpery from the blow job you were giving him. You lifted and looked up at him, “Just come in my mouth. Want you to feel good.”

He nodded as he panted and you put your lips back on him, lowering down and sucking as you used your tongue to apply pressure to his crown. Continuing to play with his balls and peek up at him you saw the moment his face scrunched up and his lips dropped open wide. No sound came out at first but you tasted the first pump of his come down your throat and then felt his big cock throbbing against your tongue and it was the hottest blow job you’d ever given. And you weren’t even receiving… the reaction he gave you had you so turned on and so dizzy that you felt the need to take him deeper.

You forced yourself down further, feeling his tip nudging and spurting at the top part of your throat and you swallowed around him before sputtering slightly.

When he finally began to moan it was deep and throaty. His head was tilted back, facing the ceiling as he pumped into your mouth and down your throat. The hands he held at the side of your face were gentle and honestly? You were in heaven. You could do this with him every day if he let you.

And you tried not comparing Gunther to Harry but it was hard. Harry was so masculine and his cock was prettier and much bigger. With Gunther, you could almost take all of him in your mouth without much issue. You didn’t but you probably could have. Harry was a different story. His big cock filled up all the space in your mouth and he smelled so good too. It was a mix of what you assumed was his natural smell with a clean powdery soap.

But it was the moans Harry was making that had you feeling so worked up. He really enjoyed your blow job and that was all you needed to feel good about yourself and your ability.

Harry’s moan quieted into a simper as you continued dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock until he lulled his head forward and looked down at you, “S’good. Fuck that was good.” He prodded at you to bring your mouth off of him and you sat back with a proud smile.

He leaned forward to pull at the back of your neck and smash his lips against yours. You clung onto his shoulders as he positioned you next to him on the bed on your bottom and then he ran his hands down your sides and pulled at your sweater, “Can we get this off?”

You gripped the bottom hem of your hoodie as Harry sat back and peeled his sweater off over his head, making you pause so you could devour his chest and his arms, and his abs with your eyes. The tattoos that were scattered over his body and on his arms were no surprise. You’d heard through the grapevine about his tattoos once your roommate told you about him. And you heard he was fit. But this? He was the perfect amount of muscled and beefy. He was lean but he appeared well-fed. Broad shoulders, pecs you could bite into…

You gulped when you felt Harry’s big hands smoothing up and down your limbs as he absorbed the sight of you before you finally pulled your sweater off and then unhooked your bra, holding the cups up against your breasts for a moment to make sure he was still in it. Because maybe your body would be a complete turn off but his expressive face did all the talking and he moved his hands up your hips as his irises roamed over your skin.

“So pretty, Y/n,” he spoke like he knew you needed the reassurance. Which you did. So you slowly lowered your bra and pulled the straps from your arms and almost immediately Harry ducked down and kissed your right nipple while his hand palmed at your left tit. He moaned against your soft flesh and you felt cool air hit your skin in the path where his tongue laved against you.

A soft gasp fell from your lips when he wrapped his mouth over your nipple and looked up at you from his spot, pink lips suckling at your breast. It was almost as if he needed to make sure he was doing what you liked. As if the man wasn’t some kind of expert.

Harry’s bulky body moved over you and his hands brushed over the skin at your sides and down to your hips where your panties clung tight. You lifted your hips, ready for him to take care of you, ready to have him pull the last bit of fabric from your body and Harry grinned at you.

“I’m gonna pull these down, okay?”

Nodding you laughed in slight nervousness. You weren’t sure when you’d gotten so eager but giving Harry a blow job had made you a bit insatiable and all of the nice things he said about you, how good you were... Your insides were aching and you knew you were probably already wet, the crotch of your panties was warm against your skin.

And as he slowly dragged the material down your legs he kept looking up at you. A little bit of reassurance that he was only going to go as far as you wanted.

Paying close attention to his eyes you watched him drag his gaze over all your crevices and then up to your tits and then your eyes as he licked his lips. He wrapped a hand on the underside of your calf, lifting your leg the smallest bit as he tucked himself in closer, his shoulders pressing into your thighs.

The warm, soft kisses he dotted on your inner thigh as he looked up at you made you feel worshiped. Like he was savoring the moment and was going to take his time with you.

“Y/n, I just want to make you feel good. Tell me if you don’t like something or if you need something more okay? Because you did so good for me and I’m gonna be dreaming about those lips on me. Just want to make you feel as good as good as you made me feel.”

Harry could tell you liked a bit of praise. A compliment here and there was easy enough to throw in because it was all true. You were very good and you were so pretty and now he was going to return the favor as best he could.

When you felt his tongue swipe up through your crease you moaned faintly as you kept your eyes on him. And when he dug in more, attached his lips to your pussy, and began sucking at you the groan that fell from his chest rumbled through your core and you held on to the back of his head as you arched your back off of the pillow under yourself. His lips slicked up and down, tongue pressing at your clit and then he moved, bringing his arm in and you felt his fingers prodding at your entrance as he looked up at you, pulling his mouth away from your pussy, “Tastes so good, Y/n. Could bury my face here all day long. You mind if I finger you a little? Would that feel good?”

He ran his digits through your folds like he already knew your answer and you nodded quickly, “Yeah. Okay. If you want.”

He grinned before you felt him push his middle finger past your opening and then he watched the face you made as he curled his finger up in your magic little spot. The one only your rabbit vibrator seemed to be able to hit.

You gasped and with that, he brought his lips back over your clit and got to work. His dark curls were smooth and thick between your fingers and the way he kept pulling his gaze up to yours as he licked into you was naughty. The whole scene was something from a dream. There was something so soft about how he kept his eyes on you to check-in.

You’d had a couple of guys go down on you before but they had no idea what they were doing and you weren’t sure if it was just supposed to feel like slippery nothing gliding over your labia or not. But now, with Harry doing the work… well you realized what it was actually meant to feel like. And Harry was not giving you slippery nothing.

He seemed to enjoy it as well which made your heart lurch in your chest. Especially with how he was moaning into you like you tasted good. And he had told you as much, which… that had you on edge already.

When Harry slid in a second finger he opened his mouth wide and tongued up from where his fingers were pumping into you to your clit.

You couldn’t help the pathetic moans that were loudly bouncing off the walls of his studio, “Oh god, Harry…”

But the thing that was really seeping into your skin and your veins and making your heart pound was his eyes on yours. You couldn’t get over it. It was so intimate and sexy and the gushy noises coming from your slippery pussy were lewd and dirty. It was the perfect juxtaposition of just nasty enough but also sweet and soft that had you spiraling.

When they tell you that the biggest part of getting turned on is all in the mind, that’s absolutely true. Harry was a master at it. You weren’t sure you’d ever been so turned on with any man before. He really knew which buttons to push and all the right things to say.

“Fuck, that’s good… holy shit, Harry…”

He loved hearing you whine his name and the feel of your hips bucking upward in tiny bursts. You were one of those girls that was going to have an orgasm, he just knew it. The way you kept getting wetter every time you shot your eyes down to his was a big telltale sign. Some didn’t like the eye contact but he loved it and so did you, clearly.

He moaned into your pussy and swallowed you down as he worked his tongue in teasing circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around you again and smushing down over you with just the right amount of pressure.

The arm he had under your thigh he wrapped under your lower back, pulling you in closer if that was possible, as he continued fingering you with his other hand. The man was unquenchable. Like he needed to stuff his face in as close as humanly possible. Like he needed to suck you dry and make it so that you never forgot his name.

Your insides were melting for him. His fingers were magic inside of you and it had your brain all fuzzed out and blurry. But the way he rolled your clit under his tongue was divine, otherworldly… he knew what he was doing with that big mouth of his.

You gasped and looked back down at him again and his eyes were already pinned to yours.

“Oh… gonna co… oh fuck, gonna come…” you felt like you were being lifted into the air, levitating and vibrating off the bed and out of the atmosphere as he kept his fingers and his tongue steady. But when he moaned deeply into your cunt, that low resonate sensation traveling from your clit to your core and through your tummy made you lose control.

You didn’t realize you were yanking his hair as your legs quaked and your body liquified under him. But it didn’t deter him. He watched you unravel, tits bouncing and back arching as you orgasmed into his mouth and he curled his fingers up against your g-spot as you clamped over his digits.

If he didn’t have his mouth occupied he would have praised you more in that moment. Told you how pretty you were and how good you did for him. But he waited until you began to slowly come back to earth before whispering into your ear the sweet things he knew you’d like to hear.

He laid next to you and grasped your face, kissing your lips softly as you sighed, “So fucking good. What a pretty orgasm that was, Y/n…” He spoke between kisses.

“Did that all for me? Yeah?”

You couldn’t answer him. Not in that moment. You’d just melted and dissolved and had only begun to re-solidify and become a real human with lungs and limbs and skin and pores again.

“You are really fun to eat out, Y/n. Tasted so nice and you sound so sexy when you come. You can call me anytime you need a release okay?” He continued kissing your cheek and your lips as he spoke softly.

Harry didn’t rush you out like you thought he might. He rubbed over your tummy and kissed your breasts softly and ran his lips up the side of your neck as you slowly opened your eyes and sighed.

“Feel okay?”

You nodded and smiled, “Really good.”

“Stay as long as you want. Okay? No rush. We can even grab dinner together if you want or I can make you something.” Harry wasn’t sure why he asked you that. While he didn’t usually rush anyone out, he didn’t typically offer food or dinner either. There was just something about you that compelled him to ask. Perhaps he hoped you’d stick around a bit longer.

You sat up, “Oh. That’s really nice of you. But… maybe I should probably head back. Get some schoolwork done.”

You’d have loved to stay for dinner but you also didn’t want to get your feelings mixed up for a guy like Harry. Not that there was anything wrong with him, but you understood what this was. A one-time thing. Something fun where you got to learn a thing or two. If you stuck around too long you’d probably just want more. And that would only end in heartbreak for you. Because Harry was kind of the ideal guy in a lot of ways.

“Of course. Just thought I’d ask.”

There were no hard feelings for this kind of thing. Harry wasn’t offended that you didn’t want to stay. He’d had a good time with you and he was almost certain you had a good time as well. And that was just about all one could ask for.

Harry let you use his bathroom to clean up and get dressed. And as you did so you thought about how Gunther didn’t even offer you anything to eat or to stay after. In fact he didn’t even ask if you wanted to use his bathroom, when that would have been nice after giving him head. Because even though Gunther didn’t really touch you, you were still wet, and walking back to your dorm with wet panties was not a nice feeling. Especially when you didn’t even get anything out of it.

You’d be wary of Gunther. You’d give him another shot because you were a nice girl but you weren’t going to ignore the concerns Harry had. Perhaps Harry was right.

When you stepped out of the bathroom Harry handed you a glass of water, “Drink a little before you head out, and what dorm do you live in?” He looked down at his phone as he asked.

“Oh… uh the Millennium dorms near the arts building.”

He nodded as you took a gulp of the water and he showed you his phone, “Uber will be here for you in three minutes. I’ll walk you down, okay?”

“Wait. You didn’t have to do that! Um… I can walk or get an Uber myself it’s–“

He shook his head and grinned, “I know I didn’t have to but it’s getting late. Don’t want you walking twenty minutes by yourself. Who knows what could be lurking out there,” he laughed.

You pointed at him, “Fine. But I’m gonna pay you back. Next time I see you okay?”

“Not necessary. Now come on,” he playfully swatted at your bottom and directed you toward his door, “Let’s go downstairs and wait for…” he looked at his phone, “Rebecca in a white Trail Blazer.”

PART 2

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[gguk-n]

Chapter 2- The Rules of Pretending

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Pretending to be a couple. Pretending to be in love for the watching eyes. It's all pretend right. Even having dinner with the parents; it's all pretend right? Why would they like me? Sadly, I'm the only one in love.

Y/N's best friend, Becky, was on the other side of the video call, "every time you say that, my heart skips a beat" Becky sighed. "You think so lowly of me" Y/N groaned. "I'm thinking, whether it is felony or murder. The suspense is killing me" Becky prodded. "Well, I might've agreed to a contract and an NDA" Y/N said building the suspense. "Don't tell me you sold yourself for a visa" Becky sighed. "No, I'm fake dating Lando Norris" Y/N explained. "Who is he? Some old fart?" she quizzed. "No, he's a formula one driver" Y/N whined. "You lost me there" Becky squinted her eyes. "Why would he date you?" she asked. "Who's best friend are you?" Y/N questioned. "Yours obviously but I have to cover all the bases." Becky laughed. "What do you get out of this?" she asked. "Visa renewal and money for my time" Y/N said. "So....You're a sugar baby" Becky nodded her head. "No..." Y/N trailed. "You are. If y'all bonk, charge more. That pussy expensive and smart" Becky pointed out. "This pussy is not. He's kind of hot" Y/N said. "Oh, this won't end well" Becky muttered which Y/N didn't catch.

Lando was kind enough to send Y/N the tickets to Silverstone and explain how they would leave the hotel together. The team had booked their rooms next to each other, so as to not draw too much suspicion.

Y/N was getting changed when she heard a knock on the door. She opened the door; "Hey" she smiled at Lando. "Hi" he smiled back a small blush on his face since she was stood in her towel. "You're in a towel" he pointed out. "We're getting married" she laughed showing her ring, "Not much to hide" she giggled. "I thought it was the room service" she explained. "You would've greeted room service like that" Lando asked shocked. "No, they leave the food at your door" Y/N said squinting her eyes. "We need to leave in 15" Lando said opening the door to leave. "But I'm still hungry" she whined. "I'll buy you something on the way" Lando suggested, closing the door.

Y/N was ready, 5 minutes before they were supposed to leave and the hotel forgot her food. "I think you should complain, I didn't get my food" Y/N said pointing her finger at the ceiling. "I'll do that" Lando laughed. They got something to eat while driving by and Y/N was sat there munching away while nodding along to the songs on the radio, Lando was stealing glances, smiling at the girl next to him.

He parked his car at the paddock. The media ready to snap pictures as he got out. Lando grabbed the extra sunglasses he had got out. As soon as Y/N stepped out of the car, the flashes went off. Lando slipped his shades on her and guided her to McLaren with his hand on her lower back. Y/N's heart was beating, at first she thought it was the bright flashes or the adrenaline but she realised that it was actually Lando's hand on her back. The entire team greeted her warmly when they spotted her.

News had spread like wild fire that Lando had brought a girl with him, another Thursday in their books, but some people were talking about how she had a ring. The McLaren garage was adding fuel to the fire stating Lando brought his fiance.

The media forgot about any race related questions they had and started asking him about the mystery girl he brought. "So, Lando, I've heard you brought your girlfriend?" the interviewer asked tentatively. "Ah, Y/N, my fiance, yes" Lando smirked. "Fiance?" she stammered. "Yes, we got engaged recently. I just couldn't hide my love for her anymore" Lando gloated. "Congratulations" the interviewer was shocked. The rest of media day involved a lot more questions related to Y/N who was spending her time with Lily in the garage. Oscar had come around to the whole fake dating thing and Lily was quite welcoming to say the least. "You're famous, around the paddock" Oscar said returning from the media pen. "Guessed so." Y/N laughed. "There's my gorgeous fiance" Lando shouted wrapping his arms around her. Y/N's eyes fell on the group of men behind him. "Action" Lando whispered pulling away.

"Guys this is Y/N" Lando introduced her, "Y/N my fellow drivers, who I spend most of my time away from you with" Lando laughed. "It's nice to meet you guys." she said. "Can't believe you get to spend all this time with him" she pouted lacing their fingers together. "No no, he's all yours" they laughed before pulling him away. "Okay explain" Carlos cornered Lando. "What?" Lando asked confused. "Where did you produce a girlfriend from?" Max questioned. "I didn't produce any girlfriend" Lando shrugged. "We've been dating for 4 years" Lando said. "While you were sleeping around. She must be a saint then" George chided. "I would've dropped your ass if I was our girlfriend" Alex said shaking his head. "Well, you aren't" Lando humphed. "She's an angel and...and I love her" Lando stated puffing his chest out. "Well, if you do, we don't mind. Just don't you think you're rushing with the proposal" Carlos reasoned. "No, I'm happy" Lando said trying to sell their lie. "If you say so" Max shrugged leading everyone away.

Lando walked in, "What was that?" Y/N whispered. Lando took her to his driver's room. "They are shocked since I have a fiance with my womaniser ways" Lando explained. "Money. That's how" she laughed. Lando laughed along. "You'll meet my childhood friend Max Fewtrell too soon" Lando said grabbing water. "Can't wait" she chirped. "Also, why didn't you let them in on our secret?" she asked. "Other teams wouldn't let their drivers sign NDAs from another team Too much legal hassle Zak said" Lando replied nonchalantly.

Max was also so confused when Lando introduced his fiance who he had been dating for 4 years. Max thought back to all the times and he wasn't sure when he had the time to date anyone when they spent most of the time together either with work or just because but he shrugged it off since Lando said he was happy.

Even though Lando finished second that weekend, everyone's eyes were on him. The media recorded their interaction after he got out of the car and zoomed in when they hugged each other. "We're gonna have to sell it" Lando stated. She nodded and Lando pecked her lips. Later, "Sorry about that" Lando apologised to Y/N. "Hey, if we're gonna tell people we're getting married soon, a peck is nothing" she replied.

The next event they needed to be seen at was a McLaren sponsor's event, the people they were doing this whole charade for. Ever since Y/N had popped up in Lando's life, at least in the media's eyes; every news article about Lando was how he's going to get married soon or how smart his fiance was since she was in a Master's programme at University. People at her University, professor's included wanted to know about Lando when they news spread. This was doing wonders for Lando's image.

Lando called a couple days before the event, "Hey, Y/N. The dress code for the event is formal. Do you have anything? Or do you want to go shopping?" Lando spoke into the phone. "Are you paying?" she joked. "Obviously" Lando replied rolling his eyes but Y/N couldn't see. "I'll pick you up in an hour. This could count as our public date according to the contract" Lando stated waiting for the reply. "Okay" she replied and cut the call to dress up.

Lando showed up almost on time while Y/N rushed to get her stuff and exit her flat. The two of them sat in the car in silence, only breaking it to make small talk.

The shop they stopped at had almost extravagant clothes which made Y/N feel out of place. Lando walked around pointing at a few dresses for the sales rep to take away, "You should choose a few you like too and try them on. We'll buy the one we both can agree on" Lando told her. She quietly scanned the racks, trying not to look at the price tag too closely.

After a couple of dresses, Y/N stepped out in a satin deep green dress with a slit for her left leg to poke out. the dress was held by spaghetti straps. "What do you think? I think I love this" Y/N stated admiring herself in the wall length mirror. Lando's eyes were wide, if this was a cartoon they would be the shape of hearts. He couldn't look away, "You look" the words were stuck in his throat. "Hmm...whether you like it or not, I want this" she smiled brightly looking at him with her puppy eyes. Lando felt like he would melt into a puddle. He just nodded wordlessly and than paid for the dress.

For the event, they showed up together. All the sponsors happy to see Lando and Y/N who was basically an accessory on Lando's arm. "You're gonna have to give your best performance" Lando whispered in her ear. "Don't worry, I was in theatre" she smirked pecking his cheek as they entered the venue. Soon being dragged away by Zak. After all the formalities of meeting with the various sponsors and the soft glances and whispers the two shared to keep up the charade; they were now stood away from the crowd. "Lando, do you get tiny burgers at all these events?" she asked, her eyes glued to the tray of sliders on the waiter's hand. "Not all" he replied before looking where her eyes were wandering off to, "Do you want them?" he asked. "Yes please" she replied eagerly. She picked up a few and pushed one into her mouth, "tiny burgers" she stated with a big grin on her lips while looking at Lando as her cheeks puffed up while she tried to chew it discreetly. "Bring me more" she mumbled with her mouth full. Lando burst out laughing, "Do you love them so much?" he asked. "Yeah, they are tiny burgers" she stated with another mouth full of the slider. "By the way, I'm graduating next month, so you'll have to come since my whole university wants to meet you" she said gulping the slider down. "okay" Lando nodded. "My parents will be around, but you can slip away after the ceremony. You don't need to join the dinner or anything" she explained. Lando just nodded along, pulling her closer by her waist as the waiter with a tray full of champagne almost knocked into her. "Careful, sweetheart" he said while Y/N was flushed against his chest. She felt her heart beating in her chest, loud and clear, Lando's breath hot on her lips. The proximity wasn't helping her. He looked down and when their eyes met, she hiccuped pushing herself away. "Thanks" she mumbled clearly feeling hot.

On the day of the graduation, Lando met up with Y/N's parents who for a reason unknown to her too, introduced him as her fiance as if by reflex. Her dad was skeptical at first but Lando quickly grew on him. "Congratulations, darling" Lando said hugging Y/N and handing the bouquet he got. She took the flowers and put them away. "Mum and Dad, this is Lando, my fiance" she said as her eyes widened. "It's nice to meet you Mr and Mrs Y/L/N" Lando said, turning around to smirk at Y/N. "I didn't know you were dating someone" her mother asked shocked. "Ah yes, we've been together for a while, haha" she tried to laugh it off while her dad stared at him. At the ceremony, Lando was surrounded by everyone wanting to take pictures with him. He was the one cheering the loudest when Y/N was called on stage.

"So, I booked this place for the celebration dinner" Lando told Y/N's parents. Y/N looked at him shocked, "It wouldn't look nice if your fiance ditched you on your graduation day" he whispered pulling her along. The dinner finished without any hitch except for the fact that Y/N thought she would faint with how fast her heart was beating. Lando was no better, he couldn't stop thinking about her when he reached home.

After the graduation, they were seen on dates across the globe enjoying themselves and mandatory race appearances; giving them the opportunity to grow closer. Y/N and Lando were both falling for each other but too scared to tell anyone or each other in the fear of losing what they have.

After returning from another one of their weekend getaways, Y/N sat down next to Becky. "Becky, I'm fucked" she whined. Becky looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue; "I think I'm in love" she pouted. "Saw that coming from a mile away" Becky smirked. "What?" Y/N asked shocked. "Haven't you read romance novels with the fake dating trope, both the main leads are fake dating and they fall in love. At least in the novel you know they'll end up together, I have no clue about real life" she said patting her friend's back. "I'm sorry but with Lando's past, I don't see you in his future" Becky reasoned. "Don't say that" Y/N cried. "I'm being realistic. It's better to move on" she said. "But he's different and those news articles, they are exaggerated. He isn't a complete fuck boy in real life." Y/N reasoned. "Hey I know nothing but his fancy world has no place for people like us" she told her best friend. "Weren't you happy that you would be done with the relationship when your PHD programme started. Weren't you happy it got delayed so that you could focus on your career?" Becky cocked her head. "Yeah I was" Y/N slumped. "But he's different and I'm not sure how I'll let him go" Y/N sighed as tears formed in her eyes.

Back at Lando's place, things weren't any different. Max was gaming on Lando's PC when Lando caught his attention, "I think I'm in love with Y/N" Lando stated. "You better be, since you guys are engaged" Max chided pulling his headphones off. "But like I did a thing" Lando began. "Please don't tell me you cheated on her now" Max begged. "What? NO. WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?" Lando shouted. "Mate I'm talking from experience that when people say that they mean they did something bad. I'm not saying you did it though" Max tried to calm him down. "Actually" Lando sighed, "We aren't actually dating" Lando said. "What?" It was Max's turn to shout. "yeah, we started dating because of my PR image but I think I love her now" Lando groaned. "Tell her" Max said as if it was the easiest thing. "What?" Lando looked at him. "Tell her and if she likes you too, the two of you can actually get married" Max said as if stating the obvious. "I don't think she likes me like that" Lando mumbled.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654 @plotpal @charlesgirl16 @inarabee @a-beaverhausen @hwalllllllelujah

[mattyriddlesbitch]

matty + ravenclaw reader 🙏🏻

(a little bit of smut if you want

I love this because I'm a Ravenclaw and am in love with Matty, so I got you!

I think Mattheo is actually really smart, like could get straight As type, but doesn't apply himself, so he wasn't too thrilled when McGonagall told him he needed to get a tutor and she already assigned him one. Which was obviously you.

He'd seen you around, thought you were pretty, but he never really talked to you. He thought you'd be some type of annoying know-it-all.

So imagine his surprise when you had your first tutoring session and you were actually pretty chill. He didn't actually need to be tutored, he knew that, but you didn't and kept trying to get his focus back on the work while he was trying to distract you the whole time, either with jokes or asking questions about yourself. He loved when you got annoyed at him and tried to get him back on track.

That's how all study sessions went. About a few minutes of studying and then he was trying to get you off topic. He actually did want to get to know you. You were so pretty and smart and witty and pretty. That's what he thought. Even when he was quiet and not trying to distract you, he was staring at you, whether you were talking or not.

I will always stand by this, he is almost stalkerish when he likes a girl, trying to find out everything about her, befriending her friends. You're no different. He's trying to catch you out of classes, trying to catch you in the library, or even in the halls between classes.

Will 100% annoy you when you're trying to study in the library if he finds you there. He'll sit down with you and try to get your attention, taking your books or notes. Loves your glares.

After a few months of study sessions, he tells you he doesn't need them. You think he's lying, his grades haven't improved. He makes a bet that if he can get 100% on his next test, he gets to take you out. You roll your eyes but agree. Just imagine the smug face he makes when he comes up to you the following week with perfect marks on his test.

And he takes you on such a nice date. He may love annoying you and playing around with you, but he actually wanted to impress you, show you he can be a decent guy. He finds out from your friends what your perfect first date would be and tries to do that as best as he can. Coffee shop date? Perfect, he'll take you to the nicest one in Hogsmeade. Movie and dinner? If he can't take you to a theater, he'll set up a projector in his dorm and bribe the house elves to either make you guys food or let him make it in the kitchen.

He loves reading, but isn't an obvious and reads everywhere type of person, but he loves just relaxing together and reading, while occasionally annoying you until you threaten to leave. Will also read the books you read. Better hope he doesn't see any of your smutty books. Or maybe hope he does. He'll recreate some scenes with you.

Loves how smart you are, brags to his friends about it all the time. Will always go to you with questions. But will also tease you if you don't know something that he does.

Will start making your grades a competition too. Likes annoying you by scoring higher. It does help his grades in the end anyways, so you take it as a win. McGonagall wasn't expecting this outcome, but is pleased with the result.

I also think he would send McGonagall a 'thank you' letter/note for putting you two together but will never admit to it

He loves you so much. He loves the sweet side to you and the sassy, witty side as well. He loves that balance you give him and knowing how to read him to tell what side he needs.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath

Let me know if you wanna be added!

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | teaser

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 465 for the teaser, overall wordcount tbd ➥ overall warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap (i hc reader to be late 20s but i tried to leave it vague enough), cowgirl position, biting, hair pulling, choking, squirting, teasing, pining, lipstick kink, breast/nipple play, masturbation (m), porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, coop's pov to start - rest of the fic will be in reader's, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | "We really s-shouldn't - oh fuck - be doing this." ➥ notes | here's a teaser for the fic i took a poll on, some people wanted more info 😊 coop is a big dick dilf fite me. feedback is always appreciated ❤️ lmk if you want to be tagged feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

Ugliest thing in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say.

It's not like being a Marine with a gun in hand, being told where to point and shoot, or an actor reading off a script. There's no guidebook, no crash course. These people aren't nameless threats coasts away or co-workers following a cue.

In fact, his 'enemies' aren't enemies at all.

They have names: Barb, so smart it hurts, and sweet little Janey, his very own North star. Sometimes looking at them rips open a hole in his chest that'll never close, edges jagged and sore. The phantoms of family, of happier times, found in the glint of a smile or a peal of laughter.

See, war's something he understands. Something he's good at.

But these domestic battlefields where he's gotta look his ex-wife in the face, and struggle to meet his daughter's eye? Barter this weekend and that holiday? To pay for the privilege of his child's presence (he does, he will, she's worth every goddamn cent he's ever made)?

To look down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman he loves staring back; he doesn't, can't, comprehend that. Because once upon a time, he was happy (with her) and life was sweeter than pie.

Now he's nothing but a washed up actor who struggles to land a call back let alone make his monthly alimonies. His marriage has failed, his reputation is in shambles, and his bank account is dryer than the Mojave.

Barb gets the house. He gets the dog.

And caught in the middle of it all is his little girl; the only thing he’s got left worth while. He wants to protect her, provide for her the way she deserves — only he seems to fall short every goddamn time.

The mistakes and missteps keep stacking up against him; such is his new life in all its raw, unglamorous glory.

Look how far the mighty fall.

Lucky for him — the first bright thing that's come his way in a long, long while — a sweet, young woman moves into the apartment next door. Of course, it isn't long before Janey takes a shine, always so friendly.

Thankfully, you're just as good with her.

It only makes sense you'd watch her when a gig runs late. Rustle up some grub and put her to bed whenever he slinks in through the door, stripped to the bone.

And if he takes himself in hand late at night, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress? Imagines the wide stretch of your lush mouth as you peer up at him from between his thighs when he cums hard?

Well, what you don't know won't hurt you.

After all, he promises to keep his hands to himself.

part 01 of full fic

[ancientwastedlores]

Don't Be Kind To It (Homelander x Reader)

The overwhelming amount of love Homelander Only Breaks His Favorite Toys got really hit me in the feels. Some of you asked for a part II, and much like Homelander, I aim to please (and love the praise).

[tags: @helreyy @discowizard88 @slasherho]

This one is lightly inspired by Hozier's "It Will Come Back," and we get a glimpse into Homelander's perspective as well.

Hope you enjoy it! <3

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

Don't Be Kind To It

Don't let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it

You're a smart cookie. And you know Homelander better than he knows himself. You expect him to stalk you, watch you from rooftops, send you gifts that have an agenda, and force Vought's Crime Analytics department to keep an eye on you.

So, you wait. You listen for the telltale whoosh of air, the crackle of energy that signals his arrival. Every gust of wind sends your heart hammering; every creak of the floorboards makes your blood run cold. You scan the skyline for a flash of red and blue, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

At first, you think he’s just toying with you, letting you stew in paranoia. You brace for him to materialize at the most inconvenient moment, smug and victorious. Yet days turn into weeks, and his absence becomes undeniable. You tell yourself he’s good at what he does—too good—but the truth begins to sink in: it’s not just you. Nobody has seen him.

No staged rescues. No public appearances. Not even a leaked video of him losing his temper. Ashley let slip that his tracking chip went dead 3 days ago. Vought is scrambling to spin the story - a secret overseas mission? A long-deserved vacation?

But the inner circle is panicking. The people who know him best—the ones who know what he’s capable of—are terrified.

Where the fuck is Homelander?

But... another thought creeps in, invasive and unwelcome, like a splinter under your skin.

Isn't he going to fight for me?

The selfishness of it makes you recoil, but it’s there, undeniable and raw. After everything, after all the suffocating control and emotional whiplash, you almost wanted him to stay obsessed with you. To prove that you still mattered to him. To prove that you had power over the most powerful man alive.

The realization is a gut punch. Maybe you’re not as different from him as you thought. Maybe his possessiveness, his need for control, rubbed off on you more than you care to admit. Maybe you’ve become just as twisted as him, longing for attention—even the toxic kind—because it’s better than silence.

And now, silence is all there is.

It wraps around you like a noose, tightening with every passing day. His absence presses on your chest, cutting off your circulation, making it hard to breathe. You tell yourself it’s relief—that this is what you wanted—but the emptiness feels like punishment. You try to convince yourself he’s sulking, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to make you regret leaving him.

But the longer it stretches on, the more it begins to feel permanent.

You could care less what this means for Vought. All the company seems to care about is who will lead the Seven now. Should they try to replace Homelander or lean into the “team-first” narrative Ashley has been pushing? PR scrambles to keep the media from asking too many questions, trotting out The Deep and Black Noir to cover for him.

But the public isn’t buying it.

Those who love him are afraid he is hurt. Those who hate him post conspiracy theories about Homelander going rogue - which feels way more accurate.

Either way, if Homelander doesn’t want to be found, no one can find him.

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

Your days stretch out unfathomably long. You expected to feel free, to savor the clean air and the wide-open spaces of a world without him. Instead, his absence is louder than his presence ever was.

When he was there, he consumed everything: every thought, every moment, every inch of your life. You hated it, resented it, but at least you understood it. His attention, no matter how suffocating, meant you mattered.

But now there’s nothing.

The silence echoes like a scream, reverberating through every corner of your mind. Every sleepless night, every anxious thought loops back to him. Where is he? What is he doing? Is he coming back?

You start to wonder if this is how he wanted it—to leave you drowning in uncertainty, gasping for closure you’ll never get. Maybe this is his ultimate revenge.

Or maybe…

Maybe he’s broken in ways even you can’t fix.

You almost wish for his cruelty, for the familiar push-and-pull of his twisted affection. Because this? This void where he once loomed so large?

It feels like dying.

No. You have to seek him out. You can't quite tell if it's for his sake or yours... you can figure that out later.

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

Monster's Lament

The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through cracked blinds. Dust floats in the air, settling over the relics of a forgotten time—old Vought propaganda posters peeling from the walls, a long-dead television covered in grime. It’s quiet here, too quiet, save for the clock that's miraculously still ticking.

Homelander sits slumped in a battered chair, his suit grimy, his cape discarded on the floor in a crumpled heap. His head is in his hands, his golden locks disheveled, the picture of a god brought low.

“You warned her,” a voice says, syrupy sweet.

Homelander doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to—he knows where it’s coming from.

The mirror.

He lifts his gaze reluctantly, and there it is: his own reflection staring back at him, but not quite right. The eyes burn brighter, the teeth are sharper, the smile is crueler. It leans forward as if trying to crawl out of the glass.

"You warned her," it sings again. "But did she listeeeen." "Not now, okay?" Homelander pleads.

The face in the mirror laughs. "Jesus fucking Christ, this is so pathetic. What are you waiting for, for her to come find you? For her to need you?" "She does need me." “Oh, sure. Because you gave her everything. The flying, the fancy dinners, the cape-flipping bullshit. But what did she give you?” It leans closer, its grin widening. “Pity. That’s what. You wanted love, and all you ever got was pity.”

“That’s not true,” Homelander growls, but his voice wavers.

“Isn’t it?” The reflection tilts its head, almost playfully. “She stayed because she felt sorry for you. The broken little boy in the big man’s body. She didn’t love you, not really. She loved the idea of fixing you. And when she couldn’t—”

“Shut up!” Homelander’s voice cracks as he lurches to his feet, his hands trembling.

The reflection’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “What’s the matter, Johnny? Don’t like the truth?”

He stands frozen, a deer in headlights. He never learned to deal with complex emotions, and even after all this time, it wraps around him like a boa constrictor, cutting off his air supply and rooting him to the ground.

And the reflection starts to sing. “Don’t feed me, honey. Don’t be kind to me.”

The lyrics echo around Homelander, twisting like a blade.

"Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul Honey, make this easy Leave it to the land, this is what it knows."

"STOP IT" Homelander cries.

"Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back"

"You're supposed to be on MY side." Homelander says. "I am. This is what that looks like," It replies.

Homelander's stares ahead, his fists clenched, his jaw tights, his eyes ready to burn holes into the mirror. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating.

Homelander closes his eyes, but her face is there, burned into his eyelids. The way she looked at him—like he was more than the sum of his power, more than the monster everyone else saw. He hates her for it. He loves her for it.

“Why did you leave?” he whispers to himself.

The reflection’s smile vanishes. For a moment, it almost looks… pitying.

“Because you allowed it,” it says simply.

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

"She fed you ONCE. And you kept going to her like a stray fucking dog. You took her mercy and her love and you became weak. Nobody wants weakness, Johnny." It leans forward, smiling, canines gleaming, "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Homelander looks at the ground. Shame and desperation wash over him, and he blinks tears back.

"You're going to claim her. And you'll make sure she never, ever leaves again. Right?"

Homelander doesn't look up from the floor.

It gets irritated. "Right?"

Silence.

It rolls its eyes. "Do you want ME to do it?"

Homelander looks up, hope obvious in his bright blue eyes.

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

You don’t intend to start looking for him. It just… happens.

It begins with small, idle habits—clicking on articles about Vought’s latest scandals, scrolling through old news coverage, and watching grainy footage of staged rescues from years past. Your eyes search for him automatically, for that familiar streak of red and blue cutting through the chaos.

Then it escalates.

You start wandering the city at night, tracing the paths he once flew you along. You visit the rooftops where he used to land with a flourish, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. You linger outside the exclusive restaurants where he once paraded you like a trophy, his smile razor-sharp as he soaked in the envy of the other diners.

But it’s not just the glamorous places.

You walk down seedy alleys and explore dark corners—the forgotten places he claimed as private retreats. The places where he could let his guard down, where the mask of America’s golden boy slipped.

It feels grotesque, this act of seeking him out. Like you’re willingly feeding the monster you swore you’d escape. You hate yourself for it, for the way your heart leaps at the thought of seeing him again, even if it’s just to tell him to his face that you’re done.

But you can’t stop.

You start putting yourself in danger—not consciously, but recklessly enough that it’s obvious even to you. Walking alone through neighborhoods that turn predatory after dark. Taking late-night trains without any plan or destination. Part of you hopes he’ll swoop in, cape flaring, to save you in one of his dramatic displays of power.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, one night, it’s Black Noir who finds you.

The alley is suffocatingly narrow, the air heavy with the mingling stench of rotting garbage and damp asphalt. The dim, flickering streetlight overhead barely illuminates the passage as two men circle you like predators. Their laughter is low and ugly, their shadows long and distorted against the brick walls.

You freeze, your breath caught somewhere between a scream and a sob, as one of them lunges toward you. You pray even now that he'll swoop in from somewhere.

And then he’s there.

Black Noir steps from the shadows like death itself. His arrival is so silent, so abrupt, that the men don’t even notice him until it’s too late. A gloved hand clamps down on one man’s shoulder, spinning him around with an almost casual effort. Noir doesn’t waste time. The blow is swift, brutal—a single strike to the man’s temple that sends him crumpling to the ground.

The second man barely has time to react, stumbling backward with a terrified curse. Noir closes the distance in an instant, his movements fluid and precise. A sharp crack echoes through the alley as the man’s arm is wrenched at an unnatural angle. He screams, but Noir silences him with a swift knee to the ribs. He falls, gasping and broken, as Noir turns to you.

The black Kevlar of his suit gleams faintly in the dim light, the contours of his armor making him seem more shadow than man. His helmet hides his face entirely, the opaque visor reflecting your terrified expression back at you. He stands perfectly still, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his presence both menacing and oddly comforting.

You crumble to the ground, your legs giving out beneath you as adrenaline and fear collide in your veins. Relief washes over you, but it’s tainted by something darker—frustration, disappointment, an aching sense of abandonment.

Noir kneels on the ground to make sure you're okay.

“Why—why isn’t he here?” you sob, your voice breaking. The words spill out of you, raw and unfiltered, as you pound your fists weakly against Noir’s chest.

He doesn’t move.

“Why won’t he come for me?” you cry, your hands trembling against the hard, unyielding surface of his armor. “He’s supposed to be here. He’s always here.”

Noir doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He simply stands there, a silent sentinel as your emotions spill over in a torrent of tears and ragged gasps. His helmet tilts ever so slightly, as if he’s observing you, but he offers no comfort, no words of reassurance.

You clutch at him like a drowning person reaching for a lifeline, your fingers curling around the slick fabric of his suit. The tears come harder now, soaking into the Kevlar as you press your face against him.

“I hate him,” you whisper through clenched teeth, though the bitterness in your voice is softened by the despair in your heart. “I hate him for leaving.”

Noir stands up, lifting you with him, and lets you go once he's sure you're standing straight. His silence is maddening. Why isn't he angry that you're being ungrateful? Why isn't he at least talking about Homelander disappearing? ANYTHING?

You finally step back, your hands trembling as you wipe at your tear-streaked face. Your gaze meets Noir’s visor, and for a moment, you imagine you see something there—pity, perhaps, or understanding. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the blank, inscrutable void of his masked expression.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely, though the words feel hollow. What you really want to say is, Why wasn’t it him?

Noir doesn’t react. He simply steps back, his movements as quiet and calculated as ever, before melting into the shadows.

You’re alone again, the weight of Homelander's absence pressing down on you like a physical force.

But... a thought creeps in. If Black Noir came, then Homelander must know, too. They all have access to the same intel. He knows where you are and what you’re doing, and still—still—he hasn’t come for you.

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

GUYS, I think this is going to be a three-parter. Bear with me. The next chapter will be the last. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be tagged to the third one!

Thank you for all the love 😭😭

[kitkat13001]

⋆⟡ ݁⚡︎ ₊ . 𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 

⤷ denki kaminari x reader

⤷ friends to lovers, mutual pining, coming-of-age vibes, inspired by the song “ultimately” by khai dreams

ultimately  i don't understand a thing i try to do the best i can i know you try to do the same

denki kaminari was never the smart one. he liked to joke around a lot but the truth underneath his charming smile was that he was terrified of failure. he was afraid that people didn’t see him as anything other than the dumb but funny kid in their class. just a yellow sticky note with a joke written on it, here to be laughed at and gone with a mild breeze. 

we’re just so bound to make mistakes you could call it a disposition i apologize for all your tears i wish i could be different

you were never the fortunate one. things just didn’t work out for you the way they did for other people. you could blame it on a lot of things, but you sometimes think that it boils down to the fact that some things weren’t meant to be. maybe you were one of them. maybe you never would be. 

but i’m still growing up into the one you can call your love i don't know if i’ll ever be enough i’m throwing in my chips i guess i tend to push my luck

high school always feels like it’ll last forever but one day you’re waking up and suddenly it’s all over. and the graduation ceremony is beautiful and everyone cries and then the tears stop when yaomomo announces the party at her house and mina announces the after-party at her house. it’s so strange that after the fun dies down you all realize this is the last time that all of you will be here, under one roof, all together. and it’s sad, of course, but also some strange kind of beautiful. that you’re all going to different places and becoming different people. 

and ultimately i believe we'll be okay it’s so cliché to say these things but repetition is a key

many promises are made the night of graduation. the usuals, to keep in touch and call every day and send pictures and meet up for the occasional hero team-up. but denki’s eyes have been fixed to you the entire night, and he’s got a promise for you too. of all the people in this room, you’re the one he doesn’t want to lose the most. so when the party is over, he swallows his pride and walks over to your dorm room on your very last night at u.a., trying not to stutter and not to trip over his own feet. you welcome him like you always do, and you spend a long time laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling as though you’re stargazing. the only stars are the glow-in-the-dark stickers still attached to the ceiling, though, but they’re enough to give denki hope. 

i think i’m better when i’m with you but i worry when you're gone i think i need to learn to love myself i must learn to be strong

“america is a long way from japan, huh?”

you blink, as if you’re hearing about it for the first time. “i guess so. it didn’t really occur to me until now, i guess.”

“i don’t know how i’m gonna spend my nights without our 1 am study sessions.” denki means it as a joke but he’s entirely serious. his life is going to feel so empty, he thinks, without you in it. 

“maybe you could try sleeping,” you giggle to yourself. 

denki snorts. “nah. i think maybe i’ll still stay up, but on facetime with you. it’ll be daytime there.”

“it’s crazy. i never thought i’d end up so far.”

“you could always come work in tokyo with me,” denki suggests, a not-very-sly wink following suit. 

you laugh. “as much fun as that would be, i think it’s time for me to be somewhere new. i can learn a lot in the u.s.”

he sighs a little. “i know.” he’s silent for a second before he asks the question that’s been weighing on him ever since you announced your departure for america. “do you think you’ll come back? after your sidekick residency, i mean.”

you think on it long enough to get denki’s heart racing with panic. “i don’t know. maybe. i guess we’ll wait and see, huh?” and then you smile and denki really wishes he could feel okay. 

so, for now we'll say goodbye although it pains me in my heart your words they come to me in memories they sing to me like songs

denki cries when he walks you up to the terminal. you cry when denki cries. you sit, a puddle of tears, embracing each other in the middle of the crowded airport as onlookers swarm to get around the commotion to their flights. 

he cries for several nights after you leave, and you cry in your hotel room while you scroll through your old pictures. 

but like anything else, you get used to the absence. the silence. 

it won't be long until i’m here soon i’ll make my arrival under shady trees, a quiet street the roads that i have traveled

tokyo is as lively as you remember it, you think as you watch the busy streets and bustling people and colorful scenery from your spot sitting in the patio of a corner café. you drum your fingers on your cup anxiously. you don’t know why you’re suddenly so nervous, but the idea of seeing denki after all these years makes your heart race.

what if you look different to him? what if he can’t recognize you? what if you can’t recognize him? what if-

you whip around when you hear a familiar nickname of yours called in an even more familiar voice. 

a scream promptly erupts from a young blond man’s lips as he makes a beeline for you. 

a giant smile appears on your face and you begin to scream as well, running for him. 

“denki!”

you collide in the middle of the outdoor seating area, clinging on to each other with a surprising grip. 

denki pulls away and his grin is so wide. 

“you’re taller! and you’ve got a new hairstyle!” he exclaims, eyes roaming over you as he takes in your changed appearance. you look different, for sure, but you look like you. 

you shriek out loud, eyes landing on the metal hoops through denki’s ears. 

“you pierced your ears?!” you demand, bending his head awkwardly to better look at the decorations. 

denki laughs. “i tried to tell you!”

“i thought you were joking! and your bangs, look at you…” your hands remain steady on his cheeks and you get a good look at him, squinting dramatically. you beam at him after a minute of scrutiny. “you look good, denks.”

if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was blushing. “thanks. you look good, too…you always look good.”

ultimately it's a beautiful thing like flowers blooming in a lonely field the petals drift through crossing winds

there’s a very brief moment as you hold him, his hands on your forearms, eyes interlocked and bated breath, where everything feels like you never left. like you’ve been here with him the whole time and there’s never been anything but you and denki kaminari forever. 

it’s that ephemeral moment of beauty that lets you lean in and kiss him, like you both should’ve done so many years ago. 

and it’s everything you ever dreamed. his lips are soft, his hands are warm, and his bangs are tickling your nose. and it’s so perfect you can’t believe it took you this long to do it. 

that find their way to river streams that scent the water beautifully it takes me back to you it takes me back to you

you laugh breathlessly when you pull away after a very long moment. denki just stares at you in awe, dopey grin plastered on his face. 

“god, we should’ve done that forever ago,” he admits, bashful and pink-cheeked. 

“yeah, probably,” you agree, slinging his arm over you shoulder as you tug him along. he moves with you like a magnet, and it feels right to have him by your side again. 

“guess we’ll have to make up for lost time.”

“i guess we will.”

icons from pinterest, not mine ; divider by @/saradika-graphics — i actually really like how this one turned out. i wrote the premise years ago and it finally hit me tonight to finish it. denki holds a very special place in my heart.

[nadinefromwhere]

Self Aware (part 1)

self aware! Zayne x Reader

warnings: none

is it this bad when i say kinda wanted to post this with the other parts of the li's but i got lazy-

wanna check out my fanfic updates? HEAR ME OUT I WILL WRITE FLUFF AND ANGST GANG!!!

ao3 link wattpad link

Zayne feels weird. Like really really weird. He feels like something was watching him, everywhere he goes or when he visits the cafe, it was like someone was watching every step he took. 

Meanwhile you, on the other hand, were taking your internship at your university’s hospital. Finally after spending 20 hours at shift, you finally come home and plop in your bed. Immediately, the first thing you do is open the game of love and deep space. It’s been famous for a while now so you decided to play the game. Eventually you get attracted to a young doctor. He was the same age as you, his name was Zayne. Really smart and also to make it better he was a doctor just like you..

After doing your dailies, you decided to do the claw machine with Zayne. You swear to yourself this hasn't happened before. Why was he just…..staring at you? Staring at the screen as if he’s trying to look at you is creepy.. It was more as if he was trying to break the 4th wall….

“Who are you?” you hear zayne say. As he slowly walks towards the invisible screen. Can he see you perhaps? In an attempt, you tried exiting the game but to avail you couldn’t. Why out of all the times your screen had to freeze like this? As the man on your screen looks at the invisible barrier that separates you both, you panic and throw your phone across the room.

Were you hallucinating? It can’t..that can’t happen in the game right? 

“That’s it, I'm napping. I'm not going through this anymore” you say to yourself as you head off to dreamland….

Zayne on the other hand, the young doctor was confused about what was happening. Was that… I mean her watching him the entire time? What was happening? Or is he just hallucinating? Whatever happened earlier didn't seem normal

He was lost in the sea of thoughts, until you MC snaps him out

“Zayne, are you alright?” Your Mc says as she asked the doctor in front of her, concerned.

“Don't worry, I'm alright,” He says calmly. As if he wasn't in a trance on what had just happened earlier. 

As weeks go by, he eventually finds out that the world around him seemed that it was watched on. Something fictional. Zayne also later on concluded that there was someone indeed watching him, especially when he goes to destiny cafe. He also later on discovered that Mc was some sort of vessel to this person watching him. 

If he had a chance to wish, he would like to meet the person in question. But how???

Meanwhile you it’s been a few days since that strange incident had happened, since then you haven’t logged back in the game yet cause of course on how packed your schedule is.

Despite the days passing as quick as a run, you still never gotten over the fact that zayne started walking towards you. You even went on twitter and asked if it was a feature in game just to find out it wasn't so how? How was that possible? 

Until one day everything changed. During break, you received a message from an unknown person, and who was he? Well it was no other than him 

Messages

Unknown contact: hello? Mc? Is this your new phone number?

You:Hello, who is this? The person you're referring to is not me.

Thinking about it for a moment, the name the person was referring to sounded familiar. Was it. No it couldn't be 

You: wait that's actually me i'm sorry i misread earlier 

Unknown contact: did you take your medicine earlier?

You: who are you?

Unknown contact: it’s me zayne, have you forgotten my phone number?

Zayne??? How was that possible? He doesn't exist. He isn’t even real but how can he contact you? 

You: if you're Zayne then…..send me a pic of yourself, there’s no way you're him.

Of course the person was just joking. That actually isn't him.

As the person sends you a picture of themselves, it looks exactly like him. From his matcha - green eyes, pitch black hair, those thin lips. It was him, but how could he exist?

You: zayne…ZAYNE???

Zayne: It took me sometime on what had happened back in the claw machine. So to summarize what had happened so far from my perspective it seems like I'm in some sort of game…. And the person I was with the entire time wasn’t you.. It seems as if it was some vessel to something…

You: how did you-

Zayne: But for now the only way that i can talk to you is through here only. Sadly i can’t talk to you in the game as it is only limited

Zayne: It’s as if someone’s watching me other than you. Limiting my words everytime when you drop by the cafe just to say hello.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Days passed, work hours got longer like a pasta noodle, his sudden disappearance concerns you like the plague. Even if you were playing the game, you eventually did notice that Zayne was…eerily quiet..as if he was watching your every move, Was someone controlling him? You wonder.

Even when messaging him, he doesn't reply at all. It has almost been 3 weeks since you both last spoke and it's starting to concern you. What happened to him? You wondered as you clock in at work…..

Months passed by and since then there was no reply from him. Not even a message or anything. He’s always the same every time when you get in the game. He was like some mannequin who would stand in place, not talking or either at least greeting you  good morning. Nothing. Nothing at all. 

Until everything changed one day, suddenly while at work, your boss had announced that someone would be joining today at work. A cardiologist, he says. Before you could think of anything else, you froze in shock. 

It was him. Were you hallucinating? It's actually him. It was no other than Zayne himself…..

After the small party of the new cardiac surgeon that just started his first day of work, You immediately pull him out of the room. He was here. You were not dreaming anymore, his actually here.

“Zayne?�� you say, as you look into his eyes.

“I guess we cross paths again after so long” He says a smile forming at his lips

“What happened? Are you okay?” you ask touching both of his cheeks making sure he was real and you on the other hand was not hallucinating.

“Well maybe or not I have left that  world to be with you” Zayne says taking your hand from his cheeks, to touch his.

“I'm so happy you're here” you say hugging him

“And I am too,” he says, whispering into your ear.

Nothing will happen later on right?

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // twenty-one

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: oh- you guys wanted them to be happy and in love in peace?? my bad. anyway, good a time as any to wish you guys a happy valentines day! lol

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

"Where are ya takin' those?" Lennox asks you as you're quickly scanning through your piles of books, pulling out one or two at a time and holding onto them.

"I will bring them to Coryo and Sejanus." You smile to yourself, standing up straight as you finish picking out most of your favourites.

"Coryo." Lennox scrunches his nose up. "Why bother? They can't read that many books in a week. Especially when he'll hardly get his hands off you long enough to do literally anything else."

"Oh, Lennox hush. That is not true." You shake your head pointedly, cheeks burning red.

"It is true."

You had kind of explained to Lennox what happened, that Coryo explained, apologized, and that you were wrong about him. Your mother was right, of course, but Lennox still wasn't buying any of it. Although, he wouldn't deny that you seemed happier.

"Ma!" You call out, coming out of your bedroom with the stack of books in your arms. Trying to talk to Lennox about this would never end in him actually listening to you.

"Just out back, honey!"

You follow her voice out onto the back porch. "Ma, do you know if there's a limit of things you can take on the train?"

She looks up at the question, laughing at the stack of books you have steadied under your chin.

"It's not a passenger train, honey. I don't know." She chuckles. "You want to give him all of those? Won't you miss them?"

"Well..." You think about it, placing them down on the ground to rest your arms for a moment. "I don't know when I'll see him again, and books are expensive to post. Besides, I know they'll be in safe hands, and if I want to read them again I can take them from the library."

Your mom smiles sadly at you. "I suppose that's true."

"Yes." You grin, crouching down to pick the books up again carefully. "I shall go drop these off."

"When will you be back?" She asks, just as you're about to walk back inside.

"Uh, I'm uncertain, but I shouldn't be long! We don't have any plans."

"Maybe you should take your brother with you, he can carry those." She suggests and you sigh.

"No, Ma. He's mean." You pout.

"He only wants to keep you safe. Take him with you, please. He'll be driven mad here waiting for you to get back." She insists and you groan, dropping your head back. "I won't ask again, I promise."

"Okay, Ma." You relent, stepping back into the house and letting the door swing shut behind you. "Len! Ma says you're coming with me!"

"So... how do you know where they are staying?" Lennox asks you, half the books in his arms as you practically skip ahead of him.

"Coryo showed me the other day."

"Oh, he did. Of course he did." You can practically see him rolling his eyes behind your back. "Have you ever considered that he could just be using you? I mean-"

"Lennox, that's not a rational thought process. I have nothing that he would want, he already won his prize." You interrupt. "He just came here to spend time with me, we talked about that when I was in the Capitol."

"I can think of something he wants..."

"Lennox!" You turn on your heel, pointing a finger in his face so fast he almost stumbles as he stops. "That is enough. You have so little trust in me!"

"It's not like we haven't been down this road before!" He argues, and you quickly look around as he raises his voice. The path is deserted this time of day.

"And you don't think me capable of learning?"

"Clearly not! Him and Cole are practically the same person!"

"Don't you say that- I didn't like Cole and you know it." You narrow your eyes at him. "Coryo is different. He wouldn't hurt me."

"You do realize that those are like, the famous last words that every teenage girl ever has said and regretted it, right?"

"Do you just not want me to be happy?" You ask bitterly. That wasn't true and you knew it, but you were upset and you knew it would get your point across. He was being cruel.

"The opposite, actually! I just want you to think realistically about fallin' into the open arms of your 'knight in shining armour' who you've literally had nightmares about for weeks on end."

"I am not a child! I am an adult, and I am capable of making my own decisions." You spit. "He's not using me. He loves me, and I love him."

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll say that until-"

"Lennox you are such a.. boy!" You groan. "If you must know, if you must insist that I am so stupid, no, I have not slept with him. Is that what you needed so desperately to hear?"

"Gross." He mumbles, shaking his head with disgust. "I don't care what you do with your alone time, actually I'd really rather not know! All I'm saying is you need to be more careful."

"I'm not going to fight with you. You can trust my decisions or not." You grumble, turning back around to keep walking. He follows behind you silently, neither of you saying another word the whole walk there.

You knock on the door, taking a step back while you wait for it to open. You can hear your brother breathing behind you and it's driving you up the wall. You would drop off the books and send him home- maybe you would stay for a while, go for a walk, something.

The door creaks open and you smile when you see Sejanus. "Y/N!" He grins, opening the door wider for you to come in. "Coryo! Your girlfriend is here!" You blush at the term as you walk in past him.

You hadn't discussed any kind of title to what you had, the looming ache of him leaving again so soon holding you back from wanting to mention it. You assumed he didn't want to discuss it either, both of you silently agreeing just to enjoy the time you still had together.

"Y/N/N." Coryo grins, eyes lighting up as he enters the room.

"Hi." You smile, ignoring your brother pretending to gag behind you.

"What brings you?" Coryo asks. "I didn't expect to see you today, I was thinking of coming to see you myself."

"Yes, well, I went through my books and brought some over that I would like you to take." You look back over your shoulder as Lennox is placing the large pile of books on the dining table.

Coryo hums as he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. "That's a lot of books." He chuckles.

"You don't have to rush through them, keep them as long as you'd like." You assure him. "I just thought they were some you may enjoy."

"I'm sure I'll love them." He kisses the top of your head. "Thank you."

You turn in his arms to look up at him, ticking your head slightly when you hear Sejanus speak quietly. Clearly, not to either of you. "Hey, I just want to show you something. Come outside with me?" And then the door is shut, and you and Coryo are left alone.

"What's he showing him?" You ask, and Coryo watches through the window as his friend and your brother circle around to the side of the house.

"I am not sure." He answers. Immediately, he's thinking of the note Sejanus had scribbled out for himself. It included your brother's name alongside the dates and times, and those dates were creeping up quickly, the seventeenth being in three days- if he had today's date correct.

"Coryo?"

"Hm?" He looks down at you again. "You were thinkin' for a minute there. What's wrong?"

You were always so concerned. All he had done was take a moment to think, and you seemed genuinely worried. Maybe there was something in his face that showcased his confusion. "Nothing, love." He assures you, but you don't seem inclined to believe it. "Okay, uh, just... Come with me." He grabs your hand, watching out the window to make sure they aren't coming back yet as he leads you to his room.

You step into the small space and smile. He wasn't here for long, but the room already had little touches of him. The bed was made, and there was nothing on the walls but the bedside table had the copy of Romeo and Juliet he had got for you, a folded-up note, and a comb for his hair he had yet to put back in his bag despite him not needing it anymore.

You turn to face him after he shuts the door, smiling. He almost looked normal here, now. Like he was getting used to being here with you, living your life. It certainly wasn't like what he left behind in the Capitol, but to you it was special.

"Y/N, I have something to tell you." Coryo says, serious with a lowered voice. He didn't want anyone to hear it, even though you were still likely alone in the home.

"Okay." You reply, feeling your brow crease as you nod at him. His tone makes you nervous- your heart skips a beat in your chest. For a moment, you feel trapped. Tell him what you need. He won't mind.

"Can you... can you move away from the door, please?" You ask quietly before he has the chance to speak again.

He nods, not wasting a second before passing you and you turn with him, now with the door to your own back. "Is that better? You okay?" He asks and you nod.

"Fine just fine." You smile, trying to be reassuring. "What were you going to tell me?"

"Right, so..." You watch as he runs a hand over his head, still in the habit of pushing back his hair. "I was in Sejanus's room the other day, and I found this note. It had two dates and places on it, and then your brother's name and that was it."

"Oh." That's the only thing you can think of to say. "Well... do you remember the places? Maybe he was just trying to remember Len's name?"

"I don't know, I was hoping you'd know more." Coryo sighs, reaching for the bedside drawer. He had written down what he remembered from the dates and times, because he did want to ask you about it. "But he's been leaving and coming back at odd hours, he won't tell me what he's doing. Is he with Lucy Gray?"

"I don't think so." You frown, shaking your head. "But they have been getting close."

"But that doesn't really feel relevant to the note, or your brother."

"No... It certainly doesn't seem that way."

"Here, so... I wrote it down. Uh... The Hob, August seventeenth at ten pm, and broken fence August eighteenth at four am." He reads off what he remembered enough from the note to write down.

You tilt your head.

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"Well, on the seventeenth The Covey is performing at the Hob, so maybe he planned on going to that." You explain. "But broken fence... there's so many of those around here I couldn't tell you. Although, four am is an incredibly odd time to be meeting anyone."

"That's three hours before our train leaves."

"Oh." You shake your head slightly. "That's very weird."

"I know." Coryo sighs. "He won't tell me either, I've asked if he has any plans that night and he said no."

"Well... We should go." You offer. "Tell him that we're going to the meadow that night, and we'll just go after him. See who he's with."

Coryo raises his eyebrows at you. "I didn't take you for the nosy type."

"Well, I'm a big sister at heart and if it possibly involves Lennox I have to know." You argue. "It could be dangerous. He's always had a few friends I didn't love."

"Are you okay to go back there? I can go without you." He offers.

"I'll be fine." You insist. It's more so out of necessity, you have no choice but to be fine. You have to know- you have to make sure your brother and friend are safe.

"Are you sure about this?" Coryo asks, stopping you outside the entrance to the Hob. "If you want to go home I can take you, I just want you to feel safe."

"I know." You give him a small, reassuring smile as you squeeze his hand. "If I need to leave I'll tell you. I promise."

He nods, taking one last look at you to make sure you still seem okay before he pushes the door open and you both head in.

The building is buzzing- as it usually is when The Covey performs. You smile at the music, letting Coryo pull you close to the side wall as he scans the crowded room for his friend.

"Do you see him?" You ask, and he somehow hears you over the music and shakes his head.

You frown, looking around as well. No sign of Sejanus, no sign of Lennox. Lennox isn't even old enough to be here, but he wasn't at home when you left- and it's not exactly hard to sneak in.

"There," Coryo says, nodding in the direction of the opposite side of the room. You follow his eyes, and spot Sejanus talking to someone you recognize. "Who's he with?"

"Spruce." You explain. "His sister is scheduled to be executed tomorrow afternoon." You add, leaning closer so no one else will hear.

You watch as they head toward the back hall, the same one you ran down just a couple of weeks ago. "Should we go after them?" You ask when Coryo doesn't reply and he nods, watching them as he pulls you down the outside wall toward them.

You make it back to the hall without Lucy Gray spotting you, as far as you can tell. Standing outside the door, you hear shouting. You watch Coryo as he clenches his jaw, shaking his head.

"Wait out here." He tells you, dropping your hand.

"No- I, I should come." You shake your head and he grabs your cheeks, lifting your head to look into your eyes.

"I don't know what they're fighting about but it doesn't sound good. Wait out here." He's stern as he gently brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. "Listen to Lucy Gray, just watch the door. Okay, love?"

"Okay." You agree quietly, slightly nodding.

He kisses your forehead before letting you go, taking a deep breath before pushing the door open and disappearing behind it.

You chew your nails as you wait with your ear to the door, trying to decipher who is inside with them. It's hard to tell with all the shouting going on, but you hadn't heard Lennox.

"Y/N." You hear your name, quickly jumping back from the door and turning to face the voice. "What are you doin' here?"

You chew your cheek, trying to avoid Cole's gaze. "Just waitin' for Lucy Gray." You lie, looking down.

"Ah." He hums, nodding slightly as he steps closer to you. "Where's your purebred Capitol attack dog?"

"What are you doing here, Cole?" You ask, ignoring his question.

"We got leave passes for the weekend." He answers. "Hoff said something about 'boosting morale'."

"That's nice." You smile nervously. "Well, I don't want to keep you, so..."

"You aren't." He smirks, tilting his head as he looks down at you. "I'm not gonna hurt ya, you know that, right?"

"I know." You say softly.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

"Cole..." You sigh, looking down again. "We talked about this I just... We're too different. I'm sorry."

"Oh, because you have so much more in common with that prick- right?" He laughs sarcastically. "He's Capitol! He'll never know you like I do. Honestly, I'm offended that you'd choose him over me."

"I'm not choosing him over you." You frown. "I already knew we wouldn't work before I ever met him. This is very, very different. I'm sorry."

"You are? Oh, I'm glad to hear that." He nods and you eye him suspiciously. "Maybe then after he leaves, you'll give me another chance. He's taking the next train, tomorrow morning, right?"

"I can't do that, Cole." You shake your head.

"That's an awful shame." The evil smile on his face doesn't fade. "I'll have no choice but to report your father."

Your heart drops. "My Pa hasn't done anything."

He sucks in through his teeth. "Well, suspicion is enough to charge, and I don't know... I get a bit of an off feeling from him. It's actually my duty to report any suspicions we have, so honestly I've been protecting you, and I'd like to keep doing that, you know?"

You finally picked up on what he was saying, and immediately could taste the bitterness of fear on your tongue, a metallic tang that seemed to linger in the air.

"So? Do we have a date?"

"Sure." You mutter through gritted teeth.

"Sweet, thanks for finally coming to your senses, bug." Cole smiles, patting your shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon!" He calls back as he walks away.

You don't even care what's going on inside, you can't be alone in this dark hallway anymore.

You pull the door open and rush in, but you're quickly stopped by Coryo's arm as he takes a few steps back, pushing you behind him. "What- what's-"

"She can't be in here!" Spruce spits at Coryo as you look past him, gasping at the sight of several guns on the table and the one in his arms.

"Listen, she's not involved." Sejanus promises.

"Her brother is gonna help us, it's cool. She won't tell." You look at Billy Taupe when he speaks, eyes wide.

"No- this is crazy." Mayfair shakes her head. "She's not coming with us. We're not bringing her or Lucy Gray. I'm leaving."

"No, they aren't coming. I just said I'd ask. Now she knows, so she probably should." Billy Taupe replies and your eyes flick between the couple. You had no idea what was going on, where he wanted you to go, and what this had to do with Sejanus or your brother.

"No! My daddy will have you all strung up for this." She throws her hands up and starts to walk toward the back door. Your heart is pounding in your chest as Coryo reaches for one of the guns.

"Don't!" You cry out, forcing yourself in front of him just as he aims the gun at her. At you.

"Y/N, you gotta move right now." He says quickly, and you hear her footsteps stop behind you.

You can only look at his eyes as they flit between anger, instinct, and fear.

"Coryo." You say, voice cracking and it's only then that you feel the tears dampening your cheeks.

The barrel of the gun is under an inch from your chest, and you can see his hands shaking as he holds the heavy weapon in his hands. He won't shoot you- he won't.

The world around you seems to blur as your focus narrows on the overwhelming sense of fear gripping you tightly. Right now, if someone asked where you were, you wouldn't know. You just as easily could have been standing in the arena. 

He doesn't dare move as he stares at you, eyes wide. He doesn't want to hurt you, but that's why he has to do this. He can't let whoever that girl was have you killed. Still, you stand in front of him. Shaking, but not moving. This was the girl he knew from the games who offered a rose to Coral who in the moments before was threatening her. The girl who so thoroughly hated the idea of bringing harm to others that her own mind blocked it out completely and replaced the story with something else. This was the girl who was willing to give up her life just to be able to give the other tributes an honourable burial that she knew they wouldn't otherwise receive. 

The girl who saw him kill another boy and despite all of that, still had it in her heart to forgive him.

You don't even hear Mayfair laugh and begin to walk away again, you only hear the gunshot that follows. You jump, immediately looking down to assess the damage. Coryo wasn't pointing the gun at you anymore, he had dropped his arms in defeat- and you had mistaken the loud noise for an impact you were expecting.

He didn't shoot you.

"What did you do?" You turn as Billy Taupe screams, eyes widening as you see Mayfair bleeding out on the floor.

"Oh god- oh god..." You mumble, stepping back until you bump into Coryo. He drops the gun back onto the table, pulling you into his arms.

"Don't look, don't look..." He tells you, turning you and pressing your head to his chest so you can't see anymore even if you wanted to.

You can't even make out what Spruce and Billy Taupe are yelling at each other over the sound of your blood pumping through your veins. Until the second gunshot.

You must be sobbing now, clinging onto the front of Coryo's shirt so tight your knuckles are burning. "You're okay, it's okay." He tells you. You don't know what's going on- you don't want to.

Coryo stares between Spruce and the body of Billy Taupe now slumped down next to Mayfair. He needs to get you out of here, now, but he doesn't know how. This has to be handled first.

He's letting you go only to grab your cheeks and get you to look at him. "Go back outside, you have to go back outside, I will handle this."

You can't even speak- can't even move. You try and shake your head. You couldn't leave him, not right now. You feel like you'd die the moment he ceased touching you.

The door slides open again, followed by an angry voice you know too well. "What the fuck?" Cole must have been watching you. He must have heard.

"No..." You cry, shaking your head. If Cole saw this you were absolutely all screwed.

"What the fuck did you do?" Cole shouts again. "Nobody fucking move! You're all-"

Another gunshot. Silence.

"Oh no, no, no..." You try and look behind Coryo but he doesn't let you, holding your head firmly into his chest again.

"It's okay. Don't look." He says again, staring at Sejanus who looks like he's panicking just as much as you are now.

"Why'd you tell them where we were? Now you've gone and screwed us all over! I just shot a peacekeeper!"

"He didn't tell anyone." Coryo defends him. "We followed him, Cole followed us."

"Fuck." Spruce sighs, throwing the gun onto the pile of others still laid across the table. "We gotta bump this up. We have to get Lil now, go tell Lennox to get the stuff and hide it for us like we said."

"Get rid of the guns and pretend this never happened."Coryo hisses. "And leave the kid out of this. It's too late for whatever plan you had now- we don't know where he is."

You can't even hear a single thing going on anymore. You're actually sure you might faint.

When you go from shaking to completely still in Coryo's arms, he knows you have. "Shit..." He mumbles, trying to steady you as your knees give out. He quickly readjusts so he can lift you with an arm under your knees and the other under your back.

"I gotta get her out of here and you have to move quick. Get rid of the guns. Now." He instructs, and surprisingly, Spruce listens. He throws the weapons into a bag and steps over the two bodies by the door before leaving.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Sejanus cries, gripping onto his hair and breathing heavily. "No one was supposed to get hurt!"

"Sejanus, for once just shut up!" He grabs his attention from where his friend is staring at the dead couple, clearly losing his mind. Coryo doesn't have time for this- an unconscious girl in his arms and his friend looking like he's about to be in the same state in a matter of moments.

"It's all my fault..."

"All of this is your fault!" Coryo agrees, looking around at the mess of the room. "It's only gonna get worse if you don't pull yourself together."

"Oh, god..."

"If you breathe a word now, all three of us are finished. Just like in the arena. We came here to see her. If we go down, she goes with us." He holds you tighter to his chest as your hair falls over the curve of his arm, your head limp against his skin. "So now we have to go back to the house, gather all our shit, and act like nothing is wrong. We have to board the train tomorrow like nothing is wrong. Do you understand?"

"I- I don't know." Sejanus sniffs.

"Hey." Coryo says, taking a few steps closer. "Look at me. You have to pull it together. I know you wanted to go with them but now they aren't going. We've got to stick together. You won't get in trouble. I won't let anything happen to you, but you have to listen to me." It was obvious that it didn't matter that none of you pulled the trigger- being in the room was enough; especially when a peacekeeper had been murdered. If you were caught, you'd all be executed. "We're brothers, yeah? Brothers. Whatever you've done, I swear I will keep you safe."

"Brothers. Yeah." Sejanus mutters, still obviously in shock.

"Those guns were the only loose ends besides the four of us, so we're gonna be okay as long as we leave tomorrow." He breathes. "Okay? Not a word."

"O-Okay." Sejanus nods slightly, trying to keep his focus on the boy in front of him rather than their unconscious friend in his arms.

Coryo tried to give him a reassuring smile, but inside he was panicking too. They could escape it all on the train tomorrow, but now came the problem of what to do with you.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[faelynwrites]

Most Gothamites, when presented with the pitch-black silhouette of a Bat in their window, reacted one of two ways. Criminals, if they were smart, would normally break into a sprint for the nearest exit. Civilians tended to scream, and stammer out some variation of "What do you want?"

Selina Kyle was not exactly an average Gothamite. Where others saw mysterious and dark spirits of justice, she saw her on-and-off-again (currently off) boyfriend and his gaggle of children, both legal and otherwise. So, when she crossed from her kitchen to her living room—mug of tea in hand—and caught glimpse a scowling shadow in her window, she merely gave a small flinch and raised a hand to calm her racing heart.

With a quiet huff, Selina walked to the window and unlatched it. "Honestly Cassandra," she scolded, as her pseudo-stepdaughter climbed inside. "Would it kill you to knock?"

Cass shrugged and pulled off her mask. "I'm mad at Bruce," she said in lieu of an answer. "Can I stay here?"

One might assume that her (current) ex's kids might hold a grudge against her for dumping the man who'd taken them in, but in reality it just seemed to encourage them. Selina swore she actually saw some of them more when she and Bruce were fighting. So Selina wasn't exactly surprised to hear that her visitor was upset with her father. It did raise another question though, "I thought you and Stephanie were living together."

Cass shrugged again, glancing at her feet. "Things are... weird, with Steph, right now."

Well that was cryptic. Selina knew better than to try and push the issue, however. "You can stay in the guest bedroom if you like," she offered. "I think you still have clothes in the dresser, from last time."

"Thanks," Cass said, the tension leaving her shoulders. After a momentary pause, she shuffled off in the direction of the guest room, while Selina went to go put some more water on to boil. Originally, her plan had been to curl up in bed with her tea and a good book. But she was nothing if not flexible, and she certainly wasn't one to turn away one of her ex's kids.

Not long after she'd set the kettle onto the burner, Selina's phone began to ring with a quiet buzzing. He was late. She stepped over to the counter, where her phone lay face-down and glanced at the contact as she raised it to her ear. "Yes, she's with me. No, I'm not sending her home. No, you cannot come get her."

There was a pause, then a long sigh distorted by static. "Did she tell you what happened?"

Selina turned to lean back against the island counter and watch the stove. "Only that she's mad at you."

"She and Stephanie were talking-" Bruce started, but Selina quickly cut him off.

"With all due respect," she said, "which is none, by the way, I don't care what they were doing. She came here because she didn't want to see you, and I'm going to respect that." Then she registered what he'd said, and scowled. "And even if I did, talking? That's a punishable offense now?"

"It was a surveillance mission," Bruce defended. "They should have been paying attention to the target, not each other."

Selina took a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of her nose. She exhaled slowly, pushing her frustrations out with the breath, then opened her eyes and looked up to the ceiling. Bruce was silent throughout the process, waiting patiently. Eventually, Selina said, "You're too hard on them. Sometimes, I think you forget they're children."

"If they want to be out in the field-"

"I'm not talking about training," Selina interrupted. "I'm talking about being their father. When's the last time you told them you loved them? Any of them?"

"Don't make this about us-"

"It's not about us," Selina snapped. "It's about you, and your refusal to express even the slightest bit of emotion!" Then she stopped, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose again.

Once again, Bruce waited until she was done before speaking. "I don't mean to," he said quietly. "You know that."

"I know," Selina sighed. It was the only reason she kept going back to him. The tragic brokenness of it all. The delusional hope that she could fix him. And for a time, it would seem to work. But then some big case would come along, and he'd let himself get drawn in, and he'd forget how to be a person again.

With a shrill whistle, the teakettle reached boiling and Selina moved to take it off the burner. "Just, try to tell them every once in a while. Schedule it, if you have to. But tell them. A child needs to know their father loves them."

"I will," Bruce promised and, it was a start. "Let me know when Cassandra is ready to come home. Please."

"I will," Selina sighed. She ended the call and braced her arms against the counter, leaning heavily against it. Then, with a deep breath, she stood up and opened her tea cupboard for a second mug and a bag of Assam.

[theocddiaries]

Sonic: Oh, careful, here comes Mr. Polite himself… Robotnik: What do you mean by that, you rat? Shadow: That your vocabulary consists mostly of insults. Robotnik: What are you talking about, you failed experiment piece of crap?! When have I ever disrespected anyone? Name one single time! FLASHBACKS 1. Robotnik: Let me explain it to you. You’re dumb, I’m smart. You have power, I steal it. You now have to fix the mess I made using that stolen power, and I step aside while plotting how to ruin your day tomorrow. You think, "what a bastard the fat guy is," and I tell you, "exactly," because it was embarrassing how long it was taking you to understand the dynamic, Shadow. 2. [Shadow is lying on a stretcher, struggling to breathe.] Robotnik: Good news. Sonic: Can you help him? Robotnik: No, I have no bloody idea how this guy works. Sonic: Then what’s the good news?! Robotnik: Well, didn’t he have a death wish? Congratulations, Shadow, today your dreams will come true. 3. [Rouge and Sonic gift their Chao to Shadow.] Rouge: Shadoooow, look what we got for you~ Shadow: Ugh, I told you I don’t want-- Aw, it looked at me. It’s mine now. [takes the Chao and pets it.] Robotnik [passes by, freezes when he sees the Chao]: Holy crap, it’s multiplying! [Eggman throws a can at the Chao, sending it flying and bouncing from the impact. Shadow yelps and goes to see if it's okay] Robotnik: You're welcome! And you owe me a soda! 4. Robotnik: Good morning, Commander Towers. What do you need me for? To tell you the time? Let me see… Well, look for yourself. Yes, sir, a solid gold watch. Earned dishonorably, unlike you, who hires zoo animals to avoid paying the bare minimum a human would charge. Rouge [frowning alongside Shadow]: Eggman, we’re right here. Robotnik: And the peanuts they pay you with are over there. [Laughs in their faces.] 5. [Shadow is collecting signatures. Eggman approaches angrily, grabs the papers, and tears them to pieces.] Robotnik: You! Traitor! Collecting signatures to get me kicked off the island, huh?! You ungrateful wretch! If it weren’t for me, you’d still be a frozen popsicle! Shadow: …Ivo, first of all, you did that for yourself, like everything else. Maybe that’s why they want you gone. And second, this isn’t the petition to kick you out. I was collecting signatures for a charity event to help the children’s hospital. Robotnik: Oh… well, sorry, I didn’t realize you were on one of your karma-burning stupid stuff. I knew that even with our differences, you wouldn’t participate in that. Shadow [hands over some laminated pages]: Oh, no, I did participate. Here are all the signatures to officially kick you out. Robotnik: What?! [takes the pages and starts hitting Shadow in the face with the laminated papers like a fan.]: I curse the hour, minute, second, and millisecond my grandfather thought it’d be a good idea to teach you how to speak and write!!!!! 6. Sonic: No way, I’m not doing anything with this guy. I bet I won’t even take a single step before he throws me down the stairs. Robotnik: Hey, that’s offensive, Sonic. This is a mess that affects all of us. I’ve got robots and a daughter waiting for me at home, you know? Sonic: Well, yeah, but… Robotnik: But what? So much talk, so little action. You love saying everyone deserves a chance to get applause, but when it really matters… Sonic: Alright, you’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s go-- [Sonic starts going down the stairs. Robotnik shoves him, and Sonic tumbles down while Robotnik laughs hysterically, to the point of tears]. Robotnik: Hahaha! Oh my God! [to the rest of the group]: I swear on everything, I meant it. I wasn’t going to do it! But he looked at me with that dumb innocent face, and I couldn’t resist! Hahahahaha!!!! PRESENT Robotnik: …I said one time. How are you supposed to understand my sense of humor when you can’t even understand a simple question? I feel so intellectually lonely…

[mintkookiess]

I like you, okay?!

A/N: Fluff fluff just fluff after the whole fiasco with "It's Always Been Her." (I need to recover from it)

Anyways, enjoy!

Love,

Mint

POV: Miles comes into your room at 3 am unexpectedly :3

Tags: Miles Morales x reader, slight cussing, LOTS OF FLUFF, sassy annoyed reader, confessions

Word count: 1k

At around 3 am, your phone started dinging, making you groggily grab your phone from the bedside table.

The sudden light from the screen made you wince. "Why the fuck is Miles texting me, it’s too late for this.” You groaned as you clicked on the unread message from him.

Hey Y/n, can I come over real quick?

You clicked your tongue in frustration, placing a hand over your eyes, and rubbed softly in a poor attempt to wake yourself up before looking back down to type the shortest possible reply that you could muster at the time.

Sure.

After hitting the send button, you huffed, chucking your phone across the bed.

As your eyes start to close once more, a soft stealthy tapping at the window makes you open your eyes again, making you grumble from great annoyance at how your best friend always found the worst times to sneak into your bedroom.

Spiderman or not, this was plain fucking torture.

"Are you ready?~" You hear a muffled voice as the window opened wider. "Oh God, please no." You groaned, throwing a pillow over your face. This was your last attempt to just drown him out, but apparently, nothing is going your way tonight. 

You hear the soft padding of feet, accompanied by the familiar thwip sound of his web-shooters, swinging himself into your bedroom with a soft thud and faintly landing on his feet.

"What do you want Miles?" You said with your voice muffled by the pillow. "I know this might be a horrible time to ask, but do you think I could stay for a while?" He asked with a sheepish smile. Miles stood by your bed, awaiting your response.

You nonchalantly wave your hand off at him, eager to just get this over with. "Do whatever you want man." 

Miles' eyes glistened in delight. "You're so kind tonight, what's changed?" His stupid ass question just made you want to throw him out the window.

You didn't respond, too exhausted to even think of a sassy remark. It was literally 3 in the morning, you did not have time for his antics. 

However, he merely chuckled at your lack of a reaction as his lips curved into his usual smile. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a night owl. What with patrol and all that, but I couldn't go without seeing you. Your eyes have been haunting my dreams..." He trailed off.

"Ah yes, it's me being your sleep paralysis demon telling you to stop bothering me at such an ungodly hour." You replied sarcastically, finally removing the pillow from your face as it started to give you a hard time breathing. 

You turned to lay on your side and looked up at him, clearly unimpressed. It was just too late for this shit. 

Miles sees this, and suddenly gets defensive, sitting on the edge of your bed across from you. "Maybe if you weren't always so busy with classes—"

He suddenly stopped talking as he realizes what he said. Miles' face slowly turned red and he was internally hoping to all the gods existing that you wouldn't spot it from the darkness of your room. 

Ah, maybe I should just jump out of the window. He thought as he took a deep breath in, his fingers tapping against his thigh anxiously. "I like you, okay?!" He quickly said, nervously looking up at you. 

"You... WHAT?!" You suddenly yelled, causing you to sit up in shock, mouth agape and eyes widened. What the hell is this guy on about now?! And at 3 FUCKING AM?

"Okay okay, I know. Totally stupid to just jump the gun here but it's so hard to sleep. Sometimes I lose focus when I'm being Spiderman. I spend an awful lot of time thinking about you. Y-You're funny, kind, smart, all the things I like in a person." Miles rambled on, not even daring to stare directly into your eyes for fear of seeing your reaction to his sudden confession.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing. "Is this why you deliberately tried to be my lab partner when I was new at school?" To which Miles' nervous expression became that of a guilty one.

"Maybe..." He admits, his voice sounding even less confident than before.

"Don't you like that Gwen girl from our class? I would've assumed because you two are literally so close." The guy in front of you only shrinks further into himself, feeling his heart sink and his face fall. "Gwen's like a sister to me. She isn't you." He said with a slight emphasis that really sounded more like a whine. 

Miles' words are slow but honest. His eyes trail up to the wall behind you to try to keep a brave face, which was slowly crumbling by the minute.

You snuck a glance at him before exhaling loudly. You flip your fingers back and forth, signaling him to come closer. "I guess you can cuddle with me." You mumbled, ignoring the way your cheeks are heating up. 

Not even wanting to see his reaction, you place your blanket back over your entire body, laying back down on your bed, facing the wall and away from him.

He seemed surprised, and his face instantly lit up. Miles let out a happy gasp as he grabs your blanket gently, climbing underneath it as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist and snuggles up against your back. He even mustered the courage to bury his nose in your hair. 

Miles' heart was beating erratically, rendering him absolutely speechless as he held on to you as if his life depended on it. Well, it was a dream come true for the poor boy. He'd been practicing how he'd confess to you for the last three months. 

"You do know that you're going to have to work hard to get my 'yes' right?" You mumbled, trying to use every ounce of energy left in your body to numb the way his arm around your waist made you feel. "I'm fine with that," Miles quickly replied, his words soft and comforting. 

"As long as I can be with you, in any capacity, I am content." He chuckled. Shortly after the two of you slowly drifted off to sleep, still in each other's arms. Or more like, you were still in his arms.

Fin.

See more of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

[rerefundslocals]

ADORE YOU [J.JK]

Summary: jungkook just wants to cook for you and love on you as a newly married couple.

>>pairing: husband!jungkook x wife!reader (she/her)

>>trope: established relationship

>>genre: fluff, fluff and fluff

>>word count: 917

>>warnings/tags: jungkook is just cheesy, mentions of jungkooks past with cooking(that one run bts ep), some tears of LOVE and Joy, short brief kisses, they're just vv cute :( lmk if I missed anything!

a/n - welll, uhm, I liked the live but damn bro at 4am? 😭 anyway, please enjoy this short piece of work, I'll be gone for a while. Please send feedback through reblogs or asks, it helps authors stay very motivated <333 {work is not proofread}

{Listen to 'Adore you' by Harry Styles as this is inspired by the song.}

~★~

"You don't have to say,you love me

You don't have say nothing

You don't have to say ,you're mine

Honey, I'll walk through fire for you

Just let me Adore You."

•★•♥︎•★•♥︎•

"You're gonna cook for me?"

"Of course. who else is gonna cook for my wifey?" Jungkook leans down at your figure sitting on the couch, placing a peck on your lips.

You both had just got back from your honeymoon and this is the first night in your shared home, and after a whole day of grocery shopping, Jungkook had decided to stand up and make a meal for you both.

You simply chuckle at his antics, deep down feeling a wave of worry as the last time Jungkook had cooked for you both, the food had stuck onto the plate.

"McDonald's can cook for us too, Kook and it'll be ready in no more than 30minutes." You suggest, hoping he would catch on.

But he doesn't.

"No, that's very unhealthy, we had nothing but unhealthy food during our honeymoon, so let's have something different. Hmm, Wifey?" He asks, head tilting to the side as he awaits your answer.

Looking at him draped in his White Nike shirt, that you suppose he got from Japan and his Grey Joggers ; you pout at him, hoping to persuade him.

Sighing you let out, "argh, fine. Promise you won't poison me?" As your response.

Fists meeting the air in victory and a funny walk that has him tilting to the side all the way to the kitchen, he let's out a strained response, "Don't worry, Princess! You're in good hands."

"Okay, My Prince Charming!" You shout back.

During the time that you scroll through the smart TV and your phone, it's clear to hear the tunes your Husband sings in the kitchen and it has you smiling from ear to ear.

What a beautiful voice he has. And he can sing to you all day and night, cause he adores you that much.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when Jungkook hardly places the pot on the countertop, making you flinch at the sudden hit.

"Come, Princess!" He ushers.

You walk to the kitchen, dressed in something similar as him. Grey sweats and a oversized Prada shirt that belongs to Jungkook, while your hair is styled the way you like.

"Hmm, what's this, baby?" You question, peering at the meal in the pot.

He smiles at you, feeling proud and it had you feeling shy because of how he stares into your eyes when he explains.

"So, Princess. This is my famous Seaweed rice, with fried rice mix along with chicken breasts mixed in with sesame oil, soy sauce and gochujang. And that all for my Wifey." He finishes, lips meeting yours for a loving peck and when he pulls away, you almost want to dive right in for more.

Deciding to tease him, you walk closer to him, hands going around his neck, playing with the hair by his neck. In response his hands wrap around your waist as they rest above your ass.

"Am I the only one you've cooked this for? Just asking since it's so 'famous'."

"Yes, Baby. I used to eat this in college before I met your pretty ass." He responds coyly, Smirking at you, gaze never leaving your figure.

"Mhm okay, l-let's eat." You stutter.

You quickly let go of him, feeling hot all of a sudden as you grab a spoon to eat.

"Wait- let me show you how to eat it." Jungkook stops you, gently taking the spoon out of your hand.

He scoops some rice first and goes over to the pot, scooping his mix into it as well, and when he's done with that, he brings it up your lips, ushering you to open your mouth.

"Open, Princess."

You can't help but ask, "you sure this ain't poisoned, Mr Jeon?"

"Yes, Mrs Jeon. Now eat, you look very hungry, my angel." He chuckles.

You open your mouth to where the spoon can enter and he shoves the food into your mouth.

You chew it up, savoring the flavors, while Jungkook watches with doe desperate eyes waiting for your- preferably praises and compliments to his food.

Lowering the hand covering your mouth as you swallow, you dramatically wipe your hands, head nodding like a food critic.

"Its so good! Give me more." You burst into giggles as you watched Jungkooks eyes relax when you give him a compliment as loud as that.

He questions, "it's good, baby?"

You nod at him as you scoop the mix onto your rice, "soo good! Cook this for us everytime okay?"

Jungkook nods at you, making a cute noise with his mouth as he joins you, eating from the pot.

He feels very happy at this moment with his newlywed wife, in the kitchen eating from their newly purchased pots, in their newly purchased home that they worked very hard for.

"I adore you so much." He whispers in your ear, making you shiver from the baritone in his voice.

You shyly cower as you swallow the last bits of your food, "really?" You look up at the taller figure, staring deep into your eyes.

"Really. I love you so much, Mrs Jeon. Thank you for allowing me to be your husband."

"Aww, Kook. You're gonna make me cry- !I love you more." Tears build up at the corner of your eyes and you hide them by kissing Jungkook senseless.

It's not filled with tongue or the desire for sex, just filled with love and feelings.

Cause in this moment he just wants to adore you and you want to adore him too.

~♥︎~

All rights reserved @rerefundslocals. Do not copy my work, I'll find you.

[loverslantern]

The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Dean gets a second chance to right a wrong from his past when they get a mysterious tip from his father about a case they'd worked years ago.

Warnings: Cannon violence

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @ada--44 @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @crazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred

Word Count: 9,145

Something Wicked

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch, Outfit Board)

The boys bicker back and forth rapidly. “Yeah. You probably missed something, that’s what,” Dean argues. Nothing truly brings out an argument like their Dad and his directions. “Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, and I couldn’t find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?” Sam spits back. 

“Yeah, I double-checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important Sammy.” “Well, I'm telling you I looked and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us  hunting for something I don't know what.” “Well maybe he's going to meet us there,” Dean suggests. However, I thought it was pretty clear their Dad didn’t want to interact with them again until it was all over, safety and such. “Yeah. Cause he's been so easy to find up to this point.” “You're a real smart ass you know that?.... Don't worry I'm sure there's something in Fitchburg worth killing.” “Yeah? What makes you so sure?” “Cause I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right,” Dean smirks.

“Dude, no it doesn’t,” I chime in, “That holds no merit.”

“It totally does,” he retorts, “And I’d know, I’m the oldest.”

“Yeah, by two years,” I point out, catching his eye in the mirror, “So don’t get ahead of yourself there, cowboy.” But he just shrugs, that smug smile on his lips, “Those years make all the difference. ‘Cause guess what….” he pauses, “I’m still older.”

A slight breeze rustles through the trees. It’s chillier today than it had been the last couple of days. Gloomier too. The clouds seem to swallow the sky with a gray hue. The town is bare and quiet as if the clouds had drawn them away. Even the playground is empty.

A warm drink is nudged into my hands, pulling me from my thoughts as my chilled fingers find their way around the to-go cup that Dean settles there. He leans his head down, his eyes catch mine before he releases the cup into my possession. His green eyes are serious, eyebrows pinched together just slightly, a silent question. A small smile breaks on my lips as I give a gentle nod, confirming I’m okay. I’m unsure why he decided to check up on me but God is he lovely regardless of how simple the action was. “Well…the waitress thinks the local Freemasons are up to something sneaky but other than that no one’s heard about anything freaky going on,” Dean informs, joining our leaning against the Impala. 

I hum in recognition, taking a careful sip of the hot liquid encased in my cup, “Today’s not a holiday, is it?” I ask. 

“No,” Dean answers, “Why?”

“Look at the time,” Sam points out, seemingly picking up on my point too. The older Winchester lifts his wrist up, looking at his watch, “Ten after four….” his eyes follow to where Sam directs. A lone girl in a pink sweater and pigtails climbs on a bare playground. No other children around, hell, no other adults around except for the woman who must be the young girl's guardian sitting on a bench. “…School’s out isn’t it?” Dean asks, connecting the dots. 

“Mhm,” I hum, “But where are the kids?” 

“This place should be crawling with them,” Sam adds. 

Dean takes that as his sign to step forward. He places a hand on my upper arm, nodding his head in the direction of the barren park, silently beckoning me to join him. I comply, moving with him across the dead street to the park. Carefully, we approach the woman who sits on a park bench, her magazine coming into view. “Sure is quiet out here,” Dean announces, gaining the woman’s attention. She looks up from her reading, “Yeah, it’s a shame.”

“What happened?” I ask softly, knowing it has to be something serious for it to be like this. “You know, kids getting sick, it’s a terrible thing,” she says, a frown pulling on the corner of her mouth. Yet, the way her eyes become locked on her child, the way something like worry flashes in her eyes hints this is more than the common cold or flu. “How many?” Dean asks, his voice rather solemn. 

“Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it’s catching,” she explains. And there it is, the likely reason why we’re here. 

The Hospital reeks of, well, hospital. The clean yet almost sickly smell and the bright fluorescent lights wouldn’t suggest any foul play, or that a horrible sickness was hospitalizing kids. I’m not sure if I want this to be our sort of case or not, on one hand, if it is then we can solve it and maybe fix this mess but if it isn’t then it’s on the doctors to think of something to help, except if they can’t; then we’re all helpless. “Dude,” Sam hits his brother's shoulder, “Dude, I am not using this ID,” he complains even though we’re already here, already clad in professional clothes. “Why not?” Dean counters.

“‘Cause it says bikini inspector on it!” Sam grumbles, eyes fluttering every which way to make sure no one heard him. He holds up the ID in question, his little photo next to a normal name, and an insane job position. I haven’t a clue where Dean even produced this from. “Do you want me to use mine?” I ask, ready to save him the trouble and embarrassment. 

“Please,” he answers, shoulders deflating. 

“No, no,” Dean pauses us, “He’s a big boy he can do it himself. She won’t look that close, alright?” he grins, “Hell, she won’t even ask to see it. It’s all about confidence Sammy.” He takes his brother's shoulders, spins him around, and lightly pushes him towards the receptionist's desk. I give Dean a pointed look, “That was just cruel,” I say. But, he just smiles that stupid shit-eating grin. Far more amused than he ought to be. 

It’s hardly ten seconds since Sam is at the reception desk when he holds up his ID for the lady. His brother snickers beside me and doesn’t let up even when Sam throws him a dirty look over his shoulder. If anything it worsens his laughing fit, having to drag a hand down his mouth. Soon after Sam is walking towards us with his classic bitchface and a slight pink hue on his cheeks, “See. I told you it would work,” Dean grins wildly. 

Sam huffs, shaking his head as he glares daggers at his brother, “Follow me. It’s upstairs.”

                               ****

An older man with black hair and tired eyes, the doctor, leads us down a corridor, “Well, thanks for seeing us, Dr. Hydecker,” Dean says. And I have to admit the doctor’s name reminds me so much of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, even if there isn’t any correlation. “Well, I’m glad you guys are here. I was just about to call the CDC myself,” the Doctor informs, “How’d you find out anyways?”

“Oh some GP, I forget his name, he called Atlanta and, uh, he must’ve beat you to the punch,” Dean lies seamlessly. Maybe it is all about confidence, or maybe he just has too much practice. 

“So, you say you got six cases so far?” Sam asks, getting right to the heart of it.

“Yeah, five weeks. At first, we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia,” he informs, all doctor words for typical or common pneumonia, “Not that newsworthy. But now…” 

“Yeah?” I ask.

“The kids aren’t responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems just aren’t doing their job. It’s like their bodies are….” his voice grows softer, “wearing out.”

“Have you started exploring other ideas?,” I point out, crossing my arms across my chest. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get a chance to answer as a petite brunette nurse approaches with some paperwork, “Excuse me, Dr. Hyecker,” she says, handing him the forms. 

“To answer your question,” he says, peering up from the forms, “We are trying to explore other possibilities but I’ve never seen something this severe before.”

“And the way it spreads…” the nurse adds, sighing, “that’s a new one for me.”

“How so?” I ask.

“It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after another,” she explains and it only affirms that this must be our sort of case. As far as I’m aware no sickness works like that, nor should. Sickness doesn’t target certain age groups, which is not to say that certain age groups can’t be more susceptible to illness. But, with six cases which is likely more than two families the statistical chance of the parents not being affected lowers. And the fact that it almost strategically moves from sibling to sibling…It has to be our case. “‘You mind if we interview a few of the kids?” Dean asks. 

“They’re not conscious,” the nurse answers. 

“None of them?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised in shock.

“No,” she says simply, a frown pulling on her lips. It only makes this all the more concerning. 

“Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?” Dean tries instead. 

“Well, if you think it’ll help,” Dr. Hydecker responds a little strangely. Why wouldn’t it help? 

“Yeah. Who was your most recent admission?” Dean asks.

                          ****

The man in front of us slouches in his chair, his eyes tired and filled with so much sorrow and fear. He holds his jacket between his legs, his hands fidgeting, and that expression seems to burn itself into my mind. The kind of look reserved for parents who worry for their kids, sick or not. “I should get back to my girls,” he insists, his voice thick with emotion.

“We’re really sorry about this all, and having to put you through this questioning. We’ll make it quick I promise,” I say softly, offering sympathy that would not fix the situation he’s going through. “Now, you say Mary is the oldest?” Sam asks, matching the solemn mood of the hospital. 

“Thirteen,” he confirms. 

“Okay. And she came down with it first, right?” Sam asks, “And then…” 

“Bethany, the next night.”

“Within 24 hours?” Sam pushes. 

“I guess,” he shrugs and it’s apparent he’s going through too much to truly focus on this conversation, “Look, I, uh, I already went through all this with the doctor.”

“Just a few more questions if you don’t mind,” Dean urges, “How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?” 

“No. We think it was an open window,” he answers. Yet, I do not attempt to suggest that it isn’t just pneumonia at play let alone that it’s unlikely that an open window by itself could cause something like this. But I’m not a doctor. “Both times?” Dean questions.

“The first time, I— I don’t really remember but the second time for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed,” he replies. 

“So you think she opened it?” Sam asks.

“It’s a second-story window with a ledge. No one else could’ve,” he puts it plainly, a sharp edge to his voice. 

                                    ****

Back down the corridor, we go, leaving the father to worry over his kids. God, this situation was so messed up. “You know this might not be anything supernatural. It might just be pneumonia,” Sam points out.

Immediately I’m shaking my head, “I don’t know for sure if this is supernatural but it certainly isn’t just pneumonia. Speaking of which, I don’t like the doctor.”

“Why?” Dean asks.

“Well, he’s either a sucky doctor or just not well-equipped for this case. I don’t know why he’s not already exploring new options or calling in experts when the conditions are worsening and they aren’t reacting to antibiotics. Let alone why he’s not doing more testing. I get not wanting to do anything intrusive to kids this young and with how low their white blood cells are, but, God, we’ve been here less than 30 minutes and I get the feeling that nothing is really being done to help these poor kids.”

“Someone’s passionate,” Dean remarks. I hit his arm, “Of course I am. Is this not all…I don’t know…strange?”

“I don’t know, but Dad sent us down here for a reason. I think we might be barking up the right tree,” Dean answers. 

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Sam says.

“What?”

“That guy we just talked to? I’m betting it’ll be a while before he goes home,” he elaborates.

Bethany’s room is everything you’d expect a young girl's room to be, from clothes peeking out of drawers to the various stuffed animals on her bed to the doll house in the corner. To think this girl was now lying in a bleak hospital, completely drained of all the color and life that’s presented here. I’m still not sure if I want this to be our sort of case, even if by now I’m mostly convinced it is. If it is just some sickness then maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to help. All I’d need is some time with the patients to heal them periodically. Admittedly it’d take longer than the average hunt did but at least it would feel more productive or helpful. In the meantime though I guess it was nice to be in normal clothes again. “You got anything over there?” Sam asks from one corner of the room. I get up from the floor, fixing the carpet back in place after checking beneath the rug and bed–the sort of things you just sort of have to double-check when your job is in fact about hunting the things that go bump in the night, “No, nothing here.”

“Nah, nothing,” Dean says too, waving around his EMF.

“Yeah, me neither,” Sam sighs. I move to the closet next, sparkly dresses and some costumes exploding off the hangers, but as I check the insides of the doors and the ground there's no sign of anything there. “Hey, guys?” Sam suddenly says. I look over my shoulder, shutting the closet some as I watch Sam by the open window. “Yeah,” Dean answers.

Sam stares at the windowsill, quiet for a moment before speaking, “It’s not pneumonia,” he declares. My eyebrows furrow as I step towards the window and the mysterious clue, Dean swiftly at my side. The younger Winchester scoots aside to give us room to look out the window to see a dark handprint with long skinny fingers engraved into the wood, like it was burnt or something. “It’s rotted,” Sam says, correcting my thinking process, “What the hell leaves a handprint like that?”

“I’d say something pretty darn evil,” I mumble, looking up at Dean to gauge his reaction. But his face drops. His eyes are far away like he’s in a distant land or like the world is tipping on its axis, his face is almost sickly pale, lips parted just slightly, and I’ve seen this look before. This far-away look. The look he gets when he’s reliving an unpleasant memory, stuck in the confines of his mind. I place a hand on his upper arm, trying to offer something. Maybe later, if he allows me the chance to know which memory, I can comfort him better. I cannot erase the memory or fix that sick feeling on his face but maybe I can give him comfort and security. “I know why Dad sent us here. He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job,” he declares. 

It’s dark out by the time we pull up to a motel. “So what the hell is a Shtriga? I’ve never heard of it and it’s not in Dad’s journal” Sam asks as we exit the car, a name that Dean had labeled as what we’re hunting.

“They’re a type of witch from Albanian mythology and folklore,” I answer, old information from spending years researching types of witches coming back, “They feed off of the life force of children while they sleep, well, if we’re getting specific then they feed off of spiritus vitae,” the Latin slips off of my tongue with ease, a perk of having it as a second language.

“Spiri-what?” Dean attempts.

“Vitae. Spiritus vitae, it’s Latin and translates to, um, ‘spirit of life’ but I think it’s sometimes confused as ‘breath of life,’” I inform, “You know, there was this composer around 1914 who had a song with the name and I—“ I’m cut off by the clearing of his throat, an intentional move. “Right,” I exhale, feeling my face grow just a little warmer.

“Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about 16, 17 years ago,” Dean adds his information which would help explain his previous reaction, “You were there,” he directs at his brother, “You don’t remember?”

“No,” Sam answers simply.

“I guess he caught wind of the things in Fitzburg now and kicked us the coordinates,” the older Winchester elaborates.

“So wait, this…”

“Shtriga,” I fill in for Sam.

“Right. ‘You think it’s the same one Dad hunted before?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Dean nods, slowly heading in the direction of the motel's office.

“But if Dad went after it why is it still breathing air?” Sam asks, following after him.

“Cause it got away,” Dean says simply, almost with a lack of emotion or conviction.

“Got away?” Sam echoes.

“Yeah, Sammy, it happens,” he snaps.

“Not very often,” Sam pushes despite the clear frustration on his brother's face.

“Well I don’t know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn’t have his Wheaties that morning,” he remarks.

“What else do you remember?” he continues to push.

“Nothin’. I was a kid alright?” he spits, opening the door to the reception area a little too harshly. For whatever reason he doesn’t want to talk about that memory, likely the same reason he looked so sick before. He may deny its existence, but his defensive response is too defensive to be the truth. We both know that. He walks straight up to the desk, hitting the little silver bell. The idle noise of a distant television continues as a young boy no older than 12 with blonde hair walks up to the counter, “A king or two queens?” he asks. The soft noise of the TV becomes accompanied by small laughter from a seemingly younger boy.

“Two rooms, two queens and one queen,” Dean answers as he has done countless times before. A brunette woman enters then, her eyes tired but her smile warm as she approaches behind the kid, “Hi,” she greets.

“Hi,” Dean answers plainly with hardly a hint of his usual flirtation. If I weren’t worried about him already I certainly would be now. “Checking in?” she asks, still wearing that bright smile. “Yeah,” he exhales.

The woman turns her attention toward the boy first, “Ahh, do me a favor, go get your brother some dinner,” she directs.

“I’m helping a guest!” his voice goes just a little higher as he defends himself. Expectantly, she gives him a pointed look and quickly he gives in, grimacing as he turns to go. “Will that be cash or credit?” the woman asks, back in business mode.

“‘You take MasterCard?” he asks and she nods, “Perfect. Here you go.” He hands over the fake card and immediately his eyes go to the boys in the back room, the older boy pouring a glass of milk for his younger brother. And once more he gets that look on his face—that far-away look.

****

“You were right, Y/N,” Sam says looking up from his laptop, “Wasn’t easy to find but you were right.”

“Naturally,” I smile, letting myself be a little cocky. He scuffs, shaking his head with a hint of that bitch face he has. “Anyways,” he starts, “I was thinking what if when she takes your vitality maybe your immunity goes to hell, and pneumonia takes hold. Shtriga’s can feed off anyone but they prefer–”

“Children,” I conclude, “That’s an interesting theory, and children, of course, have developing immune systems making them, typically, weaker than one of an adult which could be why they’re favored. That or they have more life force….Probably the latter….Definitely the latter.”

“And get this, Shtriga’s are invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man,” he informs, a detail I was unaware of or forgotten.

“No, that’s not right,” Dean corrects, “She’s vulnerable when she feeds.”

“What?” Sam asks, leaning back from his laptop.

“If you catch her when she’s eating you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron,” he explains, “Uhhh, buckshots or rounds I think.”

“Ooh, look at you Mr. Knowledge,” I say smiling rather proudly at such a small thing. And maybe him demonstrating his knowledge was a little hot in a weird way but that stays between me and myself.

“How do you know that?” Sam asks, focused on the “important” things.

“Dad told me. I remember,” he puts it simply.

“Oh, huh,” Sam hums, “So, uh, anything else Dad might have mentioned?”

“Nope, that’s it,” he answers and we know it’s a lie. He’s clearly remembering a lot from that time period, or enough to make him act weird or uncomfortable twice now. I wish he’d just talk and share more. I know it’s not a “he doesn’t trust you enough” kind of thing but rather afraid to be vulnerable because he feels he’s not allowed to be. It’s moments like these where I particularly hate their father. “What?” Dean exclaims, looking between his brother and me—we must’ve been staring. “Nothing,” Sam exhales, “Okay. So, assuming we can kill it when it eats, we still gotta find the thing first, which ain’t gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they’re not hunting.”

“What kinda human disguise?” Dean asks.

“Historically, something innocuous. Could be anything, but it’s usually a feeble old woman, which might be how the witches as old crones legend got started,” Sam explains.

“Worst misconception ever,” I shake my head.

“Hang on,” Dean says, crossing the room.

“Hanging on,” I say. He pulls out a map from his bag, unfolding it and lying it down on the bed forcing us to get up and crowd around him. “Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far,” his finger travels over the paper, moving to each mark, “And dead center?”

“The hospital,” I answer, eyes jumping to the center of the marks, “Man, triangulation is good.”

“The hospital,” he confirms, “Now when we were there I saw a patient, an old woman.”

“An old person huh? In a hospital? Phew,” Sam snickers, shaking his head, “Better call the Coast Guard.”

“Well listen, smart-ass, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.”

*****

We move past the empty reception desk, the lateness of the night giving us the perk of a bare hospital. But, apparently, it is not bare enough for Dr Hydecker to be gone. Quickly we slide down a side hallway, sticking to the wall as he walks backwards, a coat hanging in the crook of his arm, “See you tomorrow Betty,” he says to a nurse down the hall receiving a “Try to get some sleep,” in turn. He spins the right way around, walking past us as he continues down the hallway.

Taking our opportunity we continue on to the old woman’s room. Dean creeps the door open, and like on autopilot we draw our guns as we enter the room. It feels incredibly horrible to be pointing a gun at an old person, especially when she seems to be peacefully sleeping in her wheelchair facing the corner of the room. Yet, we move to the other side of the room, surrounding her. And ever so slowly Dean moves closer until he’s right beside her, and even slower he moves closer and closer to her face until— “Who the hell are you?!” she screams, turning her head towards the man in question. Dean leaps up, quite literally taking air before his back hits a wall cabinet. “Who’s there? ‘You trying to steal my stuff?” she grumbles, “They’re always stealing around here.”

I nudge Sam to hit the lights, quickly concealing my gun behind my back before they flicker on. With light soaking us we can see the old lady clearly now, her eyes clouded with a greyish fog otherwise known as cataracts. “We’re so sorry ma’am, we didn’t mean to startle you,” I say.

“We’re maintenance,” Sam cleverly adds, “We’re sorry. We thought you were sleeping.”

“Ahhh, nonsense. I was sleeping with my peepers open,” she laughs at her own joke, then gestures at the wall, “And fix that crucifix, would ya? I’ve asked four damn times already!”

*****

It’s early morning when we pull into the motel parking lot and all I want is a nice shower and either a nap or a lot of caffeine. It would’ve been worth the lack of sleep if Dean’s theory was more fruitful than it was. In fact, Sam’s still laughing about the whole ordeal, “‘I was sleeping with my peepers open’?” he quotes, laughing like a crazy person as we exit the car.

“I almost smoked that old woman, I swear. It’s not funny!” Dean replies.

“Oh man, you shoulda seen your face,” Sam snickers, whipping away a lone tear.

“No, you should’ve seen how far you jumped,” I laugh nearly bellying over, “Dude, you took flight.”

“Yeah, laugh it off,” Dean grumbles, “Now we’re back to square one.” And it’s that that sobers me up. While the ordeal was funny, the kids in the hospital aren’t. We have no more leads. We might as well be back to square negative one. Suddenly Dean holds a hand up, “Hang on,” he says halting us as he walks over to the boy from last night. The blonde boy sits on a green bench with a worried almost pained look on his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks the boy softly. The boy looks up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “My brother’s sick,” he croaks.

“The little guy?” Dean asks, crouching down to see him better.

The boy nods, “Pnemunioa. He’s in the hospital. It’s my fault.” My heart might as well break. God, this was so messed up. How much life force did this damn thing need? “Ah c’mon, how?” Dean asks.

“I shoulda made sure the window was latched. He wouldn’t’ve got pneumonia if the window was latched,” he explains, rationalizing the best he can. Dean looks away for a moment, eyes meeting the ground before moving back to the boy, “Listen to me, I can promise you that this is not your fault. Okay?”

“It’s my job to look after him,” he defends, shaking his head.

“Michael!” the woman from last night suddenly calls, grabbing all of our attention. She hurries out of the motel to a black car with all sorts of bags on her shoulders and a giant blanket rolled beneath her arm, “I want you to turn on the no vacancy sign while I’m gone. I’ve got Denise covering room service so don’t bother with any of the rooms,” she orders.

“I’m going with you,” Michael declares, rising from the bench.

“Not now, Michael,” she responds, placing each item in the back seat of the car.

“But I gotta see Asher!” he argues.

“Hey, Michael. Hey,” Dean steps up, “I know how you feel–I’m a big brother too, but you gotta go easy on your Mom right now, okay?” Michael seems to take this advice, no longer arguing, even if it’s clear he doesn’t want to. “Dammit!” she suddenly curses at the drop of her purse, she buries her head in her hands. “I got it,” Sam announces, picking the small bag up and handing it to the stressed woman. “Thank you,” she responds.

“Listen, you’re in no condition to drive,” Dean starts, “Why don’t you let me give you a lift to the hospital?”

“Wait,” I say suddenly, moving closer to them or rather to him, “let me do it,” I insist. His green eyes bore into mine, asking a silent ‘you sure?’ I nod, “Yeah, I got it.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly…” she butts in, shaking her head.

“No, it’s okay, really, I wanna help,” I respond. What's another day wearing the same clothes from yesterday? It’s her turn to study me now, maybe to decide if this really will burden me or to determine if I’m trustworthy, maybe both. Either way, she hands over her keys. “Thanks,” she says, trying to manage a small smile. She turns to her son then, “Be good,” she tells him. He nods, frowning, as I help her into the passenger seat. Closing the door behind her, I turn to the boys, “I’m gonna see if I can…do something,” I explain quietly. They nod, picking up on what I meant, “Be safe,” Dean warns, eyebrows pinched in worry.

“I will,” I answer, smiling softly.

“We’re gonna kill this thing,” he adds, face dropping its worry as it’s replaced by determination, “I want it dead, you hear me?”

“Copy,” I exhale even if it was directed at both Sam and me. Then, I round the car and hop into the driver’s seat.

The second you step into this hall of the hospital you could practically feel the walls lamenting, like they too grieve for the children. It’s all parents holding on to each other as nurses bustle around, or a parent sitting over their kid's bed with their hands clasped and their head down as if in prayer. It’s horrible. I wish I could fix it all with the snap of a finger, I wish it could be as easy as that. If I were to get a moment alone with them and heal them I’m not sure if it would even work or be effective, though the ‘maybe’ isn’t going to stop me from trying.

I see the father from before, he sits between his two kids, a hand holding onto each of theirs as if holding their hands alone would be enough to keep them on this plane. Meanwhile, the very woman I drove here, Joanna, is walking away with a nurse asking question after question. And with her gone, even just a couple of feet away, I can try. I can be helpful.

I take the seat close to the bed that his mother had been occupying. He looks so small in the bed, an already small child being swallowed whole, and he is so pale like not only life but color was sucked from him.

I want this thing gone just as much as Dean does.

The monitor he’s hooked up to beats steadily as I carefully pick up his small hand from his side, it’s cold as I cup my hands around it. I take a deep breath, letting my eyes shut on the exhale, and my shoulders relax a little as I clear my mind the best I can.

I don’t care about the morals of this, of the gray area, or anything. If I can help every kid here I would, but I don’t even know if I can help this one person. Healing Dean all those months ago increased how long I can hold on for— my tolerance, but again this was a serious scale. The most I could do or try was to help the white blood cells out, to give them a break or replenish what was lost. But that’s just about the same scale of difficulty as fixing a heart affected by a heart attack, and even then one healing session only helped so much or rather so little. There would be no way for me to do multiple healings to each kid if it were to work, so maybe this would all prove to be futile— and yet trying wouldn’t kill me, while not trying might kill them.

So, I let the magic flow, using my mind's eye to envision what I want to do—what it would be like to restore the cells and strengthen them. My eyes roll close as the magic seeps further into his body through the layers of skin and flesh. It flows from my veins, the world becoming deafeningly silent as if it was all vacuumed away into a black hole. Everything falls away, and nothing else exists here. My ears buzz with the absence of sound, yet I feel the steady thrum of my heart, pulsing like a mantra in the quiet. The energy hums between us. I can sense his body’s weakness, feel the sickness clinging to him, and I push against it, hoping that my magic can reinforce what his body cannot. The warmth from my hands spreads slowly, but whether it’s healing or just comforting I do not know. It feels like a fool's bargain. Another witch has already eaten at his life force, and now, as his body sinks deeper into sickness, I’m trying to use my powers to piece it back together—something that may not even be possible. Strengthening him might not matter if he’s already bound to die because of that thing. All I might be able to offer is comfort.

The clearing of someone's throat behind me pulls me back to reality with a sharp tug. My eyesight feels slightly lopsided, the faint buzz in my ear lingers, and something warm runs down my lip. But I do not have time to dwell as I shoot up from my seat, powers flicking off with a blink as I view the interrupter. A nurse about my height smiles with a clipboard pressed to her chest, “Sorry, I have to check on him,” she explains. I nod, moving out into the hallway as I use the back of my hand to wipe away the warmth that seeps from my nose. I pull my hand away, staring at the blood that sticks out from the rest of my (s/c) skin. But, I can ignore a bloody nose when it's likely not even half of what the kids feel like. And yet I have no idea if it did anything—some witch I am.

The faint buzzing of my phone clashes with the noise in my ears. I flip my phone open and hit answer, knowing who it is without having to look, “Hey,” I exhale.

“Hey,” Sam greets, “How’s the kid?” I look back at the room, the nurse writing things down on that clipboard of hers, “Um….” It didn't seem like there was any change, “...Not good.” There's shuffling on his end, grumbling, and a distant “No dude, give me room,” followed by another shuffle before a different voice speaks, “Hi, sweetheart,” a familiar voice greets.

“Hi,” I say again, “What happened there?”

“Ah, nothing—” I can practically hear that sideways grin on his lips even as there’s more shuffling—“You sound tired, ‘you okay?”

A smile pulls on my lips at his question, at that faint concern in his voice and it’s like I can see that furrow in his brow. “Mhm,” I hum, “Tell me you guys have something, please.” The line goes quiet for a moment before there’s shuffling again, “Oh, thank you for my phone,” Sam grumbles sarcastically, he huffs before he speaks again, “Anyways, we’re at the library. I’ve been trying to find out as much as I can about this Shtriga.”

“And now you’re gonna share the great and happy news, right?” I answer hopefully.

“Well…” he drags out, “Bad news…I started with Fort Douglas around the time Dean said our Dad was there and it was the same deal. Before that, there was, uh, Ogdenville, and before that North Haverbrook, and Brockway. Every 15 to 20 years it hits a new town. This thing is just getting started in Fitzburg. In all these other places it goes on for months. Dozens of kids before the Shtriga finally moves on. The kids just…languish in comas and then they die.”

Silence hangs on the line. There is nothing to be said. There is nothing but realization to fall upon you. It has happened before. It will happen again. The kids will die. “How far back ‘this thing go?” I hear Dean ask.

“Uh, I don’t know. The earliest mention I could find is this place called “Black River Falls” back in the 1890s,” Sam answers, “Talk about a horror show….” he mumbles before cutting back in with a “Whoa.”

“What happened?” I ask quickly.

“Hold on…” the line fills with distant clicks, “I’m looking at a photograph right now of a bunch of doctors standing around a kid’s bed,” he explains, “One of the Doctors is Hydecker.”

“No,” I say almost in disbelief, my mind connecting the dots. “God, I’m so stupid.” You would think I of all people would connect these dots far sooner, but instead, my only hunch wasn’t an actual hunch and was more so just thinking that his name sounded like a book that happens to have a complex yet wicked doctor. “You’re not, none of us knew,” Sam

“What are you guys on about?” Dean asks, his voice suddenly louder, I presume he got closer to the phone.

“Look at the date,” Sam directs and the line falling silent is enough to gauge his reaction. “This picture was taken in 1893,” Sam adds.

I shake my head, this is a lot. Not only is the Shtriga someone we’ve met but it’s a doctor who has direct access to the children and the vulnerable parents. These people trust him. Talk about right under our noses. “You know this means this guy has been doing this for centuries, right?” I ask though it’s more of a rhetorical question than anything. “I’ll um….” I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling, “I’ll meet you guys back at the motel.”

How I wish he wasn’t only vulnerable when he was feeding, otherwise, when I finish with the phone I’d take care of him. “I’ll pick you up,” Dean declares, his words a little rushed and his voice far closer to the phone than before. That smile pulls on my lips again, “Okay, thank you.”

“Just don’t do anything stupid till I get there,” he adds as if he knew what I was thinking. Although, he was likely thinking the same thing. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I answer.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says more firmly.

“Okay,” I give in, “I won’t be an idiot.”

“Good. Be safe,” he says, cut off by some mumbling between the two boys before the line goes dead as he hangs up.

I shove my phone back into my pocket as I lean off the wall, moving towards the kids' room. He’s still lying in that bed. His heart monitor beats the same rhythmic beat, he’s still pale, still unmoving, still—-

“Does The CDC have anything so far?”

His voice makes me jump, my heart leaping in my chest. I spin towards him, a new smile already plastered on my face, “We’re still working on a couple of theories.”

What I wouldn’t give to do something now. Patience is not an easy virtue. “It’s nice to see you care as much as I do, coming on your time off and all,” his eyes briefed over my frame. I’m not in professional clothes like yesterday, although it’s not clear if he means to point it out as a way to show his suspicion. “Nothing more important than helping kids, right?” I respond with instead.

“That’s what I always say,” he adds. And I’d really like nothing more than to punch him in the face… among other things. Violent things. “Well, let me know if I can help,” he offers.

He can help by not existing anymore. “Of course, thank you,” I nod.

*****

Dean leans against the Impala, arms across his chest and daggers in his eyes. He doesn’t need to be around the doctor to be angry. I wonder if my expression resembles his—a mutual hatred for the same person. “It didn’t work,” he says, referring to my healing. He takes a few steps towards me, closing the short distance between us.

“No,” I exhale, frowning, “I don’t think at all.” Then, his arm is around my shoulder, pulling me into his side before he walks me to the passenger side of the car. I move away from his hold to be in front of him, my back to the door, “I don’t like this hunt,” I admit.

His eyes drop to the frown on my lips, his eyebrows furrowing, “Me neither.”

“Did you guys think of a plan yet?” I ask. His eyes sweep over the car, no longer willing to make eye contact or look at me at all. “Yeah, but—”

“But you don’t like it,” I finish for him. He looks at me again, his shoulders deflate, a tired expression washing over his face—it’s seeing him without his facade on. This is about more than their plan. I place a hand on his arm, “Do you want to talk about it?” But, his eyes avert again and he shakes his head like I knew he would and I nod because I will not push him. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. When he wants to. Then, he stands straight, the walls back up as he meets my eyes and I can still see the remnants of a plead. He reaches his hand up, slipping it easily onto my face to cup my cheek. And, slowly his head leans down, inching forward till he’s but a breath away. He leans his forehead against mine, his breath on my skin. I could push up and our lips would touch…

His arms wrap around me then, bringing me to his chest, keeping me close. The familiar scent of him fills my senses, this is safe even outside a hospital with an evil doctor. His head moves to my neck, those shoulders decompressing again. Maybe the walls weren’t all that up. “I messed up,” he mumbles into my skin, yet I can still hear the catch in his voice like a croak. My hand instinctively goes to the back of his head, “What do you mean?” I ask softly.

“It’s my fault all these kids are dying,” he elaborates, his tensing jaw flexing against my neck.

“How is it your fault, Dean?”

He pulls his face away, his jaw set. “Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. We were in a crap motel room for three days and I was climbing the walls. I needed to get out. When Sammy fell asleep I went to the reception area to play a game they had there. I was only gone for—gone for—” he swallows, “The Shtriga was there, feeding off of him. If my Dad hadn’t shown up when he did he would’ve—”

“Hey. Hey,” I say softly, and it’s my turn to cup his cheek now, “You made a mistake in a situation you couldn’t have possibly predicted. You were a kid. Okay? You were a kid. These kids aren't your fault.” But, he shakes his head. He won’t or can’t accept it and I know it was John who convinced him of this. “You were a kid,” I repeat.

“Sam said the same thing,” he answers instead, confirming that he had told his brother this.

“Of course he did. No one could blame you for what happened, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, I won’t make the same mistake twice,” his hands slip from me and I retract too, “It’s going to come for Michael next. We’re gonna take advantage of that.”

My eyebrows furrow. “I know you don't like it,” he quickly says, “But it will work. I'm going to kill it.”

*****

Asking a kid to be bait went just as well as one would expect. Horrible. “Well that went crappy,” Dean mumbles, “Now what?”

“He’s a kid, you can’t ask that of him,” I answer, “Maybe it’s for the better anyways.” I don’t like this plan. I don’t like the idea of putting a kid in danger, let alone exposing them to the very same world they were forced into. It’s not fair. “You can’t ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid,” Sam adds.

Then, there’s a knock at the door. Dean gives us a questioning look before he opens it, the young boy standing there. “If you kill it, will Asher get better?” he asks quickly.

“Honestly? We don’t know,” Dean answers truthfully.

“You said you were a big brother,” Michael says. Dean nods, “Yeah.”

“You’d take care of your little brother? You’d do anything for him,” Michael asks. The man in question looks back at his brother, a look shared between them. “Yeah, I would,” Dean replies, looking back at the boy.

“Me too. I’ll help,” he says.

Dean hooks up a security camera in the corner of the room, moving it into place while Sam ensures it’s working from the next room over, watching the feed. I study every inch of the room to commit to memory. I wasn’t leaving this up to chance, I don’t care how quick we can get here because it won’t be quick enough. But, I can be here quickly, in a single second. “This camera has night vision on it so we’ll be able to see clear as day,” Dean tells Michael before calling out to his brother, “Are we good?”

“A hair to the right,” he directs, and Dean adjusts it, “There, there.”

“What do I do?” Michael asks from his bed, tucked in and sat up. This was a horrible idea. Dean moves towards him, sitting on the edge of his bed, “Just stay under the covers.”

“And if it shows up?” he asks, his voice hard with determination but his face giving away his fear.

“We’ll be right in the next room. We’re gonna come in with guns. So, as soon as we do, you roll off this bed and you crawl under it,” Dean directs.

“And if they’re too slow I’ll be here in seconds,” I add, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“How?” he asks. And although it’s an obvious question I still fumble for a good answer, “I have a trick up my sleeve,” I muse, hoping that a kid will let me leave it at that.

“What if you shoot me?” he asks now.

“We won’t shoot you. We’re good shots. We’re not going to fire until you’re clear, okay?” Dean answers, Michael nods tentatively, “Have you heard a gunshot before?”

“Like in the movies?”

“It’s gonna be a lot louder than in the movies,” he answers, and he’s so careful with this kid even though we’re putting him in a horrible position, “So, I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears, do not come out until we say so. You understand?”

Michael nods slowly, but the fear in his eyes is prominent, his bottom lip quivering. “Michael, ‘you sure you wanna do this?” Dean asks. Silence fills the room, he isn’t sure—he shouldn’t be. This poor kid.

“You don’t have to, it’s okay, I won’t be mad,” he says softly. He’s giving this boy a choice, more than he ever got and that thought alone makes me want to cry. “No, I’m okay. Just don’t shoot me,” Michael answers.

“We’re not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

*****

The night drones on. The feed remains relatively the same except for when Michael shifts in his bed. He’s safe and I wish it could remain that way all of tonight and forevermore. I almost don't want the Shtriga to come if it means keeping him safe and away from the world I know. But, that’s not an option or a choice and the gun weighs heavy in my lap. “What time is it?” Dean asks. Sam checks his watch, “Three. You sure these iron rounds are gonna work?”

“Consecrated iron rounds, and yeah it’s what Dad used last time,” Dean answers.

“Hey, Dean, I’m sorry,” Sam suddenly says.

“For what?”

“You know, I’ve really given you a lot of crap, for always following Dad’s orders,” he elaborates, “But I know why you do it.”

“Oh, god, kill me now,” Dean grumbles, never one for vulnerable moments. Sam laughs softly, knowing to stop there. The room falls back into silence, eyes staring intensely at the screen.

Something moves outside the window, a mass of darkness, “Look,” I point out. The window slides open, the Shtriga slides inside, “Not yet,” Dean orders, placing a hand on my thigh to stop me from getting up. I throw him a sideways glance, logically I know we have to wait but everything else screams we shouldn’t.

The being in a hooded cloak creeps closer to the bed. It leans closer, and closer. I shoot up from my chair. It opens its mouth. I envision Michael’s room in my head and I’m there. “Get down!” I order, finger ready on the trigger. The side door bursts open. He rolls off the bed and I don’t waste time in shooting the thing. Over and over. Their guns accompany mine. It gets hit from two different angles. It crumbles to the ground. The guns stop. “Mike, you alright?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” he answers from beneath the bed.

“Just sit tight,” Dean directs. He approaches the Shtriga carefully, his gun at the ready. He stands over it, waiting for movement. But, there isn’t any. He relaxes slightly, he glances at us. Suddenly, the Shtriga jumps up and grabs him by the throat, moving at an inhuman speed. It lifts Dean and throws him against the wall, something shattering behind him.

It moves quicker than my eyes can follow. Suddenly, it’s on me, its long fingers wrap around my neck, lifting me up before sending me back into the far wall. My gun knocks out of my hand as I hit the floor, skidding across the wood. Then, it has Sam. It throws him into the wall and the moment he hits the ground it’s on him.

I extend my hand out, an invisible force grabbing hold of my gun. The Shtriga forces his mouth open. I drag my gun towards me as I pick myself up on my knees, the pain spreading in my back protests such action. It opens its mouth widely, a great white energy begins to extrude from Sam’s mouth. Finally, I grasp my gun, quickly I lift it and—“Hey!” Dean shouts. The shtriga looks up and he shoots it right between its eyes. It falls backwards, leaving Sam to gasp for breath. “You okay little brother?” Dean asks.

Luckily, he nods and holds up two shaky thumbs-up. I force myself to my legs, moving over to Sam to help him stand. The corpse of the Shtriga lies there with its mouth agape, white energy spews from its mouth like a puff of air in the cold. Still, Dean raises his gun and shoots it three more times. More energy escapes from it until it disintegrates, the black cloak falling in on itself. I didn’t expect it to do all that but at least it’ll be gone for good. It won’t be able to hurt any more kids or their families.

The morning seemed chipper than the previous day, like the earth knew to be happy. Or, maybe I’m just projecting because we got rid of something that caused a lot of harm.

Dean takes my duffle bag from me, packing our things away in the trunk. Joanna comes out of the reception office looking around. “Hi! How’s Asher doing?” I ask as she approaches us. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday, since before we killed the Shtriga. “Have you seen Michael?” she answers instead, worry on her face. And as if on que Michael comes running up, yelling, “Mom! Mom!”

He jumps into her arms and she holds him closely, “Hey!” she smiles, her boy safe in her arms. “How’s Ash?” he asks.

“Got some good news. Your brothers gonna be fine,” she says.

“Really?” Michael beams.

“Yeah. Really. No one can explain it—it’s a miracle,” she glances up at us, answering us at the same time, “They’re going to keep him overnight for observation and then he’s coming home.”

“That’s great,” Dean answers.

“How are all the other kids doing?” Sam asks.

“Good. Really good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward is going to be like a ghost town,” she answers.

“Dr. Travis? What about Dr. Hydecker?” Sam asks, faking confusion.

“Oh he wasn’t in today. Must have been sick or something.”

“Yeah, you know it’s common to get sick in hospitals with all the exposure to the germs brought in and the drug-resistant bacteria,” I reply, realizing only after how the explanation is probably not the most reassuring thing ever. But, she doesn’t seem to dwell on it as she looks at her son and asks, “So, did anything happen while I was gone?”

Michael glances at Dean, “Nah, same old stuff.”

“Okay,” she smiles, “You can go see Ash.”

“Now?” he beams, his smile wide. He looks to Dean again who nods slightly. God, he’s so good with kids. “Only if you want to,” Joanna answers. Michael doesn’t answer, instead he runs to the car. She laughs, “I, uh, I’d better get going before he hot wires the car and drives himself.”

This was the true rewarding part about hunting. To see their smiles, to fix what was wrong, to save people. It makes all the trauma worth it. “It’s too bad,” Sam says.

“Oh, they’ll be fine,” Dean brushes off.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant Michael. He’ll always know there are things out there in the dark—he’ll never be the same, you know?” There’s a long pause as the weight of it sets in. I had already thought of this, but there’s nothing we can do now but hope he doesn’t have to be exposed to anything else that goes bump in the night. “Sometimes I wish that…”

“What..?”

“I wish I could have that kinda innocence,” Sam admits.

“If it means anything…sometimes I wish you could too.”

I wish they both could be ignorant to this aspect of life. I was doomed to know of it even if I didn’t decide to hunt it because I am a part of the things that go bump in the night. But, they didn’t have to be doomed. Even though I love them, if never knowing them meant saving them from this world, then I’d make that deal.

[lovings4turn]

[ 🐈‍⬛ ] slide out the window -send me a prompt + a character / driver , and i'll write a mini fic based off of it

i could go for the obvious but i think jess mariano deserves more love. so jess + he finds the poems you write about him.

jess does in fact deserve all of the love ever you're so real lari !! thanks sm for sending this in n im so sorry for how long it took to get this out-

"you know, this would be a lot easier if you cleaned your room more often."

"that is so rich coming from you!"

playful bickering had filled the room for the better part of five minutes as you practically ransacked your room in pursuit of jess' missing jacket. it was here somewhere, but where, you had no idea.

it was almost frustrating. your room wasn't even that big, and unless jess had gone out of his way to hide it, there was no reason the search should have turned into an all out scavenger hunt.

"this is worse than that time kirk lost all of those eggs," you groaned, pushing yourself to stand after searching underneath your bed.

"so dramatic," jess quipped, though his search in your wardrobe also proved futile.

"what did you even do with the thing?" you questioned, unable to hold back your laughter as even the most odd places were found empty.

"i hadn't seen you in four days, i'm sorry that my priority was-" jess cut himself off, dark brows furrowed as he scanned something on your desk.

"what are these?"

after a moment, jess held up his hand, a few loose sheets of paper clasped between his fingers and confusion written across his face. you, too, were confused for a moment before you realised.

"oh, uh," you scrambled for words, feeling your cheeks heat up as you realised exactly what he'd found. "they're nothing."

smart.

"nothing?" jess repeated, clearly amused. "well, 'nothing' looks an awful lot like some poetry. pretty good poetry, by the way. you write these?"

there was no point trying to deny it. not when he was looking at you with a slightly crooked smile and a soft gaze reserved only for your company.

"i guess, yeah." you shrugged, still embarrassed. "they're nothing special, scribbles, really."

"no? they seem awfully romantic," he teased, though there was something else behind his words. "are they... y'know. are they about me?"

you could have laughed at his question, the answer being so obvious, but the moment between you both seemed so vulnerable, a bubble that could easily be popped by even one wrong word.

"of course they are."

with great care, jess placed the sheets back down onto your desk and made his way over to you. warm hands found your own, lifted until they were held between yours and jess' frames. he gave you another gentle smile before his lips were on yours.

each movement of his mouth was poetry in its own way, conveying every small thought and feeling jess wished to tell you. every sigh was a confession, the trace of his tongue against your lips his pen upon paper.

the search for jess' jacket could wait. jess had found something far more precious.

[afreakingdork]

I saw you were doing small requests if we proved we voted for Hassan/Mikey, so here's my proof! I was wondering if you could do something with Leo, since we don't see nearly enough Leo x readers out there. I was thinking maybe a best-friends to lovers thing where they keep trying to one up each other with playful flirtation, but it becomes real in the end, followed by a confession and a kiss? Xxx

Writing Request: Reader x Leo First Kiss 😘

Thank you kindly for doing your part! I hope you're enjoying all the content and please tell your friends! Let's push back in this comp!

From now until the poll closes, if you can prove to me that you voted Hassan/Mikey in this poll then I will do any short story writing request like the one below or draw you any doodle of your choosing!

ᴰᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ: ᴵ ᵃᵐ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶦⁿ ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸ ᵃˢˢᵒᶜᶦᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒʳ ᵉⁿᵈᵒʳˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉᵗᶦᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵒʳ ᶦᵗˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉˢᵗᵃⁿᵗˢ.

We got some cutie all ages fluff down here, folks!

"And that's when you go in for the kiss!"

Leo had a fist to his lip's and nodded as if this conversation was of the utmost importance.

The random man in question who had approached you while you were hanging out with your best friend was none the wiser. You weren't sure where he had come from, but had interjected himself into your conversation without warning. He had some ripe opinions on romance that apparently couldn't wait for people he knew. Instead of running, Leo had been prompting him for the sake of it and sending you more and more exaggerated looks each time the man looked away.

"What about consent?" Leo asked.

The man reared for a moment before he thought which part. "At which part? We haven't gotten past first base."

"You gotta ask if you're going to kiss someone." Leo spoke with a firmness that you read as genuine.

"The mood!"

"Don't start." Leo shook his head.

"It ruins the mood." The man insisted.

"It does not." Leo waved him off for the first time.

"It does! You think your lady friend is going to still wanna smooch after you interrupt leaning in to ask permission!? That's not manly!"

"Manly, huh?" Leo's mask quirked with his brow. "Also, just lady friends?"

He glanced at you.

You chewed your lip and glanced away to not laugh.

"Ah, man friend, lady friend. Whatever friend! It doesn't matter!" The man huffed. "It's all the same in the eyes of love."

"Consent is hot, that's all I'm saying." Leo shrugged.

"Ah!" The man grunted and turned. "You don't get it! Oh! I bet they do!"

You both watched as the man jogged off at the next unsuspecting group of people.

"Well then!" Leo put his hands on his hips. "I never!"

He held the haughty pose until a giggle finally broke free from you and he slumped to your side.

"That was something." You told him.

"You know I really like conversations like that." Leo stuck a leg out to walk.

You followed his lead with solider-like attention. "Yeah? Seemed a bit like you were teasing him."

"Me!?" He gaped sarcastically at you before his features went lackadaisical. "Making something a gag is second nature. I really do I swear."

You thought for moment. "Okay... Why?"

"Why?" He digested the question and looked up at the buildings. "Let's see. People are interesting. They've got all these opinions and they're wild! Everyone is so different and they'll try to ask these questions about you, but they don't really want to know, but I do. Like I already know me; I want to know about them!"

It gave you pause and you thought back. In all the time you had known Leo, he had been like that. If you ever asked him something as simple as his favorite color, he would somehow turn the conversation around on you until you were matching shades in some sun room that you were going to retire in.

He made you feel like the center of the world and you loved him for it. He was bright and whip smart, but he also had an undeniable loneliness. He never let it get to him, but it made you want to get closer. You pushed to get his number after meeting him. You made sure to text him if a little too much time had gone by. You made future plans with him always included.

You became the best of friends before you even knew it.

Leo said yes to pretty much everything, even when his schedule was packed. it was his eagerness of companionship and just that he was generally a good friend, even if you found yourself mortified around him often. His wit and penchant for a bit meant that if you said the slightest thing wrong that he would hone in on it. It was further sharpened to a knife having had three brothers and because of it you had built a repertoire of inside jokes.

He was special and even just taking a walk with him on a day like today would be a highlight of your week.

"I see it." You eventually said.

"What'dyou think?"

"About what?" You glanced at him and the way the sunlight played on his barely shielded green skin.

"His pitch! That love guru's plan of attack. How to woo your lady, not lady friend."

A smile played on your lips. "Set the mood. Sure, that's good, but when's a mood, right? That's always a question."

"Exacty!" Leo threw a demonstrating hand to you. "Like is it being alone. We're alone right now?"

"Not really a mood?" You looked around.

"Should it be dark? They say those steak houses have romantic lightening when you can't even tell which fork your grabbing."

You laughed knowing what he'd say next.

"I'm telling you!" He pressed with the same knowledge. "They do it so they can give you lower cuts! That's why I always bust out the ole phone flashlight!"

"They do not!"

"I swear I ordered a rib eye but they served me flank. Flank!"

"The horror!"

"But yeah, okay so not the lights."

"Because I totally confirmed that."

"Okay, come here then."

You did so without hesitation.

"Okay, let me just..." He reached behind him to tug his hoodie off.

You watched on.

His chin caught. "Hold on." He squirmed to pull one arm through. "Hold!" It got trapped against the points of his plastron. "Wait, Wait!" His head disappeared down into the hole and you watched the blue fabric writhe.

There was no way he could see you, but when your hand came up to help he immediately scolded.

"Don't you dare! I've got this!"

You weren't sure if it was a bit or not, but that was Leo and he was nothing if not amusing.

"I got it!" In one hands to the ceiling move, his hoodie came off. "Check it!"

He flexed in his average looking t-shirt. "Very attractive."

"Thank you!" He told you with a point of his beak. "Alright, now cloud cover..."

He waved you over to a wall and you followed.

He looked you over a few times before he caged you in so he could hold the hoodie above both of you to block the light.

You stared at his red stripes in their proximity.

"Dark, how are we feeling?"

"Not really a mood."

"It's not a mood!" He cracked a grin. "We're already at the next factor."

"Oh?"

"Closeness. He said that thing about how both people realize they're a little too close and kissing is inevitable."

"Cause if that was true we would have kissed a bunch of times."

"Right?!" Leo clucked. "The Twister incident? That time I hit you with that little trashcan. Oh, oh! When you were demonstrating the banana thing and actually fell."

"That middle one..." You narrowed your eyes.

"An accident, I swear." He looked dire.

"I still think the banana was cause of the floor."

"Sure." Leo drew out the word.

You pinched the tail end of one of his stripes which also happened to be his cheeks.

He smiled all the more. "Alright then. Is that it? We've eliminated everything. Total bunk. That guy doesn't knowing a thing about romance."

"Yeah! Moods? Like what even is that?"

"Like cuddling on the couch?" Leo gagged.

"Running through the rain?" You added.

"Yeah, because I totally want to make out when I'm soggy!" His eyes rolled.

"Your clothes stick together!"

"You have to peel apart!" He shuddered and the hoodie shook as your umbrella.

You reached up on instinct to steady it right as one of the sleeves fell.

"Nice catch."

"Call me champ."

"No, I'm champ."

"You're champion."

"Your champion?" His mask waggled with his brow ridge.

"You can't count that! It was a bet."

"Oh yeah, what was last week when I got you that ice cream?"

"I was trying to be nice to you."

"Only trying?"

"You make it so easy."

"I do. I'm a great guy. Amazing friend. Easy on the eyes."

"The face of disaster. Person I would vote least likely to make a typo in front of because he will never let you live it down."

"I give you my life and my time!" He bemoaned.

"And I appreciate it."

He gave you his best puppy dog eyes. "Do you? You're just saying that. You totally said you were just saying that."

"No, you're the light of my life."

"In that voice? Maybe I'm the light from one of those nightlights that are automatic, like the kind that turn off as soon as you turn the real lights on."

You squared yourself and looked straight into his eyes.

He startled and gave you owlish attention.

"Leonardo Hamato. You are the most important thing to me. You appeared in my life and I made sure you were part of it and at some point you became someone I can't live without."

"Oh." The vowel popped out dull.

You were flooded with a wave of worry.

Had that been too much?

It was true.

You cared about Leo.

He made you laugh.

He made you smile.

He made you a priority.

You did the same with him.

It must have been all the romance talk.

He might have misconstrued the whole thing.

Certainly none of that meant anything more.

With the steam still trapped in your cheeks you met his eye.

He was staring the same intensity.

You shared it a little coy before you decided to face it head on.

You set your jaw and returned the full brunt of your certainty in the matter.

He blinked a single time. "Wanna make out?"

Your eyes went as wide as they could.

"Wait, that came out wrong!"

"Are you kidding me!?" You squawked.

"I said it was wrong! Let me-!"

"That's your idea of consent?!" You tugged the hoodie down.

Since he had his own hold on the fabric it pulled his arm.

Which pulled his shoulder.

Which pulled him closer.

You were inches away. "That guy was right! It does ruin a mood! 'Wanna make out?' Leo, what-?!"

He dropped a little lower and your heart spasmed.

He dipped down so he could look up at you through his lashes.

His gaze liquefied your insides on contact.

He held your gaze for a few calculated moments before he leaned up enough that the heat of his breath warmed your lips.

"I'm sorry. I meant, may I have the pleasure in kissing you?"

You closed the gap.

The hoodie dropped down around you for privacy.

You lost your vision and for a moment it was just you and him.

A tiny version of the world that you didn't mind.

Then, you parted.

Within the confines you heard the smack and felt the way your mouths were both open and ready for another.

"Like..." Leo licked his lips audibly. "Like that. You do it like that."

"If you tell me that was a bit I'm never talking to you again." You whined without an ounce of heat.

"I swear... Kiss on it?"

You tugged him right back to you and he smirked against you.

[glitchy-npc]

54 for whump prompts?

54: “You were right.”

Thank you @keltena for the same prompt!

Late afternoon, maybe an hour till sunset. 

The Boneyard is almost empty this time of day. Only a handful of people and their dogs, the last few stragglers trying to tire out their energetic companions before heading home for the night. 

Routine. Normal. Not that you’d know.

Is this what your life would have been like if you had been born human? A boring, safe, nine to five job and a dog to come home to? Something to care for, to guard you in return? Love, free from judgment.

It doesn’t matter, those thoughts are pointless. You’re not here for the dogs or their people, you're here to confront your tail. You don’t know who but you’ve felt someone tracking you the last few hours. Not direct thoughts but a prickle at the back of your neck, a feeling of being watched and you’ve survived too long to ignore those kinds of instincts. In an initial spike of panic you had been worried it might be the Special Directive, but waiting so long isn’t their style, they’re far too efficient. You doubt it's Ortega either, even if you can’t read him he’s never had any patience and he should be all too eager to confront you now after what you did to him. Stop thinking about Ortega, nothing good ever comes from that.

Did Hollow Ground send someone to babysit you? Watch you? Either way, maybe the presence of witnesses will keep things from getting messy.

You close your eyes and wait. 

It's not long before someone sits down heavily next to you. You don’t jump, you felt the familiar portcullis of the Marshal’s shields slam shut around his mind as soon as he entered The Boneyard, a bigger tell than even his heavy gait. His work legs you’d guess. That doesn’t bode well for you, neither does his silence.

“How long have you been following me?” Maybe letting him know you're not as easily ambushed  as the first time he met you here will level some of the playing field.

“What makes you think I’ve been following you?” Of course he answers a question with a question. Asshole. 

“Please,” you scoff. “Do you expect me to believe this is a coincidence? You're not even here with Spoon.” That thought makes you a little sad, you suppose you’ve lost your dog walking privileges now that you’re a known villain. That's a shame, Spoon is a good dog. 

The Marshal doesn’t bother to offer any other excuse. Maybe you don’t deserve one.

“So are you here to arrest me?” Might as well start with the worst possible scenario.

“No.” The admission is quick, the ‘not yet’ left unsaid. 

“Then what, just here to remind me not to fuck up?” Your laugh is dry.

“What makes you think you haven’t already fucked up?” You can feel his eyes on you but you don’t take the bait, you keep staring straight ahead. You wonder if he means your choice of career or the mess you've made of your friendship. 

“Shut up, you know what I mean. You’re fine with me off the leash for now but if I fuck up and get someone killed, that blood would be on your hands too.”

“There's already blood on my hands, for a long time” His sigh is heavy and tired. You sneak a glance as he clasps them together, mechanical fingers interlocking. “At some point you just stop trying to wipe it clean…and try to do better.”

“Do better…” You echo his words and shake your head. “Is that what this is? Honestly I’d prefer being arrested over having to sit here and listen to your platitudes.” It’s not much of a joke but it gets something between a laugh and a cough out of him. 

“Believe it or not, I’m not here to lecture you.” You're about to call bullshit before he continues. “I thought you might have questions for me.” 

“Sure, I got one, is cryptic bullshit just wired into your brain or something? You always do that.” Talking like you're supposed to know what he’s talking about, reading minds doesn’t work miracles. You roll your eyes but catch a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe, but you’re smart enough to figure it out.” Ugh. Flattery? Asshole.

But he’s not wrong, it’s been almost six months after the crash and you haven’t seen any of the Rangers since – well, aside from a not so gentle reminder from Lady Argent that she’s getting impatient with your lack of progress on your little shared project, but the Marshal doesn’t need to know that. Instead you opt for something safer. Maybe you can spin this into information you can use. 

“Has Herald been keeping up with his training?” Somehow calling him Daniel feels wrong. That was a name he shared with Tegan, not Retribution. 

“I’m…not sure, he’s mostly been out on patrols.” Is that a warning? Maybe you should watch the skies more often. 

“You're just a wealth of information aren't you.” 

“To be fair, I thought you’d ask about Ricardo.” 

Fuck. As if that wasn’t the most dangerous topic between you. Maybe the Marshal will let you get on with your work so long as you toe the line, but you doubt he’ll keep letting you break his best friend's heart, not after last time. You wonder if he’d care if it's breaking yours as well. 

“Is he still mad about you keeping the photos from him?” The photos, what a quaint little term for the evidence of your torture at the hands of the Farm. Impossible to survive, maybe that makes them feel unreal. It’s a low blow shifting the blame, but then again, you are the bad guy here.

“We talked.” There's an undeniable tension in his clipped words.

“You mean you fought.” 

“I mean we talked. Yes, it got bad…and maybe he won't forgive me, but we cleared the air. It’s a start.”  

“Never would have pegged you for an optimist.”

“I‘m not but…are you?” You catch his quizzical look out of the corner of your eye.

“You have got to stop fucking doing that, I am litterally not reading your mind right now!” You curse yourself for losing your cool but it's really the most irritating thing about him. He never says what he means.

“Are you still angry? That I kept the photos from him.” He’s looking at you but you don’t dare look back, you can feel his gaze practically searing into your clenched jaw.

“When I was…recovering” A simple word for the agony that was being trapped in a medical bed in your base, helpless, hurting and all too vulnerable. “All I did was hate you.” If Ricardo had known, even suspected you were alive, maybe he would have tried to save you, maybe none of this would have had to happen. Maybe-

No. You’re long past maybes.

“And now?” There's something fragile in his question, not something you're used to hearing from him. Not fear, but something terribly adjacent to hope. 

Your sigh feels bone deep. You can only lie to yourself for so long. Even when it feels so much better than the truth. 

“No. You…you were right.” You wish it didn’t feel like pulling barbed wire from your skin to admit that. “He would have gotten himself killed looking for me…and I don't want that.” The last is said no louder than a whisper.

The Marshal nods, maybe he's made up his mind about you, or himself, you don’t know. You don’t want to. He stands up before the silence between you grows too long, looks like your interrogation is over.

“Take care, Tegan.” Your old name feels like a bruise neither of you will stop poking. 

The words slip out before you can stop yourself.

“Say hi to Spoon for me.” 

Chen hesitates, but doesn’t turn around.

“I will.”