#the initial shock has worn off i think

[ingravinoveritas]

(CW: Mention of injury.)

I was squeezing a lime just now and some of the juice squirted up and landed on the burn on my neck. So much searing pain, and on top of that, I keep thinking about the accident/occasionally see it flash in front of me, and I am just absolutely so over anything and everything that's happened in the last day...

[quietwingsinthesky]

Every single action from clay ever just convinces me that he has managed to fall in love with desmond massively from the mere idea of him, but only knows "get out of my school" type flirting once actually faced with him

IT REALLY DOES READ EXACTLY LIKE THAT, HUH. guy finally meets the man he’s been stuck in time loop hell recovering himself and waiting for only to immediately start pulling on desmond’s pigtails. iconic.

[tsuma-senju]

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who only cares about winning, even if he has to be the biggest asshole in the world, ignoring anything other than the next fight.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who runs away from interviews like the plague, flinching in his chair as he hears the usual inane questions. His manager, a man blessed by heaven to be able to put up with the fighter's persistently optimistic mood, tries to keep his composure, but every dry, monosyllabic answer from Sukuna makes the sweat drip down his temple.

“Sukuna, how are you preparing for the fight against the Thai champion?”

“Training”

“Any new strategies?”

“Fighting”

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who was forced to be there against his will, stands up abruptly. The photographers are startled by the movement. The businessman tries to reach him, desperate.

"Sukuna! No! Only ten minutes to go!"

But it's no use. The champion is already leaving, with heavy, irritated steps, while the security guards try to clear the way. He ignores shouts, cameras, microphones and questions. And off he goes, towards the underground parking lot

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who is itching to get in and disappear in his matte black sports car.

He gets into the vehicle, starts the engine with a furious roar and begins to maneuver without paying much attention.

That's when you appear.

You, completely distracted, holding your cell phone and a shopping bag that almost falls to the ground.

The roar of the engine makes you look back, but it's too late.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, driving like an impatient ogre, almost runs you over.

“ARE YOU CRAZY, YOU SON OF A BITCH?!” you shout, slamming your palm down hard on the car window. “WHAT KIND OF IDIOT RUNS OUT OF THE PARKING LOT LIKE THAT?!”

You're furious. Your blood is boiling. Without even thinking about it, you're already hitting the bodywork harder.

"GET OUT OF THAT FUCKING CAR NOW! YOU IGNORANT"

The window starts to roll down. You're still huffing and puffing, indignant and ready to curse, until you see... him.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who is enchanted by your courage and audacity, appears like a huge shadow inside the car. His red eyes stare into yours as if studying you. The crooked smile at the corner of his mouth reveals that he is not in the least annoyed. On the contrary... he seems to be enjoying himself.

“Are you always like this?” he asks, getting out of the car with an annoying calmness and a body that makes the ground seem smaller.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who exudes imposing bearing, stretches himself to the maximum as he gets out of the car. His muscles bulge out from under his tight T-shirt, the tattoos decorating his arms like a dangerous map. You take two steps back, still holding the shopping bag as if it were a weapon.

"I-I... look, I'm sorry, okay? I... I thought you were some rich slacker"

“Technically, I am,” he replies, running his tongue over his teeth, approaching as if he were in a ring. “But your reaction... It was interesting”

Now that the initial shock has worn off, you realize who this is. Your eyes widen, the name slips out of your mouth like a secret:

"Ryomen Sukuna? The muai thai world champion?"

He shrugs.

"It depends. If I tell you no, will you keep shouting at me?"

You let out a nervous laugh, putting your hand to your forehead.

“Oh my God... I almost insulted you”

“Almost? You did” He smiles wider.

You try to apologize in every way, stumbling over your words, mixing up “I'm sorry”, “I really am sorry”, and “I didn't mean to”. But he raises a hand, cutting your apology in half.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who doesn't care about flattery or apologies, looks at you with a sharp look and says:

"Do you really want to apologize? Then give me your number."

You freeze.

“What?”

"That's it. Give me your number. I won't insist, but it would be a shame to let this story end in the parking lot."

You stare at him for a moment. He's not joking. And honestly? Maybe you're not either.

You take out your cell phone, type in your number and hand it over. He types something into his cell phone, and soon after, you receive a message:

Unknown number: "If I win the next fight, you owe me a coffee. If I lose... too. ;) - Sukuna."

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who gives you one last look before heading back to his car. Leaving you standing there, staring at your cell phone screen and trying to understand what the hell just happened.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who never gets distracted by anything outside the ring, didn't expect to fall in love with a woman he almost ran over in the parking lot. In front of the strong-tempered woman, drinking a coffee that he certainly won't let her pay for.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who, a few months later, is standing in the room he himself prepared with red petals scattered everywhere, lit candles emitting his favorite scent, the one you once mentioned casually one afternoon and he memorized as if it were the next technique that would save his life in the ring.

You open the front door thinking you're just going to find Sukuna grumpy and sweaty after training. But when you step inside, everything changes. The light is low, the sweet, familiar smell envelops you, and there, in the center of it all, is him, that man no one dares to contradict, holding a discreet ring in his calloused hand, as if it were made of glass.

"I almost ran you over," he begins, with that crooked, insolent smile, "and ever since then, I've never wanted you to get out of my way. Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who used to be cold, rough and averse to any sentimentality, now wants to hide you from the press because you're his little, and not at all defenseless, girlfriend. The woman who shouted at him without fear and who now sleeps on his chest every night. And he keeps it as a precious secret. For months, no one knows he's with someone. You live behind the scenes, away from the spotlight, safe and loved.

When you ask, he replies with the same expression as always:

"Next question."

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who marries you a year later. It was a simple, private ceremony, with no paparazzi or magazine covers. The only flashes were from close friends and family. But there was too much sincerity in that exchange of vows. He wore a suit, his hair neatly combed, and a look that seemed ready to cry, even if he would never admit it.

"I'm yours. Forever. Even when I'm far away. Even when my fists are closed. Even when life wants to beat me down... you'll be the only thing that keeps me standing."

You cried. He held your hand tightly. And when you were pronounced husband and wife, the world stopped for a few seconds.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna who has a dry, impersonal Instagram, with only training videos, photos with medals and short phrases like “ready” or “focus”. But one day, he surprised all of his almost six million followers with something no one expected.

One photo. No caption. Three hands.

His, scarred, rough, with knuckles hardened from so many punches.

Yours, soft, smooth, resting on top of his.

And between them, a chubby, innocent little hand, grasping Sukuna's finger as if it already knew it was safe there.

The comments explode.

“Is he a FATHER?” “Is this photo real???” “STOP THE WORLD I NEED INFORMATION” “Someone warn me that Sukuna has become a dilf”

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who doesn't give interviews about his personal life, remains silent. He deactivates the comments hours later. He leaves the image there, alone, saying everything he will never put into words.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who could never have imagined that his life would change completely in four years, now wakes up at dawn to hold a baby on his lap. He sings, walks down the dark corridor with slow, careful steps, and holds the child like he holds his own heart in his hands.

He finds himself looking at you, sleeping exhausted after another difficult night, and feels his chest tighten with love.

"Thank you," he whispers softly, so no one can hear.

Muai thai fighter Sukuna, who used to think only of winning, now measures victories in quiet cries, small laughs and kisses on the top of your head.

He is still the champion. He is still feared. He still fights like a demon when he's in the octagon.

But at home, he's just the man who can't stop thanking you.

For you. For the baby. For the life he never planned to have, but which has turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to him.

[urdreamydoodles]

Hello! First off, I need to let you know you had made me the happiest person when I found out there was a marvel comic x reader writer and your writing is beautiful! I was wondering if you would write a hc of marvel comic Matt Murdock, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, and Julian Keller (idk if you write for him since he’s formerly x-men) reacting to reader kissing them out of nowhere/when they least expect it. Thank you!

X-MEN CHARACTERS X FEM!READER

You kiss them when they least expect it

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney, Wade Wilson & Julian Keller

Reply to anon: I'm a Marvel & DC Comic book fan first and foremost, so I wanted to write for this version of the characters and to be honest, I didn't expect so much love for it...SO I'M EXTREMELY HAPPY to receive your type of message! The headcanons for Matt come right after in the "Marvel Comics Characters" headcanons I will post <3 (Btw, I love Julian)

Logan Howlett

- Logan smells you before he sees you, that familiar, intoxicating scent that always seems to linger in the air long after you’ve left. He barely has time to turn before your lips are on his, searing and unexpected, a wildfire in the dead of winter. His entire body tenses—like something wild, something caged—but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he goes utterly still, as if afraid that any movement will wake him from this impossible dream. He has lived lifetimes soaked in blood and regret, but this? This is something he never let himself believe he could have.

- The taste of you is an ache, something he knows will settle into his bones and never leave. His hands twitch at his sides, the animal in him howling to hold, to take, to claim—but you are not something to be taken. And so, he lets you lead. Your lips move against his with the kind of softness he has never known, and his mind screams that this is dangerous. He is dangerous. But then you sigh into him, fingers curling in the worn leather of his jacket, and he thinks—maybe—he could allow himself this one selfish thing.

- When you finally pull away, his breath is unsteady, rough, the remnants of your touch burning through his veins like whiskey. His eyes—dark, stormy, something unspoken lurking beneath them—search your face as if trying to commit every detail to memory. He should say something. Tell you this is a mistake, that he is too old, too broken, too much. But when he sees the way you look at him—like he is not a weapon, not a thing made for war but a man—his throat closes around the words.

- “You got no idea what you’re doin’, darlin’,” he mutters, voice rough as gravel. And yet, when you smile, soft and knowing, when your fingers trail the faintest touch against his jaw before you step back, he knows you do. You know exactly what you’re doing. And for the first time in a very long time, Logan thinks—maybe—he could let someone love him. Maybe he could love them back.

Remy LeBeau

- Remy never expects to be caught off guard. He is a man who thrives in the game of unpredictability, who lives in the art of mischief and charm, who always has the upper hand. And yet, the moment your lips press against his, he forgets how to breathe. His hands, so used to sleight of hand and stolen treasures, falter at his sides. He could swear his heart stops beating, just for a second, just long enough for the world to tilt beneath his feet. He has been kissed before, a thousand times over, but never like this. Never by you.

- When the initial shock fades, he reacts like a man starved. His fingers find your waist, his body pressing flush against yours as if he could sink into you, disappear into this moment and never return. He tastes of spice and something sweeter, something sinful, and you realize—Remy LeBeau does not simply kiss. He devours. He worships. His lips move with the expertise of a thief, stealing the breath from your lungs, the steadiness from your limbs, and he does it all with a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

- He doesn’t let you pull away easily. Even when you try, his grip lingers, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours like a confession neither of you are ready to speak. His eyes, those crimson-burning embers, flicker over your face with a hunger that has nothing to do with the usual games he plays. “Ma belle,” he murmurs, voice like velvet, like the slow drag of a match before it sparks. “Y’gon’ be the death of me.” And yet, the way he smiles—half-dazed, half-drunk on you—tells you he would not mind dying that way.

- There is something dangerous in the way Remy looks at you now. Not the usual teasing, not the flirtation thrown so easily to the wind, but something deeper. Something reverent. As if he is looking at a gamble worth losing everything for. And as his fingers brush your jaw, tracing the ghost of your touch, you realize—you have just become the only game Remy LeBeau is willing to play for the rest of his life.

Kurt Wagner

- Kurt is not used to being touched so freely. Not like this. Not without hesitation. When your lips meet his, it is as if the world stutters around him, as if time itself takes pause to marvel at the impossible. His breath catches in his throat, a sharp, startled sound, and for the briefest moment, he forgets how to exist. His tail curls behind him in a sharp flick of surprise, and he nearly disappears in a reflex of instinct, but something about the warmth of your hands, the softness of your mouth, keeps him grounded. Keeps him here.

- When he finally gathers the courage to move, it is hesitant, unsure—his fingers hovering at your waist as if afraid to break something sacred. His lips, gentle, trembling with quiet reverence, move against yours like a whispered prayer. You are warmth, light, something divine in his arms, and he drinks you in like salvation. He has dreamt of this—secret, foolish dreams whispered into the lonely nights—but never dared believe it could be real. That you could want this as much as he does.

- When you part, his breath is unsteady, his golden eyes wide with wonder. He stares at you as if you have done the impossible, as if you have rewritten the very fabric of his existence with a single touch. His tail coils loosely around your wrist, a subconscious tether, as if to reassure himself that you are real. That this is real. “Mein Herz,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “What have you done to me?” And yet, the way he smiles—soft, awestruck—tells you he never wants to be undone by anyone else but you.

- He does not know how to ask for more. Does not know if he is allowed to. But when you lace your fingers with his, when you press the faintest of kisses to his cheek before stepping back, he knows—he would wait a lifetime for you to do it again. And again. And again.

Scott Summers

- Scott lives by control. He has spent his life suppressing, restraining, calculating every breath, every movement, every word, because one wrong step can mean disaster. But when you kiss him—without warning, without hesitation—every ounce of that control shatters. His entire body stiffens, breath stolen, mind racing with the sheer impossibility of what is happening. He has dreamed of this, a thousand different ways, but none of them prepared him for the reality of your lips against his.

- His hands—gloved, always careful, always distant—hover at your sides, caught between instinct and hesitation. He wants to touch you, wants to pull you closer, but the fear of losing control, of breaking something irreparable, holds him back. And yet, you do not waver. You kiss him like he is not a weapon, like he is not something dangerous, like he is just a man. And for the first time, Scott Summers allows himself to believe it.

- When you finally part, he exhales sharply, as if he has been holding his breath for years. His glasses slip slightly down his nose, and he pushes them up with a shaky hand, his fingers brushing against his lips as if trying to chase the ghost of your touch. “I—” His voice falters, rare uncertainty cracking through his carefully built walls. He swallows hard, eyes hidden but gaze heavy. “I wasn’t expecting that.” But there is something else in his tone, something just shy of desperate. He wasn’t expecting it—but now he wants more.

- You smile, tilting your head, studying him with a knowing softness that makes his stomach twist. “Would you like me to do it again?” The question is playful, teasing, but the heat that flares in his chest is anything but. He swallows down a million responses, a million emotions threatening to spill over, and simply nods. Because yes. Yes, he would. More than anything, he would.

Jean Grey

- Jean has always been attuned to the emotions of others. She feels them like echoes in her own mind, the soft hum of sorrow, the sharp sting of desire, the quiet weight of longing. But when your lips press against hers, she feels nothing but silence—beautiful, breathtaking silence. The world, usually so loud, so overwhelming, fades into something small, something insignificant. There is only the warmth of your mouth, the way your fingers tangle in the red silk of her hair, the way your heartbeat thrums against her own like a perfect melody.

- She gasps against you, not out of shock but something deeper—something fragile. She has lived lifetimes within the span of a single moment, has seen the past, present, and future weave together like a tapestry, but she never saw this. Never saw the way you would tilt the world on its axis with a single touch. Her hands, delicate yet unshakable, find your face, her thumbs tracing the shape of you as if committing you to memory. She knows, in the depths of her soul, that she will never forget this.

- When you finally pull away, she exhales a laugh—soft, breathless, incredulous. Her emerald eyes search yours, bright with something that flutters on the edge of joy and disbelief. “You—” She stops herself, biting her lip as if savoring the taste of you, as if reluctant to let it go. And then she shakes her head, a slow, knowing smile curling her lips. “You really are full of surprises.” There is a lightness in her tone, but beneath it, something deeper lingers. Something that tells you she does not want this to be a singular moment.

- And then, before you can respond, she leans in—this time, she is the one to steal the air from your lungs. The kiss is softer now, slower, but no less consuming. When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with your own. “I could get used to that,” she murmurs, voice warm as sunlight. And in the way she lingers, in the way she stays close, you know—she already has.

Ororo Munroe

- Ororo is a goddess, a tempest, a force of nature so powerful the very skies bend to her will. And yet, when you kiss her, she is caught in a storm she cannot control. Her breath catches, her usually poised frame stiffening for the briefest of moments as your lips mold against hers. She has always been the eye of the hurricane, calm amidst chaos, but now, she is swept away in a current she never anticipated.

- Her hands hover at your sides, unsure, not out of reluctance but reverence. To be loved by Ororo Munroe is to be touched by the divine, but for the first time, she does not feel like a goddess—she feels human. She feels the warmth of your skin, the way your fingers brush against her cheek, the way your lips move with something so tender it unravels her. The storm within her does not rage—it settles, it quiets, it softens into something resembling peace.

- When you finally part, her white lashes flutter against her cheeks, her breath uneven, her hands finally finding your waist as if to ground herself. She looks at you as if you have done the impossible, as if you have harnessed the wind and commanded the rain. And perhaps you have. Because for the first time in a long time, Ororo Munroe does not feel alone. “You surprise me,” she admits, her voice a whisper of thunder, low and full of something unreadable. “And I do not surprise easily.”

- A smile tugs at the corner of her lips, rare and breathtaking, the kind of smile that shifts the seasons. And then, with a gentleness that contradicts her power, she presses her forehead to yours, fingers threading through your hair. “Do it again,” she breathes, and there is something almost dangerous in the way she says it. Because now that she has tasted you, now that she has felt this, Ororo Munroe is not sure she could ever let it go.

Rogue

- Rogue has spent her entire life fearing touch. She has spent years mastering the art of distance, of longing from afar, of never letting herself hope for too much. And yet, when your lips meet hers—soft, unguarded, reckless—she forgets to be afraid. The world disappears in the space between heartbeats, and all that remains is the impossible, the breathtaking reality of you kissing her.

- Her mind screams at her to pull away, to stop this before it’s too late, before she ruins something beautiful. But she can’t. She won’t. Her gloved hands grasp at your arms, her body leaning into yours as if she has spent lifetimes waiting for this moment. And perhaps she has. Because for the first time, she isn’t thinking about control, about consequences. She is thinking about the way your lips feel against hers, the way your breath mingles with her own, the way your fingers press into the small of her back as if you could hold her together.

- When you part, her chest rises and falls in quick, uneven breaths, her wide green eyes searching yours with something almost desperate. “Sugar, you—” Her voice falters, thick with emotion, with something dangerously close to hope. Her fingers, still gloved, trace the ghost of your touch against her lips, and she swallows hard. “You don’t know what you just did.” But the way she looks at you—the way she stares as if you have rewritten the very fabric of her existence—tells you that maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t mind.

- She should be afraid. She should be pushing you away, telling you that this is dangerous, that she is dangerous. But when you smile at her, when you reach for her hand despite the barriers she wears, she feels something shift. Something new. Something she is not sure she deserves, but something she wants all the same. And for the first time, Rogue wonders—what if she let herself have this? What if, just this once, she didn’t run?

Erik Lehnsherr

- Erik has built his life around steel and rage, around vengeance and pain, around the belief that love is a weakness he cannot afford. And yet, when you kiss him, every wall he has so carefully constructed crumbles beneath the weight of your touch. He stiffens, a sharp inhale slicing through the space between you, his entire body wound tight like coiled metal, but he does not pull away. He does not stop you. Because for the first time in a long, long time—he doesn’t want to.

- Your lips move against his with a softness he does not deserve, a tenderness he has spent lifetimes denying himself. His hands twitch at his sides, hesitant, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. But when your fingers tangle in his hair, when your breath mingles with his, when you kiss him like he is not Magneto, not a man shaped by war and loss, but simply a man—he is undone.

- When you finally part, his breath is heavy, uneven, his storm-gray eyes dark with something unreadable. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, as if restraining himself from reaching for you, from keeping you tethered to this moment forever. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he murmurs, voice like rusted iron, rough and laced with something dangerously close to yearning. But there is no real warning in his tone, no true resistance. Only the weight of a man who does not know how to accept kindness, how to accept love.

- And yet, when you step forward, when you press your palm to his chest, when you look at him as if he is not a monster but something worthy—his resolve fractures. His fingers, finally, finally, find your waist, his grip firm yet reverent, as if afraid you might disappear. “Do it again,” he breathes, and in that moment, Erik Lehnsherr does not care if love is a weakness. Because if this is what it means to be weak—then for you, he will gladly fall.

Charles Xavier

- Charles Xavier has spent his life knowing things before they happen. His gift is both a blessing and a burden, allowing him to read thoughts, anticipate words before they are spoken, sense feelings before they fully form. But when you kiss him, it is the first time in his life that he is truly, utterly surprised. For once, his mind is not a step ahead—it is caught in the moment, helplessly, beautifully ensnared in the warmth of your lips and the gentle insistence of your touch.

- His breath stutters as you tilt into him, the world narrowing to the space between your bodies. He has always prided himself on his composure, on the unshakable calm of his demeanor, but now he feels undone. Your lips are soft but certain, as if you have known this moment was meant to happen all along. His hands twitch against the arms of his wheelchair, caught between instinct and disbelief, between wanting to pull you closer and simply letting himself exist in this quiet, impossible wonder.

- When you finally pull away, his blue eyes flutter open, dazed, unfocused, as though waking from a dream too precious to be real. A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips, something warm and unreadable flickering behind his gaze. “That was unexpected,” he murmurs, voice like velvet, smooth but slightly unsteady. And yet, there is something else beneath his words, something deeper—an unspoken truth that has lingered between you for too long, now given breath at last.

- He reaches for your hand then, his fingers ghosting over yours in a way that is both hesitant and reverent. “Would you mind terribly,” he breathes, his smile deepening, “if I returned the favor?” And when he leans in, when his lips find yours again, there is nothing hesitant about it. There is only the weight of time, of longing, of something that was always meant to be.

Wanda Maximoff

- Wanda has spent her life walking the fragile line between control and chaos, between the known and the unknown, between the world as it is and the world as it could be. And yet, when you kiss her, all of it—the noise, the worry, the restless ache of her existence—disappears. There is only you. Only the impossible softness of your lips, only the warmth of your touch, only the way time seems to slow, to bend, to hold its breath for her.

- She does not pull away, does not tense, does not question. Instead, she melts into you, her fingers curling into the fabric of your clothing as if afraid you might slip through her grasp like so many things before. You taste like something she has spent lifetimes reaching for, something she has never quite believed she could have. And yet, here you are. Here she is. And for once, the world does not seem so cruel.

- When the kiss finally breaks, she does not move far. Her forehead lingers against yours, her breath mingling with your own as if unwilling to let go of the moment just yet. Her deep, sorrowful eyes search yours, dark with something unreadable—something aching, something vast. “You shouldn’t do things like that,” she whispers, and yet her fingers tighten their grip on you, betraying her own words. “It makes me want to believe in things I shouldn’t.”

- And yet, despite her protest, despite the ghosts that haunt her, Wanda does not step away. Instead, she tilts her head, studying you as if memorizing every detail, every curve, every fleeting second. And then, as if deciding something only she can understand, she kisses you again—slower this time, softer, as if weaving a spell that neither of you will ever escape.

Pietro Maximoff

- Pietro Maximoff moves faster than thought, faster than light, faster than anyone can keep up with. He is a blur, a flicker, a storm that never settles, never stills. But when you kiss him—when you reach for him without hesitation, without warning—time stops. For once, he is not ahead of the world. He is not running. He is simply here. And it terrifies him.

- His entire body locks up, caught between instinct and shock, between the urge to retreat and the unbearable need to lean in. No one ever catches him off guard—no one. But you? You have done it so effortlessly, so completely, that he feels as though you have stolen the breath from his lungs. He forgets to move, forgets to think, forgets everything except the way your lips press against his, the way your fingers grasp at him like you have no intention of letting go.

- When you finally pull back, his silver lashes flutter, his bright blue eyes wide, wild with something unreadable. “Did you just—” He stops himself, swiping his tongue over his lips as if to make sure the sensation is real. And then, suddenly, he laughs—a breathless, incredulous sound, full of something sharp and breathless. “You’re either very brave or very reckless,” he murmurs, voice tinged with something teasing, something warmer than he meant it to be. “Maybe both.”

- And yet, even as he tries to turn it into a joke, his fingers twitch at his sides, restless, uncertain. He has never been good at staying still, never been good at patience—but for you, for this, he thinks he could learn. “Do it again,” he says, grinning now, eyes glinting with something wicked, something real. “I dare you.” And the way he looks at you—the way he leans in, as if already chasing the next kiss—tells you that this is a dare neither of you ever plan to back down from.

Hank McCoy

- Hank McCoy is a man of intellect, of reason, of science. He has spent his life in pursuit of knowledge, in understanding the mysteries of the world through logic and deduction. But when you kiss him—when your lips press against his without preamble, without hesitation—there is nothing logical about it. His mind, so accustomed to analysis, simply stops. And for the first time in a long, long time, he is left with nothing but feeling.

- His breath hitches, a sharp inhale caught in the depths of his chest, his large hands flexing at his sides as if unsure what to do with them. He is a scholar, a thinker, a man who prides himself on his control—but here, now, he feels unmoored. Your touch is warmth against the cold edges of his mind, a spark that ignites something deep, something unexpected, something he cannot name.

- When you finally pull away, he does not move for a long moment. His blue eyes flicker with something complex, something vulnerable, something profoundly, devastatingly human. “That was… unexpected,” he finally says, voice rough with something you cannot quite place. And yet, despite his words, despite the shock that lingers in his expression, his gaze is soft when it meets yours, unbearably gentle.

- He exhales a slow breath, as if steadying himself, and then—almost tentatively—he reaches for your hand. His fingers are careful, cautious, as if afraid you might vanish like a fleeting hypothesis unproven. “Would you, perhaps, consider repeating the experiment?” he asks, a small, wry smile curling at the edges of his lips. And when you lean in again, when his hands finally settle against you with quiet certainty, you know this is an experiment he never intends to abandon.

Emma Frost

- Emma Frost has spent a lifetime ensuring that no one can touch her—not truly. Her mind is a fortress of diamond walls and razor-edged wit, a citadel where no one is allowed entry without permission. She does not startle easily; she does not allow herself to be vulnerable. And yet, when you kiss her—when your lips press against hers without warning, without hesitation—she falters. Just for a moment. Just long enough for you to feel it.

- Her breath catches, but she does not pull away. No, Emma Frost does not retreat. Instead, she tilts her head slightly, allowing you just enough room to linger, to taste the cool, intoxicating sharpness of her. And yet, there is warmth beneath the ice, a slow-burning ember hidden beneath layers of frost. She is calculating even in this, assessing, analyzing—but there is something else in the way her fingers twitch against your arm, something unspoken in the way her lips part ever so slightly beneath yours.

- When you finally pull back, her expression is unreadable, a perfect mask of composure—except for her eyes. There is something dangerous in them, something bright and wicked and amused. A slow, knowing smile curls her lips as she tilts her chin, regarding you with the kind of gaze that makes people weak in the knees. “My darling,” she purrs, voice like silk and steel entwined, “if you wanted me, you only had to ask.”

- And yet, when her fingers brush against your wrist—light, fleeting, almost imperceptible—it is not just a challenge. There is something softer beneath the bravado, something she will never admit aloud. You have surprised her. And Emma Frost does not allow herself to be surprised. So when she leans in again, this time on her own terms, you understand the weight of it—the rarity, the quiet surrender hidden beneath the smirk.

Laura Kinney

- Laura Kinney is not accustomed to softness. Her world has been forged in blood and survival, in the quiet brutality of necessity. She has been trained to anticipate every attack, every shift in movement, every threat before it even takes form. But when you kiss her, there is no time to predict, no time to react—only the moment, sudden and unrelenting. And for once in her life, she is caught off guard.

- Her body stiffens on instinct, muscles coiled tight, but she does not pull away. No, she stays still, frozen in place as if trying to process something unfamiliar, something she has no protocol for. Your lips are soft against hers, warm and sure, and for a brief second, she forgets to breathe. It is foreign, this feeling, this intimacy that is not laced with violence or pain. And yet, it does not feel wrong. It feels… safe. And she does not know what to do with that.

- When you finally pull back, she blinks up at you, her gold-green eyes wide, pupils blown. Her breath is uneven, though she would never admit it. Her fingers flex at her sides, a silent battle between instinct and something deeper, something softer. “Why did you do that?” she asks, voice low, guarded. But there is no anger in it, no sharp edges of rejection. Only quiet curiosity. Only the echo of something she is too afraid to name.

- And then, as if deciding something in that precise moment, she steps closer. Not much, just enough for her breath to brush against your cheek. Her gaze flickers down to your lips, and when she speaks again, it is almost hesitant—almost shy. “Do it again.” It is not a request. It is a challenge. And when you accept, when your lips find hers once more, she does not freeze this time. Instead, she leans in.

Wade Wilson

- Wade Wilson never shuts up. He fills the air with words, with jokes, with carefully crafted chaos designed to keep people at arm’s length. He is quick and loud and relentless, because silence is where the darkness creeps in, where the thoughts become too heavy, too real. But when you kiss him—when you press your lips against his without preamble, without warning—he falls completely, utterly silent.

- His mind goes blank. It is a rare thing, for Wade to be lost for words, for thoughts, for anything but the sheer, staggering reality of this moment. Your lips are soft against his, warm, steady, real. And for once, he is not a punchline, not a joke, not a monster wrapped in red and black. He is just Wade, just a man who is suddenly, unexpectedly being kissed by someone he never thought would want to.

- When you pull back, there is a beat of absolute stillness. Then, suddenly, he sucks in a sharp breath and blurts out, “Was that a pity kiss? Wait, no, don’t answer that. Actually, do answer that. But lie to me if it was. Unless it wasn’t. In which case—” He stops himself, blinking rapidly, his gloved fingers twitching at his sides. “Holy shit. You actually kissed me. I didn’t hallucinate that, right? Because, like, my brain is super messed up, and sometimes I—”

- But then, you kiss him again—shorter this time, softer, just enough to shut him up. And when you pull away, he just stares at you, his mouth slightly open, his expression unreadable beneath the mask. And then, slowly, his hands come up to his face, covering his mouth as if trying to hold something in. “Oh my God,” he whispers, voice slightly muffled. “I’m gonna have to marry you now.” He peeks between his fingers. “You cool with that? No take-backs.”

Julian Keller

- Julian Keller is not used to being caught off guard. He is sharp, quick-witted, arrogant to a fault, and always, always in control. People orbit around him, drawn in by the effortless gravity of his confidence, his charm, the raw, unapologetic force of his presence. But when you kiss him—when you take him by surprise for the first time in his life—his mind goes completely, devastatingly blank.

- For a split second, he doesn’t react. And then, his body catches up with him, his hands instinctively reaching for you, gripping your waist like an anchor. His breath stutters against your lips, and suddenly, he is no longer the Julian Keller who always knows what to say, who always has the upper hand. He is just a boy, completely and utterly at your mercy. And it thrills him.

- When you finally pull back, his lips are parted, his green eyes slightly dazed, like he’s trying to piece together reality again. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face—wide, cocky, but with something undeniably genuine beneath it. “Damn,” he breathes, running a hand through his dark hair, voice rougher than usual. “That was… unexpected.” His grin sharpens, his gaze flicking to your lips. “You gonna warn me next time, or is this just how you say hi now?”

- And yet, despite the teasing, despite the bravado, there is something else in his gaze—something that lingers, something that betrays just how much that single kiss affected him. He leans in again, close enough that his breath fans against your skin. “You know,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “if you wanted my attention, there were easier ways.” But the way he looks at you—the way his fingers curl slightly, as if resisting the urge to pull you back in—tells you that, despite his words, he wouldn’t change a thing.

[ang3ltine]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐔𝐬 - ft Se mi x freader 18 +

Description: Story is based off an apocalyptic game. You and Se mi stumble across a pot basement and get carried away. There, Se mi realises she has a 'daddy kink'.

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: smoking weed , smut, dirty talk, fingering , use of dildo, being high , soft dom! Se mi, sub! freader

"𝙂𝙤 𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙘𝙪𝙢. 𝘾𝙪𝙢 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙄'𝙢 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤..! 𝘾𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙣𝙤𝙬".

Your mind was already in the clouds, already forgetting about the reason as to why you're both here. To collect supplies and scout the area.

Yet here you were, fucking in a basement full of weed at an abandoned school.

Supplies were running dangerously low so You and Se mi were sent to get some more. Along with a scouting the new area to check for more of the 'infected'.

Mounting your horses, you both set out at dawn, beyond the gates of Jackson. It was about midday when you finally arrived at said location that your boss had give you.

The women next to you was your partner Se mi. She wore a brown leather jacket with padding inside paired with worn out jeans. You on the other hand wore a long dark trench coat with a winter hat and thick grey jeans.

No scouts had checked this area yet so you both were sent here to investigate and bring back sufficient supplies.

"So chief, what do you think? Looks like the area isn't swarmed with infected yet." Se mi pointed out while she stops beside you with her chestnut brown horse.

Rolling your eyes at the ravenette, you carefully examine the map in your hands. "Look, I'm sure they're still here. They might be hiding somewhere."

Unfortunately your hunch was correct. A small hoard of infected indeed have been hiding underneath the gaps of the houses.

They had awakened after hearing the noises from the horses. Having no choice, you both had barred yourselves in an abandoned school after successfully killing a handful of the 'zombies' on the way there.

"Shit that was close," you huffed as you bring out your torchlight and then grabbed Se mi's hand.

"Maybe we can find the break room and turn the generator on. Get some rest and stock up on supplies then leave. How does that sound?"

Se mi was too focused on you holding her hand since you usually don't initiate in skinship unless you wanted to. Smiling to herself, she gives your hand a light squeeze.

"Yeah sure, just don't get scared shitless if an infected happened to sneak in ", she snickered as you huffed in annoyance.

"Way to ruin the mood", you shook your head in disappointment as you both make your way further into the desolate building.

"You still love me though."

It took a while to reach the basement but you eventually did. You both were in shock as you descend the wooden planks of the stairs.

"Holy shit! There's pot down here?"Se mi whisper shouted, just in case somebody heard them.

There were mini greenhouses full of weed and someone's personal belongings scattered everywhere.

You hastily made your way to the breakers and turn the lights and heating on. " You think Old man Richie lives here?", you suggested as you look at some items and papers with charts scattered on a desk.

"Hmm probably, idk I haven't seen him in a while," Se mi says with a rolled up blunt in her mouth, already lighting it.

"You gotta be kidding me, there's no way you're trying to get high now. We're supposed to be looking for supplies!," you huffed as you went to grab the blunt from in between Se mi's lips.

She had already taken a huge drag and blowing it out. The strong smell of weed hung in the air, making you scrunch your nose. You weren't really a huge fan of it. Sw mi knew ofcourse but she's just being a little shit.

"Since we're here we might as well have some fun," Se mi drawled as she pulls you closer to her. You had to cover her mouth with your hand to block the smell from reaching your nose.

"Uh uh , not after having that crap-", you exclaimed before getting cutoff by Se mi. She quickly grabbed hold of your wrist, and brang your hand to her chest. Her heart rate had increased as you look up to see that her eyes had begun to dliate.

"See this? This is how you're making me feel right now. Absolutely crazy," Se mi pointed out as her voice goes on octave deeper. Leaning down she lightly grazes your lips with hers as your breath hitches. She glances into your eyes, silently asking for your permission.

Seeing as there was no way out of this, you gave in. Pressing your lips against hers with fervent as you reach up to entangle you fingers into her raven hair. You tug at it gently, pulling out a low groan from Se mi as she deepens the kiss.

Her lips were slightly chapped but it didn't bother you as much, they were still soft. Tasting the weed on her tongue as she slowly backs you up to the sofa behind you.

Yelping as soon as she picks you up behind your legs and plops you down onto the soft cushions. They were slightly dirty but that wasn't really on your mind right now. Se mi had crawled ontop of you to pull you in for another heated kiss. Whispering sweet nothings againgst your lips while you let out soft moans. Bucking up mindlessly against her hips.

"Daddy please-," you unexpectedly let out making Se mi stop for a second. Her eyes slowly turned dark from lust as she asks you to repeat what you just said. Blinking in confusion you think back to what you said.

"Daddy please...?", Se mi sat there , sinking in the given pet name and something in her snapped. She's never been called that before, but she likes it. She really likes it.

Quickly stripping you, she left you in just your underwear. Burying her face into your neck to leave harsh kisses and bites all along your supple skin. She rips off your bra before attaching her lips onto your erected nipples, sucking and swirling around both buds carefully.

Her hand reaches down towards your heat, already feeling a wet spot on your underwear.

"Huh.. that wet for me already? Just from a few kisses?" She chuckles darkly as she removes the dainty piece of clothing onto the floor beside you.

You feel her push in her index finger into you, slowly, making sure you would feel every inch of her girthy finger. The feeling of her fingers stretching you oh so deliciously got you drooling - fuck even Se mi seemed to be enjoying this more than you. Picking up the pace, she was practically fucking you with her rough fingers. Abusing your sopping wet cunt while mindlessly sucking your boob's, taking turns on each one.

Her pace never once faltered, not when you looked so good when throwing your head back in pleasure and moaning out her name. Se mi, bit each and every inch of skin she could reach, while her fingers remained curled inside you. You were so close.

"Shit Se mi! Gonna cum - please I'm gonna..-"

"Do it. Cum all over my fingers baby" she hissed as she looks down at you through her lashes. Admiring your ruined form with a lazy smirk.

Just like that you saw white. You came so fucking hard from just her fingers, panting and trembling slightly as she helped you ride your orgasm. Until she pulls out her strap tucked underneath her jeans. " wha-- why do you have that on?", you manage to breathe out as she gently taps the plastic onto your stimulated pussy.

"Eh, idk just felt like it," she shrugged as you place you head back onto the armrest of the couch. "That's really dirty of you, you know that right-?". Your breath caught in your throat as she pushes her length into your tight warm cunt. It's been a while since she's fucked you, so deep down, you were excited.

With her hands bruising your ass, she latches her lips onto your left nipple, repeating the action as her dick fucked you deep and slow. You reach down to rest your hand on her cheek and led her into a messy kiss, she responded by pushing her tongue past your lips. Exploring each and every corner of your mouth inside.

The room filled with the smell of weed, sweat and sex as the two of you made out. Se mi smirked againgst your lips as you whine in frustration because she was going too slow.

"What's wrong princess? You want me to go faster?" She muses as you nod profusely.

"Use your words~"

"Please daddy, I want you to go faster...!" Like a flick of a switch, her hands gripped your hips, before thrusting into you. She buckled her hips into you , her dick bruising your cervix and making your velvet walls tighten around her.

"Good girl...", she whispers into your ear as she begins to ruin you.

Her fingers left marks on your skin, she reached up to grope your breasts while kissing you lazily. The weed coming into affect yet again, all while pounding your poor dripping pussy.

Her dick kept on sliding in and out of you while you guys made out on the couch. Smirking proudly at your breathless moans and cries of pleasure. You looked heavenly to her, your wispy hair fell messily around your head like a halo, and your cheeks were tinted a rosy pink.

"That's it gorgeous, keep making those sounds for me only. You like me pounding you like this? Like when I turn you into a mess?"

Oh the way she makes you crumble beneath her touch. How were you supposed to answer when she was fucking you so deeply that you've become dumbed out?

You moaned rather loudly as she presses down on the bulge her dick made on your stomach. Whimpering slightly as you scrape her toned back with your nails, feeling another orgasm approach.

"You gonna cum for me babe? I'm close too, go on cum on this dick! Cream on this dick for me right now".

Her pace quickened yet again and was pounding into you impossibly deeper. Burying the strap deep inside you 'till none of it could be seen visibly. Her grip on you was merciless as you moaned into her mouth, finally letting your orgasm wash out.

With one last harsh thrust into your dripping wet cunt, she bit down onto your neck as she too releases her cum into the plastic dildo attached to her. Your legs trembled once you came on her dick. The aftershocks from your orgasm stayed a while as you both lay together on the couch with Se mi resting ontop of you.

"Damnn, that was hot. Didn't know you had it in you darling," she shakily breathed out with a proud smile on her face, as the affect from the weed had slowly began to wear off.

"So...smart ass, how're we gonna get cleaned up?" You say after a while, crossing your arms across your chest. Glaring at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey calm down, I'm sure the old geezer has a shower down here. Don't worry, we'll figure it out".

Pressing soft kisses all over your face and across the dark marks across your body. She slowly starts getting you both dressed.

At the end of the day, she only cares about you and your wellbeing. So soft aftercare is must after a long session like this.

"Next time don't smoke infront of me, at least not on missions."

"Sure thing princess, anything for you".

Ps: I know this is short but I hope you enjoyed it!

@mattm1964

[lovelybucky1]

4. The Hangover

wc- 1.9k // main masterlist // go greek! masterlist // tw: alcohol consumption, sexual themes

The first thing you notice when you wake up is how comfortable you are. There’s no doubt that you’re in a college bed, but one with a nice, thick mattress topper that forms to the contours of your body and shields you from the poor excuse for a bed the college provides.

The next thing you realize is your outfit. You’re no longer wearing your bikini top and denim shorts. Instead, you’re in a t-shirt that is obviously not yours and you’ve lost the shorts, leaving you in just your panties. You open your eyes, and once you suffer through the initial shock of daylight, you realize you recognize the shirt Bucky was wearing the previous night.

Immediately, you sit up. Am I in Bucky’s bed? You look around the room but you don’t see any of Steve’s artwork or Bucky’s sports jerseys. So if I’m not in their room, where am I?

The side of the room you’re in is covered with band posters. Tyler, The Creator, Childish Gambino, Foo Fighters, Red Hot Chili Peppers. There’s a guitar leaning against the wall next to the desk and a mess of CDs in a milk crate.

The other side of the room is less decorated. There are photos on the walls and, squinting, you can make out Sam in some of the pictures. This must be his and Joaquin’s room.

Thinking about Joaquin, memories of last night come rushing back. You groan and bury your face in the pillow, his pillow, as you remember how you kissed him. How he didn’t kiss you back.

You understand why he didn’t. He’s a self-proclaimed gentleman and would never do anything without your consent. You certainly weren’t in a state to consent last night. It should bring you comfort that he was so respectful, but that feeling is overshadowed by the burn of shame in your cheeks.

You’re brought out of your wallowing by the sound of the door creaking open. You look up to see Sam tiptoeing in, but he freezes when he sees you awake.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, whispering. You shake your head. “How’d you sleep?”

“Alright,” you respond groggily, voice thick with sleep.

“How’s the hangover?” he asks with a small chuckle. You groan as you sit up, which seems to be enough of an answer for him.

“How did I get here?” you ask.

“Joaquin and Buck practically carried you.” That’s so embarrassing.

You look down at yourself. “And the shirt?”

“You put that on yourself, don’t worry. Bucky didn’t want you to go to sleep in what you were wearing. I’ve never worn a bikini before, but they don’t look comfortable,” he jokes. “Do you want breakfast?”

The thought of eating makes your stomach churn, but you suppose something light might make you feel better. You agree to breakfast but as you slide out of bed, you realize you don’t have any bottoms on.

You pull on your denim shorts, which lay on the floor next to the bed, and Sam busies himself with his phone while you do. Once you’re presentable enough, you follow Sam downstairs.

Logan, Matt, and Bucky all sit at the counter eating breakfast while Frank stands at the stove. You slide onto the stool next to Logan, who gives you a gruff morning.

“There she is!” Bucky chuckles. “Little miss lightweight.”

He gets down from his stool and comes around to your side of the counter, leaning his muscular forearms on the marble so he is almost eye level with you. He has a teasing smile on his face and you know that it’s too early for whatever’s about to come out of his mouth.

“How ya feeling?” he asks.

“Fine,” you say, leaning your head against your hand.

“Yeah? That’s pretty good considering the way you were off your ass last night.”

“Bucky,” you groan.

“My shirt looks good on you,” he winks before pushing off the counter and returning to his breakfast.

“Buck, remember last semester when you threw up on that Phi Sig chick?” Logan asks.

You look up at him to see a small smirk on his lips. Bucky glares, obviously not pleased that Logan is sharing that embarrassing memory. You have to stifle your laughter.

“She was so pissed,” Frank adds as he slides a plate of scrambled eggs in front of you. He gives you a fork and you thank him, glad to have something in your stomach that isn’t alcohol.

As you eat, you listen to the boys bicker back and forth. You feel bad for Matt, who’s caught between Logan and Bucky. Sam stands at the end of the counter next to Bucky, eating a bowl of cereal, and observing.

“I’m just saying, you’re not one to judge how someone acts when they’re drunk,” Matt says.

“At least I don’t ask to touch girls' faces,” Bucky scoffs. That catches your attention.

“What?”

“It’s his signature move,” Frank says. “Says it helps him picture them or some bullshit.”

“It does!” Matt defends.

“Whatever,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes.

Having enough of the conversation, you clean up your dishes and slip out. On your way back upstairs to gather your things, you run into Karen coming out of the bathroom.

“Oh my god,” you gasp when you see her dressed similarly to you, in a large t-shirt that clearly belongs to Frank. Both of you giggle, trying to muffle the sounds.

“How was it?” you ask.

“No, you first.”

“No, no, I didn’t-”

“What? Then why are you,” she gestures to your shirt.

You hide your face in your hands. “I got too drunk and had to be carried to bed.”

“Oh no,” Karen laughs. You shouldn’t have expected to get sympathy from her.

“That’s not even the worst part. I kissed Joaquin.”

Karen’s mouth falls open, comically wide. “Oh my god.”

“I know,” you groan.

“Was it good? I mean, he’s hot.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. “I kissed him. He didn’t kiss me back because I was too drunk.”

“Yikes,” Karen sighs. “It could be worse though. He said you were too drunk, not that he didn’t want to. You know what you have to do now,” she says like you have any idea what she’s getting at. “You have to kiss him sober.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Why not? Obviously, you like him enough to throw yourself at him.”

“I’m not doing that,” you say. “Now tell me about your night!”

“Okay, okay,” she says, grinning ear to ear. “It was so amazing.”

“How big?” you ask, momentarily forgetting you’re in the house and not in your dorm room.

“Big,” she says. The look on her face tells you everything. “And he did this thing with his tongue-”

Before she could go into any more detail, Joaquin walks out of Bucky and Steve’s bedroom. He stops when he sees you both in the hallway, and you hope he didn’t hear what you were talking about.

“Morning, ladies,” he greets. He has that same charming smile he always does.

“Good morning,” you both respond.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks you.

“Oh, uh, good,” you say, suddenly feeling extremely awkward. “Thank you for helping me and everything. You didn’t have to give up your bed for me.”

“No worries,” he smiles. “Sam and I had a little sleepover with Wade and Logan.”

“Um… I’m sorry about last night. I was way out of line,” you say as you wring your hands.

“It’s okay,” he says, placing his hand on your wrist to stop your fidgeting. “Really. You were drunk and it’s just a heat of the moment kind of thing. It’s all good, I promise.”

Despite him reassuring you, you don’t really feel better. Yes, you were drunk and you kissed him, but you don’t want him to think you’re that kind of girl. Am I that kind of girl?

“Okay,” you say. It’s far too simple of a phrase to encapsulate everything you’re feeling, but you think it’s better to keep those feelings to yourself.

Joaquin gives your wrist a reassuring squeeze before brushing past you to go downstairs. Once he is out of sight, you relax a bit. You’re no longer in the mood to hear about Karen’s night with Frank, but you promise her she can tell you every dirty detail when you’re back in your room later.

You go back into Sam and Joaquin’s room to grab your bikini top and put on your shoes. You hope to get out of here as quickly as possible to save yourself from any more embarrassment that could come.

You go back downstairs and you almost successfully sneak out the door without anyone noticing, but your attention is caught by Steve’s voice. Steve’s and a woman’s voice.

“Can I see you later today?” he asks.

“Can’t. I have to rehearse for my ballet duet with my sister.”

You peek around the corner into the dining room and see Steve talking to a striking redhead. She’s wearing the clothes she likely wore last night and she somehow still looks beautiful. Her hair is messy in an effortless way, not like tangled bedhead. Sam also stands with them, so you assume she’s an upperclassman you’ve never crossed paths with.

“Some day you’re gonna get tired of pretty-blue-eyes and want to give tall-dark-and-handsome a try,” Sam chimes in. “You know what they say.”

The woman only laughs. “See you around, Steve.”

The dismissal makes Steve’s shoulders slump a bit. You’ve never seen him any way other than with his head held high.

Before you can attempt to hide, the woman walks past the staircase and out the door. She doesn’t see you, thankfully, but you get a good look at her. Her hair is shoulder length, a blunt and bold cut that makes her look like a model. And she does ballet. No wonder Steve is interested.

It makes something inside you ache with jealousy. Steve isn’t your boyfriend, and he’s never even hinted at being interested in you. The two of you just met and he obviously has a history with this woman.

Once she’s gone, you try to slip out the door, but Sam and Steve both catch you. Steve calls your name and you sigh, knowing he’s going to ask you about last night.

“Stealing Bucky’s shirt?” he asks instead.

“I don’t really want to walk home in a bikini,” you say.

“You might cause a couple of accidents on the way,” Sam jokes. You appreciate the compliment but after seeing that woman, you doubt he’s being genuine.

“I don’t know about that,” you say. “But I have to get back.”

The look on Steve’s face tells you he thinks you’re acting differently. It’s slightly humiliating that he notices something is wrong because you’re not hanging on his every word, but now isn’t the time to reflect on how enamored you’ve become by all of the guys.

“Okay,” Steve says. “Thank you for your help with the party, you did a really great job.”

“Thanks,” you respond, chancing a look into his gorgeous eyes.

“Will you be at the meeting tomorrow?” he asks as you turn your back.

“Yeah.”

“See ya, sweetheart,” Sam says as you walk out. You give them both a wave but don’t look back.

Once you’re a ways down the sidewalk, you let yourself think about how complicated your life has gotten in the past week. You drunkenly kissed Joaquin, Bucky is constantly trying to charm his way into your pants, Steve is so kind, Sam and Matt are charming and funny, Logan and Frank are protective, and you have so much in common with Wade.

How have you managed to fall for all of them so quickly? A better question is, how are you going to make it out of this without going insane or getting hurt?

[rika-mmendmethings]

Against Blood & Water l Sylus

Chapter 3

←CH 2 | CH 4→

Summary: Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For this chapter: mentions and drugs, stalking, first meeting with Mephisto

Word count: 2.1k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: New chapter every Thursday! The schedule for this and Interdimensional Epiphany has been switched! The reader comes across Elysium and its special dishes. Just who do you think could've sent that for her? This story is for the Sylus girlies' who consider Luke and Kieran their babies. A little information on the timeline: in this story, the reader is 35 with Luke and Kieran being 17. Sylus never felt like 28 to me, so he's a hot-ass 39-year-old man (bear with me). The timeline is a bit confusing, I know, but soon it'll be cleared, too. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me, and I'll try my best to give you a proper answer without revealing too much. Let me know if you wish to be added to the tag list for this series. ♥

Tag list: @babyx91 @pillarofsnow @beyond-the-stars-fairy @yuki-sama6 @sylviewrites @idiashusband @sadmonke @monophobix @lunarvolley @stxrrielle @fries11 @gremlinartstudio @lillycore @novthirty @animegamerfox @cathedralofaudra @nm4565natty @69-gojos-wife-69 @eolivy @namjoons-toenails @silverianni @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @justpassingdontworry @ruyaya @browneyedgirl22 @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @sneakysnakeysstuff @midiplier @calebs--pipsqueak @dana-nite @lazeriii @into-deepspace @nommingonfood @eden-axe

“They work for… who?” You choked on your drink, one hand clutching your chest as you struggled to regain control of your lungs.

Ginerva didn’t even spare you a glance. She continued wiping the glasses with an air of aloofness, repeating herself with unnerving calm. “Onchyinus. Luke and Kieran work directly under the leader of Onchyinus.”

You could barely breathe. You clenched your fist against your mouth, brows knitted tightly, body rigid with tension. The initial shock had worn off, and now, panic began to rise like an insidious tide in your chest, relentless and consuming.

Your entire day had been spent combing through the N109 Zone in search of any scrap of information about your twins. Every time you mentioned their crow-themed outfits, or their apparent role as some kind of henchmen, people recoiled as if you had spoken of demons. Some were visibly shaken, others too frightened to speak. But one thing remained constant: no one would offer you any answers. Despite your best efforts — and an obscene amount of money — they dismissed you, fear clouding their expressions.

It wasn’t until one particularly kind soul directed you to a hidden intel hub masquerading as a bar — Elysium — that you finally felt you were getting closer. The cost was steep, but you didn’t care. You handed over the money without hesitation.

The woman behind the counter — Ginerva, you learned — seemed surprised by your inquiry, but she hadn’t dismissed you outright. She’d been more than willing to share what she knew, though you were beginning to regret your pursuit.

Now, you rubbed your temples as the beginnings of a migraine pulsed beneath your skull. With the haze of shock still clouding your thoughts, you managed to ask, “Are you absolutely sure this information is accurate?”

Ginerva paused her task, her gaze sharp as she turned toward you. Her voice was flat, devoid of any warmth. “I’ve run this place for years.”

You didn’t argue. After all it’s better to not tell a professional about their profession, you had plenty of experience on that. Leaning back in your chair, you swirled the last of your drink around in the glass, trying to gather your thoughts. “How long have they worked for Onchyinus?”

Ginerva seemed to deliberate for a moment. “I’d say one or two years. Before that, their history is unknown.”

Your heart constricted painfully, and you swallowed the remainder of your drink in one go. The bitter liquid burned its way down your throat, but it did little to extinguish the fire of dread spreading through your chest. You would’ve preferred to think of your children being under Onchyinus’s wing from the start — if only to imagine they had been protected from the horrors of the streets. At least there would have been food, shelter, some semblance of care. Whatever twisted morality they’d adopted under the faction’s influence would have been easier to accept than the thought of them suffering alone, vulnerable to the world’s cruelties.

You shoved the guilt, raw and uninvited, back into the darkest corners of your mind. Now was not the time to revisit your worst nightmares. You needed a plan, a way to infiltrate the damned place, to find them.

You were deep in thought when a plate was suddenly set down in front of you by a small girl — probably Aislinn, Ginerva's niece. She handed you a menu displaying the day's special and said, “Today’s special is for the lady, and none other.” With that, she left, leaving you both perplexed and curious.

Today’s Special: Friend’s Incentive

Midnight black sesame tart, cacao nibs, bourbon-infused syrup, Victorian-era rhododendrons, and twin mirrors facing each other.

Description: Read the opposite.

A frown creased your brow as you read the menu again, trying to make sense of it. Friend’s Incentive? The idea that today’s special had been sponsored by someone specifically for you made no sense. You didn’t know a single person in the N109 Zone. You glanced down at the dish in front of you, and sure enough, a midnight black sesame tart sat in the center, garnished with cacao nibs and a dollop of what you presumed to be bourbon-infused syrup.

Next to the plate was a small bouquet of four orange rhododendrons, but something about it felt off. Three of the flowers were wrapped in newspaper, while the fourth one was left exposed, not inside the wrapping and attached to the bouquet only by a white ribbon. You blinked in confusion. What an unusual way to arrange a bouquet.

You shrugged off the oddities and took a large bite of the free dessert. The bittersweetness hit your taste buds immediately, making you scrunch your nose in reaction. You set your spoon down after finishing the dessert, but something in the back of your mind kept gnawing at you. You looked back at the menu, staring at it intently. It was bothering you. The more you examined it, the more it didn’t sit right.

Your mind, trained in law, began to analyze the situation more critically. A strange arrangement of flowers, a dessert meant only for you, and the vague description of the dish — there was something hidden here. One thing at a time, you told yourself. You needed to figure out what the description meant.

“Read the opposite.” But which word was the opposite? It couldn’t be the ingredients themselves, so it must be the title.

What, then, was the opposite of “Friend’s Incentive”? You pondered this for a moment and quickly pulled out your phone to check the most accurate antonyms for each word. For “friend,” the options were: enemy, nemesis, rival, and... fiend. For “incentive,” the antonyms included: damper, curb, hindrance, and... deterrent.

You paused as the realization hit. In this context, the most fitting opposite to “Friend’s Incentive” would be “Fiend’s Deterrent.”

Was this… a warning? Someone sinister could have sent you this to dissuade you from your path. The dessert, bittersweet, seemed to speak volumes. Could it imply that someone is sweetly telling you to step away before their patience turns bitter over a prolonged time? The odd arrangement of the flowers — one stray blossom hanging outside the wrapping, yet still tethered to the bouquet by a white ribbon — might suggest a complex message: they don’t want you to be part of something you are already entangled with, yet the bond remains, reluctantly. And the choice of flowers being rhododendrons — those flowers that, in Victorian floriography, symbolized danger, warning, and caution — was a direct message, a harbinger of something more ominous.

But what of the twin mirrors facing each other? What did that mean? Something connected to your children, perhaps, but it remained unclear, slipping just beyond your reach.

It somehow felt like it was all pointed to Luke and Kieran.

But who, exactly, was trying to steer you off course — and, more importantly, why?

You caught a glimpse of Aislinn walking past the corner, and instinctively, you called out to her. "Aislinn, who sponsored today's special?"

The little girl paused, shaking her head, her eyes downcast. "We aren’t allowed to disclose any personal information about our sponsors. Sorry." She offered a quick, apologetic smile before skipping away with her empty tray.

You sighed, folding the menu neatly and tucking it into your pocket. You snapped a few photos of the eerie bouquet, certain you'd need them as evidence to add to your ever-growing conspiracy board.

As you walked down the musty lanes of the street, the occasional sound of a wing flapping tickled your ear, followed by that unmistakable sensation — one which usually occurs when the opposition lawyer drilled holes in your head or in simpler terms, when you were being watched.

The events of today have only sharpened your caution and given the times you’ve been chased by goons of wealthy criminals so that you’d give up their cases — you were willing to take any measures for your safety if danger arose any moment now. You took shallow breaths, increasing your pace. Each step was deliberate, each turn smooth, as you made sharp corners, trying to lose the stalker in a maze of alleyways.

You had been running for a while when it became clear: your pursuer wasn’t human. It was most likely a drone or some mechanical contraption, a tool sent to monitor your every move. This deduction meant that actually catching said-stalking-object had very slim chances. 

You ducked behind a small billboard and pressed your clasped hands to your chest. In a matter of few seconds, you felt the familiar sense of clarity in your mind as your evol influenced all the possible outcomes, manipulating probabilities in your favor. 

A strained caw broke the silence, and your eyes immediately snapped to the source of the sound. There, perched on a streetlight, was a crow — except it wasn’t a crow at all. Its metallic sheen and erratic movements betrayed it for what it was: a mechanical bird.

You reached for your gun, drawing it with practiced ease, aiming at the strange creature. Your palms tingled as you steadied your aim and squeezed the trigger. The crow dropped from its perch in a graceful, fluid arc, landing with a muted thud.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slipping the gun back into its holster beneath your coat. You moved toward the fallen mechanical bird, your mind racing with questions about who would send such a thing after you.

Perks of having a probability evol was altering all chances of any kind of event in your favor and the bird at your feet, broken and twitching with its damaged wing, was a testament to that. 

You carefully picked up the mechanical bird, examining it with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. The bullet had torn through its left wing, but it still whirred faintly, as though alive and with the way it was cawing, you almost felt bad for the insentient being. But then again, someone had planted it on your back, intending to keep tabs on whatever you do, so you couldn’t brush this off easily. 

Without further hesitation, you stuffed the damaged bird into your handy tote bag and made your way back to your apartment. Once inside, you immediately locked all windows and doors, ensuring your sanctuary was secure.

The first thing you did after that was duct tape the bird to your newly constructed conspiracy board. As you affixed it with care, you added the unsettling polaroid of the bouquet and the menu you had pocketed, the items now firmly part of the growing puzzle you had yet to solve. You double-checked the bird, making sure it was securely taped in place, though you knew it wouldn’t be going anywhere with its broken wing.

After freshening up, you hurried back to your conspiracy board, a steaming bowl of cup noodles in hand. As your gaze fell upon your previous board — the one centered on exposing the infamous drug lord — you felt an undeniable wave of guilt cloud your thoughts. You had been supposed to gather enough evidence and bring the case to court as soon as possible, to deliver justice to the victims’ families. But here you were, tangled in a web of your own problems, dealing with something far more personal — your children.

On days like this, you couldn’t help but resent your profession. It never allowed you the luxury of selfishness. You rubbed your face in frustration, tears threatening to well in your eyes. Maybe you could juggle both cases? Pursue whichever lead came your way first? Surely, that could work... right? It had to.

You shoved your emotions aside and paced the room, your mind racing. Occasionally, you found yourself locking eyes with the mechanical bird — its red, beady gaze a constant reminder of the unknown forces circling you. After walking laps around your couch, an idea hit you like a lightning bolt. Without hesitation, you rushed to the bird, ripping it free from its tape restraints and inspecting it closely.

You noticed a small red LED light blinking beneath its talon. Years of experience told you immediately that it was a long-range tracker. 

That meant whoever had planted it on you knew exactly where it was at all times.

Before you could fully process this, a sharp knock at the door jolted you from your thoughts. Panic instantly flooded your system. You instinctively reached for your gun and inched closer to the door, heart hammering in your chest. Gods, was this it? Was this how it ended? And for all the legal battles you fought, you didn’t even have a will in place. 

Was fate going to rip you apart from your twins once again after all this time?

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[dark-fics-4-you]

Number One Fan ch. V

Dark!Stepbro!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), incest (step siblings), implied noncon, forced kissing, forced oral (m!recieving), fingering, semi public sex, drug mention, manipulation, controlling behavior, gaslighting, blackmailing, fainting, reader has ptsd like symptoms,

Previous Chapter

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you sat in Ward’s study, finding it much easier to look at your shoes than meet the eyes of your angry step father.

“Are you going to tell me what really happened yesterday? Because Rafe already did, and now I want to give you a chance to explain yourself, Y/N.”

Unwanted memories flashed through your mind.

Watching your brother slam his fists into JJ’s face, the way it felt when Rafe had pinned you to the bed, and how your head had spun when he slapped you. You shuddered as you recalled the feeling of him forcing himself inside of you for the first time and how awful it felt went he kissed you.

You didn’t want to think about the sticky feeling of his cum oozing out of you after he pulled out.

You could only lie on the bed in shock when it was over. Rafe had to carry you to the shower, holding you up as he washed you and you tried to ignore how his hands wandered across your soapy body, squeezing your tits and ass while your numb tears mixed with the water from above.

Before that night, you had loved falling asleep next to your step brother. You loved the sense of comfort, safety, and peace that he always gave you.

Yesterday night, however, you felt terrified and tense as you lay next to the man who had just broken your trust and assaulted you. Rafe had insisted on sleeping naked, leaving you on high alert, so scared that he was going to try to initiate something that you couldn’t relax.

Even worse was knowing that if you did fall asleep next to him, he might force himself onto you anyways.

Every time he shifted in his sleep, every time he pulled you closer, or wrapped his strong arms around you tighter, your heart rate spiked, sure that he was awake and had decided that one time wasn’t enough.

After an almost sleepless night, you cracked your eyes open and felt Rafe stirring beside you.

“Good morning, Y/N/N,” he mumbled, his voice lowered from just waking up.

You had started shifting away from him when his arm wrapped around you, pulling you in to his warm chest. His hand found your chin, tilting your face towards his before his lips captured yours.

When you struggled against him, you felt his lips curl into a small grin and he chuckled before covering your lips with his again, this time sliding his hand to hold the back of your head in place.

His other hand found your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, and you were disgusted when you felt yourself getting wet.

Rafe broke the kiss, staring into your eyes for a few moments before he slowly sat up in bed and started grabbing his clothes.

“We should probably start heading back. Don’t want Ward and Rose getting too suspicious.”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief at his words, anxious to return to land and get far away from your step brother.

Rafe’s eyes burned into your back as you dressed quietly, putting on the outfit that you had worn the day before, already formulating plans on how you could burn the clothes.

You didn’t want to be reminded of last night every time you looked at them.

Before Rafe could finish up in the bedroom, you quickly exited, walking up the stairs to the main deck and leaning on a railing to watch the rising sun reflect off of the water below you.

How could you possibly have a normal life after this?

How could you go on about your day, knowing that the brother you had always trusted, the one who had lived just down the hall from you for 10 years, was capable of so much cruelty?

Sensing a presence from behind, you spun around to face him as Rafe hooked his arm around your back, holding you against his chest before grinning wolfishly and leaning down to smother your lips with his own.

With the railing at your back along with his arm locked tight around you, there was nowhere to go as you squirmed helplessly in his grasp.

Rafe’s tongue forced its way into your mouth and you almost gagged. He held you in place for what felt like an eternity before finally releasing you.

The blond grinned down at you wickedly before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and tugging you towards the bottom deck. He glanced at his watch, clicking his tongue before chuckling darkly.

“Just enough time for a quickie.”

When you finally got back to Tannyhill, feeling sore and used, and utterly repulsed by your step brother, you couldn’t get out of his truck fast enough.

Thankfully, you didn’t see anyone as you came in and you quietly, but quickly, rushed up the stairs before entering your bedroom, locking the door, ripping your clothes off, taking a scorching shower as you tried to wash the scent of your brother off of you, and then collapsing onto your bed in exhaustion.

You must have slept for several hours however, because when you were finally awoken by a knock at your door, the sky outside your window was growing orange and red as the sun began to set.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” You recognized Sarah’s voice and you sat up in bed.

“Yeah, one second,” you forced your hoarse voice to project enough for her to hear, climbing out of your bed and walking to your dresser to grab a change of comfy clothes.

You opened your door with a timid smile that Sarah worryingly exchanged.

“Are you okay? What happened last night?”

You anxiously looked down the hall to see if Rafe was lurking nearby before sighing and fidgeting with your fingers as you attempted to find your voice.

“Um.. I’d rather not talk about it, Sarah.”

Your step sister looked confused as she tried to get a read on your face.

“But, um, is JJ okay?” You asked nervously.

“Rafe broke his nose and he’s bruised pretty bad but he’ll be okay. He’s been asking about you nonstop, all the Pogues have. They were really scared when we told them what happened.”

You looked down at the ground feeling guilty. You knew that Rafe was the one who had initiated it, but JJ wouldn’t have been jumped like that if you hadn’t been talking to him. Rafe fought with the Pogues all the time, but last night was different.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sarah’s question surprised you, and you realized there were tears welling in your eyes.

“Um…. Could we go to your room to talk?”

Sarah’s room had always been a comfort to you before you and Rafe got super close, and you did enjoy your sister’s company a lot.

“Sure, of course, Y/N.” She pulled you into a hug, which you returned, enjoying the lightness her presence was bringing you.

You tensed however when you cracked your eyes open to see Rafe emerging from his room behind her.

You averted your eyes immediately, heart rate picking up as you released Sarah and she turned to see Rafe.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I really do not understand your problem with JJ at all,” she spat at him turning to you and expecting you to join in.

Rafe’s eyes fell on you and you watched the corner of his lips threatening to pull into a smirk of amusement.

You swallowed dryly, remembering the sensation of his backhand whipping your head to the side and the dizziness that followed.

“I really wanted to make this special for you,” his nasally voice taunted you.

Your breath grew faster and harder to catch as your vision grew fuzzy around the edges.

“Y/N?” Sarah’s voice was muffled, like she was speaking to you through a tunnel

You felt lightheaded and sick, and you were lucky that you were standing by Sarah and not Rafe because she was the one to catch you when your knees buckled beneath you.

The two of them had a short argument that you couldn’t hear above you before Rafe’s arms wrapped around your limp body and carried you to Sarah’s room.

You tried to ignore the feeling of his fingers brushing over your exposed skin as he lay you down on Sarah’s bed. Sarah’s face appeared in your line of vision and she said something that you couldn’t hear before both of them left the room.

The last thing you saw was Sarah returning a minute later with a cool washcloth that she pressed to your warm forehead.

She was talking to you again, and you tried to grasp at her words, to understand any of them, but your body felt weighed down and you fell into the black abyss of sleep quickly.

…

You woke to the sound of an argument on the other side of the door. Sarah, Rafe, and Ward were screaming at each other.

“She wouldn’t do that, Rafe!”

“Don’t act like you know her so well! You’d be surprised.”

“Both of you just calm the fuck down!” Ward yelled and they became silent. “Sarah go see if she’s awake yet.”

The door to her room cracked open and light from the hall made you sit up in bed.

“What’s going on?” You met Sarah’s tear filled eyes first, then the angry eyes of Ward, your confused mother’s eyes, and then finally Rafe’s, who was standing behind all of them wearing a vindictive smile only you could see.

“Get out of bed and come to my office right now, Y/N,” Ward sternly commanded you.

Your heart leapt to your throat, confusion pulsing through your veins.

What the fuck is going on right now?

Without a word, you followed Rafe, Sarah, Rose, and Ward to his office, where he gestured for you to sit down before staring you down in silence.

“Ward?” You nervously asked. “Rose?”

“Are you going to tell me what really happened yesterday? Because Rafe already did, and now I want to give you a chance to explain yourself, Y/N.”

You tensed, anxiously looking over at Rafe who was watching you with a small smirk.

He wouldn’t have told them about what happened yesterday, that would have been insane, right??

“I- I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your step father sighed before reaching into his pocket and pulling out three small bags of coke.

“Do you want to explain to me why Rafe and I found these in your room today, Y/N?”

Your heart stopped, jaw dropping open in disbelief as you stared at Ward.

“Th-those aren’t fucking mine! Ward you know I don’t do that!” You would have laughed if you didn’t feel so sick right now.

“Rafe was the one who told me, he said you asked him for some, and when he wouldn’t give it to you, you went to the Pogues.”

“Dad, I already told you, none of the Pogues use or sell coke!” Sarah shouted at him and he silenced her with a furious look.

“They aren’t mine, Ward! Rafe probably just got too high and forgot where he stashed his!” You threw a pointed look at your brother who was just behind Ward and Sarah, watching on with a mirthful smirk.

“If it was mine, don’t you think I would’ve just, I don’t know, taken them?” His casual tone made you want to scream. “Why would I hide it in your room?”

“Maybe because you’re a fucking cokehead,” you spat at him.

“Takes one to know one,” he shot back and you huffed in frustration. He looked at his father and Rose before faking concern, “She’s probably high right now.”

“God! Ward, please, Rafe nearly killed JJ yesterday! He would have, if I didn’t push him off of him. He’s lying to you!” You looked over to Rose, who met your eyes with sadness. “Mom, tell me you don’t believe this too!”

“I wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t been selling to my little sister.” Rafe sniped.

You bit your tongue as you glared at him, trying to not let your anger get the best of you. Tears burned at your eyes before slowly starting to fall past your lashes.

Looking at Ward and your mother again, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Ward, I swear to you, that coke isn’t mine. I promise that it’s not mine. JJ is just my friend, he’s not a dealer. Rafe planted it there! You have to believe me.” You were crying harder now despite your efforts to stop.

Ward just shook his head in disappointment, “You just fainted earlier today out of nowhere! What was that? I’ve heard this a thousand times. You sound exactly like Rafe the very first time I caught him. Rafe? I’ve come to expect this of him. But from you? Y/N, I thought you were better than this.”

You didn’t miss the scowl that crossed Rafe’s features at Ward’s words, and you realized that, even though you were the one on the receiving end of Ward’s criticism instead of Rafe for the first time, Ward still couldn’t help but put his son down too as he scolded you.

“From now on I will expect you to cease communication with all of those Pogues and you’re to be back in this house by 9PM every night. No exceptions. I can’t have you going out to god knows where.”

Your heart clenched at that, frustration threatening to bubble over into rage.

“Dad, come on, you’re being completely unreasonable!” Sarah shouted. “Y/N is not getting drugs from our friends!”

“Be quiet, Sarah, I wasn’t done.” Ward snapped at her. “I don’t want either of you hanging out on the Cut with those Pogues. And that goes for John B too.”

His gaze fixed on yours again, “give me your phone.”

“What?!”

“You’ll get it back tomorrow, don’t worry, but I need to have your location at all times. I can’t trust you after this, Y/N. You know how it is with…” Ward stopped himself from finishing his sentence, but everyone in the room knew exactly who he meant and you saw Rafe’s jaw tick in annoyance again.

Ward dismissed you and you ignored Rose and Sarah when they tried to talk to you in the hallway, instead choosing to rush to your room, slamming your door and grabbing a pillow to scream into.

When you arrived at the dinner table the next day and saw the only empty seat available, your heart sank.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself before taking your seat next to Rafe, trying intensely to find interest in the otherwise ordinary pot roast on your plate to avoid looking over at your step brother.

Ward and your mother were already in the middle of a conversation and Sarah gave you a sympathetic smile when she noticed how uncomfortable you looked next to Rafe. Wheezie, who was completely oblivious to your argument with Ward, asked Sarah a question, diverting her attention away from you.

Rose turned to you, somewhat awkwardly, and inquired about your next semester. “Do you already know what classes you’re going to be taking?”

Despite the obvious tension that was still thick in the air between all of you, you appreciated your mom making an effort at least.

“I think I’m registered for Photography 3, Art History 3, Math, and a writing class. Maybe one more Gen Ed that I’m forgetting right now.”

“Ooh Photography is going to be fun for you, I bet! Remember when you used to take photos at Rafe’s football games? I always thought that was so cool,” Rose cheerily said.

“Um. Yeah, well we’ll see about his upcoming season. Maybe.”

“You and your friend, Mary used to go all the time didn’t you? Oh you two used to be so close.”

“Yeah well ever since she moved to-” you cut yourself off with a small gasp when you felt Rafe’s fingers grip your upper thigh before inching between your legs.

You couldn’t believe how brazen he was to do this at the dinner table in front of the entire family.

You squirmed uncomfortably, lightly slapping his hand quietly before clearing your throat, “Ever since Mary moved to New Orleans for college, we haven’t been talking as much.”

Your older step brother seemed determined to get a reaction out of you however, brushing past your silent protests to fit his hand between your legs. Your eyes widened and you shifted in your seat again as Rafe’s fingers danced past the fabric of your shorts and panties. When he dipped the tip of his finger inside of you, you had to bite your lip to stop from whimpering.

“Y/N?”

You realized that Rose was looking at you with a puzzled expression and she must have asked you another question.

“Um, what?” Your mouth felt dry, mind racing as you squeezed your thighs together, trying to get Rafe’s wandering hands off of you without raising the attention of your family. Your cheeks felt so hot, you were sure they could notice.

When you felt him push his finger deeper, forcing himself inside your slick walls past his knuckle, and beginning to stretch you out around his ring, a whimper slipped past your lips and you quickly coughed trying to cover up the sound.

“What is going on with you, young lady?” Ward asked, his patience with you clearly waning at your outbursts.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you’re acting weird,” Rafe’s teasing tone was lost on everyone but you. And you loudly cursed when his finger twitched, curling inside of you to get more of a rise out of you.

“Fuck-!” Your chair scraped loudly as you pushed yourself away from the table and stood up.

Your entire family was staring at you now as you tried to correct your uneven breathing.

“I- I think I’m gonna be sick,” was all you managed before you stumbled from the dining room before running up the stairs to your room.

For a moment your family stared at each other in shocked confusion.

Rafe was the first to break the silence.

“She’s probably just going through withdrawals, lemme see if there’s any way I can help.” He stood from his chair, leaving his plate on the table.

“Should we come with you?” Rose offered, getting ready to stand before Rafe waved his hand, ‘no’

“Nah, I think she just needs her brother.”

Rafe put an ear to your door, opening it quietly and stepping inside after hearing a retching sound coming from your bathroom.

He closed the door behind himself, locking it gently, before following the faint light from the cracked door where the sounds had stopped and been replaced by you scrubbing down the inside of your mouth with a tooth brush.

When he knocked on the door, he heard you sigh before spitting out the rest of your toothpaste.

“Sarah, I don’t want to talk-” you had opened the door a bit, but you suddenly paused when you saw Rafe, tensing and shrinking in on yourself.

You tried to close your bathroom door, but Rafe’s hand shot out, easily outdoing the all strength you had put behind trying to keep him out. He pushed the door open and you backed up against the counter in fear.

When he shut the door behind him and locked it, your stomach lurched.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Rafe?” You hissed before lowering your voice for your next words, “why are you doing this now? When any of them could catch us?”

Your older step brother smirked, taking a step towards you and enjoying your distress at him bursting into your room.

“I think that would be your fault, sweetheart.”

He moved so fast you barely had time to react, pressing himself against you before both hands came to your shoulders, shoving you to your knees. You hit the ground painfully, letting out a whimper before meeting Rafe’s eyes as he loomed above you.

“Y’just can’t keep that pretty mouth shut, can you?” One of Rafe’s hands tangled into your hair, holding you beneath him, as the other found the button and zipper of his shorts, fumbling to undo them as quick as possible before pushing them down to his ankles.

“No, Rafe, please don’t!”

His boxers were next to go, and your pleading was cut off when he tugged you forward by your hair and forced his cock between your lips.

The salty taste made you want to gag, and you had to stretch your lips more to accommodate his size, flattening your tongue to the bottom of your jaw.

Startled, you tried to gasp for air, giving him access to slowly push himself deeper, his cock nudging the back of your throat, staying there and choking you until your pleading eyes went wide, tears beginning to build up along your waterline.

“You can take it, Y/N/N,” he whispered and you were confused when his encouragement made your clit tingle and butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

Rafe tilted his hips back, sliding himself out enough to allow you to take a much needed breath, but your relief was short lived when his grip on your hair tightened and he pushed his cock to the back of your throat again.

His thrusts were steady at first, and every time you choked or gagged on his cock when he pushed you too far, he let out a soft groan, fingers twitching in your hair as he played out his sick fantasies with you.

Despite already stealing your virginity away from you, watching you pathetically crying on your knees and choking on his cock was just another level of degradation. The fact that he was taking yet another first from you made this all the more thrilling for him.

The initial panic had worn off inside of you, all you could do now was focus on breathing through your nose and trying not the throw up from the feeling of your step brother’s dick sliding across your tongue and kissing the back of your throat.

His speed picked up and Rafe ignored you when you slapped at his leg in a desperate attempt for him to slow down.

Tears were steadily rolling down your red tinged cheeks now along with some spit that had escaped the corner of your lips due to Rafe’s brutal pace.

A sudden knock at the door made Rafe freeze, and he rolled his eyes and let out a quiet groan of frustration when he heard Sarah’s concerned voice.

“Y/N? Are you doing alright?”

“We’re fine!” Rafe snapped at her dismissively.

“I want hear that from, Y/N.” Sarah replied.

Rafe sighed before sliding his cock out of your mouth and leaning down to order you quietly.

You quietly caught your breath, pulse racing as you desperately willed Sarah to come in and help you.

“Tell our dumbass sister what a good job I’m doing cheering you up and then tell her to fuck off,” he hissed into your ear, his hot breath made you shiver.

You hesitated before Rafe yanked on your hair again and you bit back a yelp.

“I’m fine, Sarah, r-really. Rafe is um- helping me take care of it.” You struggled to keep your shaky voice under control.

Sarah was silent for a moment before her voice came from the other side of the door, “are you sure? You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m f-fine, I promise. I was just throwing up a bit.” You despised lying to her right now, especially considering how much help you actually did need in this moment.

“Yeah, she’d appreciate some privacy, Sarah,” Rafe snipped.

“Okay, Y/N, if you’re sure..” her voice trailed off and you knew she had left when you heard your bedroom door close.

Rafe wasted no time in grabbing your chin and forcing your mouth open before shoving his cock past your plump lips.

You slapped his thigh and he grunted, fingers lacing through your hair and sliding your lips back and forth on his cock as he stood still.

“Fuck-” he breathed through gritted teeth, his hips starting to move impulsively, thrusting forward when he pulled you in and forcing himself deeper down your throat.

When his fingers pulled at your hair again, holding you in place as he frantically fucked your throat, you knew he was close.

You took a gasping breath when he pulled his cock out. His hand wrapped around his length, stroking himself until white burst from the tip, splattering your face.

You closed your eyes as ropes of cum painted your lips, cheeks, and chin. The sticky sensation made your skin crawl and you felt like you were going to throw up again.

Disgust and humiliation boiled in your gut. You just wanted to disappear.

The sound of a camera lens snapping made your eyes split open.

Rafe chuckled when you registered the phone in his hand, turning the screen around to show you the degrading picture he had just taken.

“Y’ know,” he sniffed, looking over his shoulder at the closed door behind him. “I uh, wouldn’t tell anybody about this if I were you.”

Your stomach dropped at his words. You could feel any last chances you might have of rescue from your step brother slipping through your fingers.

“I’d just hate it if you decided to mess up your future over this.” You couldn’t stand the way he was speaking as if he was giving you any kind of choice in this situation. “You understand, right?”

Staring at up at your older brother from your knees as you watched him nonchalantly pull his shorts back up and discuss blackmailing you, as if this was all just a petty fight over nothing made you want to scream.

But you bit your tongue, not seeing any other choice but to agree with him.

“Yeah… I understand.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked over your defeated face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at seeing your pretty face painted with his cum.

“You should probably clean yourself up. Sarah’s still waiting on you.”

[yoonkles]

sigh. feeling angsty. read tags first for TW ppl

SaneObaGiyuu but tragic. Tomioka is so in love with them and they’re so in love with him but a part of him just can’t believe it. Why him? What does he have? What can he give to such a relationship? What has he done to deserve this? Why do they want him?

And then he thinks maybe they don’t want him. Maybe they thought they did at first but now the initial attraction has worn off and he’s stuck in the middle of it. Maybe Sanemi and Obanai want out but they don’t know how to leave. Tomioka spirals. And we all know Tomioka, He likes to hide from things. He pulls away. He can’t help it. They invite him out to dinner and all he can think is that it’s just a convenience invite, they’ll be happier without him there, the food will taste better without his dull presence. He leaves letters unopened and unanswered because he can’t bare the sight of an empty confession, of emotionless words and reminders that he is so wholly unloveable.

And neither Obanai nor Sanemi are stupid. They can feel the difference in their lover. They know that he stills loves them, he still looks at them with that twinkle in his eye that nobody else has the privilege of seeing. But he’s not himself anymore. They don’t see his tiny little smile anymore. He’s getting paler, avoiding the sunlight like a plague, like he’s not going outside as much. SaneOba have quiet talks between themselves. Wondering what to do, how to confront this behavior, if this can be fixed. They don’t want to lose Tomioka.

So, they try. They show up at his house, both alone and together, they reject missions and neglect their own needs all for Tomioka. Because they don’t care how much sleep they’re lacking or how many times they’ve missed training, something is wrong with their love and they need to fix it, whatever it is.

For a brief period of time, things go back to normal. Tomioka sees them trying and its like a switch flicks inside of him- they are trying because they want to, because they want him. He reciprocates the effort. He makes them breakfast after they spend the night and then dinner before they travel back to their own homes. He shows up to their trainings with towels and a change of clothes. He laughs a bit more and he sunbathes in his front yard while they bicker about nothing in particular. They say I love you and he says it back. I love you, too.

But a cycle is just that. An end is just a beginning and the beginning is an end in and of itself. It could be a mission that includes Sanemi and Obanai but excludes Tomioka. Or it could be a snide remark from another rank, sticking their nose into business it doesn’t belong in. it could be an eyeroll from Sanemi or a scoff from Obanai. but somewhere along the way something happens and Tomioka is once again awake at three in the morning with a weight on his chest. There’s a pressure behind his eyes and a pit in his stomach. He doesn’t want this to happen again. He was getting so much better. Why does this always happen to him? Why can’t he be normal, accept love without question? Is there something wrong with him? Fundamentally, cosmically wrong?

He spirals. It's just like before. But this time there’s no one there to keep his head above water. Sanemi and Obanai are sent on a mission. Tanjiro and Nezuko haven’t seem him in months. The other Hashira barely tolerate him as it is. He is alone. And he sinks.

It only takes a few days. The feeling of his sword against his wrists isn’t as unnerving as he thought it would be.

In a few days time, the crows of the Demon Slayer Corp receive a message. Kanzaburou caws solemnly. The news travels fast.

It reaches the Hashira residing at the estate first. Shinobu, Rengoku, and Himejima. The birds swarm above them, and for an oblivious second, they think there’s a mission. Then, Attention, Hashira! Tomioka Giyuu, the water pillar, has been found dead in his estate!

And there’s a silence between the three. Maybe it’s the shock. Maybe it’s the wording. Dead. In his estate. They listen to the message repeat two, three times more before it sets in. One of them is dead. Shinobu is the first to start moving. Rengoku and Himejima follow closely.

Next, is Tengen, who relaxes at home with his wives milling about. He can hear his crow from miles away. When the bird doesn’t say anything until it lands on a window perch, is when Tengen knows something is wrong. The words ring throughout the house. Tomioka Giyuu has been found dead. One of his wives drops a cup. It shatters on the floor. Tengen flinches.

Mitsuri is training when she’s delivered the news. She snaps her wooden sword in two. She can’t accept it- and- and then she thinks- Obanai. Sanemi. She doesn’t thinks she’s ever cried so hard before, and she doesn’t think she ever will again.

Sanemi and Obanai are on their way back from a long, hard mission. They talk amongst themselves once in awhile, hands grasped and swaying. They’re making their way back to Tomioka’s house, grateful to finally see their lover after weeks apart. Though, they’re worried, undoubtedly so. Tomioka hasn’t sent a letter in days. They wonder if perhaps he has been sent on a mission and hasn’t been able to write, yet. They miss him. They can’t stop talking about him, about seeing him again. Sanemi plans to cook the three of them dinner and Obanai talks of taking Tomioka on a walk.

When they’re only two miles away, there’s a rustle in the trees. Both of them tense. The adrenaline inside them is still pumping, muscles long overworked from slaying demons. They both keep their eyes keen on the tree line. Only, instead of a sneak attack, out flies a crow.

It’s an estate one, not assigned to any specific slayer. It sqwuaks once, then twice, circling above them like a bad omen. Sanemi’s heart jumps into his throat and Obanai swallows harshly. Something’s wrong. They can feel it.

Attention, Hashira! Tomioka Giyuu, the water pillar, has been found dead in his estate!

The world is ripped from beneath their feet. They can’t- they can’t breathe. Their throats are closing up and their lungs are squeezing and nothing feels real. Neither of them move. They’re stuck infinitely in the place they are, where their feet meet the ground. One step in front of a time where Tomioka was still alive and forced to take another step into a time where he is not.

They don’t look at each other. Their hands fall from each other’s touch. They both begin to run.

They are the first to reach the estate. The body.

Sanemi breaks down the front door with a shaky leg and a bruised shoulder. Obanai grabs him by his uniform and drags him inside and they’re both stumbling through the living room. They ignore the silence because they have to, because if they focus too much on it then they don’t think they’ll be able to keep walking.

The kitchen is empty and so are the closets and the patio and the bathroom. While Sanemi is kicking at a closed door in frustration, Obanai’s feet stop in front of the closed off bedroom. He knows what’s behind it. Sanemi does too, because instead of kicking that closed door, he stomps over to kick this one instead. He’s angry, though Obanai can see through it clearly.

“I swear to god, you better open this fucking door, G-..” He says, and then he cuts himself off, because his voice is wavering and he can’t say that name. Not yet.

Obanai twists the knob open instead. He can’t bear the nerves. He needs to see for himself. He won’t believe it if he doesn’t.

Tomioka sits splayed against the furthest wall. His head is slumped over on to his shoulder and his eyes are closed. His hair is untied and greasy and wisps across his forehead. His haori is neatly folded next to him, with his shoes tucked away as well.

His wrists are cut up to his inner elbow. The blood that spills from them has long since dried.

Sanemi drops to his knees and the only way Obanai is able to stay upright is the utter shock keeping him rigid. Silent, hot tears begin to fall. They don’t look away from the body- the body of their lover.

This is how they’re found five minutes later, when the other pillars begin to arrive. Shinobu, Rengoku, and Himejima are first. Tengen and Mitsuri arrive seconds later.

It’s not enough, it feels too empty. The simplest, quietest gasp from Shinobu is what knocks Sanemi and Obanai from their stupor.

They scramble and trip and stumble to Tomioka like there’s still time, like there’s still someway to save him. The rest of the Hashira are stilled in silence, unable to find something to do or say, unable to stop their friends. Obanai grabs at his lover's arms and tries to push the sliced skin back together. Sanemi’s clammy palms grabs at his paper white cheeks and checks his pulse.

When he finds none, he screams. He sucks in a breath and he digs his face into Tomioka’s chest and he screams.

Obanai finally begins to register that the dried blood on his hands will never wash off. He will forever be stained the same way he was stained all those decades ago when they first sliced his lips open. He falls from his ankles to his knees and nestles the palm of Tomioka’s hand to his cheeks with a cry.

The Hashira don’t know what to do. They stand at the doorway and they watch the blood smear and the tears fall. They listen to sobs so anguished that it burns into their memory. Himejima begins to pray but the words are muffled over the loudness of grief.

Getting the cold body away from Sanemi and Obanai proves to be difficult. They lash out and attack indiscriminately at their peers. They draw swords and scream threats and crowd around Tomioka’s body like a lion does a carcass.

Shinobu has to be brought tranquillizers from the butterfly estate. Only after it’s administered do Sanemi and Obanai finally collapse in on themselves.

Mitsuri and Himejima watch over them solemnly as Tengen, Rengoku, and Shinobu wrap up Tomioka’s body in a white sheet.

The funeral is worse than the day of Tomioka’s death, if that’s even possible. The Kamado siblings are finally made aware of the situation, along with the group of friends they acquaint themselves with. The former water Hashira, Urokodaki, is also informed. Genya finds out through Himejima.

The turmoil is immense. Tanjiro is inconsolable. He is barely able to stand upright as he rushes through Butterfly Estate’s doors. Zenitsu and Inosuke are following closely behind him, with Nezuko hiding away in her box. They say they’ve been running for a day and a half straight after receiving the news. That there must be some kind of mistake, that their crow has mistranslated the words, that it can't be true.

The quiver in Tanjiro’s voice when he asks- Is Giyuu-san here? Can we see him?- is enough for Shinobu to break her facade. A tear slips down her cheek as she takes the three boys and the demon girl into a back room where Tomioka’s body lay prepped for the funeral.

The cries that come after she closes the door echo around the entire estate. They don’t stop.

Urokodaki arrives later that day. He’s wearing his mask as he bows to the Hashira, and they bow back. Sanemi and Obanai avoid his gaze. They can’t look him in the eye, they can’t even look in his direction. Hearing his voice makes them flinch. They can’t handle this- they can’t do this- they can’t face the effects of their failure.

Urokodaki asks a question as well, once formalities are finished. Where’s my son? He asks, quietly, hushed. Sanemi and Obanai begin to sob. The former water Hashira joins them.

Genya.... tries. He watches, at first, from a distance. Ever since he first heard the news, He’s been watching. Keeping his eyes trailed on his grieving brother. His ‘Nemi. His sweet, protective older brother who won’t stop screaming his tears and wrecking the training grounds. Genya is scared. He’s completely terrified that maybe this is the breaking point. That Sanemi won’t be able to take anything more after this.

Genya doesn’t say it out loud, but thinks his brother is going to kill himself.

Death, as always, drives people apart. It’s the catalyst, the very foundation of loss. The Hashira are not exempt to this.

Sanemi and Obanai are not exempt to this. Tragedy breeds resentment and resentment only grows. They push each other away. It feels too wrong, too out of place to be together, to be in the same room, to eat the same meal. There’s something missing. There will always be something missing.

There is no messy eater sitting between them at dinner. There is no quiet chuckles during their bickering. There is no half-read book sitting on their nightstand, there is no extra pair of shoes at their door, there is no soft whispers of I love you both before they drift to sleep.

There is no Tomioka. There will never be Tomioka again.

And without Tomioka, they don’t think there can be a them.

At the urgent orders of their master, the remaining Hashira take shifts keeping diligent eyes on the wind and snake pillars. It’s not an order they need- the growing concern among them is enough.

Rengoku and Tengen train with Sanemi. Mitsuri drags Obanai along to a picnic at her estate every other day. Himejima visits them both every morning, meal, and night to pray. Shinobu sits in silence, or watches from a spot in the trees, any chance she gets.

Tanjiro writes to the two pillars daily. He might not have had the best impression of them at first, but he knows loss intimately. He knows they are grieving. He is, too.

Genya reaches out to his brother as often as he can. Obanai, as well. Neither of them often answer the door. But he’s okay with just sitting outside and talking. Even if most times, he’s simply talking to himself.

Despite everything, despite it all, there is a certain truth to the universe. An end is a beginning and a beginning is an end. And Tomioka’s cycle does not end with him. Loss does not end, nor will it ever. it takes and it takes and it never stops taking.

Sanemi kills himself three weeks after Tomioka’s funeral. He lays down at his lover’s grave and sends his crow to apologize to Obanai. Genya is the first to find his body.

Obanai is not a strong man. He never has been. He has lost everything and everyone and he does not know how he’s made it this far in life. He gets the news of Sanemi’s death within the hour. And... he thinks this is it. He does not want to make it any further. Not when he’s alone, not like this.

Fearing for his child, Master Kagaya sends Tengen, the fastest of the Hashira, to the snake pillar’s estate at once.

When he arrives, Obanai is already swinging above a tipped over chair.

The two bodies are later buried on either side of Tomioka. Because there is no them if it is not all three.

The cycle continues.

[innerfare]

Scars - Sabo  

Summary: Sabo has been feeling a little insecure since he met you; a short drabble

Genre: A little fluffy, a little angsty

CW: None // SFW

Word Count: 890

———

Sabo never felt insecure about his scars before he met you. 

Scars were badges of honor, something to be worn with pride. They were a sign that he had stared down foes and persevered, that he had fought and lived, that he had experience under his belt and was a man to be respected. And the scar on his face, in particular, was something to be proud of, given to him by a Celestial Dragon. Not many people could claim they had survived an encounter with a World Noble, certainly not when they were a mere child. 

Sabo was young, but he was a battle-hardened revolutionary soldier under the tutelage of Monkey D. Dragon himself. He had run away from home at a young age and trained alongside some of the most fearsome pirates of his age in the wilderness. And yet, he stared into the mirror with a forlorn look on his face, a boy uncertain of himself. 

He didn’t have acne- he was lucky in that regard- and Ivankov always told him he was a pretty boy, something he had disdained initially but was now grateful for. Or was that wrong? Did girls like pretty boys? Did you? Or was he right to scorn the nickname? 

He ran his fingers through his blonde hair. It was soft, and blonde- did you like blonde? His lifetime of training had left him lithe and muscled, and even though his face was pretty, his shoulders and hands were quite masculine. Was that enough? Did you like that? 

He let out a heavy sigh, thinking it didn’t matter. No amount of prettiness or manliness would get rid of the scar on his face, and a lifetime of training had not prepared him to stand on his own two feet when you were in the same room as him, when you made eye contact with him across the table and offered him that soft smile, when you said his name to get his attention. 

His meltdown in front of his bathroom mirror had been triggered by you giving him half of the chocolate chip cookie you had been eating with your afternoon tea. He’d barely choked it down, not because it tasted bad, but because his stomach was flipping with what he could only describe as inadequacy. 

The fear of you secretly disliking it when he was in the same room as you, detesting the lopsided smile he always threw back at you, and despising the sound of his voice when he said your name made his piping hot blood run as cold as ice. 

He scrubbed his hand over the scar as if it might wipe off. He had many more beneath his collar, but at least he could hide those beneath clothes. The one on his face was visible for all to see and, unfortunately, permanent. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at his bedroom door. 

Sabo jumped, knocked out of his thoughts by the sound. With a huff, he stalked out of the bathroom and went for the bedroom door, pulling it open. “Yeah? What?” 

“I’m sorry to bother you,” came your sweet voice. 

Sabo blinked down at you in shock. Every ounce of annoyance left his body at the sight of you standing there with his jacket in hand, shifting back and forth on your feet as though uncertain, probably because he had opened the door in such a mood. 

“You left this behind. I thought you might want it back.” 

He stared at the jacket in your hand, thinking how foolish he’d been to take it off in the meeting room. You had been in the meeting room, after all; what if he had rolled up his sleeves without thinking twice and flashed some more of his scars? A grim expression settled onto his face, the stress of it all dragging his lips down into a frown. 

“Sabo?” You asked. “Are you alright?” 

He noticed your expression sinking, too, though with concern rather than frustration. It made him want to die again. 

“Fine,” he ground out. 

“You don’t seem fine,” you said, still holding the jacket out to him. 

“I’m just… I’m just a little tired.” He accepted the jacket and noticed immediately that it smelled a bit like you. 

“Oh, well. It works for you.” You pushed your hands into your pockets. 

“What do you mean?” Sabo asked. 

“I mean you look cute when you’re tired.” 

The words left his mouth before he could stop them. “Even with this scar on my face?” 

You looked genuinely shocked by what he had said. “Especially with the scar on your face. It’s one of the best parts about you.” You offered him that small smile of yours. “Anyway, I still have some work to get done. I’ll see you at dinner.” With that, you turned on your heel and walked away, not having any clue what you had just done. 

Sabo closed the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. As soon as it closed, he jumped for joy, a grin spreading wide across his face. He felt like a balloon about to pop. It’s one of the best parts about you. He collapsed on his bed and stared up at the ceiling, that same, dumb smile on his face. He didn’t think he’d ever scowl again. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[eddiesxangel]

Take Me to the Lakes | E.M x Reader ~ 2/6

Read part 1 here

Cw: angst, jealousy, pining, weed consumption, 18+ content MDNI

Wc: 4.4k

You didn’t see Eddie the rest of the day, but you did happen to run into Steve and yell at him for the most impromptu timing in the world. It has been a scorcher of a day, so you were elated that today was swim day.

The sun was sweltering; Robin and you had to triple-check that your campers had all the water-resistant sunscreen. You had worn your bathing suit under your jean shorts and Camp Murdock t-shirt, but you couldn’t take the sweaty cotton touching your skin any longer. You had to strip off the clothes that were sticking to your skin.

“I think I might die if I don’t get in the water now!” Robin complained. You could see her usually pin-straight bangs getting wavy from the sweat on her forehead.

“Same here, I can’t believe I didn’t think to put my hair up this morning." You could feel the sweat dripping down the base of your neck.

As soon as you reached the dock, you took charge and ensured that everyone in your group was fully aware of all the water safety rules. You then conducted a final head count of all the campers before jumping into the water yourselves.

Robin was the first to take the plunge, diving headfirst into the refreshing water. Despite the initial shock of the cold water, she resurfaced with a huge grin on her face, her teeth chattering with excitement.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” she squealed.

“Oh god, I don’t want to do it now,” you laughed as you stripped off your jean shorts.

Just as you were removing your clothes, Eddie, Steve, and Ashton came running around the corner, unable to stay in the heat themselves. Due to the hot weather, Eddie tied his long hair back, and his light grey shirt turned dark grey from sweat. They had just changed into their swimming trunks.

“Hey, look, the girls,” Ashton pointed to you and Robin.

Eddie had stopped dead in his tracks as he watched you. It was like you were moving in slow motion.

You still were taking your shorts off. Eddie watched as your peach of an ass bent over to step out of your shorts, your back arching as you peeled off the t-shirt. You wore your red bikini with little white hearts matched perfectly with the little heart inked into the skin on your right butt cheek.

Hold up, what? Eddie’s brain short-circuited. You not only have a tattoo, but an ass tattoo?

“Dude, hello, Earth to Eddie,” Steve was snapping his fingers in front of Eddie's face.

“ Huh, what?” Eddie reluctantly peeled his eyes away from you.

“You’d been staring at her for like five minutes, bro; just ask her out already.” Ashton laughed.

“Was not five minutes"

“So you admit you’re staring?” Steve smirks.

“How could I not? Don’t you have eyes?”

The guys laughed, and Eddie continued his gaze back to you when he saw Billy approaching you from the right. Eddie felt a sudden possessiveness over you when it came to that guy. He never liked Billy from the start. His off-putting comment and how he looked at you like he wanted to eat you were unsettling.

Eddie didn’t waste another second thinking about it; he started to run towards you, kicking off his slides and tossing his shirt before he grabbed you by the waist and flung you both into the water, laughing.

-

You weren’t paying attention to the boys behind you; honestly, you had no idea they were even there. You were too focused on working up the courage to finally jump in. Robin tried to convince you when you heard your name being called.

“Bambi, damn girl, you’re looking hotter than last year.” You turned and rolled your eyes immediately. Out of all people, Billy. You watched in disgust as he was ogling you while licking his lips.

Before you could even reply, a force pushed you into the freezing water.

When you breach the surface, you profusely try to catch your breath, looking around to see what the fuck just happened.

Your first instinct was to blame Billy for pushing you in.

“What the fuck Coyote?!” You were freezing, and the drastic temperature change had your teeth chattering.

“It wasn’t me!” his hands when up in defence.

You believe him, so you start looking around because he couldn't have, and you swore another person had jumped into the lake with you.

“Sorry, Princess. As your knight, I must fulfill my duty to you to save you.” A whisper echoed in your ear.

You let out a small scream, startled by his closeness, but when your heart settled, your flesh rose in goosebumps, not because of the cold of the lake water. Strong hands touch your waits turning you around to face your ‘saviour’

“Oh, my hero,” you fake swoon.

Eddie laughed, his head tipped all the way back so his hair was touching the water, his thick neck exposed, sending you into a daydream of leaving many a mark on that neck, but your thots were halted by Eddie pushing down on your head, dunking you back into the water.

“Edward Munson, I swear to God!” You screamed when you popped back up out of the water.

“Oh, my government name? You wound me, Princess.” He grabbed his chest like he had a knife in his heart.

You started to swim towards him, but the cold lake water was starting to numb your limbs. You couldn’t move fast enough; your teeth were still chattering, and Eddie could hear how cold you were.

“I'm sorry, Princess. I need to redeem myself.” He reached out and pulled you into his body, wrapping his arms around the small of your waist.

“You better be.” You shivered.

“Come, let's get you warmed up in the sun.”

He hopped out of the water, not even having to use the ladder. He reached down, holding out his hand to help you out, but you yanked him back down, and he fell head-first back into the water.

Eddie could only hear your laugh when he broke through the surface.

“I guess I deserved that.” He shook his head like a wet dog.

You were already halfway up the ladder when you felt his gaze on you. Eddie watched as you climbed up; he trialled right behind you, giving him a great view of the tattoo he wanted to know more about.

You quickly ran over to the towel that had been warmed by the sun. Shivering, you crouched down and sat in a ball to cover yourself with the whole towel.

“Come ‘er Princess, let's get you warmed up.” Eddie sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders with his own towel to cover you both before he started rubbing his hands up and down your arms to help you get warm.

You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. Between the sun and Eddie, you warmed you up in no time.

You were at peace, the smell of coconut sunscreen, the sounds of splashing in the water, the warm feeling you were getting because Eddie was not only touching you, but hugging you.

“There you go, your majesty, all better,” Eddie smirked.

“You’re really not going to give up this joke, are you?” You laughed.

“Not in a million years, Princess.”

-

You and the girls were busily getting ready for a cozy after-the-bonfire hangout with the boys in the mess hall. You were there setting up some snacks and drinks on the table, and the soft glow of the fairy lights hanging on the walls added to the warm ambiance of the room.

Meanwhile, Eddie and his cabin were chatting and laughing, looking forward to the evening. As the night grew darker, they realized it was already 10:00 pm, and they needed to do one last check on the campers to make sure they were sound asleep. Once it was all calre the guys made their way to the mess hall.

“So you and Bambi seem to be getting pretty close.” With his flashlight under his chin, Ashton wiggled his eyebrows at Eddie. Eddie shoves his shoulder lightly, laughing in response.

“I don’t know, man. I know her from home, is all.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, dude! You totally couldn’t keep your hands off her at the lake today; I saw you,” Ashton accused.

“Well, have you seen her? And I think she has been flirty with me? I don't know...she confuses me,” Eddie admitted, thinking back on earlier this morning when he thought you almost kissed him.

It's not like Eddie didn't want to believe it, it's that he can't believe it. Why do you, out of all people, want to be with him?

“I would go for it, dude, trust me. She is my best girl-friend, and I shouldn’t say anything, so I won’t, but if I were you, I would ask her out.” Steve joined in.

“You shouldn’t say anything? What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie asked as they opened the doors to the hall.

“Sorry, man, sworn to secrecy, but trust me, bro.”

“Don't ever trust Moose.” Robin giggled, not knowing the context of the conversation.

“Hey, boys,” you smiled.

Eddie’s eyes met yours, and he smiled back, but his smile dropped when he saw Billy sitting beside you. Billy was like a mosquito who wouldn't leave you alone; he gave you no personal space even though you were seated at a twenty-foot-long picnic table.

He tried his best to ignore Billy; you had already said you didn’t like him, so why did Eddie feel jealous?

Instead, Eddie tried to focus all his attention on you, so he sat directly across from you. Eddie thought you looked cute tonight. Your natural hair was wrapped up in a messy bun, but shorter pieces framing your face.

You wore a heather grey Camp Murdock oversized crewneck sweater, blue and green plaid flannel pyjama pants, and pink fuzzy socks. He liked that you felt comfortable enough to not try hard like you do back home. Back home, he never saw your hair out of place or your outfit not coordinated. Not that Eddie didn't like that version of you, but he likes this version a whole lot more. It made you feel more real and less of this superhuman that the town dubbed you as.

“What are we playing today?” Eddie asked.

“A good old game of truth or dare,” Robin smiled.

“Oh god,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We have a little something extra to make it fun,” You smiled while showing the group the pre-rolled joint you pulled out of your pyjama pants pocket.

Eddie smirked at the thought of you, goodie two shoes, and buying weed. Then, his thought process changed… Who else would you get weed from if not him?

“The fuck you get that?” Eddie didn’t intend for it to be that harsh, but it slipped out like word vomit. Could this be trusted? How did he know it wasn’t laced or tainted.

“Oh, uh, I know a local guy.” Your smile dropped, and Eddie watched as you curled into yourself.

Fuck.

“Better be up to this guy’s standards,” Billy pointed to Eddie, only making it worse.

“You’re lucky I’m even sharing with you.”

“Let’s just start, guys, jeez.” Robin rolled her eyes.

You lit up first then passed it to Billy. Eddie seethed that he got it first. He almost grabbed it right from your hands but he knew he needed to control himself…

The game went on, and the typical stuff happened: streaking, truths about the first kiss, and chugging a combination of ketchup, mustard, and mayo. The joint was getting down to a nub, and it was really starting to take effect. The mood had been lifted, and Eddie noticed how you and the others were getting more giggly, whispering and plotting the next truths and dares.

Steve was up next, and he turned to you.

“Truth or dare?” Steve asks with a smirk.

“Truth,” you say confidently.

“Who was the last guy to give you an orgasm?” He gives you the biggest tooth smile.

Eddie’s ears perk up, his attention locked in. The bubbling feeling of jealousy almost formed again, but it disappeared as soon as you spoke your answer.

“No one.” You blushed.

“Come on, no one believes you, Bambi.” Steve retorts.

“I’m serious! Now shut up it's my turn.” You huffed.

Eddie was not surprised you’re a virgin; if you had slept with anyone, everyone in Hawkins would have known about it.

It sounds wrong, but Eddie was relieved when you said no one. Nobody would be able to please you like he could. The things Eddie wanted to do to you, worship you, take care of you…

“Eddie, hello! earth to Eddie!” Your voice snaps Eddie out of his daydreams.

“Huh? What?”

“Truth or dare,” you smile at him.

“Dare,” Eddie smirked.

“I dare you to kiss…Billy.” You, Robin, and Nancy burst into a fit of giggles like you’ve been plotting.

“I’ll kiss literaly any other guy. Try again, sweetheart.” Eddie sees you try to hide your smile at the pet name. Noted.

"Hey! What's wrong with me?"

"Everything..." Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Come here, big guy, let me plant one on ya." Billy began to chase Eddie around the room, and you, along with everyone else, couldn't hold in your giggles. It was really good weed.

-

The night rolled on, and everyone had to return to their cabins before you knew it.

“Well, boys, I am never skinny dipping at night again. I think my dick shrunk back into my body. Fuck, that lake is cold!” Ashton laughed.

“I never want to see those hairy cheeks again,” Eddie joined.

“I can’t believe what Bambi said, can you?” Steve piped up.

“About what?” Eddie asked.

“That no guy has ever gotten her off. You would think at least one would, you know” Steve exclaimed while brushing his teeth.

“Maybe that’s why she is acting like she has a stick up her ass; I can show her a good time, maybe replace that stick with mine, if you know what I mean.” Billy joked, cupping his crotch as he was getting his pyjamas on.

The joke wasn’t funny; the thought of any guy touching you made Eddie's knuckles go white. His face dropped into a sneer for a split second, but he caught himself. Fucking hell, Munson pulled it together.

“Shut up, dude. She wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” Ashton laughed as he lay in his bunk.

“Oh yeah, we will see. She will come around.” He winked, and Eddie felt the s’mores in his stomach start to churn.

Eddie was about to let Steve know that there was no way on God's green earth that you had slept with someone, but his attention was shifted when Steve spoke again.

“Word is she likes someone,” Steve dropped casually as he climbed into his top bunk.

That caught the three men’s attention; they whipped around simultaneously, and all Steve could do was laugh.

“You guys are something else.” He chuckled and laid down to go to sleep.

Maybe Ashton was right; maybe his ever-growing crush on you was too obvious. Maybe he should dial it back more...

-

As the sun sets over Camp Murdock, the anticipation builds for the evening's main event - the camper's talent show. You, Eddie, and Steve have been chosen as the judges for the show, and it's an exciting responsibility. The venue for the show is the old barn on the property. You have carefully set up rows of chairs and cleared a decent patch of the floor to create a makeshift stage. The rustic and charming barn is adorned with twinkle lights that create a warm and cozy atmosphere. A folding table is placed before the judges, where they will take notes and make their final decisions.

As the kids prepare backstage, their nervous energy is palpable. The makeshift backstage area is just an old curtain hanging on a rod by the back right wall. You can hear the campers giggling and screaming in excitement and nervousness. Despite their jitters, they are ready to showcase their talents and make the night memorable for everyone.

You sat in the middle with Steve and Eddie on either other side of you.

“Are you going to strut your stuff up there later tonight?” you asked Eddie quietly, giggling.

To your surprise, he didn’t give you much of an answer, a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders.

That was weird; Eddie had been so warm yesterday. This was your first time seeing him today; maybe he’s tired?

You tried shaking it off, wanting to focus on the kids.

“They all did well. It was so cute to see them perform their dances and songs. One kid did a magic show, and another just showed off his rock collection. Ultimately, one of Eddie’s campers, who had a beautiful singing voice, won the talent show. As a consolation prize, everyone who participated got ice cream. After all the celebrations, everyone went to bed, and it was time for the counsellors to have their own talent show.

You're incredibly nervous this year because you have decided to do something bold. You haven’t told anyone about it, not even Nancy or Robin. It’s evident to anyone who knows you that you’ll be dancing tonight, but it’s usually a ballet number. However, tonight is different. You are determined to make your move and not waste more precious time.

You carefully rummaged through your bag, removing the skin-tight pleather black booty shorts and a shiny red, cropped tank top. You loved the way the two pieces hugged your curves, making you feel both sexy and confident.

Next, you moved to the bathroom and began styling your hair. You wanted to create a voluminous look, so you used a curling iron to add bouncy curls that cascaded down your back. You then applied makeup, starting with a base of foundation and concealer. You added smoky black eyeliner to your upper and lower lids and finished the look with bold red lipstick that made your lips pop.

As soon as you feel prepared and all set, you slip into your cozy grey sweatpants over your shorts, taking care to secure yourself from the pesky bugs outside. You then slide your feet into your sleek black dancing heels and grab your cassette tape.

Robin was the first to see you when you returned to the barn.

“Shut the fuck up; what are you doing?” she asked most affectionately. A growing smirk spreads across her face as you turn.

“You’ll see.” Your confidence was helping a little, but deep down, you were terrified. You’ve been so nervous you think you might be sick.

As the talent show kicked off, you were excited to spend the evening with Eddie, but he seemed distant. Despite your best attempts at conversation, Eddie remained quiet and disinterested in engaging with you. Later, when you tried to talk to him again, he brushed you off, leaving you feeling hurt and confused. You hoped that his behaviour was just a temporary mood, but the fear of failure lingered in the back of your mind. If the plan you had been working on together didn't come to fruition, you knew you would be mortified.

As the show went on, you unfortunately had the pleasure of going dead last. Eddie wasn’t a judge this time, but he was still sitting in the front row. Perfect.

As the host, Mike, asked for your tape to be put into the casket player, he saw your hands visibly shaking.

“Bambi, relax. It's just for fun; you do this every year. We all love your little ballerina stuff,” he smiled.

“Do I look like I’m dressed to do ballet— know what, never mind?” You didn’t mean to be snappy; Mike had always been nice to you.

As he walked out on “stage” to announce the next performance, you stepped off your sweats, pulled the zipper up the side of the black high heels and prayed that you wouldn’t fall flat on your face in front of Eddie.

“Last but certainly not least, we have a crowd favourite!” The audience, your fellow colleagues, clapped as you walked out. You heard someone whistle, most likely Robin and your stomach flip-flopped.

You walk out and face the back wall, standing in a bevel, arms hanging by your side, waiting for the chords to start.

The first notes of Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love dripped from the speakers.

Your body moved seductively once the music hit like you were in a trace performance mode.

Were you worried some of the other girls would call you a slut? Absolutely, but once the music started, all that went away.

You began dancing like you had when Eddie caught you in the studio that first day, but this time, with the hair, makeup, and shoes, you were more confident than you'd ever been.

A-way, way down inside

A-honey you need-ah

I'm gonna give you my love, ah

I'm gonna give you my love, ah oh

The rush of being on stage made you lose yourself in the routine, however the part you had been most nervous about was coming up.

A-way, way down inside

You stood facing the crowd with your head thrown back, your right hand ran down your stomach, grazing past the waistband of your shorts that hardly covered anything, down cupping your core, then slinked it back up again.

I'm gonna give ya my love

Your head snaps back up, and you took a slow strut forward.

I'm gonna give ya every inch of my love

another slow step forward

I'm gonna give ya my love

You reached your target as you slowly sank to your knees right where Eddie was sitting. Giving him a small wink before you whipped your hair, you looked back up at him through your lashes, and you saw his jaw was clenched, and his hands were balled up white-knuckling.

You reached up with a single hand and grazed it over his left thigh before slinking back down to roll away and get back to the rest of the routine.

By the time you had finished, you were out of breath. Everyone cheered, and a few whistles were made as you walked off stage, but when you looked around, Eddie was gone.

Your heart sank. The overwhelming feeling of embarrassment washed over you, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

Of course, he wouldn’t want you in that way.

You were a fool to think he ever would.

You were naive to think changing your appearance to be like the edgier sexy chicks he probably goes for. You literally pulled a Sandy for Grease. You tried putting yourself out there, doing this dance, but now you felt the tears welling up; the lump in your throat grew. You felt like an idiot.

You needed air. You took off your shoes, put your pants back on, and walked out the barn's back door.

“Bambi, wait up.”

You turn to see Billy.

“Uh, hey,” You try to keep your voice as neutral as possible, forcing yourself not to let it crack.

“You were amazing up there!” He smiled and gave an encouraging hug.

“Thanks, Coyote, that's really sweet for you to say.” You sniffled.

“Hey, are you okay?” he pulled away to see your tears threatening to leave the rims of your lash line. “No, no, it’s okay. Don’t cry; everyone thought you rocked it!” He pulled you into another comforting hug.

This was the most genuine Billy’s been with you all summer. This was the Billy you knew and loved last summer.

“You really think so?” you ask trying to pull yourself together.

“Yes! Of course; what’s gotten into you?” He looked concerned.

“Nerves, I guess.” You try to shrug it off, but you can’t shake the feeling.

“Well you did amazing, you won!” He gave me a congratulatory kiss on the cheek; it was soft and hardly grazed your skin.

“Thank you.” You pulled him in for another hug. You just needed a friend right now, and I missed this version of Billy.

“You know there is another way I can make you feel better.” He chuckled.

“And the moment ruined, ugh. Why do you do that?” he laughed as you stepped away.

-

You found Cassie and the other girls back at the cabin.

“Hey guys.” You sniffled as you walked to your bed.

“Babe, you were amazing up there! Who knew you could move like that!” Clover cheered.

“You are one hot Mamma!” Nancy giggled.

“Bam, what’s wrong?” Robin asked after you hadn’t really said anything back. She came to sit beside you and wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“It’s silly…” tears threatening to run down your cheeks once again.

“Hey, it’s just us." Nancy reached over and touched your hand.

You let out a heavy sigh.

“I feel like such an idiot! I did that whole thing to get Eddie’s attention, but he was gone before I even finished dancing.” You hid your face in your hands, too embarrassed to look at your friends.

“If you ask me, he looked like he was trying to contain himself. Girl, you did that to him with no warning! Hell, even I wanted to jump your bones just watching you.” Robin giggled.

“Really? Do you think so? You don’t think he was mad or put off? I saw his face—he looked annoyed. Like he was uncomfortable. Even earlier, he was cold to me.” You grabbed a tissue and blotted away your blackened tears.

“Nah, Bams, he looked like a man trying not to pop a boner, especially when you touched his thighs! Holy shit, I thought he would blow his load right there.”

Nancy managed to pull a laugh off of you.

“Thanks, guys; I think I'll feel better in the morning.” you sighed and gave them each a hug, then got ready for bed.

Next chapter

Tags: @winchester-angel @josephquinnsfreckles @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @emma-munson @littlexdeaths @siriuslysmoking @peachysink @nailbatanddungeon @leelei1980 @daisy-munson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @strangerstilinski @bl0ssomanddie @seb-buckybarnes @chickenandsheep-blog @lokis-army-77 @ali-r3n @erinekc @impmunson @snowflowersstars246 @micheledawn1975 @princesatracionera @bells-28 @kellsck @guineveresghost @ezzynf @oneforthemunny @paybacksawitch

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Wonderful Accident

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Twenty-Six - Chapter Twenty-Eight ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: A tough conversation awaits, as does some unexpected perks of winning a duel against a dastardly opponent.

Word Count: 7.3k

Lily’s mouth was wide, her gaze rapid as it darted between you and James. At the same time your heart had all but stopped, a rush of heat moving like a wave down from your face all the way to your feet. The three of you, like prey animals remaining like statues, deliberating whether to flee or play dead, seemed to be having the same concurrent thought: holy shit.

Her mouth clamped shut, a flush of color rising to her cheeks as she swallowed. For a moment you thought she may turn and leave as if nothing ever happened, willing to pretend she had not walked in on such a startling event. However, you should have felt foolish for forgetting her character so easily, for she did not run away, taking a few careful steps into the room. It seemed as though she wished to speak though couldn’t find the proper words, struck mute by what she saw. 

James stood to his full height, moving away from the bed. “Lily,” he began, testing the waters. She did not flinch away, some of the rigidness in her shoulders relaxing. “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

As some of the initial shock settled, you could no longer tell what she was thinking. It was obvious her mind had caught up with her eyes, though beyond that you had no insight. 

“I was going to tell you today,” you said, unable to allow James to do all the work for you, “but then Agnes came with the fizzybomb thing and Mulciber— it just turned into such a big mess and I’m sorry.” You were practically pleading with her, though for what, you did not exactly know. 

She let out a breath, meeting your eyes for a drawn out moment before turning back to James. “How—” she stuttered, “how long has this been going on?”

“A month and a half,” you said, answering before he had the chance. Your heart ached as you spoke, though some of the adrenaline high from earlier had not yet worn off, allowing your mouth some freedom you otherwise would’ve had to force. 

You could see a renewed jolt of surprise run through her at your confession. James moved closer to her, though you could no longer see his face, only the way his hands came up in a timid, hesitant motion. 

“This isn’t just a fling. I swear, it’s not like that at all,” he said in the same desperate tone as yourself. He glanced back at you, his eyes holding within them an unguarded hope, free from all masks. You knew he believed she’d be okay with it, though you wondered if that belief was slipping the longer she appeared so utterly bewildered. He turned back to her, resuming his explanation, “I’m serious about this, really fucking serious. We both are. I promise that I’d never—”

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, standing in the doorway of her office. Her face was expressionless, looking between the three of you. “Is there something to which I should be made aware?” she asked, again without any indication of how much she had heard.

You shook your head, though Lily was the first to speak. 

“No, ma’am. I apologize if we were too loud. Professor McGonagall released me from my duties for the time being and said I was free to visit Y/N, as long as that’s all right with you,” as she spoke she was perfectly collected, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Pomfrey gave her a skeptical look, her mouth tight. “You may stay, Miss Evans.”

She spun around and went back into her office, this time closing a door with less than an inch of space left open. Later, you’d have to find some way to thank her for the increase in privacy. 

“James,” you said after a moment, still afraid, though far less than you would have been an hour ago, “could you leave us, just for a few minutes?”

Just then the clock tower chimed, quite loud from this place in the castle. The school day was finished, though it wasn’t as if anyone was still in classes. 

James nodded once, offering you a smile that could barely be seen before he left the Hospital Wing. Slowly, Lily walked over to the chair in which James had been sitting, watching as you moved to sit on the edge of the bed, your eyes in your lap. The ringing had ceased, the room silent once more, save for your racing heartbeat. 

“James was right,” you said, lifting your face. “I’d never, we’d never do this unless we were completely serious. If I wasn’t entirely certain that I would regret it for the rest of my life—not giving it a chance—I wouldn’t dream of risking something like this,” you stopped, your eyes closing. “More than anything I regret not telling you sooner. I should’ve told you right from the start. Godric, I really wish I did. It was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Lily.”

You spoke low enough that you hoped Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t hear, though you were a bit past humiliation at this point. Pomfrey being privy to your conversation would not be the worst thing to happen today, at any rate. 

Lily opened her mouth a few times before she spoke, the gears turning in her head, “I thought that you two might fancy each other. Well, I was almost certain James fancied you, but I never thought that you were,” she faltered, letting out another breath that sent her shoulders slumping. “So you’re together. Really together?”

You gave her a solemn look, nodding. “Yeah. Really together.” 

You knew what you ought to tell her, perhaps the thing that would make or break your entire friendship, though your throat was tight as if to keep in the damming words. I’m in love with your ex-boyfriend was not something one looked forward to saying, especially after such an awful, abysmal sort of day. 

Her hand came up to her face, rubbing along the corner of her mouth as her eyes drifted off to some point on the floor. She seemed pensive, processing the tidings with an agonizing intensity. 

“You know,” she began, still looking away, “I feel a little foolish for not realizing sooner.”

You were taken aback, your brows furrowing. Out of all the possible things you were anticipating she might say, that was not one of them. “Huh?”

She glanced up, more quizzical than anything. “When did it start exactly?”

“Uh, Saturday night after the quidditch match, when we left the party,” you answered somewhat monotonously, still a bit stunned by the question. 

She hummed, leaning back in the chair. “Yes, that's just about a month and a half,” she said to herself, making another curious noise. 

“Lily,” you said, very carefully. She looked back to you, still a bit lost in her own thoughts. You took a deep breath, pushing away your lingering anxiety. “We’re, well, James and I are in love. We have been since that night.”

She said nothing for far too long, so long that you wondered if you’d pushed her to the brink of madness. Your hands fisted into the Hospital Wing bedding, your face contorting in a mix of pain and trepidation as you waited for her to make any indication she even heard what you had said. 

Finally, she said your name with a deep, long sigh, her head hanging down for a moment as if she were suddenly tired. If she was, you’d hardly blame her. She ran a hand down her face again, frowning at you like a disappointed parent. “You’re a real tosser, you know that?” She snorted, almost like a laugh, smiling without much joy. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. You’re in love and you didn’t tell me?”

She appeared more sad than anything, staring up at you in mild betrayal. It wasn’t as bad as you had feared, though you still felt a heaviness in your chest, years of friendship weighing down upon you. 

“I was scared,” you muttered, forcing down tears once again. “I thought you’d hate me forever, that you’d never want to speak to me again. It was selfish of me. James wanted to tell you, but…I didn’t want to lose you.” Every syllable felt like wading through sludge, thick and tacky. You tried to remember how you had organized it all in your head, but you came up empty, forcing you to make it up as you went along. “I never thought I’d feel anything close to this, and I’m sure that I never would have if it weren’t for him, but I’d also never wish we weren’t friends, never in a million years. I guess that’s really what makes me selfish. I want both at the same time.” 

“Did you really think I’d be upset with you for falling in love?” she asked, seeming to momentarily forget your disloyalty. 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, your eyes burning as you nodded. 

She laughed, small and tinged with a bit of sorrow, though it was still like a harbor in the tempest. “You really are thick.”

“What?”

“You remember how James and I bickered?” she said, cocking her head.

Completely dumbfounded, you answered her question, “Yeah…”

“Then you remember well enough that we were not good together.”

You felt like she was a professor explaining a very simple concept that, for some unknown reason, you couldn’t quite grasp. “Yeah, but I still—”

“Lied to me? That was a bit of a dick move— well, maybe more than a bit, but that's not what I’m talking about,” she paused, giving you the kindest, gentlest look she could have as she placed a hand on your knee. “How could I possibly be upset with my best friend falling in love with another one of my friends, who, I’ll remind you, I was not very compatible with? James is his own person. He can do whatever he wants. He always has, anyway, no matter how many suggestions I made to him,” she chuckled, her smile subtle, though no less warm. “I want you to be happy, Y/N, and I want him to be happy. If you do that for each other…that seems like a wonderful accident.”

The leaden storm clouds raging above you, carrying with them the rumble of lightning and whipping rain, opened up, revealing glorious rays of golden sunlight piercing through the gloom. You could almost feel the heat of it on your skin, the shift in the air as they peeled away, fading into nothingness. 

Your face lit up, a bubbling laugh of surprise falling from your lips as you stared at her. You suddenly felt eleven years old again, completely and utterly sure that you and Lily would stay friends for the rest of your lives. 

“You’re okay with it, me and James?” you asked, though there wasn’t much need. 

Lily was shaking her head at your reaction, her smiling having grown. “Yes, I’m okay with it.”

“And it isn’t because I almost died today?”

She hummed, giving your question some consideration. “No. I don’t think so, anyway. It may have put me in a more forgiving mood, but I think the end result would have always been the same. Maybe it just would’ve taken me a few hours,” she laughed. 

You put your face into your hands, still grinning as you nearly felt her arms pull you back from the ledge of the cliff. “James said you would be,” you mumbled through your fingers, taking your hands away just in time to see her roll her eyes. 

“Of course, he did,” she droned. “Thinks he knows everything.”

Her snarky comment, which any other time would have caused you to laugh further, made you pop down from the bed, leaning forward to throw yourself into her arms. This was Lily, your best friend, your sister in all but family tree and pesky Ministry papers. You wrapped yourself around her shoulders, pulling her in as tight as you could. She was startled at first, letting out a small laugh before she returned your embrace.

“I love you, Lily,” you said, meaning every word. “Thank you. I can’t even— I couldn’t possibly—-”

“You don’t have to,” she said softly, her voice the same as the bright day emerging from the storm. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, unwilling to break the hug first. Life still felt unreal, now for an entirely different reason than before. An hour ago everything felt too horrible to be truly happening, though now it felt too lovely. “I wish I could take it back. Godric, you don’t know how much I wish I had a time turner. I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, but I will. I promise.”

She moved you away, standing with her hands still on your arms. “There will be no making it up to me. I just need you to promise one thing.”

“Of course, anything,” you said immediately. 

“Never, ever keep a secret like this from me again,” she said. “You’d think after seven years you’d realize I’m not very frightening.” She continued when you saw you make a face, “Well, perhaps I’m a tiny bit hot-headed, but you almost never make me upset. Not truly, in any case.”

“I promise,” you said, amazed at her infinite kindness. After a moment of thinking on how you and James were free to just be, maybe even in front of the entire school now that Mulciber would be gone, you began to ponder the smaller, less significant questions that had been pushed to the back burner for the time being. “It’s not weird for you, him and I?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I would’ve preferred to have found out in just about any other way,” she teased, “and it might take some getting used to…but, no. I don’t think of him that way anymore. It’s actually sort of amazing I ever did.”

“I’m telling him you said that,” you laughed, always enjoying the moments when Lily was wickedly brutal. 

Lily looked proud of herself for her joke, though she soon motioned to the bed with her chin, walking around the foot. “Get back in bed, you should be resting. I’m gonna go get him. He’s probably giving himself a heart attack out there.”

When Lily cracked open the door you heard the sound of James’s shoes shuffling down the corridor, sliding to a stop as he peeked inside. Lily opened it wider, allowing him in. He had since taken off his robe, which had taken the worst beating, the charred fabric hanging in his hand like the flag of a kingdom marred in battle. His gloves were also missing, though now that you thought of it, you were quite sure he hadn’t had them on the entire time. Where they could have ended up was a mystery that would have to be solved at a less pressing time. 

He was looking between the pair of you with a great deal of unease, though it soon turned to curiosity when he took in each of your easy demeanors. 

“Is everything…?”

Lily snorted, crossing her arms. “Yes, everythings fine.”

James beamed, the heaviness of the day seemingly lifted off of him despite Lily’s annoyed countenance. You weren’t quite sure if her demeanor was due to the fact that James had been right about her feelings, something she certainly wouldn’t want to give in the satisfaction of, or the lingering irritation over not being told about it. Either way, James was gloriously happy. 

“I’m buying your butterbeers for the rest of the year,” he said, unperturbed by her lack of thankfulness. 

“That's right, you will,” she mumbled.

James finally noticed her mood, his smile dropping. “Did you two not make up?” he asked, looking at you for a moment. 

You shook your head, half-shrugging.

“Everything is perfectly fine between us,” Lily began, staring at James with the strict look students often received from McGonagall, “though it would’ve been nice of you to ask me first.”

“Ask you?”

“You just assumed I wouldn’t care, and you’re lucky you were right,” she said, not seething, though far from pleased. 

His shoulders relaxed, his posture returning to something softer, though never entirely slouchy. He had too much energy for that. 

“C’mon,” he drawled. “I knew you wouldn’t be upset. If I wasn’t sure, I would’ve asked.” 

Lily pointed a finger at his chest, taking a step towards him. “You’re lucky I’m not going to tell her parents you’ve been seeing their daughter for over a month and never even sent them a letter.” 

You were reminded of their old bickering days, the arguments that would make Sirius roll his eyes and Peter sink into his chair. Half of the time you weren’t sure who won and who lost, or who you thought was right. Looking at them now, you wondered how you didn’t see their break-up coming from a mile away. 

James glanced over at you, unfazed by her threat. “She’s bluffing, right?” 

You only laughed, giving him no answers. Your parents wouldn’t care anyhow, which Lily knew quite well, though you weren’t sure if she’d forgive you if you revealed that now. 

Just as he began to pout, the Hospital Wing door opened again, though at first you didn’t see anyone enter. All your eyes shot down nearer to the floor, finding Isby standing with a small trunk floating in the space behind her. 

“Isby brings your things,” she said as she headed into the room, leading the trunk to the foot of the bed where it was dropped. 

You got up in order to thank her properly, which she took graciously, just as she always did. 

“You are welcome,” she squeaked, her large eyes roaming across you just the way Pomfrey’s had “How are you feeling? Isby heard what happened with your classmates. Isby knew he was trouble, knew it!” She stomped her foot once, quite grouchy. 

You knelt down, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s all right now. Professor McGonagall and Taurisus probably have him locked away somewhere until someone from the Ministry comes to get him.”

She did not seem convinced, huffing to herself. “Miss L/N said that before, and look at what's happened.”

“Wilkes’ father won’t be able to get Mulciber out of trouble this time. It’s cut and dry, I promise. I doubt that Wilkes or Zephyr or any other of the Slytherin’s will try anything, either.”

Somewhat appeased, Isby gave you another nod, looking over to Lily and James. “Your uniform!” she said, horrified by the state of his robe. 

James laughed, glancing down at it. “Oh, this? Don’t worry about it, Isby. The seasons almost over, anyway.”

Isby shook her head, mumbling something about reckless James Potter before she turned back to you. “Isby is glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you said, standing up. “Thanks again for my things, Isby. I’ll have to find some way to repay you for all the kindness you’ve shown me.”

“Isby has a salary and clothes of her own. Isby needs nothing from Miss L/N.”

You were not insulted. On the contrary, you were glad to know that not even you, who Isby seemed to have taken some sort of liking to, could not boss her around. Although you were a bit sad that you’d be unable to do anything for her, you wouldn’t want to risk upsetting her with an unwanted gift. 

“Okay, if you insist.”

“Isby must go and help with dinner,” she said with one last look up at you, scurrying across the Hospital Wing towards the door. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

It felt a bit odd having Lily and James waiting for you in the main room while you washed up in the lavatory. You wondered if they were talking or silent, and if they were speaking, what was the subject. Was it vain to think it would likely be you? No, you reasoned. Not with the day I’ve had. 

When you looked at your reflection in the mirror you searched for any sign of the cut on your forehead, finding it almost entirely unnoticeable. The skin was slightly shiny where the wound had been closed, though you knew even that would disappear within a few days. The gash on your calf was more obvious, though the small, thin scar would also fade in time thanks to Pomfrey’s healing. They were, other than your weariness, the only evidence of your duel. Your headache was gone and not even your cheekbone, which had also slammed into the ground, hurt. Perhaps Pomfrey’s headache draught was dual-purposed, though it was also plausible you were still in shock. You cringed as you thought of your head hitting the uneven bank of pebbles and rocks, the ringing that had sounded in your ears. Flipendo, as it seemed, was becoming an enemy of yours. 

Wearing fresh clothes that made you feel almost like an entirely different person, you returned to the main room to find a fair few more people waiting for you than when you had left. Dumbledore was standing in the center of the room, McGonagall behind him with Madam Pomfrey near her office door. More chairs had been taken from the other bedsides and brought over to yours, where James, Lily, and now Sirius, sat. Just as they had done in the field an hour prior, their eyes all fell onto you, your skin crawling with the attention.

You stood lamely on the opposite end, staring back at them wordlessly. Today was only the second time you had a conversation with the Headmaster, though now that you thought of it, you hadn’t even spoken to him yet. As you caught a glimpse of him, your eyes never quite meeting his, the anxiety you had felt when you first were brought into his office returned in full force. You had done nothing wrong, yet you almost expected to earn detentions for the remainder of the term and a great loss of house points. The first you could very well deal with, though the second would be a sour affair, considering you were neck-and-neck with Ravenclaw. 

“Feeling better, I hope?” said Dumbledore, the low rumble of his voice seeming more soothing now that Mulciber and the blackened grass was out of sight. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, walking forward to meet him. You felt as though every movement you made was awkward, as if you were new to standing on two feet. “Thank you for—”

“No need, no need,” he said, interrupting your poorly planned speech. “We may discuss everything in my office, if you are feeling up to task.”

McGonagall and Pomfrey did not appear in favor of this, the former shaking her head just enough for you to see. You briefly looked to James, though the action felt unconscious, a reflex you couldn’t get rid of no matter how much you tried. He seemed worried again, though you hadn’t the slightest idea as to why. Surely he didn’t think you’d get in trouble for something like this, especially after everything that's happened. 

“Of course,” you answered.

Dumbledore smiled softly, and you remembered all the speeches he gave before feasts, or sometimes seemingly on a whim during random evenings when he felt like he had something to say. There was always an air of practicality to them, a piece of wisdom weaved into kind words and a few jokes. Lately they had become a bit more serious in nature, though Dumbledore had still remained a hopeful realist, or at the very least, that was what he wanted his students to believe. In this moment he looked just as he did when he stood at his podium: acutely aware of the gravity of the war outside the castle, yet the light of joy never completely dimmed from his spirit. 

“We’ll take the floo, if you don’t mind. It’s a long way to my office and I am not as young as I used to be,” he chuckled, leading you towards Pomfrey’s office. 

You glanced back at James, Lily and Sirius, all bearing different expressions. James seemed as though he wanted to get up and follow you, Lily silently encouraging. Sirius’s countenance was sobering, for he still carried with him grave significance of the recent events. He was like a cord pulled taut, ready to snap. 

McGonagall stood in the doorway as Dumbledore traveled through the floo first, watching you with a nervous twitch as you grabbed a handful of powder and stepped into the hearth. She said nothing as you threw it up, preparing yourself for the inevitable sneezing fit that would greet you upon arrival. 

Dumbledore was standing by the fire when you came through, stepping out with a sneeze. 

“The floo doesn’t agree with you?” he asked, a light tilt to his voice. 

“No, it's all right—” you were interrupted by another sneeze, then a third. When you stopped, you turned to Dumbledore with an apologetic look and a great deal of embarrassment, though he only smiled. 

“I had a close friend who always sneezed when he used the floo, worse than yourself,” he said, walking over to his desk. The perch was still beside it, though Fawkes was nowhere to be found. “Twelve sneezes, every time. His consistency was rather remarkable.”

The same as before, his office seemed dazzling, filled to the brim with curiosities, though it didn’t feel cluttered like the Room of Requirement or a cupboard you alway kept shut. You sat down in the chair across from him, your eyes still bouncing around the room, searching for Fawkes. 

“Fawkes will not be joining us,” he said with another small laugh. “He is off somewhere near the castle, likely patrolling for strays.”

You couldn’t have been more befuddled, inching forward in your chair. “Strays?”

“Your classmate appeared to have acted alone, though there are two other students who we have been unable to locate,” he said, quite matter of factly. 

Your stomach churned, for you could guess which two had gone missing. “Wilkes and Zephyr?”

He nodded, his hands folded casually in his lap. “I have the professors scouring the castle and grounds as we speak, though I fear their efforts are likely in vain. Don’t look so frightened, Y/N. I expected the wake of this event to be far worse.”

Dumbledore had misread your expression, taking your parted lips and widened eyes as fear, rather than understanding. You closed your mouth at once, taking a moment to think. It would be easy to slip out of the castle during the chaos, though you were all free to wander the grounds anyway. It was only a slightly harder feat to scale the boundary wall— though far from impossible. From Hogsmeade they could apparate to wherever they pleased, as long as it was in a reasonable distance. That meant the British Isles, maybe northern France. Still, they would certainly be wanted for questioning, if not by the Ministry than by Dumbledore, meaning they were essentially fugitives. Their family’s homes would be the first places anyone looked, leading only to the unsurprising, solemn conclusion that someone else was willing to hide them or buy them a way into Europe. 

“They’re the only ones missing?” you asked, thinking of Severus and the rest of the Slytherin gang who you hadn’t had the pleasure of dueling. In particular, you thought of Regulus, who you wanted to be free of this mess more than anyone else. 

“Yes,” he said. “They are the only ones.”

You straightened your posture, reminding yourself that you ought to get used to this, that this would be a regular feature of your life for the foreseeable future. “I’m assuming you don’t know who’s hiding them?” 

He didn’t answer you at first, placing his folded hands on his desk as he stared at you. “Nor will we for some time, though their whereabouts make little difference to you— or to me.”

You could hardly believe what he was saying, your face burning not with embarrassment but a growing anger. He was so casual about the matter as if you hadn’t nearly died just hours before. Maybe he had been hardened by the sporadic, escalating war, though you hardly thought he’d disregard Wilkes and Zephyr so easily. Perhaps James was right to be upset with him before, you thought, because he’s acting like a real tosser. 

You did nothing to hide your emotions, your hands curling into fists before loosening, over and over as your palms began to sweat. “Makes little difference?” 

He did not react to your behavior, which was teetering on the edge of improper etiquette around the headmaster and total insubordination. 

“The term will be finished soon, and while they are not the brightest minds to ever grace these halls, your classmates would have certainly graduated,” he said thoughtfully. “They are only a month ahead of their original plans, which I can say with much confidence would not have changed in such short a time. Their hearts, I’m afraid, are well out of our grasp. They have, unfortunately, been irrevocably lost, at least for the time being. ”

His words, as they seemed to you, might as well have been etched in stone. You knew he was right, that where they were now was not far from wherever they would’ve been on the first of July. 

“You did well,” he began again, breaking you from your thoughts, “very well, indeed. You and your friends can hardly blame yourselves for your failure to thwart the fiendfyre. Even if Mulciber had been successful, he too would have perished in the flames.”

“Fiendfyre?”

“Dark magic,” he said, seeming unhappy to have to speak of it. “It takes great skill to control, so great that I venture no more than two or three living wizards possess the ability. I implore you never to attempt it.”

You were certain Dumbledore himself was included in that number, and likely the Dark Lord was as well. The thought nearly made you shudder.

“I have no interest in dark magic, sir,” you said, trying to rid the image of the towering inferno from your mind, the mouth of the snake wide and lunging. 

He smiled softly, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “Even those who long to do good can be prevailed upon by the promise of power. The distinction between the virtuous and the villainous is not made in the temptation, no matter how strong. The difference is only in the choice to pursue it.”

You nodded, not knowing what to say to such a statement. Your heart had slowed nearly to its normal rate, though your nerves hadn’t entirely dissipated. Dumbledore had called you into his office for a reason, though you didn’t think it was simply to tell you Wilkes and Zephyr were on the loose.

You were saved from the effort of conjuring a reply, for Dumbledore spoke again, “I’m sorry to have broken my promise.” He continued when he saw your look of confusion, much of his mirth gone, “The last time you were invited to my office, I gave you my word that I would ensure your safety. I have failed in this task. On the contrary, you acted with extraordinary speed to incapacitate your classmate.”

“I doubt it was necessary,” you said, your voice small. As you were washing up, you realized that it was somewhat foolish to think Dumbledore left himself entirely unprotected after he extinguished the fire. An eighteen year old was the last person who could kill, or even harm, Dumbledore. 

He let out a short laugh, though it was rather glum. “Yes, Mulciber’s spell would not have had an effect, though the rarity of this case is not likely to be repeated. Under any other circumstance, you would have saved a life, which should be treated with equal weight. Speaking of—” He stood, moving with no great haste towards one of the large glass cabinets on the opposite end of the room. You twisted around to watch as he searched the contents, muttering to himself all the while. “Ah!” he said finally, taking out a silver cup, not unlike the house cup, though far smaller in size. It was slender, the handles curving almost the entire length, mounted on a wooden stand. He brought it over, blowing on it as if it were dusty before placing it onto the desk before you. 

You furrowed your brows, looking up at Dumbledore where he stood beside you. He only sat back down at his desk, glancing at the cup before returning his attention to you. 

“My failure to fulfill my duty as Headmaster has forced upon you the necessity of accomplishment. It would be a further misdeed to allow such accomplishment to go unrewarded,” he said, his voice in the odd space between serious and jubilant. He motioned to the cup, some of that very seriousness dropping away. “The Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting,” he said quite fondly. “Exceptional is a fitting word, don’t you agree?”

You had perused the trophy room more than once, given that it was never locked, and knew quite well who was also a recipient of this award. You couldn’t recall any other student earning it during your time in school, nor did you recall recognizing any of the other names of the people who’ve earned it in the past. Albus Dumbledore was the only recipient that stood out to you, which was the reason you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. 

He appeared entertained by your astonishment, watching with a muted smile as you opened and closed your mouth three times over. 

“You must be wondering why I would keep an unawarded trophy in my office,” he said, his feigned misunderstanding thinly veiled. “Most are not, of course. I keep a few of the more— well, as you’d say— generous honors here in case the need arises. While it is a rarity, I do enjoy the pleasure in giving them out.” Again, he motioned towards the cup with a wrinkled hand, content to discuss the physical nature of the prize in lieu of your befuddlement. “It’s a fine cup; Goblin-wrought. Hogwarts makes a fair few commissions.” 

His expression was almost mischievous, the same look he gave wide-eyed first years during the start-of-term feast as he made a silly quip to ease their nerves. “Your friends, Mister Potter and Mister Black, are much deserving of the Special Award for Services to the School, though I’d kindly ask you to keep this news to yourself before I can award it to them in person.”

“Of course,” you said, largely automatic. You had not stopped reeling from the news of your award, almost unable to comprehend it. “Professor, are you sure that I’m, that what I did— I don’t think I would have come out all right if it wasn’t for James and Sirius,” you stumbled over your words, hoping that your meaning was coming across well enough. You paused, taking a breath to collect yourself. “Exceptional spell-casting doesn’t seem to describe me very well.”

“You attended a single Dueling Club meeting, am I correct?”

You nodded, your shoulders slumping as you became lost in Dumbledore’s perplexing train of thought. “Yes, sir.”

“Your Defense Against the Dark Arts grades, I’ve seen, have not been particularly astounding, though you do quite well on written examinations. Your practical skills, however, have not been of remarkable notice,” he continued, still with the same air of unusual humor. “After your performance today, I have considerable doubts that the vast majority of your classmates would make any move to challenge you, for your abilities quite obviously surpass all other students— though perhaps not more than your friends, who I imagine have a great deal to do with your improvements. Though I’m sure you know better than I that you need not worry about their betrayal,” he paused, his eyes softening. “It is one thing to study the art of defence in a classroom, to practice it with your classmates— all useful endeavors, of course, though it is quite another to face an opponent whose goal is not petty embarrassment, but death. Your actions today are exceptional not only due to the merit of your skill, but the exceptional nature of your improvement.”

“I see,” you said, very still and quiet for a long beat until a laugh of disbelief rose up from your chest, bursting an otherwise stagnant moment. 

Dumbledore stood, taking out his wand and pointing it towards the trophy, the plaque on the wooden stand then inscribed with your name and the year. 

“I am also awarding you one hundred fifty house points, though I’m afraid I’ve taken ten from Miss Meadowes,” he said, turning back to you. 

After your conversation and the Barnabus Finkley Prize, one hundred fifty points did not throw you too far off kilter, though any other time you may have fainted. Still, your smile grew. 

“Thank you, professor.”

“You are quite welcome. Now, Madam Pomfrey is sure to be furious with me. I’ve kept you for far too long,” he said, leading you back to the fireplace. “Send Mister Potter and Mister Black up, if you’d please.”

You nodded once, your eyes darting around his office for a final time before you grabbed a handful of floo powder, leaving the enchanting room which you would likely never visit again, already missing its captivating quality. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

You sat with Lily while James and Sirius met with Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall watching from the wall with fretting, fidgeting hands. Beneath the wide brim of her hat her eyes roamed from you to Pomfrey’s office and back again, her patience thinning as the minutes ticked on. Currently, you weren’t sure if she was so twisted up over your safety or the general excitement of Mulciber and the two missing students, though their influences were most likely even. 

Staring down at the stone flooring, you followed the straight edges before they bent around the corners, your fingers picking at the blanket. More than anything, you wanted to be alone with all your friends. You couldn’t imagine the frenzy that would erupt once you all reconvened, especially when they saw that your psyche was well enough intact to discuss the circumstances of your duel. 

You glanced over your shoulder towards Pomfrey, spinning around on the bed to face her with your most ingratiating, somewhat pathetic look. “Are you sure I have to stay for the night, Madam Pomfrey? My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Yes, yes,” she said, shaking her head as she came over to you. “I’m afraid I’m insisting. Thank your lucky stars I’ve allowed your entourage to stay.”

You nodded solemnly, wholly defeated.

“Am I attending classes tomorrow?” you asked, looking now to McGonagall.

Taken off guard by your question, she considered it with a small humph. “No, dear,” she said, far kinder than you expected. “Take tomorrow and the weekend. You can return on Monday.”

“That is if the Ministry doesn’t want to see her,” said Lily from behind you. 

McGonagall seemed to hate this possibility even more than you, her chest rising with an uneven breath. “We shall see.”

You all turned towards the office when you heard the poof of the floo, a burst of green light shining through the open door before Sirius walked out, brushing dust off his shoulder. He smiled at you, a little crooked and tired, which was still a pleasant change from before. 

“Hey, hotshot,” he said, sauntering over to your bed. Another flash of green shone from the office, followed closely by James’s voice saying your name with a considerable deal of enthusiasm, his earlier worry entirely gone. Sirius looked back, suddenly stepping aside just as James ran from the office, nearly knocking into him. “Oi!”

“Mister Potter,” McGonagall scolded, though she didn’t seem to mean it much, for she said nothing else as he continued to run. 

James paid no attention to either of them, beaming as he came to an abrupt stop in front of you, his eyes shining. “The Barnabus Finkley Prize,” he said, almost like a question, but more like an exclamation. 

Lily perked up. “What? Who?”

James’s eyes flickered from Lily’s back to yours, motioning to you in excitement

Lily gasped, her hand hitting the side of the mattress. “You didn’t tell me you were awarded that!”

McGonagall and Pomfrey seemed surprised as well, with McGonagall whispering something to the latter. 

You shrugged weakly, looking between James and Lily. “Sorry.” 

You really did feel bad for not telling her, though you had come back from Dumbledore’s office so dazed that you’d nearly forgotten all about it. 

Sirius threw himself down in one of the chairs, slouching back as if he were in the common room. “I’m a little peeved. It makes our Special Services to the School look like peanuts.”

You all turned when another green puff illuminated from Pomfrey's office door, likely McGonagall’s exit, for she and Pomfrey were no longer in the main wing. After a few moments Pomfrey did not emerge, apparently no longer needing to supervise your entourage, as she had put it.  

“Minnie didn’t even give us a goodbye,” said Sirius, shaking his head. Lily only rolled her eyes. 

“Barnabus Finkley,” James said again, his renewed attention making your heart ache in the best way. “You deserve it, you know.”

Of course he would say that. 

“He’s right,” Lily said. She was giving you the same look she did in your dormitory during your first year when you had confessed your first secret; reassuring, kind, proud.

“How many house points did he give you?” you asked James and Sirius, knowing the House Cup meant far more to them than it did to you. You never were very competitive. 

“A hundred,” Sirius answered, slightly cocky and entirely expected. 

You smiled, reveling in your next statement. “He gave me one-fifty.”

Sirius’s lip curled, grumbling to himself. “Show-off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be a baby.” 

“You know I meant it when I said I believed you were a Gryffindor,” he said, leaning forward. “These performances are getting out of hand.”

You laughed, “You can’t tell me about braggadocio.”

James sat down on the bed, surprisingly quiet given the news that Gryffindor was certainly going to win the House Cup no matter how well any of the other houses did the rest of term. Sirius said some funny quip, though you missed it, caught up in a quality of James’s expression that made you embarrassed to be around other people. It was as if his eyes were too intimate, his mouth curving around saccharine words that would sound overly sentimental to anyone else but you. You were coming to realize that being in love meant that everything you thought or said about the other seemed entirely perfect and natural when it lived only between the pair of you, though when witnessed by anyone else, it seemed to be completely mad. 

“—and I don’t appreciate you using big words just to make yourself sound smarter. It only proves my point,” Sirius finished. 

Lily saved you from having to defend yourself, laughing at Sirius from across the bed. “Just because you have a poor vocabulary doesn't mean—”

James paid no attention to them, his smile small and devastatingly sweet. “Do you still feel all right?”

How could you possibly answer that question in full, you wondered. How could James not already know what you would say?

“Y’know, I sort of feel perfect,” you said, chuckling as Lily and Sirius continued to bicker. “Absolutely perfect.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Notes: so I absolutely LOATHE the house-elf enslavement mess so we’re all gonna pretend that house elves had a revolution and are now all free and can vote and crap— AND they do not, in fact, love being slaves by-and-large. Also justice for winky

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile @eli-com @lovelyteenagebeard @letssee2468 @abhootghiihii @iamawkwardandshy

[angelinthefire]

People seem to take Vi's hatred of enforcers as foundational to her character, and while obviously her experiences with the law have been formative, the more important thing for her is that she will do what it takes to protect her family.

An important thing about Vi joining up with the enforcers in s2 is that it's a continuation of her path from s1. Like she goes with Jayce and a bunch of enforcers to shut down the shimmer plant. Not because she's okay with enforcers but because to her, stopping Silco is the most important thing.

So you can see why Cait would think she's okay with putting on a uniform - from Cait's perspective, it's just formalizing something that's already happened.

Whereas for Vi, she thinks she was just doing what was necessary, and putting on the uniform is a step too far.

Vi already feels a huge amount of responsibility for Jinx. I think before the attack on the memorial, after the initial shock had worn off, Vi was cooling down and I think beginning to almost start to reconsider Cait's offer.

It takes the attack, and Vi's subsequent promise to Caitlyn that "we won't let [everything fall apart]" for her to see formally becoming an enforcer as necessary to deal with the bigger problem - which is still protecting her family.

Before, that meant trying to save Powder. At the start of season2 it means killing Jinx. Because to Vi, Jinx is the death of Powder, she's the nullification of her sister.

Protecting her family also means protecting Caitlyn, who she's come to love. We see Vi trying to step in to the caretaker role with Cait after the memorial, the way she reassures her is very big-sisterish. The thing is, Cait doesn't need protection, and Vi can't keep dealing with her problems by taking on other people's problems.

The scene where Cait and Vi kiss for the first time is really interesting, because it shows how disoriented and vulnerable Vi is. She's lost everyone - and everyone she was responsible for - and she's lost. She can already feel Caitlyn slipping away, even as she's clinging to her as her last anchor.

So when Caitlyn leaves her, of course Vi falls apart. She has no one left to orient towards, she has no family. And that's why Jinx had to let go in the end, because Vi will never live for herself as long as Jinx is there.

Last thing on Vi being an enforcer: One of the main themes of the show that the writers talked about in season 1 is "can you love a monster?" and I think that's very clearly continued into season 2. But it's not just a question of Vi being able to love Jinx. That's too straightforward and simplistic. That question needed to be turned back on Vi - can Jinx still love her, even after she became a monster (see the Jinx POV flash frames) in Jinx's eyes? That gives the theme so much more weight. Because then it's not just "can bad people be loved?" It's "everybody has the potential for darkness, and they can still be loved."

[grinnames]

RTV Tour Part 3.5: "Cognitive Dissonance"

Grinnames POV

@rtv-puzzlevision-studios

Follow up to these posts: Part 3, Part 3.5

PREV

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Hoooo boy, here we go...

Flashback...

TV News Reporter: ...so if you see this man, do not hesitate and call the authorities immediately.

The TV flashed a grainy picture of the mad meme guardian, SMG4, who had reportedly suddenly gone crazy and nearly killed his friend Mario.

Grinnames was stunned, and her thoughts immediately began to race, trying to make sense of what she just heard.

What the hell…? she thought. How does that make any sense?! Isn’t he aware of what that would do to this world?! Maybe he really has gone mad… so crazy that he can’t perform his role as a meme-guardian… To think that the world almost ended. The hell…

End Flashback.

...

PRESENT TIME:

“HOLY HECK YOU JUST SHOT HIM!”

Grinnames would be pretty stunned right now and starts freaking out because SMG4, public enemy Number 1, had just appeared and shot Mr. Puzzles with an EMP. She’s not sad about it, because she already had reservations about him. She was just really shocked and didn't know what to do. Her ribbons pull into a defensive position.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? ARE YOU CRAZY? HOLY HECK MAYBE YOU ACTUALLY ARE CRAZY-”

“ALSO WHAT IS THAT WEAK LOOKING WEAPON??! WHY DON’T YOU HAVE A REAL GUN?!”

 But when the guards start pulling weapons on SMG4, she hears the voice in her head, calling louder this time:

We have to help him!

Why should she even help him? He was supposed to be a madman that betrayed his friends. She should not even get involved. She should just let the guards arrest him.

What she did know is that she had worked hard to build this life for herself. She was finally happy and peaceful. She refused to go back there. Never again. Then why did this feel so wrong?? Why was she feeling so conflicted?!

Time seemed to move in slow motion. Now with the initial shock having worn off, Grinnames got a good look at the meme guardian. She looked harder at Four’s face. She had always imagined him as this twisted, psychotic little freak. One had to be that crazy to nearly end the world all of the sudden. But as he was being piled on by her fellow participants,  she could tell that he was merely defending himself. He wasn’t hurting anyone. 

That was not the face of a madman. That was the face of someone who had just realized that they had screwed up. Then she noticed how her ribbons didn’t recoil at him, they were only tensing around her body in response to her stress.

“You all don’t understand, I’m not the bad guy!” He shouted through gritted teeth.

The whole situation was making her brain spin with cognitive dissonance, freezing her in place. Grinnames shut her eyes and gritted her teeth. She tried to ground herself.

She only got more confused when she saw some of the other participants putting themselves between Lucian and SMG4, shielding the man from being arrested. She saw some of the people she had gotten to know on the tour getting ready to fight the guards.

Grinnames: ???????

Grinnames: Did I miss something?

Grinnames: I’m confused here. Don’t they know that that is dangerous? They seemed like rationally-minded people.

...

“Dear employees and visitors, we are currently facing a vermin problem. Until the issue is resolved, the whole building will be going on lockdown starting now.”

Grinnames felt her stomach tie up as she saw the windows locking up with metallic sheets, blocking out the light with a clang. She could hear similar clangs echoing throughout the studio, and the room darkened from the lack of sunlight.

An unwanted memory bubbled up...

Cold walls. Cold voices. Unable to move. Trapped behind metal and glass. No way out-

Grinnames: Guys…? This is triggering some repressed memories right now…! I don’t like being trapped!! This isn’t funny!

Wr3n appears.

Grinnames: Oh god, we’re in S*w. It’s gonna be a Squ*d Game isn’t it…? Oh god oh god oh god oh god-

Grinnames’s panic overtakes her mind. She rushes to Mr. Puzzles on the ground, and lifts him up by his shirt collar, ignoring the protests of the small white squirrel that was trying to tend to him.

@niranutcake

Grinnames: WAKE UP YOU STUPID OLD MAN YOUR COWBOY ALEXA AI CHATBOT EFFING TRAPPED US AND I AM GOING TO GO FERAL

(And she slaps him too, to the horror of said small white squirrel)

Grinnames: IF YOU DON’T WAKE UP NOW I AM GOING TO EAT YOUR LEGS AND SUE YOU SO HARD, I REPEAT. I WILL EAT YOUR LEGS-

“If you want me to lift the lockdown, you have a choice.”

Grinnames abruptly looks up, and lets go of Mr. Puzzles. He crashes unceremoniously back to the floor. It’s kinda of funny.

“Option 1: You take out 4 over there and I will give you a free pass! Tour is over, the problem solved, you all can go home!”

Grinnames: ...Tempting. Cowabunga it i-!

No.

...Why was the voice so loud this time?

“Option 2: You wake up the big boss and he can decide what to do with you.”

Hm, slapping the boss awake and telling him (very gently and calmly) that she was going to sue him for this overkill of an AI security system also sounded like a good plan. But at the same time, she also kind of liked him better on the floor.

“Option 3: You outlaws do neither of those and we can enjoy playing a game of tag. I’m sure I can take care of this whole issue myself within the hour! So, choose wisely. Happy trails!”

Grinnames: BRING IT ON, WE CAN TAKE IT- oh wait not everyone is as strong as me. Shoot…

She would have liked those odds if there weren't so many other people that might not be able to take it.

...

Lucian: I will leave the choice on what to do up for you to decide. We need to work together here not against. Though, there is an option that wasn’t mentioned by the System: The lockdown can manually be manually overwritten in the Control Room. So, we have four choices: Arrest SMG4 after all, get Puzzles to the Health Department, try to reach security or make our best run to the exit which, quite frankly, is just insane.

He raised his hands in defense.

Lucian: Up to you. I know I’m probably getting into trouble after this either way.

Grinnames drew in a breath, calming the storm in her mind and gathering her thoughts.

On one hand, arresting SMG4 seemed very tempting right now. Her first priority right now is to escape, and make sure that no one gets hurt. The quickest way to do so was to arrest the man now, then she could just leave this place without getting entangled in anything unnecessary. She really just wanted to go home now, and a mad meme guardian is too dangerous for this world. His former friends had been very hurt by him, she remembered the way they clammed up when SMG4 was brought up into the conversation. Or at least, it seemed that way.

But on the other hand, she was beginning to doubt that he was even insane at all. The way he held himself and the way he talked did not line up at all with the man she had envisioned. Or he could just be very good at acting. Could have used that acting to fool her like he did with his friends. 

But…she also didn’t want to wrongly accuse someone, for she knew what that felt like all too well. And a lot of the participants were defending the man. She didn’t want to have to fight all of them. And her gut and the mysterious-but-weirdly-accurate voice in her own head was not agreeing with taking down SMG4 either. God, she hated moral dilemmas. There seemed to be no easy way out of this.

Alright, here’s a different plan. Why don’t we stay as neutral and unassuming as possible, and just focus on protecting everyone until we gather enough information? 

The voice sounded louder and clearer now, but not as forceful. It seemed to be trying to reason with her instead. Was it some part of her subconscious trying to… compromise? She blinked and shook her head. She could worry about the origins of this mysterious voice later. And what it was telling her didn’t seem so bad. 

Grinnames looks up to see Rayas… not looking so good. Not in the stressed and scared kind of way, but she looked… weak. Sickly. The fox-like creature had only known her for a few minutes, yet had treated her so nicely. She needed to return the favor.

Grinnames floated on over to Rayas. 

Grinnames: Hey. Don’t pass out on me now, ‘kay? Here! Um, have some sand! I usually eat sand, it perks me right up!

Rayas blinks sleepily up at her, struggling to stay conscious.

Grinnames: Hey hey hey, nononono, I was kidding! You’re probably not hungry right now! Here, I’ll just carry you then. Do I have permission to pick you up?

Rayas gave Grinnames a nod for consent. Grinnames gently scoops up Rayas in her ribbons, safely cocooning her. 

@lrayasostripes

…

The only thing she knew for sure at this point was that she didn’t want anyone to get hurt. (And that Mr. Puzzles was probably a villain.) She would continue to choose herself and the people she cared about. Like Micheal. And Rayas. And Half-Moon Face.

@michaelscorneroftheinternet @purpdrawsthings

Come to think of it, where even is Micheal anyway? He had been kind of... off, all day. There he was, in the back of the crowd, hands still folded rigidly behind his back. Observing. She thought he would have been more excited to see SMG3. But despite the wide smile he had plastered on his face, his expressions felt... muted. Was he trying to keep his cool and not fanboy too hard in front of everyone? She really wanted to check up on him, but now was not the time.

Grinnames firmly makes up her mind: she’s going to go to the Security Department to blow out this blasted Lockdown System, protect everyone she can, and then give Mr. Puzzles a piece of her mind. She is filled with petty spite right now. It felt better than being confused and frazzled. She needed to take her stress out on something. 

Plus, she hated AI technology. She wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to show that cowboy bot who it was messing with.

Grinnames: I say that we go for the security system and override the lockdown! With Mr. Lucian and numbers on our side, I'm sure we can do it! 

She turns back to the group, and sees that half were deciding to go to the Security Department and the other deciding to drag Mr. Puzzles to the Health Department. Grinnames set down Rayas first. She didn't want to bring a tired person into possible danger. Then she picked up the pace and jogged after them. 

Grinnames knows it’s time to lock in, so that everyone can be safe. She didn’t think that she would have to use her hunting weapons today.

Grinnames’s ribbons coil up, around and around, twisting into the shape of large, meaty tentacles. Black void-like substance fills the middle, completing her ribbons’ true, monstrous form. The tentacles make a crackling, hissing sound as they materialize.

She’s fully expecting bullets to fly, and these tentacles would protect her and her friends. Grinnames's mouth curls into an angry smirk, flashing her fangs.

Grinnames: Bring it on, you stupid building! I’ll tear you apart!

She catches up to Half-Moon Face, who has also decided to go raid the Security Department. She sees that they also have a wide evil grin on their face. A kindred soul. It fuels the fire burning within.

As she steps with purpose to face the possible dangers ahead, she passes SMG4. 

Grinnames: Meme guardian. We should talk later. Don’t get yourself arrested until I say so, alright?

Time to break the system, like a boss.

Man I can't believe I put like three memes in here

Grinnames Lore-drops here!:

She is canonically knowledgeable about meme-guardians and the avatar.

Her ribbons are able to carry items as heavy as cars.

The ribbons are actually just tentacles in disguise! When in their true form, they are more durable, and can take a few bullet wounds. But even they have their limits. Sharp objects like swords are more effective on them. She can also grow them back, but at a cost...

Dark backstory...

[skywalker1dream]

Title: reconnecting

Max verstappen x reader

Summary: Years after drifting apart from childhood best friend Max Verstappen, you find yourself unexpectedly reunited during a family-planned summer holiday in Spain. Despite your initial reluctance to join, you discover that old bonds can reignite in the most unexpected ways.

Warning: none?

---

The sun was setting over the picturesque Spanish coast, casting a golden glow over the sprawling summer house your families had rented. You stared out the car window, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and irritation. Nostalgia, because you had spent countless summers with the Verstappens as a child. Irritation, because you hadn't wanted to come on this trip at all.

"Come on, it'll be fun," your mother had insisted, practically dragging you along. "You used to love spending time with them."

"Yeah, when I was ten," you muttered under your breath. But arguing with your mom had never been fruitful, so here you were, stepping out into the warm evening air, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Your family was greeted warmly by Max's parents. You exchanged polite hugs and greetings, trying to push down the awkwardness. The house was stunning, with whitewashed walls and a terrace that overlooked the sparkling Mediterranean Sea.

You were just about to head to your room when a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. "Hey, stranger."

You turned around, heart pounding, and there he was. Max Verstappen. He looked older, more mature, but his eyes still had that same mischievous glint.

"Max?" you managed to say, your voice catching in your throat.

"In the flesh," he replied with a grin. "Long time no see."

---------

Later that evening, after the initial shock had worn off and dinner was served on the terrace, you found yourself sitting next to Max. The conversation flowed easily among the adults, but you and Max were a bit more reserved.

"So," Max said, breaking the silence between you two, "what have you been up to all these years?"

You shrugged, poking at your salad. "Just life, I guess. School, work. The usual. You?"

Max chuckled. "I think you know what I've been up to."

"Yeah, I guess following your career doesn't really count as keeping in touch, huh?" You smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

He nodded, his expression softening. "I missed you, you know. We used to be inseparable."

"Yeah, well, life happens," you said, a bit more sharply than you intended.

Max winced. "I'm sorry. I should have tried harder to keep in touch."

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. "It's not all on you. I could have reached out too."

He looked at you, his gaze intense. "Then let's make up for lost time."

-----------

The next few days were a blur of sun, laughter, and rediscovery. You and Max fell back into a rhythm that felt both new and familiar. You found yourselves staying up late, talking about everything and nothing. One night, as you both sat on the terrace, the stars twinkling above, Max turned to you.

"Do you remember that summer when we were ten, and we tried to build a treehouse?"

You laughed. "Yeah, it was more like a pile of sticks than a treehouse."

Max grinned. "We were so determined though. I kind of miss that."

"Miss what? Failing at building things?"

He shook his head. "No. Just... us. The way we used to be."

You looked at him, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Me too."

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

As the days passed, it became clear that this trip was more than just a family reunion. It was a chance to rebuild something you both thought was lost. And as you sat together on the beach, watching the waves crash against the shore, you realized that sometimes, life has a way of bringing you back to where you belong.

Max turned to you, his eyes reflecting the ocean. "So, what do you say? Think we can give this friendship another shot?"

You smiled, feeling lighter than you had in years. "Yeah, I think we can."

And maybe, just maybe, it could be something more.

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

The summer house buzzed with the sounds of laughter and conversation. It felt like old times, but with an edge of something new and unspoken. You and Max had grown, and so had the dynamics between you.

Years after drifting apart from childhood best friend Max Verstappen, you find yourself unexpectedly reunited during a family-planned summer holiday in Spain. Despite your initial reluctance to join, you discover that old bonds can reignite in the most unexpected ways.

One afternoon, as you were chatting with Max in the garden, your mother approached, a wide smile on her face. "[your name], have you met the new neighbors? They're a lovely family. Their son, Aaron, is around your age."

You shot her a look, sensing her ulterior motives. "Uh, no, I haven't met them yet."

Max's expression shifted slightly, a hint of irritation flickering in his eyes.

"Well, you should come meet them. They're joining us for a barbecue tonight," your mother continued.

"Sure, Mom," you replied, trying to hide your reluctance.

That evening, as everyone gathered on the terrace for the barbecue, you were introduced to Aaron. He was friendly, charming, and clearly interested in getting to know you. You couldn't help but notice Max's jaw tighten every time Aaron made you laugh.

"So, [your name]," Aaron said, his eyes sparkling, "what do you do?"

Before you could answer, Max cut in. "She's actually really talented. She works in marketing and has a knack for creative projects."

You raised an eyebrow at Max. "I can speak for myself, you know."

Aaron laughed, oblivious to the tension. "That's impressive. Maybe you can give me some tips. I'm starting my own business and could use some marketing advice."

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I'd be happy to help."

Max excused himself abruptly, muttering something about getting more drinks. You watched him go, feeling a mix of confusion and concern.

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

Later that night, you found Max sitting alone on the beach, staring out at the dark waves. You approached cautiously. "Hey, you okay?"

He glanced up at you, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, just needed some air."

You sat down beside him. "You seemed a bit off tonight."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... I don't know. Seeing you with Aaron, I guess I felt a bit... jealous."

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. "Jealous? Why?"

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours. "Because I realized I don't want to lose you again. Not to anyone."

Your heart pounded in your chest. "Max, you won't lose me. We're just reconnecting."

He shook his head. "It's more than that. I think it always has been."

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

The next day, the tension between you and Max was palpable. Your families noticed, and during breakfast, Max's mother, Sophie, leaned over to your mother. "Those two have always had a special bond, haven't they?"

Your mother nodded, a knowing smile on her lips. "Yes, they have. Maybe this summer will be good for them."

As the day wore on, you tried to focus on enjoying the holiday, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Max and his confession. You decided to confront the situation head-on.

That evening, you found Max in the kitchen, helping to prepare dinner. "We need to talk," you said, your voice firm.

He looked at you, his expression wary. "Okay."

You took a deep breath. "About what you said last night. Do you really mean it?"

Max set down the knife he was holding and turned to face you fully. "I do. I think I've always felt this way, but I didn't realize it until now."

Your heart raced as you stepped closer. "Then why did you let us drift apart?"

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I was young and stupid. I thought I needed to focus on racing, and everything else fell by the wayside. Including you."

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Well, we're here now. And we have a chance to start over."

Max's eyes softened as he covered your hand with his. "I'd like that. A lot."

---------

Over the next few days, the dynamic between you and Max shifted. There was a new closeness, an unspoken understanding that something more was blooming between you. The jealousy that had sparked in Max whenever Aaron was around seemed to dissipate as he grew more confident in your feelings for him.

One evening, as you and Max walked along the beach, he stopped and turned to you, taking both of your hands in his. "I've been thinking a lot about us," he said softly.

You looked up at him, your heart pounding. "And?"

"And I don't want to waste any more time," he said, his eyes intense. "I want to be with you, [your name]. For real."

You smiled, feeling tears of happiness prick at the corners of your eyes. "I want that too."

He leaned in, and as his lips met yours, you felt the past melt away, replaced by the promise of a future together.

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

The days that followed your confession on the beach were filled with a heady mix of tension and passion. You and Max were inseparable, yet the simmering emotions between you both seemed to heighten with each passing moment.

One particularly hot afternoon, as you lounged by the pool, Aaron sauntered over, his charming smile firmly in place. "Hey, [your name], up for a swim?"

You glanced at Max, who was sitting nearby, his eyes narrowing slightly at Aaron's approach. "Sure, why not," you replied, feeling a bit mischievous.

As you and Aaron splashed around in the pool, Max's gaze grew darker. He tried to focus on his book, but his eyes kept drifting to where you were laughing with Aaron.

Aaron swam closer, his playful demeanor making you laugh even more. "You know, I was thinking we could go into town tomorrow. There's this great market I think you'd love."

"That sounds fun," you said, catching Max's glare from the corner of your eye.

Max couldn't take it anymore. He stood up abruptly, the deck chair scraping against the tiles. "Actually, we have plans tomorrow," he said, his voice tight.

You turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "We do?"

Max nodded, not breaking eye contact. "Yes, I thought we could explore that secluded beach we talked about."

You saw the determination in his eyes and decided to play along. "Oh, right. The beach. Sorry, Aaron, maybe another time."

Aaron looked between you and Max, realizing he was outmatched. "No problem, maybe another time then."

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

That evening, the tension between you and Max was palpable. You found yourselves alone in the living room, the flickering light from the fireplace casting shadows on the walls.

"Was that really necessary?" you asked, crossing your arms.

Max stepped closer, his eyes burning with intensity. "Yes, it was. I can't stand seeing you with him."

Your breath hitched as he closed the distance between you. "Max, he's just a friend."

"I know," he said, his voice low and rough. "But I...."

He reached out, gently cupping your face. The world seemed to stop as he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair.

The kiss deepened, filled with all the longing and passion that had built up between you. Max's hands roamed down your back, pulling you closer, as if afraid you'd disappear if he let go.

You broke the kiss, breathless, and looked into his eyes. "Max, we need to talk about this."

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours. "I know. But right now, I just want you. Is that okay?"

You answered by kissing him again, your lips moving with an urgency that matched his. The tension and passion swirled around you, making it impossible to think clearly.

As the minutes turned into hours, you found yourselves tangled together on the couch, the intensity of your make-out session leaving you both breathless and wanting more.

-----------

The next morning, you woke up wrapped in Max's arms. He looked down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Morning," he murmured.

"Morning," you replied, stretching. "About last night..."

He kissed your forehead. "I meant every word. I want to be with you."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I want that too, Max."

Just then, your mother knocked on the door, interrupting the moment. "[Your name], Max, breakfast is ready."

You sighed, reluctantly pulling away from Max. "Coming, Mom!"

As you made your way downstairs, Aaron was already at the table, chatting with your families. He looked up, a curious expression on his face. "Morning, [your name] Did you sleep well?"

You felt Max's hand on the small of your back, a silent claim. "Yes, thank you," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Aaron's gaze flickered to Max's hand, then back to you. "So, about that trip to town..."

Max's grip tightened slightly. "Actually, we're still planning to visit that secluded beach today."

You shot Max a look, then turned to Aaron. "Maybe another time, Aaron. But thank you."

Aaron smiled, but there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Of course. Enjoy your day."

-----------

The drive to the secluded beach was filled with a mix of comfortable silence and playful banter. Once there, you and Max spread out a blanket on the sand, the sound of the waves creating a serene backdrop.

As you sat together, Max took your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. "I can't believe how quickly things have changed," he said softly.

You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body. "Maybe it was always meant to be this way."

He looked at you, his eyes filled with emotion. "I don't want to waste any more time. I want us to be together, for real."

You smiled, your heart swelling with happiness. "I want that too, Max. More than anything."

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that promised a future filled with love and passion. As the sun set over the horizon, you knew that this was just the beginning of your journey together, and you couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

----------

And...that's it I think I will write part 2...tell me what do you think..byee

[flowers-in-october]

Speculation on 8x18 and what I think the odds are for buddie canon or feelings realization in this episode

ok so i rewatched 8x17 and now that the initial shock and dizziness has worn off, i can actually think again, and yeah... it’s pretty clear what they’re doing with buddie in 8x18. it’s not going to be about any romantic shift, it’s just eddie realizing he doesn’t want to be away when the 118 is in danger. he couldn’t save bobby, and that wrecked him, so now he’s going to be coming back to the team to make sure he can save them this time. that’s it. that’s the arc.

and look, maybe we’ll get some emotional scenes that feel a little charged if you squint. maybe a few glances, a meaningful line. stuff that feels like something if you’re already looking for it. but in terms of actual development? i think this is it. this is what we’re getting. because in 17, the whole point was eddie feeling guilty, and if this is a two-parter, then 18 is just gonna close that loop. eddie acts on the guilt, fixes what he can, and that’s the closure. not a confession. not a shift. just resolution to what they set up in 17. its probably gonna be fairly best friend-coded between buddie, maybe a bit family-coded but nothing new or out of the ordinary and honestly they’ve reached the peak of that dynamic ten times over already and it’s tired.

also i’m fairly certain that eddie’s apology in 17 was most of the emotional payoff for buddie that were going to get. i don’t think they’re touching the tension again in 18. they wrapped it up and they’re moving on. probably straight into bobby grief and the teams sadness.

and honestly that’s why i was so mad when they killed bobby because without that death hanging over everything, we could’ve gotten eddie choosing to come home himself and that would’ve hit so much harder for both of these characters. eddie having autonomy over his life and chasing after something he wants. buck watching someone he loves who had to leave choose to come back to him. that’s the kind of story that leads to feelings realization and buddie canon not whatever is happening here.

also, if buddie was going canon? they’d tease something in the synopsis. a name. a breadcrumb. anything. but there’s truly nothing which tells me they’re not even close to the A plot. and i’m sorry, but they’re not going canon in a C plot.

so yeah. maybe eddie moves back in. maybe we get a half-second of soft domesticity, but he’ll just end up on the couch probably after a throwaway line about someone moving out later. it’s crumbs, if anything.

hope i’m wrong. i want so badly to be wrong. but i’m bracing myself.