#like we’ve barely even seen them and I’m halfway through the game from what it seems

[dany36]

man that nachtigal arc was really weak. We saw him once before the battle at the palace and we got a bit of background from rowen that he and nachtigal fought together in war ages ago. Was I supposed to feel sorry for him or rowen after killing nachtigal? Cus I felt nothing 🥱 like…next!!!!

[thesolferino]

True Calling

⤷ dream x f!reader.

⤷ word count: 3.9k

⤷ requested: yes, by this lovely anon!

— summary: dream meets his favorite singer on an among us livestream.

“Dude, what could go wrong? Just do it.”

“What could go wrong?! Literally so many things, you ass.” 

Dream heard Sapnap sigh through the mic right into his headphones, the dim grey of his Discord background doing barely anything to illuminate his features as he stared at his open messages blankly.

“First of all, don’t.. speak to me like that, I am doing you a favour by sitting here and listening to you panic about stupid shit. Second of all, nothing big could go wrong. What, you’re a little awkward in the beginning, maybe, and that’s it.” Dream adjusted his headphones a little bit, Sapnap’s rant flowing into his ears but dissipating somewhere halfway to his brain, because, yes, things could go wrong and he can’t be proven otherwise.

“Did you forget that I’m a public figure? And that my fans are insane? I say one wrong thing and it’ll be memed and haunt me in my dreams. Did you forget that SHE’s a public figure? And that this is live? God…” he retorts back, listening to Sapnap helplessly sigh once again in response. He anxiously switches from his Discord to Twitter, then to YouTube, to Twitch and then back to Discord, frantically clicking around. In reality, he knows Sapnap is right, and it’s anxiety whispering into his ear that he’s gonna somehow fuck up, but maybe it’s simply easier to stay and argue with him into the night instead of actually responding to that message.

The stream is still going. Quackity’s voice speaks over Sapnap’s quiet breathing. “Damn, he’s still not responding. Um, let me try Tubbo, maybe?” 

Before he knows it, the opportunity to join the stream is slipping out of his fingers, and Dream isn’t sure if he’s happy about that or not. On one hand, he gets to meet one of his favorite artists whose album he’s played way too many times to count, and on the other, the chances of him embarrassing himself in front of that same artist and a hundred thousand other people are extremely high, and he’s not sure if he likes the odds of that.

“Man, I don’t know. You won’t listen to me, anyway. Don’t join if you don’t want to.” Dream hears the annoyed tinge in Sapnap’s voice, and that’s what pours the last bit of courage into his veins because the best way to do anything in life is to follow Sapnap’s advice after you’ve already irritated him to the point of defeat, and he murmurs a quick “bye” and hangs up before the other can even respond, typing a rapid “Sure, send me the VC link” back to Quackity. 

He hears a delighted exhale coming from his Twitch tab just as Quackity forwards him the link. “Okay, nevermind, we’ve got Dream! He’ll join in a second.” 

With that, he swiftly closes the Twitch tab and with an encouraging sip of water, he finally joins the Discord voice chat with the rest of the players. Your Discord image sticks out like a sore thumb to him despite being a super basic, Googleable picture of you that he’s probably seen a million times by now, and upon seeing it, reality slaps him right over the face and he realises that, oh shit, he actually joined.

“Hey everyone.” Dream speaks into the mic and a mix of excited voices greets him at the same time as he loads up the game. Your icon is missing the green halo. He stares at it, as if you’ll magically speak up if he stares long and hard enough. That, apparently, works.

Pokimane’s “Dream, hi!” seems to set something off in your brain, and you speak again.

“Oh, Dream?” the green halo appears, and Dream resists the urge to say something stupid or bite his hand or anything of the sort when you say his name. “Aren’t you the guy who listens to my music all the time?” you giggle.

Quackity laughs loudly in his usual fashion, and Dream feels his hands go cold as the Among Us loading page pops up. “Wh-huh?” 

“Yeah, you-you listen to my music a lot! Your fans always tag me under that… ‘Dream’s Spotify’ Twitter account, I remember you.” Dream swears his heart is about to jump out of his chest and start bouncing around on the floor because his ribs are way too restrictive for that type of movement, but he tries his best to play it cool and laughs lightheartedly.

“I do! I’m, like, your biggest fan.” he grins, as if you can see him, and you laugh in return.

“Yeah, man, you pay my rent. Thanks.” you say and a couple of people laugh while Dream inputs the code and his character finally pops up, immediately running around like the rest of the group. He runs around your purple character and hears you chuckle as you run around him too, but not for long, because the game starts and everyone mutes themselves. He audibly sighs, because he can afford to, considering he’s not streaming and nobody can hear the amount of courage this whole thing is taking him. 

A notification pops up on his screen - the Dream Team group chat seems to be talking. Must’ve already found some way to make fun of me, he thinks to himself as he huffs out a large breath and runs through cafeteria and weapons to do his tasks in navigation. Corpse is hot on his tail the whole time, and not to say he’s an untrustworthy guy, but Dream isn’t really looking forward to getting killed before even speaking to you properly, so he runs around, trying to find somebody to stick with so Corpse doesn’t shove a knife in his back while he’s doing a task. 

Thankfully, Karl emerges somewhere from the direction of storage right into communications where Dream was going, too. Just as Dream starts finishing download and Corpse and Karl line up behind him, his screen flashes bright red and white and the bold letters “Dead body reported” pop up. Everyone unmutes themselves and his eyes bore into your character, immediately.

“Alright, the body was in top left of the… uh, upper engine. I need everyone’s positions.” Rae immediately spoke.

“I was in electrical, I-I went through cafeteria to the upper engine with Poki, there was nobody there, we did our tasks, went down to lower engine, then Poki left with Toast, and I went to electrical and the body was reported.” Sykkuno said, and Pokimane confirmed with a hum of agreement.

“Dream?” Rae asked, and he spoke up.

“I never even went that way, I went through weapons to nav, and then to communications, and then the body was found. Corpse can vouch for me because he was following me the entire time and I kinda thought he was gonna kill me. And Karl saw me in communications, us three were all together when you… reported the body.” He rambled, trying to defend himself.

“Yeah, it’s true, he was with me the whole time.” Corpse supported.

“Karl, which way did you get to communications?” Toast asked.

“Uh, through storage.” Karl replied quickly.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I was in security, and I could swear I saw you walk past.” Toast said, and a couple of “ooh”s echo through the call.

“That makes no sense because even if I did go that way, I wouldn’t have time to get to communications and start doing my task with Dream and Corpse if I killed Ethan! And Rae, you-you saw me do my task in storage!” Karl loudly defended himself.

“...that… that’s true, yeah.” she said.

“If you ask me, Toast, you’re being real sus for lying about that.” Karl threw it back at Toast, who protested.

“Listen, I didn’t say you killed anybody, I just said I saw someone run past!” he claimed.

“Bretman and Y/N are being real quiet, though.” Corpse points out, and the green halo around your icon lights up once again.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realise I was muted. Sorry, guys.” you laughed. “Um, I was with… Quackity, in… what’s that shit on the right called?”

“O2.” Quackity quickly jumped in.

“Right, O2. I went to… top left, first, and I did my tasks there, and then to weapons and then to O2, and then the body was reported.”

“You were in top left?” Rae repeated.

“Yeah.”

“And was there anyone with you?”

“Um… no? I was alone, and then I saw Quackity in top right, and then we went to, uh, O2 together.” you said and Corpse sighed loudly.

“That means she could’ve had the time to kill Ethan and run.” Toast points out.

“Hey! I didn’t kill anyone! I don’t even know how this game works…” you whined into the mic and Quackity laughed.

“Yeah, I dunno Y/N, you were dancing real suspiciously around me…” he said, causing you to defend yourself louder.

“Why would I kill anyone?! I don’t even know how to do that, I’m a nice person!”

“I don’t think she did it, guys.” Dream pipes up, tugging at the wire of his headphones absentmindedly.

“Shut up, you simp.” Quackity fires back instantly, making everyone in the call laugh, including Dream.

“Damn right, I’m a Y/N simp. She can do no wrong. I mean, look at that innocent face! She did nothing, I’m-I’m sure.” He argued, making you cover your mouth and giggle.

“Their face is literally the same as everyone’s! We’re all astronauts!” Rae protested, but Dream kept shaking his head.

“No, hers is more innocent.” he said. “Toast, why are you so set on accusing everyone, anyway?”

“Oh, you’re so not attacking Toast right now-”

“Guys, I think we should skip.” Sykkuno pipes up to calm the conversation, and everyone agrees, even though most of them mumble “sus” under their breath as soon as they mute their mics.

Dream’s tiny green astronaut stomps his way over to the left side immediately, changing paths this time and making his way into the Upper Engine, trying to finish his tasks in time and possibly find someone to accompany him so he at least doesn’t have to argue over his alibi. He had four tasks left, two of them in Upper Engine, so after that he was free to roam around wherever his heart desired. Just as he started doing one of them, he watched your purple character step in and run circles around him, earning you a quiet laugh that he didn’t know he uttered until he heard himself do it and silently scolded himself for getting that flustered at something so simple.

The two of you did your tasks together before going down to reactor. Just as Dream started doing one of his tasks, a dead body was reported again and he unmuted himself as Toast immediately started borderline yelling into his headphones. 

“Bretman just killed Sykkuno RIGHT in front of me. I literally watched him do it. He killed Sykkuno in COLD BLOOD.” he confidently claimed and Dream, quite uninterested, grabbed his bottle of water and lightly sipped on it, wiping beads of sweat resting right above his eyebrows with his forearm, blindly looking around the darkness, trying to get his eyes to adjust looking away from the computer screen. His eyes searched for the window - it was open, just enough to let a fresh breeze inside, but it never seemed to do that, letting humid air in with open arms like a welcome guest. Florida is fucking hell, he thinks, gulping down some more water.

“No, I didn’t! I seriously did not, he’s the one who killed him and is trying to frame me now. I swear to God, Toast…” Bretman shouted into his worn mic, trying to argue back. 

“Yeah, to be honest, Bretman, you were silent the whole time when Ethan died.” Rae reasoned, earning quite a lot of “ooh”s and causing little “voted” signs to appear next to Poki, Toast and Karl’s names as Bretman tried his best to fight back.

“I didn’t know I was muted the whole time! You know I’m bad at this! Why would I... you know what, nevermind! Vote me! Vote me! You’ll see when Toast kills you all, I don’t care anymore. I literally saw-”

Dream slumps further into his chair, sure that the foam would have a dent of his body shape imprinted even when he’s long gone from it, and unlocks his phone with a quiet sigh. He opens Discord, and wishes he hadn’t, because Sapnap and George are always on the front lines and ready to make fun of him at any chance possible. He types back a stupid joke, calling them losers, but before he can press send, a Twitter notification pops up on his phone that almost makes his painfully sweaty hands lose grip of the phone. 

“this is so boring” your message reads, from your official Twitter account. Dream blinks a few times, and looks up from his phone to observe his murky, empty room, eyes flashing from the window to the ripped chocolate bar wrapper that somehow made its way onto the floor to a cup of coffee from this afternoon. Did the humid air finally get to him? Hallucinations?

He clicks on the notification - it proves to not be a product of his imagination, after all. Three dots dance around on his screen cheerfully, but they suddenly stop. His ears tune in. Bretman is still defending his honor. Something else must’ve interrupted you. His shaky hands barely hit the right letters.

He takes a handful of screenshots amidst his euphoria, and forwards them to the group chat with no caption besides an emoji sticking its tongue out - he wants to tell them to suck his dick, or something along those lines, but your message remains a priority as he rushes back to the Twitter app to reply.

“Right” he manages to write without a typo. “They’re annoying”

Three dots immediately return to his screen like a happy memory, and he almost can’t believe you’re texting back so fast. George would probably humble him by saying it’s because you have nothing better to do, but what George doesn’t know can’t hurt him, Dream supposes, and clicks on your profile instinctively as he adjusts his headphones on one ear. By the time you finish typing your message, the group decided to vote out Bretman, who ended up not being an imposter.

The three dots disappear as quick as they came, and so does the anticipation that bubbled up in Dream’s throat as he sourly leaves to finish the rest of his tasks. The rest of the game stays as boring as it started, save for the giggles and hushed laughter that came from you at every few jokes he made - of which he made quite a lot, in a desperate attempt to make you laugh, at least a little bit. Of course, Quackity was there every step of the way to accidentally mention how Dream sounded a lot more hype and alive during this game than he does ever, but you win some, you lose some, eh?

In the next game you actually decided to set up proximity chat, so of course Dream followed you around everywhere, hot on your tail at all times - what else is he supposed to do, when the chance presented itself, really?

“Are you imposter?” His character obnoxiously ran circles around you as you did your wires task slowly and unsurely since this stream was your first time playing.

“No, but I wouldn’t tell you even if I was, dummy.” You replied, running around his own character briefly before running up to do the rest of your tasks, watching the green astronaut follow you close behind. 

“Why not?” Dream questioned, eyes following all your movements since he didn’t have anything better to do considering he finished all his tasks. 

“Do you not know how this game works?”

“Yeah, but you’d tell me, right? I wouldn’t… rat you out.” He heard a sigh coming through his headphones in response, and his grin widened just a little, watching your character walk away from him.

“I know you wouldn’t.” you replied. “I’ll tell you if I’m imposter, I guess.”

“You wouldn’t kill me, would you?” Dream spoke into his mic, reaching to fix it and realising the way his hand trembled a little, fully aware he was walking the line between flirty and obnoxious more than usual. He lowered his gaze just to see his keyboard reflect the light of the computer back to him - the sweat from his palms seemed to seep onto the keyboard. He refused to think about the mocking things his best friends would say if they found out how nervous he was just to talk to you. 

“No, of course not! I wouldn’t be able to kill you.” You chirped just as a dead body was discovered and the two of you were torn from the conversation. 

In the next one, his screen flashed an ominous black and red with the word “Impostor” and your purple character stood proudly next to his green one, and he snickered to himself, adjusting his headphones one more time (the more he did it, the more he was convinced it was one of those anxious habits of his).

Shifting in his chair, he started moving and couldn’t believe his eyes when he realised the two of you managed to lock yourselves in a room with Corpse and Sykkuno, accomplishing a double kill in barely the first two minutes of the game. The two of you vented while Dream muttered curses under his breath, breaking out in a sweat wondering if you’re going to get caught or not as you casually hummed to a random tune while faking tasks, hitting the notes in such an effortless way that it made Dream relax and get even more nervous at the same time. It didn’t take too long before the body was found, and you seemed to adapt to the game very quickly, as Dream just sat back most of the time and watched you stretch out a whole essay on why you and Dream could NOT have been imposters. 

“Why would they stick together the whole time? Couldn’t they get at least someone else to vouch for them?” Toast complained. 

“Girl, Dream wants some… alone time with Y/N, obviously.” Bretman said, despite being the one most sus of you in the first place, forcing laughter out of the whole lobby, Dream’s sticking out the most as his mood constantly swayed from finding the whole thing funny to being worried sick if you actually find him weird.

“Exactly! And we’re gonna have our alone time if we want to, thank you very much.” 

Well, Dream thinks, taking a stressed gulp of water from his bottle, at least we cleared that one up.

“I don’t think that sounded the way you wanted it to, Y/N.” Karl pipes up, making Quackity burst into another fit of loud laughter, and you immediately protested.

“It sounded exactly the way I wanted it to! Now, vote Rae or else.” 

When the meeting was over, he ran after you through cafeteria, grin splitting out on his face before he even spoke.

“You’re pretty…” his silence extended as he watched your character stare at his. “...pretty smart.”

You snorted. “Right. You’re pretty…” you extended your silence in return, mocking him. “...too.”

His heart jumps. “You forgot a word there.” he says as you stomp out to storage.

“I said what I said, Dreamy.” 

He swears this can’t be healthy for his blood pressure. In the corner of his eye, Discord notifications pop up like crazy. The boys must be watching your stream. His heart swells with both pride and dread, knowing he’s about to be called something along the lines of pretty Dreamy for the next two months.

“How do you know I’m pretty? You’ve never even seen my face.” Dream replies as heat creeps up like a spirit rising from soil, from the back of his neck, seeping into his ears and cheeks somewhat equally. His eyes dart to the window again. Of course it’s the stupid Florida weather that has him burning up, flustered. Maybe he should open another window.

“Is this an invitation to see it?” you say, a teasing tone clinging off your voice and he can practically hear you smiling. 

“No, I’m just saying! If you want to see it, though, that… that can be arranged.” he bites his lip as a physical attempt of holding back the smile that breaks out as he waits for your response, chest puffing in both nervousness and odd confidence.

“Can it? I mean, I don’t need to see it, I just know already, you have those… pretty boy vibes. But I wouldn’t…” you chuckle. “...be opposed to seeing it, for sure. Don’t count on me not to leak the pictures, though. I want the clout.”

“What do you MEAN you want the clout, you’re Y/N! You don’t need clout from a Minecraft YouTuber!” He argues back, a small wheeze escaping him mid sentence as you giggle and run around, with him following your every move.

“You keep my fucking lights on, man! Whenever your Spotify Twitter account thingy tweets that you’re listening to my stuff, the streams go up! I need your clout.” you say as you run into admin and snap Toast’s neck and run back out casually, as if nothing happened. 

“Yeah, that’s how me listening to your songs on repeat works.” he says and you let out some sort of irritated groan.

“Shut up, smartass.” Just as you say that, somebody seems to find the body and you’re pulled into a meeting, where Rae susses both of you immediately.

“No, because both of you are always together! And someone always spots you walking by the place where the bodies are found! At some point that can’t be a coincidence, right?” she accuses, practically yelling into the mic.

“Of course they’re always together, check- check fuckin’ Twitter! They’re trending on like three different spots already!” Quackity jumps in, loud as always, and the lobby gives off mixed reactions.

“What? We are?” Dream asks, and Quackity confirms with a “yeah, man! Check!” and so he complies, quickly pulling out his phone to check the trending tabs. Sure enough, among the politics and sports, “DREAM Y/N”, “PRETTY BOY” and “DREAM FACE” are crammed, sat at 7th, 14th and 18th place, respectfully. A satisfied grin breaks out on his face. At least they see it, too.

“This has to be the first time Dream has trended for something heterosexual.” Karl points out, earning loud laughter from Quackity and Bretman, less loud on your part.

“Exactly! We’re a power couple! Stay mad!” You shouted, with Dream supporting you in the background, although still shyly adjusting his headphones every few seconds, unable to comprehend that oh, this is actually happening.

Both of you get voted out during the next few minutes, but that really means nothing to Dream - they actually do him quite a favor, because the two of you get to excuse yourselves and he sees those three familiar dots dance on his screen again as he leans back into his chair with a dopey grin, playing with the strings of his sweatpants, waiting for your next and next and next message. 

He opens Discord on his computer to type one last message into the groupchat before turning it off for the night:

Dream (03:14): maybe Minecraft wasn’t my calling after all

Dream (03:14): can’t believe I just met my soulmate on Among Us

[wkemeup]

Sunrise (3)

summary: After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meets you. (Modern AU) pairings: bucky x reader chapter word count: 5.2k warnings: none 🧡 series masterlist / series playlist

Bucky stared down at the fresh coffee stained on the sidewalk; a caramel puddle nestling into the cracks and stretching along the lines until it spilled out into the street. He could smell the bitterness and the sweetness in the cream, the steam of it still warm as it filtered up into the cold, autumn air. He cursed at himself under his breath.  

You’d looked so beautiful, even with your eyes wide in shock and lips parted in a gasp as coffee spilled to your shoes. Dressed under an army green overcoat, a sliver of a burnt orange sweater peaked out from underneath. He’d seen that particular shade before, cast over a forest of evergreens and reflecting into the clouds, just above the sun as it set over the tree line.  

But he’d made a fool of himself in front of you and he could still feel the burning in his ears. He felt hot under his jacket and he found himself glancing down the street, wondering if he could make a run for it. Only, you were waiting for him inside and Bucky couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing you.

Gathering what remained of his courage, Bucky parted the double doors and stepped inside. It took a minute to let his eyes adjust, but when the dim lighting came into view, he noticed you were standing by the entrance waiting for him like you’d known he’d decide to follow. You beamed as he caught sight of you and his stomach twisted straight to knots. You were still clutching the donut box to your chest, almost as if you were afraid he’d knock that out of your hands, too.  

“Come on, you can help me set up.” You gestured down the hall to the room he met you in a few days prior. The library with no books on the shelves and cobwebs in the corners. “We’ve got to get you a book before the others show up.”

Bucky nodded, though he didn’t say anything as he followed you. It was pretty quiet without so many people lingering around, but everyone seemed to smile as you approached; perking up from under their clouds and called out your name until you waved back at them. It was like you carried sunshine in your pockets and comfort in your presence, breaking away stormy skies as you passed by.  

Before you could reach the library door, Bucky rushed out ahead of you and grabbed a hold of the knob. You paused, eyes catching his for a moment and a pink filtered into his cheeks. He cleared his throat.  

“Figured I could do one decent thing today after I ruined your shoes,” he explained, pulling open the door for you.  

“You showed up, didn’t you?” you added with a wink. “I count two decent things today, James Barnes.”

He chuckled at that, nodding. “Y-Yeah, okay.”  

You set the donuts on the coffee table and began to push the furniture around into a circle. You shouldered most of your weight into the couch to get it to budge and Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips just watching you. Concentrated frown on your face, determination in your eyes, staring down the couch as if it were your sworn enemy.  

“You need help with that?” Bucky asked, gesturing to the couch that barely moved a few inches while you were out of breath.  

You glanced up at him over the spine of the couch, nodding gratefully. “This one always gives me trouble.”

“I’m sure if you waited for the others to show up, they’d help you move these around,” Bucky said as he placed his right hand on the back of the armrest, his knee digging into the center of the back. You stood next to him, hands on the frame to help push despite the fact that Bucky was strong enough, even without his left arm, to move the couch on his own. But he liked the idea of you beside him, so he didn’t say anything.  

“Oh, I’m sure they would,” you exhaled as they couch slid perfectly into place within the circle. “They all work so hard though, you know? It’s nice to have them just walk in and sit down for a change. Don’t need them thinking I’m expecting work out of them, too.”

“Ah, so that's why I’m here, then...”  

He was surprised by the teasing in his own voice. When was the last time he made a joke? He couldn’t even remember. But you started to smile, that brightness shining right up into your eyes, and it didn’t matter anymore. He’d make a thousand jokes if you would keep looking at him like that.  

“Careful now,” you warned, a glimmer in your eye. “I might need you to help move this couch every week...”

“Wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it?”  

He didn’t know where this was coming from or how it slipped off his tongue so easily, but he liked the way it seemed to catch your off guard. You stilled for a second, a nervous laugh under your breath as you quickly tucked away a few strands of fallen hair. You were flustered. Shit. He was done for.  

“Haven't even seen one meeting and you’re offering to move couches for me on a weekly basis? Consider me eternally grateful, James Barnes.” You plopped down on the couch, reaching for the strap of your bag, though it was a few inches out of reach.  

Bucky leaned down and picked up the bag, surprised to find it as heavy as it was, and gently set it in your lap. He took a seat on the couch on your left, though he left considerable room between you. You started digging through the bag, pulling out book after book and setting them on the table.  

“We’ve got to pick your book of choice,” you explained, smiling at him and clearly eager to see what he would select. “Anything you want. I can get something else from the library for next week if you’re not interested in these. I’ve got some guys reading Harry Potter for the first time. Lang’s on the second Twilight book. Romanoff is halfway through The Odyssey. Barton’s about a few pages to the end of a murder mystery he guessed the plot twist of within the first ten pages, which is just downright infuriating...”

Your nose was all scrunched up and it was the damn near cutest thing Bucky had ever seen. He must have been staring for too long though, because you raised a brow at him.  

Bucky cleared this throat, quickly looking away. He scratched nervously at the back of his neck and tried to steer the conversation strictly away from how adorable he found you.  

“Isn’t the point of a book club to read the same book?”

“I suppose,” you shrugged, “but not my book club. The whole point is just to help these guys feel comfortable, give them a moment of peace, even if it’s for an hour once a week. Sometimes we’ll sit around the circle and talk about what we’re reading. Lang’s working really hard to sell the Twilight books to the rest of the group despite being about a decade late to the game. Most times though, we just read, listen to some music. It’s quite nice, actually.”

So that was what Sam meant by unconventional.

“I don’t know the last time I read anything,” Bucky admitted slowly. He could barely get himself to concentrate on a single newspaper article these days, let alone an entire book. He often caught himself staring at the TV and realizing an episode later that he didn’t have a clue what had happened.  

“A lot of the guys take breaks,” you offered, seemingly reading his mind. “That’s what the donuts are for. Oh, and the coffee, of course.”

You jumped up, making your way over to the pots sitting on the table lining the wall. The pots were already filled and he wondered who took the time to do that for you before you even arrived. You were so well liked around here, Bucky found himself wondering if he wasn’t the only one who felt like you could tell him to do just about anything and he’d oblige without question.

“You want some?” you asked, holding up an empty cup, but Bucky shook his head. He was already starting to get warm and adding coffee to the mix wouldn’t help things.  

You didn’t seem to mind as you shrugged off your jacket and draped it by the door. The orange sweater he’d caught a glimpse of under your jacket turned out to be a cardigan. It flowed long down by your thighs, draped over a simple, white tank top and black jeans. Gold jewelry sat over your collarbone and you had a sudden glow about you, like that hour just before sunset.

Golden hour, he realized. That’s what you reminded him of.  

“It’s warm in here, isn’t it?” you asked, fanning yourself as you set the coffee on the table. “It’s not just me?”

It’s definitely you, Bucky thought. He’d never met anyone who carried such a presence as to melt the icy cold shards planted defensively around his chest. You were the epitome of warmth and kindness and the sweetest damn thing he’d ever seen... but a trail of sweat lined his hairline and he could feel the heat trapped under his jacket.  

“Not you,” Bucky confirmed, brushing at his brow. “It’s hot.”

“Here,” you stood up, holding out a hand to him, “I can take your jacket for you.”

Bucky froze, jaw clenched. He became painfully aware of the empty sleeve on his left side. He wasn’t a complete fool. He knew you must have noticed by now, but taking the jacket off made it obvious that a piece of him was missing, the stub at his shoulder the only thing left in place of an arm he could still feel most days.  

“I’m, uh, I’m okay,” he stuttered out, his eyes falling to the ground, hoping you didn’t notice the flush in his cheeks. He could feel your eyes on him and he was almost certain that if he dared to look up at you, you’d be fixated on his empty sleeve.  

Shame started to burn hot in his chest when suddenly he felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck. When he looked in search of you, he found you setting up a fan at the edge of the room, angling it just enough so that it was sure to reach him on every rotation.  

He swallowed as he watched you. You didn’t ask questions or push him to take the jacket off despite being clearly too warm to keep it on. Instead, you offered him a short smile as you sat back on the couch beside him, a little closer this time.  

“Any better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that's really nice. Thanks.”

You smiled for him and he wondered if he could stay inside that moment forever.  

***

Bucky selected The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Gilman from the stack of books on the table. It surprised you as his hand ghosted over the cover before flipping it over in his palm, a curious look on his features. It was one of your favorites, one not many would choose to pick up in fear of the publishing date in the late 1800s, but it was a short story, one he could finish within the span of the meeting today.  

As he stared down at the unusual yellow pattern on the cover, a frown pushed at his lips as he started to see the strange images hidden under the surface. You found yourself struggling to tear your gaze away from him. With such a reaction to the cover, you couldn’t wait for the end of the meeting just to hear what he thought of the story.  

Soon, the usuals started filtering into the room and you noticed that Bucky had barely said a word as the low hum of small talk and chatter filled the empty space. He kept to himself, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion like he might run at any second as you talked with one of the oldest VA members by the door.  

Upon sensing his discomfort, you quickly made your way back to the couch and you were surprised when you felt the cushion dip a little as he leaned in your direction as if he was using you as anchor; something familiar amongst an unknown. You tried to suppress a smile when he looked at you, but you really liked the idea of being something familiar to him.  

“I’m glad you decided to stay,” you told him quietly, nudging his side playfully with your shoulder. It drew a soft laugh from under his breath and he nodded, gripping tight to the book.  

“Yeah, me too.” He sank back into the couch and relaxed the tension in his body.  

Six on the dot. You turned to the group.  

Tony Stark sat in his usual throne, legs draped over the arm rest, sitting sprawled out over the single chair. Heir to Stark Industries, he’d enlisted himself in rebellion against his own father. He’d ended up in the Air Force for three tours and prided himself on the tattoo on his chest he’d gotten drunkenly off base in his early twenties.  

Natasha Romanoff found her place sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning up against the seat of Tony’s chair. She was a sort of a mystery to you, never spoke a word about her position within the military and how long she served, but she was exceptionally perceptive. Part of you wondered if she was some sort of super spy. Despite becoming a close friend, there was still so little you knew about her history. She rested a pillow in her lap.

Then, there was Scott Lang. He’d found himself in some trouble after his discharge, but he was turning his life around. He had a little girl to stick around for and he was trying desperately to find a job. You suspected his fascination with the Twilight books stemmed more from an unbreakable bond with his daughter than anything else. He took his place on the bean bag chair.  

Clint Barton sat on the table outside the circle. He was a sharp shooter in his time and found more comfort in the distance. He kept to himself and had an exceptionally entertaining habit of making quick remarks under his breath few were fortunate to hear. You were determined to hand him a book with a plot twist not even he could see coming. You resided to put Defending Jacob by William Landay on hold.  

A few others filled out the circle; familiar faces of men and women most would look past on the streets. Dark circles under their eyes, a hardened look about them. Some with tattoos and long beards, other’s draped in leather. Some, you could see the ghost of their former selves in their eyes, but they all seemed to lighten as they sat around the circle.  

A moment of peace. It’s all you could offer and they took it gladly.  

“Hey everyone. We’ve got a newbie in today.” You gestured to Bucky and he slowly lifted his hand in an awkward wave. “This is Bucky. Bucky, this is the group. Play nice.”

“What’s your rank, soldier?” Tony quipped from his chair; legs kicked out over the side. He never had much of a filter, or a sense of restraint. You shot him a glare he didn’t seem to notice, or rather he didn’t care.  

“Sergeant,” Bucky clarified, though you could hear the strain in his voice. He said it as though it burned him, like the very act of the title was painful just to speak.  

“Where’d you serve?”

“Tony, we’re not grilling the new kid today,” you warned, but Bucky cleared his throat.

“Afghanistan mostly.” He curled his hand into a fist, pinching at the pages of The Yellow Wallpaper in his grip. A hardness had swept over most of his features, almost in a protective layer, and you wanted to whack Tony upside the head for stealing the soft undertones in his expression.  

“And the rest?”

Bucky paused, releasing his fist. “Classified.”  

Tony pursed his lips, staring Bucky down over the top lens of his thick rimmed glasses. A testament of wills. A challenge. Then, he nodded, satisfied.  

“Great,” you groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. “Now that Tony here has finished interrogating our newest member, we can get started.”

“Hey, consider it my welcome to the group!” Tony hands thrown defensively in the air. Scott nodded from his couch, remembering his own initiation the day Tony demanded to know the extent of his robbery charges following his discharge.  

You shook your head, smiling spreading back to your lips and you were thankful to find that Bucky had sat back into the couch, relaxing as the attention moved back to you.  

“I think we’ll just spend today reading,” you said. “I’ll put on the playlist Tony recommended – and don’t worry, I did browse through to make sure he didn’t slip any rock anthems in again. We don’t need to give Dr. Selvig down the hall another heart attack when Back in Black starts blaring directly after Yiruma.”

The room laughed and you were purposeful in glancing over at Bucky to see if a smile caught on his lips. It was small, a little uncomfortable as his eyes flickered around the room at the other group members, but he seemed to soften as he landed on you again. You nodded at him.  

“Alright kids, hush up now.” You pressed play and the gentle strokes of a piano began to fill the room. “I’ll wake you in an hour.”

You waited until everyone settled in and opened their books. One of the older gentlemen in the back with a long and burly white beard and a leather vest draped over his shoulders set the open novel on his chest and promptly closed his eyes for his weekly nap. You smiled to yourself as you watched the heavy rise and fall of his chest – the man deserved one decent hour of rest a week, anyway.  

By the time you made your way back to the couch, you noticed Bucky had tensed up again. He was staring down at the book, harsh breaths pressing through his nose as he tried to keep the book propped open with on hand, losing his place as he tried to turn the page. His jaw was clenched so tight you wondered if he’d bite it clean off.  

He didn’t dare ask for help or so much as look in your direction, but it was a determination you’d come to expect from the people you met in these halls. It didn’t mean you couldn’t offer it anyway.  

You quietly opened a drawer at the edge of the room, pushing aside knick knacks and old ketchup packets until you came across a small wooden clip. One of the older members had used it when he was going through extensive PT for his hand and couldn’t pinch his fingers enough to grip the thin slip of the page. You pulled it from the drawer and quickly skirted your way back to the couch beside Bucky.

“Here,” you offered, extending the clip to him as the book fell closed on his lap for the fourth time. He looked up at you, confused. You wondered if he realized how cute he looked when his brows pinched together like that; made him look about ten years younger and wiped the evidence of the war clean off his face.  

You smiled at him. “It holds the pages down for you. Look.”

Gently pulling the book from his lip, you opened to the first page and set the clip at the bottom of the binding. When you released it, the pages stayed open, giving him free range of motion to turn the page without losing his place.  

He blinked a few times as he stared down at the book. It was clear he’d never considered a tool like this and you wondered how many times he had sat down with the intention of reading only to find he couldn’t even turn past the first page. He might have been able to figure out the skill in it if he’d had the patience, but you imagined his own frustration got in the way of that. He seemed to have little patience for himself, as soldiers returning home often did. 

There was a brief moment when the tips of his fingers brushed over yours as you pulled away. His hands were warm, almost feverish in comparison to the chill in your own. A blush warmed his cheeks and his eyes quickly darted down to the pages. Your stomach was in pleasant knots.  

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, a soft semblance of a smile rising sweetly at the edges of his lips.  

You nodded, settling in on the couch beside him and pulling your own book up into your lap. You listened to the gentle strokes of the piano carrying softly through the room until a page turned on your left and then, you let yourself sink into the bindings of the book perched upon your lap.  

***

“So! What did you think?!”

It was the first thing you said as the final group member exited the room. Barely even a footstep out the door and you were already anxiously awaiting his reaction. Bucky was busy pushing the couch back into its original position and he glanced back at you to see you biting nervously on your lip, hands wringing out in front of you. You were swaying onto your tip toes like a kid hyped up on sugar. It was the cutest damn thing he’d ever seen.  

“It was... a little creepy at the end?” Bucky chuckled, glancing down at The Yellow Wallpaper as it sat on the coffee table. “The woman went completely mad.”

You nodded vigorously, the smile on your face beaming and he had to watch himself to keep from mirroring your excitement.  

"It’s a critique on how women’s mental health was perceived in the nineteenth century!” you explained with that giddy look on your face, reaching down for the book and flipping the pages through your fingers, the soft brush of wrinkled paper touching over each thumbprint. “Women were believed to be weak minded and frail, unable to handle more than two hours of mental stimulation. The woman in the story was prescribed ‘rest’ by her physician to treat her depression, essentially restricting her to little more than staring at the walls.”  

You rolled your eyes, groaning dramatically, and drawing a smile to Bucky’s face that ached into his cheeks. “Slowly, it drove her to seek stimulation in impossible places, like the image of a woman she saw in the wallpaper! By the end of the story, that’s who she became. Wild, right?”

You shook your head, seemingly lost in astonishment. There was a slight crinkle in your nose when you smiled that wide, Bucky realized, like even the features on your face couldn’t hope to contain the joy bursting from your smile. Radiated like the fucking sun. Bucky was helpless in his stance, frozen, as he listened to you.  

“You know the author once said, ‘it’s not intended to drive people crazy, but to save people from being driven crazy,’” you continued, setting the book down with such a gentle touch, almost as if it were a living, breathing thing. You handled it with such care and Bucky began to wonder if you’d ever touch him like that – if he was worth such tenderness.  

The thought startled him and he quickly swallowed it back. Jaw clenched, right hand pressed to a fist in the pocket of his jacket. Stone cold expression. And yet – you were still talking about that book, all starry eyed and adorable, and a smile managed to crack through his lips. It was his new favorite book, he decided. Whatever could make you smile like that was his favorite. He’d sit there and read the fucking phone book if you asked him to.  

“She wrote it in retaliation of her own experience of a physician disregarding her depression. It's actually quite remarkable when you think about it. It's one of the earliest American Feminist works of it’s– ” You froze suddenly, hand clamping over your mouth. You winced at him, slowly pealing your palm away. “Oh God, I’m rambling. I tend to get a little excited about these things... You must be so bored right now.”

Bucky couldn’t help the smile as it rose in his cheeks. He liked seeing you so flustered, caught up in a passion he so rarely saw these days. He didn’t know the last time he cared about anything as much as you cared for books. He could have easily listened to you talk like that for hours without interruption.  

“No, no, not bored at all,” he reassured you and you visibly relaxed, relief sweeping through your shoulders. You started to fold up the chairs when Bucky cleared his throat, drawing your attention back. “I, uh, I did like the story, though. Has a lot of relevance today. I see why you like it.”

If he thought you were going to burst before, he should have waited to see how you were looking at him now. Chewing on the inside of your cheek in hopes of suppressing it, though it clearly did little use.  You planted your hands on your hips.  

“Watch what you say, Barnes. I’ll talk your ear off.”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m already down an arm, what’s an ear, too?”

The second the words left his lips, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head; drenching his clothes, goosebumps on his ice, sinking into his veins and freezing him to stone. He woken up from a pleasant dream by the harsh ringing of an alarm. He'd been pushed off a cliff, stomach churning in the freefall.  

You knew. Obviously, you knew.  

You weren’t blind and he was certain you could tell there was a startling absence where his left arm should be, even with the poorly camouflaged sleeve hanging off his side. It wasn’t fooling strangers on the street and it certainly didn’t fool you either, even if it gave him an ounce of peace, like maybe he could pretend he was whole again.

But you’d brought him that book clip for a reason.  

You knew.  

At yet, this was the first time he mentioned it aloud. Actually said the words. Drew attention to the fact that he was a broken mess of who he used to be and now he was waiting for you to flinch, for the familiar shades of pity and embarrassment to cloud over your starry eyes, but he waited and waited and – it never came.  

Instead, you started to laugh.  

It filled the room and washed away whatever panic was surging inside of him within a matter of seconds. The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard and he wished you didn’t shield your hand over your lips in an effort to contain it because – God – he could have spent his whole life sitting in that moment. Tears in your eyes, a smile on your face, looking at him like he was the man he was before the war, like he was something worth looking at.  

“You’re funny, James Barnes,” you said after you caught your breath again, a whisper of a laugh still lingering in your voice. You brushed the tears from your eyes.  

Bucky’s chest felt instantly lighter. His right hand was swinging down at his side and he brought it up to his hair to brush it from his face.  

“I could use a new book for next week,” he started, a little surprised at himself, and judging by the look in your eyes, it surprised you too. But you were smiling at him and it gave him the courage to continue. “Thought maybe you could help me find something?”

“Really?” you asked, practically glowing. “You’ll come back next week?”

He’d do anything if you kept looking at him like that.  

“Yeah,” was all he said, but you looked as though he told you he’d just told you he won the lottery. Maybe he had.  

“Well then, I’d be happy to! Just, um, hold on a second,” you scrambled around the room, looking for a pen and paper. You clicked a pen a few times before doodling in the corner to get the ink moving. When you were finished, you handed it to him. “These are my hours at the library. Come by anytime, okay? If I’m not up front, ask Mrs. Jefferson to page me. She’ll know who you are.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, staring down at the scribbled numbers. Did you talk about him at work? Butterflies swarmed in his stomach at the thought. He wondered what kinds of things you would say about him.  

“Walk me out?” you asked, grabbing your coat from the rack and gesturing to the door. Bucky looked up, not even realizing the room was already set back in its original formation, the empty box of donuts discarded.  

He nodded, following you to the door.  

“You know, I’m really happy you decided to come today,” you said as you passed into the hallway. Bucky kept an even pace at your side and tried not to let the butterflies in his stomach escape to where you could see.  

“Almost didn’t,” he admitted with a tired chuckle.  

“Figured by the staring contest you were having with the building before the coffee incident.”

Bucky winced, but you were smiling as he looked over at you and he felt the tension slip from his muscles instantly. “I am sorry about that...”

“Maybe you can just owe me a coffee,” you suggested casually, as if the prospect of spending time together, just the two of you didn’t make the butterflies crawl a little further up into his chest. “A real one. Not the shitty stuff we serve at the VA.”

Bucky swallowed, pushing the creatures back into his stomach. His throat was dry. “I can do that.”  

He pictured sitting across from you at a café, watching your hands curl around the outside of a mug, the steam of it brushing on your nose. Glistening in the reflection of the sunlight peaking through the windows, draped in the glow of the sunset. He’d buy you a thousand coffees.  

“Okay, well, I’ll see you soon then?”

Bucky looked around and realized suddenly that he was standing outside. The cold breeze had turned into a frigid autumn chill with the sun nearly set behind the skyline. Peaks of orange remained at the horizon, mimicking the colors in your sweater. When he looked down, he could still see the stain of coffee on the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, determined to push past whatever doubt etched into his way. It faded in an instant as he saw your lips curve up high into your cheeks. “I’ll see you soon.”

[edie-baby]

to have and to hold | juri vips

summary: Juri Vips was a bastard of a teammate. Mostly just because you were insanely in love with him and his flirtatious ways. Juri senses a change in your behaviour and when things begin going back to normal, Juri just fucks it up again. (Similar premise to the Mr & Mrs imagine with Liam, but different[?])

word count: 2894

warnings: swearing, still. i don't think i should have to put warnings about swearing anymore, it's basically a given.

Working with Juri Vips was a fucking trainwreck. There was no light way to put it, it was messy, it was painful, and yet you could never stop fucking staring at him. Being his teammate in F2 for the past year and a half, the two of you had gotten quite close, to the point where his family invited you on vacation with them when they were going, and you had joined them once, but realised about two hours in, that it was a thinly veiled attempt from literally his entire family to get the two of you together.

And while you were all for it, being forced to spend so much time with Juri, while he was shirtless nonetheless, was a literal dream come true, it was also incredibly painful for you to stop from pouncing on him at any given moment. Because as much as his family thought there was something between you, it was purely Juri’s charisma and character to be almost constantly flirting with you.

You remember the first time the two of you, a few other F2 drivers had come along as well, had gone to the beach and he had seen you bust out the bikini you knew made you look like a hot piece, he hadn’t shut up about it, or you, for weeks afterwards.

“Well look at you, little miss supermodel. I would have thought you’d be walking catwalks with legs like that, not pushing pedals like the rest of us. God, you look like you just stepped out of my dreams and onto this beach. If you keep looking like that, I think I might have a problem to deal with later in the shower.” He had hollered, and many of the guys around you either joined in or had nothing to say but gawk. Juri’s comments had cemented themselves in your brain however, calling back upon them whenever you felt less than top dollar, which you had to admit was becoming more often in recent months.

Juri had noticed your slowly waning confidence, of course he had. His gorgeous view of you in crop tops, little skirts, and tight shorts had turned into oversized shorts, hoodies, and ill-fitting jeans. All of which still made you the most beautiful girl in the world, but there was something missing from your aura, a general happiness that had been lacking since the new season started a few months ago. In the entire time Juri had known you, you were never one to listen to other’s opinions of you, whether they be good or bad, the only people you had ever listened to and taken words to heart from were himself, your parents, and your boyfriend.

Somehow in the span of about three minutes, Juri had tracked the four most likely culprits of your diminished ego. He knew he hadn’t said anything harmful or damaging to you since the season began, as many of your conversations had revolved around racing, other drivers in the paddock, or your family. Your parents, he was confident in, he had met them many times before, and they were always genuinely warm and welcoming, he supposed there might have been another side to them, though he believed he would have picked up on it by now. Which leaves only your boyfriend, whom Juri had zero confidence in.

Tye was nice, almost disgustingly so, but he was also much too proud of being nice for it to be genuine. He would open car doors for you, give you flowers every few months, and once bought you a necklace with a pendant of his name. But you would never forget that he did those things for you, because as soon as you would mention something relatively negative, those few acts of kindness were shoved down your throat.

Juri, of course, was not privy to that information. All he knew was that Tye’s possessive behaviour and complete lack of care for your wishes meant that there was something beneath the surface Juri was sure was the reason for your confidence, or lack thereof.

So when you came into work one day, to continue shooting some videos for the YouTube channel, wearing a gorgeously fitted pair of jeans, and a halter-neck singlet, Juri knew something was afoot. Also notable was your lack of gold necklace and your beaming smile toward the Estonian.

“You gonna keep staring like that, or do you want to take a photo?” You asked, your voice holding the teasing lilt Juri had missed in the past weeks. Without breaking his gaze from your body, Juri reached into the pocket of his shorts, his hand retrieving his phone and taking a photo of you standing there, tight clothes and bright smile in all its glory. He smirked when he saw your barely concealed smile.

“You’re in a much better mood than usual. What happened?” Juri couldn’t help but ask, the drastic shift in your mood was more than intriguing to him. Your smile widened, taking the last few steps toward his position in a chair behind the large conference table.

“I lost 80 kilos last night.” You whispered, leaning in closer to Juri, the glint in your eyes, the proximity and the tone were all so familiar to him that he couldn’t help but meet you halfway, barely three inches between your faces as the words processed in his mind.

Juri glanced down at your body confusedly, trying to figure out where exactly the 80kg had disappeared from. Then, the pieces began clicking into place. The lack of gold necklace, the tighter clothes, the glowing smile, none of which would have been staring Juri in the face if Tye had a say.

“You dumped Tye?” Juri questioned, his eyes lighting up, his raise in volume betraying just how excited he was for you, and himself. You nodded, eyes softening as you watched the pure joy cross Juri’s face. Him being happy was something that always warmed your heart, but Juri being happy about you finally being happy? You were sure your knees were about to buckle.

“I’m glad. I can have you all to myself now.” Juri grumbled, reaching for your hands that were braced against the arms of his chair. With a sharp tug, your balance was offset, and your body was tumbling toward Juri’s. You landed with a giggle in Juri’s lap, his own laughter joining yours and the two of you simply enjoyed each other’s presence after having an intangible wall built between you during your relationship with Tye.

Juri couldn’t hold a taken woman like he loved her, not when that taken woman wasn’t his to hold. And you, how could you revel in the feel of man’s touch that was anyone’s but the man you supposedly loved. You couldn’t break out in goosebumps, or have a shiver roll down your spine when you felt the familiar pressure of his calloused fingertips pressing into the skin of your back, desperate to keep you close. You weren’t allowed to sigh in content when you felt the warmth of his body seep into your skin, or whimper when his hot breath rolled over the skin of your neck.

But now you could. Now, without the moral implications of enjoying another man, you could sink into this all-consuming feeling you have when Juri is near.

“Morning you two. We’ve got a video to film in the garage if you want to follow me?” The social media manager, Georgina,  a lovely woman in her 40s whom you always went to for advice and style tips, poked her head into the room you and Juri were tangled in, a cheeky smile on her face when she spotted the somewhat compromising position. A blush fell heavy on your cheeks, and you were quick to try and scramble away from Juri.

He had other ideas though. When Juri began moving, you clutched onto him for dear life, terrified of falling to the ground even though it was only about two feet. Your arms circled around his neck, your legs fully wrapping around his hips from where you were straddling him on the chair. His large hands came to rest on the underside of your thighs, hoisting you up higher on his body. Your legs clenched around his middle, the feel of his fingers pushing into the soft skin of your legs was electrifying, and you were sure if you didn’t have a video to film, you would have been telling the Estonian to find an unoccupied office to take what he needed from you.

But alas, you had a job to do. So, still wrapped around Juri like a vice, he carried you through the Hitech office, nodding to other staff you passed, and occasionally nuzzling his nose into your neck to get a good whiff of your perfume. Juri had said multiple times the scent was intoxicating and could bring any man to his knees. You may have gone out and bought an extra bottle to ensure you never ran out after that.

After a few minutes, you stepped into the garage with Juri, well, he stepped in you just kind of floated in. The scent of grease, rubber and a slight hint of fuel invaded your nostrils, and you sighed in content. Juri chuckled at your actions, he always loved watching you step into a garage, or out onto the pit lane to take in the smells of burnt rubber. You told him every time he laughed at you that it evoked a calm feeling within you, it was nostalgic, filled with happy memories from your childhood and the memories of races you shared with Juri on track.

“Alright lovebirds, can we get you in these chairs and we’ll start explaining while we finish getting set up.” Georgina stated, smiling fondly at the love between her two youngsters. Juri sat you down in one of the chairs sitting before the cameras, not leaving your side for long as he planted himself in his own chair and dragged you as close as possible.

Georgina explained the rules of the game, and the way you would be playing it, choosing you to sit in the background listening to music whilst Juri answered questions about you. First, they gave you a list of questions about yourself, asking to circle the correct answers and they would be compared to Juri’s during the game.

“Ok Juri, the first question. How old was Y/N when she started karting?” Georgina questioned. She watched you in the background closely to ensure you couldn’t hear anything, but you were blissfully unaware of everything around you, headphones in your ears, legs tucked up on the chair, scrolling through your phone with the occasional giggle escaping your lips. Each time Juri heard the angelic sound, he would turn to look at you with a look so soft it made the entire team’s heart swell.

“Uh, I think she was 10, I know she started late because she had to argue with her parents to let her do it with her brothers, and I think 10 is about the right age.” Juri answered, looking as though he was thinking quite hard about it. It had been a long time since the two of you discussed your start in karting, it was one of the first conversations you had together, and since then you hadn’t had to talk about generic teammate topics. Juri was proud that he remembered something seemingly insignificant from a year and a half ago, but supposed when it came to you he could never forget a thing.

“Alright, next question. What is Y/N’s biggest fear? Is it A, the ocean, B, goblins, or C, heights?” Juri’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he heard the second answer, trying to figure out why it was even an option in the first place. His eyes focused on one spot on the floor, his brain moving a mile a minute to analyse conversations he had with you.

“Well, we’ve been to the beach together a few times, and thinking back I don’t think she’s ever gotten into the water. So maybe the ocean, but she also said once when we were looking at a castle that she doesn’t like gargoyles, so goblins could be a thing. But she’s definitely not scared of heights. She’s gone skydiving, bungee jumping and climbed bridges and things like that. So I’m going to say the ocean. I feel like I would definitely know if she was scared of something like goblins.” Juri laughed, his eyes still glued to the spot on the floor, his thoughts flowing through his mouth with little consideration of how they could be interpreted.

“What is something Y/N never leaves the house with?” Georgina was hopeful for this question, she was sure it could be the catalyst for the two drivers to finally own up to their feelings after reading your answer. Juri listened to the multiple choice answers, but none of them sounded just right.

“So, the rings sound the closest, but sometimes she will wear lots, and other times only a few, and when she can’t wear them on her hands, she’ll thread it onto a necklace to wear under her race suit, or something so yeah, I’d say the rings.” Juri answered, turning to look at you behind him, wearing the exact ring he was talking about on the ring finger of your right hand.

“And what ring is the one she wears on her necklace?” Georgina probed, knowing the answer and just wanting to see the way Juri heated up when he talked about it.

“Uh, it’s a diamond ring that has a J engraved on the inside.” Juri answered, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of pink. A smile broke out on your face as you watched Juri, his flustered state always made you giggle as he was such a confident and put-together person usually. As a habit, you began spinning the ring on your right hand around, feeling the shape of the diamonds and knowing the initial carved into the inside was a claim over you.

“Do you know where she got it?” Georgina asked. She was getting frustrated, Juri was much more calm about revealing the intimacy of the ring than she had hoped.

“I gave it to her. About a year ago, and then she gave me a necklace with an (your initial) on it. I wear it every day, and it’s the only piece of jewellery I wear while I drive.” Juri answered, his fingers reaching up to toy with the thin gold chain hidden beneath his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at you, spotting the spinning ring immediately and smiling at you.

You looked up at him, a dazed look as you stared at the gorgeous man in front of you. He could see the stars in your eyes, staring at him as though he hung the moon, and if he was honest with himself, if you asked, he would. There was nothing you could ask of him that would be too much, even if you didn’t ask, he would do everything for you. No one had ever held this power over him, he wasn’t even sure it would feel this good if it were anyone else, but you just did something to him. You unlocked a part of him he didn’t know existed.

You were just, everything. To him. You were everything he ever wanted, ever needed, even everything he didn’t know he needed. You opened him up, poured sunshine into his life in the form of your smile, happiness penetrated his bones because of your laugh. He didn’t want to lose that again, didn’t want to lose you to another man. He needed you, and he needed you now.

It was like slow motion, the way Juri surged out of his chair toward you, his hands cupping your jaw roughly as he guided you to your feet. The laptop on the ground pulled the earphones from your ears, your phone clattering to the floor in your surprise. Your hands reached up to fist in his shirts, not wanting to lose this proximity. You had him in your grasp and you’d be damned if you ever let him go again.

Juri pressed his lips to yours, as soft and warm as you’d imagined them so many times before. You kissed him back with ferocity, the eighteen months worth of emotion poured into a kiss to communicate your feelings in a way that didn’t need words. He kissed back just as fiercely, his hands holding your face still to allow him to do exactly what he needed. You were pliable to his every demand, putty in his hands. Juri had always had this effect on you, every fleeting touch or brush of a hand on your waist made your knees weak and your stomach flutter with the force of a thousand butterflies.

Juri pulled away, barely a breath between your lips as he panted slightly. Your eyes were trained on his lips, the fullness of his bottom lip, the redness from your assault on them making them look all the more kissable.

“So, how about we switch that ring to the other hand and really make this a Mr & Mrs video?”

[bruhstories]

Sticky, Saccharine & Sinful

Summary: Professor Jaeger asks his assistant to come over and grade some papers. Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings & Content: language, protected sex, fingering, oral sex (female & male receiving), spanking, daddy kink, bossy Zeke, bratty Reader, tying up, bit of an age gap but no underage shit (we don’t do that here) Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: Huehuehue guess who finally wrote a daddy kink smut? Also I have looped Cherry Cola by Kuwada the entire time i wrote, proofread and formatted this bitch, I think it works with the atmosphere

"Y/N, I'm gonna need you to help me grade some papers later today." Professor Jaeger pushed his glasses with his index finger as he looked up from his book.

"You got it, boss!" You nodded as you entered the staff lounge room at Stohess Uni, two cups in your hands.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Zeke?" The man sighed. “Or at least call me professor.”

"But I'm your assistant, you're my superior, that makes you my boss, boss." Sarcasm dripping down your tongue as you placed his coffee down the table. "All black, two cubes of sugar."

"Thank you. And yes, technically I am your boss, but you're, what, six years younger than me?"

"Seven and a half." You pouted.

You've been working at Stohess University for a little over a year now as Zeke Jaeger's assistant. He was the best philosophy teacher, as well as head of the department, and you nailed your internship interview, aspiring to be like him one day. He even taught you Ethics during your masters, and currently you were doing your PhD research under his coordination. The man was a genius in his field, and you didn't dare disappoint him, but your personalities always clashed. He was calm and collected, you were bubbly and all over the place. He was nice and polite, you were sarcastic and rude. Zeke knew you'd make a horrible teacher for children, but undergraduate students would adore you.

"How can you drink hot coffee in this heat wave?" You asked him as you fanned someone's epistemology essay to cool yourself off.

"It's actually been proven that warm drinks hydrate better than cold ones during summertime." He inhaled the scent of freshly brewed coffee before taking the essay out of your hand.

"Whatever you say, boss." You shrugged and gulped on your iced tea, a few glistening amber drops dripping from the corners of your mouth, down your chin and your neck. "Ah, shit." You wiped the tea with the back of your hand, not catching Zeke watching you curiously. "Why did the AC have to break down today of all days?"

"Dunno." He shrugged and immersed himself back into his book. "Oh, I hope you don't mind coming to my place to grade the papers? I don't think you'll be able to focus in this heat. Besides, I want to take a look at your latest PhD chapter." Jaeger told you absentmindedly, eyes glued to the pages in front of him.

"Sure thing–"

"Don't say it."

"Boss."

"Jesus Christ..."

You adored pissing your ex-professor off, but deep down, Zeke couldn't deny the fact that he loved the authority he had over you. You were a very alluring woman, after all, and any sane man would kill to be as close to you as he was, let alone boss you around like he did. And he had the strong feeling you acted like a brat around him on purpose. You took your leave after downing the rest of your beverage, going to the library to borrow some books for your own research.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You rang the intercom and waited for Zeke to let you inside the building, dragging your feet down the hallway, tired from carrying so much shit with you – laptop, books, essays, papers, pens and highlighters – you were a walking, talking stationery shop and one could only wonder how someone with such a petite frame was so strong. Zeke waited in the doorway and took some of your things, relieving the weight as you sighed.

"Coffee?" He guided you to his kitchen.

"Water, please." You plopped on a chair and unbuttoned the first three heart-shaped buttons of your lilac shirt, tiny beads of sweat bundled up at your collarbone.

"You sure? I'll be keeping you up all night." Jaeger laughed. He was obviously talking about the papers, but to you, the sentence had a different innuendo — not that you minded, you had your fair share of sinful fantasies with the older man. Come to think of it, you were wondering why he was single. Zeke was undoubtedly an attractive man, he could have any woman he wanted. Yet you’ve never seen him on a date, never seen a picture of a woman when you accidentally glanced at his phone, never heard him talk about a significant other.

"Hey, mind if I smoke?" You asked, noticing the ashtray on his table.

"Not at all, I'll join you." He sat opposite you, mug of coffee in his hand. You pulled out a pack of pink cigarettes from your backpack and placed one between your lips, pocketing your jeans for a lighter. His hand extended over the table, lighter in his hand, and you slightly bent your head forward, eyes glued to his. You inhaled the smoke, not breaking eye contact, and exhaled with a sigh. Something about Zeke lighting up your cigarette made your little cunt tingle.

"Thanks, boss." The corners of your lips turned into a barely visible smirk. You really, really liked to tick him off.

"Don't mention it." He told you before lighting his own cigarette. What, no comeback? No objection? "How's your paper going?"

"It's... going." You shrugged.

"You haven't written anything in your last chapter, have you?"

"No, I have," you half-whined, "it's just that I can't find my words. I think I encountered writer's block."

"'S alright, we'll figure something out." Zeke pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase and dropped it on the table.

"Wow, no shit you need help, that's a lot of papers." You twirled the cigarette between your fingers before taking one final puff and crushing it in the glass ashtray.

"Told you." He picked his resting cigarette back from the ashtray. "You can do the first years."

"I'd rather do something else." You whispered to yourself, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, boss. First years, got it." Your manicured fingers pulled the stack of papers closer to you. The exams were already annotated according to subject and year and you took everything you needed before shoving them back to Zeke.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

You were bored out of your mind, fiddling with the red pen in your hand and tapping your fingers on the table with no particular rhythm. It was already dark outside and you barely finished a quarter of your stack while Zeke was halfway through his.

"Could you please stop that?" He asked you without even bothering to look at you.

"Why?"

"It's annoying."

With a groan you rolled your eyes and stopped tapping your fingers, instead opting to fidget your leg, bouncing it up and down under the table. The wooden furniture shook at the movement and Zeke sighed, putting the pen down.

"I understand you're bored, but if you want to be a professor, this is part of the job description."

"I know, I know, but, like, can we take a break? Please? We've been at it for two and a half hours now and I'm just so bored." You looked at him with puppy eyes and a pout on your plump lips.

"Ugh, fine. What do you want to do?"

"I dunno. Got any board games?"

"Only a pack of playing cards." Zeke shrugged.

"Perfect! Literally anything is better than this. I mean look at what this kid wrote: the ship of Theseus ARE a thought experiment. Can you believe it? How can a nineteen-year-old not know proper grammar?"

"Careful, Y/N," he chuckled, "you made a pretty embarrassing error during your masters, too."

"Nooo, don't bring that up!" You got up and walked to the freezer, scanning the contents.

"Why not? It's funny."

"Yeah, for you." You rolled your eyes. "But I still proved my worth." You triumphantly told him, tongue playfully poking out of your mouth from behind the freezer door. Ugh, you were so cute, made to be ravaged. Your eyes settled on the single raspberry popsicle and you picked it up, closing back the door. "Can I have this?" Oh, he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Of course."

With Zeke's approval, you unwrapped the plastic, revealing the rose-tinted dessert, swirling your tongue around its tip. You were a sight for sore eyes, (not so) innocently licking at the popsicle, your gaze on him and his growing bulge. He didn't even bother hiding it, instead relaxing in the chair and drinking you in. It was no mistake that Zeke invited you over, and you weren't stupid enough to believe it was a mistake.

"Do you... want some?" You trailed off as the once cold dessert began melting from your hot lips.

"If you'd be so kind." He patted his lap and you accepted the invitation. His bulge was comfortably uncomfortable against your ass, and you put the popsicle onto his lips, one arm draped around his shoulder. Zeke's tongue moved languidly around the sweet snack and you leaned in, your own tongue licking both the dessert and his lips. It was sticky and saccharine and sinful, and your poor pussy couldn't take it anymore.

"Do you wanna fuck me, daddy?" You naively asked him. He wasn't surprised in the slightest by the name, already suspecting you had daddy issues, in fact counting on it.

"I very much do." His hands were already roaming your body. The popsicle was almost gone, and you deepthroated the last bit, taking the little stick out of your mouth with a pop. Finally, he crushed his lips onto yours and you could tell he had experience. You dropped the stick on the tiled floor, twisting your body to better straddle him. Zeke unbuttoned your shirt as you slowly began grinding your hips against his bulge, earning a groan from him. "Ugh, you bad girl." He threw his head back as you loosened the tie around his neck.

"Are you going to punish me?" You slowly, too slowly unbuttoned his shirt.

"What’s the point of a punishment if you’re going to enjoy it?" He mused, unclasping your bra. You had goosebumps all over your skin and Zeke took one of your nipples in his hot mouth, a hand pinching your other one. You whimpered at the slight stinging sensation

"Does it m-matter if I enjoy it?" His touch became rougher, almost animalistic.

"Of course," he stopped sucking your swollen, oversensitive nipple, "otherwise you won't learn your lesson." You got up and turned around, your back against him, taking your jeans and underwear off, bending down and exposing your cunt to him. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N." Zeke shook his head, removing his own trousers.

"Allow me." You tucked your fingers behind the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down as you kneeled in front of him. His throbbing cock tapped your face after finally being unleashed from its textile cage.

"I suspected you were big, but this? This is too good." You sneered at his member, mesmerised by its size.

"Just shut up and suck it." Zeke pretty much commanded you and you wet your lips, pressing your tongue against the velvety tip. You worked your way around his shaft, enjoying this more than you should've. You pulled back, a string of saliva and precum attached to your lips as you looked up at him.

"Am I doing good, daddy?"

"So good." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head back. You eagerly sucked and slurped until he got bored of your mouth around his cock. Zeke pulled you up, spun you around and bent you over the table. He brought your wrists together and tied them up behind your back with his tie before taking a step back and admiring the view. Ass up, face down, just like he loved it. His foot pushed yours to the side, spreading your legs for him before he gave you a good slap over your ass cheeks. You shot up with a moan but his hand forced you back down against the table.

"I think I know exactly how to punish you." Zeke announced, two fingers spreading your folds as his tongue dove inside of you, lapping at your wet cunt.

"Oh, God!" You groaned in pleasure. No man has ever eaten you out like he did. Most guys did it as a chore. Zeke? He was enjoying every single bit of it, passionately fingering you, his tongue moving in ways you didn't think were possible. "Ah, fuck– so good! Daddy, please! I'm coming!"

The way he venomously laughed told you that no, you were not going to come any time soon. Just as you were about to let loose, Zeke stopped, removing his fingers, another slap on your ass. Tears pooled at your Y/E/C eyes, frustration written all over your face. "No, no, no!"

"I told you, Y/N, you're a bad, bad girl." He bent over and whispered in your ear, his cock pressing against your entrance, his hand in your hair.

"Oh, pleaseee, I need to come! Will you let me come?"

"Hm, it depends." Jaeger straightened his back, hands resting on your hips. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"Yes, yes, daddy, I did! I promise I'll be good!" You tried to turn around to look at him, oblivious to what he was doing behind your back, cheeks crimson, droplets of sweat on your forehead.

"Convincing enough." He shrugged and you heard the condom snap against his cock.  Unexpectedly and without any warning, the man thrusted into your wet cunt and you, again, shot up, but he pinned you back. "Stay fucking put, you little whore." Zeke demanded and you tried, you really tried, but your body had a mind of its own. "I see you refuse to learn."

"No, no, please!" You slammed your face onto the table, squishing your cheek in the process, desperate and helpless.

"That's better." He concluded, sarcasm dripping down his tongue as he rammed his cock deeper into you. The silken walls clenched around his hard member, and he grunted, no other woman pleasing him like your tight pussy did. "You like it when I take you from behind, you filthy slut?"

"Yes– oh my God, YES!" You bucked your hips against his for more pressure and pain.

"What would my students think if they saw you getting fucked like this on their papers?"

"Ah– I don't c-care!"

"What would the headmaster say if she knew you fuck your superior and- ugh- coordinator?" Jaeger thrusted harder and faster.

"Please, Zeke-"

His hand found its way to your neck, tightly squeezing it.

"Wrong name, Y/N."

"Shit, daddy!"

"That's right, I'm your fucking daddy and hell will freeze before someone else fucking touches you!"

"Fuc-k, fuuuck!" You both howled and panted as you climaxed, your entire bodies quivering. Zeke pulled out of you, carefully removing the rubber from his cock and giving you another slap on your perky ass cheeks. You stood up, arms still tied around your back, turned on your heels and pecked him on his cheek, giggling like a schoolgirl, marvelled by the fact that he chose you over anyone else.

"You know what, Y/N? Now that I've found you, I'm never going to let you go." He promised.

"I'm all yours, boss."

[panda-noosh]

something gained {george weasley x reader}

  words: 13.8k

  summary: you’re a beater on the slytherin quidditch team, so naturally, george weasley is your worst enemy.

   genre: fluff

   notes: masterlist - ask me about commissions! - enjoy my good pals. 

----

  the crowds are loud this morning.

   much too loud for a nine am rise, in your opinion, though you appreciate their enthusiasm. the bellows echo through the changing rooms, rattling the walls, poking at your nerves like a teenager prodding a zit.

    you sit on the floor, your back against the wall. around you, your team buzzes, making battle plans to defeat gryffindor, but you can barely hear them over the paired chorus of the chants outside and your own heartbeat. sweat rushes to your palms, and you gingerly wipe them on your quidditch gear.

    “we’ve got this one in the bag,” marcus flint says for what must be the seventeenth time since you first laid eyes on him this morning. “they’re not getting away this time. if we have to get violent, we will.”

   “and start the season off with a disqualification?” you pipe up. “wonderful game plan. very well thought out.”

    “it’s you who needs to listen up the most, l/n. you’re a beater - i want to see you causing damage.”

   you roll your eyes. “i cause damage every bloody game, flint. you don’t have to tell me how to do my job.”

    flint’s lips curl into a frown, his dark eyes glaring at you. you refuse to meet them, instead picking up your beaters bat from the side and getting to your feet.

    “the match starts in two minutes,” you point out. “are we gonna keep talking shit or are we gonna get out there and beat gryffindor?”

    much to flint’s dismay, it’s your tiny little speech that seems to get the slytherins riled up. they cheer, stampeding from the changing rooms, each giving you a warm clap on the shoulder on their way past. flint stays behind, glaring daggers into your head.

   you nod at the open door. “after you, captain.”

    and so, despite the hidden rivalry you and flint have with each other, you walk out onto the quiddich pitch together. the cold air immediately sets you off, a feeling of dread settling in the pits of your stomach; it’s always been easier to play in the warm weather, when the risk of rain is minuscule and you don’t have to worry about obtrusion's. now, however, the sky is overcast and threatening. frost coats the grass beneath your feet. you have to rub your hands together to bring feeling back into them.

    the gryffindors are already there, as you expected. oliver wood stands tall in the centre of the field, his team crowded around him. they all look so confident, a feat the slytherin team have yet to master; your people walk onto the field with heads held high and shoulders drawn back, but the tension between them is always so tremendously obvious that it takes away from the confident aura they’re always trying to convey. it’s not something you’ve ever tried to fix, because there’s only so much you can do.

   you and marcus wade to the centre of the field, giving each other a brief nod before taking your places, marcus right in front of oliver, and you stood by his left shoulder. 

    madame hooch addresses the two captains, ordering them to shake hands before the game begins. as soon as she blows her whistle, you kick off and soar into the air.

   the cold is immediately a disadvantage. it whips at your cheeks and claws at your throat until your eyes are watering, definitely not a good thing when you have to keep an eye out for a two ton flying ball coming right for you.

   you do what you’ve always done, though, and fight through it, blinking the tears away at any moment you are given. as the match progresses, however, those moments get few and far between, the tension rising between the two teams.

    you stop paying attention to the score board, because you have to. already your mind is racing, focusing on a million different things at once. you have to keep an eye on all the gryffindor players, make sure you know where they are so you can knock them from their brooms - and you do. with the skills of a world cup player, you pummel the gryffindor players into the ground one by one, repeating the process when they clamber back onto their brooms.

    “doing well, l/n!” flint cries, whizzing past you at lightening speed. you give him a thumbs up, distracted for only a second, but it’s a second too long.

   you know of the weasley brothers, the beaters on the gryffindor team. they’re good. they come from a family of decent quidditch players, and their childhood training shows through. you’ve played them a handful of times, and they’ve always been equal competition.

    they take your distraction as an opportunity.

    the bludger is whizzing towards you before you can even drop your hand back to your brooms handle. you hear it, the screech as it races in your direction. you cry, slamming your hands into the front of your broom in any attempt to do a downwards dodge, but the bludger catches the rear end of your broom and sends you spiralling towards the ground. 

    your feet slam into the mud and you stumble. pain spears through your ankles and legs, making you whimper, but the anger and determination chases the feelings away, increased only when lee jordan calls out, “gryffindor scores!” over the loudspeaker. 

    you growl, low in your throat, and remount your broom. you kick off with renewed vigour, heading straight for the weasley twins. they circle the pitch, darting to and fro with a synchronisation you and the other slytherin beater could never emulate. it makes you mad. it makes you so, so mad, because this is a competition, and how are you ever meant to win a competition if your team won’t even cooperate? 

    “oi! goyle!” you yell.

    goyle spins in midair, scowling the minute he meets your eyes. “what the hell do you want? we’re in the middle of a match!”

    “i want you to do your fucking job!” and just to demonstrate your point, you slam your bat into a bludger heading right for goyle’s distracted mug.

   he whirls back around, gets ready to scream at you, but you’re already whizzing towards the centre of the pitch. the crowd is louder than ever now, but you have to ignore them, you have to keep going, you have to do some damage, just like flint told you back in the changing rooms. 

   your arms ache. your ankles throb. your fingers are numb, wrapped around the handle of your broom, but you push past all of it. you become a monster, unrestrained as you chase after the bludgers, catching them with your bat, speeding them at gryffindor flyers with a ferocity you have never before showed in a match. 

     one of the bludgers smacks george weasley right in the face. you hear his nose crunch from halfway across the pitch.

    you punch the air. “take that, asshole! woo!”

    the game continues, brutal by the end of it. your nose bleeds when oliver wood catches you with his arm; you get a free hit for the penalty, though, so you’re not even mad. george weasley’s own nose is broken, dribbling blood throughout the remainder of the match. multiple players have nose-dived into the grass.

   but at the fifty minute mark, lee jordan has to grudgingly call out, “draco malfoy has the snitch, the little pest-”

    and that’s the game over. a win for slytherin - first win of the season.

    you zip to the floor to an immediate group hug. it’s uncomfortable, with none of the slytherin players really knowing how to handle affection, but your own excitement chases away the awkwardness. you bundle draco into your chest, one hand in his hair, the other shoved in the air in a pose of victory that the gryffindors scowl at.

   you meet the eyes of george weasley. he cups his nose in one hand, holding his broom in the other, and never before have you seen such malice in someone’s expression. it sends excitement coursing through you. you give him a grin, a sarcastic little wave. he scowls, turns on his heel, and follows his retreating team back to the changing rooms, where they can wallow in their loss for the rest of eternity for all you care.

    ---

    in all your years at hogwarts, never before have you seen the gryffindors and the slytherins more hostile towards each other than they are after the match.

    you tend to stay out of house confrontations. you don’t see the point in them; you’ll play a little dirty during a quidditch match, but you won’t be caught dead sneering at any other houses on your days off. it’s pointless. it’s a quick way to get into some not needed trouble.

    but things are being taken a little too far now, and you’re struggling to keep your nose out of it.

    everywhere you go, a gryffindor has something to say. a puny little first year will yell insults at you as you walk to class. a third year will throw something at you in the dining hall. fellow fifth years will make it their life’s work to make your days a collage of living hells, just because your team managed to beat theirs during a quidditch match.

    “it’s getting quite ridiculous now,” you say into the fire, the head of your father bobbing up and down within the flames. “the match was a week ago, and the gryffindors still haven’t got over it.”

    “so quidditch is still as competitive as it was back in my day then, eh?” your father says, before breaking into a fit of coughing that you have learned to ignore over the years; he hates it when you bring up his peaked appearance, or the way his eyes sometimes roll into the back of his head without warning.

    “i suppose so,” you mumble. “i don’t know what they want me to tell them; i’m just the beater, for christs sake.”

   “hey,” your dad scolds. “everyone in a quidditch team is important.”

   “yeah, but i’m not the one who handed their arse to them on a plate, am i?”

   “you helped with the process.” your dad smiles, tilting his head a little bit; he looks at you like this sometimes, like you’re holding the world in your hands. you suppose it comes with you being his only child, his last remaining family. he is yours, as well, though neither of you ever talk about it. 

   after your mother died, it was just the two of you. at ten years old, you were too young to do much in terms of helping, but then you aged and got your acceptance letter to hogwarts, and for a long time, you were fully prepared to ignore it, pretend you never received it and get on with the faux muggle life you had been trying to settle into these last few years. however, your father has always been a smart man, and even after he started getting sick, he was always telling you to go ahead and do it - go to hogwarts like you were supposed to, like you had always dreamed. 

   and now here you are, miserable.

    “i miss you,” you say when the silence gets too much. you can hear his heart monitor over the crackling flames, and it puts you on edge. “how are things at home?”

   “oh, the usual,” he replies. “days are boring without you, love, but i’m cheering you on. you’re making me so proud.”

   you smile. “i try, dad, i try.”

    “well-”

   before your father can finish his sentence, however, the door to the slytherin common room bursts open. a group of three stampede into the centre - draco, goyle, and crabbe.

   you frown. “do you lot not see i’m a bit busy?”

    draco spins. his hair stands on end, and black soot covers his face. his eyes are startled but wide with a fury you have seen far too often on the young boys face - it still makes you snicker.

    your dad sighs. “i suppose i should let you handle this.”

   “talk to you later, dad.”

   his face disappears up the chimney, leaving you alone with the three panting boys.

   you stand, wiping your hands on your robes. “what happened to you?”

   “those bloody weasleys!” draco exclaims. “oh, i’ll get them. i’ll get them back, i swear to it!”

   you raise a brow. “the weasleys? you’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

   “well, who else?” draco gestures to his soot-stained face. “them filthy twins think they’re soooo funny with their little jokes, but wait till my father hears about this! they’ll be out of this school before they can even blink!”    

   you raise a brow. “is this about the fucking quidditch match?”

    “yes,” draco snaps. you can see the tethers breaking away, his temper rising as he trails his fingers through his hair, breathes heavily through gritted teeth. “of course it’s about the bloody quidditch match. them gryffindors wouldn’t know fair play if it hit them in the face; they just can’t accept that the better team won.”

    you bite your lower lip. it’s been days of this exact same behaviour, these childish pranks just because the gryffindors are mad that the slytherins finally had a taste of victory.

   it makes you mad.

   you curl your fingers into your palm, gazing down at the three younger boys as they pace back and forth, treading ash in their wake. you’ve never been overly fond of crabbe and goyle, but you’ve always looked out for draco - call it an older sibling kind of thing, but you’re always the one sitting next to him when he has something to rant about, always the one rolling your eyes and putting him in his place, because you’re the only person in the world he will actually listen to.

   your protective instincts flare up before you have a chance to stuff them back down again. 

    “i think i need to have a chat with the weasley twins,” you say.

   draco’s head snaps around. “what?”

    but you’re already grabbing your cloak, dragging it over your pyjamas. 

    “y/n, what are you even going to say to them?” draco demands. when you don’t respond, he groans and grabs your arm. “if they do anything-”

    “they’re not gonna murder me, draco.” you shake him off, offering a warm smile. “i might murder them, though. we’ll have to see.”

    draco doesn’t argue. he watches you go, open mouthed and exhausted. you crawl out of the slytherin common room and into the hallways, thankful that curfew has yet to appear - you can march through these corridors with as much anger radiating off of you as possible, and filch can’t say a damn thing.

   that’s exactly what you do, because your fury only builds the longer you walk. it’s one thing for you to be harassed in the corridors by angry gryffindors; you’re a fifth year, and you’ve been through this many times. it’s a completely different thing to go after draco.

   and you understand, of course, that draco malfoy is hardly someone who needs to be protected, covered in bubble wrap for fear of shattering. he’s a little shit, and you’ll admit that as soon as the next guy.

   but he’s like a little brother to you in the sense that he was the only person in the world who knows about your fathers illness, and he hasn’t told a single soul.

    you round the corner, and that’s when you see him. it’s one of the rare occasions the weasley twins aren’t joined at the hip, because as far as you can tell, fred is nowhere in sight. george stands - alone - at the top of the stairs, waving goodnight to a group of gryffindor girls. there’s a slight red tinge to his cheeks, like he’s been running through wind, and you hate how adorable it looks.

   you push aside this thought, replacing it with the anger settled in your system. you march right up to him, grab his arm, and shove him up against the wall with the strength built from years of being quidditch beater.

    he stumbles, eyes widening a fraction before he realises what’s happening. his hand doesn’t even stray to his wand when he sees you, which just makes you mad; you want him to put up a fight. you want him to do something, anything that gives you an excuse to draw back and punch him in the nose. 

    “l/n,” he sneers instead. “what a pleasant surprise!”

    “you really are a piece of shit. you know that, right?”

    he laughs. it’s so jovial, so easy.

   you hate it.

    you shove his chest, willing his attention back to you. “i’m being serious! why can’t you and the rest of your slimy gryffindors just accept the fact that you lost? just because you’ve been lucky with potter on your team, doesn’t mean you’re exempt from losing.” you lean forward. “which, just to remind you, is what happened - you fucking lost, so suck it up and deal with it.”

    george blinks. that stupid grin is still on his face when he says, “christ, y/n, i haven’t even said hello yet!”

   you groan, stepping away from him to trail your hands through your hair.

   george points, squinting one eye in your direction. “draco does that all the time. is it a slytherin thing?”

    “what’s your obsession with draco?” you spit. 

   “he’s a tit. never leaves my brother alone, so he doesn’t.”

   “and is ron not capable of fighting his own battles?”

   george scoffs. “oh, he is, but being the amazing big brother that i am, i like to take the burden off him sometimes.”

   you scowl. george grins.

    “pathetic,” you grumble. “all of you. absolutely pathetic. when the next quidditch match comes around, you’ll be forgetting all about this one.”

   “ah, but the slytherin’s won’t, will they? you lot will be basking in your only victory in three years for as long as you can.”

    you growl, lunging for him. george laughs, placing his large hands on your shoulders to keep you at arms length, and you’re honestly not even sure what it is you plan on doing - scratching his eyes out? punching him in the face? some muggle fighting tactics you don’t understand?    

    “this is adorable,” george comments, casting a glance over his shoulder to where a painting of Sir Edmund Christo hangs behind him. “isn’t this adorable, Christo?”

    you groan, step away from him, shocked at how angry he can make you in such little time. his eyes glint in amusement as he stuffs his hands back into his robes and says, “finished?”

    “go to hell, george weasley,” you spit.

   his eyes pop open. “oh, look at that! you can tell me and fred apart!” 

    “leave draco alone,” you growl. “or next time i’ll put my hexes to good use.”

    ---

   the threat was idle. you weren’t actually going to hex george, or any of the gryffindors for that matter. you love draco dearly, but risking expulsion for him was not something you were willing to do.

    nonetheless, george seems to take your threat seriously, as he leaves draco - and the rest of the slytherin quidditch team - to their own devices. at one point, you even notice him telling ron to stop glaring over at your dinner table, and ron actually listened.

    “this might be the first time in hogwarts history the slytherin and gryffindors haven’t been at each others throats constantly,” says blaise, taking a seat next to you.

    draco scowls, still glaring over at the gryffindors despite your previous scoldings. “it’s weird. i don’t like it. they’ve got something planned.”

    “okay edge lord,” you grumble through a mouthful of yorkshire pudding. “this is literally why we can’t have nice things; you ruin it with your pessimism.”

   “coming from you, that means nothing.”

   you slap the back of his head. draco swats your hand away.

    “look, we don’t have to worry about the gryffindors any more,” you continue. “it was one quidditch match - they can’t hold a grudge forever.”

    “quidditch is a serious game,” blaise says through a snicker, because he’s never understood the fascination, no matter how many hours you and draco spend explaining it to him.

       “serious, but not enough to start a bloody house war.” you tap draco’s hand. “now stop staring and eat your roasties; you’re starting to look desperate.”

   draco scowls, but prods his fork into a roastie nonetheless.

    but now your attention is caught, no matter how much you want to forget all of it. the gryffindors aren’t worth your time and attention. they’ve done nothing but make your life a living hell these past few days - most of your hogwarts experience, actually - so why give them even the tiniest bit of your attention?

    you glance over to the gryffindor table. george is already looking at you.

   it’s reflex when you scowl. your eyes meet his, and you remember the night before when he was laughing, teasing you for your anger, and with those memories comes a surge of fresh anger, all pointed directly at him. you wonder if he feels the same, if he perhaps shielded his own frustration with humour; you don’t know an awful lot about the weasley twins, but from what you have gathered, that seems to be a common theme. they play pranks, and they tease people, and deep down, they are most likely dying inside.

    dying because they lost a fucking quidditch match.

    you look away when george sends you a grin. “idiot.”

   draco looks at you. “huh?”

    “nothing.” you stand, brushing your hands down your robes. your dinner was finished a long time ago; you were only staying seated to make sure draco didn’t throw himself into further conflict - not after you smoothed things out the night before. “i’m off to the library for a bit. you-” you poke draco in the cheek. “stay out of trouble, alright?”

    draco stares after you; he knows what off the library really means, and you appreciate that he isn’t blabbering the truth to the entire table. you give him one final smile before walking off, heading straight for the slytherin common room.

   it’s empty when you clamber inside. slytherin’s don’t spend an awful lot of time in the common room - that means socialising with one another, sharing pleasantries, and none of you are particularly fond of that kind of thing. you don’t mind, hating the faux pleasantries yourself, but it also gives you free rein to use the fireplace whenever you please.

  you sit on your knees and pull your wand out. it takes a bit of memory power before you can utter the spell your dad has illegally been trying to teach you since you left for your fifth year at hogwarts, but you eventually manage it. your body shrinks - at least, that’s what it feels like - and before long, heat is clawing at your face, and you’re staring into the family living room.

   what used to be the family living room. now, it’s empty besides your dad, curled up in the arm chair, watching the muggle news. he doesn’t notice you at first, giving you the time to analyse his form without him putting on a brave face. 

    he looks sick.

   very, very sick.

    you swallow thickly. his hair is thinner today than it was yesterday, if such a thing is even possible. his baby bird bones are tangled upon the arm chair, covered by an exceptionally thin blanket that makes you hope with every fibre of your being that he has the heating installed, running at full blast. his lips are chapped, and his eyes are bruised from lack of sleep, and just seconds before he turns to see your head bobbing in the fireplace, he coughs blood into a light blue handkerchief.

    his eyes widen when he spots you. he quickly shoves the handkerchief into his back pocket, stumbles from his arm chair and drops to his knees by the fire.

   “y/n!” he exclaims. “goodness, you could have made a little bit of noise. i didn’t even notice you!”

    “hi dad,” you reply quietly. “how are you?” 

    “very well.” he grins, grabbing the thin blanket you suddenly despise. “i’ve been crocheting, finished this a few nights ago. i was thinking of sending it to you, but the owl isn’t back yet, so you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

   you force a smile on your face. it must be a family trait, all these forced smiles. “that’s great, dad. you’re getting good at those.”

    “yes, well, i’ve got a lot of time on my hands now that i’m not running after you.” he scowls, but it lasts only a second before his expression breaks into a grin. “but enough about me; how are things with you? hogwarts treating you good? are those kids still giving you a hard time?”

   “dad, we spoke yesterday. how much do you think has changed?”

   he waves a dismissive hand, dropping his chin upon a shelf made by his interlocking fingers. “each day is a chance for new experiences, my dear.”

    “i nearly got in a fight with one of the beaters from the gryffindor team.”

   your dads eyes widen. “love, what have i said about using violence as a way to solve problems?”

    “i said nearly!” you exclaim, folding your arms across your chest, and even though he can’t see your arms, you know for a fact he is imagining you in this very stance, so familiar from your childhood. “he’s a real pain in the arse, dad, you don’t even understand. he winds me up something shocking.”

   “who is this boy anyway?”

   “one of the weasleys,” you grumble. “george.”

   your dads eyes pop open. for a brief moment, there is a flicker of life back in his body, startling you. “a weasley? goodness, y/n, i remember that family well! molly and arthur were in my year at school!”

    “yeah, well, george and fred are in my year at school, and they’re a set of bastards.”

    your dad chuckles, because that’s what he does when you get like this; he laughs, and he shakes his head, and he pretends you have the potential to be a Hufflepuff, just like he was back at hogwarts. 

    “i’ve never met them personally,” he says. “but i’ve never met a bad weasley in my life; some could be a bit overbearing, but they always had good intentions, and i think that’s what matters.”

    “i don’t think george has ever had a good intention in his life.” you slump forward, propping your chin on your palm. “all he cares about is quidditch and making people’s lives a living hell.”

    your dad frowns. “oh, love, i don’t think that’s true. i think you’re just angry at him. what did he actually do?”

    “he’s been tormenting draco since the quidditch match.”

   “is draco your little successor?”

   you scowl. “draco’s a little shit, and i’ll be the first to admit that, but george and fred are just taking the piss now. the match was a week ago. they need to get over themselves.”

    he hums in response, looking thoughtfully into the fire. “well, i hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’re quite competitive when it comes to quidditch, too.” 

    “not that competitive. i’m not a sore loser, that’s for sure.”

    “listen, i’ve never been an avid quidditch player, so i don’t know what it feels like getting sucked into that environment, but i’ve seen you get into some pretty deep dramatics over it. maybe george is just doing the same thing.” he shrugs. “nobody likes losing.”

   you scowl; sometimes you hate your dads ability to make sense, to explain every situation like it’s the worlds fucking philosophy. huffing, you cross your arms and lean your head upon them, staring at your dad with a disproved expression.

    he meets your gaze and laughs, raising his hands in faux surrender. “i’m just saying, love. i’m happy you’re sticking up for draco - god knows that boy needs a friend - but i don’t want to be receiving any owls from your teachers informing me about your expulsion because you’ve got in some fight with a boy in your year.”

     “i can’t make any promises on that, dad.”

    he rolls his eyes, no malice in the action. “whatever. just be a little wise, alright? you’ve got exams coming up, and i don’t want you flunking over something like this.”

    the mention of exams makes your stomach churn; through all the drama taking place these past few days, you had forgotten all about the end of term exams, approaching much quicker than you’re prepared for.

    dad smiles, as if reading your expression. “you’ll do great, love. i know you will.” he glances over his shoulder, spots the clock hung on the wall before turning back to you. “you should get going. it’s getting late.”

    you raise a brow. “will you be alright on your own?”

    “i’ve been on my own for a while now, sweetheart - i’ll be fine.” he smiles, blows you a kiss before swiping his arms through the fires flames, sending you back to the common room before you can even blink.

   ----

    christmas settles amongst the hogwarts students, and exams are dangerously close.

   quidditch must be set to the back burner, a fact that leaves you slightly depressed as you wade through what feels like a hundred hours of classes you have no interest in. revision piles up around you, leaving with you very little sleep and very little patience.

   call it a slytherin thing, but the desperate need to succeed has overtaken your entire being these past few weeks. you haven’t even spared george weasley - or any of the gryffindors - a glance, too absorbed in spell books to pay attention to their continued jeers. 

    george doesn’t go near you.

   you find it weird, of course, but that tiny voice in the back of your head scolds you any time you think too deep into it. you have to remain focused on exams, and exams only, because you have not left your dying father on his own for so long just to come home with no O.W.L’s. you have to succeed for his sake, to show him these difficult few years have not been for nothing.

   you’re in the library with draco on this particular day. outside the high windows, snow drifts pleasantly from the sky, and you can imagine the quidditch pitch in that moment, beautifully blanketed with little snowflakes that you will have no access to, because you’re stuck in the stuffy library with a slytherin fourth year who wouldn’t know the meaning of concentration if it struck him in the face.

    “why are you even here?” you snap, just as draco makes another comment about a passing gryffindor fourth year.

    draco raises a brow. he’s leaned back in his seat, so casual, textbooks open in front of him, though he pays them no attention. you don’t think he’s even glanced at one since he sat down. “what do you mean?”

   “i’m trying to revise.” you tap the front of your potions book to exaggerate your point. “in case you’ve forgotten, our exams start in a week. i don’t have time to sit here and scowl at gryffindors with you.”

    “i never invited you to scowl at gryffindors with me.” he throws a pencil across the room, just missing a distracted first year. “i can do that perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

   you slap his arm down, giving him your customary grimace. “wind your neck in, draco. how many times do i have to tell you you’re not special just because you’re a malfoy?”

    he opens his mouth to respond, but takes one look at your deadly scowl and goes quiet. he huffs through his nose, folding his arms over his chest as he leans over his textbook and gets to reading.

    you join him, tracing your wand over the words that are failing to embed themselves in your mind. why you ever decided to take potions - with snape as a teacher, no less - will forever be beyond you, and one of the greatest mistakes you have ever made in your hogwarts life. nothing he says makes any sense, and although you’re in his house, he still derives great pleasure in seeing you suffer at the hands of-

    “malfoy! are you studying?”

   your head snaps up. draco joins you.

   walking through the doors, and the most likely suspect of the jeer, is george weasley.

   your heart barrels into your stomach, a fresh surge of anger coursing through you at the mere sight of him. he’s done so well keeping himself to himself these past few weeks, and seeing him now - right back to square one - makes you want to punch him in the face all over again.

   because he strolls towards your table with that stupid little grin on his face, the evidence of a smirk taking place upon his face, and you hate that it suits him so well. you hate that you can’t even bring yourself to deny his attractiveness, no matter how hard you try.

    you slam your textbook closed. “let’s go, draco.”

   “what does he want?” draco stands and calls over to the approaching weasley twin. “where’s your dumb little sidekick, weasley? got lost in the halls?”

    “oh, would you-”

   your protest is cut short by george’s laugh. “actually no. he’s got a revision class with professor sprout, so i thought i’d come in here and check on my favourite beater.” he looks at you, smiles. “got a minute?”

   “no.” you scoop your textbook into your arm and stand, grabbing draco’s collar. “let’s go, draco. one more wrong move from you, and mcgonagall might not be so nice.”

    draco thrashes against your grip, grabbing the table to prevent you from dragging him right past the grinning weasley and into the hallway. “what do you want with y/n?”

    george raises a brow. “why would i tell you?”

   “because i’m their friend, and last time i checked, you’ve done nothing but torment them since that bloody quidditch match.”

    you groan. “again with the quidditch match? i thought we dropped that ages ago!”

    “apparently malfoy here holds grudges.” george turns to you again, ignoring malfoy’s disgruntled protestations. “i literally just want to have a chat; no funny business.”

    “no funny business?” draco screeches. “don’t listen to him, y/n. anything he wants to say to you, he can say in front of me.”

    a burst of affection blossoms in your chest. you push it down, turning to draco. “i can handle this, mate. you just go and find pansy or whatever it is you do. i’ll catch up.”

   draco narrows his eyes, going still in your grip. “you’re sure?”

   “when have i ever not been able to handle myself?”

   he pauses. “good point.” giving george one final warning glare, he straightens his robes rather theatrically and strolls from the library like nothing happened, like he hadn’t just made a massive scene on your behalf.

    with draco gone, you and george stare at each other. he’s got these pretty brown eyes, a little wide, a faux play on innocence. you see right through him, though. you recognise the glint of mischief he does nothing to hide, dancing behind those pretty brown eyes.

    finally, he says, “got yourself a little body guard, have you?”

   “draco’s protective.” you gesture towards his discarded chair. “take a seat, i guess.”

   grinning, george sits. you follow his lead, scooching your chair back a little bit; you have no idea what he has up his sleeve, and you’re not willing to find out.

    “what do you want?” you ask.

   “i know you and i didn’t exactly hit it off when we first spoke,” he begins.

    “that’s not my fault.”

   he pauses. “i think it was, but that’s not why i’m here.”

   you scowl, folding your arms over your chest. “you were the one being a dick to draco; you started it.”

    “i started it? you were the one pushing me up against a wall! and not even in a good way!”

    “because you were-”

   “being a dick to draco, yes, i heard you the first time.” george shakes his head, trails a hand through his hair. “now you’ve got me off track and i haven’t even been sat for two minutes.”

    “i don’t want to hear any apology - i know you don’t mean it.”

   george scoffs, glancing at you without entirely looking up, which is a look you never thought you would find attractive, but here you are. “i didn’t come here to apologise. in case you didn’t catch on, i don’t think i did anything wrong.”

    “no, you never do.”

    “but, i did come here to talk to you about something. just something i heard on the grapevine.” 

   you pause.

   george smiles, but it holds none of his usual playfulness. this smile actually looks genuine, maybe even a little soft.

    “so i was walking through the corridors - all on my lonesome - the other night, when i came across the slytherin common room.”

    you blink. you don’t know what else to do, having no idea what he even means. 

   he continues. “the door was left open, which i thought was a little weird; usually them things just close over by themselves, and you’ve got all the passwords and protection spells and stuff keeping peeping toms out, isn’t that right?”

    “what are you-”

    “does anyone else know your dad is sick?”

   you honestly would have preferred it if he had just drop kicked you then and there.

    you stare at him, waiting for a punchline that very clearly does not exist. you can scarcely believe your ears, let alone come up with a decent response to such an obtrusive, confusing question. confusing only because you have no idea how he could have ever found out, no idea how he just managed to peek his head into the slytherin common room when every enchantment claims it impossible.

    george stares back at you, his smile still present. it’s still soft, like he’s trying to test the waters, but you see no kindness in it now. 

   you push your chair back, very nearly stumbling over its legs in your haste to get as far from him as possible. that grin fades, his eyes narrowing as he tries reaching for your robes, but you pull away before he can get too close.

    “you nosy little shit,” you hiss, voice trembling. “you nosy, disrespectful little bastard!”

    “hey, hey, hey!” he stands, palms up in surrender. “i’m not teasing, i’m genuinely curious! you never talk about it, so-”

    “i never talk about it because it’s nobody else’s business. especially not some filthy little gryffindor who thinks he’s owed the god damn world!”

    george’s eyes widen. “that was so uncalled for. i was giving you someone to confide in!”

    you laugh, bitter and harsh. it makes george flinch. “and you think that person should be you? after everything? go to hell, george weasley.” you turn on your heel, not even bothering to gather your textbooks, or your quill - you’ll get them later. “and keep your massive nose out of things that don’t concern you!”

    and before george can say anything, you’re speeding out of the library, trying desperately to halt the tears threatening to pour down your face.

   ----    

    “i don’t understand how he found out. how could the door just stay open?”

    you keep your voice down, terrified of the other slytherins hearing what you have to say; the changing rooms are already packed, people fighting over garments and equipment, marcus already mouthing off about the lack of preparation the team had for this game due to exams.

    draco sits beside you, knees pulled to his chest. he stares out at the open space, kneading his bottom lip between his teeth in that thoughtful way he always does. his brows are furrowed, eyes narrowed.

   “it doesn’t make any sense,” he says at last. “the entrances to the common rooms have enchantments and all that stuff on them. sounds to me like he’s lying through his teeth.”

    “but then how else did he find out?”

   draco hollows out his cheeks and shakes his head. “beats me.” he turns to you then, slaps a hand against your knee. “but we can’t focus on that just yet. we have a match today.”

    you sigh, tilting your head back against the wall; your energy has long since been sucked out of you, a week straight of exams not leaving you in the best state, though the excitement of finally being back on the pitch drives you to stand and join the rest of the team.

    slytherin versus hufflepuff today; should be an easy enough win. 

    you mount your broom and get started as soon as the whistle is blown. 

   soaring through the air, your adrenaline kicks back in. for the time being, you are able to ignore the anxiety throbbing in the back of your head, focusing only on the task you have been given. a few hufflepuff’s are wiped out in as little as ten minutes into the match; the slytherin’s in the crowd are howling their excitement, jumping up and down with fists in the air. 

   you look down, meaning to wave at blaise as he jumps up and down in the stands, but it is not blaise your eyes immediately land on. 

   you spot the shock of red hair almost immediately, sitting in the stands with his eyes trained on you. you’ve seen him at these matches so many times - and why wouldn’t he be? a player on the qryffindor team, an avid quidditch player. why shouldn’t he be watching you play right now?

    despite this, his presence distracts you. 

   “y/n!” draco shrieks, before a bludger whizzes past you. goyle, the god send, just manages to knock it away before it slams into your ribs.

   you spin, gasping. goyle sends you a dark look as draco calls out, “you okay?” you give him a shaky thumbs up, take one final look at george in the stands before whizzing across the pitch, determined not to let your attention slip again.

    but he’s there. he’s there, and there’s no way you can ignore him after yesterday. that smile of his, those big brown eyes, his confusion when you lost your mind and started yelling at him. it just felt like the right thing to do, and even now - after having a bit of time to think about it - you’re still angry. what draco said was right - george was probably lying through his teeth when he-

    “y/n!”

    goyle isn’t on the ball this time.

    you spin just in time to get a bludger straight to the chest.

   it knocks the air out of you, sends your broom spiralling to the floor. your fingers - surprisingly numb - slip from the handle, and you crash into the grass, flat on your back. 

    “mother of god,” you groan, rolling onto your side as madame hooch blows the whistle for a time out.

    draco is first by your side, slipping to his knees. “are you daft?”

   “no, i’m winded.”

    “bloody hell.” he grabs your arm, rolling you onto your back. you stare at the sky, disoriented. “can you keep playing?”

   “yes.”

   “are you just saying that?”

    “probably.” with one hand curled round your middle, you push yourself up. draco helps you to your feet, hands you your broom, and before madame hooch - or madame pomfrey for that matter, who is yelling at you from the sidelines to go over for a check up - you mount your broom and kick off again.

    your entire body screams in protest the entire time, ribs burning, chest tight. it takes everything in your power not to slip into unconsciousness. black dots sneak into the edges of your vision, but you push them away and keep playing.

   you keep playing, but not necessarily well.

    you make a hit for a bludger with your bat, only for marcus to curse you out for nearly taking a swing at his head, instead. your broom spirals in all different directions, you suddenly unable to keep it under any resemblance of control. your hands tremble against the handle, eyes slipping, slipping, slipping-

    the whistle blows again. you open your eyes. you’re on the ground again.

    “someone get them to the infirmary!” madame hooch screeches. “the match will commense with the sub - where’s crabbe? crabbe!”

    “no,” you grumble. “no, i can play. i’m fine.”

   “you’ve just passed out, you idiot.”

   george’s voice startles you back to reality. your eyes snap up, meeting his just as he puts an arm beneath you and hauls you off the floor. 

    and you could protest. you want to protest, because george weasley - of all people - should not be the one carrying you to safety, but your chest aches, and all your muscles are on fire, so you don’t even move. you just flop against him, trying desperately to keep consciousness as long as possible.

   it doesn’t work out that way, though. the black dots take over your vision before you’ve even reached the infirmary, the last thing you see being george’s furrowed brows and worried scowl.

   ----

   you wake up to darkness.

    curtains drawn, a quilt tucked beneath your chin, body comfortable against a soft mattress, you’re half tempted to just roll over and go back to sleep.

   that thought is squashed when you look to your side and spot george sat by your bedside.

   he’s fast asleep, head drooped, arms folded across his chest. he looks peaceful, though his hair is mussed, like he’s trailed his fingers through it numerous times.

   you push yourself onto your elbows and glance around; you’re in the infirmary, your body feeling good as new with whatever spell madame pomfrey put on you. clearly she thought you needed the rest, as it is now pitch black outside, and the curtains around your bed have been drawn to separate you from the other patients.

    you grab your wand from the bedside table and whisper “lumos.”

    george jerks awake.

    his chair screeches against the floor, making you wince with the volume. it sounds particularly loud when you’re in a room with people fast asleep, and apparently george thinks the same way. he squints into the darkness, before his eyes pop open at the sight of you.

    “you’re awake!”

   “what are you doing here?”

    in all honesty, you don’t mean to sound so harsh. it just kind of happens, a reflex when it comes to george weasley.

   he frowns. “i came to make sure you didn’t choke on your tongue in your sleep. i know how you slytherins can get.”

    “what happened?”

   he settles back in his chair, regarding you with a tired expression, though his raised eyebrow and wild hair make him look oddly attractive beneath the pale wand light cast upon his face. “you don’t remember?”

   “i remember. . . bits and pieces.” you wince. “we lost the match, didn’t we?”

    george smiles. “it was bound to happen. hufflepuff still had a full team by the end of it, and i think diggory was using slytherin’s weakness to his advantage.”

   “but we had crabbe as a sub!” 

    “crabbe is god awful. goyle’s on thin ice. you’re the only beater on that team keeping things going.”

    you scowl, slumping back against your pillows. it’s not like you had desperately high hopes for slytherin to win, but the fact that it was you who forced the loss upon them makes you angry - and a little bit embarrassed. 

   you flick a glance at george. “is flint mad?”

    george scoffs. “who gives a shit what flint thinks?”

   “i do. he’s the teams captain.” you close your eyes, throw your head back. “he’s gonna give me such a bollocking when he next sees me.”   

    “you were a little distracted up there.” george leans forward. “what happened?”

    and then you remember.

   that moment, just before the first bludger was barrelling towards you. you’d spotted george in the crowd, that shock of red hair, and his eyes had met yours, and you just zoned out. it was uncontrollable; once it started, you couldn’t drag your mind away from it - the fact he was there, the fact he was looking right at you, the fact you kind of wanted to talk to him.    

    “it was nothing,” you grumble, awkwardly picking at the quilt covering your legs. “i just felt a little ill, that’s all; not really the day for a match, was it?”

    george scoffs. “i’ve seen you play brilliant games of quiddich in blizzards, y/n. don’t sit there and tell me a little wind put you off your game this time around, because i know it’s a lie.”

   you scowl, but make no attempt to correct him. there isn’t really any point when he’s looking at you with that grin on his face, an eyebrow raised, a silent dare for you to go against him right now.

   you look back down at the quilt. “i could have carried on playing, you know. i was fine.” 

   “you fell unconscious when i was carrying you to the hospital wing.”

    “that doesn’t mean anything. my body gave up because the adrenaline stopped, but if i’d have just carried on playing-”

   “you probably would have broken a few more ribs.” george taps your nose. “and we can’t be having that.”

   you swat his hand away, scowling. “i still hate you, you know.”

   his smile drops, and for the first time since you woke up, he actually looks upset. he stares at you, those doe-like, mischievous brown eyes forcing you to look away, because you can’t stand them for very long without getting all giddy. it annoys the hell out of you.

    slowly, he leans back, fingers clasped in front of him. “is it because of what i said about your dad?”

   you close your eyes. “i was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up.”

   “but that’s it, isn’t it?” he pushes. “you think i was out of line for asking you about it. you think i was teasing you, or something.”

    “it’s not exactly far-fetched though, is it? you’ve dedicated your entire life to taking the piss out of people from slytherin, so why should i think i was any different?” 

    “because you are different.” george grits his teeth, like the words have caused him physical pain to admit. “i wasn’t - christ, y/n, i wasn’t making fun of the fact your dad is ill. i’m not that bloody cruel.”

    “with the way you treat draco? had me fooled.”

   george’s nostrils flare, lower lip disappearing behind his teeth. “are you and draco a freaking couple or something?”

   “no.”

   “then why do you feel the need to stick up for him every two seconds?”

   “because he’s my friend, george, that’s why!”

    george rolls his eyes, like the mere idea of draco malfoy having friends is unbelievable to him. 

   “what?” you push, leaning forward to meet his eyes. “why is it so difficult for you to wrap your head around the fact i’m friends with malfoy?”

    “because you’re so much better than him.”

    he says it like it hurts, teeth gritted, eyes refusing to meet your own. he says it like the walls are crumbling and this is his last chance to admit the truth. he says it like he hopes you don’t hear him.

    you stare, unable to comprehend his words, because they don’t really make any sense to you. “no i’m not.”

    george stiffens.

   you barrel on, suddenly passionate. “no, i’m really bloody not. i got sorted into slytherin for a reason, george, just like you and all the other weasleys got sorted into gryffindor. draco and i, we think alike. we deal with problems the same way.”

    “that’s bullshit,” george scoffs, finally looking up. “you keep malfoy in check, because you know the difference between right and wrong.”

    “i keep malfoy in check because i’m not an idiot. just because i stop him from doing daft things, doesn’t mean i don’t agree with his intentions.”

   george swallows. you watch his throat bob, the emotion slipping into his stomach, forcing that mask upon his face that you saw disappear for only the briefest of moments during this confusing conversation.

   finally, after a moment, george claps his hands to his knees and stands up, not unlike how your dad rises from his arm chair on his particularly bad days. all huffs and puffs, grunts of discomfort, bones creaking from lack of movement.

    “alright then,” he says simply. “i’ll leave you to it then, shall i? you can get back to - i don’t know - plotting doomsday or something.”

    you growl. “grow up.”

   he gives you a wave, sarcastic, over-the-top just to make you mad. you don’t humour him with a response, instead just watching him leave with your arms folded over your chest, anger seeping into every inch of your freshly-healed body.

    it’s crazy how he can do that to you so easily, how he can wriggle his way into your brain, convince you he has good intentions, only to leave you feeling angrier than when he first walked in.

   ---

   you get out of the infirmary that day, having fully healed thanks to madame pomfrey’s magic. you thank her, offering to send some flowers up to her room as soon as possible. she smiles and says, “just like your father.”

    you manage to avoid flint for most of the day. him being the year above you, it’s easy to miss him in the hallways, and you certainly have no classes together. however, you were a fool to think he wouldn’t be tracking you down any time he possibly could, because as soon as you sit down at the slytherin table that evening, he is right beside you in seconds.

    you glare at your mashed potatoes, speaking through gritted teeth. “don’t wanna hear it, marcus. really, really don’t wanna hear it.”

    “and we didn’t want to lose the match, but here we are.” he shoves your tray away; your food lands on the floor. none of the other slytherins look up. “you gonna explain to me what happened?”

    “why do i need to explain anything to you?” you shoot back, before gesturing to your upturned dinner. “get up there right now and get me a new plate, or so help me god-”

   “you’ll what? sabotage another match?” 

   your eyes widen. “sabotage? i didn’t take a bludger to the chest on purpose!”

    “explain your little performance with weasley then, huh?” flint leans forward, so close you can smell the peppermint on his breath. “has he finally got in your brain, yeah? managed to turn you against us. i don’t forget that your dad was a hufflepuff. and what was your mother?”

   you scowl. “keep my parents out of this.”

   “oh yes!” he exclaims. “a gryffindor! funny how that works, isn’t it? i can imagine you have a soft spot for the enemy, growing up with one and all that.”

    fury erupts in your chest. you stand, nostrils flaring, fingers curled into fists at your sides; so easily you could draw back and punch him, flatten him on the ground of the great hall in front of everyone. so easily you could make him pay for throwing your parents into this.

    but you don’t. you’re tired. you remember your dads voice, his silent plea for you to just take things easily this year. he isn’t well enough to handle any more trouble you may bring to his doorstep.

   and so, it’s with hesitance that you step away from the slytherin table. you lean down, lower your voice to an almost deadly whisper when you say, “i’d sleep with one eye open, you little shit.”

    you turn on your heel and start towards the door, starving but you don’t care. you have to get out of there before you lose your temper even further, before you banish the sound of your dads voice and make a mistake.

   ----

    draco finds you a few hours later, because of course he does.

    he probably heard all about your little altercation, and you have no doubt in your mind that it’s made him mad. you’re protective of him, but it works both ways, and draco has proved that on multiple occassions.

    the door to the common room bursts open, revealing a brief glimpse of the lunchtime crowd finally emerging from the great hall. you look up from your textbook, squinting at the sudden onslaught of light. draco stands in the doorway, nostrils flaring, eyes firm on you.

    your lips twitch, an attempt at a smile. “hello.”

   “what did he say to you?” draco demands. “if he said anything about your dad, y/n, i swear to-”

    “calm down,” you grumble, slumping into the arm chair. “you know how flint gets; he doesn’t know when to hold his tongue.”

   “yeah, well, he’s going to fucking learn, isn’t he?”

    you look up, because he must be joking. draco might be intimidating to some, but it all comes down to a name at the end of the day; he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he tried. he certainly couldn’t go up against marcus flint.

    but the rage in his eyes leaves little to the imagination about what he wants to do. he turns on his heel before you can even stand up, fleeing the common room in search of marcus flint.

   “draco!” you stumble up, dashing after him. “draco, stop. what the hell are you even going to do?”

   “have a little chat with him.” he picks up his pace, as if afraid you’re going to stop him. you have to start jogging, pushing past fellow confused students in your haste to grab draco before he does something stupid.

    but the world is plotting against you, it seems, as draco rounds the corner and comes face-to-face with the slytherin quidditch team captain as he makes his way to his next class.

    both boys freeze, and for a moment, you think draco’s respect for the older man might just break through. for a fleeting, hopeful moment, you think draco will come to his senses and turn away before any real damage can be done.

    and then he punches flint right in the face.

   you cry out, stumbling over your own two feet in your haste to get to draco before flint - stunned and confused - can come back around. even draco seems shocked at his own actions, staring at his fingers with wide eyes, face paling.

    “idiot!” you hiss, grabbing his arm and dragging him back, but marcus is already regaining his composure, looking at draco with nostrils flared.

   you raise a hand in marcus’s direction, trying in vain to drag draco behind you. “alright lads, lets calm down, yeah? we’ve got classes to get to!”

    “get out of the way, y/n,” marcus growls.

    “don’t talk to them like that,” draco snaps, lunging forward. you try in vain to keep the smaller boy from doing any further damage, but he’s determined, and you know how draco gets when he’s determined. he fights against your grip like a snarling dog, spitting curse words in flint’s direction, half of which you don’t even pick up on.

   you’re too busy staring at marcus, silently daring him to do anything.

   because, the thing is, marcus knows you just as he knows every person on his quidditch team. you’re the beater that keeps the team upright, the only one of the three beaters he can actually trust to win them a match. you’re the one he’s studied for years as you play the game by his side, and he knows you won’t take any shit.

    but either will he. that’s the beauty of being a slytherin. you know that as well as anyone.

   and that is why you can do nothing when marcus dives forward, malfoy having just called him some awful name, and grabs the younger boy by the front of his robes. he shoves you out of the way, your shoulder crashing into a passing first year. you hastily apologise, stumbling upright, trying to get between them as draco yells and makes a fuss, and marcus keeps so calm and collected, it’s almost scary, a scene you don’t know how to handle-

    marcus is pushed backwards.

    he falls on his back. you hear his wand snap in his back pocket, quills and parchment flying left, right and centre. draco stumbles, gasping for air, pressing a hand to his throat; his eyes snap to you, but you pay him no attention as you stare at george weasley, now standing guard over the younger malfoy boy.

    he glares down at flint, fingers curled into fists at his sides. the crowd stand shocked, some of them whispering “is that fred or george?” but you pay them no attention. your heart is racing. you’re so confused.

    marcus blinks. “what the fuck?”

   “why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” george snarls. 

    “i can handle myself, weasley!” draco barks, and that snaps you out of your reverie.

    you march forward and grab draco by the ear. he cries out, but you don’t pay attention to his pleas as you drag him through the hall, yelling out, “nothing to see here people!” over your shoulder. draco kicks and whines, but you’re furious - furious that he would put himself in such danger, furious that he couldn’t even finish the job he started, because george weasley - of all people! - stepped in to save his ass.

     you push draco into the nearest empty classroom you can find. “you idiot.”

    “he deserved it!” draco exclaims, rubbing the reddened tip of his ear. “jesus christ, y/n, let me help you! why do you let people like him get away with stuff like that?”

    “i don’t!” you bark. “i don’t let them get away with it, draco, because i handle it on my own! you don’t need to protect me!”

   draco scowls, folding his arms over his chest.

   you sigh, running a hand down your face. “you’re like a little brother to me, do you understand? if you get hurt one of these days, i’ll never forgive myself. it’s better if you just let me deal with things like this.”

    “why do you get to protect me all the time but i can’t protect you?”

   “because i can protect myself.”

    “or george weasley will do it.”

    you purse your lips, glancing over your shoulder as if george himself will be stood in the doorway; part of you kind of wishes he was. 

    “i don’t know why he did that,” you mumble. “he hates your guts.”

   draco scoffs. “yes, i’m aware of that. but i think it’s pretty obvious why he decided to step in.”

   you raise a brow, a silent question. 

    “that boy hasn’t stopped gawking at you since the first quidditch match,” draco explains. “don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. and also don’t pretend like he wasn’t the reason you got so distracted during the match against hufflepuff.”

    you blink, heat clawing to your face. of course it’s true - you never denied that to yourself - but hearing draco say it out loud, like it means something, makes your stomach curl. 

    draco chuckles, still rubbing his ear. “i must say, y/n, i’m surprised by your pick, but whatever makes you happy.”

    “george is...” you falter, the acidic adjective balancing on the tip of your tongue, just enough of a lie to leave you hesitant. “george is a. . . interesting character.”

    “all the weasleys are,” draco agrees. “but not all the weasleys have caught your eye, have they?”

   “shut up.” you fold your arms, biting your lower lip. “i don’t feel anything for george. nothing nice, anyway. he annoys me.”

    “he annoys you, does he?”

    “you know he does!”

    “i also know you’re getting very flustered right now.”

   you scowl, quickly turning away before draco can gather any more evidence of your true feelings through your appearance. “go to hell.”

    “tell me i’m wrong. tell me he wasn’t the person who distracted you during that match.”

    you open your mouth, ready to lie. you’re a slytherin. lying comes easily when it works in your favour, but you glance over your shoulder, and you spot draco’s raised brow and amused smile, and you remember that he is a slytherin himself, a slytherin who knows you better than anyone else in this damned school. he can read you like an open book, a skill he is clearly using to his advantage now.

   you grit your teeth, turning back around. “it was an accident. i just wasn’t expecting him to be there.”

    “the weasley twins never miss a game!” draco exclaims, a burst of laughter mingling with the words, like he can’t believe you’re even attempting to lie. “honestly, y/n, who do you think you’re trying to fool? the entire school saw how george reacted to you falling-”

   “how he reacted?”

    draco’s smile fades. “oh, of course.” he shakes his head. “of course, you wouldn't have seen him, probably wouldn’t have heard him, either.”

    you raise a brow, heat crawling up your face again. “what are you on about?”

    “y/n, when you fell off your broom that day, george bolted. he nearly gave colin creevey a bloody concussion, shoving his way through the stands. professor mcgonagall tried to stop him from getting on the pitch, but he wasn’t having any of it. even mcgonagall backed down when she saw his face.”

   oh.

   oh, oh, oh, that wasn’t what you were expecting to hear. not at all.

   the blood thrums through your veins, louder than it has ever been. you can’t respond, can’t even think straight, trying to remember that day and what happened during the moments before you fell head first onto the pitch.#

   but you remember nothing. you opened your eyes, and you were on the floor, and george was stood over you, calm as anything. not once did you think he may have actually went against the rules to get to you.

    “that doesn’t make any sense,” you mumble.

   draco raises a brow. “why doesn’t it?”

    “because george and i hate each other.” 

    and draco laughs. he laughs, head thrown back, loud and obnoxious. you stare at him, but you’re not even angry. you’re still in shock, overcome with a sudden need to find george and ask him about whatever draco has just tried telling you.

    because it can’t be true. george and you don’t get along. he’s the guy who hates draco, the guy who knows about your dad, the guy who does your head in more than anyone else in the world.

    he’s also the guy who carried you to the hospital wing when you were on the brink of unconsciousness.

   he’s also the guy who knows about your dad, yet hasn’t told a single soul.

    he’s also the guy who just saved draco’s ass, and maybe you’re thinking too much into it, but did he only do that because you made it so clear that draco is your friend?

    you swallow thickly, trailing your hands through your hair. “oh, draco.”

   “oh, indeed,” draco replies, still grinning. “here i was thinking you were smart.”

    “i have to talk to him.”

    “yes, well, go ahead.” draco places a hand on his forehead. “i’ll stay in here until flint calms down; i’ll be fine on my own.”

     usually, you would ask him if he’s sure. you might not even leave, instead choosing to sit with draco, sharing sweets, insulting each other’s life choices.

    but right now, you don’t stick around long enough for him to change his mind. you whirl on your heel, pure adrenaline thumping through your veins as you throw open the door and dart out into the hallway.

     george is in class. he has to be in class, because that’s where you’re supposed to be right now.

    you dash down the hallway, no longer caring about the teachers walking back and forth, all of whom are probably wondering what on earth you’re doing out of class right now. you pay them no attention, instead making a direct line for potions, where you know george is currently seated, probably bored out of his mind.

    you halt at the window of the potions classroom and peek over the top of the sill. there he is, seated at the back, chin resting on his palm as he stares at nothing in particular. at the front, snape paces back and forth, slapping a wooden ruler against the blackboard, a noise you are all too familiar with. 

    you grit your teeth, wave your hands back and forth, anything to get his attention. finally, however, it’s fred who sees you, and his eyes - identical to his brothers - immediately widen, a grin appearing on his face.

    you point to george, and fred gets the memo. he nods, gives you a thumbs up before tapping george on the shoulder and pointing in your direction. you make a come here gesture, to which george raises a brow, motioning to snape at the front of the classroom. impatiently, you tap your wrist, signalling to him that this is the one chance you’re going to get to talk to him, and you need to do it now.

    george rolls his eyes before throwing his hand in the air. 

    snape pauses his lecture. “yes, weasley?”

   “can i use the bathroom, sir?”

    “you can wait.”

    “no, sir, you don’t understand. i had one of hagrid’s fish suppers earlier, and-”

   snape slaps his ruler against the desk. “i don’t want to hear it! off you go, but be quick about it. any catching up you have to do can be done in my classroom during lunch.”

    “you’re the best, professor!” george stands and all-but runs to the door.

   as soon as he’s thrown it open, you grab the front of his robes and drag him down the hall, to a place where neither of you will be heard by the potions master.

    george stumbles after you, laughing louder than you’re comfortable with when the two of you are skipping class. you shove him into yet another empty classroom, closing the door and casting a quick spell to lock it.

    you spin, and as soon as you lay eyes on him, the speech you had planned dies in your throat.

    you just stare at him, because that honestly feels like all you can do. you’re struck by how gorgeous he is, those brown eyes you have never ignored, the messy mop of ginger hair, the chiselled cheeks and lanky body. all of it combined makes george weasley him, and it’s enchanted you quicker and more unexpectedly than you’ll ever be willing to admit.

    george raises a brow, folding his arms over his chest. “is this important, or am i risking a detention with snape for no reason?”     

   you blink, suddenly aware that you did not plan this out as well as you probably should have. what do you even want to say to him? what point do you want to get across?

   george tilts his head at your silence, leaning forward teasingly. he’s still got that smirk on his face, the one you refuse to acknowledge, because he’s only doing it to annoy you, and he looks so good whilst doing it. 

   you scowl in response. “you know flint is going to kill you next time he sees you, right?”

    surprised, george recoils. “that’s what you wanted to say to me?”

    “i’m giving you a warning. i know marcus flint really well, and he’s not going to let this slide. you should probably start thinking about leaving hogwarts next year, just to give you a better chance-”

    “y/n, for christ’s sake.”

    you deflate. your shoulders slump, the energy seeping from your body in one clean swoop. you groan, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes, as if doing so will push the stress and confusion from your brain.

    “i don’t know how to do this,” you grumble. 

    “don’t know how to do what?”

   “say thank you.” you drop your hands; george has stepped a little closer. you inhale sharply, ready to recoil, but those brown eyes of his keep you trapped.  

   he raises a brow. “you want to say thank you?”

    “i know you don’t like draco,” you mumble. “you didn’t have to stand up for him back there, but you did anyway. god only knows what would have happened to him if you hadn’t stepped in.”

    “he needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.” george shrugs. “but he’s still the year below us. flint should have handled things better.” 

     you nod, pursing your lips. it’s the gyryffindor mindset, a mindset you will never properly understand, but a mindset you grew up witnessing, because your mother always had the same one. whilst you were usually all for getting revenge, your mother always calmed you down by telling you that, sometimes, it was better to take the high road. sometimes, you needed to protect people weaker than yourself.

    “plus,” george is quick to add. “he pushed you. that was a step too far for me.”

    startled, you look up. “that was a step too far? you don’t even like me, george!”

    george’s smile slips. his brows furrow, pinching in the centre in a most adorable way. outside, students bustle back and forth, class ending; you’ll have to deal with snape, and so will george, but right now, neither of you really care. george just stares at you, and then he starts shaking his head, and then he’s laughing.

    you recoil. “what’s so funny?”

   “you really are daft,” he says. “absolutely daft in the brain.”

    “what are you talking about?”

    but he only continues to laugh, throwing his head back. he turns on his heel, hand inches from the door handle, ready to leave this conversation at that, but your eagerness to know more drives you to stop him. you grab his robes and pull him back, stumbling just enough to push him against the wall, your chest inches from his own.

    his laugh dies, breath catching in his throat as he stares down his nose at you. “not this again.”

    “what are you talking about, george?”

    he smiles. slowly, he lifts his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your heated cheeks. you’re startled by the touch, half ready to pull away from him, but you stay frozen, trapped in his gaze.

    “i don’t hate you, you know,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “in fact, i think i’ve actually grown quite fond of you these past few weeks.”

   it doesn’t make sense. none of it makes sense. in your head, you replay the relationship formed between you and george, the constant bickering, the harsh words, the dire need to be as far from each other as possible - a need that was never met, because somehow, you always found yourself drawn to him, even when you convinced yourself he was the last person you wanted to see.

    you swallow thickly, trailing your hands down his robes, flattening the creases you made in the material. he watches your fingers as they graze over the collared shirt he is wearing, lingering just by his stomach before you flinch away and step back, chewing your bottom lip.

    george grins again. he’s always grinning. you don’t want him to ever stop grinning. “you alright there?”

    you nod. “fine. why wouldn’t i be fine?”

    “i don’t know, but you look a little shell shocked.”

   you scowl.

    his grin widens. “there’s that look i’m so familiar with!”

   you roll your eyes. “go to hell, george weasley.”

    ----

     last quidditch match of the season.

   slytherin versus gryffindor.

   marcus is all but foaming at the mouth.

   you and george are making faces at each other from opposite ends of the pitch.

   draco nudges your arm as madame hooch goes through the rules. you glance at him, raising a brow in silent question.

    “stay focused, please,” he whispers, nodding at george who is busy giving goyle the middle finger. “i get you two are friends now, but this match is important to us. get your head in the game.”

    you scoff. “when have i ever not had my head in the game?” 

    draco raises a brow.

    you scowl. “that was one time, alright? i’ve got it this time. them gryffindors aren’t gonna know what’s hit them.”

    and so, the game begins. 

    it’s a dirty game. blood makes an appearance a few times. one of your hands get crushed by a bludger that goyle failed to block, so your knuckles are bloody throughout the entire match.

   and then there’s george.

    he circles you, singing ‘happy birthday’ at the top of his lungs. he smacks a bludger in your direction, but you dodge it and smash it back at him; it hits off the end of his broom, sending him swirling through the air. 

     he rises again, however, and joins your side. the two of you speed the length of the pitch, shoving and grabbing at each other’s brooms, laughing the entire time.

     “just give it up, l/n!” he jeers. “look at the state of your hand! there’s no way you can win this game now!”

    “piss off, weasley!” you yell back, before slamming your bat into an oncoming bludger, sending it straight for harry potter. 

    “oh, you cheeky git!” george exclaims, whizzing after the bludger to direct it elsewhere. you laugh, whizzing as high into the air as you can possibly go before madame hooch blows her whistle and scolds you. 

    the gryffindors start to struggle. you see it in the score board, how fast slytherin are catching up to them. harry is whizzing around like a madman, searching left, right and centre for the snitch that draco is also on the prowl for. you, however, keep your eyes on the bludger, every now and then diverting your attention to the ginger boy who keeps blocking your path.

    “you think this is a kids game, y/n?” he calls, snatching at the bristles on the back of your broom, yanking you back in a way that would usually deliver a penalty, but everyone’s eyes are on draco and harry, so nobody spots the discrepancy. 

    “oh, definitely not!” you yell back. “watch out, georgie; looks like goyle’s put himself into high gear!”

    you do a loop in the air, giving george no time to even process your words before the bludger goyle whacked in his direction crashes into his back, knocking him straight off the front of his broom.

   you would be lying to claim there was not a moment of worry, a moment of genuine contemplation to follow him to the ground, make sure he’s alright. however, that moment is short lived when george gives you the finger, clambers right back on his broom and continues the game with more brutality than you’ve ever seen him possess.

   you’re panting by the end of it, sweat dripping from your brow, seeping into the thin cloth of your quidditch robes. you’ve screamed yourself hoarse, throat aching and raw, but you manage to still scream victory when the final whistle goes off and lee jordan is forced to announce slytherin’s success over the loud speakers.

     you crash to the ground, immediately joining the group hug, draco in the centre.

    “that’s my boy!” you yell, ruffling his hair. “you absolute fucking legend, draco malfoy!”

    draco scowls, shoving your hand away. “don’t know why any of you are surprised.”

    you flick his chin before pulling him back in for a hug. 

    once the team celebrations are over, however, you turn your attention to george. you’ve been doing that a lot more often these days - looking for him in a crowd, wanting to share your joy with him, even when your joy swipes his own from right under his nose.

    you spot him in an instant, because - as always - he’s already looking at you. he’s scowling this time, but that doesn’t stop you from dropping your broom and skipping over to him.

    “we won! we won! we won!” you jeer, grabbing the badge on your robe and shoving it in his face. “see that, weasley? that’s the crest of a winner! that’s the crest of the best house in this fucking school!”

    george folds his arms over his chest, staring as you jump up and down in excitement. 

    he lets you continue until you tire yourself out. you laugh tiredly, pleased to see the tiniest twitch of george’s lips as he glares down at you. 

    finally he says, “finished?”

    “oh, don’t be a sore loser!” you throw your arms over his shoulders, because you’re tired and you don’t really care about anything right now. “tell you what; i’ll celebrate with you later on.”

    george recoils, arms still folded over his chest, making your embrace slightly uncomfortable, though you refuse to let go. “why would i want to celebrate with you?”

   “listen mate, take it or leave it; i have an entire team i could be celebrating with right now.”

     george stiffens. you lift your head, leaning your chin against his chest. he glares down at you, and before you can grasp what his intentions are, he leans down and pecks you on the lips.

    just like that. no explanation, no warning. the kiss lasts no longer than two seconds before he pulls away, breaks out of your embrace and says, “go celebrate with your slytherin friends.”

    he turns, starting up the field. for a second, you just stare after him, shellshocked, but then the scene replays in your head, and you’re suddenly overcome with the need to repay him.

    you dash after him, despite the ache in your legs and the exhaustion in your bones. you grab the back of his quidditch robes, spin him around, and it’s like he expects it - he drops his broom, stretches his arms out and catches you the moment you leap into his embrace and slam your lips to his.

   and it’s so strange, but so perfect, so relieving all at the same time. he holds you tighter, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck whilst you busy yourself with trailing your hands through his thick, messy, windswept hair. 

   behind you, you listen to draco groan out the words, “now?” but it does nothing to deter you from the moment. 

   you pull away first. “i’ve changed my mind.”

    panting, george says, “about what?”

    “you should come celebrate with me,” you reply. “i don’t want to celebrate with my slytherin friends any more.”

     george laughs. in the background, you hear draco telling the other slytherins to just head up to the common room - you won’t be there for another few hours. 

[witchyweasley]

Release the Tension - Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: The final year at Hogwarts is always a rough one, so you try to find ways to release tension in whatever way you can.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: smut, 18+ themes, oral (male receiving), public-ish?

The final year at Hogwarts is usually the most stressful. Professors expect you to be perfect, and every little mistake you make is amplified 10 times more than it should be because “You’re about to be out in the real world,” and “Hogwarts can’t protect you forever.” All of the little things really add up, and sometimes you just need a way to release the tension.

Thankfully, Fred Weasley has felt the same way. After one particularly rough game of quidditch and a victory party in the Gryffindor common room, I found myself waking up in his bed. The bed curtains were drawn, so hopefully none of his roommates saw me in there. They obviously knew someone was there, but they didn’t need to know who.

I quickly threw on my clothes and quickly headed over to my own dorm room, stepping over various passed out gryffindors who just didn’t have the energy to walk upstairs last night. I went down to the showers and got myself ready for the long day of classes ahead of me.

When I got to the great hall for breakfast, I found the Weasley twins sitting in our usual spot, both looking a little worse for wear.

“Oof, what got into you two?” I asked, sitting across from them.

“Firewhiskey. And a bit too much of it,” George answered as his fingers massaged his temples. “I’m going to go take a puking pastille, just to speed up the inevitable. Either of you want one?”

“No, I’m good thanks,” I answered and Fred shook his head no.

“Suit yourselves, I’ll see you in potions, if I make it that far,” George groaned as he headed back to his dorm.

“So, was I dreaming, or did we fuck last night?” Fred asked as he rubbed his forehead.

“As much as I would like to say ‘In your dreams’, we definitely fucked,” I said, loading my plate up with toast.

“I’m sorry, we probably shouldn’t have done that,” Fred said, grabbing a piece of toast that I buttered up for him.

“I don’t remember complaining about it?” I said nonchalantly.

“Oh? Have a bit of a crush do we?” He smirked.

“Not quite Weasley. It’s our last year of school, I’m not really looking for a serious relationship,” I said.

“So that was a one time thing? Damnit, I knew I shouldn’t have drank last night, then I could at least remember it,” Fred groaned.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be a one time thing…” I suggested.

“Oh? And what do you propose?” Fred asked.

“Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits?” I suggest.

“No strings attached?” Fred clarified.

“Correct, just fucking no feelings. We’ve both got a lot of tension with school, quidditch, and worrying about the future, and I think last night we released some of that,” I said.

“Alright, I’m down,” Fred shrugged. I nodded and continued eating my toast, mentally preparing myself for my classes today.

“These are some of the most practical skills you will ever learn in your time at Hogwarts. These are also some of the hardest skills you will learn. Pay close attention to me, this will be on the test next week and I will not be repeating myself,” McGonagall said as she showed us a difficult spell.

My brain was already so clouded from the test in Potions where greaseball wouldn’t let us use our notes to brew a potion he only taught us a couple days prior. I couldn’t focus at all. I found myself staring across the room at Fred, watching his hands as he took careful notes of McGonagall's demonstration. He caught me staring at him and raised his eyebrows at me before mouthing “pay attention” at me. I just winked at him and watched his face flush at my actions.

After class I quickly caught up with Fred and dragged him away from his friends.

“Want to release some tension?” I asked, overly stressed from the last test. He smirked and pulled me into one of the many hidden corridors of Hogwarts, one I had never even seen before.

“How do you always know where these are?” I asked.

“Oh is that what you want to do, you want to talk?” Fred asked, towering over me as he backed me up against the wall, “Or do you want to fuck?”

I grabbed his tie and pulled his lips against mine in a rough kiss. My hands slid up into his hair, as he gripped my waist and pulled me close. A soft growl escaping his lips as I tugged at his ginger hair. His fingers began unbuttoning my top, stopping halfway through. No point in fully undressing in case someone were to miraculously come by and ruin the moment.

His lips travelled down to my jawline, making their way to my neck where he lightly sucked at the sweet spot. After making a small mark, he worked his way to my collar bones, and then down to my breasts. He pulled down the lacey cup of my bra and took one nipple into his mouth while he pinched the other, causing small, breathy moans from me.

As he moved to give my other nipple some attention, his other hand slipped down under my skirt, rubbing circles over my panties.

“Fuck Freddie,” I moaned, causing him to remove his mouth from my nipple and press a hard kiss to my lips.

“Quiet love, we don’t want anyone to catch us. Can you be quiet for me?” He asked quietly. I nodded in response, but admittedly I didn’t trust myself very much. I don’t think he trusted me either, but he returned back to giving my nipple attention. I bit my lip, but lost control as he slipped a finger into my panties.

“Do that again and I’m gonna have to make you be quiet,” He said, smirking at me. He knew what he was doing.

Biting down on my lip only got me so quiet, but not quite enough as he slid a second finger into my pussy. He quickly removed his fingers and put them in his mouth, sucking them clean.

“Fine, looks like I’ll have to make you be quiet. Get on your knees for me,” Fred smirked. I sank down to my knees, watching as Fred quickly unbuckled his belt, and quickly released his erection from his pants.

He watched me intently as I took his length into my hand, pumping it a few times before licking it from base to tip. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as I took his length into my mouth, using my hand to pump what I couldn’t comfortably fit in my mouth. I continued bobbing my head, slowly taking more and more of him into my mouth. I then took his entire length in my mouth, causing a moan to escape from him.

I started to move back to make a snarky comment, but Fred pressed a hand to the back of my head.

“Don’t even think about it,” He said, knowing what I was going to say. He was now thrusting his hips, controlling the pace that I was originally in charge of. His head was thrown back and his breathing was ragged.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this,” he breathed out. His thrusts slowed down and soon he released into my mouth. I looked up at him while I swallowed the salty white liquid.

“What is it Mrs. Norris? Are children in the forbidden corridor?” I heard Filch say. Sure enough, Mrs. Norris rounded the corner and started meowing loudly. Fred quickly shoved his dick back into his pants, helped me up, and grabbed my hand as we started running down the corridor. Barely avoiding Filch, and just barely out running Mrs. Norris.

Once we were safe from them, Fred pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard.

“We can continue this after quidditch practice.”

[helnjk]

I Never Planned On You - C.W.

Charlie Weasley x reader

This is part of my showtunes fic list based on the song I Never Planned On You from the musical Newsies 💗 also i am SUCH a simp for Charlie it’s crazy 

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: when the twins bring their best friend to the burrow for christmas, charlie can’t keep his eyes off of her. 

Warnings: very brief mentions of death (minor character) & the war, injuries from dragons (?), mentions of food & alcohol consumption

- 

I’ve got no use for moonlight, or sappy poetry

Girls are nice, once or twice,

Til I find someone new

The pub was unusually packed, Charlie noticed.

As he scanned around the crowded room, his friends idly chatted around him. This was their usual routine, every Friday they would clock out of work and make their way here for a round of drinks and some fish and chips. 

He hadn’t noticed until she was directly in front of him, but one of the girls he saw around the reserve had made their way over. 

“Hello Charlie,” She drawled, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder, “It’s so nice to run into you here.” 

Despite the freezing temperature and the fact that everyone else was dressed comfortably, having come straight from work, the girl was wearing barely anything. Not that it mattered what any bird wore, as long as they felt confident in it and in themselves. But, as she bent down to be eye to eye with him, her breasts practically spilled over from her too tight top. 

It was obvious what she was trying to do. 

His friends watched with amused glints in their eyes, already knowing how this interaction would go. Her appearance was not out of the ordinary. Despite each incident involving a different bird, they had seen this kind of thing happen quite often when they went out with Charlie. 

“Erm, hello,” He muttered, trying not to make eye contact, “Louise right?” 

Her attempt at a sultry conversation was shattered as she replied, “It’s Leanne.” 

“Right.” 

Sensing that he was not at all interested in whatever was going on, Leanne huffed and turned on her heel. She angrily strode across the room, making as much noise and ruckus as possible, just to get a reaction out of the redhead, but her attempts were futile. 

Mark, one of Charlie’s friends, let out a low whistle as the girl left hearing distance, “That one was rather presumptuous, don’t you think mate?” 

Charlie let out a soft chuckle, “I don’t understand why they all think they can pull the same move and expect me to react any differently.”

“They’re all hoping to be the lucky one that the Charlie Weasley falls for, or some other crap like that,” He winked, taking a swig of his beer. 

“Reckon that won’t happen for a long time yet, mate.” The redhead replied. 

“You never know, Charlie boy!” 

He merely shook his head and took a sip of his drink. Dating wasn’t really on his mind anyway. 

Love at first sight’s for suckers

At least it used to be

The crack of apparition sounded through the pale morning light. 

Charlie landed steadily on his feet as he appeared on the top of a hill, just on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Nothing had really changed since the last time he visited, the same silhouettes of different houses littered the landscape, the same sleepy neighbors about to begin their day. The familiarity of it all blazed in his heart like a warm fire at the end of a cold day, comforting and all consuming. 

The Burrow stood proud and tall in the horizon, and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips. He was home. It was the Christmas holidays, the war had ended, and he was home.  

He took his time, trudging up through the blanket of snow surrounding the house. Smoke rose from the chimney signalling that his mum was already puttering about in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the army of people no doubt housed under her roof. 

“Mum!” He yelled as soon as he crossed the threshold, “Mum, I’m home!” 

As he banished the remaining snow on his boots with a wave of his wand, Molly Weasley came bustling out the kitchen door. Apron adorning her waist and a smidge of flour flecked on her fiery hair, she grinned and opened her arms. 

“Charlie,” She said as he bent down to wrap his arms around her in an embrace, “Oh love, it’s so good to see you!” 

“You too, mum.” He smiled at her, “Anyone else here yet?” 

From eldest to youngest, she listed off the plans of each of her children and where they were to spend the holidays. Everyone would be ‘round on Christmas and Boxing day, but the only ones spending the night that day, Christmas Eve, were the twins, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The younger ones of the bunch had arrived the day prior, but were still asleep from what she knew. 

Charlie nodded his head before he was sent away to unpack his things in his old room. His mum had kept it just as he left it, even though it had been many years since he moved to Romania. She said something about not being bothered to think of anything to turn it in to, but he knew that she kept it for nostalgia’s sake. 

As he made his way back down the stairs, the commotion at the front of the house caught his attention. Fred and George had arrived, noisily announcing their appearance, taking off coats and scarves and calling out to their mum. However, Charlie could also just barely see the outline of a third person behind them. 

She was nearly a head shorter than the twins, but when she came into view, he felt the air get knocked out of him. The light streaming in from the open door behind her seemed to glow in a halo around her, her eyes lighting up at whatever the twins had said and a laugh falling from her lips. 

She was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. 

The twins took notice of Charlie’s presence, as he was paused halfway down the stairs, and called out to him. 

“Oi, Charlie!” George called, making his way to his older brother, “Nice to see you, mate! How’ve you been?” 

“Good-erm, good yeah.” He managed to stutter out, head still spinning at the sight of the beautiful girl, “What have you lot been up to, then? Who’ve you brought over?” 

“This is Y/N,” Fred said, motioning to his best friend. 

At the introduction, she smiled brightly and held out her hand for Charlie to shake, “I work with the twins at the shop, nice to meet you.” 

Charlie spotted Fred and George roll their eyes playfully. 

“Oh come off it,” Fred nudged her before turning to his older brother, “We’ve been mates with this one since Hogwarts. She was usually the one getting us in trouble, though.” 

“Oi!” She laughed, “Don’t make me sound like the bad influence, I was a perfectly good student.”

As Charlie watched their interaction, he had flashes of a little girl always in step with the twins and causing mischief in the halls of Hogwarts during his last few years there. Back then, she had only been a child, bright eyed and inquisitive, but now she had grown into a woman, confident and sure. 

“Nice to meet you,” He murmured as their eyes locked, “The more the merrier around here.” 

He might have been imagining things, but he swore he could see the faint beginnings of a blush creeping onto Y/N’s cheeks. 

The ruckus made from the twins & Y/N’s entrance was enough to wake the rest of the inhabitants of the household. It seemed like the Christmas celebrations had begun early as they all clambered into the slightly too small kitchen table and had a meal together. 

For the rest of the day, Molly had them all helping out in preparation for the real celebratory meal the next day. Charlie hadn’t had the time to strike up a conversation with Y/N and instead settled with (not so) subtle glances her way. 

Once or twice, one of the twins would catch onto his game and send him knowing looks. He paid them no mind, though, being used to their antics. 

“So Charlie,” Fred began, as the family was settling in around the living room after dinner, “Y/N, huh?” 

The pair of them leant against the wall in the corner of the room, away from any prying eyes or ears.

“Shove off, mate.” He replied with a slight shake of his head and his lips barely twitching into a smile. 

The younger brother rolled his eyes playfully, “It’s alright. Georgie and I have been fending off boys for years with our Y/N. She’s quite fit, but no guy’s been good enough for her in our eyes, or in hers I reckon.” 

“Don’t you go playing the protective best friend on me now, I haven’t even done anything!” Charlie playfully shoved his shoulder against his brother’s. 

“Nah, I’d never. Just wanted to tell you that she’s never been romantically involved with anyone.” 

“Well, that makes the two of us then.” 

-

The Burrow was uncharacteristically silent as Charlie crept down the staircase. It was definitely past midnight, but he hadn’t been able to fall asleep, tossing and turning from the moment his head met the pillow. 

He paused for a moment as he reached the bottom, not expecting to see light filtering through the open kitchen door at this time of night. His heart only picked up its pace as he noticed that it was Y/N who was sat by the counter, nursing a cup of tea in her hands and staring out the window. 

“Care for any company?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe. 

He noticed her body jump slightly at the noise, but when she turned to face him, the smile she sent in his direction could light up any room, “I’ve just heard from a certain redhead that around here, the more the merrier.”

“Fred tell you that?” 

Her laugh was a sound he knew he would never tire of hearing, “And I see cheekiness runs in the family as well.” 

“Nah,” Charlie shrugged, taking the seat across from her, “It’s our good looks that you should be watching out for.” 

He flicked his wand and the kettle began to boil once more as a mug floated its way towards the counter. The pair of them had settled into a peaceful silence, taking in the comforting atmosphere of the winter night. 

It was Charlie who finally broke the silence, “So, how’s it been working with the twins at the shop? They drive you mad yet?” 

She gave him a knowing smile, “When you’ve spent nearly seven years in close quarters with them, you tend to get used to it. Plus it’s good to have steady company, especially when it comes in the form of Fred and George.” 

“What about your family? How’re they spending the holidays then?” 

The moment the question escaped Charlie’s lips, he knew he had made a mistake. The light in Y/N’s eyes seemed to dim and her grip on the mug in front of her seemed to tighten.

“Oh I’m sorry, you don’t have to–” He began.

“No it’s alright,” She assured him, “My parents died in the war. I was going to spend the holidays alone, but the twins refused to even entertain the thought.” 

“Well, I’m glad they brought you along this year.” He sent her a timid smile. 

“Me too.” 

But I never planned on someone like you

Christmas comes and goes in a flurry of cable knit sweaters and too much food. Y/N and Charlie found themselves tucked away in a corner or out in the snowy landscape taking a walk together more often than not. A quiet conversation at the dead of night did wonders for their budding friendship. 

It was as if they were magnets now, drawn to each other in a way that couldn’t be explained. 

Sooner than he’d like, Charlie found himself in one of the Ministry offices, hand tightly gripped onto a portkey. 

As he settled back into his daily routine at the dragon reserve, his mind often wandered to Y/N. The way her eyes lit up when she saw the snow fall, how her smile bloomed at any of the twins’ (albeit not so funny) jokes, the little crinkle in her nose when she had a particular thought in mind. 

“Look out, mate!” 

He only had a second to react as he saw one of the younger Welsh Greens open its mouth and shoot flames in his direction. Charlie had been so distracted by his thoughts that despite his best effort and his exceptional flying skills, he still felt flames lick his skin and singe his clothes. 

Full of adrenaline, he managed to land his broom properly before rolling onto the grass and performing the protocol for accidents such as these. Mark reached him quickly, as the rest of the team he was with went to settle the dragon down. A quick aguamenti charm at the still burning areas of Charlie’s clothes got rid of the remaining flames, but he still suffered a few burns and scrapes. 

“You alright, mate?” Mark asked, helping the redhead get to his feet, “I think we’ve still got to get you to the infirmary for those burns.” 

“Nothing I haven’t gone through before.” He smiled, wincing slightly as his clothes rubbed against the new burns on his skin. 

-

As it was protocol for the reserve to inform next of kin of serious injuries, Molly Weasley received an owl detailing the accident and the procedures done to make sure that Charlie was well taken care of. 

When she received it, she just so happened to have Y/N over for some tea. As the matriarch of the Weasley family couldn’t help but be drawn to children who had lost their parents in unfortunate circumstances, she made it a point to have her over every once in a while. 

“Charlie’s hurt?” Y/N asked, concern leaking into her voice. She had peered over Molly’s shoulder to see what could be so urgently delivered from Romania. 

Molly tried to hide her smile as she noticed how much Y/N cared for her son. She wasn’t the only one who took note of how quickly they were drawn to each other over the holidays, and she was thrilled at the thought of Charlie finding someone to love. 

Of course, she knew it wasn’t love just yet.

“Got a few burns from one of their younger dragons, it says,” Molly clarified, “He’s confined in their infirmary until further notice. Usually we’re allowed to visit them when we get a notice like this, but I don’t think I’d have the time to go this week… And I don’t want to bother Arthur, he’s been so busy these days with the Ministry as well.” 

Having been around Molly for much of her Hogwarts years, Y/N knew exactly what she was doing. But she couldn’t deny the flutters in her stomach when she realized that the person she looked up to as basically her second mother was trying to push her into the arms of her second eldest son.

“Molly,” She began, already set to turn down the offer. 

Mrs. Weasley was quick to the chase, however, “Oh I hope he wouldn’t feel too bad, being injured and not having anyone come to visit him.”

A small chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips as she shook her head, “I’m sure he’s got friends over at the reserve.”

“Oh Y/N, but I know he’d love to have you over!” She protested, “And I know the twins would let you go and visit him as well. I would be truly grateful if someone from the family could visit him and come home with news.” 

Y/N’s resolve faltered as she noticed that Molly had said she was family. The Weasleys had been practically her second family the moment the twins took her under their wing, but hearing the family matriarch say it so casually moved something in her heart. 

“Oh alright.” Y/N smiled, “I’ve never been to Romania, might as well go and see what all the fuss is about.” 

-

The infirmary wasn’t new to Charlie. 

Working with dragons was a little more high risk than his mother would’ve liked, but his love for magical creatures overrode whatever concerns she might have had. It helped that everyone working in the place was a top notch healer and got him patched up in no time. 

Still, he found himself on bedrest for at least the next few days as he waited for the various balms and soothing creams applied to his skin to work. 

Just as he began to feel a little stifled and antsy, a knock on the door rang and the familiar head of one of his healers popped in, “Looks like you’ve got a visitor, mate.”

Charlie furrowed his brows, “But, my mum said she couldn’t come ‘round and visit–” 

“Sorry to disappoint, love.” 

The sound of her voice was enough to fill his heart with immeasurable joy. In that moment, he forgot all about the uncomfortable sting of his burns and the itch he had to get out of the ward and onto the field again.

“Y/N?” He asked, as she stepped into the room, looking as radiant as when he first met her, “What’re you doing here?” 

“Molly said that you were injured,” She shrugged, nonchalant, “Just thought I’d keep you company while you recovered.” 

“You came all the way to Romania just so that I wouldn’t be bored out of my mind?” 

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds like I went through loads of trouble! I just got the next portkey out of Britain.” 

Despite all appearances, the two of them bantered with each other with rapidly beating hearts. Charlie couldn’t believe that his own mum had sent the bird he was pining after to visit him in the infirmary. Y/N couldn’t believe that she had actually gone through with the plan and was going to be around the boy who caught her eye. 

As soon as she took a seat next to his bed, though, their conversation flowed from where it left off. No awkwardness or uncomfortable pauses, just the two of them chatting as if they were still back in the Burrow, nursing warm mugs of tea and watching snow fall outside the window. 

Y/N had to avert her eyes when the healer came back to redress his bandages, not because she was embarrassed to see him practically naked in front of her, but because seeing the burns nearly made her gasp out loud. She knew that he was a dragon tamer, but she hadn’t known the severity of what accidents on the job looked like. 

Of course, he noticed and once the healer had left them again he said, “I’m alright, love. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all patched up in no time!” 

“Yeah,” She nodded, “I just wasn’t expecting that.” 

Without thinking, she reached out and took his hand in hers. The both of them looked at their intertwined hands atop the stark white bed sheets. His skin was calloused and rough, she noted, but tender and gentle too. It was evident that he enjoyed what he did and he did it with a lot of care. 

“Tell you what,” He stage-whispered, finally meeting her eyes, “I know what’ll help me feel better.” 

“Oh yeah? What?” She raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to him and playing along.

“For you to go on a date with me once I get out of here.” 

“You are something else, Weasley.” Her eyes glimmered as she shook her head, and Charlie felt his heart hammering in his chest, “If you weren’t injured, I would’ve shoved you off this bed.” 

“You didn’t give me an answer, Y/L/N.” He replied, hoping that he didn’t come off as too eager, but still squeezing her hand to show that he was serious.

“Of course I will, you silly man!” She rolled her eyes, but pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

She relished in the way that simple gesture brought a rosy pink tinge to his skin. 

[avtrbee]

Unexpected Secret

inspired by the tumblr post above!

this fic defies almost everyhting that is canon but its really cute and fluffy in my opinion so idc idc idc

Petra was furious.

I’m gonna kill her, Petra thought, mopping away the last of the dirt from the stables. I don’t care how but I’m going to make it look like an accident.

Petra was furious.

Putting her anger on the mop she had gripped in her fist she aggressively wiped the stable floors clean, but her thoughts were somewhere else. Y/N L/N was the reason why she was stuck cleaning the stables during a Friday night when she could’ve spent the day in the market with Oluo buying cute clothes or enjoying a new café or getting drunk or just about anything. 

Petra loved her friend but no matter which way Petra tried to twist the situation, Y/N was the sole reason to blame. Y/N was the one who suggested getting drunk in her room that night, Y/N was the one who suggested the game, Y/N was the one who proposed the punishment, and Y/N was the one who called her a pussy for backing out, so of course Petra had to do it. Petra had to run through the hallway, from the stairway and back to the room naked. 

It didn’t help that Y/N’s room was the farthest room from the stairwell. Petra didn’t have a problem getting naked around Y/N and their friends- they’ve seen each other’s bodies enough with the communal showers and the occasional first aid outside the walls. Petra isn’t ashamed of her own body either, she may look petite but she was hardened muscle from all the training she endured to become the one of the best. Though Y/N had her own private room as one of the Survey Corps’ Section Commander, her floor was also near the other superior’s private spaces. 

Once Petra made it out, she dashed to the stairs as fast as she could before turning back and running like there was a titan behind her to the privacy and safety of Y/N’s room. Until Hange, Levi and Mike came out of Erwin’s room from their own private party only to stare at Petra like she was a dog with three heads. 

Petra could’ve died right there. In fact, she would have preferred it if she did. Hange laughed (“Oh, it’s one of those nights, eh?), Levi looked away with disgust evident in his face and walked to another laughing Y/N, who witnessed the entire incident, instead. Mike just stood there with his brain probably short circuiting and nose occasionally twitching. To make matters worse, Erwin came outside to see what Hange was laughing about.

I’m gonna kill her, Petra thought, mopping away the last of the dirt from the stables. I don’t care how but I’m going to make it look like an accident.

Petra looked up from her hard work and wiped her forehead. She smelled like horse shit and probably looked like one too. A few yards away from her clean stable stood Y/N and Eren together under the sun with Mikasa not so far running towards them.

Petra watched as Mikasa hastily put herself between Y/N and Eren with a glare on her face. Was it really a glare or was it just Mikasa’s usual stoic face? Petra didn’t care- a plan was slowly starting to form in her head. 

-

Petra didn’t bother rushing to the cafeteria to get first in line like she usually would. Instead she ate some heavy snacks before and took her time. Thinking back, Y/N was the only one out of her superiors to sit on another table other than the space designated for them. She usually sat with Eren, with Levi occasionally joining them. 

Once she strolled inside, the place was packed with soldiers along with hundreds of conversations going on at the same time. Perfect. Just as she planned. Just as she thought, Y/N and Eren were chatting away alone on one table with Mikasa several tables away shooting them looks every now and then.

Petra smiled. Victory tastes so sweet. She slowed down her steps and savored her way to victory as she walked over to Mikasa. “Oi, Mikasa.” she said obnoxiously loud, gathering the attention of several people.

Mikasa turned her head from Eren and Y/N’s table, and stared at her with her cold gray eyes. “Yes, Petra?”

Petra giggled, unable to keep her mood down. “Y’know, Y/N told me a secret.” She said, voice getting louder with every word.

Behind her, Petra heard Y/N speak. “Done from the stables, darling?”

Faint snickers from around the hall erupted. No doubt the story has already gone around. Petra felt a nerve in her head pop. That almost got her. Almost. 

Ignoring the rest of the people, Mikasa kept her eyes on her. “What did she say?”

She crouched down and put a hand on her cheek like she was about to whisper. “She told me that she loves Eren, very, very much.”

Silence. 

Utter silence. 

From the corner of her eye she sees that Sasha had a spoon halfway through her mouth filled with seconds of today’s dinner, while Jean and Connie’s eyes were darting back and forth to her and Y/N, who had gone up from her seat and was walking towards her.

Petra stood back and let herself smile a truly evil smile. That’s what you get, Y/N. You bitch. To be honest, Y/N was probably going to beat her up. Petra didn’t care. She could try if Mikasa won’t get to her first.

Mikasa blinked. “Well, I sure hope so. Eren and I love her just as much.”

Wait- “What?” 

That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting.

“Oi, oi, Mikasa. You’re going to make your mother cry. I’ve never heard you speak like that before.” Y/N clasped a hand on Petra’s shoulder. Y/N had this smirk as if asking oh is this what you planned?

Huh, wait- “Mother? You mean-”

At the same time, Mikasa looked at Y/N. “Okasan, I have told you I loved you many times.”

“What do you mean okasan- are you-?” Petra turned her head to Y/N. 

Y/N leaned shifted her weight on one leg and crossed her arms. She was smiling, probably enjoying Petra’s confusion. “Yes. I am.”

“But-” Petra stuttered. “Eren too?”

“Yes.” Y/N laughed. Petra should’ve been furious, but at this point she was too focused on solving this familial situation she accidentally uncovered. Plus, everyone was listening in. They were curious too.

Petra shoved her hands in her hair. “They’re siblings?”

“Well, I thought we’ve established that before.” Y/N replied. 

“But I thought- Mikasa was charging at you because you were with Eren just a while ago!” 

Y/N deflated. “Oh, that. I was scolding the brat. He was reckless during the last expedition again. You’d remember, you were the one who saved him.” Fuck. Yes, Petra remembered very well. She almost lost her right hand because of that boy. “Mikasa just came over to protect her brother. I might’ve gone overboard too…”

“Then why isn’t Mikasa sitting with you?”

“Oh, I’ve been encouraging her to interact with people other than family. She barely has friends, y’know.”

“Don’t they have different last names?” Petra asked. She was losing her sanity. 

“What, Jeager? L/N was my dad’s. Jeager my mother’s name, I had him when I was young. And, well, technically, Mikasa isn’t mine by blood.” Y/N sat down beside the girl and slung her arm around Mikasa. “She came with my marriage. She’s still my daughter though.” Petra saw Mikasa hide a smile under her scarf.

“Married?” Petra asked. “You’re married?”

“Yup,” Y/N replied, popping her words. “When are you and Oluo gonna tie the knot, by the way-”

Petra couldn't even be bothered to blush at the question. She saw Oluo choke on his food from their usual table though. “Is he in the military?” 

“Yes. We met years before he was in the military though.”

“Is he in the Survey Corps?”

Y/N grinned. “Yes.”

“Is he a superior officer?”

Y/N’s smile grew wider. “Yes.”

Petra felt dread creep down her spine. “Is it Commander Smith?” If Petra really did just try to call out the commander’s wife in front of everyone, she’s dead meat. She’s probably gonna clean the stables on Fridays forever. 

To her relief Y/N said, “Pssh, Mikasa isn’t blonde y’know.”

Petra was losing her patience. “Then who the fuck is it-”

“They literally have the same last name Petra.”

Silence.

Only this time, Petra wasn’t smiling. Her brain was probably overheated from all the information Y/N gave her.

“Oi, Petra” said Levi who was coming inside the cafeteria. “What the hell is going on?”

“Captain!” She squeaked, not expecting his voice. Perfect timing too. 

“Don’t tease her anymore, Levi. It’s my fault, I was just telling her about our familial situation.” Y/N said. 

“Tch,” Levi lightly slapped Y/N at the back of her head. “What happened to keeping it a secret?” 

“Oh, well, they were bound to know anyway. Your son over there can’t keep his mouth shut, I’m surprised he lasted this long.” Y/N nodded to Eren back to her table while the latter hid his face on the table, occasionally banging his fist on the wood. “Though I didn’t expect them to find out this way though...and the entire Survey Corps for that matter.”

“You’ve caused us a nuisance.” Levi deadpanned at Y/N- at his wife? Petra was still trying to comprehend everything.

“Let’s go home.” Levi announced, heading out of the cafeteria. “I can’t stand to be stared at any longer. It’s making me feel like a pig with fucking wings.”

At the words of their Captain- Father?- Mikasa and Eren stood up and picked up their empty food trays. 

Oh, that's right. Petra knew that Y/N and Levi had a separate house somewhere near their HQ; she just didn’t even consider the possibility that they were living together. Fuck, she has seen them leaving too, but she just assumed that they were walking each other because they lived in the same neighborhood or something. 

Petra even spotted Mikasa and Y/N together in the market shopping for vegetables, but she thought it was only a kind gesture. Y/N can be like that sometimes. She even spotted Eren and Levi inside a cleaning shop when she was buying a new mop once. And Mikasa and Levi’s surnames? Petra didn’t even suspect anything because it was common knowledge in the Corps that two of their strongest soldiers had the same last name- had none of them suspected anything?

Looking around, Petra spotted similar confused faces like her own. Ah, so no one did. 

She felt her legs give up on her and plopped on the seat Mikasa previously sat on. She watched as Levi, Y/N, and their children walked out the cafeteria with a blank stare. What the fuck just happened? 

btww,,,the vibe of reader and petra here are like really close friends that tease each other a lot. i can understand why people think that petra seems like the “villain” here but i swear its just that kind of friendship 😭 im sorry if it didnt deliver properly but ill try better next time !!

[eelistolvanen]

Bruises that you left behind - Travis Konecny Finale

A/N: HERE IT IS!! Finally got around to finish off the last parts. This chapter is a bit longer but hopefully you like it. Thanks to everyone who read this series, I honestly never thought I would be able to publish a nearly 20k long fic. So thank you for reading, liking, reblogging or sommenting on it. <3

Words: 5k

Warnings: Angst, no proofread (as usual), don’t know what else

Links to the previous parts:

Part 1       Part 2         Part 3       Part 4     

_____________________________________________________

“Have you looked at the teams that could draft you?” Your voice was quiet, soft. You weren’t entirely sure if this was crossing the line or not, since you knew that he didn’t want to think about the draft to much. But you couldn’t stop yourself.

“No, Y/N. It’s not in my hands anyway.“

“Well I did. And I think-“ “ Don’t Y/N. I could literally go to any team.”

“But some are more likely and some seem nicer than others…” You could hear him let out a deep sigh, letting you know that he gave in. “ Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean Ottawa would be perfect. You already play here and I’ve almost gotten used to this city. Calgary, Edmonton, Winnipeg are around there as well. There not as close as Ottawa but still Canada. Maybe there’s some other smaller cities…”

“Y/N, there are no real small cities. And you can barely tolerate Ottawa and it’s one of the smaller ones… Detroit’s close and-“

“But it’s so industrial and dark and… I don’t know, Travis. I just… What if it’s somewhere far away?”

“You’ll come with me… I’m not leaving you behind and I know you don’t like cities and would rather live here on the farm but I can’t change it.”

You let out a deep breath. “Travis, I just.. I want to come with you, I do. But I’m not made for a big city. I love my friends, my family, everything we’ve got here. And dragging me into some big city far away, feels a lot like locking me up in a cage. And you know how much I value freedom.”

“But you’ll make new friends, and you’ll warm up to living in a city, just like you did with Ottawa. WE can do this, we’re going to be just fine, okay?”

When you looked into his eyes you could see how sure he was of this, so you slowly exhaled.

“Okay. But promise me that you’re not gonna do this to me. If it’s someplace too big or to constricting for me, you won’t keep me locked in a cage. Promise me you won’t clip my wings.”

He gave you a soft smile and slowly caressed your face before his expression turned serious.

“I promise I won’t do this to you.”

 You were struggling to breath, trying to gasp for air.

“No, no no no. This is not…” You didn’t really know where you were going with this. Your heart was aching more than it had in a while. The things was he was right. You could almost hear 17 year old Travis saying it. He had promised you. He had promised you to not constrict you, promised you to not take you into some big dark city. How you hated cities. Or at least used to hate them.

He meant to do the right thing, at the wrong time. And how wrong he had been…

“I didn’t want you to have this life, you deserved someone better. Someone who is there for you all the time. Someone who doesn’t spent most of his time on the road while you are left behind in some apartment, some city that you hate. Before I was drafted I promised you I would never do this to you. Lock you in a cage, clip your wings as you said. You hated the city, you hated the thought of being away from your family and friends. You loved being outside, being in nature. Port Stanley, the lake, the farm. This life here is everything you hate. And I would not put you through this, no matter how much I loved you.”

This felt like a dagger straight through your heart. You really couldn’t imagine yourself living that life back then.

“I moved here for you, Travis. Because I loved you. And…” He took the words straight out of your mouth.

“That’s what I mean, Y/N. I didn’t want you to give up your dream life just for me. Can’t you see that?

“Hah…” your laugh sounded bitter, almost cruel. “How couldn’t you see how happy I was? I wanted that life Travis! You didn’t do this to me. I choose to come to Philly Travis! I made the final decisions. Because I loved you. Because it was worth it to me. But do you know what you really did? You left me! On our wedding day. And I tried to come after you but you already left. And I waited and waited and waited in our house. The house we were supposed to grown old together. Spend our time in the off season. Raise our kids.”

You paused trying to get some air in, now you felt like you were being constricted. Travis’ hand moved towards you, he tried to reach out to you but you pulled back. Took a step back, trying to get some more space between the two of you. You took a deep breath.

“But then Nolan told me where you were and that you wouldn’t come back. You never came back! So when Nolan left I burned the letter and started packing everything up. By midnight of that day I was gone.”  

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t! Sorry just doesn’t cut it.”

There were many moments were you felt broken, shattered in the last few years. But were have you felt this low. And little. And humiliated. You felt like the invisible hand around your neck had tightened. You needed to get out of here.

“I..  can’t do this, Trav. I need… time.” You barely got those words over your lips. You could see that Travis wanted to say something, reach out to you in any way. But he didn’t. He knew better than that. So he watched you get in your car and drive off into the distance. Probably trying to put as much space as possible in between the two of you.  

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

You threw yourself into work after that. Week after week. Occasionally meeting up with the girls or some of the guys on the team. You knew better this time than to push Nolan out of your life. You started to help Maddie with the wedding planning, even if you felt a little tug in your heart everytime you did. You felt like you were starting to get your life back a bit. Piece by piece.

It was a Sunday afternoon in late March when you felt a sudden urge to clean your apartment. You went through the kitchen, the living room and were just about starting in your room when your eyes fell onto a drawer in your room. And suddenly you felt like you knew exactly what you had to do. You felt pretty erratic and your mind was racing.

Within 20 minutes you were sitting your car in front of a building halfway through town. And for the next 10 minutes you contemplated whether this was actually the right thing to do. Was this really what you wanted? Should you really go through with it? But you were already here, so you exited the car.

Only when you walked through the lobby you realised that you weren’t sue how to get to his apartment. He wasn’t living in the same building anymore, then you used to live in. The receptionist probably wouldn’t just let you in and you didn’t really felt like explaining your situation to the receptionist.

So instead you exited the building and made your way back to the car. You needed to talk to him, now. Before you run again.

You didn’t have his number either so you texted Nolan to text Travis to come outside. You felt pretty weird, almost like some stalker waiting in front of a building until the person left the building or so. Thankfully, it didn’t take Nolan very long to respond and telling you that he texted Travis. He also mentioned that Travis hadn’t read the text yet.

You were still staring at you phone waiting for Nolan to update you when he exited the building and walked towards you. His steps were cautious and he seemed pretty tired. When he finally was a few steps away you felt your mind catch up.

“Uhh, I was just in the neighbourhood…” What a dumb thing to say, Y/N; you thought. He knew this was a lie. You were never in this area of town. But Travis seemed more confused than anything.

“Ah, yeah okay… What’s going on?” He seemed more nervous than usual. His confidence seemed non existent at this moment. He looked like a deer in the headlights. Well, you came to him so you might as well say what you came here for.

“I thought a lot about us after that conversation, Travis.” He looked guilty at the mention of your last conversation.

“You know, the reason why I burned that letter that day was because I thought that no matter what the reason was, it wouldn’t matter. Because in the end you left me. Yes, I wanted to know the reason why you did it. But it doesn’t change anything. No reason truly justifies what you did to me. Or makes up for all the pain. It just gives me clearance. You know even with that good intention, I just don’t understand why you didn’t ever talk to me about it. We were 17 when we made that promise and I don’t think we ever brought it up again.”

Travis was shaking his head desperately, you were pretty sure he knew where this was going.

“Please don’t, Y/N. Please…” But he knew he was losing this game.

“We’re not the Y/N and Travis that we once were. Not anymore. And we never will be, Travis. Believe me I want nothing more than to go back to that time. To that couple that we used to be. But this is never going to happen Travis and we both have to accept that.”

“You don’t know that, I mean you can’t just give up. I can’t do this without you.”

“You gave up on us a long time ago. And yes, you can. You’ve done it before. Just this time, I’m going to be the one who walks away.”

“Y/N…”

You stepped towards and took his hands in yours as you leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheeks. As you pulled away you placed something into his palms.

“Goodbye, Travis”

You stepped back towards your car as he looked down at his hands.

The little velvet box with your engagement ring.

And he knew that this was it.

Game over.

 ------------------------------------

The rest of the school year passed quickly and soon summer came around. You had been so busy teaching and helping Maddie with the wedding, time had flown by quickly. You hadn’t seen Travis again and you felt yourself heal again. You knew that there would always be a piece of you that would never be over him. A little piece of your heart would belong to him. But slowly you came to terms with the fact the the rest of your heart wouldn’t.

It was mid July now and Maddie’s wedding was finally here. You had been busy all weekend and you finally felt yourself able to relax as you were sitting in a chair getting your make up done.

“He’s gonna be here. He’s invited.” Maddie glanced over her shoulder towards you as her hairstylist send her a glare for moving around.

“I know Maddie, I’ll be fine.” You weren’t sure if that was actually true but at least you could try to make yourself believe that. Maddie didn’t comment on that but you were sure that she wasn’t really believing you.

The ceremony was drawing closer as you helped with Maddie’s dress and later slipped into your dress as well.

Eventually there was a knock on the door from Kevin, who was picking you up to walk you downstairs to the ceremony. He offered to be your date. He was one of the only single guys that you knew and you were sure that I wouldn’t hurt to have him by your side.

“Ahh, of you’re you look absolutely beautiful.” He gave you a beaming smile as he escorted you to the down the stairs and outside.

“You look sharp too, Kev. A real suit guy.” You winked at him as his booming laugh shook his body.

“Okay, calm down with that roasting.” He wasn’t really serious though, he loved when you chirped him.

“When your big day coming anyway? Ever gonna settle down?” Your eyes glinted, you knew how much he wanted to get married and have kids.

He just scoffed before replying,

“Yeah, yeah. One day I will find the right girl, you just wait.”

You started to mix with other guest as more people were drawing in, since the ceremony was coming closer. You spoke to some of the guys, found Nolan and Kelsey before going of to the side the catch some air.

You overlooked the seats and the aisle leading towards a little podium and you felt that heartache again. You just couldn’t quiet shake that wedding sadness. You were lost in thought when you felt someone approaching.  

You knew it was him behind you before you even turned around. The two of you had seemingly always had that. That special connection. That buzzing feeling you would get if he was close to you. The way you would always find each other in a crowded room. Like two magnets pulling towards each other.

And knowing that you would never get that with anyone else, ever, made your heart feel heavy. Travis had always been the one for you and no matter how hard you tried nobody could ever take his spot. You could love someone, yes. You could even see yourself spend your life with someone. But this person could never be him. They would never be able to make you feel what he did. You could never get that special connection, that buzzing feeling with anyone else, ever.

“I’m sure you’ve already been told but… You look stunning, Y/N!” He stepped beside you while you turned to face him. He was dressed in your favourite navy suit and a crisp white dress shirt. He wasn’t wearing a tie, the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned instead. He gave you a shy smile. One that told you that he wasn’t entirely sure whether he just stepped over a line or not.

“Thank you. You don’t look to bad yourself, Travis.” An you meant it. He did look good. Better than he had in months. The bags under his eyes had disappeared, he looked younger now. More like his actual age. And there was a glint in his eyes. The sparkle that you used to love so much.

He stayed silent for a bit. You could see he was deep in thought, somewhere else even though physically he was beside you.  Just when you got used to the silence between you two, he spoke up again.

“You were right. We’re not the same people we once were. And we never will be. We will never be the Y/N and Travis we once were. And we will never be the couple we were then. People change and people grow. You’re not the same person at 20 than you were at 17. And you’re not the same person now than what you were at 20. And I just know that the person that I am now loves you just as much as the person I was at 20. Or the boy I was at 17. And I know that I will still love you when I’m 40. Or 70. I will never stop loving you, Y/N.”

He took a deep breath, trying to sort the words that were swirling around in his head into a sentence. His little speech left you breathless. You were sure he had been thinking about this for weeks. And he was right, people do change and people grow. But that doesn’t always mean that people grow in the same direction.

“I’ve always wanted this, you know?” He was gesturing around him. “Since I met you I knew that you were the one for me. That you were the one I was going to marry one day. You were the person I wanted to have kids with. I wanted this life for us so bad, I lost sight of us. I lost myself and the person I used to be. And when I realised that I felt like I had already pushed you into it. So I did the only thing I knew. I ran.”

Your heart felt heavy and looking at him wasn’t helping. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were trained on the ground but you could see the glazing over his eyes. He was close to tears and this truly hit home to you.

He had told you so many times that he didn’t intent to hurt you but you never believed him, how could you? But now you understood that he truly thought it was the only way. That he had already pushed you too far into the cage to retrack what he had done. That the only way to keep you from losing your freedom was to let you go. To leave the cage open and walk away.

He got it all wrong though. Because you didn’t feel like he was putting you in a cage or clipping your wings.

“I wanted to marry you, Travis. You weren’t pressuring me into it.” He had to know that, the last thing you wanted was for him to carry that guilt around.

He finally turned his gaze towards you and looked you in the eyes. His lips were pressed into a pained line.

“I know. I know that now.” His eyes searched for yours before he slowly took a step towards you.

He brushed a hair out of your face before giving you a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Enjoy the wedding. I might see you later.”  

The gesture was so sweet, so intimate. It felt so domestic, like something he would do everyday. A painful thought crossed your brain then. It felt so domestic because he used to do it everyday.

“You ruined weddings for me.” You didn’t mean to say those words out loud, you weren’t even consciously thinking them and to be honest you thought he was out of earshot already. But he stopped in his track and turned back to you. You didn’t dare to fully turn around, only just looking over your shoulder.

“I’ve ruined a lot of things for you, Y/N. I wish I could undo it.” And with that he vanished into the crowd.

You endured the ceremony. Well maybe that’s a bit harsh. You were happy for Maddie and Provy and the ceremony was incredibly beautiful. But you couldn’t help the bitter taste in your mouth. This should have been Travis and you, 3 years ago.

You let the wedding pass over you, you enjoyed hanging out with the team, catching up with the girls, you even let Kevin drag you to the dance floor.

You tiredly let yourself fall into a chair besides Kevin. You followed his gaze to another table. Travis was sitting there, seemingly without much company. You didn’t know whether he had  a date or not but by the looks of it was he here by himself. Kevin must have noticed that you were looking at Travis.

“If you’re ever going to forgive him and give him another chance, might as well do it now. I know he will wait for you for as long as you want but… you never know how long someone is going to stay in your life. Take it from someone who had both parents go through cancer and nearly lost a leg, okay? Life won’t wait around for you. Don’t let it pass you by.”

With that he rose from his chair beside you. You wanted to make some funny remark about him being all poetic and shit but he had already made his way towards the bar. You followed his advice non the less and made your way towards Travis.

“This seat taken?” He nearly fell off his chair once he realised who asked the question.

“Of course! Uh, I mean, no it’s not taken.” You chuckled at him stumbling over those words. You sat down.

“You seem lonely, no date?” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Was this to much? Did you step over a line? Travis seemed to relax himself and smiled.

“Ah haha, yeah no date. You came with Kevin?” It was nonchalant but you knew the deeper meaning behind his question.

“Yeah, always better to come with a friend than alone, you know.”

He nodded agreeingly before an uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you.

The songs were a slower than before which meant they weren’t as tiring as before. And before you could stop yourself your suggestion had already crossed your lips.

“Do you wanna dance?”  

An immediate smile spread across Travis’ face. “Yeah, of course. I mean if that’s what you want.”

You laughed quietly and nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that. Just don’t step on my feet.”

“I try my best.”

For a bit the two of you swayed quietly to the music. It was already rather late so there weren’t to may people on the dance floor. The song changed and you let out a dry laugh as you realised what song had come on. Travis must have notice your reaction too.

“What?” He looked confused. “What’s funny.”

“Nothing, just the song.” He stilled and listened to the music. It was a Lewis Capaldi song. And it hit closer to home than you liked.

I've been holding on to hope That you'll come back when you can find some peace 'Cause every word that I've heard spoken Since you left feels like an hollow street

 The song perfectly seemed to portray you and Travis. You felt your emotion dwelling up, as you heard the next verse.

I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind But I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind Oh my lord, oh my lord, I need you by my side

 You let out a choked laugh. “I wish I could get you off my mind, but I can’t. Part of me will always be yours, Trav.” You gave him small smile before singing that verse again as it was repeated.

“I've been told, I've been told to get you off my mind, but I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind. Oh my lord, oh my lord, I need you by my side.”

Travis seemed to understand your involvement with the lyrics as he gave you a sad smile.

“I was such a coward. I’m sorry Y/N.” He brushed a tear away that had started to roll down your cheek. “I should have fought for us, instead I gave up on us. I thought that the only way to give you the freedom I promised you, was to let go of you, to leave you. I was too much of a coward to let you fly free, because I thought you’d slip away and then I lost you anyway. I know you wanted to get married too but I should have never put that much pressure on it. I’m truly sorry.”

You leaned you forehead against his as you still slowly moved with the music. The song had changed now.

“I know Trav. I know. Do you think that one day we can be Y/N and Travis again? I mean not the same as we used to but a grown version. Do you think it could work again?”

You could hear Travis holding his breath as he patiently listened to you. His eyes were trained on yours, searching for meaning behind your words.

“Yeah, I think so. If you give me another chance I will prove it to you. Okay?”

You felt your heart speeding up at his words. Take a chance, you thought, before life passes you by. But instead of answering you leaned in and slowly connected your lips with his. The kiss was slow almost shy at first before Travis started to deepen it. Once you broke apart Travis slowly stroked your cheek before murmuring,

“You’re my always, you know that right?”

 Epilogue:

The two of you took it slow afterwards. Both of you needed to get to know each other again, ease into each other again. But it felt right. Being with Travis had always felt right. Once your lease was up you move in with him and you were thankful that he wasn’t living in your old house anymore. As much as you loved your old place that you had together and all the memories that came with it, you needed something else. After all you weren’t the people that you used to be then. And that was a good thing.

He never asked you to marry him. One day a little box with an new engagement ring had just been placed onto your nightstand. Travis only comment to this was that he had already proposed to you and that this time you were calling the shots when you felt ready to marry him. And whenever you felt ready the ring would be there. He let the old engagement ring be made into a pendant since it was to meaningful to your relationship to give it away and to pretty to just let it sit in a box. And now you were wearing one around your finger and one around your neck, close to your heart as Travis liked to say.

And then the day was here. You knew you were ready but that didn’t mean that you weren’t feeling a tiny bit anxious about your wedding day.

Maddie looked over your shoulder and soothingly rubbed your back.

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.” She gave you one of her bright smiles.

You quietly laughed. “As if Maddie. You looked like some top model or something at your wedding. But I’ll gladly take second.”

Maddie erupted in laughter while you gave her a sly smile. Her expression turned serious again as she eyed the object in your hands.

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually, Y/N.”

She was right, of course. And you knew you had to tell him sooner or later. You couldn’t keep it from him forever.

“I’ll go and get you something to drink, some water or something.” Maddie gave you a soft smile before making her way to the door. Just before she closed the door behind her you heard her say:

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here now…”

You felt like your heart stopped beating for a moment. An unwanted flashback crossed your brain.

The mental picture of Nolan making his way towards you with that cautious expression on his face.

“He’s not coming, Y/N.”  Those words would probably haunt you forever.

Just as you felt yourself starting to panic Travis appeared in the doorway and quickly closed the door behind him.

“Travis?!” You probably looked like you just saw the lochness monster or something. What was he even doing here?

He approached you with a sly smile on his face.

“Hey, babe.” “You’re not supposed to see me before the ceremony..” Your words lacked any kind of force or enthusiasm. And before you knew your soon to be husband had engulfed you in a hug.

“What? Who said that?” His voice was light, almost joking.

“It brings bad luck or misfortune if the groom sees the bride before the ceremony.” Your explanation sounded lame and you were actually happy to see him even if your initial surprise might let him believe otherwise.

He chuckled before giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “Ahh, that sounds pretty stupid. And you can’t blame me for wanting to say good morning to my wife.”

His eyes searched for yours while he gave you his brightest smile. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his antics. Then you remembered the object you’d held in your hands just a few moments before and you got serious again. Now was as good of a moment than ever.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” You felt yourself grow nervous, you knew there was no reason for it but you couldn’t help it.

“Don’t tell me you want to run away this time.” He was joking, a smirk plastered all over his face.

“Travis I’m serious!” At that his smile dropped. Uncertainty crossed his features.

You grabbed the little square paper you had put down moments ago.

“I’m pregnant.” You breathed out while handing him the ultrasound. His eyes nearly popped out of his head while he stared at the picture.

“I.. I … You..” He seemed lost for words and you were almost starting to get worried when he lifted him head up and looked into your eyes. He seemed to explode with happiness.

“I’m going to be a dad? This is not a joke right? We’re having a baby?” You could just nod as he picked you up and spun you around.

“Oh my god, this is the best day of my life.” He nearly knocked his head with yours as he dove in to give you a deep kiss. Once you pulled apart and you found your breath you spoke up.

“Promise me something, Travis. Promise me you won’t run again. Promise me that you’ll fight for us no matter what we face. Don’t ever let me go again, Trav.”

“Never! I promise.”

~ the end ~  

[yoongi-sugaglider]

Daegu Quarantine

Jungkook x reader

Gang/ zombie apocalypse au

Warnings:

Gore, violence, zombies, mention of drugs and drug dealing, weapons discharge in self defense, main character death, zombies, course language, zombies, drinking, did I mention zombies?

Summary:

They were the top of their game, known throughout the city as the smartest and most dangerous crew to ever hit the Daegu streets. But what’s going to happen when this group of young men encounter something right out of a horror film?

Word count: 2640

Part 15===Part 16===Part 17

The next handful of days became a blur of activity. Well, more so for the others than for me.

Hoseok and I had been ordered to strict bedrest, which only one of us actually took seriously. While I sat in bed most of the day, watching movies on my laptop or vegging out on as many snacks as I could convince Jeanette to bring me, Hoseok on the other hand snuck by Jimin as often as possible to help the boys with various projects around the house.

The only reason I even found out is because every few hours I’d hear Jimin fussing at him all the way up the stairs and back to the bodyguard’s bedroom.

I sat with Jeanette, Rose, and Jimin one afternoon, chatting away with them while Jimin checked my leg wound when Jungkook wandered into the bedroom, a stoic look on his face as he sat at his computer desk and turned to stare blankly at my injured leg.

“Something on your mind boss?” Jimin asked as he cinched the bandage tight and turned to begin putting his tools away in his bag.

“Mmm…” 

The noncommittal sound drew my attention and I frowned at him, worry creasing my forehead as I reached my hand over to the small throw pillow I’d been using to prop up my injured leg.

“Oi! Earth to Jeon!” I yelled, tossing the pillow overhand at him. He caught it midair, never breaking eye contact with my leg as he tossed it onto the floor beside him.

“We can’t let Eun Kwang get away with this…” He muttered, the stoic look dissolving into a frown when he finally met my eyes.

“We’ve talked about this Kookie. There’s no point to trying to retaliate. We have no idea where they’re holed up. Nor how many of them there are or what kind of fire power they’re packing.” I leaned forward, pulling my pajama pant leg down and leaning back into the headboard.

“If we had even a sliver of that information…”

“Jungkook please…” I whispered, eyes pleading with him to drop it.

He growled, shoving his way out of the chair and to his feet. Fists clenched at his sides he glared at me, though the moment didn’t last long as his gaze softened.

I shook my head, nodding to Jeanette and Rose. “We have far too much on the line to risk even one of us getting dropped because of some half thought out revenge scheme. Jungkook, going out there would be suicide.”

“You wouldn’t leave a girl widowed before you’ve even gotten a chance to marry her boss, would ya?” Jimin’s quiet words seemed to do the trick.

Jungkook stared at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape as if he’d had half a mind to argue with the words from the wise doctor. But after a moment of fish bowling he shut his mouth, shaking his head with a resigned sigh.

“No...you’re both right. It’s hot headed and foolishness that’d get me killed before I even made it halfway there.” He bowed his head for a moment, eyes closed as he inhaled slowly.

“See, Tae said you were a smart man.” Rose grinned at him, standing from the bed and patting him on his arm. “Come on bud, let’s get some food in ya. I bet you haven’t eaten all day have ya?”

I snorted at the two, waving them off and thanking Jimin for his hard work. The room quickly cleared out, leaving just me and Jeanette to ruminate in our thoughts for a bit while I shifted around in bed trying to find a comfortable spot to mope in.

“Hey y/n?” Came the whispered voice of Jeanette, causing me to pause in my movements.

“What’s up?” A smile came to my lips as I watched the timid woman worrying at the hem of her shirt.

“Well umm… I was talking to Jin this morning while we worked on breakfast...about the pantry and stuff?”

I nodded as she paused, motioning for her to continue when she glanced over to me with a look of worry.

“Well, it’s just that… Yes, we have an amazing pantry. MRE’s keep for ages and so do canned goods. But like...wouldn’t it be nice to have fresh produce?” When I remained silent and smiling at her words her face lit up.

She began talking faster, turning in place to sit cross legged before me. She pulled the pillow I’d discarded earlier into her lap to protect the tiny protrusion of her belly as she spoke at length about her plans.

“Since there aren’t that many of us it wouldn’t have to be that big at first. And of course it would take a while for anything to grow. But just imagine, come fall we could have all kinds of amazing fresh veggies. Corn, carrots, tomatoes and potatoes. I could even manage cucumbers and watermelon if we could find things for the vines to climb.”

I leaned forward, taking her hands in mine and running my thumbs reassuringly across the ridges of her knuckles as she spoke, watching the idea grow bigger and bigger within her. The passion in her voice alone had me picturing the enclosed area, teaming with life and greenery and her tiny plump form tending to the plants as she coo’d at them as if they were her own children.

As she began outlining plans for bird proof netting she paused though, mouth curved into a gentle O of surprise and if I didn’t know any better, fear as her head whipped to the door to stare at Yoongi who’d been watching us...well her, talk this whole time.

“Oh...Yoongi I…” She bowed her head, seeming to shrink in on herself as if seeing the man had taken the wind out of her sails.

“Go on…” He whispered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with an encouraging smile.

“It’s just….Jin told me to ask Hoseok, who pointed me to Jungkook, who told me to ask you...and well.”

“Jeanette…” My smile only grew when her gaze finally mine. Hope began shining in her eyes and it seemed that the entirety of her frame lit up with our shared excitement.

“I love the idea. Honestly. We can get Namjoon to draw up your plans. He’s basically a genius so I’m sure he could engineer it to be the second safest place in Daegu. And since we’ve been having issues with Hoseok sitting still for long enough, he can be on duty for helping you till the soil or anything else that you might need.”

“I’ll be there to help as well…”

I glanced over to Yoongi and he grinned at the shocked look on my face.

“All of my end of things is done. You can’t exactly expect me to sit on my thumbs while cleaning my weapons all day now can you?”

Jeanette giggled at his words, gingerly lifting herself from the bed and smoothing out the black YG shirt that drowned her figure, another of Yoongi’s favorite shirts.

“Thank you y/n. Really I mean it. I was worried that I wasn’t able to contribute enough to everything that was going on and well...with this…”

“Hey now, we talked about this.” Yoongi walked over, wrapping her in a side hug and tracing his fingers down the bare skin of her arm. “You’re doing plenty enough. Between laundry and helping Jin cook all the meals?”

“Exactly.” I chimed in, shifting to my side a bit so I could send her a less pained smile. “Nobody in this house thinks you’re a burden in any way. And if they even think it I’ll tell Jungkook to beat them up on the spot.”

Yoongi snickered, sending me another grin. “He’d do it too, no questions asked. So don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?”

She nodded after a moment’s hesitation.

“Well, alright then. It’s settled.” He began steering her towards the door, shooting me one last grateful smile. “Let’s get those plans started on. Let the boss lady get herself some rest.

As my bedroom door shut behind them, I couldn’t help but to wonder when and how they’d gotten so close.

***

By dinner time I’d managed to convince Jimin to let me down to the basement. Everyone was off doing their own thing and frankly sitting alone to eat in the bedroom again had made me so nauseous just thinking about it that I’d almost opted to skip dinner all together. But he’d seen the desperate plea in my eyes and relented, barring that I allowed Jungkook to carry me down there.

I sat with Taehyung and Rose, munching away at my meal as I watched them giggle over stories they shared of when they’d first met.

“It was a coding nightmare. I’d only been working for the main office for two months when they put his case in my lap. Some young kid that’d managed to bully his way into the Seoul Police department’s criminal database and posted all of the corrupt politicians with arrest warrants and speeding ticket fees to every news site that he could get his grubby little hands on.” Rose cackled, throwing her head back as her entire body shook with the force of her laugh.

“Hey! That was some of my best work!” Taehyung pouted, tossing a wayward green bean in her direction and causing her to snort harder.

“Best work? You had everything so scrambled from that little backdoor snipe that it took their tech department 2 years to set everything straight.” She shook her head, popping the betrayed green bean in her mouth before tossing one of her own in his direction.

He caught it in his mouth easily, smirking all the while before continuing his rant. “It was the art job that did me in.”

“Art job?” I leaned forward, almost instantly regretting the movement when a rib shifted and sent a spike of pain shooting through my chest.

“Shit, you good?” Tae asked, looking as if he was half way to dropping everything to come to my rescue.

I waved him off, shoving a hand over the cursed injury and grinning despite the pain.

“I’m fine. Now come on, tell me about the art job!”

Rose snorted, placing her plate beside her and leaning back on her hands to give Tae a coy smile. “It was why I call him Art Nerd. He decided it would be a good idea to hack into the archives of one of the biggest art museums in the world.”

“You wouldn’t believe it!” Tae tossed up his hands, all angst and agitation as he stood abruptly and began pacing the room. “Of all the places you would think that would be trustworthy about their pieces and whether they were authentic or not. The Louvre!!” He paused in his pacing, pointing angrily to his computer before spinning on his heels to scowl at me when I began snickering.

“Did you know…” He paused, stalking closer and bending forward to glare in my face, “that 87% of all the art in the Louvre is fake?”

I gasped, feigning shock at the revelation.

“That’s right! It’s a travesty! They spit on the names of the greatest artists to have ever walked the face of this planet!” He growled, turning from me to begin pacing again. “The nerve of those imbeciles. Displaying Van Gogh forgeries as if they were the real deal.”

“Needless to say when he tried to tell the world what he found out he got caught.” Rose shook her head, picking at the last of her mashed potatoes with her fork.

She glanced over at me, sly smile broadening into a full grin.

“Did you know he was wanted in 27 countries for that little debacle?”

“Tae!!!” I gasped, eyes wide as I stared at him in awe.

He shrugged, literally beaming at this point with pride though he tried to play it off as bashfulness.

Rose pointed behind me and I shifted around to stare.

“Wait…” My eyes widened with equal parts horror and pride as I whipped my head around to glare at Taehyung. “Tae...you didn’t!!”

This time he couldn’t disguise the pride. He bounded around the sofa, skidding to a stop before what I had previously thought was just a bunch of band posters. There, hanging on the wall was what Tae had told us long ago was a quilt that his grandmother had given him.

He’d sworn that he’d remove the hands of anyone who ever dared touch it. Hell he’d chased Jungkook halfway to downtown Daegu once for nudging it with his shoulder during one of the boy’s many playful basement wrestling matches. But as he slowly and reverently lifted the blanket I quickly realized the real reason why he treasured it so much. Right there on the wall, hanging between two trashy band posters was…

“Tae is that Starry Night?? Like… the actual real fucking deal Starry Night?????” I screeched.

“I couldn’t help it. When I found out they’d hung it between two forgeries I just knew I had to save it.” He lovingly traced his fingers above the protective glass, never actually touching it but making the motions nonetheless.

Rose muttered behind me, snickering into her hand as Tae dropped the quilt back into place and turned to frown at her.

“What was that Jangmi?” he growled, his already baritone voice dropping as he walked back to stand over her.

She squeaked, shrinking back as he crouched down and lifted her chin with a single finger so that she was forced to look him in the eyes.

“I said...I...hnnggg…” The brilliant blush rushing to her cheeks had me bursting with laughter, gripping my sides as I pressed myself into the sofa.

“Damn you two are adorable.” I wheezed, wiping at my tears as I watched the two hackers spring apart as if they’d forgotten I was there.

Tae gathered up our dishes, muttering to himself all the while as he disappeared upstairs. But not before I spotted his own crimson cheeked grin.

“Huh…” Rose muttered. I returned my attention to her, realizing quickly that she was now staring at the security feed pulled up on the tv before us.

“What’s up?” I asked, eyes darting over the various live images before settling on one that showed Jeanette and Seokjin talking in the area they’d decided would be the future garden.

“I thought I saw something.” Came Rose’s absent minded reply. She clicked on the video I’d been watching, bringing it up to fill the screen and squinting at a corner of the shed beside the unaware pair.

“Are you sure?” I whispered, straining to make anything out in the depths of the shadows.

“Maybe not… Tae’s better at security monitoring than I am… Let me just…”

She began typing rapidly, a series of commands appearing on screen before a top down view of the area appeared.

“Is that…”

“A live satellite view, yeah. I figured, I’ve got access to them, why not use them…” She clicked again, zooming in rapidly before suddenly screaming. “Oh shit! There’s chatterers outside the fucking gates!”

“The fuck did you just say!?”

We both screamed as Jungkook charged around the sofa, appearing as if from nowhere and grabbing Rose’s arm in a death grip.

“What do you mean there’s chatterers outside the gates?” Jungkook glared at Rose, the hardened criminal in him causing her to cower as far back as his grip would allow her.

“Kook…”

“I’m sorry okay! I was wondering what it was that I’d seen in the backyard, and when I switched to the satellite feed I saw them. It’s at least 30 of them. Jungkook, we’re surrounded!”

[starrysky-whumpfics]

Family Feud

Ethan and Connor haven’t seen each other since they were ten and fifteen years old, the day that their mother passed away. Nine years have now passed, and Ethan and Connor are brought back together, both on opposite ends of a cruel ordeal. Connor is willing to do whatever necessary to pay off his debts, he hardly remembers Ethan anyways. All he needs is to get the money and then Ethan will be released and they never have to speak again. That was the plan at least…

It is rather rare for one to show even an ounce of kindness when one has never had kindness shown to them, or at least, not in a very long time. Ethan remembered the kindness of his mother, one of the few he knew who ever tried being kind to him. Not just towards him either, but even towards strangers in the street that would yell obscenities at her when she passed by. The memory that stood out most was when she nearly collided with a man in the street, the stranger had begun to scream threats and words of anger towards his mother. Her response, however, was not to apologize, but she handed him some money from her wallet and wished for him to have a better day. It had been quite a generous offer, even the stranger was hesitant on taking the amount until his mother insisted. He thanked her, apologizing for his words, and told her about how he had just lost his job. His mother gave him the money and had hugged him before continuing on home with Ethan. She had been kind, even until the day she died just after his tenth birthday, she had been kind and lived her life making those around her happy. Ethan hoped to be as kind as her in his life, and clung to the memory of her as a reminder of why.

Lying on a cold floor, bound by tight ropes around his wrists and ankles, Ethan thought about his mother, how much he missed her. He didn’t wish that she was here with him though, not down here where he would have to see her gentle eyes turn to fear. He wouldn’t be able to truly see her, thanks to the blindfold wrapped around his eyes, but he would know.

He’d been down here for what seemed like days, or maybe it had only been a few hours, he had no way of keeping track. Except for the few times that he had fallen asleep, beginning to assume those as day and night cycles. The bandana tied around his mouth was damp and was beginning to taste old, another indicator of time passing. He hadn’t yet faced his captor, and had already tried screaming for help, but no one had ever come down.

Ethan slowly sat himself up, leaning back against where he could feel the wall, trying as he had many times before to loosen the blindfold, or even the gag which would have been a greater relief. Much to his surprise, the blindfold started being tugged down as he moved his head along his shoulder, he started moving faster until the fabric fell around his neck. His surroundings were nearly pitch black, except for a light coming from the other side of a nearby door, creeping in from underneath. To him, it was better than nothing. He took a moment to breathe through his nose before beginning to work on the gag, which had been tied much more tight than the blindfold had been. With the blindfold off though, he could just barely make out a nail several inches above him sticking out from the wall.

Ethan slowly pushed himself up, moving his head near the nail until he could get the gag caught against it, then tugged forward until the bandana was torn apart, allowing him to simply spit it out from his mouth. He coughed loudly, his throat cracked and dry from thirst. He was halfway to freedom, all he had to do now was—

“Go fucking check on him! It’s been two days! He probably dehydrated now, you’ll be lucky if he isn’t dead.” Ethan panicked upon hearing voices, he hadn’t heard anyone here yet. Of course though, the moment he finally had the sense to free himself, his captors decided to finally show themselves.

“I just got a little nervous!” The other voice yelled back. “I’m still waiting to here back and I thought you would be a lot quicker! I’ve got this handled though.”

“Oh dear god…just follow me. I will handle this and you will watch closely.” Footsteps began walking around, Ethan scrambled back against the wall as the door opened wide. A taller man emerged through, rapidly approaching him and picking up the torn gag from the ground. He was followed closely behind by another man, younger than the first, but definitely seemed older than Ethan, who was only nineteen.

“Did you do this?” He asked Ethan, holding it up.

“Y—“ he barely got a word out before a hand was pushed over his mouth.

“I’d rather if you simply nodded for me. I’ll get you some water and then I’ll get this figured out I suppose.” Ethan slowly nodded, the hand was removed and replaced with a bottle of water, allowing him to drink until the bottle was empty. It didn’t feel like nearly enough, but he was better than before.

Ethan could feel his face growing hot. Tears were pooling up in his eyes, his stuffed nose beginning to leak and bubble as he started sobbing. The bandana that had previously been in his mouth was pressed against his face, cleaning him up.

“Hey…Ethan?” A different voice spoke to him now. The younger one that had followed the taller man. “We’ve got a minute or two before he gets back. I need you to breathe and calm down.” Ethan realized that he recognized the voice now, he knew exactly who this was.

“Connor…?” He asked, he couldn’t believe how long it took to recognize his own older brothers voice, though this was to be fair his first up close interaction. He also hadn’t spoken to Connor in years.

“Hey…look I’m really sorry, but I needed an easy target for my initiation and you’re just…you know…you’re just easy to intimidate. We’re not going to kill you, but lately I’ve been failing at my assignments, losing a lot of money. I’m back at the training stages.” He explaining.

“I don’t have anything and I don’t know anything. Just let me go, there’s no one I even could tell about this! You wouldn’t be in risk of trouble!”

“I already sent our father the ransom—“

“He won’t pay it!” Ethan snapped. “He won’t pay it…” he repeated, his voice breaking.

“I have to get that money back…I’ll do whatever I have to do. If he won’t do it, then someone will.”

“Connor! Please don’t do this, we’re supposed to be brothers…” Ethan pleaded. Connor’s eyes softened but he slowly shook his head.

“I can’t…my hands are tied. Figuratively…not literally like…just shut up, he’s coming back.” Connor said quickly as the door opened again, the taller man from before walked in carrying a bag.

“Alright, gag him again.” He instructed, tossing Connor a baggie. “We don’t need him to talk right now.

“I won’t scream, I promise. Just please don’t put that thing back in, the ropes already hurt.” Ethan pleaded.

“Joel…the ropes are pretty tight and the basement is decently soundproof. It was just a precaution in the start but we’ll both we keeping an eye on him. We could at least do something courteous.” Connor asked. Joel stared at Ethan for a moment, as if studying him.

“Gag him.” He affirmed, not trusting Connor. “Actually, let me do it since last time he managed to actually get it off himself. Imagine if you hadn’t been here and he started screaming.” Joel criticized, walking over and pulling a bandana out of the bag.

“Please no…” Ethan asked again as the bandana was shoved into his mouth, another one was tied around his mouth and then secured behind his head. “Connor…please don’t do this!” he begged through tears. His words were muffled and garbled by now.

“Better. Now watch, I’ll show you just how effective this will be.” Joel stood up and kicked Ethan as hard as he could. Ethan let out a scream, the sound drowning in the gag. He let out another lost scream as Joel kicked him again. The kicking continued to persist until Joel noticed Ethan wasn’t even reacting anymore.

“He’ll probably just pass out. Watch him for now. I’ll set up for our game night tonight with the others. Everyone has finally forgiven you, especially with this challenge you’ve taken on, I think it could just be like old times.” Joel instructed to Connor, patting his shoulder before walking away.

Connor knelt down next to Ethan, checking his pulse and running a hand through Ethan’s hair.

“Just go to sleep, Joel can be a little extreme sometimes, it won’t be worse than that though.” He promised, not knowing that was far far from the truth. Ethan just nodded, turning as best as he could away from Connor before allowing darkness to take him over.

[harrystylesleftkneecap]

New person, same mistakes (1)

This was requested a very long time ago. I disappeared bc school is hard lmao. I’m back and will take requests!

Summary: After losing your parents, you move to the OBX with your cousin to continue your teenage years. The RULE makes for unsteady relationships, and several heartbreaks. 

Warnings: mentions of sex, drug use, abuse, violence , read at your own risk. 

Kie and her family were such angels for letting you come stay with them. After losing your parents, a new way of life was so incredibly refreshing. You were finally finding out who you were. Your aunt and uncle were so accommodating, and Kie made it much easier to make friends.

After a long day on the boat, you were finally stepping off onto steady ground. Your legs were sore, skin burning from the blistering sun, and to say you were dehydrated would be an understatement. The boys only brought alcohol along, and you and Kie had brought along some Capri suns, but ran out halfway through the day. The alcohol was still in your system, and you slowly trotted to the chateau, cooler in hand making the trek no easier.

“Hey, let me get that.” John b spoke, coming to your side. You looked at the brunette boy, his freckles prominent due to the sun exposure.

“Uh, it’s okay John b, I’ve got it.” You sighed, refusing the help of your former flame.

“Seriously, give it here.” He sighed, his hand brushing yours as he took the cooler from your grasp.

You lied there, completely bare with the brunette boy sighing next to you.

“We can’t keep doing this.” John b broke the silence.

You froze, trying to comprehend the words that just fell past his lips.

“W-what?” You said, rising and letting the cover fall exsposing your bare chest.

“Cmon y/n, you know the rule.” He breathed, standing from the bed to put his clothes back on.

“What? The stupid no pogue on pogue macking? You’re really gonna try to enforce that now?” You scoffed, standing to get dressed as well.

John b looked at you, “if the others found out, they would flip. And we’ve been best friends for years. I feel like we should stop while we’re ahead.”

“Seriously? Stop while we’re ahead?” You scoffed, pulling your shoes on “ I’m pretty sure they’ve got a pretty good idea about what’s going on already.”

“Maybe I just want to stop.” He said, making you freeze once again.

You slowly turned to face him, trying your best to keep the tears from spilling over your eyes.

“You want to stop? What happened to love John B? Huh? Was that all a stupid play to get in my fucking pants?” You spoke, your voice raising slightly.

John b shot his hands out towards you, in an effort to keep you calm. “Y/n! They’re outside, don’t wake them up!”

“Whatever John b.” You scoffed, grabbing your things and flinging the door to his room open.

You quickly made your way through the living room, seeing JJ smoking God knows what on the couch.

“Hey, where are you going?” He asked, his face suddenly scrunching in concern as John b came out behind you.

“Home- kie’s- what the fuck ever!” You groaned, finally making your way out of the chateau.

JJ watched as you got in your car, and swiftly drove off, dirt flying up behind your tires.

“John b-“

“Don’t, it’s nothing.” He sighed, dropping his arms to his side and making his way to the fridge.

“Y/n?” You wer suddenly brought out of your thoughts when JJ spoke to you.

John B had long ago made it into the chateau, and you and JJ were the only ones outside.

“Uh yeah, what’s up J?”

“Well you were just kinda standing here, not moving.” He told you.

“Yeah, just, lost in my thoughts I guess.” You stifled a laugh.

He nodded, and the two of you made your way through the thick summer air to the chateau.

Kie always told you that you were too good for John b, he didn’t really know what he had when he had it.

It took months, but you finally got back into the dating game eventually. And so say the other pogues were happy for you would be a lie.

You missed John b, you missed what the two of you had. But you were with someone else now.

Before you entered the chateau, tires crunched onto the rocks, signaling someone pulling into the chateau.

You turned to see the all to familiar car, music blasting for everyone to hear.

You rolled your eyes as your boyfriend stepped out of the car, strolling up to your place on the porch causing JJ to scoff.

You slapped him lightly

“I’m gonna go inside before I kill someone.” He spoke, causing your boyfriend to roll his eyes.

As JJ stepped over the threshold into the small house, your boyfriend wrapped his hands around your waist.

“Hey rafe.” You giggled, turning into his chest and inhaling his woody sent.

“Hey babe.” He sighed, slightly stumbling as he pulled you in even closer.

“Woah, are you okay?” You questioned, tugging away to get a better look at his face.

He was flushed, warm with beads of sweat cascading down his forehead.

“Of course I am babe.” He brushed you off, moving his head to place a rather rough kiss on your neck.

“Rafe, what are you doing? We are literally on John B’s porch.” You spoke, trying to push his heavy weight off your body.

“Cmon baby, let’s go get in the car and I’ll make you feel good, yeah?” He purred, his hands snaking up your bikini top.

“Rafe!” You said loudly, finally mustering the strength to push him off you.

“What’s your deal?” He yelled, shocking you at his sudden outburst.

With wide eyes, you scoffed, “what’s my deal? What’s yours! You’re literally trying to get into my pants on someone’s porch!”

“You don’t want me.” He deadpanned, taking his sunglasses off and running his hands through his hair.

“Of course I want you, just not right now, an-and not on a front porch for Gods sake!” You responded, pulling your face into his hands.

“Rafe,” you questioned, staring into his eyes concern and fear bubbling in your stomach.

“Rafe, are you high right now?” You whispered.

He rolled his eyes, “it doesn’t matter y/n, what matters is you don’t want to have sex with me, you want to break up!” He nearly cried, sitting on the steps with his hands pulling at his hair.

“Baby, of course I want you. But not while you’re high off God knows what! What have you been doing?”

“Just get away from me!” He yelled, swatting his hand at your legs before standing to walk to his car.

You jumped back in surprise, and watched as your boyfriend stalked off to his car before swiftly pulling off onto the street.

You were shocked to say the least, why was he being like this? You gave him every part of you, sometimes when you didn’t even want to. All you wanted to do was please him, make him happy.

You turned to see your friends watching intently from inside, and your cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment.

You opened the door to silence, other than the light ping of a bottle cap hitting the counter as JJ brought a cool beer to his lips.

“Are you okay?” Kie began.

You scanned the faces in the room, some of concern and others reading disappointment.

“Let’s just go home.” You sighed, turning to begin walking out. Kie said bye to the boys and quickly followed you onto the path.

“What was that?” She questioned, the orange glow from the sun casting beautiful shadows across the water.

“I don’t know.” You sighed, continuing the walk to your home, or, Kie’s home.

You tried calling Rafe a million times that night, laying in bed contemplating what you did wrong. Why did he feel like he needed to use drugs, were you not enough for him, like you weren't enough for John B? 

thankfully, a light knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts. A blonde head of messy hair peaked around the corner of you door. 

“Are you dressed?” JJ’s voiced sounded, and you just curled up into your covers more, willing him to go away. 

“I’m coming in wether you like it or not, and to be honest I don’t really care if you’re dressed or not.”

Once JJ fully stepped into the room, he contemplated following kie’s orders to drag you along to the kegger. 

“JJ I don’t want to go.” You spoke, staying put in your mountain of blankets. 

“Well kie is gonna kick my ass if i don’t come downstairs with you, so this isn’t really about you.” 

Sighing, you sat up to see JJ’s lips quirked into a smile. You knew she really would kick his ass, so for the betterment of your friend you obliged. 

“okay, but I’m not going to have fun.” You told him, and he chuckled softly. 

“That’s okay, come on you can wear that, we’re already running late.” He said, pulling you out the door. 

The kegger wasn’t too crazy, just a handful of people and a cool night. You sat in a lawn chair, eyes on the fire when you felt a presence next to you. you were met with those all too familiar hazel eyes. 

“Hey.” he spoke. 

you cleared your throat, “Hey John B.”

He sighed, kicking sand as he rested his chin in his hands. He took a deep breath before sighing,

“I just thought you should know that I’m with sarah now.” 

you rose your eyebrows, “Now? You were with her before we broke up, and then threw me away like I meant nothing to you.” 

He sighed and stood before saying, “Y/n I loved you, I really did-“

“Yeah but you love Sarah more, don’t you?” You chuckled dryly, bringing your beer to your lips.

“Y/n we-“

“Just go John b, I don’t want to hear it.”

He slowly stalked away, joining the blonde girl who had no idea you’ve had your hands on every inch of his body. Touched every dimple and freckle that littered his skin. 

Before you could spiral any further, a loud motor lured you from your thoughts. 

seriously, who would bring a motorcycle out here? 

Oh, thats who. 

You stood apprehensively as Rafe made his way to you. 

“Hey baby.” He smiled, wrapping you tightly in a hug. 

“Rafe where did you get that motorcycle?” You asked him. 

“Don’t worry about it! Do you wanna come back to my place?” He asked, placing his hands on your hips, slowly drinking in your appearance. 

“Um, no not right now.” You said, notice the same dilated pupils you had seen just hours earlier. 

“Rafe, your’e high.” You scoffed, pulling away from him. 

“Yeah, so what,” He chuckled, reaching into his pocket retrieving a bag of a curious white powder, “You want some?” He offered, pushing the bag to you. 

“What! No!” You said, shaking your head at the boy in front of you.

“Whats your problem Y/N? Just take some, it makes you feel good.” He pushed further, dumping some of the contents onto his finger. 

He thrust his powder covered digit towards your face, and you turned away in disgust.

“No Rafe.” 

“Cmon, stop being a bitch and take it.” He harshly urged, grabbing you by the back of your head, gripping your hair and placing his finger under your nose. 

You thrashed in his grip, before finally falling to the ground. White powder falling over you, almost like the snow from back home.

“Seriously! You fucking bitch! Do you know how much that cost me!” He yelled, throwing his hands up in anger. 

He was starting to catch the attention of the others around you, especially JJ.

“Rafe I-I’m sorry.’ You choked out, starting to stand when a blunt force rammed into your side. 

You screamed in pain as you fell back into the sand. A dull throbbing shooting through your body. 

Did he just kick me? You struggled to sit up as he continued his mindless yelling. 

Instantly someone was at your side, helping you up as you watched JJ and pope hold Rafe from doing any more damage. 

tears spilled over your cheeks, and your body racked with sobs as kie pushed your hair out of your face, trying to calm you down. 

Of course John b wasn’t here to help

Rafe noticed your tears, and he instantly calmed, his face softening. 

“Oh, y/n I am so sorry-” 

“Shut up Rafe, we’re through!” You screamed at him, sobbing harder as kie held you against her body. 

she shot at look at JJ and pope, making JJ say, “Okay man, you gotta go.” 

“No! Y/n I’m sorry!” He cried, fighting against the two boys once more. 

“I said go man!”JJ raised his voice, forcefully pushing Rafe back to the bike he came in on.

Rafe sighed, and turned pulling his hair and kicking sand.

JJ made his way over to you, standing behind you and placing his hands on your shoulders while kie continued to tame your sobs.

“JJ h-he kicked m-me.” You choked out, and he whispered a soft I know in your hair.

JJ nodded kie off, and she took the hint, allowing you to fall into JJs grasp.

“Cmon, let’s go get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You nodded, leaning into him as he held your arm to aid your limp.

“Where’s John b?” You whispered, and JJ kept quiet, slowly leading you back to the chateau.

The others started to clear the party, wanting you to be able to calm down alone.

Once again, someone treated you like you were nothing. Maybe you are trash. Where did you go wrong?

JJ slowly walked by your side, letting you lean into him before you reached the porch of the chateau.

“JJ, I-I’m sorry.”

“What? You have nothing to be sorry for?” He spoke, leading you through the kitchen and into the small bathroom.

“You- you told me about him, you warned me, a-and I didn’t listen.” You sobbed, JJ slowly easing you down onto the closed seat of the toilet.

“Sometimes you can’t help who you fall in love with, it’s not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for. And he’s lucky I didn’t bash his face in right there.” He said, squatting down to your level and Placing his hand on your chin to make you look at him.

Tears continued spilling out of your Y/E/C eyes, as JJ moved the sand clumped strands of hair out of your face.

His blue eyes looked into yours, and for a moment he contemplated his next moves, should he go beat the fucker up?

But he decided he needed to be here with you.

“You need to clean up, do you want me to leave you or?”

“I-I don’t think I can, my side really hurts.” You choked, steadying yourself in the blondes shoulder.

“Okay, I’m gonna go find kie-“

“No JJ, it’s fine, I just want to get cleaned up so I can lay down.” You told him, looking back up to meet his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll run you a bath.” He spoke softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder before starting the water.

“I’m used to people seeing me at this point.” You whispered, as he helped you stand and remove your clothing.

“What?” JJ was confused.

“I never really wanted to do the things Rafe wanted me to, I just thought I had to. I didn’t want him to leave me. But I guess it never really mattered.”

JJ wanted to cry, and go beat the shit out of the boy who forced you into things, kicked you, and made you feel like shit.

“You don’t ever have to worry about him again, I got you. I promise.” He said, lowering you into the warm tub water.

You closed your eyes as the warm water hit the throbbing bruise on your side, you continued crying as the events replayed in your head.

JJ slowly leaned you back to wash the clumps of dirt and sand out of your hair, your body limp as he held you.

His face scrunched up in concentration, seeming to have never washed another persons hair before.

You watched as his eyes focused on your h/c locks, rinsing them tenderly as to not cause you any unnecessary pain.

He raised you, water cascading down your back when a knock sounded at the door.

“Yeah?” JJ questioned, dunking a washcloth in the water and lathering it with soap.

“JJ, have you seen y/n?” Kies voice sounded from outside the bathroom.

“Yeah, she’s In here.” He spoke, beginning to wash your arms and torso as kie pushed the door open.

She gasped at the sight of her cousin, kneeling down beside JJ.

“Y/n...”

“I’m okay.” You croaked, throat sore from sobbing.

“That bruise is bad, do you think you need to go to the doctor?” She asked you, pushing strands of wet hair from your face as jj ran the washcloth over the forming purple and red contusion on your ribs.

You gasped and he let a soft sorry fall past his lips.

“I think it’s ok.” You whispered, as JJ finished and grabbed a towel to help you from the tub.

“I um- need clothes.” You whispered, clinging on to JJ as you stepped from the now cool water.

“Okay, I have some you can borrow.” He told you, sitting you down on the toilet to retrieve some clothes he had left in the chateau.

Kie looked at you concerned, wondering what you were thinking.

“I would’ve helped you with the bath you know.” She told you, sitting on the counter top.

“I know, I’m okay with JJ though.” You whispered, twirling your hair into a bun.

“Hey, are you alright?” Pope spoke, coming into the bathroom.

“Uh yeah, a little shaken but I’m fine.” You smiled.

He smiled back at you, falling into conversation.

Jj was rummaging through his room in the chateau, trying to find something decent to let you borrow. He could hear noises coming from John Bs room, and he rolled his eyes at the fact John b was to caught up with a kook to even know what had just happened to you.

Jj returned to the bathroom with a T-shirt and boxers, handing them to you before walking out with Pope to let kie help you change.

“He’s lucky I didn’t bash his face in man.” Jj sighed, leaning over the kitchen counter.

“What a dick.” Pope responded, falling onto the couch.

“John b doesn’t even know.” Jj said, looking to his friend.

“I know.”

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 5

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Language, reference to smoking (cigarettes), allusions to NSFW topics

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea

Gettin' sold, second hand

That's how it goes, playin' in a band

It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock 'n' roll

~ AC/DC - It’s A Long Way to the Top ~

Halfway through their first week back on tour, their time in London was slowly drawing to an end. Lizzie couldn’t quite believe how fast the days seemed to fly by, each one a blur of tiredness, boredom and the addictive rush of adrenaline when they were on stage. Every day and night was like the one before and totally different all at once.

It felt like only yesterday that she had stepped from the plane back from America; at the same time, being surrounded by all the familiar faces and living in long established routines, her break from the hustle and bustle already seemed like an eternity away. Lizzie could still feel the last traces of jetlag wearing her down sometimes, but at least her shifted rhythm helped her stay energised during the shows; not that she was getting much sleep afterwards either.

Wrecked from her chronic lack of sleep, Lizzie had missed her alarm this morning. When she arrived at the largest dressing room of the O2 Arena, she found the rest of the band already assembled.

Merula and Everett were sitting at the huge table in the middle of the room, Everett scrolling through his social media accounts while Merula was painting her nails in a dark violet colour. Skye was slumped onto one of the sofas at the back of the room, a magazine spread across her lap. She looked up from the colourful pages as she saw Lizzie enter.

“About time you’re showing Jameson; thought you’d gotten lost somewhere. Where’ve you been?”

Lizzie sat down on the arm of the sofa Orion was sitting on; he lifted his head briefly and smiled before bending over his notebook again. Lizzie tried catching a glimpse of the lyrics he was scribbling down but he covered them with his hand. With a shrug, Lizzie turned her attention to Skye.

“I overslept and then ran into Charlie. Murphy and KC are gone somewhere, ‘having a meeting’ apparently.”

“That’s what they’re calling it these days,” Merula muttered under her breath, making Skye snort with laughter.

“Anyway,” Lizzie chuckled, “they’re not here to show the new pyro girl around. They left the job to Charlie, but apparently she’s late and no one knows how to reach her. He’s a little grumpy about it.” She furrowed her brow in concern. “I hope that doesn’t make for a bad start. Charlie had better behave, from what KC told me the newbie is promising.”

“A female pyro tech, just when I thought I’d seen it all,” Everett scoffed. “I mean, how good can she even be?”

Merula arched an eyebrow at him, her eyes sparkling dangerously. “You have a problem with a woman on the job, or what?”

Everett blatantly ignored her, however. “Hopefully we’ll have something to look at this time, right Orion?”

Orion was trying not to roll his eyes. “What we portray on the outside pales in comparison to what we carry in our hearts; as long as she’s a good person who is sure of what she’s doing, nothing can go wrong.”

“Getting along with Charlie would help, too,” Lizzie added.

A grin tugged at Orion’s lips. “It would indeed.”

Everett looked at him sceptically and shook his head. “Listen to you, as if you didn’t care about looks as well.”

Now Orion finally looked up from his notebook for good and frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Stop acting all innocent, everyone knows you’re getting your fair share of groupies as well,” Everett laughed, obviously finding the thought of someone preferring Orion to him hilarious. “Hotel room walls aren’t the thickest, you know.”

Lizzie almost choked on the bottle of water she had helped herself to. She was trying her hardest not to blush as her eyes flickered to Orion. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before she busied herself with the lid of her bottle, hopefully looking more innocent than she felt. She could tell by the way Orion was trying to keep a straight face that Everett’s remark came just as surprising to him as it did to her.

Clearing his throat, Orion replied levelly “I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s a wonder you’re able to hear anything over the racket you’re making most nights.”

Everett shrugged. “At least I’m open about it.”

“As much as I hate to say it, but Ev has a point,” Skye chimed in all of a sudden. She was waving her magazine through the air. “According to the Daily Mail, you’ve had at least six affairs ever since we’ve been to Spain. They mark you down as quite the casanova.” Same as Everett before, the thought seemed to amuse her to no end.

Merula rolled her eyes at Skye. “Why are you even reading that shit?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Skye shrugged. “And it’s fucking hilarious.”

Meanwhile, Lizzie had regained her composure. “Well, don’t keep us on the rack. What’s the latest news?”

Skye cleared her throat before scanning the pages. “After things got frosty between us in Poland, Lizzie and I have apparently decided on an open relationship. Good for us,” she looked up and blew her friend a kiss, which made Lizzie giggle. “They’re still taking bets when Merula is going to come out of the closet -”

“What is this bullshit with me being gay all the time,” Merula snarled.

“You just give that vibe, I know what I’m talking about,” Skye shrugged indifferently before carrying on. “We already had Orion being a ladies’ man and Ev… “

Skye trailed off as she read the paragraph again and looked up after she had finished. “There are pictures of you with Rita Skeeter in here, what’s that about?”

“None of your business,” Everett answered brusquely.

Lizzie saw Skye’s face darken at his tone and quickly snatched the magazine out of Skye’s hands. Just as anticipated, Skye’s attention immediately went to her as she tried to get it back.

The potential fight being dissolved before it had begun, the mood was gradually calming down again. It was an almost relaxed atmosphere in the dressing room, when the door opened and Ethan walked in. He looked very tense and as the door fell shut behind him with a bang, the muscles around his mouth were tight. He exhaled slowly, his hands running over his lessening brown hair.

Skye was disconcerted to see her father looking so unusually stressed. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

He held up a hand to silence her before producing a crumpled package of cigarettes from his pocket. Flicking his silver lighter open, he held the flame to one of them. “I’ll explain in a minute.”

“You do realise that there’s smoke detectors in here?” Lizzie pointed out apprehensively. “I don’t know about you but I don’t care much about getting soaked.”

Ethan took the glowing cigarette out of his mouth again and put it out against the nearest table. “Fucking rules,” he muttered. “Nobody gave a shit back in my days.”

Orion looked up from his notebook, his dark eyes unreadable as they took in Ethan’s nervous demeanour. “It’s clear to see that you’re agitated, but a pain is shared is a pain halved. What’s the matter?”

Ethan sighed, wistfully closing the packet of cigarettes before stowing it away in his pocket. “I had a few calls back and forth with the label over the last few days.”

“So?” Skye urged him on.

“They’re not particularly impressed with what the press is writing about you at the moment. They’re considering cutting the budget for the next album by half.”

His words went down like a lead balloon in the silence spreading throughout the room; no one could believe what they were hearing.

“Why the fuck would they do that?” Skye finally managed to croak out. “The next album was going to be our biggest production so far.”

“Why are they even thinking about it?” Lizzie agreed. “We’re playing to a full house every night. We’re doing a great job, if I may say so, and the reviews have all been really positive so far. The press has been good.”

But Ethan shook his head. “No, Lizzie, the press hasn’t been good at all. People don’t care about professional reviews in respectable magazines anymore. Everything the public sees is what’s written in those goddamn tabloids.” He was eyeing Skye’s copy of the Daily Mail with a grim face. “And they’re having a field day with you; have been for a while now.”

His look darkened further as his gaze swept the round of musicians assembled in front of him, resting particularly long on Everett, who didn’t budge in the slightest.

“Some of you are taking this whole ‘rockstar’ lifestyle too seriously. What was fun and games in my time doesn’t work today anymore. I’ve been told that the label had to fork out a good amount of money to get some positive stories about you out, counter the negative attention you’ve been getting.”

His words were met with icy silence, none of them feeling personally addressed by Ehtan’s barely hidden accusation.

“Listen,” he continued more placatory, “I know sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll are all fun to do, I’ve been there myself. But these days, people aren’t as easy about diva behaviour and trashed hotel rooms.”

Again, he was giving Everett a hard stare. “Cleaning up behind you costs the label hard cash. Cash they’re now cutting from the production budget.”

“That is very unfortunate to hear,” Orion spoke into the ensuing silence. “Is there anything we can do to make them reconsider their actions?”

Ethan’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Good that you’re asking! I already designed a battle plan for us, we won’t have them compromise our work that easily.”

He placed both of his hands on the table where Merula and Everett were sitting, tapping the smooth surface with his fingers. “I’m thinking about going all out on the charm offensive. We’re going to be doing more interviews, more meet ‘n’ greets, fan events, charity bullshit, more of everything. You name it, we’re going to do it. We have to show the public you’re not some off-hook dickheads but still the old friends with a fucking heart of gold like you were when Equinox started.”

Merula snorted derisively. “Nice thought, but I doubt that will impress the guys from the label. You said it yourself, they’re all about the money, they don’t care about this sentimental bullshit.”

“You’re right,” Ethan said, “that’s why I struck a deal with them.”

The way he was avoiding Orion’s eyes was boding ill on Lizzie. And sure enough, Orion’s shoulders were tense as he spoke, his voice noticeably cooler than before. “What kind of deal?”

“They want to know if your new material is worth the huge investment. We need to prove that we’re still the best horse in their stable and they should place their bets on us instead of the new blood they recently signed, like that Winger guy.”

He ran his hand over his dark goatee as he met Orion’s eyes. “Some representatives are going to come to one of the shows in Manchester, see whether what you’re doing is still good enough for their full support.”

He raised his chin in a commanding gesture as he continued. “And they want to see how the crowd reacts to the new songs.”

Lizzie involuntarily held her breath. Orion was particular about his music; Ethan could have just as well asked him to set down his guitar and never touch it again.

And sure enough, his answer to Ethan’s proposition was simple. “No.”

But Ethan wasn’t about to acknowledge defeat so easily. “Yes. If we give the crowd and accordingly the label a taste of what’s to come, they’re going to see that we only deserve the best of the best once we’re ready to hit the studio again.”

Orion, however, remained unimpressed. “No.”

Ethan blinked, clearly irritated at the refusal to cooperate. “Why not?”

“None of the songs are ready to be shared. You don’t serve your guests a half-cooked meal and neither do you hang a picture missing its colours on the wall.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked Ethan straight in the face, the look in his eyes unwavering. “I won’t have my unfinished work being sold for profit; that’s not what this is about.”

Ethan glared at Orion, but instead of a sharp remark from his side, Everett spoke up. “We could play my stuff.”

Clearly surprised at the unexpected offer, Ethan turned his attention to the singer of the band. “You got songs of your own?”

Everett shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure I do. Just promise me they’ll be featured on the album and they’re all yours.”

Hesitant about giving Everett the confirmation he was asking for, Ethan focused on Orion again. “‘No’ is your last word?”

Lizzie had heard some of Everett’s songs before. They weren’t bad by all means, but they were lacking the finesse Orion’s music brought with it. She knew Ethan would take whatever he was offered, but that wouldn’t be in the band’s best interests.

“I know you're protective of your work,” she told Orion quietly, giving him an encouraging smile, “but you showed me what you’ve written so far, and some of the songs are almost there. They’re the best you’ve ever done, believe me. Everyone’s going to love them.”

Orion held her gaze for a moment, searching for the affirmation he needed to agree to a deal he didn’t want to make, but knew he had to in the end.

When he finally tore his eyes away from hers, he looked at Ethan and sighed. “Fine, have my songs. Under one condition,” he added, nipping Ethan’s victorious grin in the bud. “Until I’m completely satisfied with them, I’m going to sing them.”

“Excuse me?” Everett bristled up, “Am I the singer of this band or you? Get out of my fucking spotlight.”

Orion shook his head. “You misunderstand; I’m not trying to fight you for your place in the sun, my friend. But I wouldn’t know how to explain to you what I want the songs to sound like until they’re really finished.”

Ethan snorted. “Stop being a diva, Orion.”

But Orion was adamant in his resolve. “I’m not. All I want is for the people caring about our music to get what they deserve; and they don’t deserve some unfinished songs that aren’t even played the way they’re supposed to be.”

Both Ethan and Orion were staring at each other for a moment longer, before Ethan threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fine, have it your way then.”

Not believing what he was hearing, Everett stood up from his seat. His aggressive energy seemed to fill the room, making it feel a lot smaller than it actually was.

“Are you for real?” he snarled at Ethan. “I’m the frontman of this band, not him! It’s bad enough that his songs are the only ones that get played when mine are easily as good.”

He turned to Orion, eyes sparkling with anger. Lizzie, who was still sitting next to him, tried not to shrink back before him, but Orion met his gaze as calmly as ever. However, this seemed to anger Everett even further.

“You always said you didn’t want to sing, you were perfectly happy with doing background vocals if you had to. Why now all of a sudden? Tell you why, you’re not happy there’s someone else who knows how to write a decent song in this band. Do you consider me a threat to you or what?”

Everett’s voice had risen considerably. Skye and Lizzie were sharing a worried glance as the two male members of their band were glaring at each other, Merula just looking to and fro between them with a bored expression.

Not wanting things to go south even more than they already were, Ethan stepped between Orion and Everett to break their eye contact. “Ev, calm down. There’s no need -”

He was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Taken by surprise, it took Ethan several attempts to make the strain disappear from his voice. He cleared his throat one more time before calling to whoever was waiting on the other side of the door.

“Come in.”

[fanfics-with-coffee]

Crybaby memories Ch. 3

Look at me, posting yet another chapter just a week after chapter 2 instead of months, I’m amazed at myself honestly.

Y/n finally returns to Japan after 10 years to finish her last year of the hero course at UA. But what she didn’t realize was that she would have to meet her old childhood friends and face her past, something she had left in Japan. And can Bakugou really make up for the mistake he regrets the most? Or maybe you’d do best to just forget about the explosive blonde.

Genre: Angst and fluff Pairing: Bakugou x reader Words: 4500~ 

Childhood friends AU

Ch.2 <- -> Ch.4

“Hey, Shinsou, that’s cheating!”

“It’s not cheating if it’s a game mechanic.”

The noise level in the dorm’s living room was rising by the second as the group currently playing finished their last lap on Mario Kart. As Sero passed the finish line in second place, he let his head fall back with a groan. Shinsou sat beside him with a satisfied smile, the switch controller comfortably in his hands. Jirou and Hagakure just took their loss with dignity and grace, congratulating Shinsou on his continued win streak.

“That’s pretty amazing. Five games in a row and not a single loss…” Jirou gave an exhausted smile while putting an arm on the backrest of the couch.

Most of the class had come together to play some Mario Kart to de-stress after the past three weeks of hard work and studying. Y/n had joined them, sitting on one of the “non-player” couches that had formed with glee as she watched her classmates play. What had begun as a friendly game of Mario Kart 8 was now a competition to see who could knock Shinsou from the pedestal he had built from his friends' losses. So far, no one had obviously succeeded and she wasn’t about to try. She’d barely played before and with the tension that had been built, it wasn’t exactly prime time to get her hands on a controller. Yet she had so far been the only one there who hadn’t played.

“Don’t you wanna try playing too, y/n?” Tsuyu leaned over the back of the couch y/n sat on, looking at her before looking back to the screen. At that point, a couple of other people also noticed that she had been sitting on the non-player couch since she had arrived. 

“I’m fine, it’s okay! I mean, I wouldn’t want to embarrass Shinsou like that after he’s been winning.” She teased, playfully sending Shinsou a pitiful glance. He just scoffed, sinking further down in his seat.

“You’re very welcome to try.” He knew she was just messing with him but the challenge was serious. A quiet laugh went around the room, making the competition even more enticing. The silence that came after as the party music played idly in the background was even worse, her classmates were waiting for y/n’s reply. She looked at Shinsou and pursed her lips, crossing her arms tightly.

“Hmmgh… Fine. I will try it, as a matter of fact.” She finally got up from her spot and Hagakure moved up from the player couch, the two exchanged seats and controllers. Y/n felt a hand on her shoulder reassuringly yet the invisible girl giggled a little on passing. She did not, in fact, feel reassured when she sat down. Everyone else got ready themselves, y/n praying that she had understood enough of the game to be able to put up somewhat of a fight.

Once the game counted down from 3, the cheering started once again. Some people were still excited to see Shinsou wipe the floor with the competition but a fair share of the other classmates were cheering on literally anyone other than the purple-haired man. And while Jirou had caught up in a second-place lead, y/n was lagging behind at a meekly 7th place and Sero stayed between being 3rd and 4th. It was kinda embarrassing if you thought about it, but y/n was luckily having a good time either way. Despite having to ask quite a few questions, often involving what had just hit her, the rest of the group was as supportive as ever. Mina had even taken to massaging y/n’s shoulders, pumping her up like a coach to their boxing champion in the ring. 

“Come on y/n! You can do this, loose and limber, loose and limber!” 

“Mina, I am in a car! I cannot be loose!”

“Just be limber then!”

In the end, Shinsou just put another win to his long list of victories as everyone groaned and sighed. Well apart from his supporters, like Denki, who just gave him a high five and cheered. Y/n leaned back in her seat, partially defeated but far from surprised. Despite that, she was smiling, putting her controller in her lap and looking towards the commotion besides her. She watched Jirou and Sero prodding at Shinsou, trying to get the secret to his wins out of him while Kaminari was trying to explain it to them despite him having lost to the guy earlier. But leaning a little forward, she saw someone else in the background, doing something in the kitchen that was situated in the corner. 

Bakugou. 

Her eyes followed him for just a moment, watching him get a glass of water. It hit her that he hadn’t been part of the game night at any point during the evening. Last time she had seen him was in class before he had most likely gone and hid in his room again. She pursed her lips, debating if she should call out to him or let him retreat. But she remembered something.

“Y/n you really suck at this, you’re lucky we didn’t bet anything or you’d go home empty handed!” Bakugou heckled the girl sitting besides him, leaning back against the side of his bed with a shit eating grin. The girl on the other hand was leaning forwards, frowning while her elbows were supported on his knees, the controller still gripped in her hands. His TV was situated on a short dresser, the gaming console placed on the ground in front of them.

“C’mon, once more! I was so close that time!” She said, looking back at him with determined eyes. The blonde boy had been winning all evening but y/n never gave up, she wanted to prove him and his bragging wrong. She always did, whenever he tried to outshine her she bit back, turning it into a near never ending competition. He just examined the girl's face, letting his eyes drift across her lips and big eyes. 

“Fine, one more time. But you really gotta learn this time y/n or you’ll fall behind again.”

Maybe, if anyone, Bakugou could knock down the reigning emperor of Mario Kart and free the people from his tyrannical grasp of the racing scene.

Bakugou had already filled his glass with water and drank it too by the time y/n decided to interrupt his evening. He placed the glass in the washing machine and turned around, giving the group of people a look as he’s about to head back up the stairs. But as he does, watching the scene unfold, he makes eye contact with the girl who has been shamelessly staring at him. He froze and suddenly a feeling of dread worked it’s way up his chest, a grin forming on the girls lips.

“Hey Bakugou!” The room went silent as y/n raised her voice to call out to the man on the other side of the dorm. People’s heads turned, confused but intrigued by why she had called out to him. “Come play with us.” She said simply, and yet the smile that was supposed to be innocent felt more malevolent than anything. If you had asked Bakugou.

The room waited for his answer with held breaths, she knew she had put him on the spot. She was enjoying the tough situation she had created but she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t genuinely think that he might be the one who could win at least one game against Shinsou. He, on the other hand, felt his heart race. Not because she had asked, but because he wasn’t prepared. He had made it clear from when they first even started these game nights that he wasn’t going to take part. He had been baited into it once or twice but he had never made it a regular occurance and never when they asked him to play. He simply had more important things to get done rather than waste his time on shit that wouldn’t get him anywhere in the long run. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

“No.” He replied just as simply as she had asked, causing Shinsou to chuckle and flick through the game menus since he hadn’t believed that Bakugou would play from the beginning. But apparently the rest of the class wasn’t as quick to accept his answer, having caught on to y/n’s intentions.

“Come one, Bakugou! Just this once!” Kirishima was already halfway across the distance between the kitchen and the couch, clearly about to try and drag Bakugou with him. But the explosive blonde wouldn’t have any of it, getting ready to either smack his hands away or literally run back to his dorm room, you could see it in the way he placed his feet and furrowed his brows.

“You really think I’m going to sit here and listen to every idiot down here screaming over a fucking game? Hell no! You all sound like children!” He said loudly, dodging a grip from Kirishima with an easy side step, turning his body to now angrily walk away.

“Doesn’t he usually screm the most though?” Kaminari looked to the rest of the class with a confused face, not minding that Bakugou wouldn’t play. He was happily supporting Shinsou and his victory run ever since declaring himself manager over “team purple”. But everyone else ignored him, knowing they had to come up with something good to make Bakugou stay. Sero thought the quickest.

“We need you to win!” He yelled, climbing up to his knees and leaning over the back of the couch to try and make his voice reach Bakugou before he left. That seemed to make him stop but not turn around. Only his head twitches to the side to hear a little better. Luckily Midoriya followed Sero’s train of thoughts and also spoke up.

“It’s true! We’ve all tried and failed, you know? Shinsou has been crushing us all, you’re probably the only one who can win by now.” He had also stood up, riling up the rest of the class as they called out for somebody to help them. Bakugou thought about it for a second before turning around to look at the group, his arms crossed over his chest as it often was when he was undecided or unwilling. Midoriya looked at y/n who had started this whole thing, grabbing her arm gently but with urgency. She knew that she had to join in and rose from her seat, standing besides the other hero.

“We can’t do it, Bakugou! He’s just too good. I’ve only seen one other player who had been at his level and it’s… you!” She said with emphasis, looking him dead in the eyes. It was so overdramatic it almost hurt but that was kind of the point right now. And apparently it worked, Bakugou sighed and rolled his eyes but let his arms fall to his side. The soft sounds of his steps coming closer made everyone cheer and raise their arms.

“Holy crap, you guys really are losers. It’s just a fucking game. I’ll play once, but only to beat Shinsou and make you guy’s shut the hell up. Once I do, I’m leaving and I expect to not be disrupted ever again for this stupid shit.” He was swearing like a sailor, begrudgingly squeezing in between the couch and the table, grabbing the controller from Jirou who had stood up to switch. She passed by y/n and sat down on one of the empty cushion seats next to the couches, happy to finally get to watch others lose instead of losing.

Y/n hadn’t thought about the fact that Bakugou might sit next to her until he actually sat down in between her and Sero. Her eyes widened just a little and her breath got stuck in her throat when she felt his thigh pressing against hers, pushing her more into the corner as he got comfortable. And when he leaned back, his naked arm brushed roughly against her own before she shuffled into the corner even more. She really shouldn’t have reacted as strongly as she did, it wasn’t exactly weird to sit like this and she was almost just as close with Jirou. Yet the warmth he radiated made her own cheeks heat up if just slightly. She needed to get out of that situation before her embarrassment got any worse.

“Hey does anyone else wanna play, by the way? I’m fine with just watching again.” She stood up, trying to be casual as she held the controller in one hand and looked around to see if someone was about to change place with her. But before anyone could even open their mouth, a hand had already grabbed her arm and was pulling her back down on the couch.

“Oi, don’t you dare force me to play this dumb game and then just fucking leave. You’re playing too, dumbass.” Bakugou was absolutely blaming y/n for having called out to him and wasn’t about to let her get off the hook just because she didn’t want to play anymore. Not that he fully realized what he was doing to her right now, he was more focused on getting this done and over with. 

Y/n gasped as she was pulled back down on the comfy couch, the seat easily catching her. And despite the fact that Bakugou had been a little rough in saying it, people seemed to agree that she should play a little more since she had barely gotten the chance to. So with a “grateful” smile, she settled into her seat once more as Shinsou picked a couple tracks to play and started a cup.

The track appeared on screen, the countdown heard loud and clear in the now quiet room. Bakugou leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, giving the screen his undivided attention. Y/n did something similar, putting her feet down on the ground as if it would help her keep her balance in game. Sero had relaxed a little, not too worried about winning or losing. Right now it wasn’t a competition against every other player, it was a team battle. 3 vs 1. And he had Bakugou on his side.

The signal went off and the cars sped away on the track, Shinsou taking the lead of the pack. But just as y/n had expected, Bakugou was right behind him. Herself, on the other hand, had missed the shot at the speed boost and was right now battling against the CPU’s who were surrounding her. Sero was at least making some space between him and the clung of people crashing their cars together at the start. 

It didn’t take long before people noticed that Bakugou actually could have a chance at this. Most had been at least a little uncertain about his abilities as a Mario kart racer, they hadn’t seen him play basically anything. But y/n knew that racing games had been his favourite game to play whenever she came over, often blabbering on and on about all the secrets he knew about whatever new or old game he had decided they were going to compete in that day. And after almost every new thing he told her excitedly, he asked “did ya know that? Betcha didn’t.” he had always been so proud. So now when he was faced with a challenge, y/n sitting next to him, he had to prove how right he was and always had been. 

“HEY, who the hell left a banana peel right on the landing ramp?!”

Shinsou snickered at the outburst, obviously amused that his scheme had worked but he had been a lot less casual during this second, going on third lap around the track. He had absolutely been one of the people who had doubted the blondes abilities but as soon as he realized he wasn’t up against any ordinary casual player, he had upped his focus. It did manage to keep him in lead, if just barely. He had once or twice dipped into second place but Bakugou never kept that first place spot for more than a couple seconds. 

“Y/n you don’t need to use all your mushrooms at once, you know?” Mina was still standing behind her friend, watching the match and between being entranced by the fight for the first spot, she kept an eye on her playing. 

“What? Why?!” Y/n exclaimed, unable to even spare a confused look to her.

“You won’t go any faster, save them for when you need them!” She not so eloquently explained, grabbing the back of the couch.

“I won’t?!”

Red eyes darted away from his square of the screen, looking at the girl's corner. The shock of the conversation had pulled him from his focus and forced him to react.

“Have you been using all your fucking mushrooms at once?! Are you dumb or something, space them out!” Bakugou shouted, mildly angered by the loose use of items. 

“Well I didn’t know that!”

“It’s basic Mario Kart knowledge!”

“You’re basic Mario Kart knowledge!” Was the only thing y/n could retort with, a laugh chasing after her sentence as her brain caught up with the obscure nature of the argument. And that seemed to loosen the tension that had built in the room, as much as Bakugou’s face had turned even more sour, she could feel his tensed thighs relax against hers. 

“Wait, where the hell am I?” In her loud discussion about the proper use of mushrooms, she had managed to take a wrong turn and ended up on a road she hadn’t seen before. Shinsou and Bakugou had been liberarily using the shortcuts that the track allowed but to y/n, these were unknown territory and she had gotten stuck in a corner somewhere unknown. She turned and twisted to no avail, the Lakitu floating down to tell her she needed to do a U-turn. To where? She didn’t know. “Uh oh, where the fuck do I go?!”

“Y/n, you're in a shortcut, how’d you even get in there?” Sero noticed her predicament, trying to sound calm as his eyes flickered between his own screen and hers.

“I dunno, suddenly I’m just stuck and this little turtle guy just keeps telling me I’m going the wrong way!” 

“Okay, well calm down. You should just need to turn righ– no wait lef–!” Sero didn’t even get to finish his sentence until Bakugou moved his hand.

“It’s fucking obvious you need to take a right here and then just follow the damn road!” His left hand moved from his own controller, suddenly enveloping y/n’s hands as he placed his thumb over hers, steering her car for her. He didn’t even look at her as he did it, just stared at the screen. Y/n snapped her head to look at his, shocked and embarrassed. Had her mouth not already been open, it would have fallen open once his hand was over hers. 

His thumb gently but adamantly pushed hers in the right direction, all she had to do was hold in the gas button and within seconds she was on track again. And as soon as his hand had moved there, it was gone again. Her hands suddenly felt cold as the cool air hit them. 

What was this? The third time he had touched her hand with his. It wasn’t a big deal, it wasn’t even often that it happened. But why did the feeling keep lingering in her mind every time, her heart raced whenever she thought about it and his face appeared in her head. 

She couldn’t think about it too much before her focus needed to be pulled back to the game. 

“Oh uh, thanks.” Her volume had gone down significantly, she was even unsure if Bakugou could hear her above the music and sounds of the game. She kinda hoped he didn’t, she kinda hoped nobody even noticed what had just happened just to make sure nobody ever brought it up again. 

But somebody did notice. At the end of the second non-player couch Kirishima had seen the whole thing, a wide smile forming on his face as it started to click in his head what may or may not be happening. 

Bakugou had sacrificed just a couple seconds of full speed to help y/n, which he was paying for during the final half of the last lap. People were at the edge of their seats, their eyes glued to the television. Sero was only a couple seconds behind Bakugou and y/n was still fighting for a top 50% ranking. She refused to give up though, no matter how little of a shot she had at even making it top 5. 

Her car crashed through another mystery box. She kept her eyes intently on her item slot, watching as it randomized, praying that she would get something more useful than a banana peel. And there it was, neatly displayed in her corner.

A blue shell.

Her heart skipped a beat, her hands gripping her controller.

“Holy crap…” She whispered to herself but the tone of her voice caught Bakugou’s attention and he looked at what she was reacting to. 

“Throw it, y/n!” 

He didn’t have to tell her twice, she pressed the button and watched as it raced away towards the first place holder. Shinsou had barely realized what was happening until he saw it go just off screen for y/n. The other students were once again in an uproar, the laughter and cheers over the top but the whole scenario had riled them up to an unnecceracy degree.

Bakugou kept his place, making sure that when the shell hit Shinsou he could pass him and take the first place. Sero even took to driving closer to the rim to make sure it didn’t hit him instead. And just as he did, the shell passed by his screen, once again earning a wave of excitement from the crowd. Finally, it came into view on Bakugou’s screen.

And half a second later it hit Shinsou.

“Shit!” 

The finish line was in their viewt at this point. Bakugou swiftly took the first place as Shinsou’s car spun. He only managed to stop spinning on the track in time to see the other male cross the finish line. 

People had stood up to cheer, Kirishima and Midoriya putting their arms over each other's shoulders to jump up and down. Uraraka along with Momo, Jirou and Tsuyu had all raised their arms on the couch, doing the wave while laughing. Mina even hugged y/n from behind, even though she hadn’t even finished the race. Only Kaminari and Shinsou didn’t become overjoyed at the new winner, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

Shinsou got an amicable second place and Sero came in third. Y/n was happy she did manage to get 5th place at the end of it. To her, that was basically at least a second place and celebrated it as such. She had been the one to make sure Bakugou could win after all.

“Honestly, I feel like that was kinda cheating, you guys were all ganging up on me.” Shinsou sighed, leaning back on the couch once again but in a much more defeated manner. 

“Well you know, Shinsou…” Sero let a smug smile creep across his face. “It’s not cheating… if it’s a game mechanic.” 

Shinsou looked at him, expressionless for a second as he tried to come up with a reply. But once he realized he couldn’t beat his own words, he just let the win go, joining in on the laughing instead. After all, it was just a game.

“Told ya’ll you guys were just losers! This is why I don’t even play with you extras, I win too easily.” Bakugou was sporting a cocky grin, putting his hands behind his head in a casual manner and leaning back. And while some of the others might just give him a cheeky comment on his ego every once in a while, they decided to let him have it this once. He had been their saviour after all.

“So you’re… not going to stay and play another game?” Y/n asked him, willfully putting on an innocent act to maybe tempt him into playing another game. She gathered her courage and even leaned a little closer to him, her arm pressing against his side since he still had his arms up. She was basically tucked under his arm as he was frozen in place at the contact. But y/n was convincing herself that she was just teasing him, she would do this to any of her classmates… at least she says so herself.

Bakugou looked at her big eyes and pouting lips, a little surprised that she had even asked. He remembered his words in the beginning, saying he was going to leave once he had helped them. But he had to admit, though he was strongly opposed to being wrong, that it had been kind of fun. He loved his racing games and it was nice having everyone cheer him on like that. Plus, he hadn’t had the chance to play Mario Kart 8 as much as he had wanted but he still knew a couple tricks he could show off to the others.

“...Fine. One more time, but you gotta pay attention to what I teach you or else I’m leaving. I’m not about to waste my time if you’re not going to listen.”

“Fine, one more time. But you really gotta learn this time y/n or you’ll fall behind again.”

“Hey, I thought I was her manager!” Mina looked offended, putting one hand on her chest and the other on y/n’s shoulder, pulling her away from Bakugou to make a point. Even Kirishima came up to listen in on the conversation, having totally been ready to help y/n convince Bakugou to play another round. 

“Oh shut up, as if you could beat me in Mario Kart, I’m obviously her best choice as a mana– Wait, what the hell do you mean manager?! Why do any of you even have managers, it’s just a dumb game!” Bakugou had caught himself even just entertaining the thought of being y/n’s manager and got frustrated, waving his hand around. First motioning to y/n and Mina and then Denki and Shinsou who had started talking tactics between each other.

Mina was about to retort but Kirishima stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder and not so subtly bringing his head closer to hers. He covered his mouth and whispered something to Mina with a smile. She was nodding along all the while both y/n and Bakugou were turned to look at them standing behind the couch. But soon the pinkette smiled and looked to Kirishima, nodding her head. 

“Alright Bakugou, you drive a hard bargain. I’ll step down as y/n’s manager but only if she comes with us to the arcade tomorrow.” She crosses her arms as if it was her final offer in a million dollar deal.

“WHY ARE YOU EVEN OFFERING ME THAT?! I CAN’T MAKE HER COME WITH US– A-AND I DON’T EVEN WANT TO BE HER DAMN MANAGER EITHER!” Bakugou looked like he was about to climb over the back of the couch any second now and strangle her, but she stood her ground.

“The arcade?”– y/n asked, surprised by the invitation– “Well sure, why not! I’ll come. If Bakugou plays another round.”

“I ALREADY FUCKING SAID I WILL, DO NONE OF YOU LISTEN TO ME?!”

[puckinginsane]

What Am I?

Jamie Benn one shot

Warningsish : Smuttyish language. A curse? I think just one. 

Words : 7.8K 

I really hope y’all like it. I worked really hard on this.

🎵 Tell me, have you seen a sunset Turn into a sunrise? Kiss right through the night? 'Cause we should try that sometime Hold you 'til the mornin' And if I said I'm fallin' Would you just reply "I know you are, but what am I?"🎵

I usually don't go to bars or clubs with the intent of picking up a guy. Sometimes it happens, but most of the time I'm there to have a good time with my friends and get a little tipsy. Not tonight. Tonight I am here to get drunk and to get laid. It's one of those nights where the only way I'm going to escape life for a while is to get hammered and make bad decisions. Lately life has given me one punch in the gut after the other so I need a win.

I've already spotted my target. I've been watching him on and off for the last 45 minutes. He's tall, tatted, handsome. Built like an ox but hasn't said much all night. The guys he's with have all the energy and he's the observer. We've locked eyes a few times throughout the night but he'd always just look away. I'm not sure it's me he even saw. It's a bit busy in here tonight.

I watch as his friends try to convince him to go to the club with them but he insists they go on without him. He's nursing the rest of his beer so if I'm going to make a move it's gotta be now. I push any thoughts of doubt out of my mind. I need to just go for it. No more waiting for something to happen. If I want it to happen I’m going to have to make it happen myself. And what I want is for him to take me home and make me forget all of my problems, something I thought the alcohol was going to do but it’s done a shitty job so far.

I sit on the open stool next to him and lean on my elbow on the bar. "You should have gone with them. They look like fun."

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, intensity in his eyes, then just looks down at the bar and shakes his head. "I'm not interested in the fun they're looking for tonight."

I inch closer to him. "What kind of fun are you looking for? I'm looking for some fun myself." I place my hand delicately on his forearm, not sure of how he's going to react to it. He flexes under my touch but doesn't pull away. "Some anonymous fun just for tonight. To escape life for a while." I give him my best I want to fuck you eyes and hope he feels the same way about me. 

"I'm looking for the kind where I finish this beer and head home."

"That doesn't sound very fun at all, unless you're taking me with you."

"That is the fun I'm trying to avoid."

"Shame." I drink the last bit of my drink and call the bartender over. I'm not going to be taking no for an answer tonight and he's the one I want, I need, to take my mind off of everything. I order us a few rounds of shots. "You need something stronger." I hope he doesn't reject me. My experience with men is that most of the time they can't resist shots with an attractive woman, no matter how hard they want to fight it. 

To my surprise, he picks up the shot glass and looks me dead in the eyes as he takes it. Suddenly it's about fifty degrees hotter in here and I think you could hear my heart beating from across the bar. "Aren't you going to have yours?" He has a cheeky tone in his voice, knowing that my panties have disintegrated into nothing simply by the way he's looking at me.

I almost forgot. I can barely remember my own name as he continues to look at me with those eyes. "Of course." I take my shot while keeping eye contact with him, the same as he did with me. "Another?"

"Why do you want to escape so badly?"

"Rough week, month, year. I just wanna feel good tonight, for once." Does he really want to know? I want to skip the life stories and get right to being naked. 

He picks up a shot glass and hands it to me before picking one up for himself. "I hear that."

We do a few more shots and I'm trying to study him, but I can't get a read on him. I can't tell if this is going somewhere or if he just wants to get drunk with me and leave. He's not exactly flirting, but he's not rejecting my advances either. He's a bit mysterious how he sits there not saying much with his mouth, but saying everything with his eyes. He needs this as much as I do, whatever this turns out to be. I can tell.

“We can continue to do this or we can get out of here for some fun. I know you want fun. Why deny yourself? Let’s get out of here.”

He stares me down, pursing his lips together. Is he actually thinking or does he just want to watch me squirm? “One more drink then I’ll get us an Uber.”

“You’re serious?” I was almost expecting for him to turn me down again.

“I’m serious. You wore me down.”

“Don’t act like I’m forcing you.”

“You are.” The ends of his mouth curl up into a smirk.

He wants to act all innocent but he’s got a bad side to him and it comes through more and more as the night goes on. He’s not fooling me. We each have one more drink before closing out the tab and heading outside to wait for our Uber. I am still surprised that we are about to go back to his place. I’m not nervous. I thought I’d be nervous. I look up at him and he’s staring at his phone, jaw clenched. I can’t help thinking about all of the things I want to do with him. I can’t wait to kiss those pillowy lips of his. 

He leans in close to talk to me. “He’s almost here.” He awkwardly places his hand on my back, almost wrapping his arm around me but changing his mind halfway through. I feel him relax a few seconds later. The last thing I want is for him to feel awkward around me. The whole point of leaving together is to feel good and have some meaningless sex.

When we get in the car I lean up against him and to my surprise he doesn’t tense up when I do. It’s nice. The one thing I notice is that he is so warm. He must be nice to snuggle up against on a cold day. That is something I definitely should not be thinking about right now. This is going to be a one night stand. Anonymous sex. One and done. A no sleepover situation. The walk of shame. All of those cliché phrases that means I will never see him or think about him again.

The ride is quiet, but not awkward. The alcohol is really starting to hit me, now that we’ve left the bar. I can feel myself smiling like a dopey idiot. I’ve accomplished what I set out to do tonight. I just hope it’s worth it. I hope that it does help me escape the way I need it to.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he mutters in my ear, sending chills down my spine, making me wish this guy would drive 50 miles per hour faster than he is right now.

“I’m good. You good?”

“I’m great.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Good.” 

For some reason this doesn’t feel like I’m about to go home with some random guy and have sloppy drunk sex. My limited experience has been that we are all over each other from the bar to wherever we’re going. Kissing, touching, flirting. There’s really been none of that here. I wonder if I’m making a mistake, that I was too eager, that I’m going to be left wanting more.

I quickly learn that not only are we not on the same page, but that he’s also full of surprises when the car pulls up to Top Golf and stops, not his house, where I thought we were going. We get out of the car. I can’t believe I thought he was taking me home with him. I should have known. I should have listened to my instincts. Maybe I should have been more specific.

“You know this isn’t the kind of fun I was talking about, right?”

“It’s not?”

I have no idea if he’s being serious or if he’s messing with me. “No. It’s not.”

“Oops. We might as well go in, we’re here.”

“This is really what you want to do?”

“You want fun. This is fun.”

“If you say so.”

He places both hands on my shoulders. “I promise you’ll have a good time.”

"Allriiiiiight. I'm counting on you."

"Mini golf or driving range?"

I can't believe he's serious. "I'm feeling adventurous tonight so driving range. I've never done it before."

He grins. "This should be interesting."

We head inside, choose a bay, order drinks and food, and get started on whatever is happening right now. At this point I'm just going with the flow.

He sits down in front of the scoring screen. "We have to put our names in for the scoring. What's yours? I'll put them in."

"This is supposed to be anonymous fun."

He rolls his eyes. "Fine. Nicknames?"

"Perfect."

"What should I put for you?"

"My friends call me Bunny."

"That's cute. Bunny it is."

I watch as he enters my name, then his. "Why are you Chubbs?"

"Just a nickname that stuck. Why are you Bunny?"

"Because I have endless energy. I go go go."

He raises an eyebrow and looks back over his shoulder at me. "Not other reasons?"

I smile. “There might be.”

He smirks before standing up. “The clubs are over there. We each are going to get ten turns to hit the targets. The harder the target, the more points you get.”

“Wait. Hold up. I thought I was just gonna be hitting a bunch of balls. There’s points involved?”

“Yeah. It’s a game. It’s just for fun, though.”

“Alright.”

“You take your club, wave it over here like this, and a ball will pop out.” He shrugs. “Then you just hit it. Don’t let go of the club, though.”

“I won’t. What do you think I am?”

He gets all in my face. “Drunk.” He belly laughs and I can’t help laughing too. “Do you want me to show you how to hold the club, how to swing well?”

“As tempting as that offer is I think I can handle it. Thank you.” I start to step up to take my turn, but then look back at him. “If you get that close to me, touch me, then golf is the last thing I’m going to want to do.”

"Don't you wanna go hard and deep, though?" Putting purposeful emphasis on hard and deep, obviously to drive me crazy..

Unexpected. I almost drop my club “Ok, yeah, let’s just get out of here.”

“Go. Hit the ball. It’ll make you feel better.”

He's actually torturing me now. And enjoying it. How can he flirt like that and act like it's nothing? I normally hate games, but I like this game he's playing. One look from him and I am a puddle of goo. Each word out of his mouth is carefully selected and has a purpose. He knows exactly what he's doing and it only makes me want him more.

The waitress comes over and drops off our drinks and food so I take a long sip of my drink before going back to the tee to take my shot. I try to focus on the ball as I can feel his eyes burning a hole in me. I don’t dare look at him because I will lose my concentration. I’ve only ever played mini golf and never actually driven a ball before so this should be interesting. I will be happy with any kind of contact with the ball.

I’ve seen this done a billion times, ok maybe not that much, but enough for it not to be impossible to do. Sure, I’m feeling a little loose but it’s not like I’m trying to perform brain surgery. All I have to do is hit the ball out there somewhere. I grip the club the way I think I should and I swing back and hit the ball. It is not graceful and I barely touch it and the ball weakly goes off to the side. How embarrassing.

He stands up and walks towards me. "What was that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Not everyone can be professional golfers like you apparently are."

"I'm not, but my two year old niece has a better swing than that."

"I'm in heels and I'm drunk."

"Excuses. I’m drunk too."

"I don't know you well enough to have to take this abuse from you, you know."

"You should take your heels off "

"If you wanted me to get undressed, you should have just taken me back to your place."

“It’ll be way easier but go ahead and be stubborn if you want.”

I take my heels off and my feet feel a hundred percent better. I also feel significantly shorter standing in front of him now. "Now I can be Tiger Woods."

He laughs. "I wouldn't go that far. At least better than a two year old I hope."

“Let’s see what you got, Chubbs.” I sit down and lean back on the couch and watch as he grabs a club and steps up to the machine. He is one beautiful sight of a man. 

“Watch closely.”

“Believe me, I am, there is nothing that could make me take my eyes off of you.”

He bashfully smiles and looks at the ground before moving his ball to where he wants it. He explains to me how and why he grips the club the way that he is, tells me the proper way to swing the club, what to do with my hips, everything I need to know to do better in my next turn. He hits the ball and looks way more graceful than I did. There’s a satisfying tink sound when the club hits the ball. It lands close to the target but doesn’t hit it. He mutters under his breath at himself. How could he be angry at that? To me it looked perfect. He turns towards me. “You think you got it now?” 

“I think so.”

I feel a lot more sturdy without my heels on. I am feeling more confident in myself this time. I am going to crush this ball. I try to remember everything he was saying to me but it was hard to concentrate on the words when there are so many other things to focus on. His perfectly kissable lips, those dark brown eyes that I just can't get enough of, the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man or a woman. I could go on. I take a swing and this time I can feel the contact with the ball. It goes flying and I jump up and down. "I did it! I did it!" I could not be more proud of myself.

He darts up from the chair. "That was great! Way to go, Bunny!" He holds his hand up for a high five and I smack it. "Felt good, didn't it?" He hugs me.

"Felt really good." I look up at him smiling and he's looking down at me. "This feels good too."

He smiles and licks his lower lip. "You're gonna be harder competition than I thought."

“You said it’s just for fun.”

“Mhmm. Winning is fun.” He nudges me a few times with the cutest smile on his face. I can’t help giggling. I love that he’s starting to let go and be happy. He looked so sad in the bar and here he seems to be in his element.

I pick up the menu. “I’m going to order myself a drink. Want one?”

“Don’t you think you should go easy on the drinks?”

“I’ll be fiiiiiine. It’ll just be one. Maybe two. Want one? Oh my god orange dream sounds amazing. I’m ordering two and you can have one if you want.”

He grins. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay for them.”

“Nonsense. Order whatever you want. I got it.”

“You sure? I don’t mind. I’m not trying to play games or anything.”

“I’m sure. I wanted to come here and I’d never let a woman pay. It was nice of you to offer, though.”

“Ok. If you change your mind let me know.”

He steps up to his ball and hits it so, so far. “I won’t.” He smiles. “Your turn.”

I get up and grab my club. "If the waitress comes by can you order those two orange dreams for me?"

"Yeah. I can. Still think you should go easy."

"They water the drinks down at these places. I'll be fine. It's cute that you're so worried, though.”

“You’re cute.” He says it low and bashful and has made himself blush, but he has the most adorable smile on his face that he couldn’t fight even though he is trying his hardest.

I think I’m blushing too. I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn’t sure he was even into me. “Thanks.” I can’t fight this dumb smile on my face either. He’s got me all flustered now. The first time I swing at the ball I miss it entirely. “Fuck!” I look back to see that he’s busy ordering from the waitress and didn’t see my epic fail so I play it off and go again like it was my first time. I try to concentrate on the ball but I can’t help looking back and watching him. He’s so damn attractive that it hurts not to be close to him. I actually connect with my second attempt and I actually hit one of the targets. I wasn’t even trying. “I hit it! Did you see? I hit the target!”

He looks up on the screen and sees the score. “Sweet! I saw! I ordered drinks and some more food. Are you cool with nachos and chips and guac?”

“I am very ok with those things. Thank you.”

He walks very close to me on the way to take his shot and stops while he’s right next to me and leans down. “I saw you miss, by the way.” 

“Maybe I need you to show me how to swing after all.”

“I thought you couldn’t handle it.” He’s still talking directly into my ear, which is making me weak in the knees.

“I want it anyway.”

“Too bad it’s my turn.” He leans against me for a second before walking away. I watch that perfect ass walk all the way to the tee. I’ve decided that watching him play is way more fun than getting up there and making a fool out of myself every time.

I step up to take my turn. “I’d like that help now, if you’re still offering.”

He smiles. “Yeah, I’m still offering.” He starts to position himself behind me and just as he is about to get right up against me and hold onto my hands his phone rings. He mutters several curses under his breath and steps back. “It’s my brother. I gotta take this. I won’t be long. Just go ahead and take your turn.”

I sigh. Of course his brother would call. He was close enough for me to feel the heat off of his body and the anticipation of his hands on me has gotten my heart racing. I don’t want to go. I want to wait, but I don’t want to seem desperate so I take my turn and it’s ok. I am not going to be a golf master any time soon.

He ends his phone call rather quickly, but not before our food and drinks get brought to us. I sit down and wait for him to join me before digging in. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. Family's important."

He nods. "Yeah. Very."

"Is….. everything ok?"

"Yup. He just got out of work and wanted to talk. I'll catch up with him later."

"Or tomorrow."

He blushes. "We'll see."

We eat our food and have our drinks before he takes his next shot. For this being an anonymous night we sure are learning a lot about each other and having great conversation. No names, though, we have both agreed that it would be more fun that way. We are going to stick with Bunny and Chubbs. I am having one of the best nights of my life. This has been so unexpected and fun and taking my mind off of everything that’s been getting me down lately. Chubbs might just be my new hero.

“I was wrong about those drinks, they were not as watered down as I thought they’d be. I’m cool, though. Ice cold.”

He chuckles. “Is that so?”

“It’s soooo so.”

“Alright then, ice queen, I believe it’s my turn.”

“Kick that ball’s ass, Chubbs!”

“I will. Just for you, Bunny.”

I get all giddy when he says my name, well, my nickname. I’ll never look at it the same way again. My friends call me it as a goof almost, but to him that’s who I am. I didn’t think I could have this much fun with a stranger. Talking with him at the bar, I would have never thought this is how my night would end up. I really thought I was going to be leaving alone. He has a cocky swagger as he walks up to take his turn. He looks back at me before he goes, perhaps to make sure that I’m watching him.

I never thought I would ever have this much fun doing anything golf related. I am going to have to come back here with my friends. Chubbs and I continue on with our game and of course he gets more points than me. That was never a question. Golf is obviously something he loves and this was my first time and it doesn’t help that I’m drunk. I wonder if I would do any better while sober. I’ll have to find out at some point.

As our number of rounds start to wind down I start to wonder what comes next. I want to keep hanging out with him. My initial intentions are still there, maybe even stronger than before. I wonder if he will want to continue the night or just go home. We have been flirting the whole time, but I still can’t get a great read on him when it comes to his intentions.

He shakes my hand. “Good game.” He looks at the floor and then all around. “There’s other things we can do here if you want.” 

I smile. He wants to keep hanging out, that’s a good sign. I really want to get him alone, though. “Did you wanna get out of here? We can go to my place or your place...if that’s something you want to do.”

“Your place is good.”

My whole face lights up. I was kind of expecting him to turn me down. “It is?”

“Yeah.” 

I immediately take my phone out and open Uber to get us a ride to my place. “We should wait outside.”

“In a hurry?” he asks in that asmused at himself tone that I’ve gotten used to. He loves to tease. It’s annoying how much I like it.

“Maybe a little.” I start to walk away.

“You’re gonna leave your shoes here?”

I stop and turn around. He has the biggest grin on his face. I am so happy I amuse him so much. “Oops.” I put them back on. “Now we can go.” He is close behind me, not touching, but close enough that it feels like he is.

It feels as if life is going in slow motion as I watch the little car on the Uber app inch through the map on its way to us. I wasn’t sure this moment was actually going to happen and I really don’t want to give him time to change his mind. No matter what happens when we get to my place doesn’t matter anymore. I just don’t want this night to end. I’m not ready to say goodbye forever to him just yet.

“You’re impatient.” I can hear the amusement in his voice as he looks over my shoulder at my screen.

“I always watch the map.”

“You like to be in control.”

I shrug. “Depends.”

He leans in close. “I do.”

I feel that in all of the right places and it takes everything in me not to jump on him right here and now. “Where is this fucking car?” 

He points at my screen. “Right there.” I look at him in almost disbelief. Who is this man and why is he drawing me in like this? His shoulders shake as he chuckles to himself.

I bite my lower lip. He’s charming without even trying. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone so badly in my entire life. The car pulls up in front of us. “And here it is.”

The vibe in this Uber is way different than the vibe in the Uber on the way here. I can tell he wants me. His body language is the polar opposite. On the way here he was so tense and standoffish, now he is more relaxed and he couldn’t be closer to me. Our legs rub up against each other and I smile. Any contact with him sends electricity through my veins. He very confidently places his hand on my thigh and leaves it there. He wouldn't dare think about touching me on the way here. I rub his hand with mine, then move it back to my lap.

I continue to watch the map as we get on our way, purely out of habit. “Should be there in about fifteen minutes,” I mutter to him, as if I don’t want the driver to hear me. I have no idea why. It’s not like he doesn’t know. I rest my head on his arm. I guess I’m feeling more comfortable too, no longer worried about scaring him away. He agreed to come home with me and we both know where this is headed. I feel the weight of his head on mine and can't help smiling. It's been entirely too long since I've been this close to anyone. It feels nice. It doesn't matter that I don't know his name, this is exactly what I needed.

When we get up to my door I have a bit of a difficult time finding my keys in my purse. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face as I continue to struggle. I finally grab them and fumble with them as I try to get my key in the lock.

He chuckles. “Are you sure you live here?”

“Yes I live here. I’m just…” I finally get the key in the keyhole.

“Drunk.”

“I got it in, didn’t I?” I open the door and we step in. “Here we are.”

He looks around. “This is nice. Bigger than I thought it would be.”

“It’s a great space. I lucked out on getting it. There were a few people interested. Do you want the grand tour?”

“Sure.”

I take him all around my place, unsure if he actually wants to know about any of this stuff. I walk through as fast as I can so I don’t bore him to death. Of course I save my bedroom for the end of the tour, that’s the most important room.

"This is my bedroom, ya know, where the magic happens."

"Magic, eh? Full of yourself."

"I practice my card tricks in here. What are youuuuu referring to?"

"You can do card tricks? Show me."

I laugh entirely too hard. Of course he called me on my bluff. "I can't! I don't know any." I go into a fit of giggles. “I was just joking. Ever hear of one?”

He smiles. "You're so drunk."

"Takes one to know one, bud." I poke his chest and he watches my finger as I do it. “Besides, I’m not that drunk anymore.”

“Still pretty drunk.”

“I blame all of those extra Top Golf drinks.”

“You mean the ones I told you to go easy on?”

“Mhmm. Yup. Those would be the ones.”

He takes a quick look around. “Cozy.”

“Maybe you’ll find out just how cozy later.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Later?”

“Yeah, I saved the best for last. Wanna see the roof?”

“You’re not going to push me off, are you?”

I laugh. “Nah. Too messy.”

The rooftop terrace is the main reason why I bought this condo. Situations like this is why I wanted a rooftop terrace. I bring a good looking guy home and get to say the line, wanna go up to the roof? And the roof is actually the best part of the whole place. It’s private, cozy, romantic, and all mine. I keep telling myself I am going to start a garden up here, but it’s probably never going to happen.

“I only moved in a month ago so I haven’t finished decorating up here.” Right now all I have is seating and a few tables. Some are single seats and some can seat two or more people.

“You should put an outdoor chess table over there.”

“A chess table? On no. You’re a nerd, aren’t you? I brought a nerd home with me. What have I done? How did this happen?”

"Takes one to know one." He smiles, so proud of himself.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny. A game isn’t a bad idea, but not chess.” We sit down on one of the couches. For outdoor furniture, it is pretty comfortable.

“This is pretty nice. Do you spend a lot of time up here?”

“Yeah, most of my time. I love being outside and I could do a lot of things on my iPad. I want to get a fire pit, I just haven’t decided on which one yet. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“If you can’t have a backyard this is the next best thing, for sure.”

"Yeah. I want a house eventually, but this will do for now. I love it."

Something in the corner catches his eye and I follow his eyes to try to figure out what he's so fascinated with. "What's in there?"

I finally realize he's looking at the cabinet. "Oh! Come with me. I'll show you." I love showing off everything I've bought for up here. I think my friends are a little sick of it so I'm glad I have someone new to show. I open the cabinet to reveal all of the goodies I have stored in there. "I may have gone a little crazy. There's the hammock. I don't like to have it out all of the time since it takes up so much room. I have extra blankets and pillows for when I wanna get snuggled up out here so I don't have to go back inside to get any."

"Smart."

"Thank you. I have these little heaters for when it gets cold, and I plan to get one of those tall ones eventually. A broom and some other boring stuff and that's about it."

"Looks like you're prepared for any situation."

"I try to be. It's also a bit of laziness because once I'm out here I don't want to have to go in and out to get stuff."

"And yet you don't have a fridge or cooler out here."

"It's a work in progress. It's on the list, believe me. I still have a lot of plans for this place. It’s my chance at a fresh start.”

“Seems like a good place to start to me.”

I nod. “I hope so.”

"So, who are you trying to forget tonight?"

"I never said it was a who."

"It's always a who."

"Who is your who then?"

He shakes his head. "Mmmno. I asked you first."

"It's a lot of different things, not just a guy."

"But there is a guy."

"Was a guy. What about you?"

"No guy for me."

"Who's the girl, smartass?"

"I never said I was trying to forget anyone."

"But you are. That's why you're here."

"I'm here because you're persistent."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

I could bring up the fact he has a tattoo on his bicep that's a heart with KT in the middle, but I don't want to scare him off. He obviously doesn't want to talk about it. I've made it this far, it's better to just drop it and move on.

I take a deep breath. "We were in bed one night. Nothing crazy or unusual. We were just on our phones, about to go to sleep. He turns to me and says 'remember when we were happy?' which confused the hell out of me because I thought we were happy. I thought things were perfect. Looking back on it now I know they weren't perfect but they seemed like it at the time. I was happy, though. I didn't need perfect. I just needed us. I still...I miss him?" I figure if I open up maybe he will too.

"You don't sound sure."

"Maybe I just miss what we had. That's never coming back whether we're together or not. He wasn't happy and there was nothing I could do to change that."

"And you think tonight is gonna help."

"It has already."

He grins. "Told you."

"You know what? I'm tired of your smug and cocky attitude."

"No you're not."

"Yes I am." I go to playfully push him but he grabs my wrists and stops me.

"You're blushing." I try to pull away but he's got a good grip on me. Not hurting me, but way stronger than I am. "Not so fast."

I'm too drunk to even attempt to hide the giddy smile on my face. He smiles back at me with those dimples and crinkle eyes that I've been falling for all night. "It'll be way more fun if you let go."

He hesitates but then slowly lets go and I try to tickle him but he stops me again. "What are you doing?" He's amused. He continues smiling and stumbles a bit.

I laugh as I try to hold him up, as if I'm doing anything. If he were to actually fall we'd both be on the floor. "You ok there, wobbles?"

He looks me in the eyes and sways a little bit. "Fine."

"Are you gonna tell me about your who?"

He shakes his head. "No." He runs his fingers through my hair. We haven't broken eye contact this whole time. All I want is for him to kiss me, although I could look into his eyes all night and be perfectly fine with that.

He slowly leans in and kisses me. I'm a little in shock at first. I was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen. He holds onto the back of my head and I kiss him back. I never want it to end. We deepen the kiss and it becomes more passionate. It’s very intimate for two people who just met, who don’t even know each other’s names. We become more and more desperate for each other and our hands begin to wander and explore each other’s bodies.

He runs his hands up and down my back, his fingertips just graze my ass and start to wander back up. I almost whimper and his hands stray further and further away from my ass. I want him to grab it, push me up against a wall, and have his way with me. I slip my hands under his shirt to touch the skin on his back. I am craving skin contact and need to touch more. He’s taking his time with his hands exploring my body and normally I would get impatient and want to get right to the action, but kissing him and feeling his hands all over me is a new form of heaven I didn’t know existed.

He finally caresses my ass as he moves from my lips to my neck and I swear my pants evaporate from the heat my body is generating. His hands mirror mine and go under my shirt and it’s electricity through my veins when he makes contact. I kiss around his ear. “Just take it off,” I say, almost in a whisper, in his ear.

He kisses up my neck and to my ear as he messes with my bra. I’d be impressed if he could unclasp it like this. “Can people see us?”

“I don’t know, but we can go inside if you want.” His ass has been calling my name all night so I take this opportunity to grab it and it’s so much nicer than I thought. I don’t move my hands, I am going to be touching this all damn night.

He makes a noise in my ear and nibbles on my earlobe. It seems as if he’s enjoying it as much as I am. “Yes. Inside. Now.” 

I smile and kiss him nice and long before grabbing his hand and taking him inside. Somehow he had gotten my bra unclasped so I take it off from under my shirt and leave it on the chair in my office, which is what leads out to the roof. Before we get any further he stops us, holds onto my hips, and kisses me. His lips are perfect and I wish I could kiss him all night. I know I’m drunk so I’m trying not to be a drunken, sloppy mess about it. I want him to want to kiss me all night as well.

We get to my bedroom and he kicks his sneakers off right away, then he takes his hat off and places it on my dresser. His hair flops down into his face and he runs his fingers through it to push it back on his head and out of his eyes. How have I spent all of this time with him and not known that he has the greatest hair known to man. It’s like porn. It just falls right back into his face. I run my fingers through it for him this time and he smiles as he leans down to kiss me again. He hovers in front of my lips, just out of reach, and rubs his nose along mine. The tease. I palm him through his jeans and he bucks his hips towards my hand. I don’t mind taking our time, but I am not going to be teased. I fucking want him and want him right now. 

When I set out tonight I was hoping to have some sloppy, drunk, meaningless sex. I did not expect to meet a guy, go out on a date, take him back to my place, and have some of the best sex of my life but that is exactly what has happened. I thought it needed to be anonymous and a one night thing and I’d never have to see him again, but how can I let this guy walk out of my life forever after tonight? I can’t. I have a feeling he feels the same way. I hope he does anyway. As we lie in my bed catching our breath I wonder if these same thoughts are going through his head. It’s still so hard to read him. All I know is that he definitely had as good of a time as I did. 

"You should stay. There’s a great view of the sunrise from the roof." This is going against everything I thought tonight was going to be, not like the rest of it has gone to plan. I don't even know what's happening anymore. "Unless you have somewhere to be in the morning."

"Nowhere to be. I can stay." His voice is soft. I don't think he's believing tonight was real either.

“I can get a blanket from the cabinet. They’re nice and fluffy.”

“Do you want to go back up there now? It’s a nice night.”

“Are you sick of seeing me naked already? Alright, I get the hint.” I nudge him and laugh. We probably should get out of bed, though, I don’t want to get too used to him being here.

He laughs and nudges me back. “If we stay here longer I’ll wind up falling asleep and I’ll miss it.”

“You’re right.” I sit up and he runs his hand up and down my back. I can’t help smiling. “I’m gonna put sweats and a shirt on if that’s ok with you.”

“Whatever you want.”

We clean ourselves up in my bathroom before getting dressed. I grab some water from my fridge before we head outside just in case we get thirsty. It’s the perfect night to stay up and watch the sunrise. It’s not too cold, there really isn’t any kind of breeze even. The sky is clear so if I didn’t live in the middle of a big city I bet we’d see a sky full of stars. He sits on the couch and I get a blanket from the cabinet. I hate to admit that I am really looking forward to snuggling with him. I sit next to him and we get all cuddled up under the blanket.

We talk a little bit about my other plans for the deck and he tells me about his first apartment he lived in when he moved to Dallas. I love talking to him, nothing is awkward. The conversation is flowing and I feel like we have a nice connection. No matter what happens after he leaves tonight, this has been pretty special. We might also be doing a little bit of kissing in between talking and that doesn’t hurt either.

“I do have a who.” We hadn’t spoken in a few minutes but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was a silence that let us enjoy the night sky and gave us time to think about what’s gone on tonight so far.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s ok. I want to.” He sighs and pulls me closer to him and mindlessly traces circles on my arm. “We were starting to grow apart. We had our own careers, our own goals. We did the long distance thing for a while but it wasn’t working out so we took a break. I think it hit me way harder than it hit her and I probably should have taken that as a sign that it was time to move on, but I didn’t. We tried again but it just wasn’t the same. It was hard to admit but it just wasn’t working anymore.”

“That sucks. You think you’re with the person you’re going to spend the rest of your life with and then you gotta start all over again.”

“I wasn’t looking to just yet. I don’t know what I want right now.”

“You don’t have to know yet.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what I want either. Tonight was not something I regularly do.”

“Same goes for me.”

“The one night stand part or the taking a random stranger on a date part?”

He grins, showing those irresistible dimples. “Both.”

“Well, it was a pretty great night, so thank you.”

“You came up to me and wouldn’t give up so I should be thanking you too.”

“You thanked me a few times already.”

He blushes and buries his face in my hair. “That was fun.”

“I told you.” 

He belly laughs and pulls my head to rest on his shoulder. We still have a little while until the sun rises but we find ways to occupy ourselves until then. When I first saw this rooftop deck this is exactly what I imagined I’d be doing on it, I just never thought it would actually come true. I couldn’t have asked for a better night escaping all of my problems. I know they’ll be there to deal with tomorrow, but it was great to escape them for one night. I hope I helped him escape for a little while too. 

By the time the sun starts to rise we are both sober and struggling to stay awake, but we manage to see the whole thing and it does not disappoint. The sky is covered with yellow and orange as the sun says good morning. I am happy I asked him to stay and that he agreed to. I always feel that when I start my day off with a beautiful sunrise, that it’s going to be a good day. I would normally take a picture of it, but I’m too busy watching him be in awe. I never knew that when I bought this place that I would have the best view in the city.

I sigh, knowing that he’s probably going to be leaving soon and not knowing what the future holds for us. I could offer to make breakfast. He said he didn’t have anywhere to be today. I think I’m too tired to move, though. We do have to sleep at some point. I could ask him to come back inside and sleep the day away with me but I think that’s a little too ambitious. I try to study his face and get some kind of idea what he’s thinking. I see joy in his eyes so maybe there’s a chance.

He looks at me smiling. “This is amazing. I’m glad I stayed.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I am exhausted and should probably go home and get some sleep.”

My heart sinks a little. “I’d offer to drive you but I’d never make it back. I’m pretty tired myself.”

“I’ll take an Uber.”

We stand up and I fold up my blanket and put it back in the cabinet. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

“Thanks.”

We make it to the door and I decide that I’m going to let this be what it was supposed to be, a one night thing. Although, it’s pretty much killing me that I don’t even know his name. I should not have made that stupid rule. He hugs me before opening the door. I hug him back and don’t want to let go, but I know I have to so I do. 

It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open at this point but I look up at him just to get one last look before he goes. “I know we agreed no names, but I would really like to know yours.”

He shrugs. “That’s what next time is for.”