#would they DARE to do something i do NOT fully expect to happen in the next event???

[until-the-house-shakes]

First Day of Hogwarts

Wolfstar raising Regulus / Werewolf! Regulus

Microfic

-

Regulus’ first day at Hogwarts went well, much better than Remus thought. Despite being under his and Sirius’ care for a little over a year, the kid was still a nervous wreck with an uncontrollable temper, especially on the week of the Full. Remus wouldn’t lie and say he had no doubts about the young werewolf having a perfect first day. He still remembers his own first day, ten years ago, and how terrifying and anger inducing it was- and it wasn’t anywhere close to a Full! But despite all the odds, Regulus seemed to have a perfect day.

The sorting ceremony was what Remus feared the most. All the Marauders told Regulus a million times over that none of them would think of him any differently when he got sorted into his house. Sure, they were all Gryffindors, but they weren’t about to be like the poor kid’s parents and scare him into begging for the same house. They all wanted for him to be sorted fairly.

Plus they all had a few running bets on what house Regulus would he sorted into. Sirius and James- ever the fanboys of their own house- fully believed he would be a Gryffindor, while Remus and Lily thought he would be a Ravenclaw. Peter was the odd man out with Hufflepuff (‘I don’t actually believe it but imagine how mental everyone would go if I am correct’). And lastly with Slytherin was Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas- Marlene’s Slytherin girlfriend who Regulus was infatuated by.

To only Regulus’ surprise, the dusty old hat screamed ‘RAVENCLAW’ the second it touched the boy’s black curls. The young werewolf shot his gaze over to the older werewolf, looking a mix of shocked and terrified, but when he saw the jaw breaking smile his guardian wore, he instantly felt much better about his placement and rushed over to the Ravenclaw table. Once everyone was sorted, Regulus was crowded by three other Ravenclaw first-years; A boy named Barty, and a set of twins- Evan and Pandora Rosier. Even though Remus didn’t know anything about the kids, it was safe to say that Regulus found his ‘forever mates’ as Sirius would call them.

-

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Remus was now fully unpacked and settled into his professor suite, and was about to change into his pajamas before he heard a soft knock at the door. “Coming.” Remus called out, a bit confused on who could be knocking so late into the night, and on the first night no less.

To his surprise, the sight of neat black curly hair, and a much too big jumper on a small pale boy, welcomed Remus. “Cub, what are you doing here?” He stepped aside so Regulus could enter his room, and the small boy did exactly that, before turning around and throwing himself into Remus’ arms. The older man was quick to pick up the smaller boy, allowing him to get as close to him as possible. Remus closed the door and walked to his bed, sitting them both down.

“Cub, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Remus gently rocked the boy back and forth, rubbing his back- trying to offer as much comfort to the kid as possible.

“This is all too much. I’m scared and I want Siri.” Regulus whimpered, not daring to take his face away from the crook of Remus’ neck. That was always his favorite place to hide when he was overwhelmed or upset and it wouldn’t change for a long while.

“We can floo call him. I’m sure he will love to talk to you.” Remus felt awful hearing how scared his cub was. Hogwarts was meant to be a fresh start for him. He no longer had to deal with big expectations from abusive family, hell he was already on his own path by being sorted into Ravenclaw. Remus thought he was in safe hands, especially after seeing how nice the other first-years were with him. But he should have known that his sensitive, traumatized, and dramatic cub would have had some sort of breakdown by the end of the first week, he just wasn’t expecting it to be the first day.

“Please? I really want Siri.”

-

An hour has passed, and Regulus was now fast asleep in Remus’ bed with the older werewolf gently brushing his curls with his fingers. The floo call was only about thirty minutes long. It consisted of Regulus talking about his new friends, Sirius promising the both of them that he is perfectly fine alone, and a new story about baby Harry and a frazzled James and Lily.

Once the call ended, all hell seemed to break loose, however. Regulus instantly started crying again, saying he didn’t want to go back to his dorm- that the boys scared him and he wanted to go back home for good.

“Cubby, is there something you’re not telling me?” Remus sighed, trying his hardest to get to the bottom of what was truly bothering his kid. It’s been fifteen minutes since the call ended, and Regulus was still quietly crying to himself, curled up in Remus’ lap.

“…Barty had this book. About magical creatures… and the cover had a werewolf on it. He talked about how scary werewolves were and how he wanted to meet one to see if they’re really as awful as everyone says they are.” The whispered words broke Remus’ heart. It was only the first night at Hogwarts, and Regulus was already facing discrimination for his ‘furry little problem’.

“Oh cub, I’m sure that was scary. I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.” Remus was already thinking of ways to deal with that little shit. He could talk to Flitwick about moving Regulus to stay with the second years, or he could talk to Dumbledore about moving Regulus into his own suite for the time being. It was hard for the young werewolf to trust anyone, especially kids his own age, and maybe forcing him to share a room with rude, snotty nosed children wasn’t the best idea! He should be allowed to settle into school for a few weeks, and then slowly integrate sharing a room with those assholes into his routine.

“They seemed so nice, but… now I’m scared. I don’t want to go back in there.” Regulus’ small voice took Remus out of his own internal rants. “Trust me Cub, you won’t go back there until you’re ready.” Remus kissed the top of Regulus’ head, sealing his promise.

The kid fell asleep not long after their short conversation, and remus has spent that time watching his cub sleep peacefully in his bed, playing with his hair, and thinking of all the ways he can keep him safe. Remus was already a very protective (‘possessive’ if you ask Sirius) person, but when it comes to Moony’s cub? He was another form of protective. He really hoped that Barty gets better, because he didn’t feel up to getting thrown in Azkaban for nearly killing a child.

-

As if it was a pattern, right before he could fall asleep himself, there was another knock at the door. Remus couldn’t help the unconscious growl that came from his gut. Who in their right mind wants to bother him and his cub this late at night?

“Hello?” Remus grumbled, opening the door to see two small boys. The same two small boys he saw at the Ravenclaw table with Regulus earlier that evening- which means one of these assholes were the reason why his cub spent the last hour crying and terrified.

They better have a good ass reason for being here.

“Professor Lupin, I’m Evan, this is Barty. Is Regulus here? He ran out of the dorm room crying an hour or so ago and we’re really worried about him. We’ve been all over the castle looking for him and I really hope he’s here. If not… we might have some issues.” The kid- Evan, said while rocking back and forth on his feet. It was clear both boys looked terrified. Whether it was about the wellbeing of their roommate or it was fear of facing the wrath of Regulus’ guardian- Remus wasn’t sure.

“I’m really sorry to bother you sir, but we’re both very worried… and thought you should know as his dad.” The last part took Remus by surprise. His dad? Did Regulus really tell these two boys that he was Regulus’ dad?

Huh.

Remus did not mind that one bit.

“Yeah, he’s in here. Got really homesick and wanted some comfort. Thank you for checking on him, but I promise he’s safe with me. You two should head back to your own beds and go to sleep. You’ll see him tomorrow.” Remus assured the two boys before sending them off back to their dorms.

Maybe they weren’t all that bad, they did seem genuinely worried about Regulus.

But their worry wasn’t what had Remus’ spirits so high.

‘As his dad’

Regulus saw him as his dad.

[fisheito]

yal'rlready comin for me about that next event preview and i'm like *prepares the salmon cannon, anew*

[wisecura]

'Hate' Is A Strong Word

Izuku Midoriya x f!reader 5k

summary: for some reason, you've never liked Izuku Midoriya. call it bad vibes, a deep seated irritation, or just plain off-putting, you two just never connected. and even now as pro heroes you haven't uttered a single word to each other since high school. yet, you find yourself badly injured at his doorstep.

warnings: might be repetitive, gaslighting, manipulation, non-canon, dark fic, some blood, belittling, confinement, please don't read if you are sensitive to bad things happening to reader,

an: I haven't kept up with this fandom much but I still enjoy it. i've been busy with work and school. sadly, not fully proofread, but thank you for reading

You never quite took to Izuku Midoriya, even from the start. 

There was something about him. A nagging feeling that buzzed in the back of your mind whenever he was near.

He was the kind of guy everyone liked—or at least, no one dared to openly dislike. Shy, awkward, but undeniably kind, Izuku was the sort who'd go out of his way to help a stranger. Always pushing for justice, always the hero in waiting, the kind of well-rounded individual you'd expect to be universally admired. 

And yet, something about him set off alarms in your gut from the very first day you met. It was your first year in high school, you'd arrived at UA high, thrilled to be accepted into the hero course.

This is when you saw him.

He'd been introducing himself to other classmates, nothing different from the norm. Maybe it was the look in his eyes when they caught yours. The way he shyly moved over to greet you. Maybe it was the way he seemed to interrogate question you on your quirk, and from your understanding he kept tabs on everyone. It could've been the way his eyes seemed to trail you when you evaded his conversation, feeling odd at the line of questioning. You had no idea why every instinct tell you to keep your distance.

You did attempt friendship in those early years, especially when you noticed how easily he drew people in. Once all was settled in, he seemed to be a magnet, attracting the class in with his friendliness. Maybe that initial encounter had been a fluke? You thought that just maybe you were being overly dramatic—after all, Izuku was the epitome of harmlessness, always eager to lend a hand. No one else seemed to have an issue with him, even with his more...odd habits.

But despite your efforts, you just couldn't shake it off. Those creepy vibes you got. So you chalked it up to not meshing well. But you always watched from a distance, and continued your years making friends and overall enjoying the coursework.

Years passed, and both of you rose through the ranks to become pro heroes. 

Izuku, now known universally as Deku, consistently ranked in the top five—a celebrity in the world of pro heroes. Meanwhile, you held a respectable nineteenth place, not one for popularity races, and never quite as concerned with fame as you were with making tangible changes in the world. Not that he wasn't doing his part-

Deku was a household name, his exploits and acts of heroism the stuff of daily newsfeeds. The latest articles highlighted not just his achievements but his physical transformation too—he was now a striking 6’1", his features having matured into what many would consider handsome, listing out other measurements you hadn’t bothered to read about.

Yet, reading about him, seeing his photos splashed across the media, always stirred an inexplicable twist in your stomach. You had no logical reason to feel this way, yet the discomfort was undeniable. You still didn't like the dude.

Your interactions had been minimal since high school, limited to brief exchanges during professional gatherings. You weren’t friends, not really. But he was always friends of a friend with you. It was always weird to hear about him, and you tried to never ask-to never listen in when your friends talked about him.

And, now, as you scrolled through your phone, one hand pressed against your bleeding side, the irony of the situation didn't escape you.

This part of town was supposed to be safe, but here you were. Far from home and in trouble, late at night.

You needed to find somewhere to go—someone to plug this shit up. Your manager had recently updated your contacts with a list of “reliable partners” for emergencies—pretty handy timing, considering the mess you were in now. All listed with safe houses should you need it—your managers words echoing in the back of your mind: 'you'd better not be seen by anyone from the public'.

You had been on a secret mission, something big, something not everyone could handle. But your quirk was a perfect fit—or so you thought until things went south.

The leader of the crime ring turned out to be a lot tougher than the brief said, and instead of nabbing him quietly, you got roughed up pretty bad.

Glancing at your phone, the recommended safe locations popped up. And just your luck—it had to be him.

You frowned at the screen—thumb brushing down the refresh button desperately, but no other options seemed to be loading. There had to be someone else, but why wasn’t the stupid app showing anything?

Of course. Of-fucking-course. Whatever, beggars can’t be choosers, right?

Better not to bleed out on the pavement. You were sure your manager would kill you if this wound up in the newspapers.

Gritting your teeth, you pushed through the pain, straightening up as best you could. You tried to walk confidently into the lobby of a ridiculously upscale apartment building. It was way fancier than necessary, making you feel all the more out of place.

You barely reached the counter when the man behind it did a double-take. “Miss—““—I’m here to see Izuku Midoriya, please,” you cut him off before he could delve into questions you had no energy to answer.

He looked surprised for a moment, then turned his back to you to make the call. You could hear his hushed tones, and an even softer voice through the other end of the intercom. You couldn't make out what they were saying—maybe it was the blood loss affecting your concentration.

“Top floor, Miss—““—Thanks.” You turn away quickly, unable to keep a slight wobble from your steps. You hadn’t meant to be rude. You just really needed to sit down. 

You were a vision of resilience and grace as you press the elevator button, smearing the elevator door button in your own blood. The ride up feels like a century, each ding reminding you of the ticking clock against your injuries. You had time to turn back. To not face whatever was beyond the elevator doors. Did he open his home as a safe location often? What were you thinking—this was Deku—of course he did—

As the doors finally open, you're met with the minimalist, yet luxurious hallway leading to the penthouse suite—his suite.

It's been years since you've last even spoke to Izuku Midoriya, and now, under these circumstances, you're about to see him again.

Funny how fate plays its cruel games, huh?

Stepping out, you hesitate for just a moment before your survival instincts push you forward. Your fist meets the door, the knock more feeble than you intended. It's only a matter of seconds before the door swings open, revealing Izuku Midoriya in person.

He's taller, broader, and his eyes—those damn eyes—haven't changed a bit. He's definitely lost that baby face, his features much more defined, almost handsome. The sight of him makes your heart race for reasons you can't even begin to pin down before that deep voice reaches your ears.

"Shit, you look like hell," wide eyed, he blurts out. "What happened?"

You try to muster a smile, but all you manage is a grimace. "Got into a bit of trouble. Mind if I come in? Kinda bleeding out here," you quip, half-joking, but entirely serious.

He doesn't hesitate, grabbing your arm, gently but firmly, as he helps you inside. "Of course, come in. What are friends for?" he says, though you both know the term 'friends' might be a stretch, you sure as hell weren't gonna comment on it now.

Oddly enough, he doesn't press you for more details, instead guiding you to the sofa. "Let me look at that wound," he says, already moving to fetch a first aid kit and a towel. You feel somewhat guilty at your thoughts as you watch him, his movements efficient and practiced. What if you bled out onto his couch? And now that'll be the first thing on his mind when he sees it? what're you even thinking?

How often has he done this? You mind briefly flashes back to a news report you'd seen recently, of him saving a group of people from a hostage situation turned deadly. And despite your reservations about him, you can't help but feel a reluctant admiration stirring within you. That and this. He really wasn't a bad dude. Maybe a bit awkward, but who wasn't?

You raise your shirt slightly, exposing the expanse of your stomach, an audible sigh from him before his hands find their way to clean the area, surprisingly gentle.

It's a strange intimacy, one you make damn sure to ignore. In other situations you may have blushed, leading with a 'buy me drinks first' joke but you really didn't want to add to the moment.

"Do I want to ask how the other guy looks?" Izuku teases lightly, a break from his jaw tensing, a small smile playing on his lips. Despite yourself, a laugh escapes—bitter but genuine.

"Yeah, I may have gotten the short end here," you reply, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there that wasn’t present in your school days, a maturity that seems to fit him well. It annoys you, seeing how much he's grown into himself, into the hero everyone expected him to be. Was it jealousy? No, that couldn’t be it.

Sitting there, letting Izuku tend to your wounds, you can’t help but feel a twist in your stomach that’s not from the injury. It’s from the sheer absurdity of the situation—seeking help from someone you’ve always distrusted, yet here he is, proving to be the hero he always aimed to be. Not asking for anything in return, always helpful, always willing.

And, yes, that bugged the shit out of you. You were wrong.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" His eyes flick back over to you, stilling your breath. He lets out another sigh, unwrapping the bandage from his kit.

"The Gokudo Group, right?" You look away, refusing to meet his heavy gaze. He didn't seem entirely happy with the direction of the conversation—

"How do you know about that?" The question sounded silly the second it left your mouth. A top pro hero knowing about a mission so close to his residence? It'd be stranger if he hadn't heard about it. He lets out another soft chuckle, and you feel yourself blush at the way it seemed to lick up your spine.

"Let's call it a guess." As he finishes bandaging your wound, his touch lingers a moment on your side, reminding you of his closeness.

"You should rest," he suggests, his voice soft, almost nonchalant. He seems to see no issue with the idea. A man. A woman. Alone in a pent house sweet. "Stay here tonight. It's late, and you're not in any condition to go anywhere."

You want to protest, to assert your independence, but the room tilts slightly as you try to sit up straighter, his grip tightening on your waist as you let out a small painful whimper. He doesn’t seem too put off by the idea of you staying, and realistically, blood loss was indeed a bitch.

"I guess...I don't have much choice," the words tasting sour on your tongue. For a fleeting moment, Izuku's seems like he wants to say something, fighting with his inner voice, before settling on something else.

"...Of course, you're always welcome here," he assures you, his tone dripping with a sincerity that feels too thick, too heavy. He stands, pressing a button on the wall to adjust the blinds, casting the room into a dim glow. He stands illuminated in a warm glow by the lamp in the corner. Your heart continues its gymnastics, flipping in ways you can't fucking believe.

"Let me get you some water, maybe something for the pain." As he disappears into the kitchen, you try to relax against the plush cushions of his sofa, feeling much more guilty at the thoughts you'd had not even thirty minute prior. This wasn't how you imagined your evening would end, and his kindness seemed to eat away at you by the second.

Your gaze drifts around the neatly kept space, landing on small, personal touches that seem innocuously domestic. Photographs of smiling faces, trophies from his hero work, books on strategy and quirk development. It's all so…Midoriya.

When he returns, he hands you a glass of water and a pill, his smile reassuring. "This will help with the pain," he says, and you take the small tablet from him, your fingers brushing against his, the contact somewhat nerve-wracking.

"Thanks," you whisper, downing the medicine without a second thought. He watched you closely for a second, another thought on the tip of his tongue before he decides to just sit down next to you. Not close enough to warrant a side glance, but close enough that you can smell his smooth cologne, a soothing fragrance that lingers in the back of your throat. A smell that was distinct, unforgettable.

"You know," hesitating, "...I always...hoped we'd get a chance to catch up," his voice a soft murmur blending into the backdrop of the city's faint sounds filtering through the window. You would've sworn he hadn't said anything if it wasn't for your good hearing. "...I've followed your career, you know. You're doing amazing things."

His words sound like a compliment, but you can't help but think: just how closely has he been watching me? The tension in the room was so fucking awkward....

And the comment was innocent enough, so you push the feeling aside, chalking it up to paranoia. He's being nice. He's being nice.

You literally have no reason to doubt him.

Whatever. You can't shake that nag, you're fighting with yourself just to lean into the small comfort he provided, but that itch keeps coming back the more he talks. Just keep your distance, like always, and make your exit in the morning before he wakes up. Maybe send a fruit basket when you get back home as a parting 'thank you' gift.

"Yeah, well, we've both been busy, I guess," He watches you a moment, his expression unreadable before offering a gentle smile. You let out a small yawn, scooting further into the couch. Further away from his spreading legs, hoping to convey your sleepiness.

"Very busy," he agrees, as he stands to grab a blanket from a nearby closet. Thankful for the space, you breath a sigh of relief. You jump when he comes back, yet his voice is gentle, and his movements are tender, almost loving, as he drapes the blanket over you.

You notice his hands tremble slightly—a nervous energy you remember all too well from your high school days. He's nervous. And it sets you on edge even more, despite the fact that he couldn't be more welcoming to you in this moment—a pillar of comfort and support. The blanket he brought was so fuzzy and warm. Your favorite color too.

"Looks like we finally get that catch-up session, huh?" he chuckles easily. You half-expected him to retreat to his room once you were settled, but here he was, still the same Midoriya, despite looking so incredibly different. Never fully catching that hint. You manage a weary smile, feeling the weight of your eyelids, barely still able to converse.

"Yeah, it's been a while. Life as a pro hero doesn't exactly leave much free time for reunions," Izuku nods enthusiastically, sliding a bit closer to you on the sofa until you can feel the warmth radiating from his leg just inches away. You subtly scoot away, maintaining a polite distance, his eyes wide, as he enthusiastically regals your most recent mission.

"That rescue mission form last week was just spectacular, the way you dove right in, you were just perfect, and those people you saved--" He stops himself, realizing he was about to go into a whirlwind. He lets out a nervous laugh, "Sorry,"

But you give him the best smile you can muster up with the gaping wound in your side. And subtly, almost unconsciously, his leg inches even closer to yours, again. You try to dismiss it, reminding yourself of how he always a little closer with his friends—maybe this is just another subconscious thing he did?

"Thanks, Midoriya. You’ve not done too badly yourself," you reply, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of humor. "Top five, right? I always knew you’d shoot up."

He absorbs your compliment, his face lighting up from the small bit of praise you've given him. His gaze narrows in, almost studying you, as if he’s trying to memorize your every expression.

When he speaks again, there's a hint of shyness in his voice, a subtle clinginess that feels slightly misplaced. "You know, I always thought maybe we’d end up working together, you know? Side by side." His voice dips a bit at the end, his eyes are earnest, almost pleading, as they search yours for a reaction.

"That’s...a....nice thought," deliberately avoiding his gaze, though the idea of being this close to him in any capacity would be too much, too soon.

Izuku’s expression momentarily falters, resembling a dejected puppy, and he quickly tries to mask his disappointment, shifting his demeanor to regain some of his earlier lightness. “But hey, we’re here now, right? Maybe it’s fate or something,” he jokes weakly, forcing another lighthearted laugh.

The word 'fate' hangs between you, heavy and foreboding. “Maybe,” you echo, not quite sharing in his forced cheer. The conversation pauses, leaving you acutely aware of the rapid beating of your own heart in the silence that follows.

"Yeah–heh–it’s been quite the journey," he admits, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "But....enough about me. Tell me about you. How have things been...really?"

You shift under the blanket, feeling a bit unnerved by his continued presence. Why didn't he just go to bed? You hadn't even talked much about him in the first place. Was he fishing for something?

"Busy, eventful, and endlessly tiring," you answer truthfully, hoping your frankness might send a subtle hint, topping it off with another yawn.

He nods, mouth quirking up in a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I can imagine. It must be hard, always being on the move—never able to find time for yourself, never able to catch up. Always the playing the 'hero'."

The way he says 'hero'—with a trace of something like displeasure—makes you pause, almost surprised. "...Well, someone's gotta do it, right?"

"Right, right," Izuku agrees, though his voice trails off, leaving a lingering question in the air. He seems to gather his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours.

"You know, I've always wondered..." his tone shifts slightly, becoming more contemplative, "why we never got along better. I mean, we were always in the same circles, kind of."

You feel a slight tightening in your chest as the topic veers dangerously close to the unease you've always felt around him. "Yeah, I guess we just had different…interests," you hedge, trying to keep the conversation light and steer away from deeper waters that you’d prefer not to navigate.

How exactly could you explain to him that you found him incredibly fucking creepy until now? And even now.....

Izuku's response is slow, thoughtful. "Maybe,"

He concedes, his tone reflecting a tinge of dissatisfaction, voice more probing and less subtle than you've ever heard it before. "But I've always respected you, you know? Always thought highly of your abilities."

"Thanks, Midoriya. That means a lot," you reply, not sure how to respond, not used to the praises from someone like him.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... I've always wanted to be...closer. To understand you better. I felt like we never really got the chance."

His words hang in the air, and you're hit by the raw honesty in his voice—an honesty that's bordering on confrontation or confession—you aren't sure. You scramble for a diplomatic response, your mind racing. You didn't want to upset him here, but you sure as hell weren't looking to become best buds.

"Midoriya, it’s not that we didn't get a chance. We just...didn’t.....vibe that way. It happens."

"But why?" His frustration is more evident this time, his voice tense, losing that more playful tone. "I’ve seen how you are with others—laughing, sharing. I just don't get why I never got that side of you."

"It’s nothing personal, Midoriya. I’ve always been more introverted....Maybe our timing was just....off or something."

But he just can't seem to let this go. He's always liked you, but you've always seemed to avoid him. He's never been able to figure it out.

"...I mean, it's not like I haven't tried, right?" he starts again, his tone becoming harsher, a drastic shift from his usual soft charisma. His fingers tap rhythmically against his knee, a clear sign of his restlessness. "I always asked about you, you know. Whenever I ran into someone who knew you, I made sure to find out how you were doing." The revelation sends a chill down your spine.

This could have been sweet—checking in on a friend—but his words sound creepier, like he was stalking you or something, and his intense gaze makes you recoil slightly.

"I just...I've always liked you. A lot, actually," he continues, his tone bordering on accusatory. "And I don't think you ever noticed. Or maybe you did and just didn't care."

"That’s…that's a lot to take in," you respond cautiously, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Yeah, well, it's been a lot for me too, watching from the sidelines. Always the hero everyone loves, except for the one person I actually wanted to impress," his voice rising slightly with frustration.

He continues rambling, each sentence more unsettling than the last. "I've kept tabs on you. I know it might sound weird, but I had to know. I thought if I knew more about what you liked, what you did, maybe I could find a way to be part of that." His confession sends a cold shiver down your spine.

"Isn't that just ridiculous?" he laughs, the sound hollow—bitter, filling the increasingly claustrophobic room. His eyes become distant and slightly frantic. He couldn’t stop himself.

"Midoriya, I think you’re reading too much into this—” you start, trying to defuse the tension, but he cuts you off. "No, I don't think so. I think you've always known how I felt. And you used it against me. Kept me at arm's length on purpose," he accuses, his voice turning harsh.

Witnessing Izuku transform from the awkward, 'lovable' hero you once knew into this intense, confirmed everything that nagged in the back of your head before. An anger issue? Ego problems?

"Everyone else always sees the best in me. Why couldn’t you? What made you so different?" he demands, his voice laden with a toxic mix of longing and bitterness. Finding yourself speechless, the situation spirals beyond your control. "Midoriya, please, this isn’t healthy. We should—”

"Healthy?" scoffing. "What do you know about healthy? You've barely even looked at me all these years. And now, you show up only when you need something? That's a bit contradictory, don't you think?"

The realization that you are alone with him, caught in this escalating situation, keeps you mind spiraling into a semi state of panic. Your sense heighted—fight or flight.

"You know, it's always been more than just platonic for me," his gaze cutting through the dimly lit room, locking onto you with an unsettling earnestness. He too close, too close, "I've cared about you in ways I probably shouldn't have. And I've waited...waited for you to see that."

"Midoriya, maybe we can talk about this tomorrow? It's been a long day, and I really think I should head home and rest," you suggest, reaching for your phone to call an Uber.

"You said you'd stay the night," he reminds you, snatching the phone quickly from your hands. "Are you really going to go back on your word now? After I've opened my home to you, treated your wounds?"

Caught off guard by his overt pushiness and blatant aggression, you stammer, "Hey—Midoriya, I didn't mean—"

"No, you never mean to, do you?" he cuts in, his tone increasingly harsh. "You come here, into my home, ask for my help, reject my friendship—once again, and now you want to leave just like that? It’s always the same with you. You take what you need and then you're gone."

"That's not fair, Midoriya. I appreciate everything you've done tonight, but I'm really not feeling well, and this conversation is a lot to process," you explain, trying to maintain your composure under his scrutinizing gaze.

Izuku's tone shifts, blending accusation with a hint of hurt, his face morphing into that lovable sad expression he wore on occasion. Much like a kicked puppy. "That isn't right. I thought you were a good person. I'm just trying to understand your problem with me. What's wrong with that?"

You take a deep breath, trying to center yourself amidst the emotional whirlwind he's creating. "Midoriya, trying to understand each other isn't the problem," you begin cautiously, "but the way you're going about it—it's overwhelming. It feels like you're not just asking for understanding—you're demanding a specific response from me, one that I'm not prepared to give."

His brow furrows, and his stance becomes defensive. "So, you're saying I'm overwhelming you? I'm some evil guy? Me? A top pro hero? After all these years of keeping my distance, the moment I try to be honest about my feelings, I'm suddenly too much?"

"No, that's not what I mean, Midoriya—please—"

Izuku’s question slices through the tense air, unexpected and jarring. “Do you have a boyfriend?” His tone holds an edge of possessiveness that makes you uneasy. The query, seemingly out of nowhere, is clearly aimed at gauging your 'availability'—challenging it.

“No, but that’s not the point,” but Izuku scoots in closer, his larger frame hovering over your laid back one. Yes, he was much bigger than he was in high school. And yes his broad shoulders stood out 3 inches past your own. You couldn't stop your panicked breathing, the situation too unbelievable.

As Izuku inches closer, his large frame overshadows you, physically cornering you against the back of the sofa. The space feels oppressively small, his presence suffocating. His voice carries a chilling mix of sweetness and venom that you've never heard before, unsettlingly different from the hero you thought you knew.

“So, let’s get this straight....again.,” you avoid his gaze, near impossible from how close he is, “You’ve never had time for me, always brushed off my attempts to be close, and now here you are, in my home, accepting my help after all these years. And you think you can just leave after that, like nothing happened?”

You feel a bit embarrassed when he puts it like that.

“Izuku, I just came here because I needed help, I never meant to—”

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? You needed help, and I was convenient for you,” he cuts you off, his voice soft but laced with a sharp edge. “Isn’t it funny how after all these years of avoiding me, suddenly I’m the one you run to when you’re vulnerable? Does that seem fair to you?”

“I’ve always cared about you, more than you know,” his voice lowering to a whisper. “I’ve watched you from afar, always hoping you’d look back. But you didn’t. And now here you are, finally seeing me, but only because you need something. Don’t you owe it to me to stay? After everything?”

His question hangs heavily in the air, charged with expectations you never consented to. Flustered and trying to maintain some sense of normalcy, you start to respond. “I-I’m sorry, Midoriya—”“—Izuku. Please, after all this time, don't you think you could call me by my first name? It’s like you’re still trying to keep me at arm’s length, even now,” The hurt very clear in his voice.

As you struggle to find the right words, trying to navigate the complex emotional minefield he specifically laid out, his next action catches you completely off guard. Without waiting for your consent, he suddenly shoots up, his arms scooping you up in a princess-style carry, far too easily, but expected from a bulky pro hero. The suddenness leaves you flabbergasted and flushing bright red.

"I-Izuku," you stammer, your voice tinged with shock and a hint of protest. "Ah, much better," he responds with a pleased smile. The smile he gives you is something else—wide and triumphant, as he carries you to another room.

The large room he brings you into is softly lit, the bed neatly made. You noticed a vanity on the side wall, feminine products lining the small shelf—eerily similar to the products you have in your cabinet at home. The room was set to your exact style, items you had at home—in your online wish list—were all here.

He sets you down gently on the bed, and the reality of the situation sinks in deeper. He observes you for a moment, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as if amused by your discomfort. As if he's observing a cute puppy, learning to walk on its own.

"Time for bed. I'll be back tomorrow." He turns to leave, and you reach out for him. "Izuku, wait—" voice laden with a plea for some semblance of normalcy—some answer to the questions you refused to voice, the room you were actively refusing to acknowledge.

"What's wrong?" he interjects with a grin, his tone cooing, demeaning, belittling. "You’re not going to ask me to tuck you in or stay the night, are you?" You could hear the underlying challenge. The jest sent to provoke something from you. "No, that’s not—I just think we need to talk about tonight," You're voice stead, yet you're on the brink of tears, the fear creeping up the back of your neck. A pro hero, a pro hero, he's a pro hero—

Izuku's face hardens at your words, his posture stiffening as he sits on the edge of the bed. "Talk? We’ve been talking all night. You said you wanted rest right?" he retorts defensively. "You’re safe here, aren’t you? I’m taking care of you, after all. What’s there to complain about?"

You know something isn’t right, but his aggressive pushback and the veiled mockery in his tone make you second-guess your instincts to speak up.

"Yeah, I...Thank you...Izuku," you find yourself saying, the words heavy on your tongue. The unease churns in your stomach, but the mean look in his eyes silences the protests forming in your mind. You lie back on the bed, covering yourself quickly, still in your street attire.

Izuku nods, seemingly satisfied with your subdued response. "See? That’s better. Just relax, I’ve got everything under control," he says, his tone soothing yet laced with a possessiveness that doesn’t escape you.

As he turns off the light and exits the room, leaving you in the dim glow of the nightlight, you're left to grapple with the unsettling blend of guilt and apprehension, too nervous now to challenge the dynamic he’s forcefully set.

Would you be allowed to leave tomorrow?

come home

[helluvapoison]

Lend A Helping Hand

Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Vaggie and Husk need help preening

warnings: possible innacurate bird knowledge, heaven headcanons (also probably innacurate) illusions to sexual behavior but it’s not

[ii]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Lilith used help… when she was around. The thought of asking someone else, much less the act itself, scorched him with guilt

• Oh well. Lucifer did it before, Heaven had rules about it, so he can do it again! And of course he did! It doesn’t mean it’s not an excruciatingly long process he puts off as long as he can tolerate

• You walk in on him attempting to strain his arms in ways they certainly shouldn’t bend. “Need some help?”

• “Pfft, who me? No, no, no I—“ He pauses. It’s like the predicament he’s been caught in settles in slowly, his smile dropping and crimson irises widening to rival a puppy’s cuteness. “Yes.” He admits meekly

• Your fingers barely touch his feathers and Lucifer jolts. Like him, his wings are so sensative

• Don’t take it personally when he tries to back out after that, cheeks bright red from embarrassment. He has six wings and can barely tolerate your touch as is. This could take a while, he already feels bad

• After a teaspoon more of convincing and a gallon of reassurance later, Lucifer sits as still as he can (which isn’t very) while you gently break open the pin feathers

• You could tease if you wanted, make a joke to try and settle his nerves but something tells you his wings aren’t the only thing that’s sensitive

• Lucifer appreciates your assistance and tenderness more than words can describe, nothing seems like a big enough gift to reward your hard work

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Usually it’s Lute that would help him (and vice versa if he feels like it) but she’s nowhere to be found. He can’t casually ask anyone else. Heaven and its inhabitants can be weird about certain shit, preening is no exception— even though everyone has wings here!

• Walking past Adam’s office, you heard a crash and a lot of swearing. “Sir, are you—?”

“Unless you’re gonna help, fuck right off!” He growls from the ground, still reaching at an awkward angle for his wings

• He’s shocked when you sit on your knees beside him and swat his hand away. “If you make this weird, I will leave.” You warn. He doesn’t dare make even a single comment

• Adam shivers when your fingers glide into his feathers. You wave it off the first time but can’t stop a laugh when it happens again

Face first into the carpet, his loud voice is muffled, “Shut! Up!”

• You take pity on him and don’t drag the process longer than necessary. Awarding yourself a final pet of his oddly soft wings, you stand up, “There. All better?”

• Rising to his feet and giving his wings an experimental stretch, he shrugs nonchalantly, “Thanks. I guess.”

• The next day, you receive a basket from Goody-2-Shoes with various snacks. The card reads, ‘Let me know when I can return the favor. Wings don’t have to be included. ~ A’

˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• You know she needs help when she’s more irritable than usual. Snapping at everyone, even Adam, and flinching when her wings move in the slightest

• Approaching the subject with her is harder than anyone. As aforementioned it’s unspokenly taboo but that isn’t what stops her. Lute’s deep rooted issues with intimacy and needing help will make her walls thicker than ever

• “This is inappropriate,” Lute whispers.

In the dead of night she’s finally allowed you to assist but keeps fidgeting and surveying the area like someone will catch you two.

“It is not,” You roll your eyes, “Get your mind out of the gutter and be still! I’ll have you’ll feeling better in no time.”

• She seriously, seriously doubts that. Anything she can’t do herself, amongst certain divine exceptions, no one could do for her

• …But she’s letting you help (and your adept fingers are doing a better job) So either she doesn’t fully believe that, or you miraculously raised her expectations

• Lute decides the latter is acceptable– and a compliment, especially since you prove her wrong. Triple checking her wings, she can’t find a flaw or deny how wonderful they feel now.

• “This is adequate.”

You snort, “You could just say thanks?”

“How can I repay you?”

“I just told you.”

• She narrows her eyes, shocked and suspicious that you wouldn’t want anything. Lute, again, decides that your endeavor deserves an equal act of goodwill. Don’t take it for granted when she says, “No. I owe you one. One.”

˚✧₊⁎ Vaggie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• She genuinely forgets what’s wrong with her when she needs to preen. Even with her wings folded away, the irritable pricking can be felt. She’s itching the back of her neck, hand clawing under the crew of her shirt and dipping between her shoulder blades when you ask when’s the last time she checked for pin feathers

• Vaggie’s always been independent. Up in Heaven she was a bit cocky with the fact she never needed help to reach them. Now, she felt helpless and stupid. Her arms cramped up, her hair kept getting in the way and the itching only progressed

• “Can I–?”

“No.” Her ivory eyes go wide, surprised at the fury of her own voice. Sighing and avoiding your (what she assumed was a) pitiful gaze, she apologizes. “Sorry. I don’t know why I… I used to be able to do this alone.”

Pausing at how defeated Vaggie sounds, you do your best to keep a positive, neutral tone.

“Cut yourself some slack, you haven’t done this in years. And, y’know, you don’t have to do it alone now. Not if you don’t want.”

• Smiling at the offer hanging in the air but not quite accepting, she goes about her managerial duties only to knock on your door afterwards

• Vaggie’s so grateful you can’t see how dark her face becomes as you sort through her wings. They’re not sensitive, they never were– it’s something about your fingers delicately touching her that cracks her resolve. Now she starts to understand why this was seen as an intimate act upstairs

• “Thanks for…” Still blushing, she gestures to her wings before hiding them, “Thanks.”

You try to keep up with her indifference but can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“No problem.”

• If you think she’s not replaying the moment over and over in her head for days afterwards, you’re wrong. Vaggie’s desperately waiting for the moment to be just as useful to you

˚✧₊⁎ Husk ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He’s hardly a fan of Angel touching him the way he does so a solid relationship is required to unlock the level of trust needed for this activity

• The first time it happens when you’re in his life, he won’t ask but also doesn’t reject the offer. Just looks extremely hesitant and uncomfortable

• Carefully, you pinch the rough layer and eye Husk from over his shoulder

• He breathes out a laugh, “Gonna take more than that to hurt me, sugar. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

• His wings might be the least sensitive… but that could also be all that alcohol in his system

• Husk hums as you work. After he gives a big, cat-like stretch and thanks you with a tip of his hat

• The simple gesture means more than you know, he’ll never forget it

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ accidentally on purpose put them from most to least sensitive wings hehehe

big big big BIG thank you to @kottenox for the inspiration and letting me take this idea and run!

[crescenthistory]

hii 🫶🏻🫶🏻!

im not sure if you've written for james potter before, but if you're up for it, could i request d5 with him? i thought like, reader is a slytherin and she fooled around with barty while she was with james. also not sure if you're okay with writing cheating, (feel free to ignore this is you're not!)

hi lovie! thank you for your request<3 i don't vibe with cheating storylines, but this inspired me to write a one-shot of james pining for reader but thinking she's with barty because they're such close friends. i hope that still scratches your itch!

Prompt: D.5 "But do you love me?" changed into "But you are in love with me?"

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, slytherin!reader (sassy/feisty), use of y/n, james pov which includes relentless pining and silly comments, genuine yearning, miscommunication, bsf!barty, slight jealousy/envy, some self-deprecation, background skittles rosekiller and dorlene

The Boy with the Glasses is Blind

James could have kicked himself.

Despite what some professors insinuate, he is usually quite bright – he just so happens to prefer dedicating his intellect to good-willed humour and pranksting rather than gruelling essays that have already been written a thousand times before. He felt he had properly demonstrated his abilities for creativity and strategy with everything he had pulled off over the years, both the pranks he took credit for and the ones they were never able to pin on him.

Yet, here he was.

Sitting in the Transfiguration class shared by most Gryffindors and Slytherins in their year, where Professor McGonnagal in some horrific – in James' previous sentiments – attempt to bridge some gaps and mend some fences, seated a Slytherin and a Gryffindor together at every table. Sitting beside you, the one Slytherin he had never seemed to fully dislike nor target with his more insidious of pranks, but a Slytherin nonetheless, and attached at the hip with one Barty Crouch Junior.

Yes, here he was, sitting beside you and staring at you with what most look like cartoonish heart eyes.

It was not something he necessarily expected to happen, at least not to this extent. You had always held his interest, a fascinating person from who you were to how you spoke and where you placed yourself in society, but it was easily brushed off in the flurry of everything else that surrounded the young boy. In here, he couldn't escape you as easily, and once he realised just what he had been depriving himself of in his avoidance of you, he couldn't escape you even when you weren't around. To him, you were everywhere.

James Fleamont Potter was falling more head over heels in love with a Slytherin with every passing minute. Sirius would have kicked him blue and yellow had he dared open his mouth and voice what was running through his mind when he admired you. Though, James supposed, some of those thoughts were perhaps best never uttered out loud to anyone.

He really couldn't help himself, he thought, it was all your fault for being so sodding angelically flawless. From the first lesson when you playfully threatened him to "behave, Potter, and not soil my education with your unruliness" with that glimmer in your eyes that felt like it must have been reserved for him from a previous life, he has had to pick his jaw up from the floor whenever your eyes meet. The way you carried yourself with a lightheartedness and crackling self-assurance, the way your hair cascaded around you as you turned to him, the way your occasionally crude words towards him were softened by your exuberant tone, as if you took as much pleasure from your back-and-forth exchanges as he did, but with none of the guffawing – a stronger man would have faltered, and James had no qualms about admitting that for you, he was rather weak.

And then there was the way you grinned with your whole body whenever you spoke to your friends and your–

And therein lies the issue.

No gem can sparkle that brightly and not be picked up and admired. To anyone with eyes, let alone ears, it was painfully clear that one Barty Crouch Junior had already snatched up his Treasure, as he called you. James was too late.

The nickname felt tacky in James' mouth as he silently felt around it, trying to figure out what it would feel like to have you as he does. It felt too cheesy, not elegant enough for someone like you, not perfect enough, though James supposes nothing quite could be. Nor was he any better himself, angels and loves had already slipped from his tongue, only to be laughed away as a quip and not a confession – and he didn't even have the right to, not the way Junior did.

You were seated beside James, he could imagine himself feeling your body heat seeping through your clothes and into his if he inched even a centimetre or two closer to you. He could hear your laughter in his ears, he captured the smile in your eyes with his own as often as he could, but even here, within his direct vicinity, he saw the effect Barty had on you. How the two of you seemed to be able to communicate with limited words, mostly through glances and silly facial expressions from where he sat a few rows ahead, fully twisted in his chair to get a good look at you.

James couldn't blame him. It was how he wanted to turn around and stare at you whenever you were near him as well. That maniacal grin on Junior's lips was something James wanted to resent, but also wondered if he would be wearing himself, if he was allowed to brandish it on you.

Unlike Junior, though, he couldn't. James is not a jealous man, he felt he owed his father not to be, but there were few words to describe the sensation building in his throat other than envy. And, perhaps most painfully, a yearning so significant it ached its way through his bones until he was left pliable and broken.

"You with me, Potter?"

James' smile smacked right back onto his lips, albeit slightly more forced than normal as he forced his eyes away – from what he hoped seemed like Junior's general direction and not him specifically – to lock onto yours. There was a quizzical expression on your face and mirth playing over your lips, your soft, beautiful lips.

"Yeah," James made out hoarsely, clearing his throat. "Early mornin' s'all."

The mirth stretched out into a wide, teasing grin on your face, and although James was certain it was at his expense, it melted his own smile into a more genuine one. "Uh-huh. What's made you so tired? You're usually caffeine incarnated first thing in the morning."

"Are you saying you're missing my usual self, love?" Easy, easy, keep it easy.

"I'm saying you're suspicious," you replied with a gleam in your eyes. "Although, you always are. Perhaps it would be suspicious if you weren't behaving suspiciously."

James laughed a bit too loudly at that, warmth spreading in his stomach. "Don't go philosophical on me, L/N."

"I won't, if you don't go boring on me. Transfiguration's enough of a chore as it is."

Pride bloomed out of the spot envy inhabited in James' throat. Somehow he felt just as guilty for both of them, and was just as unable to suppress it as it flowed into his bloodstream.

"Well, when I know you're missin' me so, I can't very well let my best girl down, can I?"

"What a presumptuous young man," you say, words becoming a whisper as McGonnagal walks in to begin her lecture. Despite your smug smile as you said so, James couldn't help but feel slightly rattled at you pointing out the truth to him.

He righted himself in his seat and attempted to dedicate his attention to the Head of Gryffindor, which, unfortunately, he had never been good at even before his entire mind, body and soul seemed to be possessed by the stunner sitting beside him in class. His eyes kept darting over to you, smiling at your facial expressions, even more so when you occasionally caught his gaze with a smile of your own. A strand of hair fell out of your hairstyle as you cocked your head to look at him. James couldn't decide whether he wanted it to stay messy or if he wanted to be the one to tuck it back in for you. His hands remained drumming on the desk.

He attempted to focus up on the lecture, but poor Minnie's voice simply became droning to him when his nose was filled with the smell of you, making him slightly lightheaded. And Merlin, the way you were biting your lip while you took notes – it was an actual miracle he hadn’t melted into a puddle on the classroom floor by now.

Then, his attention was abruptly captured by a small piece of parchment whirring right past his face to force itself into your hand on the desk. You were shaking, smiling over the lip you were still biting as you opened it.

James – in a totally cool non-creepy fashion, of course – tried to get a good luck at the note, but couldn't without giving it away. What he definitely could tell, though, was how Junior was snickering at you over his shoulder like a hyena. Not the borderline scary snicker James had been victim of before, but a fond one, like you were sharing a secret together just the two of you.

Unable to watch more of your reaction, James looked back onto the desk, willing himself away.

You were never one to allow him reprieve, giving him a discreet poke with your wand. When he looked up, your head was in your hand and you were leaning your head sideways to look at him. “Daydreaming again, Potter?” you whispered.

His cheeks burned. “Not a chance,” he responded a bit too quickly, causing you to smile in delight as you leaned closer to him. His heart gave a particularly hard thud at that.

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been staring at my notes for a few minutes, and last I checked, you don’t even take notes. So it's clearly no ruse to copy me.”

“I take notes!" James tried to retort, but when you levelled him with a stare he just smiled indulgently at you instead. "Occasionally."

"Yeah, you're a total swot, babe," you laughed quietly, shooting McGonnagal a quick glance to make sure you're still being discreet.

He knows you're messing with him, he knows it's just colloquialism, but he would have paid embarrassing amounts for you to call him that again.

"Very well might be, you're quite contagious, angel." The slight snort that escaped you at that probably made his day.

“Uh-huh,” you said softly, for the second time that lesson. “Whatever you say, Gryffindor.”

By the grace of Godric, McGonagall dismissed class before James combusted like he thought he would. He exhaled in relief, but it was short-lived as his nerves shot up as you began to pack your stuff, knowing he won't see you again until dinner. Not that he had memorised your schedule, or anything.

He opened his mouth, hoping to think of something clever and smooth to keep your attention for even a second longer, when your usual company approached your shared desk. He heard Junior's laugh before he saw him, eyes still trained on you, and when he turned Barty, Dorcas and Evan had formed some circle around you, chattering away with a casualness he rarely witnessed up close.

“Tomorrow’s going to be incredible,” Dorcas exclaimed almost-giddily, pulling her scarf up around her neck. “I can't wait to let off some steam finally."

“Oh, I'm sure you will, Cas,” you replied teasingly, pointing a finger at her teasingly. "Asked a certain blonde to join you yet?"

"How about you mind your business, Missy?" She shot back trying to shove your face away, but you dodged, using James' arm as a shield. He felt like a mannequin the way he stood beside you, almost dumbly, frozen by the exchange.

Evan just snickered. “Good luck prying Barty away from the game section, he's still pissy about last time."

"You mean when he gambled away all–" Dorcas was shut up with a quick silencio from Barty, which she quickly fought through and stuck her tongue out at him for.

"Hearsay and goss, I tell you!" Barty declared, shoving Evan aside to come stand beside you, arm circling around your waist. "I almost didn't go this year, I'm only joining because Treasure here practically threatened me to."

"Yeah, how dare you even consider leaving me to the wolves," you retorted to him at the same time as Dorcas murmurs something about "yeah, didn't wanna go because you lost so bad".

"Nah, we can't have that," Barty agreed with you while shooting Dorcas a glare, and then he – to James' utter pain and heartbreak – pressed a kiss to the top of your head while squeezing your hip.

Nevermind that it was a quick kiss, nevermind that you laughed at him. James just saw lips against skin.

Now that Junior was basically cuddling you standing up (James wanted no corrections calling this description an exaggeration), James had gravitated further away from you. He may have lost his mind with this whole lovesickness, but he respected you, your choices and your space. With the way you were throwing your head back laughing with your friends about some plans James didn't even know about, he knew he was not wanted nor needed here.

Pulling his bag closer towards his body, he gave a quick nod to no one in particular and turned around, headed towards the door.

"James, wait up!"

Your voice cut through his mind's ramblings, as it always does, and your use of his first name brought flowers to his vision once more. He turned around, hoping to look mostly casual but he's sure his face was an open book. His eyes zeroed in on you walking towards him, leaving your group of friends and Junior behind, but he heard a telltale laughter and he hoped it wasn't at how stupidly in love he looked with someone he could never have.

James blinked at you in confusion as you stopped before him, but you just wore the simplest smile on your face.

“Want to take a walk with me?” you asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"What?" he asked dumbly.

There was mirth in your gaze when you repeated your question. "We both have a free period now, I usually spend it in our common room. But I'm asking if you want to take a walk with me instead?"

James had to physically restrain himself from replying "I know" when you disclosed your habit, while also wondering how and why you came to know his schedule.

He managed to sputter out a response. “Yeah, yes, of course.” He couldn’t quite stop the grin from spreading across his face, and he felt a bit like an overeager puppy, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you looked rather pleased, which only made his heart race faster.

"Enthusiasm gets you everywhere, Potter," you responded calmly, falling into step with him as you led him out of the classroom, leading him down the less-frequented hallways. The road less travelled by.

The two of you strolled down the corridor, side by side, with the chilly autumn breeze filtering through an open window. James wanted to say something witty, something that would make you laugh, but he was mostly in his head, confused about everything that transpired the past few minutes.

"What's that about the fair?" He decided that was safe territory, though he feared having you recount all your plans with Junior there.

"Oh, you have no idea," you started excitedly. James pretended it didn’t cut a bit that he had no idea. "It's this annual fair that Pandora – you know, Rosier – discovered back in fourth. It's got the weirdest, coolest booths and games you'll ever see, with performances from unique professionals. It usually changes every year, last time it was a fire manipulator and a necromancer."

Upon James' quirked brow at you finding fire and necromancy the coolest, you continued. "Come on, you Marauders would have loved it. There's prank ideas and props to last you for months. And there's great food as well."

"Okay, okay," James laughed as he maintained eye contact with you. "I believe you, sounds fun. I hope you guys enjoy it."

If James wasn't as bright as he was, he might have mistook the flash of emotion across your face as a small bout of uncertainty or insecurity.

"Actually, that's something I wanted to ask you about," you started, trailing off as you stopped by one of the larger windows in the hallway, leaning against the windowsill. He followed your example, attention wholly on you. "We have this tradition, my friends and I, that we use the fair as an opportunity to challenge ourselves in some way, do something that... I guess something that scares us."

James just nodded, keeping his attention on you as his heart beats in his chest. Your smile turned a bit rueful.

"That's actually what I was messing with Cas about earlier," you continued. "She's finally asking your friend Marlene out on a date, to go with her to the fair."

That's what you wanted to talk about? James admired you almost more for how dedicated you were to your friends.

"I can tell you without a doubt that Marls would say yes," he reassured you with a smile. "Those two have been a work in progress for ages."

"For so long, it's been physically painful to witness," you laughed. That sound is anything but painful to witness.

James hummed in response, laughter rumbling through his chest as he continued to take you in, scanning your face.

"What are you doing that scares you?" he asked before he could stop himself.

You took a deep breath, chin up in that almost defiant way as you held his gaze. "I'm actually following in Dorcas' footsteps... or I guess perhaps beating her to it, seeing as she hasn't yet."

James blinked at you, clueless as to what you're leading up to.

"I wondered if you wanted to go with me to the fair?"

He felt as if he had been slapped in the face and like he was coming up for air after a long snog. He didn't really know what he felt, just that it was a lot, too much, even for him.

"I'd love to," he blurted out with a breath, words scrambling together. Then, his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to understand your sentence. "I mean– with me, are you sure? Aren't you going with, erm, with Junior?"

You gave him a puzzled look, cocking your head at him as if he had said something entirely irrelevant. "What do you mean?"

James looked sheepish and couldn’t quite meet your gaze over the sound of his own heart breaking. "I mean, it would be really nice to go with you to the fair, anywhere really, but wouldn't Junior mind?"

"Barty–" You cut yourself off, still looking confused. "Barty's the one who's been encouraging me to ask you out, actually. What are you on about?"

"Why?" was all James could breathe out, world unravelling in a way that made his stomach twist with painful hope.

"Um, because I like you? And unless I have suddenly lost all my interpretation skills, I am quite certain you've been fond of me for quite some time too, Potter."

"I am, but– wait– you are? What?" James guffawed. His intense confusion irritated his skin apparently because he had a sudden urge to scratch the back of his neck, his upper arms and pretty much any other piece of flesh. Maybe the embarrassment could be peeled off that way.

Despite it all, you laughed heartily and, what James was beginning to realise, bemusedly maybe even adoringly at his failure to speak. It seemed like you had pieced together everything he couldn't.

"Yeah, I like you, you sod. Think I just flirt with everyone?"

An "I hope not" lies on the tip of his tongue, but instead he shook his head in admonishment.

"Snake's got your tongue, babe?" you asked him, taking a taunting step closer.

"Looks like it," James mumbled, eyes zeroed in on your face as heat rose to his own. Growing bolder in your declaration, he continued, "I suppose I'm just confused. I always thought you were with Junior? That you two were... in love."

The last words brought a grimace to his lips, like it pained him to say. As if on instinct, your hand shot forward to wipe beneath his bottom lip to coax the frown off his face. His lips parted in shock and suspense at your touch and when you seemed to realise what you had done, you pulled your hand back quickly. You had the decency to look slightly flustered after that, allowing him some semblance of a more even playing field.

"No, James," you whispered with a smile as you shook your head. "Barty is my best friend and I love him with my whole heart. But I never have, and never will be in love with him. Him and Evan have been an item for, like, ages."

Finally, a brilliant smile – one you would later describe to him "shone like the sun" to which he attacked you with kisses because "that's so sodding cute of you to say, you sappy romantic" – took over his face.

Without thinking, he stepped closer to you, hand coming up to brush carefully against your cheek as you looked wide-eyed at his positivity and adoration now radiating off of him. "But you're in love with me?" he whispered with rapture, up to speed at last.

It took you a moment before you chuckled lightly, sheepishly looking down at your feet before once more meeting his piercing gaze.

"How about we start with that date, and see where it goes from there, huh pretty boy?"

So, yes, James most certainly could have and probably should have kicked himself – but right now, he found that he had other business he would much rather attend to.

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 5

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 3.9K

Warnings: only mentions of sex/sexual insinuations this time

Part 1 | Part 4 | Masterlist | Part 6

Lando had completely forgotten about the night before when he woke up, surprised to feel the warmth of something pressed against him. His eyes fluttered open, slowly adjusting to the bright morning light shining through the curtains. It took a moment to register the weight resting on his chest, but when he glanced down and was met with a familiar head of hair nestled against his shoulder, everything came back to him.

Y/N was still curled up beside him, her arm draped over his torso, while her soft, steady breath repeatedly brushed his neck. His heart skipped a beat at the sight, barely daring to move. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed as she lay in his arms. He had never expected this as one of the outcomes of his vacation – to have his longtime crush cuddled up to him while she slept.

He checked the time on his phone with his free hand, realising that breakfast would be served for only one more hour. He lay still, wondering what to do. He didn’t want to break her peaceful resting state, but he should wake her up, right? She’d be upset if she’d miss breakfast, and he couldn’t go down to get her something without waking her up anyway.

He ran a hand through her hair a few times, scratching her scalp in the hope it’d wake her up. She stirred a bit in response, so Lando continued – they had some time, he reasoned. Besides, he wanted to make the most of the moment, this probably wouldn’t happen again anytime soon. He wouldn’t mind waking up like this every morning; Y/N right next to him when he awakens, and cuddling before getting up for the day. 

After a few more minutes of playing with her hair, Y/N seemed to have woken up. She sighed before snuggling closer to Lando, burying her face in his torso as she pulled the duvet tighter. Lando smiled at her reaction, and kept scratching her head while she remained blissfully unaware of what – or rather, who – she was cuddling up to. 

She remained like that for a while, completely unaware of the situation she had gotten herself into. Eventually, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her groggy brain not fully awake yet. She blinked a few times but didn’t move, enjoying how warm and comfortable she felt. The realisation came slowly; she was resting against something firm, and—what was that in her hair?

Her breath hitched, and she froze in place. Lando could feel her body tense against him, and he knew the moment was over. She slowly shifted her head to look at him, eyes darting up to see Lando staring down at her with a small smile. She was horrified to find out that not only had she asked him to keep her warm last night, she had cuddled up to him all night, and snuggled even closer while he was awake.

“Morning,” Lando said softly, his voice low, running his hand through her hair one last time.

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she shot up from his chest as if it burned her, her face flushing a deep shade of red. “Oh my God,” she muttered under her breath, quickly untangling herself from the duvet and scrambling to sit up. “I’m sorry, I—I didn’t realise. I was—”

Lando chuckled at her frazzled state, Y/N’s wild eyes matching her hair (entirely his fault).

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow.

Y/N’s face burned red as she combed through her hair, trying to make herself more presentable. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” She mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Lando shrugged, a gentle smile on his face. “You seemed comfortable. I was too, I didn’t mind,” he said in a soft tone.

He stared at her in her disgruntled state. God, she was adorable. He loved it when she was like this; all shy and nervous. He didn’t get to see it often – although this was already the second time in a few days – but when he did, he just wanted to scoop her up, protect her, and reassure her. He had lied to Max yesterday, he didn’t just like her. He was quite sure he had fallen in love with her already.

“Well, I mind,” she mumbled. “I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you last night—”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Really. I already told you I don’t mind.”

She sighed. “This never happened,” she declared, trying to regain some control over the situation.

Lando’s grin widened. “Sure,” he agreed, “but if you get cold again tonight, you know where to find me.” 

Y/N was mortified at what she had done, and Lando’s teasing didn’t make it any better. She watched as Lando got out of bed and stepped into the bathroom. She tried to wrap her head around the situation now that she was alone. She couldn’t believe she had actually willingly asked Lando to hold her – it was so humiliating. But then again, she was so comfortable and warm when she woke up, and he smelled good too. No, she needed to banish those thoughts out of her head immediately. 

Her face was still red when Lando got out of the shower, or maybe it turned red again when she saw him shirtless, she wasn’t entirely sure. Anyhow, it was obvious and Lando noticed straight away, a cheeky grin forming on his face at her flustered state and the way she tried (and failed) to hide her staring.

“The shower’s free.”

“Hm? Yes, thank you,” she mumbled, quickly scurrying into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

“You should hurry up though, breakfast will be over soon,” Lando shouted through the bathroom door. 

The two got ready quickly, and headed downstairs to get some food before eleven a.m. Y/N immediately pulled Pietra aside with the excuse of getting drinks when they reached the hotel restaurant.

“I desperately need your opinion later,” she said as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Why? What happened?”

“I can’t tell it all right now, it’s too much for the short moment we have, but let’s say I completely embarrassed myself last night and this morning,”

“You’re making me very curious. I’m sure whatever you did can’t be that bad.”

“Ha!” Y/N exclaimed, “you’ve no idea.”

“Well, Max and I thought we could all go to the beach today because of the change of plans earlier this week. I’m sure you’ll have enough time to tell me all about it then.” Pietra sent her a reassuring smile as they walked back to the table with their tea.

Y/N nodded in agreement, only to accidentally make eye contact with Lando as she glanced over to the table. He was already seated, an eyebrow raised in suspicion as he observed the hushed conversation. She blushed under his watchful eye, as he sent her a cheeky, knowing smile in return – he knew exactly what she and Pietra had been talking about.

Flustered, Y/N sank into her seat beside Lando while the group discussed today’s plans. Meanwhile, Lando remained cool and unbothered, as if nothing unusual had happened that night. He was far too relaxed, smiling teasingly at her whenever they made eye contact and nonchalantly resting his arm on her chair – it only made her more self-conscious about the situation; why was she so rattled when he appeared completely unaffected?

“So, a beach day then?” Max suggested, leaning back in his chair.

“Definitely,” Lando confirmed, his eyes flicking over to Y/N briefly, but she was far too preoccupied with her thoughts. The mention of the beach triggered a fresh wave of panic – beach day meant shirtless Lando. If she couldn't handle a brief glimpse of him this morning, how was she supposed to survive a whole day with him half-naked in front of her? Her stomach churned at the thought, the nerves already creeping in.

They soon finished their breakfast and headed up to their rooms to collect their things for the beach. Y/N double-checked her bag – sunblock, towel, sunglasses, something to distract herself from Lando? Check. – before Lando strolled back into the room. 

“Are you ready?” He asked her, casually watching her from the doorframe. His eyes slowly looked her over, staring at the shape of her body that shone through the thin cover-up she was wearing. She looked over the room to see if she’d missed anything, an endeared smile coming over Lando’s features as he watched her. Her adorable habit of checking everything repeatedly was something new he learned about her this vacation. “Don’t forget your swimsuit, yeah?” He told her teasingly.

Her head shot up at the comment. “You know I’ve already got that on, Lando.”

“Just making sure,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, the mischief in his eyes clearly visible. When she finally scooped up her bag, Lando led them downstairs and to the car, where Pietra and Max were already settled in. Lando’s hand once again found its place on her back, lightly resting there as he gently guided her across the street to the car. It seemed almost like a routine for Lando; whenever Y/N would step a foot off the curb, his hand would rise to her back, as if she couldn’t cross the street on her own. Despite how much it annoyed her, it felt nice—warm and familiar, and she had to resist the urge not to lean into his comforting touch.

Lando didn’t let go of her until they reached the car, where he opened the door with a flourish. “M’Lady,” he said, dipping his head in a playful bow as he gestured for her to get in. Y/N rolled her eyes at his unnecessary antics, but climbed in the car. Lando took her bag from her to put in the trunk, and softly closed the door once she was settled. She was at a loss for words for his behaviour. He had apparently taken up the role of a gentleman again, just like on their date—no, not a date, the day they spent alone, without Max and Pietra.

Lando joined her in the back seat not much later, taking the middle seat, leaving barely any space between the two of them. She cocked a brow as he buckled himself in and leant back in his seat.

“What are you doing?” She asked him.

He looked at her in surprise. “Getting in the car?” He responded confusedly and Y/N rolled her eyes at the obvious answer.

“Why are you sitting so close to me? Need attention, do you?” 

Lando scoffed. “Hardly. Didn’t have to beg for your touch last night, did I?”

Y/N immediately flushed red at the insinuation, making eye contact with Pietra through the mirror. Pietra raised a brow at Lando’s words, intrigued at what he was hinting at but didn’t say anything – she would hear all about it soon enough.

“I’m just sitting here so I can see where we’re going,” Lando explained in response to her silence.

“Right,” Y/N said, embarrassed at herself. Of course, he was only sitting there for the view. Why had she immediately thought there was an ulterior motive? Yet, when Max turned onto a gravel road, she couldn’t help but be suspicious of Lando’s reasoning; at every small bump on the road his knee or arm brushed against hers. The mischievous smile that tugged at his lips at whenever they touched wasn’t just her imagination, was it?

She shook the thought from her head, instead concentrating on keeping her body as steady, and as far away from Lando as possible. It was useless; every time she scooched closer to the door to avoid his touch, Lando just spread his legs a little wider. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he merely seemed amused, as if he was driving her crazy on purpose.

She was so focused on staying away from him that she hadn’t seen the particularly deep pothole coming – the pothole Max had driven over just a little too fast. Y/N was launched off her seat, nearly hitting her head on the roof. In a reflex, she reached out, her hand tightly gripping Lando’s thigh to steady herself. The heat rushed to her cheeks as she quickly tried to pull away, but Lando had already caught her arm, his hand lingering as he steadied her.

“Are you okay?” He asked her sincerely.

Y/N nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that,” she mumbled, mortified, her face still burning as she avoided his gaze.

“Guess I’m not the only one who needs attention, hm?” He teased.

Y/N groaned, yanking her arm out of his grip. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, crossing her arms and looking out the window. She hoped that looking away would calm the fluttering in her chest, but it did nothing – not when she could still feel his presence so close to her. It made it impossible to focus on anything else.

When the car finally came to a stop, Y/N practically bolted out, desperate for some distance and space to think. She walked in front while they searched for a spot to lay down their towels. When she looked back to ask the group’s opinion, she saw Lando had already taken his shirt off. Her face heated up at the sight, and her words dried on her lips. Instead, she stood still, eyes shamelessly focused on Lando’s torso. He was so handsome; toned yet lean, and his strong, muscled arms… 

It didn’t take long for Lando to catch her staring. His lips curved into a knowing smirk, a playful glint in his eyes when they met hers. Her trance shattered under his gaze, and she scrambled to recall what she’d been thinking about. “Uh… is here good?” She stuttered out, her voice not as steady as she would’ve liked.

The others quickly agreed, and set up their things. As Y/N spread out her towel, she couldn’t help but steal glances at Lando walking toward the water. His broad back and toned shoulders glistened under the sun, muscles shifting with every step. God, how was it possible that he looked good from every possible angle?

“Y/N?” Pietra interrupted her thoughts. 

“Hm? What did you say?” Y/N asked, her attention not fully on Pietra yet.

“You wanted to share something with me? You were desperate, I believe you said?” Pietra said with a smirk.

“Oh, yes!” She said, suddenly much more alert. “Did you see what he did? His hand on my back? And then in the car? Why does he keep touching me?” 

Pietra smirked. ”We’re talking about Lando, right?” Y/N nodded. “Girl, I already told you. I think he’s into you.”

“It’s so annoying. Nothing affects him, he’s always so calm and, like… confident. Meanwhile, I’m blushing like a schoolgirl.”

Pietra raised an eyebrow at the admission. “Why do you blush?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N exclaimed, “because,” she paused, thinking about her answer. “I don’t know.”

Pietra smiled knowingly. “I think you do,” she suggested gently. Y/N did, she just didn’t want to admit it, not when she knew better than Pietra; that Lando didn’t like her back, that it was just teasing. “Now, spill the tea. What stupid and embarrassing thing did you do last night and this morning,” Pietra continued.

Y/N groaned. “Oh my God. It was so bad. First, I spilled water all over my pyjamas when I opened a new bottle, and of course, because I’m stupid, I didn’t bring any extra pyjamas. So I had to borrow a shirt of Lando’s to sleep in. But then, because it was so cold in the room – I told you about the broken air-conditioning right?” Pietra nods. “Right, so it was very cold, especially because I didn’t have any pants on, and then, my stupid ass, asked Lando – oh God, it’s so embarrassing.” She hid her face in her hands. “I asked Lando to hold me because I was cold. Or well, I didn’t ask him directly, but that’s what it came down to.”

“Really? You cuddled? Willingly?” Pietra commented.

“Well, yes. But that’s not the worst part, the worst part was this morning. When I woke up we were still cuddled up, and I cuddled even closer. I was basically lying on top of him and I didn’t even realise it. It was so embarrassing, P. I just wanted to dig a hole all the way to China.”

Pietra laughed at her dramatics. 

“But he’s been so casual about it, like it’s no big deal at all, and I’m just so humiliated.”

“Well, what did he say when you woke up?”

“Good morning.”

“And after that?”

Y/N sighed. “Not to worry about it, and that he didn’t mind.”

“Alright. So he probably doesn’t care, so there’s no need to be embarrassed. If anything, he probably loved it – he likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Y/N protested, wildly shaking her head.

“Come on, Y/N,” Pietra said, rolling her eyes. “He’s always flirting with you—” 

“That’s teasing, not flirting,” Y/N interjected.

“—and the way he looks at you, didn’t you see it at breakfast? He’s always making love eyes at you. And he’s constantly touching you… All the signs are there, he’s not even hiding it.”

Y/N frowned. Could Pietra be right? No. Lando was just teasing her all the time, mocking her – that wasn’t flirting. And the eyes thing, he was just provoking her, challenging her. But sometimes, like two days ago, it did seem like he liked her a little bit. Maybe teasing was just his way of flirting? 

“Think about it,” Pietra said, tapping Y/N’s leg before laying back down to enjoy the sun. 

Y/N nodded absentmindedly, already going over all the questions running through her mind. What Pietra said didn’t make sense though; Lando didn’t care about what happened last night and if he liked her, he would be nervous too, right? He was just being cocky, happy that he had managed to humiliate her once more. There was no way that Lando liked her. Y/N, however, was slowly forming a crush on him and it was no good – not when Lando didn’t like her back. She would have to see him for the rest of her life; because of his friendship with her brother, he’d always be around. She couldn’t handle an unrequited crush when she had to see him so often. Never mind if he did like her back (which he didn’t); it would ruin Lando’s friendship with Max and she couldn’t and wouldn’t be the cause of that. Her mind was set; she needed to get him out of her head and stop this before it became worse.

She grabbed her book from her bag, hoping it would clear her mind. The weather was nice and the sun shone brightly on the paper, providing the perfect lighting for reading. It took her mind off her crazy thoughts, until, after a while, Y/N suddenly noticed a shadow on her book, and then a few droplets of water dripping onto the pages. She pulled it away quickly, already knowing the cause without having to look.

“Reading your romance novel?” Lando asked teasingly, smiling brightly as he looked down at her.

“It’s not a romance novel—and move over, you’re blocking my light and dripping onto my book,” she said, eyes focused on her book. She couldn’t face him, she needed to reel in her crush and looking at him while he was shirtless wouldn’t help.

Lando, however, was not happy with the lack of eye contact. “Hey,” he said, hoping to catch Y/N’s attention.

“What?” She mumbled, continuing to read the book, hoping he would disappear soon.

Lando pulled it out of her hands seconds later. “What are you doing?” She asked, groaning in frustration. “I don’t know what page I’m on.”

“You should look at people when they’re talking to you. They might think you’re rude if you don’t,” he said, the teasing tone still evident. However, his smile had slipped. Why did she seem annoyed with him?

Y/N looked up at Lando, finally giving him the eye contact he wanted. She tried to focus on his face, but she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked; shirtless and sun-kissed while his wet curls sat messily on his head. This was exactly what she wanted to avoid.

“You already know I’m rude,” she retorted sharply, trying to hide the effect Lando’s presence had on her. Maybe he would leave her alone if she was crass, that would be better than him being so close.

He sighed in frustration at her curt response. “So, what? We’re back to square one now? I thought we were finally getting along.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond to that. She looked away, hoping he would just disappear.

“You asked me to hold you, remember? I don’t think I made fun of you for it, so why are you being like this?” Lando said softly, ensuring Max and Pietra wouldn’t hear – although the irritation was evident in his voice.

He thought that after last night, he had finally broken through the walls she’d put up; that maybe she liked him. You wouldn’t ask just anyone to hold you, right? Or fall asleep in just anyone’s arms? So then why was she pulling away now? It wasn’t fair to blame him when he had only done what she asked for. It had taken him so long to get her to warm up to him, for her to open up, and now that he had finally gotten close she was shutting him out again. It was maddening. He needed to understand where he stood; whether she liked him or not, because, frankly, her behaviour was becoming very tiresome.

Nevertheless, Y/N remained quiet at the confrontation. She knew he was right, he hadn’t done anything wrong and maybe she was being unreasonable, but she wasn’t sure how to handle a situation like this. She didn’t want to embarrass herself any further, and admitting that she was being ‘like this’ because she liked him definitely seemed like the worst possible option. Lando sighed at her silence and forcefully pushed the book back into her hands before walking back to the water.

Y/N bit her lip as she stared after him. She had just upset Lando. She didn’t think it was possible, he always took everything she gave him gracefully; he laughed every mean and rude comment away like it was nothing. She hadn’t expected her silence to be the thing to set him off, she hadn’t meant to upset him and she felt selfish for hurting him to protect herself. Her heart stung with guilt at the sad look on his face, one she’d hoped never to see regardless of the frenemy thing they had going. She couldn’t believe she was the cause of it.

– – – – –

Part 6

@dripostsstuff @willowsnook @f1fantasys @sarx164 @watermelonslut @diorsummer @zzfhcp @spidey.lovin @harrysdimple05 @pattydel @mayusaatma @leonie404 @mywritersmind @weekendlusting @01rrdbull @alex-wotton @liv1209 @forensicheart @carey86 @avagracekeating @sltwins @graceln4 @chachaxbear @lucktales @benstormy @cheyennep3107 @suicidepanda07 @hellowgoodbye @itsartesworld @fleurskles @monstermash234 @haileysaintmleux @ainocilla @bicchaan @lnlightning81 @f1updates4you @rana-dprian @slytherinbithc @fangirl125reader @saturnbloom77 @itssueed @rebecca-9 @radiator101 @f1norris04 @teamnovalak @noescapricho-essentimiento @itsjustfranzi @obxstiles @liv1209 @sagestack

[saidrabbles]

vulnerable

pairing: g-dragon x reader warnings: none word count: 1.1k

.

— this is for anyone that feels like a burden to others if they dare open up about their feelings —

.

jiyong slides in his chair, letting out an exasperated sigh. music production has been so stressful, trying to meet the high expectations put on his name. g-dragon. sometimes, he wishes he can run away from this name, from his genius producer reputation. but he loves music, his fans and...he wouldn't have met you.

he met his girlfriend of three months now through mutual friends, and he couldn't be more thankful. you're everything to him, which is why your reply made him sulk.

jy: hi baby, are you free tonight? ;) y/n: hii my beloved, im sorryy :( work has piled up and i see no escape. i'll be busy for the next few days :(

several days is way too long of a time without seeing you. "i don't blame her, i'm struggling the same with my work. but i would love to see her for an hour or two." he was ranting to his bestfriend, taeyang, on the phone with a visible sulk in his voice. "i think you should tell her that jiyong, maybe she was too stressed to think of meeting for a few hours."

he was staring at the demo he produced a few hours ago, his mind thinking of ways to make the song sound better. he forgot taeyang, still on the other side of the call, but a feminine voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "did she say she's busy with work for a few days?" "yeah, why?" he cleared his voice, "uhm guys, what are you on about?"

hyorin, taeyang's wife, sounded worried. "i think you should go check up on her, jiyong-ssi." he sat straight in his seat "why? what does it mean when she says she's busy?" hyorin sighed on the other end, "i can't talk in detail about it because it's not my place but, (y/n) has struggled with being vulnerable because of a previous relationship." he stood up fully now, rushing to save his work. "i coincidentally went to visit her with a meal when she said she was busy, and she was having a breakdown...she thinks she will be a burden if she made people rush to her side everytime she's going through something." his heart felt like it stopped working, like it malfunctioned. why would she...she's not comfortable with me?...

.

.

you heard a knock on your apartment door and you started wiping your tears, the delivery man doesn't need to be seeing dried tears and puffy eyes, you tried to joke. "you can leave it just on the inside-" you were super-glued to your place. it wasn't the delivery man. "ji-jiyong?" your voice came out thick from all the crying you did. "can i please come in?" his voice was almost a whisper, like he is afraid to raise it any higher in case you run the other way.

you silently opened the door wider to allow him in, not knowing what to do with yourself. run, hide, don't show him your weakness. your traumatised mind was screaming at you, but you were still glued in-front of the gentlest man you've ever met. his eyes had an expression you couldn't read; pain? guilt? sadness..?

your body starts forcing you to walk into the living room, but before you turned around he leaped and wrapped his arms around your waist, his head leaning into your shoulder, engulfing you whole. you stayed in your place, you didn't understand what was happening. "(y/n)" he breathed again. "(y/n)" he breathed out, "why are you crying, alone, when i'm here?" you felt your body shaking, so you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your head into the crook of his neck in an attempt to hide from the confession he was asking of you.

you held him tighter, and he returned it by pulling you closer to him. "it's not about you" your voice was more of a whisper than anything. "i know baby" you shifted in his arms, "you know?" he slowly started drawing circles on the small of your back. "hyorin told me a bit about it, but" he placed a kiss on the top of your head as he rested his chin on the top of your head, "who in their right mind would not want to hold you in their arms, like this, and smell your floral shampoo?" he tried to lighten the mood.

"a whiny, clingy person" you started "that's what he told me when i called him, needing reassurance." at which point did your tears started pooling around your eyes again, you don't know, but you notice how jiyong starts swaying the both of you gently right and left, like he's telling you he's listening. he knew you still had more to say. "i'm the type of person that holds it in, i don't complain unless i've suppressed my emotions for too long. at some point in my relationship, he started sighing anytime i tried to express how i'm feeling.." you started crying, but wanted to continue,

"so, i stopped telling anyone how i feel. every time i tried to speak, my mind would start to attack me, scream at me, and it shut me up." you hid your face in his chest as you cried your heart out. you let out all of your pent-up feelings to another human being after all this time. it wasn't just anyone, it was to the person that mattered the most to you. his arms melted away your sadness, stress, frustration. after what felt like hours, your cries were now sniffles, slowly settling into this newly cleansed heart.

you felt jiyong pull away, and pull you with him over to the couch in the living room. he sat you down, held your tear-stained face ever so gently, wiping any escaping tear from your (e/c) eyes. "your vulnerability" he kissed the space between your brows "is what you makes you human" he kissed your left cheek "becoming someone you can lean on," he kissed your right cheek "is a great honour for me." he kisses your nose "i want to know your everything, i want you to cry only in my arms, and to complain when life feels unfair." he grazed his thumb over your lower lip.

he slowly leaned in, placing a feather-like kiss. you smiled as he kissed you again, deepening the kiss, like he's sealing the promise he made to you with his warm, soft lips. you melted, feeling your mind settle into an unheard whisper. he rested his forehead on yours, sighing happily.

"i love you, kwon jiyong." he giggled at the mention of his full name, "i love you too, (y/n) (l/n)." you were both giggling at this point. you settled on his lap, as he held you close to his chest. feeling his heartbeat, you felt yourself come home. "thank you, my dearest." he reassuringly squeezed your upper arm. "always, my most beloved."

a/n: im working on a gdragon x reader slow burn friends to lovers reuqested by anon, but enjoy this scenario written by yours truly :)

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

First Time (18+)

Bayverse!Donatello x reader

A/N: Damn, I think this is my longest one ever. Big time Donnie love!💜

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

Donatello is more than a little nervous about the thought of having sex with you, not trusting his own abilities, but with some reassurance and guidance from you, he rises to the occasion.

Warnings: A more angsty build up that I had planned, unprotected sex, Donnie having his first time with you💜

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

To say that Donatello was an amazing boyfriend, wasn’t enough to do him justice. He was fantastic! The sweetest and most genuine guy you had ever met. He was attentive and treated you well. Sure, he might be a mutant turtle that lived in the sewer, yet he was the best boyfriend you had ever had. Whether that spoke of your former poor taste in guys, or just the general low bar for human men you did not know. But you knew for a fact that Donatello was one of the best things that had ever happened in your life.

Donatello would say the exact same thing about you. You were not just the best thing that had ever happened to him, but a dream come true. Before meeting you, he had never actually believed that he would get to experience something so good. Just as he had accepted his fate as a lonely mutant turtle that would spend his days alone in hiding with his brothers, you came along and changed his life for good.

The friendship the two of you shared was just what you needed. You may not fully understand everything Donnie had going on inside his lab, but you listened nonetheless, finally giving a much needed ear to his thoughts and inventions. He in turn provided you with a safe space to go to, whenever your life became a little too much.

During those years of friendship you and Donnie grew close in ways none of you had experienced before. Not even his brothers could read him as well as you did, and you in turn had never thought that anyone would understand you as well as Donnie did. So therefore it was only expected that stronger feelings would blossom.

When you and Donnie started dating, it felt natural. Just like your first kiss. It just came naturally to the two of you. No grad gestures and no confusion. Both you and Donnie knew what it meant, and you were just happy to be with someone that understood you so well.

But if there was one thing that didn’t come as naturally to you and Donnie, it was sex. Actually, it didn’t come naturally to Donnie. You didn’t blame him. The poor guy had lived most of his life, convincing himself that sex would never be something he would get to experience. So when you and Donnie started dating and kissing, and the first thought of sex came up, Donnie started overthinking. You were a human that had had sexual experiences with other humans before, and he was a mutant turtle who had his hand as the closest thing to a former sexual partner.

It didn’t mean that Donatello didn’t want sex, because oh boy, did he want to! He was just nervous. Really nervous. It was almost nerve racking to believe that he could actually have sex, let alone with someone as beautiful as you. And you understood. You really did. You took the time to sit with him and talk it through, making sure he felt heard and comfortable, especially talking about a subject like that. What did he feel? What did he fear? What was he excited about?

Other than the general confusion and trauma that came from accepting your fate of loneliness, you learned that Donatello feared not the action of sex itself, but how he would act. More specifically, he was nervous and overthinking, because he did not know what to do. Where should he put his hands? What was he supposed to say? And the thought that haunted him the most; if he didn’t do good, would you leave him? All very valid fears for a mutant turtle, who did not even dare to dream of being with a human.

You took Donnie’s hands in yours and told him it was okay. He was allowed to be nervous and overthink, and he was allowed to not know what to do. You told him that you loved him, and you wouldn’t leave him if he didn’t make you feel good the first time, nor the time after that. Humans too would be nervous before their first time, and it was very normal not to be satisfied the first time.

And after that conversation, you and Donnie slowly started preparing for your first time together. With Donnie being a totally different species than you, he started preparing you for what you could expect. He told you where his cloaca was located and how it worked, along with other parts of the turtle anatomy you may or may not have known already. You in turn did the same. You told him where humans liked to be touched and answered his questions about human anatomy. And it calmed Donnie down. It calmed him down enough, to the point he dared to ask if he could touch your breast.

The make out session that came from that, was one unlike any you ever had had with Donatello. With his hands groping your breast, you were at a shock of naturally good your sweet tech boyfriend was at this. You had expected him to be more unsure, but you soon learned that when he had the confidence he could do anything. Making you moan against his lips while he played with your nipples, this guy did not know what talent he possessed.

This unlocked a new area of your relationship, that you and Donatello carefully explored. Make out sessions became more common, with hands exploring and building up the courage, going a little further each time, until one night Donnie told you he wanted to try.

“Are you sure?”, you asked. You were sitting in his room, you in his lap with your arms around his neck, still breathing heavily after the heated kiss the two of you had just shared. One of his hands was in the back of your neck, playing with your hair, while the other rested on your ass, squishing you through your pants.

“I’m sure”, Donnie answered, watching you through hooded eyes. The hand on the back of your neck crept to the side of your face, letting Donnie’s thumb glide across the corner of your mouth. “I really want to try”.

You nodded your head, biting your lip with a smile, before letting Donnie close the space between you once more. Your lips dancing together as your tongues slowly found each other, letting a small moan escape you, as you felt the vibrating churr being in Donnie’s chest. You had heard that sound quite a few times now, and each time you loved it more and more.

Your hands moved from Donnie’s neck, and down to the top of his plastron, enjoying the feeling of his vibrating chest through your fingers. You moved your lips to his chin, making your to his neck, feeling the hand on your ass pull you closer. Donnie’s breathing was heavy, his chest moving as he felt you work your lips around his neck.

Donnie’s hands found your waist, dipping under your shirt to feel the warmth of your smooth skin against his rough palms. You took this as a sign, removing your lips from Donnie’s neck to take off your shirt. This made Donnie move his hands to your breast, palming them through your bra as you reached back to unhook it. The breathy curse that left Donnie’s mouth once your bra was off, went straight to your core, making you clench around empty air. And Donnie could smell it. The scent of your arousal was strong, making him slightly dizzy.

Donnie nuzzled his head against your neck, pressing kisses against your skin like you had done to him, enjoying every sound that left your mouth and the feeling of your hands on his shoulders. His hands moved from your breast to your pants, where he tried to undo them, only to grow frustrated at the small buttons in his big fingers.

“Want me to take them off?”, you asked, gliding a hand up his neck.

“Please”, Donnie answered, bringing your hips close to him once more.

Donatello watched, with his head resting on your shoulder, through the valley between your breasts, as you undid your pants. Once you got them past your waits he helped you, sliding them off of your legs before throwing them somewhere in his room, leaving you in nothing but underwear on his lap.

“Shit”, he moaned, his heart raising once more as yet another wave of your arousal hit his nose, stronger than before. He hooked his thumbs into the straps of your underwear, his eyes finding yours to ask for permission. Breathless you nodded, lifting your hips to make it easy for him to pull your damp underwear down your legs.

The sight of you naked on Donnie’s lap was enough to make him moan. Your cheeks were already getting pink, and your pupils were just as blown out as his. The best way Donatello could describe the sight in front of him was; hot. So fucking hot.

He kneeled your hips, biting his lips before he asked; “Can I… Will you show me… Will you let me finger you?”

Once again, Donnie’s words went straight between your legs. The way he looked at you and the way he spoke. Needy and so ready to try. You loved every second of it.

“Of course you can”, you answered him, before bringing him in for another needy kiss. You took one of his hands in yours, guiding it down between your legs, helping one of his fingers glide through your folds, letting him feel the wetness that had built up. Donnie shivered, letting a whimper against your lips. You couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling from his lips, finding his reaction adorable.

“You feel that?”, you asked him, letting his finger glide through once more. Donnie nodded, letting out a small shuttering yes. “That’s all because of you, Donnie”. Your boyfriend cursed once more, his face showing frustration and absolute bliss.

You moved his thumb to your clit, guiding him on how to circle his finger around your small bundle of nerves.

“Like this?”, Donnie asked, watching your facial expression as he worked his fingers on you.

“Yes”, you breathed out, arching your back enjoying the feeling of his thick thumb on you. “Just like that, Donnie”.

Donatello bite his lip, watching your face closely, while remembering the things you had told him about the human body. How humans liked to be touched. How you liked to be touched. And with that thought in mind he wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you close and still, while his index finger glided through your folds once more, before finding your entrance. He slowly pushed his finger in, sighing in delight at how tight you felt around his finger. You moaned, leaning your head back, happy that Donnie had wrapped his hand around to stabilize you.

“Fuck, Donnie”, you moaned, feeling how his finger went further in.

“Is it good?”, he asked, brows knotting together, biting his lips as he felt the familiar feeling from his cloaca, threatening to let dick drop.

“Yes, Donnie”, you moaned, your legs shaking against his. “Please, move them Donnie. Like this”. You held up your hand, showing your boyfriend how to move his fingers inside you. Donnie nodded, doing just as you showed him, moving his fingers in and out of you while his thumb rolled against your clit. You moaned, dropping your head against Donnie’s shoulder. He moved his fingers faster, feeling you move and shake against him, every moan from your mouth sounding like sweet music in his ears. He continued like this, feeling you tighten around his finger, your climax inching closer and closer until you came around his fingers with a loud moan.

When Donnie removed his fingers from your used cunt, he could not resist the urge to bring them to his mouth, sucking them off in front of you. The look in your eyes and the way you smelled told him everything he needed to know. You enjoyed it. All of it. He brought your lips back to his, your tongues finding each other. You moaned at the slight taste of you in his mouth.

Donnie pulled from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, listening to your heavy breathing, feeling it against his face. “Can I do it?”

“Do what, Donnie?”, you asked, your hands smoothing over his shoulders and biceps.

“Can I fuck you?”

You nodded, too stunned to speak. Once again, you had not expected Donatello to be so straight forward, having thought he would be way more shy.

Donnie took your lips in for another kiss while he slowly laid you down on your back. Once your back was flat against the mattress, he started moving his clothed crotch against you, moaning against your lips as he felt himself getting closer to his drop. You whimpered against his lip, almost begging him to take his pants off. Finally he sat up and undid his pants in full view of you. He pulled his pants off along with his boxers, before climbing back on top of you, feeling your legs close around him the best they could, bringing his cloaca to meet your wet center.

“Can I drop into you?”, Donnie asked, his lips ligering against yours, his hands moving from your hips, up your sides to your shoulder, bringing you closer to him.

“Yes, Donnie”, you moaned, buckling your hips against his, causing him to moan, feeling himself tipping on the edge before finally dropping down in front of your entrance. To his surprise, you were the one to move your hand down between the two of you, taking his cock in your hand moving it to your opening before pushing it in closely.

Donatello moaned, his head falling down beside yours, your cunt hugging him tightly as he sunk further in. You kissed the side of his face, whispering sweet nothing as he sunk in as far as he could. He stayed there for a moment, letting you and himself adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. You were a tight fit for him, but he couldn’t deny it felt good.

“Donnie, please move”, you moaned, moving your hips under him. Donnie wrapped an arm under your shoulder so he could bring you even closer to you, resting his forehead against yours once more as he slowly began to move, moaning and cursing in delight over the feeling.

His thrusts started out slow and soft, until you told him it was okay to go harder and faster, to which Donnie obliged. He cursed, one of his hands grabbing on to the bedding beside your head, enjoying this knew feeling around his cock.

“Fuck”, he breathed into your ear, causing tingles to erupt in your stomach. “It feels good, (Y/N). Fucking good”.

Your hand found his face, stroking his cheek making him look you in the eye. The sigh was enough to make both of you shiver.

“Wanna go faster?”, you asked him. Donnie nodded, his lips slightly agasp. “Go as fast as you want to. Fuck me as fast as you want, Donnie”.

And that was all your boyfriend needed. Every trace of nervousness Donnie had showed you during your first conversation about sex disappeared, leaving behind what you could only describe as a feast for the eyes. Donnie was concentrated, his brows frowning, his pupils wide as his muscles flexed before he let loose against you. You gasped and moaned loud, grabbing onto Donnie’s shoulders as he thrusted faster and harder into you. He was rougher than you had thought he would be, but you found it to be a pleasant surprise.

But then Donnie did something you never saw coming for his first time. He took one of your legs, hooking it over his arm before thrust into you even deeper than before. This new angle caused you to arch your back in ecstasy, as he continuously hit the sweet spot inside of you. It didn’t take long like this, before you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach as you clung closer around Donnie.

“Donnie!”, you moaned out, your pitch higher than he ever had heard it before, making him growl in delight. “Donnie, I’m close!”

Donnie did not answer you. Instead he dipped his head down to your neck, where he started nipping at your skin, his hips working against you like a piston. He wanted you to cum around him, washing away every fear he ever had about not making you feel good. And you knew. You knew your boyfriend, and you knew what he was thinking. And as he started groaning and biting your earlobe, you couldn’t hold back anymore, almost screaming his name as you came for him once more.

Donnie moved both hands down to your hips, holding you still as he started chasing his own high, helping you ride out your own in the meantime. As he moaned louder and louder as he got close, his thrust became more and more erratic. Finally he came, pushing himself all the way into you as he shot out his white ropes, letting out a moan better than porn star you ever heard.

Once down from his high, Donnie pulled out of you, before slumping down next to you, sweaty and out of breath, his dick still out in the open.

He looked at you, his eyes tired yet full of love, making you feel warm in so many ways. “Was it good?”

“Are you crazy?”, you asked, smiling brighter than any stare Donnie had seen. “It was amazing, Donnie!”

Donnie chuckled, wrapping an arm around you to pull you close against his plastron, giving you a kiss before resting his forehead against yours once more, a smirk spreading on his pretty lips. “Does that mean you’re up for another around after a quick nap?”

[heartssturniolo]

could you do virgin!bsf chris and reader.

eg. they were playing truth or dare and it starts to get freaky and chris couldn’t answer the questions and ended up admitting he was a virgin so reader decides to help him learn how to have sex ect.

also can i be 🧸 anon?

virgin ~ c. sturniolo

warnings ‼️: nsfw content ahead, 🔞, consume with your own risk, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, loss of virginity

a/n: working through requests i promise 😫😫, not proofread, first time writing smut so may not be that good 😢

a/n: anon added

dividers by @/anitalenia 💞💞

wc: 794

“Truth?” you respond to Chris, “Let me think.”

At this point, you were high on dopamine, the rush blurring your consciousness, not fully in control of your actions.

“Are you a sub or a dom?” you ask Chris, your best friend. This was definitely crossing some unexplored boundaries in your friendship— but you were too into the game. Plus, there was no harm in answering such a vague question, right? It wasn't too invasive.

As the words leave your mouth, a hint of a blush quickly dusts over Chris’ cheeks, panning down onto his neck.

“Come onnnn… it's not that bad!” you argue, “Unless, you accept losing?”

“No, it's not that, it's just…” Chris starts.

“Are you a switch?” you interrupt.

“No, it's that…” Chris tries again.

“Don't enjoy either?” you interrupt again.

Having no choice, Chris decides to just blurt his answer out, “I'm a virgin.”

That instantly shuts you up, your eyes widening at him, just staring at him.

“...What?” you manage to say.

Chris groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands, the previously dust of red has now become a roaring shade of red, coating his face and ears.

“Listen, I know how it sounds…” he tries to defend himself.

“But how? You're always flirting with basically everyone and all the girls have a crush on you,” you ask, completely bewildered at his confession, thinking it must be some sort of joke.

“Fuck… this is embarrasing,” Chris says, looking up from his hand covered face, “It just never happened. It's not a bad thing, alright?”

“Right, it's not a bad thing, but I just didn't expect that from you of all people.”

“It doesn't mean anything, I'm still experienced in other ways,” Chris justifies.

“Like what?” you continue, prying to know more. This wasn't something you two would ever talk about, but since you have the opportunity now, why not take it?

“Kissing, fingering, all that stuff. Nothing much I haven't done.”

“But nothing is as good as the real thing,” you argue.

“Yeah?”

And that's how you found yourself laid on your back, your sweatpants pulled to your ankles as Chris towered above you, pulling out his semi-hard length with one hand and rubbing your clit through your panties with the other.

He goes to pull your panties down, and you help him by lifting your hips up, Chris sliding them to your ankles.

You kick off the clothing gathered at your ankles, now somewhere on the floor, scattered with clothing, as Chris pulls off his shirt.

“We'll just start off with missionary?” you ask Chris.

He nods along, resuming working his fingers on your clit, while lazily stroking his cock with his other hand.

Spitting on his fingers, his fingers linger on your clit for a few moments before inserting one of his fingers inside your already dripping pussy, clenching around him.

At this point, his cock is rock hard, resting upright against his stomach.

“I think I'm wet enough,” you say, almost a whisper.

Chris nods and pauses fingering you, “Can I?”

“Yeah, we'll go slow,” you reply, despite it being his first time, he actually seemed to have an idea of what he was supposed to do.

Pulling his fingers out briefly, he quickly replaces them with the head of his length.

You both pause for a moment, adjusting to the moment before you lock eyes with each other, knowing you both want more.

Chris pushes in more, filling you up, eliciting a simultaneous gasp from both of you— he was stretching you out and you were clenching around his cock.

He can't keep his eyes off at the way he enters you, the way you accept him.

By the time he's completely buried in you, all previous awkwardness has faded, replaced with lust and desire for each other.

Slowly, Chris begins thrusting in and out of you, each thrust stronger than the previous, each thrust making you wetter, each thrust making him want more.

Your moans fill the room, at that point, your friendship boundaries had been crushed and swept away, too entranced in the moment.

Chris’ head falls back, groans spilling from his parted lips, still thrusting.

Your legs wrap around his waist, wanting more as you begin to feel the familiar feeling of the knot in your abdomen.

“Chris, I'm gonna…” you manage to breathe out through your moans, captivated in ecstasy.

“I know… me too,” Chris whispers, breathily his thrusts become more sloppy.

Chris aids you towards release by focusing his fingers on your clit, enhancing your pleasure.

Eventually, you see white and pleasure rushed through your veins, all around your body.

Similarly, Chris pulls out and finishes on your lower abdomen, laying beside you.

“I think I prefer being a dom.”

taglist 💞:

@joces-wrld

@madisonsfavgirl

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [15]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 14 | Fic Masterlist | Part 16

"I still don't understand why you had to creep around instead of just approaching her and introducing yourself properly," Jongho remarked, rolling his eyes as Wooyoung clicked his tongue in frustration, "Oh, come on! Can you blame me? She's so beautiful, I got nervous, alright?! I've never had to talk to her before, and I just... I panicked!"

The assistant squinted at his friend, "You do realise if the general catches wind of any of that, you'll be out of a job. Don't tell me you have a crush on our mistress..."

"And you don't?!" The private investigator squeaked, eyes widening in disbelief as Jongho shook his head, unamused, "That's inappropriate. Don't you ever suggest such a thing again."

Wooyoung kept his mouth shut, realising that his friend would be the last person interested in hearing him gush about how pretty he found you. He was fully aware that you were his employer's wife and therefore off-limits. Still, it wouldn't hurt to indulge in the innocent fantasy of being a secret admirer.

Besides, he still valued his life, and it wasn't as if he was actually in love with you or anything. Deep down, humans are all visual animals, and he found his tiny crush on you completely justifiable.

Turning serious, Jongho inquired, "So, what did the mistress need help with? She's been secluded in the study ever since Prince Yeosang's departure and hadn't spoken to any of us until you showed up. Something must have happened."

With a smug nod, Wooyoung responded, "Ah, it seems I already know more than you. How does that feel, senior assistant Choi?" His grin disappeared when the younger man did not react as expected, only staring him down intimidatingly, as if daring him to continue with his playful shenanigans, "Ugh, fine, sheesh. The fourth prince invited her to his birthday banquet happening next week. She's really anxious since it's her first royal event and without General Park. She wants guidance on dealing with the royals."

Head shooting up at the revelation, the assistant knitted his brows together in concern, "The fourth prince... invited her to his birthday banquet? Did he say why?"

The private investigator shrugged, a hint of nonchalance in his tone, "He mentioned that since General Park is away, he hoped Lady Park could represent him this year."

A troubled expression clouded Jongho's features as he processed the information, his mind racing with possible implications. The idea of His Highness extending such an invitation seemed out of the ordinary, sparking unease within him.

Noticing the younger man's troubled demeanour, Wooyoung nudged him on the shoulder, concern evident in his voice, "Why do you look so bothered, man? What's on your mind?"

Jongho's stomach churned as he mulled over his thoughts, his voice tinged with apprehension as he responded, "I wouldn't have been surprised if it had been any of the other princes. But Prince Yeosang? He hasn't hosted a single birthday banquet in years. And besides, his connection with the general is minimal at best. So... what do you think he wants with our mistress?"

That revelation made the private investigator sit up straight, suddenly grasping the complexity of the situation. If what his friend said held true, it meant the fourth prince was plotting something. A surge of protectiveness for you washed over him, wanting to ensure your safety and not let his role model down.

Turning to the assistant, he asked, "Damn, I don't like the sound of that. So what's our move? Should we warn her?"

Jongho shook his head adamantly, "Absolutely not. She'd panic, and that's the last thing we need. I'll fetch the dressmaker; he's one of the general's closest friends, and along with Physician Jung's help, we'll try to figure this out."

"Oh, one more thing!" Wooyoung interjected, grabbing the younger man's attention, "Lady Park did mention that it would be great if she could somehow get in touch with Royal Secretary Choi. It seems she believes he's the only one who can offer helpful advice for navigating the royal event."

Pondering this information quietly, the assistant nodded, "Fortunately, I've corresponded with him on behalf of the general several times. I should be able to reach him easily."

Jongho furrowed his brows, noticing the unsettled expression on the investigator's face, "What's bothering you now?"

Wooyoung sighed, his expression clouded with uncertainty, "The lady also expressed her doubts about whether the royal secretary would even consider helping her. She's unsure if someone as busy as him would take the time to assist her."

Shaking his head, the assistant offered reassurance, "Don't worry. Royal Secretary Choi is genuinely one of the kindest people you'll ever meet. He shares a friendship with the general and will certainly lend a hand to our mistress if she needs it."

That would soon be clear to them all when San arrived to grace everyone in the general's estate with his presence in just a few days, leaving Hongjoong, Yunho, and Wooyoung in awe as they watched the handsome man with an exceptionally fit physique—perhaps a little too fit to be a mere secretary—walk past the three of them, who were sitting in the living hall, with a respectful nod and courteous smile.

Jongho exchanged knowing glances with them as he ushered the royal secretary into the estate and towards the study, where you awaited his guidance with your studies.

"Am I the only one who thinks that guy seems more suited for the battlefield than the royal office?" Wooyoung quipped, prompting a reluctant nod from Hongjoong. For some inexplicable reason, he found the private investigator mildly annoying, almost like a younger brother, "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right about that. He does give off that vibe."

Yunho, known for his wisdom and maturity, offered a shrug in response, "We shouldn't judge someone solely by their appearance. Perhaps the royal secretary excels in matters of intelligence rather than physical strength."

Rolling his eyes, the dressmaker fired back, "Obviously, we're just joking. Lighten up a little, Yunho, or you'll never find a wife with that boring ass attitude."

The physician pursed his lips at the jab, while Wooyoung watched with amusement as the banter between the two friends unfolded, "Says you? You're older and still single. Perhaps the problem lies closer to home."

Hongjoong scoffed in disbelief and placed his hands on his hips, "Excuse you, I'll have you know there are plenty of women vying for my attention every day. It's not my fault I have standards."

"I could say the same." Yunho retorted.

Before the banter could escalate, Jongho intervened with a heavy sigh, "I leave for a minute, and you're already arguing. How is it that all of you are older than me?"

"I agree, assistant Choi. Their behaviour was rather immature," The investigator remarked, feigning innocence when the doctor raised an eyebrow, "You're the one who instigated the whole thing."

Just as Wooyoung opened his mouth to defend himself, the assistant rubbed his temple wearily, "Oh my god, enough. Let's not forget why we're here today—to figure out the intentions of Prince Yeosang regarding our mistress."

"Is that the purpose of this gathering?" Eunsook queried as she appeared by the entrance of the living hall.

The four nodded in confirmation, and the head maid sighed before joining them, "If that's the case, I believe I may be of help. I was with the mistress in the palace on the day the master discovered he had to depart for war. Something happened with the prince while we awaited the general's return from his emergency meeting."

As she recounted the incident at the cherry blossom garden, a dawning realisation settled over all of them. Suddenly, it all clicked into place: why Yeosang, known for despising his own birthday due to its reminders of his painful existence, was now planning a celebration and extending an invitation to Lady Park, of all people. It was clear to the group that the prince had set his sights on the general's wife, and this elaborate scheme was likely his attempt to lure you away from Seonghwa.

"I understand we're all concerned about what His Highness might attempt to win over our mistress, but I believe we should have a little faith in her. Her devotion to General Park is undeniable. I don't think she would easily forsake him after all he's done for her." The physician suggested, hoping to ease the tension in the room.

As the others visibly relaxed with the reminder, the dressmaker appeared to be the only one still troubled, "Yeah, about that..." The dread in the room heightened at Hongjoong's uneasy expression.

"What is it?" Jongho inquired cautiously.

With a frustrated expression, the eldest man among them ran a hand through his hair before recounting the recent encounter with Jinjoo, your stepsister, and the doubts you were starting to entertain about your husband, "I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

The elderly woman's stomach sank at the revelation, but she shook her head to reassure the dressmaker, "No, Hongjoong, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known her stepsister would be there. No matter how much we deny it, the truth has a way of surfacing. We can't hide it from her forever."

The others nodded in agreement, though filled with worry at the implications. They knew Eunsook was right. Eventually, you would likely discover the truth. They just hadn't expected it to happen so soon, especially with Seonghwa away at war. The thought of you being possibly swayed by the fourth prince's charms sent shivers down all their spines.

Well shit, that's not good at all.

"San, you're an absolute lifesaver. Thank you so much." You expressed with gratitude after the lengthy crash course he had just given you on dealing with royal figures when attending such events, offering a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Returning the smile, the royal secretary noticed the fatigue and stress evident in your expression. He sensed there was more to your distress than just the fourth prince's sudden invitation to his birthday banquet. Perhaps his close relationship with his elder sister had sharpened his perception of women's emotions.

Observing your troubled expression, San gently inquired, "Are you feeling quite alright, Lady Park? If you're worried about the general, I can assure you that he is being partnered with only the best military strategist in all of Joseon. They have yet to lose a single battle thus far, I'm sure this time would be no different."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you at his words. On one hand, you appreciated his attempt to ease your worries about your husband's safety. On the other hand, a nagging curiosity gnawed at your mind, Jinjoo's words still lingering, urging you to delve deeper into the mysteries surrounding your family's punishments.

San's position as the royal secretary and his close friendship with the general made him an ideal source of information. Surely, he would know the intricate details of the case and could provide you with the answers you sought. However, the thought of uncovering the full truth filled you with trepidation.

What if reality's more than you could bear?

You wrestled with your inner turmoil, unsure of whether to broach the subject with Royal Secretary Choi. Part of you yearned for closure, to finally understand the events that took place without your knowledge. Yet, another part hesitated, fearing the potential consequences of unearthing Seonghwa's carefully buried secrets.

As you glanced at San, who was patiently awaiting your response, you grappled with your decision. Would you dare to confront the shadows of your fears, or would you continue to dwell in uncertainty, afraid of what truths lay beneath?

To hell with it.

Taking a deep breath, you responded, "Thank you for your reassurance regarding my husband's capabilities. However, that's not precisely what's weighing on my mind..."

He arched a curious eyebrow, intrigued by what other concerns could possibly be bothering you besides Seonghwa's safety, "I'm all ears, my lady." He offered, inviting you to share your thoughts.

Lowering your head, you recounted your recent encounter with your stepsister and the unsettling doubts it had stirred within you. Then, with a hesitant tone, you inquired, "May I seek clarification from you regarding my husband's role in the Jang family's punishments?"

San maintained a composed smile, betraying no hint of shock at your revelation. With a calm demeanour, he laced his fingers together before him, "I empathise with your concerns, Lady Park, and I want you to know that they are valid. While the details of the case are confidential, I can offer some clarity to ease your worries."

You held your breath as he continued, "The truth is, His Majesty was responsible for determining your family's physical punishments, but the general took charge of overseeing the entire process."

So, it's true.

Your heart sank at the confirmation.

"Understandably, you may find his involvement frightening. However, you need to know that this has always been the nature of his job. If you think him cruel, remember that every drop of blood shed was in service of this nation's security. He's doing what only a few have the guts to do. And in this case, it's out of love for you that he was determined to ensure that those who harmed you and your mother faced justice. My lady, can you truly fault him for that?"

His words struck you like a boulder, and you realised he might be onto something.

The royal secretary grinned as he observed your expression, knowing his words were making an impact, "Besides, you've been here long enough to witness how good he can be to those he cares about. That includes you, all the staff in this estate, as well as his loyal friends currently seated in the living hall. Surely, there must be a good reason why these people choose to remain by his side, wouldn't you agree?"

Noting your silence and contemplative expression, San understood that you needed time to digest everything. While he hoped he had made a valid point, he knew that your conflicting emotions wouldn't dissipate so easily. Nevertheless, he had done his best to encourage you to keep an open mind and speak the truth.

Ultimately, the next steps were up to you.

"As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I have another appointment scheduled in an hour, so I should probably head to my next destination." He announced, rising from his seat opposite you.

His words snapped you out of your reverie as you got up after him, "Ah, yes, of course. I can't thank you enough for everything, San."

As you escorted him towards the exit, he smiled warmly at you, "You're most welcome, Lady Park. Don't fret too much about the royal event next week. I'm sure you'll do splendidly, especially considering you've already managed to impress the fourth prince. He's not an easy royal to handle, so that's quite an achievement."

Prince Yeosang is... not easy to handle?

Before you could ask him to elaborate, the royal secretary was already boarding his carriage. With a defeated sigh, you waved at him as the vehicle began to pull away.

Heading back inside, your mind reeled from his words. His Highness had never seemed difficult around you, so you struggled to comprehend what San meant. Besides his slightly playful demeanour, you didn't find the prince hard to handle in any way.

Before you knew it, your head began to throb with the endless thoughts swirling around. Eunsook rushed over in concern when she saw you swaying, your hands pressed against your temples.

"Mistress! Are you feeling alright? Oh dear, you look exhausted," She exclaimed, her worry evident in her voice, "That's enough studying for today. Go and rest. I'll bring you dinner when it's ready."

Throughout the rest of the week, Jongho and the others couldn't bring themselves to warn you about the potential advances of the fourth prince. They noticed how visibly stressed you were, dedicating all your time to refining your ladylike etiquette and practising formal speech with the head maid. Your determination for perfection in your debut at a royal event was clear as day.

After receiving all the help you needed, you were finally ready for the banquet. Standing before the mirror, you inspected yourself, admiring the delicate red flower the dressmaker had once again helped you paint on your forehead, perfectly complementing your new hanbok, "Are you pleased with the look, Lady Park?"

You nodded enthusiastically, "Absolutely, Hongjoong. You never disappoint, and you know that."

With newfound confidence, you departed from the general's estate, accompanied by Jongho and Eunsook. Mentally reviewing the list of potential royals in attendance, you appreciated Wooyoung's efforts in the past week as he assisted you with retrieving specific books from the public library and studying the royal family tree.

The private investigator lingered near the estate's entrance after seeing you off, his jaw slightly agape. He had always found you pretty, but seeing you all dressed up and with the flower on your forehead, he was struck by your ethereal beauty. Just as he was about to entertain the thought that Seonghwa must have saved an entire country to deserve someone like you, he realised that might actually be true.

"Excuse me, Jung Wooyoung. That's not your lady to be ogling like that. Behave yourself, or I'll have to whoop your ass on behalf of the general." Hongjoong warned, rolling his eyes as the younger man pouted before sulking back inside the estate.

As your carriage approached the familiar high palace walls, Jongho and Eunsook exchanged determined glances. They had agreed to stick by your side at all times, wanting to protect you from whatever schemes Prince Yeosang might have planned for the event.

"We've arrived, mistress." The assistant announced as the carriage came to a stop.

With the head maid's assistance, you stepped down from the carriage with slightly less ease than when your husband carried you, feeling a pang in your heart as you were reminded of him. Despite your complicated feelings, you couldn't deny the longing for his presence. You hoped he was safe and well while you attended the birthday celebration of another.

Approaching the grand entrance of the hall hosting the fourth prince's birthday banquet, you noticed that the palace staff responsible for announcing guests had recognised you immediately, sparing Jongho the need to introduce you. As you reached the entrance, the staff announced in a loud voice, "Miss Jang, eldest daughter of the former Minister of Military Affairs, has arrived."

Your shock was palpable as the announcement rang out, your eyes widening and your stomach sinking at the unexpected introduction. The last thing you wanted was to be associated with your father, especially not at such a prestigious event. You had been specifically told by the prince that you were here to represent your husband. So why would they announce you like that, using your past title, when you now held a new and official one as the general's wife? The discrepancy left you feeling uneasy and out of place as you stepped into the grand hall.

What's the meaning of this, Your Highness?

« Preview of Part 16 »

"General Park! Letters for General Park!"

The messenger's urgent cry echoed through the camp, drawing attention to the main tent where Seonghwa typically conducted his affairs between battles. Bursting into the tent, the messenger gasped for breath, his eyes darting around, "Sir, may I enter?"

"Come in," A deep voice replied, but it wasn't the general's. Officer Song, the military strategist, sat alone inside, his gaze fixed on the newcomer, "General Park is uhh... preoccupied elsewhere at the moment. What brings you here, soldier?"

Handing over the stack of letters he carried, the messenger answered, "The general has received a few missives, one from his assistant and another from His Highness, the fourth prince."

Mingi's brow furrowed in confusion, "The fourth prince?"

The messenger nodded vigorously, "Yes, His Highness mentioned it's regarding an urgent matter and should be delivered to the general as soon as possible."

Officer Song nodded in acknowledgement, "I see. Leave it to me, soldier. I'll ensure it reaches him as soon as he's available."

As soon as the messenger departed, Mingi's curiosity overwhelmed him, and he unfolded the letter from Prince Yeosang. His breath hitched as he absorbed the concise yet weighty message. The prince started off by conveying gratitude for Seonghwa's service to the nation and extended well wishes, reassuring him not to worry about returning.

However, the content took a surprising turn with his final paragraph.

'Out of respect for you, I am writing to inform you that I will be proposing to Miss Jang. I believe she deserves the freedom to choose her own husband. Perhaps what she needs is someone who can remain by her side and not cause her any worry. If you truly care about her happiness, you would understand.'

Once again setting the stage for the main event HAHA sorry for the (sorta) filler chapter, but I promise there will definitely be drama in the next part.😈

Also, thank you so much for 1.3k followers! As always, thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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[faeble-drabbles]

Hello! If you don't mind, I'd like to ask for a few headcannons of Kite, Wing and the main four (aged up Killua and Gon) with a s/o who seems like they're very weak and mild, but are strong and intimidating af during battle. Fem!reader if you can please.

Thank you!! (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

Thank you for being the first requester!! <3 I will never not be in the mood to write some HxH <3 Even though this wont be spicy, all characters in this are/aged up to be 18+ (Also probably gonna leave out Kurapika and Leorio this time around, probably gonna keep my limit at four characters per post)

•°• KITE •°•

+ This man was HIGHLY against bringing you along on one of his little adventures. Weak or not, the places he went were highly dangerous and he would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

+ It took a lot of convincing but he eventually agreed. But you best believe he is gonna be glued to your side and watching your surroundings like a hawk.

+ Just in a brief moment of being distracted by talking with you, Kite was attacked by a poacher with powerful nen abilities. Kite was about to attack the man, but something flashed past him before he could react.

+ "How DARE you hurt Kite, you asshole!!" With that battle cry, you used your abilities to take down the poacher with ease. Which left a confused and awe-struck Kite, standing in silence. When did you become so powerful??

+ Kite snapped out of his daze when you returned back to him and started worrying over his injury. Kite just gave a smile and shook his head. Looks like he had absolutely nothing to worry about with you by his side. You had each others backs.

•°• WING •°•

+ You had been training for a while with Wing and during that process, eventually started to date as well. Unfortunately for you, this made Wing a bit more protective over you.

+ It also was starting to seem like Wing was slowing down your training a bit. When approached about it he would just give the same "I just want to make sure you are fully prepared and ready" talk.

+ You hated to go behind his back, but you had to prove him wrong. You signed yourself up against a powerful opponent at Heavens Arena, making sure the fight was as soon as possible so that Wing could not interject. + When Wing heard your fight announced, he was both furious and terrified, especially when he saw the other opponent. Did you really have to pick out the strongest looking fighter just to spite him? He wanted nothing more than to jump on that stage and stop it before it even could begin.

+ Right as Wing was considering taking action, the fight had already begun. As the fighter barreled towards you, Wing found himself clench his eyes shut tight. The sound of surprised cheers made him chance another look, just to find you beating the shit out of the other fighter. It was a complete shock to him watching his sweet s/o give such a brutal beatdown. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride.

+ When Wing found you after the fight, he made sure to give you a earful of how your actions were very irresponsible and dangerous. But once he was done, his face soften to a smile. "...And I'm sorry for doubting your abilities. You are very powerful and I can not wait to see you grow even stronger"

•°• GON •°•

+ Gon was never really attracted to people for their strength, but their hearts is what caught his attention. So when he met you, he never viewed you as strong or weak, just a good person with a big heart. And that's what lead the two of you to dating.

+ Though finding out you had nen abilities alone excited him. Gon wanted to know everything about your techniques. What did it do? How does it work?? How did you train to perfect it??? He's just in awe.

+ Even knowing you possessed nen powers, he never really associated it with you being a fighter. He didn't exactly view you as weak but he also didn't really expect you to single handedly beat up a group of powerful hunters.

+ The group was causing problems with a local villager and right as Gon was about to give them a piece of his mind, you got there first. He wasn't sure what was more surprising, the profanities spilling from your mouth or the fact that you took on all these skilled hunters with such ease.

+ You best believe when the fight is over, he's going to be drowning you in praise and even more questions. "Wow!! You keep getting more amazing with each day!! You're so cool Y/N!!" If you have not already gotten your hunter license, he's definitely going to beg you to give it a shot.

•°• KILLUA •°•

+ Similar to Gon, Killua isn't attracted to people for power alone. Yes power can impress him, but he prefers to be around people who love and appreciate him for who he is, flaws and all.

+ Which you do. You know all about Killua and all the awful things he's gone through, as well as all the good times and friends he has met. Meanwhile, there is still something he had yet to discover about you.

+ Killua had needed to get something from his home, but did not want you to get involved in any of his families shenanigans (God forbid if his mother found out the girl he was dating was in reach). He instructed you to wait a bit of a distance away from the gate and he'd be back as fast as he could.

+ After a while though you started to get impatient and wondered if he ran into any trouble with his family again. Anxiety started getting the better of you, leading you to make a trek up to the gates.

+ Right as Killua was about to exit, he nearly jumped when the gates had opened before he had the chance to touch them. And to make it more surprising, it was the 6th door out of the 7. All of his family had been home, so who..?

+ You ran through the gate and gave him a hug. "Good! I was starting to get worried about you!" Killua couldn't even respond for a moment, he was still in shock that you had managed to open all those training gates without much effort. At the same time, he couldn't help but smile in knowing that his s/o he loved so much was secretly so powerful.

+ "So you want to tell me what sort of training you've been through to be so strong? I might have to get some tips from you, heh"

[bumblesimagines]

Lessons in 'Chemistry'

Request: Yes or No

Summary: After getting stranded on the side of the road, (Y/N) is helped by Sarah Cameron and given a ride home. Weeks later, she asks if he can return the favor in an unexpected way.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical OBX warnings, mentions of drugs and dealing, mentioned/implied classism, sexual content

Idk what possessed me but goodnight

~~~

The moment he crossed the threshold from the hallway into the bedroom, he immediately felt out of place, like a worn-out pair of dirty old boots being set amongst a shiny new pair of Mary Jane's.

He scoped out the room, noting it was much bigger than his bedroom back on the Cut, and felt a hint of uneasiness settle in the pit of his stomach. Everything looked as if it'd come right out of a magazine or a sitcom based around high school, including its inhabitant who slotted into the space like the last piece of a puzzle. 

Sarah leaned against her vanity, the table trembling under her weight and almost knocking over some upright lipstick tubes. She hooked her fingers into the back of one of her sneakers and pushed downward until her heel popped out, then casually tossed the shoe aside to be forgotten until she needed it again. She did similarly with the other sneaker, and then her socks, which she threw into the laundry basket a few feet away. She seemed comfortable yet nervous, her fingers fidgeting with her golden bracelet as she turned around to face him.

They weren't friends, hell, they were hardly acquaintances. Though he assumed that was precisely why she'd even approached him in the first place asking him to repay a 'favor'. It hadn't been entirely his fault that his dirt bike had chosen to suddenly stop working and she'd just happened to be driving down the same road, but that act of kindness was typically repaid with a similar favor.

He still wondered if it was all some sort of prank, a test set up by Rafe to test his loyalty or something. But Sarah clashed with her brother enough for him to take Rafe out of the equation. 

"So," She exhaled, scooping her hair over one shoulder and toying with the ends of it. "What.. what should we do first?"

(Y/N) needed a drink, or two, or maybe three to process what Sarah was asking of him fully. She'd gone up to him the day prior just as he'd been preparing to drive home from another kook party with his pockets full of cash.

For a moment, when she asked if he was willing to return the favor, he thought she meant hitching a ride back to Tannyhill or scaring the shit out of some jock who wouldn't leave her alone but then she'd given him an almost sheepish smile. 

"I... I want you to teach me some things." She'd said, tugging her jacket further over her body to escape the nipping chill of the night. He'd grimaced, expecting her to mean shooting a gun or doing some sort of drug that'd send her spiraling down the same path as Rafe. Instead, she nearly made him and his bike tip over into the grass. "Like... in the bedroom? How to, you know... please? Ugh, that sounds so weird."

"Why?" He'd asked slowly, the word drawled out 'cause it sounded batshit for her to be asking him and not her boyfriend.

"I don't want to embarrass myself with Top. I always hear the guys talking shit or- or complaining." Her cheeks had gone red by then, a combination of the chill and what she was asking of him. He almost felt guilty but then Topper's irritating little face flashed in his mind and he considered telling her to straight up dump the guy.

"Yeah, sure."

He'd been mostly itching to get out of the cold, his tired brain telling him it was just some dumb dare and she'd be texting him some apologies by the time he got home. His phone had vibrated with a message telling him what time he could come over without Rafe around to ask questions that night.

There he stood, half-certain the regret would begin settling in for her in a few minutes and he'd be compensated with some snacks from their walk-in pantry. She tilted her head, though, and he quickly realized that maybe the Camerons were all really fucking weird. 

"You do realize this is cheating.. right?" (Y/N) asked with an arch of his brow, maneuvering his leg around the door to push it shut behind him. Maybe they'd sit on the bed and he'd offer her a free therapy session on why kook guys weren't worth stressing over, because no guys who unironically wore polo shirts and khakis together were worth stressing over. She gave a flimsy shrug.

"Yeah," She answered casually, because she was Sarah Cameron and she was known for that sort of thing, before she took a few cautious steps toward him. She looked at him like middle-aged women with nothing better to do looked at banned breeds in shelters, with intrigue and a desire to reach out. "But it's whatever. I'll have other boyfriends."

He was beginning to believe she was using him to get out of the relationship, as a reason why they weren't working out. The most that'd happen to her would be a few nasty looks from Topper, and the least that would happen to him would be a fight. A kook with a bruised ego was a dangerous kook, and he was certain Rafe believed there was a bro code between them. No macking on siblings was always a given, no matter the relationship. 

"What do you want to do?" (Y/N) asked, because he wasn't fully sure what she'd meant by 'teaching' her 'things'.

The fancy private school she and the other kooks attended definitely had to have classes where they were taught anatomy, and at the very least had some basic Sex Ed classes. All Kildare County High had was a teen pregnancy epidemic that was treated like cooties because they were all at a higher risk of OD'ing on something and not making it into their twenties. Not that DARE ever swayed anyone.

Sarah smiled, almost bashful, and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I want to kiss you." She answered, stepping closer to him, still slow as if she were dealing with a shelter mutt.

Something coiled around his gut, hot and electric and uncomfortable. He was no prude, he'd lost his virginity as a sophomore two years prior, but to be wanted aloud felt wrong.

His life had been spent learning how to hide, how to blend into the background and be forgotten within the hour. You only had two choices in the Cut: become a ghost floating on by or become a feral dog with bloodied teeth. He'd chosen the former, his brother the latter. To be noticed raised an alarm in his head and sent his senses into overdrive.

"Mm." He made a noise in the back of his throat, his hands furling in the pockets of his worn jacket. The room suddenly felt hot despite the AC blasting cold air into the back of his head and his fingers twitched for something to fiddle with while thought about his next words.

He was starting to wonder if maybe he was a new passion project of hers, though he'd never seen Sarah Cameron care for that sort of thing.

"Why not one of your friends?" He was stalling. He knew he could easily back out, mutter some excuse and offer to do her another favor, but some part of him wanted to stick around. Maybe for the chance at a good time, maybe from dumb curiosity. He just despised the idea of something more forming from it.

(Y/N) could hardly count as a playboy. He'd been with three girls in his long nineteen years of life and he only ever had to look one in the eyes when he attended school. The other two were tourons, the daughters of eager tourists who visited during summer break to bask on their beaches and get a taste of their day-to-day lives. He preferred them over girls he'd grown up with, over girls who lingered and could potentially continue prodding at him.

Sarah's lip jutted out in disgust. "Like Kelce or Benson? They're basically my brothers, it'd be too weird." (Y/N) did not comment on the fact either of those two would jump at the opportunity to do anything with her. He simply nodded as if he understood, as if he had girl friends who were like sisters to him. It'd always been just him and his brother.. and Rafe, he supposed, but Rafe was more like a stray who refused to leave. "Plus, they're friends with Top. I don't trust them not to snitch."

"But you trust me?" (Y/N)'s brows furrowed. 

"Yeah," Sarah laughed lightly. "You're not like those other guys Rafe hangs out with." Sleazeballs, she meant.

The one singular time they'd ever had a proper conversation aside from polite small talk had been when she'd given him that ride in her shiny BMW. The car still had that brand-new smell, fresh and light and almost cool but mixed with subtle hints of vanilla and coconut that he often associated with Sarah.

She (unsurprisingly) proved to be a better driver than her brother who believed going the speed limit was optional, and she spent most of the ride chatting with him as if she were catching up with an old friend who'd left for college. It was odd, somewhat endearing but odd.

"Right." He exhaled and rolled his shoulders, his jacket sliding off his shoulders and exposing his upper arms to the cold air. He tugged each arm free from the sleeves and rolled the jacket up before jumping it on a chair pressed up against the wall beside the shelf built into the wall, the faded brown fabric clashing with the floral pattern. 

If she was comparing him to Barry and his clients, the bar for trust was in hell. He could count on one hand the number of guys from that group he trusted, and it only included Barry 'cause the same blood ran through their veins.

Most of them were older men; ones with wives who despised them, divorcees with enough bitterness to create generational feuds, deadbeats who rarely remembered their kids ages or birthdays, or hopeless folks who'd long given up on their dreams of the future. (Y/N) pitied them sometimes, before he'd be reminded violence and greed came just as easy as breathing to the hopeless.

Sarah's room was incredibly nice, he noted, though an odd shape from being on the side of the manor. It looked like a hexagon cut in half with its slanted walls, leaving the lower half of it to be decorated with pictures and frames and the upper half to loom over the bed. Sarah must've really liked blue because nearly everything was blue or white. Her lamp, the floral loveseats, the large circular rug, the decorative pillows on her bed that had S and C threaded into them, the curtain. He felt tempted to ask if half the things in her bathroom were blue too.

When he tore his eyes away from a framed picture of different butterflies and their names, he found Sarah standing much closer than before. His first instinct was to flinch, to create distance between them, but his feet kept him rooted in place and rendered him to blink at her in surprise. Sarah's eyes crinkled, amused she'd caught him off guard, and then her hands moved to rest over his cheeks. Her hands were soft and smooth, free from callouses and chaffing because unlike most of the kids in the Cut, her father had ensured she'd never have to work a day in her life if she so desired.

"Can I kiss you?" Sarah asked, voice soft and almost breathless, dripping with anticipation. She cradled his face in a way that was unnatural to him, too gently, too sweet; it made him uncomfortable, it made him want to press pause and savor the moment. Affection was a fleeting thing on the Cut, and most often involved a trade of sorts. 

Another threshold, another line he contemplated crossing. Technically, he'd done nothing to warrant the wrath of the kooks yet but kissing their princess would be breaking an unspoken rule between pogues and kooks. The 'war' between them was dumb, he very well acknowledged that, but he still followed the laws of their divided land to avoid conflict. Most kooks knew to leave him alone, his status as the local dealer's baby brother giving him an advantage over others, but kooks weren't particularly known for their intelligence. 

"Yeah, sure," He exhaled, his go-to words with Sarah at this point, and she laughed again like windchimes in a summer breeze. 

Just as expected, Sarah's lips were soft and plush, suddenly making him self-conscious about how his own lips felt. He applied chapstick a fair amount of times, would that change anything? He wasn't sure but he tried pushing the insecurity away to close his eyes and focus on not making a fool of himself in front of the nicest kook in all of Figure Eight. 

His hands clumsy grasped at her waist, exposed by the crop top she wore riding up when she circled her arms around his shoulders. His hands retreated briefly when they touched her skin, worried for a moment that it was going a step too far as if their mouths weren't on each other. He placed them over her waist again more confidently, massaged the skin warm from constant time in the sun, and tried not to focus too heavily on how well he was kissing.

Sarah tilted her head and her button nose rubbed against his, her lips parting slightly and teeth gently digging into his lip. He tentatively opened his mouth, just a bit, and swallowed the muffled giggle the bottle-blonde released. He'd kissed girls before (just the three but enough to keep his brother's teasing to a minimum) but they'd always been rushed kisses, frantic and fast-paced to get to the part they actually wanted to do. Sarah took it slow, exploring his mouth and then pressing against him to encourage him to do the same. 

She began moving, her chest bumping into his and forcing him to blindly move along with her until his legs bumped against her bed. They parted when he plopped down on the bed, the comforter rustling and the bed creaking softly with the added weight. He took a moment to catch his breath, to allow his mind to catch up and he peeled his hands off her waist. His lips felt different, likely smeared with the barely noticeable pink lipstick she wore, and his heart had kicked up its pace. 

"What exactly-" He swallowed and pressed his palms into the smooth white comforter. "What exactly do you want help with?" 

Her arms hugged his shoulders again and the moment their lips met again, she took advantage of their position and proximity by grinding her hips. His hands flew to her waist and a quiet grunt escaped him, his body naturally beginning to fully react to the situation. Her lips curved up into a victorious grin and he began to wonder just how inexperienced she actually was. 

It definitely wasn't kissing. If anything, Sarah was an expert at that already with her years of dating boy after boy after boy.

He assumed the 'lessons' would be about heavy-petting or featherlight touches underneath clothes but instead of answering, Sarah smiled at him and dug her knees into the bed as she straddled his thighs. The lingering smell of her scented body lotion invaded his senses while she got comfortable on his lap, light and sweet-smelling enough to nearly make him hungry. 

Sarah suddenly pulled away and brushed her fingertips over her bottom lip to wipe away the slick that'd gathered there. Her legs moved, sliding effortlessly along the comforter until her toes met the floorboards and then her knees followed with a soft thump. (Y/N) stared at her long and hard before the switch flicked and realization dawned on him like a wave of cold water. 

"Is this okay?" She asked softly, her palms already moving along his thighs and hazelnut eyes peering at him through her dark lashes. She almost reminded him of a siren trying to entice him to make a costly decision, and his body seemed fairly keen on doing just that. Sarah palmed the growing bulge and smiled when he shuddered, her eyes darting back and forth between his crotch and his face.

"Are you sure about this?" He managed to ask without his voice miraculously cracking. His fingers dug into the comforter and crinkled the material but he desperately needed something to grasp onto while his brain struggled to comprehend what he'd gotten himself into. Heat invaded his face, covering his neck and ears before creeping down his spine and torso.

Sarah pressed the pad of her index finger into the button of his jeans and then nodded, her fingers popping the button and slowly dragging down the zipper until it reached its end. He felt clammy and nervous, like a fourteen-year-old seeing an old Playboy magazine for the first time or watching a scene from a film get steamy. It was the type of jittering nerves you got when you were doing something you shouldn't and the risk factor was beginning to set in. It made him a little light-headed. 

Sarah's fingers dipping beneath the waistline of his jeans and the band of his briefs snapped him out of his momentary daze, his gaze darting downward in a flicker of confusion before he lifted himself enough for her to begin shimmying the articles of clothing down his legs. He lowered himself down closer to the edge of the bed, inhaling heavily through his nose when the cold air hit his thighs and reminded him he was now exposed in front of Sarah fucking Cameron.

He almost flinched when fingers curled around him and his eyes darted down, his cheeks flushing with heat at the sight of her long fingers slowly dragging over his length. He twitched in her hand, slowly hardening further, and he wished for nothing more than to shove his face into a pillow to avoid being seen by her curious eyes. 

All the times he'd been touched by a girl had been quick, swift pumps before he sunk into her through a drunken haze. He wished he had a drink in hand, something that'd fog his brain and halt his instinct to overthink every single little thing. It was difficult to try not to when he had the Princess of Figure Eight with his dick in her hand. And she had the gall to look intrigued, if not delighted. 

"Should I take my top off?" Sarah asked breathily, and (Y/N) almost hadn't heard her through the light ringing in his ears when she gave him an experimental squeeze. 

His eyes immediately jumped down to the shirt she wore, one he actually thought looked nice. It was a light rose-pink shirt with a darker pink floral pattern that he thought looked rather fancy for a casual everyday party until he stopped to wonder if she'd dressed up a little nicer than usual just for him.

He had no sisters to run questions by, to watch and take notes of what girls purposefully did or didn't do, just an older brother who'd rob anyone if given the chance and whistled at pretty girls on the street occasionally.

He shrugged. "If you want."

Sarah smiled, a little cheekily, and released him to lift her top up and over her head, tossing it aside without a care. He swallowed thickly and her smile turned into a grin, one that blatantly spelled trouble for him. She leaned forward onto her knees, ones that'd likely be red and numb by the time she had her fill of fun, and arched her back slightly.

He tried focusing on her layered necklace, the gold one she frequently wore that had an S charm, but his eyes flickered lower regardless. His grip on the comforter tightened and he twitched again, his misery coming this time in the form of a small watery glob that trickled down from his tip. 

Jesus.

A chill shot up his spine when Sarah abruptly leaned forward and dragged her tongue over his tip to collect the pre, his hips involuntarily bucking at the action. She gave a light hum and took him in her hand again, giving him a few experimental pumps that had more pre trickling down his shaft. Her eyes watched him, observing every reaction his body gave her as if it were an actual lesson and she was taking mental notes. 

"I-" He made a low noise in the back of his throat and she stopped, blinking up at him with doe eyes like it was all some casual thing and wouldn't have her dad whipping out a shotgun if he walked in on them. He gave a shaky exhale regardless and raised his hand, suppressing the trembles by pressing his fingers together before he spat into his palm. 

"Oh." Sarah peeled her fingers from him and brought them to her mouth, licking the mess off them while she watched him with a concreated furrow of her brow. Dangerous, was what she was.

He tried ignoring the sight and gave himself a few pumps, pre mixing with saliva and making him glisten under the sunlight pouring in from the window. Her hand replaced his and he rubbed his palms against his thigh, not daring to dirty the comforter that likely costed more than his mattress back home.

She continued moving her hand, squeezing lightly at times and slowly picked up her pace. Her eyes flickered upward to his face once his pants and quiet noises became noticeable, another spark of victory glowing in her eyes. 

A strangled curse fell from his mouth when she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around him, her hands falling to grip his calves and dig half-moons into his skin. (Y/N) had half a mind to gather her bronze hair up with his cleaner hand, loosely holding it in a ponytail as she began attempting to fit him further into her mouth.

Her eyes squeezed shut, driplets of drool escaping from the corners of her mouth. He could tell she made an effort to breathe through her nose through the newfound haze in his head and gave her hair a light tug to coax her into taking a breather. 

She leaned back and inhaled, her lips already swollen and slick. Her forehead creased with some frustration, reminding him that stubbornness ran in the family, before she leaned in again, wet warmth enveloping him and forcing another buck from his hips despite his best attempts at remaining still.

She made a small noise, unintentionally sending vibrations right to his gut where a knot slowly began to form and forcing a guttural groan out of him. He practically watched a lightbulb flicker in her head.

Sarah Cameron, as he came to learn, was a quick learner. She scraped him lightly with her teeth every now and again, her watery eyes jumping up to look at him apologetically to which he gave a reassuring nod despite his gaze only focusing on where they were connecting, but she managed to keep it to a minimum. She had little idea what she was attempting to do, likely going off what she'd seen or heard, but she gave it her all and was rewarded with noises he'd never heard from himself before.

It was messy, with an occasional gag or choke or gasp for air when she pulled back, but she kept going with determination he'd certainly never have. 

Kook girls were certainly something.

With another curse, another half-stutter of his hips, and another surprised noise from the kneeling blonde, the tightened knot in his gut burst and he spilled in her mouth. Her hand grasped the base again and she pulled back enough to only have the tip ensnared in her mouth, suckling as if she were drinking soda that'd spilled over onto the lid of a cup.

His legs trembled and his back slumped, the AC keeping the sweat from collecting across his temple. He hoped he could shower or at least curl up for a nap somewhere in the manor like a cat who'd strolled in through an open window.

Sarah leaned back and wiped at her mouth, looking like the cat who'd caught the canary with her prideful and even smug smile. She was full of surprises.

He released her hair and took the liberty of slumping back onto the bed, letting out a heavy exhale that left his body deflating into the comforter. His view of the white ceiling was obstructed by her pretty face, lips still glistening and pulled into a small smile.

"Maybe we could.. go all the way sometime?" Sarah asked, strands of her hair tickling the side of his face when she leaned down to kiss the corner of his lips. He blinked.

"Thought this was all for Topper?"

Her nose crinkled with a laugh and her shoulders moved with a shrug. "I used him as an excuse." She revealed, lowering down to lay on top of him and prop her chin on his chest.

"Oh." He should've guessed as much; no girl with any actual interest in her partner gave head to other people. His brother always lamented about his gullibility.

"So?" She tilted her head and batted her lashes. "What do you say?"

"Yeah," He murmured, lips pulling upward. "Sure."

[jamiedc-they-them]

Please a The Rookie Tim Bradford x Shy!Adopted!Daughter!Reader? Where it’s her senior year and she’s a cheerleader and she’s doing her senior solo cheer and the stations there (Angela, Wesley, Nyla, James, Wade, Luna, Lucy, Aaron, Celina) and this is their first reaction to her cheer (her cheer can be this one: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTYognBE1/) and they’re cheering her on and you can finish the rest

Family Matters (Platonic)

Summary: Lucy likes to think she knows Tim at least a little, he is dating her best friend after all. However, what she learns is not something she ever expected.

Notes: Sorry to the requester as I think some of the other characters you mentioned come in later in the show, I'm only up to Season 2 Episode 6. Apologies!

Also, I'm from the UK and also very tired so I apologise if anything about cheer is wrong :)

Lucy knew Isabel was hard for Tim, a spot to not bring up. But, something was eating at him today. It wasn't anger, more...dare she say it? Nervous to him today.

He kept looking at his watch. Even Angela seemed to lighten up a bit with their friendly teasing.

Lucy didn't pressure him, though. So, she kept it casual, keeping their conversations how they normally would, when Tim's phone went off. He had put it in the holder, letting the audio book she recorded for him play as they went on patrol.

"It's Angela," Lucy said, picking up the phone, eyes going confused when she read the text - well, she only read the first part, when it was snatched from her grasp.

"Uh-uh," Tim said. His strict TO voice coming through, but also something else. Something like his look this morning.

"Sorry," Lucy said, hands going up.

"Relax, boot," he said, voice softening a little - ever so little, and yet she still picked up on it. See, she did know him at least, "I ain't gonna arrest you."

She snorted, despite herself, "just never seen someone so defensive over a phone before."

"Look, today's not the day, alright?" he said, sharpness coming back. He looked at her, and she saw a silent plead in his eyes.

"Of course, sir," she said. Then again, curiosity and all that --

"Who's Y/N?" it slipped out before she could even help it.

He looked at her again, this time a look she hadn't seen in his eyes since...well, maybe ever:

Life. Love. Hope.

"She's my daughter," he said.

Her eyes widened.

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

You loved your parents, both of them. You knew what had happened with your mother, your father had told you as gently as he could.

You just hoped that she would be able to make her way out of her addiction. You wanted her to be ok.

She was getting there, taking actual steps to do so.

You would go see her, one day. Your dad had told you that she was ok with that, only wanting to go see her when you were ready.

As for you? You threw yourself into your cheer team.

You had a natural talent for it when younger, and your father had supported you with all he had.

However, as things took a turn, you and him ended up going a bit further into work and hobbies.

You weren't estranged, you still spoke and had parent and child bonding times of watching films. It was just more difficult as you both tried to deal with everything changing.

Tonight was a special performance, a solo cheer that you were doing. You had been doing all you could to practice for it. A chance to prove yourself.

You had been texting your aunt, as you knew your dad didn't like to use his phone much when at work.

She had assured you that herself and some of the others would be there, but that most importantly he would be there.

The other people in your cheer place were nice, friendly and fully got you for you. You didn't talk that much, preferred to be in the background - not that it was a bad thing of course, pieces to a puzzle and all - but they and your coach convinced you to do this solo.

So, you looked at the crowd before the game.

You took a breath, as one of your team mates can up to you, taking you away from the curtain to try help with your nerves.

Your friends were great, but you wanted your family.

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

Lucy now knew why Tim had taken a half shift that day. She knew why Angela had texted him. She knew why he was more on edge than usual.

He wanted to make sure he made it.

"Hey, we ain't having you miss this," Angela promised back at the station, putting a hand on Tim's shoulder as he sat on the corner of a desk, arms folded and staring at his watch every few moments.

A hard half-day had been the last thing he wanted. It had wasted time, even if he made people safe.

"We still need to book this guy," he said, looking to the criminal him and Lucy had brought in for...god, he was so distracted today. He'd missed things like this before, but this one he knew was special from what you had said about it when he got home from work.

He stood up, putting his face in his hands. Sure, he didn't like being as vulnerable as this at work, especially in front of rookies, but from the look Nolan gave him when he met his eyes for a minute, right now it didn't matter about work or ranks, it was a family matter.

"I can book him," Nolan even offered.

It was kind, but Tim waved him off, "she'd want to meet all of you, especially you new rookies. Just..." he looked back at them all, "just...she's a bit shy, ok? So don't like, pressure her to talk or anything."

Nolan was dead serious with the shake of his head, "oh, no, I wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Tim had a growing respect for Nolan, and this was just another reason to add to that list.

"Officer Bradford," Sergeant Grey said as he joined them all, "you are aware that we have other officers here and that this precinct isn't just you all, correct?"

"Of course, sir," Tim said, the others also nodding.

Grey nodded, sly smile, "so why are you all acting like we can't get another officer to book this man in, thus letting us all go and see Y/N's cheer?"

"You're coming?" Tim said and Lucy didn't think she could ever see him so happy.

"Course I'm coming," Grey said like it was obvious, "I've seen that girl grow up, Tim. I'm the favourite uncle."

"Wouldn't you be the gran--"

"Something you'd like to add, Officer Nolan?" Grey asked, eyebrow raised as he pretended not to hear that.

Nolan shook his head instantly, then coughing from Nyla hitting him with her elbow, "no sir."

Grey nodded, "just what I thought. Now," he said, looking at the rest of them before nodding to Tim, "lead the way, Officer Bradford."

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

You took a final breath, your team giving you silent support before you walked onto field, to the centre. Your team hyped you on from the background, all eyes on you.

And so, you began.

You looked at the crowd for a moment, stumbling slightly but managing to catch yourself before anyone noticed.

You looked back to your team, joining in with your chants and pointed subtely.

There they were, old and new faces.

And right in the middle of them? Tim Bradford, your father.

He was clapping, everyone else joining in, both in rhythm and in the chants.

Just like that, it was over.

You all went to the sidelines, and the game went on.

It went by like a flash.

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

After it, you got changed and made your way out, but was swept up in a hug by your father, "there she is!" he said, his guard completely down, "you were amazing, sweetheart!"

You giggled, hugging him close.

"Y/N," he said, putting hand on your shoulder and gesturing for the others to come over, "I'd like you to meet Lucy Chen, my boot; John Nolan, Nyla's boot - previously Bishop's - and Jackson West, Angela's boot."

Lucy came forward, beaming smile and hand outstretched, eager to meet you. You clasped her hand gently, shaking it.

"Hi! It's so good to meet you! You were amazing out there! Tim, I'll send you some photos later and oh, sorry --" she said, knowing she was rambling.

"It - it's ok," you assured. Her smile grew more, before she stepped back, letting her friends go forward as well.

"I agree with Lucy," the older one said, holding out his hand, "John Nolan, pleasure," he had a parental feeling to him that made you feel safe, that he got that you wanted this to be quick.

"Pleasure, ma'am," Jackson said, hand outstretched, "and I concur, you were incredible. You should be proud."

You nodded, giggling a bit before turning to your aunt, "he always this serious."

Angela shrugged, "I'm trying to tire it out of him. We only did a half day, remember?"

You nodded, "...right."

She came over, hugging you before ruffling your hair - something she'd done since you were young, even if now in your late teens, "I'll get there. 'sides, he's a good guy. All three are."

You nodded, "I know, I know," you said.

"I gotta say," Grey said, "that was some cheer. You've grown a lot, Y/N."

"Thank you gr-uncle Grey," you said, looking to your dad who gave you a wink: nice save.

"Hi, Wesley," a man in a suit said.

You shook his hand, eyes coming to life more as you looked back at your aunt, "ah, so this will be my uncle-in-law."

He went red at that, Angela letting out a laugh and cough at that.

She looked to Tim, "traitor!"

Tim raised his hands, "hey, you know the rules when it comes to family -"

"'No secrets', yeah Bradford, I remember," Angela said, rolling her eyes fondly. You did clock how she held Wesley's hand after that.

You looked to Nyla, giving a smile and approaching with hands together.

"You must be the new TO," you said, "I know you're still getting used to being back from undercover. So, I understand if just a hello is ok for now. But, I hope I can get to know you more?"

Nyla smiled softly, "perceptive, aren't you?" she said in a soft tone, "ever thought about being an officer?"

You shook your head, "I'll leave that to you guys. I think I'd prefer just a simple life, however I can."

Nyla nodded, "understood. But, keep that sharp eye of yours."

You tilted your head, looking at her and then at Nolan, "do you both have kids?"

They nodded, "a son, Henry," Nolan said.

"A daughter. Quite a bit younger than you," Nyla said, "I don't know what she wants to be yet, she's still learning. But, and don't tell anyone else this," she said, leaning down a bit, "I might just start bringing up cheer more after seeing moves like that."

You smiled, nodding, before making a zipping motion to your mouth.

You went back to your dad, who put an arm around your shoulder.

This was your family, with new additions.

They loved you for who you were.

Your dad knew you worried. You always would. But, you also had friends to help ground you, just as he did.

Neither of you were alone.

[just-a-creep-babe]

What Makes You Tick - Chapter 1

(Ticci Toby x Reader)

Waah idk why I'm so nervous to post this part T~T 🖤🖤 I really hope you enjoy! And it would make me super happy if you lmk what you think!! 🖤🖤

Commissions are open!

Check out my ko-fi if you'd like to support me!

Masterlist: x

Prologue

Divider by @plum98

The scream is loud.

It’s shrill and abrasive, and it ends as quickly as it began—like the person’s breath was abruptly interrupted.

You bolt up. The sound awakens a deep, primal urge within you, and in a matter of seconds, you’re on high alert.

The fact that you’re home alone really only makes the whole situation that much worse.

You count the seconds ever so slowly ticking by. You don’t dare to move an inch. You just hold your breath, waiting, listening to the sound of your own heartbeat in your eardrums.

When you reach 100 and there isn’t another piercing scream, only then does your body recover from the freeze instinct. You move to the windows, try to see something—anything outside.

When nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, you nervously chew at your lip. Did you just imagine it? You don’t see anyone outside; no worried onlookers trying to find the source of the noise, no frantic person wandering the streets for help, nothing.

What are the chances only you would’ve heard it?

The scream replays itself in your head. It sounded like it could’ve come from your downstairs neighbor.

You’re probably the closest person in the vicinity, you realize. If they need help, you might be the only person who could assist them.

You grab your phone and rush out the door. Down the steps, you reach your neighbor’s door and offer three quick knocks against the wood.

You wait, nervously, anxiously, every second ticking by feeling much too long for comfort. When there’s no answer, you knock again. The memory of the scream rings in your ears again, and you feel your hands get sweaty with stress.

No one answers the door. You check your phone, calculate that at least seven minutes have gone by. Would it be appropriate to call the cops?

You open the phone app, then hesitate. Would they even take you seriously? You never once called the police in your life, and just thinking about it has you conjuring up a whole slew of ways it could go wrong.

You linger around the door for a few more minutes, then eventually give up and return up to your apartment. Your plan is to call your parents or roommate or maybe even your friend—anyone who might be able to advise you on what to do. But as soon as you reach your door, you get an eerie chill up your spine. Something isn’t right.

Your door is open.

It’s just a crack; barely even noticeable, and though you did leave in a rush, you’re fairly certain you didn’t leave the door open. It’s not something you would do.

You clutch your phone between tense fingers. Calling for help—even though it should be—is no longer on your mind. All you’re thinking about is who the fuck is in your home right now—and why.

It’s, again, like a fight, flight or freeze instinct kicking in. Except this time, your usual sense of self-preservation is overridden and you’re fully ready to fight.

You open the door, half expecting to see someone in the middle of your living room, but there’s no one there. Relief nearly washes over you, until you glance down and notice a trail of dirt leading deeper into your house.

Seeing it suddenly makes it all the more real.

There’s really someone here. There’s a stranger in your house.

As quietly as humanly possible, you follow along the trail. You’re so focused that your surroundings almost seem to melt away. When you see it; the silhouette of a person you don’t recognize, who doesn’t belong here, in your house, you act without second thought.

One hard hit to the back of the head is all it takes. The person crumples to the floor on impact. You gasp, the sound completely involuntary because holy shit—did that just happen?

Suddenly remembering your phone, you yank it up and dial 911.

The person seems to be knocked out cold, and as the line is ringing, you realize your hand hurts from hitting them so hard. A wave of fear tightens in your chest. Surely, you didn’t severely injure them, right? Surely, they’re just knocked out for a little while, and then they’ll wake up, and they’ll be fine, and you won’t get into any trouble, right?

It all counts as self-defense anyways, right?

Having never called the cops before, you don’t think much of the wait time. Your mind is so preoccupied with what you’ve done, with what’s happened in such a short amount of time, that you don’t even realize how long you’re waiting for.

But then you start to get nervous that the intruder will wake up. Or, worse, that they won’t wake up. The line is still ringing, and when you bring your phone down to check how long it’s been, you find that over five minutes have passed.

What the fuck is going on?

You can only stand to wait a few more minutes before you realize no one’s going to answer.

Maybe something’s down with the lines, or some other big emergency happened elsewhere and they don’t have the staff required to answer. Whatever it is, you’re on your own right now.

You hang up, tell yourself you’ll call back in a few minutes, and then you’re left staring at the knocked-out body of the intruder.

Judging by the shape and size of the figure, they seem to be male. They’re relatively tall and lean, with a square kind of build that tapers down at their hips. You can’t see their face, but they have thick, curly brown hair that reaches below their ears.

You should flip them over, you think. You should flip them over and take a picture of their face so that you have some kind of proof.

You kneel down, wrap your fingers around their form, and, as gently as you can so as to not wake them, you turn them over.

Your stomach drops at the sight. You can’t see their face since it’s hidden beneath orange-tilted goggles and some kind of mouthguard. But it’s what you see on their clothes that has you feeling light-headed.

Blood.

They’re covered in it.

It’s splattered along the front of their hoody, staining the fabric in a dark crimson color. You can’t tell if it’s theirs or someone else’s, and though all logic points to the former, you don’t even want to piece everything together.

You notice as well, now that they’re turned over, that they have a belt tied around their hips. And two blood-soaked axes are hanging from it.

You nearly scream, but the bile threatening to rise up your throat has you holding it all in. And you’re thankful for it, because god knows you don’t want them to wake up now.

If you weren’t high on adrenaline, you’re certain you’d be panicking—more so than you are now, at least. But it’s like your senses are heightened, and your thoughts are much clearer than they otherwise would be, and something inside you is forcing you to stay as calm as possible.

Secure them.

You need to find something to secure them before they wake up.

The best thing you can find on such short notice is a long-sleeved shirt you’d haphazardly left in the living room. You’d meant to put it away, but you hadn’t gotten to it yet—and you’ve never been so thankful for your laziness.

Your hands are shaking as you wrap the sleeves around the stranger’s wrists. You try to make it as tight as possible, and then you knot it over and over again until you’ve no more fabric left to tighten.

You’re grabbing your phone and dialing 911 again as soon as you can. But when you bring it up to your ear, the line doesn’t ring. You wait—fifteen seconds, thirty, a minute—expecting the ringing to start at any moment, but it doesn’t.

On the other end of the line, there’s just silence. Eerie, cold, dead silence. The ends of your hair stand at attention from the goosebumps rising on your skin. Something’s definitely not right.

Just as you’re about to hang up—static blares from your phone. It’s loud and unbearable and completely overpowering, like the sound is ringing inside your own head. It's impossible to think straight.

You scream, throwing your phone to stop the noise. But even with the phone away from your ears, it’s like the noise keeps echoing in your mind. All you can do is press your hands to your ears and squeeze your eyes shut and scream in agony.

It’s dizzying. It’s nauseating. You have no space to think, no space to do anything but clutch your ears and pray the noise will stop. It’s maddening.

You feel like you’re on the verge of passing out from the sheer pain and intensity of it all when, in an instant, it stops.

You don’t pull your hands away from your ears for a good few seconds afterward. Your heart is pumping loudly in your chest. Your jaw hurts from grinding your teeth. Every muscle in your body feels sore from overexertion.

What just happened—are you losing your mind?

Slowly, you hesitantly let go of your head and open your eyes.

He’s awake.

You don’t know if it was your screaming that woke him up—all you know is that he’s conscious, and he's sitting upright and looking at you.

A mix of emotions wash over you at once. You’re relieved he’s alive, confused as to what the hell just happened—and most of all—you’re fucking nauseous with fear.

Fear regarding the source of that noise, but also regarding the fact that there’s a stranger in your house, covered in blood, and the cops aren’t answering. There’s something wrong with your phone, you're home alone, and your neighbor might be bleeding out beneath the floor under your feet. And there's a stranger restrained in your house and you have no idea what the fuck to do.

The worst part is that the person—that man—looks like he's completely calm and at ease. Like he's in total control of the situation.

The nausea worsens, butterflies making you utterly sick to your stomach. It almost feels like you're the one restrained, not him.

You don’t know what to do with yourself.

You stare at him, and he stares back. Or, at least, you think he does; it’s hard to tell beneath his colored lenses.

Your gaze flickers to the hatchets, still secured around his waist. You kick yourself for not taking them off of him. And then you look at your phone, which you threw halfway between you and him, and you swallow back the lump in your throat.

When you look back at him, you notice that he’d followed your gaze to also look at your phone. He looks back at you, tilts his head, and your stomach twists in knots.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

You feel like you’ve accidentally trapped some kind of predatory animal in your apartment. It feels like, at any moment, if you make the wrong move, he’ll lunge at you and rip your throat out.

Never once breaking eye contact, you slowly creep forward to reach your phone.

He doesn’t say a single word as you move, which makes it all the worse. He merely watches you, curiously, like you're one of the most fascinating things he's ever seen.

When you finally reach your phone, you pick it up, open it, and dial 911 again.

You’re hesitant to press it to your ears. You don’t know what kind of malfunction happened earlier, but you’re not too keen on repeating the experience. You hold it at somewhat of a distance, just in case.

It doesn’t ring.

Just like earlier, all that comes through the line is dead silence. You wait maybe a minute before, out of fear of the static interrupting again, you close the line.

You try not to let your panic show through, because you can feel the stranger eyeing your every move. You dial your roommate’s number, but it’s the same problem.

With unsteady hands, you text your parents that you need help contacting 911. Although they don’t live close to you anymore, they’re usually the fastest to answer your texts. And you need help fast.

When they don’t answer, you text your roommate and friends the same thing. Surely, at least one of them is bound to see the text and help you—right?

“You can—you can try all you want. You won’t be able to reach anyone, a-anyways.”

Your blood freezes.

It takes you a second to register his words, and another to react.

“What… what do you mean?” you ask, though the words make your tongue go numb, as if your body’s warning you that just talking to him is a bad idea.

“He’s watching.”

In the culmination of your entire lifetime, you don’t recall having ever felt such pure, tangible fear.

The feeling is similar to that sensation you get when you’re at the peak of a nightmare—when you’re just about to come face-to-face with the monster, or when you’re about to reach the ground after falling from a great height—when you’re just about to die and it all feels so real.

But this moment feels surreal.

“Who’s watching?”

There’s more conviction in your voice than you feel in your entire system. You don’t know how you manage to sound so calm, so self-assured and in control of the situation, but it’s certainly not how you feel on the inside.

“He is. The one who’s—“ he cracks his neck abruptly to the side, interrupting his own sentence before finishing, “always watching.”

Another chill up your spine, though you manage to mask it fairly well, all things considered.

“Don’t—don’t worry. The police will be here—here—they’ll be here soon. Maybe 15, 20 minutes?”

You don’t know whether you should be relieved or unnerved by his reassurance.

“How… do you know that?” you ask hesitantly.

He shrugs, the movement entirely too comfortable, entirely too nonchalant.

“S-s’almost always the same.”

You want out. You want out of this conversation, out of this whole situation. You want him out of your house.

“What do you mean?” you ask, “How many times have you done this?”

You don’t know if you want the answer to your own question. In all honesty, you don’t even want to consider what the “this” in your question even refers to.

But it’s out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself.

He tilts his head, like he’s considering it. And then, after a few seconds, he shrugs again.

“Lost count.”

You don’t like his answer.

15-20 minutes, you think. There’s a chance he's lying to put you at ease, to prevent you from calling again.

But there’s a chance he’s right.

There’s a chance a neighbor heard, or your friends or family saw the text and are getting help. Either way, you realize that you have time to burn. You need to stay calm, focused.

He doesn’t seem agitated, which you take to be a good thing. He doesn’t seem frustrated or angry or unstable. If anything, it’s like he’s open to talking.

What more could you ask for?

You rack your brain for the best course of action. But you’re at a loss. You’re panicking on the inside.

You realize that one of the best things you could probably do is keep him preoccupied, keep him distracted.

“…How old are you?”

You don’t know why that, of all things, is the first question to come to mind. But it seems like a safe enough bet; it’s not too personal so as to upset him, and yet it might help narrow his identity or motivations down.

If only you’d had the chance to remove his mask and snap a pic of his face before he woke up.

You don’t expect him to take as long to answer as he does. He tilts his head again, looks up like he’s trying to calculate something in his head.

And then his answer sends another wave of unease through your system.

“Lost count,” he admits, repeating his previous answer.

You don’t know what that means, what it entails, but you don't even want to know either, at this point.

You rack your brain for another question, something light and easy to keep him talking, when he suddenly jerks his shoulder in a way that doesn’t look entirely voluntary.

You pause.

Did he... did he consume something?

It would explain a few things, though not everything.

He seems coherent enough to hold a conversation, but it’s not like he’s making the most sense. And, at the very least, blaming the strangeness of this whole situation on something simple would make you feel better.

To test out your theory, you ask him outright, “Why are you here? Do you know where you are?”

He looks around, like he’s only now noticing he’s in your apartment.

“This the—the—the upstairs unit? Your place?”

You nod, slowly, but even as you do, you’re not sure you want him to know that. And then you also don’t want to know the answer to the next question, but you need to ask.

“What happened?”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for his response. The way he states it too—so simply, so obviously, like it was as normal as going for groceries—makes you completely sick to your stomach.

And the magnitude of the situation fully crashes down on you when he answers.

“I killed her.”

[vervainandspritz]

JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

It's a little addition to the three part fic! A little closure for people who needed it!

Warnings: swearing, fluff, comfort

A/N: that's it guys, they're gonna be happy I promise

~~

If someone asked, Y/N wouldn't be able to pinpoint the moment when she started feeling like home in the Arrow house. The realisation at first made her… fearful almost, as she knew how comfortable the boys became with the house. With Tommy. They’ve spent nearly a year here since the ongoing threats from the Changrettas. Could she take these young boys away from what they’ve known? Before, Y/N was doing her very best to focus on day to day life, back when her relationship with Thomas was very difficult and… barely there. Now, on the other hand, things looked different and day by day he kept proving to her that he deserved to be a father to Nick and Tommy.

Functioning around and with Thomas grew on her more than she'd like to admit. Subconsciously, she memorised his work schedule to make sure he had something warm to eat after coming home. Whenever she wouldn't know how to handle an issue, she would come to him instinctually. No matter whether it was a serious matter, or a stubborn lid on a jar she couldn't open.

Basically, they lived like a family. Neither of them expected the shift in the air that would happen after realising that… they weren't forced to live together anymore. The threat was gone, and so was the excuse for living together despite their uncertain situation. It was easier to brush it away, having an excuse other than… the want to stay. Thomas didn't dare to touch this topic, maybe fearing he'd give her an idea to leave.

So they both pretended like the matter didn't exist.

Y/N thought about it while she scrambled around the room, looking for Nick's pants in the midst of chaos as Tommy ran around fully dressed.

”Bloody hell” She mumbled, moving around in her nightgown, not prepared at all. Guests would start arriving in about forty minutes so she had to be quick.

“There!” She exclaimed happily, pulling out the small piece of clothing from their wardrobe as she grabbed the boy to put it on. A satisfied smile appeared on her lips as she took in their appearance. Their white shirts contrasted with the dark blue suit pants and suspenders which ensured that, well… their pants would stay where they're supposed to.

As she moved towards her vanity, Y/N looked at her face to check whether her makeup that she put on while her boys were taking a nap still looked neat, letting out a sigh of relief as it was all fine. In the corner of her eye, she noticed Tommy wearing only his right shoe, running towards the door while holding the other in his hand.

”Thomas!” She yelled after him, using his full name for a better effect, which… clearly didn't work, as the boy ran out of the room.

Without a second thought, Y/N rushed after him, immediately fearing that he'd fall down the stairs.

She repeated his name, falling out of the room at high speed, and before she could react, she stumbled upon the one person she didn't expect to stand there, Thomas. He stood there, cocking an eyebrow at the way she looked with her hair up, body covered by the thin fabric.

“Got places to be?” He asked with a head tilt and grin on his lips, causing Y/N’s cheeks to turn bright pink at the way he looked at her.

“No, I–I was dressing up and he.. bolted out of the room.” Y/N couldn't hold in the giggle, seeing Tommy clutching his father's hand and still holding the other shoe, looking proud of himself as ever.

Thomas watched her carefully, secretly loving the way she scrunched up her nose while laughing.

“Don't look at me like that, Shelby. It's your fault.” She pointed out, raising her eyebrows as she put her hand on her hips, causing him to eye her once again before indulging in the banter.

“How so?” He chuckled, still standing really close, and without any intention of moving.

“First off, you went to get ready first and left me with BOTH of them,” she pointed out, counting on her fingers for a dramatic effect. “...and he's a troublemaker because of you. Like father like son,” She added with mischief, causing him to shake his head with a smile.

“Well,” He started before glancing down, “I am in fact wearing both of my shoes, he probably got it from you.” Thomas pointed towards her bare feet, making her blush more fiercely. “And haven’t you always bragged to me about how well you’ve learned to multitask?” he added.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his words, secretly enjoying the exchange.

“I have,” She responded confidently, taking a step forward to reach for the shoe little Tommy was holding, unconsciously closing up some proximity between them. As she straightened her back, she was mere inches from the man's face, gasping as he leaned closer.

“Is that right?” He said with a cocked eyebrow, seeing the way she reacted to being so close to him..

“Mhm” She nodded, trying to hide away how flustered she suddenly felt. Thomas looked at her lips for a second, before smiling and clearing his throat.

He reached a hand out to her face to lightly brush her hair back into place, causing Y/N to involuntarily let out a quiet sigh.

“I’ll have to test it at some point,” He responded in a voice a little too husky to take it as completely innocent, yet nothing bold. It delicately danced on the line she firmly set between them after moving in.

Y/N’s pupils dilated, playfully scoffing at his words, yet unable to find anything smart as an answer. It wasn't often for her to run out of things to say, but it was one of these rare moments, which clearly amused him.

A peal of laughter interrupted the moment, bursting the bubble of tension which seemed to be surrounding them throughout the whole encounter.

Thomas glanced at the small carbon copy of himself, suddenly remembering they weren't alone.

“What's so funny, little man, eh?” He asked in a softer voice, the one he was using purely with their boys.

Without an audible answer, little Tommy's hand shot up, his chubby little finger pointing towards the room.

Looking back, Y/N suddenly froze at the sight in front of them.

The briefly unsupervised Nick had climbed onto the vanity chair and applied a nice thick layer of “crimson passion” lipstick to his nose and forehead.

“As of right now, that's your son” Y/N sighed with a glimmer of humour in her eyes.

Even though it was a joke in this instance, hearing her calling the boys theirs or his always melted his heart. Back when he first discovered their existence, he wasn’t sure Y/N would ever acknowledge his role in front of them.

With a shake of his head, Thomas took a step forward, to her surprise leaning down as he kissed her temple before moving past them.

“I'll take care of them, you go get dressed. Polly and Ada will arrive in less than half an hour.”

***

The small amount of powder on Y/N’s face was the only reason why her cheeks weren't pink as she walked downstairs, catching everyone's eye. She looked radiant wearing her blue evening dress combined with the pearls adorning her neck.

Thomas stood back, watching and he couldn't help but feel almost giddy at how pretty she looked. As everyone greeted her, they moved to the dining room, still chatting, as maids slowly brought out the food and drinks. The atmosphere around the house was much lighter since the threat wasn't hanging above them like a dark cloud anymore. Ada took the opportunity to talk to Y/N about the kids, gushing over their resemblance to her brother.

Arthur and Linda arrived a little later, explaining the delay as their kids had been more fussy than usual.

Y/N listened closely as Polly talked away, trying not to get distracted by Tommy's hand on her lower back whenever she was within his reach, which was quite difficult.

Soon enough he asked the maids to look over the children, giving Y/N a wink before he and his brothers moved to the office, having to look over one of the contracts.

The women were sitting in the living room drinking and gossiping when the conversation turned toward the whole Changretta affair.

“Y/N, you must give me your new address once you and the boys move out,” Linda said with a knowing smile. “Because you're planning on moving out, right?” The straightforwardness of her allusions made the chatter die down, stirring up an awkward atmosphere.

Polly and Ada exchanged awkward glances as the entire mood of the room shifted.

“I'm sure Y/N will let you know about any changes should they occur” Polly replied with a warning tone.

“Should they occur? I don't understand. I thought she only lived here for protection, not to live in sin,” said Linda, glancing around their faces as she raised her eyebrows in surprise. Linda was always bold with her words, but

“I think you've said enough, Linda” Ada coldly said as she glared daggers at her sister-in-law. Y/N rubbed her hands against her lap, looking around nervously. Finishing up her tea, she got up from the couch, thanking them for coming.

“It's about time for my boys to get ready for bed. I think I should go check on them and Frances. Please excuse me” Y/N said with a growing blush of embarrassment and fury on her face. Polly saw how nervous this exchange made her, so didn't dare to try and stop her, instead glaring eloquently at the blonde woman.

Being just around the corner, Y/N overheard the last few sentences.

“What?” Linda asked with a huff, “These were her words at the beginning, don't you remember? Plus they're not even Shelby's technically.” She offered with annoyance, lighting a cigarette and inhaling the smoke as the older woman got up angrily, pointing towards her face.

Y/N walked away before Polly's heated response came to her ears, scooping up Tommy and grabbing little Nick by the hand, as he rubbed his eyes with his fist.

“Let's get you two to bed, hmm?” She said in her softer voice, feeling Tommy nodding against the crook of her neck.

“Noooo” Nick replied in a sleepy voice, watching his steps intently with half lidded eyes, as to not trip over any stairs. Y/N just smiled under her breath, his stubbornness reminding her so much of his father.

After changing them into pyjamas, she managed to put them both to bed despite some fussing from Nick, as expected. She couldn't help but spend a few minutes watching them sleep so peacefully, feeling relief that they were both happy and content.

Standing up from the bed, Y/N froze for a second, only then noticing Thomas standing in the doorway, watching over them calmly.

“What happened?” He asked begrudgingly as soon as the door behind them closed, his eyes scanning her face in search of truth. Y/N didn't meet his gaze, looking ahead as she hugged herself lightly.

“Nothing happened, it was a nice evening” she replied in a tone that didn't even sound convincing to herself.

“It's still early, they're all downstairs.” He pointed out, raising his brows, fully knowing she wasn't being truthful.

“Boys were sleepy,” She pointed out, finally looking at him. He blinked a couple times, before narrowing his eyes.

“Alright,” he eventually said, “They're asleep, so let's join everyone downstairs then” his voice suggested a challenge in his tone, as he tried to get her to… start talking. Y/N sighed with annoyance at his digging, knowing damn well how stubborn he was.

“No, I just–” she stopped, pulling back ”I don't feel good–” Y/N offered but Tommy cut her off,

“It's what she said, isn't it?” His voice was rougher, eyes carefully studying her expression, which was enough to know the answer. “Polly told me,” Immediately added to the question she had written all over her face.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked towards the stairs, hearing fairly loud voices from downstairs, making it all the difficult to process her feelings. His eyes followed hers, sensing the anxiety she was feeling. He knew her too well.

“Let's not talk about it here, come on” Thomas said finally, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards his bedroom. Y/N let him lead her, quietly shutting the door behind as he walked further into the room. She crossed her arms, looking in his direction.

“She's not wrong,” Hardened expression and weak voice were giving away her mixed feelings on the matter, but Tommy let her speak. “I should–should find an apartment somewhere, and go back to work… We're not in danger anymore. We should go.”

Her words created some serious chaos in his head, as he watched her face for a longer minute. Eyes frantically grazing over her expression, unsure whether she was serious. Turning around, Thomas let his gaze drop to the floor as he came up to the window, searching for answers to the questions that weren't even asked.

Not directly. Again this fucking uncertainty, he thought, tired of dancing around the situation they didn't address for so long. The realisation dawned on him, as he felt the real threat of losing them. Of losing her again.

Facing her again, Thomas looked her in the eyes boldly, taking a step forward.

“Did I cause that? Have I don't something wrong that makes you want to leave?” His voice steady, demanding a direct answer. “Tell me what's missing and I'll fix it.”

Y/N groaned with frustration, stepping closer to the wardrobe, creating some distance between them that she do desperately needed to think clearly.

“No, Tommy, it's not that— fuck” she cut herself off with a sigh, looking for the right words. “You didn't do anything wrong, it's just… just not—”

“I don't want you to go.” He said suddenly, cutting her off as she fell silent, looking at him with wide eyes. “I can't stand the thought of losing you again, and.. and this” He pointed towards the door, referring to the situation that took place downstairs. “Should have never happened in the first place. I can't stand this fucking distance. Knowing I can't touch you, that i–i can't kiss you despite having you right here.” His voice grew rougher with simmering anger, directed to nobody but himself. “Having you sleep in another room even though your fucking place is by my side.” He took a step forward, looking in her eyes with emotions swirling in his mind. “Knowing that I have no right to keep you here, and.. and after what i did, I will never deserve you.” He said quieter, reaching for her cheek “But I'm selfish, and I can't let you go when you're standing right here, Y/N. I'm tired of hiding how crazy I am about you.” Tommy's eyes were fixed on her lips, as he licked his own, feeling the sudden dryness in his throat. “But uncertainty is the worst, so… so tell me. I need to know—”

This time, Y/N pressed her lips against his, closing her eyes. Her hand gripping onto his vest, feeling his heart thumping beneath her hand. Kissing him slowly, without any rush, as his words rang in her ears.

“Please” He said weakly as she finally pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. Y/N’s hand combed through his hair, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body.

“Please, don't break my heart, Tommy.” She whispered, feeling the weight easing off of her chest. “Because I won't survive being punished for loving you again.”

Taggin my people: @iilovedonnatartt @gentlebeari @narlytude @honeymoon8 @chaimaarouaine11 @hatethis29 @bruhidkjustwannaread @reiwanwan @immyowndefender @jbrownta @preparedfruit @emptyvoidofmine @dornishannie

[thesunshinebunny]

hellooo can you do any dorm leader with male or g/n reader with fierce wild cat personality? And can you make the reader from RSA?? If not that's fine, ty hope you have a great day!!^^

For context: Some RSA students were sent to Night Raven on an exchange program, just for a couple of months, with the intention of generating a better environment of camaraderie between the two schools. Among them, you, with a personality that does not fit into RSA standards, having quite the reputation for being tough and unpredictable. With a feral demeanor and no time for nonsense, you don’t exactly get along with everyone, but that only adds to their charm (or trouble).

Riddle

Riddle wasn't exactly the type to indulge in chaos, but when you showed up at NRC, it was impossible to ignore the tension you brought. You were like a caged animal, unpredictable and wild, with no care for rules or anyone's expectations. For some reason, though, it was your being among anyone else who participate in the program who intrigued him the most.

He thrived on order, structure, and discipline. But there was something captivating about your raw energy, your untamed spirit. You were dangerous in ways he didn't fully understand, but maybe that's why he couldn't stop watching you. The first time he attempted to approach you, he was meticulous. His usual stern tone came out when he spoke to you. “Pardon me,” Riddle began, his eyes scanning you with a mix of curiosity and caution. “You're from Royal Sword Academy, correct? “I’ve heard you’re quite… independent”

You barely looked up at him, continuing to twirl your claws around your fingers, almost absently. “What about it?” Your voice was cold, guarded, almost like you were daring him to step closer.

Riddle stood a little straighter, although the challenge in your stance did not go unnoticed. He wasn't intimidated, but he couldn't help feeling the sparks of tension between the two of you. “I just want to make sure you understand the rules here at Heartslabyul, and preferably in the entire school. We don't take kindly to disruptions, and—"

“Rules? “Do you mean your rules?” You interrupted, your lips curling into a sly smile. “You really think I care about them?”

For a moment, Riddle wasn't sure how to respond. You were brazen, but he wasn't one to back down. His posture grew more rigid. “There are things that must be done properly, or else there's chaos. And chaos leads to trouble.”

Your eyes locked with his, unblinking, the air around you electric with hostility. You approached him, slowly, like a feline about to pounce on its prey. “I'm no one's pet, Red. Don't try to put me in a cage. I’d rather burn it down.”

Riddle’s jaw tightened, too much, even more than before if that can be possible. Something stirred in him. You were a force of nature, much like him. Maybe that's why he couldn't simply dismiss you. “So, you're saying you'd rather be left unchecked?”

You shrugged, bringing your claws closer to his cheek, being able to scratch his soft, pale skin with the tip of your index finger. You finally exchanged long and penetrating glances with him, but not before forming a small, sharp smile. “I'm saying, I'm not going to be anyone's pet project. But you can surely try. Be my guest, see what would happen”

For a moment, Riddle stared at you, his heart racing despite himself. Maybe you weren't the sort of student who could be “tamed” easily, but that didn't mean Riddle would back off. No, he was intrigued, and he could already feel a rivalry—or perhaps something more dangerous—brewing between the two of you.

Leona

Leona had seen many personalities come through these halls, but nothing quite like you. A RSA student with a reputation as sharp as your claws, and a temper to match. You weren't here to be a lapdog, and he admired that. Although the other students weren't sure how to approach you, Leona's wild side made him think that maybe, just maybe, you were someone worth getting to know.

You had a way of carrying yourself like a prowling predator—eyes always scanning, every movement a mix of grace and lethal purpose. You didn't speak much, but when you did, your words carried weight. You didn't need to be loud to make a point; your presence did all the talking.

Leona watched you from a distance as you wandered through the halls, your usual scowl fixed in place. His eyes narrowed, a slow smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

It wasn't long before the inevitable encounter came. You were walking through the courtyard when you spotted Leona leaning lazily against a stone pillar, his usual nonchalance making your hackles rise. There was something in his gaze—an unspoken challenge that intrigued you but also grated against your nerves. You stopped in your tracks, eyes narrowing. "D'you need something, Kingscholar?"

Leona chuckled, his tail flicking behind him in amusement. “Nothing. Just wanted to see how long you’d last without making a scene.”

You didn't flinch. Instead, you let out a low growl, like a cat warning another to stay out of its territory. "Do you spend all your time thinking about me? I'm flattered"

His smirk widened as he pushed off the pillar and took a few steps toward you. “You've got the fire of a wild animal, and I can't help but wonder if you'll bite if provoked.”

You raised an eyebrow, sizing him up. His confidence wasn't unwarranted, but you didn't back down easily, especially not to someone who thought they could take the upper hand. “Don't tempt me, second-boy. I don’t need anyone’s permission to run this jungle.”

Leona's eyes glinted, an animalistic challenge flashing through them. “We’ll see about that.”

You didn't know what it was, exactly whether it was his laid-back attitude that rubbed you the wrong way, or the way he kept provoking you, but you felt that familiar wild instinct rising within you. Before you could even think, you were right in his face, your gaze as sharp as a predator's. “You wanna test me? Come on, we both know you bite more than you can chew.”

Leona's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Maybe I will." He stood his ground, his posture tense but ready, his pride as untamed as yours. "But I think you're more than just a wildcat with sharp claws, aren't you? You've got a heart to match that fierce spirit. And I'm curious to see how far you'll go to prove it. "

You blinked, a bit taken back by his words. For a moment, the tension between you two felt like a standoff between two predators, but underneath it, there was something else, something more complex than either of you were willing to admit. Leona wasn't scared of you. In fact, he was downright fascinated. And as for you, well… you had no idea why his challenge made your pulse race.

Azul

Azul was used to work with all sorts of personalities. His intelligence, charm, and resourcefulness usually meant that he could talk his way out of (or into) any situation. However, you were something completely different. You weren't the type to be easily swayed by words, and that intrigued him, but also irritated him.

You had been summoned to his VIP office for a "friendly discussion," as he put it, about how you had been causing disturbances in the halls and dining areas. But you weren't the type to sit quietly and listen to lectures.

Azul was sitting behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, a charming smile playing at the edges of his lips. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you (y/n). You have quite the fiery reputation, wouldn’t you say?”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, not showing much interest in his little speech. “Not a reputation I’m interested in keeping between these lounge halls.” He was taunting you, inviting you to leave and never set foot in his business again, or allowing you to stay, on his terms.

Your gaze was cool, sharp, as you observed his every movement, calculating. “I don't need your approval. I’m here because I want to”

Azul chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “And I'm not here to give you my approval. I'm simply offering you a deal. You see, it's all about negotiation. If you’re willing to work with me, we could make your life here a bit easier… or perhaps, more interesting.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “A deal, huh? Don't think you can buy me with your shiny words and contracts, fish boy. I’m not some easy prey.”

Azul’s smile faltered just slightly, but it quickly returned, colder and more calculating. “Oh no. I'm not trying to buy you. I'm offering a partnership. You’re a formidable individual, but even the wildest creatures need a master at times.” His voice lowered, sharp and calculating. “That's where I come in. All you’d have to do is bend a little.”

For a moment, your expression hardened, the words stinging in a way Azul had not anticipated. “I don't bend. I break, especially anything that tries to hold me down.”

Azul's smile remained, but there was a quiet understanding in his eyes. You were a force of nature, and he could respect that. But he wasn't the type to just give up either. “We'll see. It’s always a pleasure to find out just how far someone like you is willing to push before they snap.”

Kalim

Kalim was the kind of person who loved everything and everyone, with a big, bold, and full of warmth personality. But when it came to you, the wild, unpredictable RSA student with a temper like a storm, even his usual optimism had to take a step back.

He had seen you during one of your "episodes"—a moment when you had gotten into a tense altercation with another student, your sharp words and fiery stare more than enough to keep anyone from pushing you further. Kalim, however, wasn't easily intimidated. His natural exuberance meant he wanted to break through that tough exterior and see what lay beneath.

“Hey! (y/n)!” Kalim’s voice was bright as he approached you in the courtyard, his usual cheerfulness radiating. “You've gotta come to one of our parties in Scarabia sometime!” His radiant gaze, not to mention his smile, was enough to destabilize you for a millisecond. “It'll be so much fun! You can hang out with me and Jamil, and maybe you can even let loose a little!”

You eyed him skeptically. “What do you think I need to ‘let loose’ for? You’ve got your whole ‘party animal’ vibe going, but I don’t think it’s gonna charm me.” You emphasized the word animal, making it clear that you would not be one more at their exorbitant parties, nor a zoo animal for his amusement.

Kalim wasn't put off by your cold response. He just laughed, his smile wide and genuine. “I'm not trying to charm you. I just think someone like you deserves a little fun! You’re always so serious and intense… it’s gotta be exhausting.”

You crossed your arms and tilted your head, studying him. “I don't need your pity, Kalim. If you want a fight, I'm happy to give you one.”

Kalim blinked, looking at you for a moment like you were a puzzle he just couldn't figure out. Then he beamed even brighter. “Nah, I'm not here for a fight! I’m here for you to have a good time!” This boy could destabilize anyone, too much good energy in a school that was too gloomy. Maybe he should have gone to the RSA and you should have gone here. “You're a lot of fun already, and I want you to know that you don't have to be all fierce all the time. You can relax with us. I’ll make sure of it!”

You scowled, trying to suppress the soft tug at your heart from his genuine kindness. “You think I'm gonna let you change me?”

Kalim only laughed again, his eyes twinkling with optimism. “Not change you! I just want to show you there's more to life than being on edge. You’ve got a big heart under all that fire, I can tell.”

He wasn't wrong, and that only frustrated you more. But for once, you didn't want to snap. Kalim's exuberant energy was infectious, even if it wasn't your thing. Still, you weren't about to admit it.

Vil

Vil was someone who took pride in his appearance, discipline, and the image of perfection. As a rising star in the world of beauty, he believed that everyone, especially students at Pomefiore, should strive for refinement and grace. Your wild, untamed personality was the complete opposite of what he valued, but that made you… all the more interesting to him.

At first, Vil had dismissed you. There was no room for chaos in his world of elegance, and you had made your first impression by causing a disruption during potion classes, which only fed the rumors of your wildcat-like nature. However, something about your ferocity and refusal to be "refined" piqued his curiosity.

One afternoon, you were taking a walk around campus, trying to enjoy a brief moment of solitude when Vil appeared in front of you. His posture was regal, eyes sharp and calculating as always.

“(Y/S), was it? you’ve made quite the impression at this school,” Vil began, his voice smooth and flawless, like velvet. “Your reputation precedes you”

You didn't bother to hide your scowl, your gaze narrowing in response. "And what's it to you? I'm not here to impress anyone, least of all your pompous ass"

Vil's lips curled into a practiced smile. “I see. But your appearance seems to speak for itself, whether you like it or not. You’re simply… not the ideal student.” His voice carried a certain weight, one that made your spine straighten, your wild instincts on high alert.

"Is that your way of telling me I'm a failure?" you shot back, voice sharp as a whip.

Vil tilted his head slightly, studying you as though you were a work of art he couldn't quite figure out. "Not a failure—no. But certainly, a diamond in the rough” His eyes glammed. “I could help you polish that sharp edge of yours. I could show you how to refine that… wild energy into something more elegant.”

You bristled, your hackles raising. “I don't need you to 'polish' me, Schoenheit. I’m not some porcelain little doll for your beauty standards”

Vil's gaze hardened, a flicker of irritation in his eyes. But his composure didn't falter. "No, you're not. And that's what makes you so fascinating. A challenge. But if you ever want to learn the art of discipline and true beauty, I'll be more than happy to show you.”

He paused, watching you closely. “That is, of course, if you think you're capable of learning.”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. "I don't need your lessons” you almost spit on his words, such an insult for you and for him. Who does he think he is to say what you can or can't study. And who do you think you are to despise such kindness from Vil.

Vil's eyes softened slightly, amusement creeping into his voice. “Your spirit could be refined. You’d be far more beautiful if you embraced it.”

Despite himself, his words made your heart race. You didn't know whether it was the challenge in his tone or the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he saw something in you beyond your wild and hard cocoon. But you wouldn't let him know that.

“I'll consider your offer,” you muttered, walking past him. “But don't expect me to become your little pet”

Vil watched you walk away, his smile a little more genuine this time. "We shall see, darling, we shall see"

Idia

Idia was a different breed entirely. His social anxiety, introversion, and affinity for gaming made him the complete opposite of someone like you—someone who had a fiery, untamed spirit that didn't fit into his quiet world of screens and isolation. He'd heard rumors of the wild RSA student who had a temper to rival the most volatile storms, and as much as Idia preferred to keep to himself, he couldn't help but be a little curious.

When he first saw you, it wasn't during a calm, collected conversation. No, you were already in the middle of a heated argument with someone else over them bumping into you casually in the hallway. Your voice was sharp, your body language wild and defensive. Idia couldn't help but stare from behind his thick, holographic screens in the dorm's lounge, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“Yikes… that person is scary…” Idia mumbled to himself, retreating a bit further into his hoodie.

It wasn't long before he found himself face-to-face with you by accident during a late-night trip to the vending machines…in Ignihyde, how you ended up there is beyond me. Idia froze as soon as you turned the corner, nearly bumping into him. He was all awkward gestures and stammered apologies, his eyes darting to the floor.

“Oh! sorry, sorry! Didn't mean to block the path…” His voice was quiet, practically a squeak.

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by his sudden fluster. “It's fine. Just… don’t make it a habit, alright?”

He looked up at you through his disheveled hair, clearly taken back by your bluntness. “Of course! I wasn't trying to…” His voice cracked in his nervousness. “You're, uh… (y/s), right? From RSA? I’ve heard about you…”

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms. “Yeah, and?”

He adjusted himself, cheeks flushing behind the heavy hoodie. “It’s just that… you’re kind of… intimidating.” His voice trailed off toward the end, unsure of how to continue.

You narrowed your eyes, intrigued but still not fully willing to show it. “Well, you're not wrong. So what?"

Idia panicked, his mind racing. "I just… you seem like someone who doesn't take things lying down! That’s kinda cool, actually!” he have mumbled the last part, but you heard it clearly.

For a brief moment, you softened, just a little. The truth was, Idia wasn't like everyone else. He didn't try to challenge you like Kingscholar or force you into submission like the little red one…what was his name again? It didn't matter right now.

He was genuinely curious about you in his awkward, quiet way. You smirked, folding your arms even tighter. “You're a strange one, Shroud. Not what I expected from someone who hides behind screens all day.”

Idia flinched, but the slight tease didn't seem to bother him. Instead, he brightened, a little spark of excitement in his eyes. “I’m more comfortable with technology, games and computers than with people, so…”

“Figures,” you said, giving him a sideways glance. “But you're not completely useless. Maybe you're not so bad” Idia's face lit up, and for the first time in a long time, he found himself actually engaged in a conversation, not out of fear or obligation, but out of genuine curiosity. You grinned, your feral smile making your heart skip. “Don't get the wrong idea, Shroud. I'm not going easy on you just because you're all shy and stuff. But I respect someone who can keep their cool despite being thrown into the fire.”

He blinked, processing your words. “So… does that mean… you want to play a game with me sometime?”

You paused for a moment, then gave him a knowing smirk. “Sure. But you better be prepared. I don’t lose.”

Idia practically melted at the thought. "I'll be ready!" His excitement was palpable. For once, he wasn't overwhelmed by your fierce attitude. Instead, he saw it as a challenge, a game of sorts, and the idea made him feel more alive than he had in a while.

Malleus

Malleus wasn't someone who was easily moved by most things. Yet, something about you, the fierce, untamed RSA student with a personality like a wild animal, caught his attention. He had watched you from afar, intrigued by your intense presence, your almost unearthly defiance, and your eyes that seemed to burn with the fire of a creature that could never be tamed.

When he finally spoke to you, it was as if the air itself thickened with magic. “You're quite the anomaly” his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder. “You remind me of something… untamed, like a wild creature of the mountains.”

You weren't intimidated by his presence, although you were acutely aware of his power. “You've got a strange way of speaking, horn guy” you looked him up and down “Are you comparing me to some kind of beast?”

Malleus’ eyes glinted, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Perhaps. But is that such an insult, I wonder? I have always found strength in the wild, in the things that refuse to be controlled.”

You blinked, your guard momentarily dropping. “You think I'm wild, huh? Well, that's something we can agree on”

Malleus nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “You are strong. But even the wildest of creatures have their limits, don't they? Perhaps you have yet to meet someone who understands you, who can match your wild spirit.”

There was a challenge in his words, although it wasn't spoken with malice. Malleus was simply…curious. He could see that you weren't just a student who needed to be molded into something conventional. You were like him—fierce, untamed, and powerful. And that intrigued him.

You straightened, meeting his gaze head-on, daring him to push further. “Maybe I'll let you find out just how far I'll go. But don't think for a second you can tame me like the rest of your kind"

Malleus' smile widened slightly. “I don't believe I'd have the need to do such a thing. I simply wish to see how far your power will take you” his figure approaching, his eyes penetrating your gaze, his fangs approaching his smile. Charming was to say the least.

“You are more than a creature of rage, you have the potential for much more”