#and he needs to be told just how adored he is with zero prompting. i volunteer 🙈💖💖💖

[starleska]

Are you gonna give us that Jack Frost/Reader we know you wanna write?? 😆

oh god yes yes YES PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO 😳💖 there is an absolutely tragic lack of x Reader fanworks for this man, which is devastating given how much he craves attention...i think he needs a little love to warm him right up 😉

Jack Frost x Reader headcanons 💙❄️

❄️ when You first meet Jack, he flatters You like you're the only person in the world who matters. he presses earnest kisses to the backs of your palms and showers You with compliments. you're taken in by his glittering smile, and the ease with which Jack makes You feel ever so special. but with time, You notice Jack's long game. there's a shallow affect behind those attentive eyes which clues You in; he's not only always watching You for any glimmer of approval, but watching everyone else too, all of the time. every phrase is perfectly engineered to give him the response he wants, and what he wants is attention. so, You decide to turn the tables on him. You make it your life's goal to make Jack Frost melt. ❄️ when You confront Jack on his scheming behaviour, his persona cracks like ice. his smile drops instantly and he takes on a mocking, scathing tone. "You think you've figured it all out?" he scoffs. "Please. Your gullibility would give the April Fool a field day. Why don't you scootle along now, before you get yourself hurt?" but You see it: the hurt flickering behind those frost-blue eyes. You step closer to him, and don't miss the way he flinches. "Aren't you tired of all this, Jack?" You ask quietly. "Always calculating. Always trying to get on top. You're trying so hard to make people like you...you can't see it when they actually do." Jack's hands are ice-cold when You slip your fingers through his own. he blusters in protest, tripping over his words as he tries to formulate a witty retort...but a light dusting of pink blooms along his cheekbones.

❄️ sincere affection is a foreign notion to Jack, and he skitters around it like a deer on a frozen lake. years of hypervigilance and rejection have him distrustful of your motivations, even when You speak your mind. "Surely this is some elaborate trick," Jack tells You once afternoon, when the pair of you are bundled up together under one ultra-long, snowflake-patterned scarf. "I'm still waiting for the big reveal, and I'm sure it'll be a showstopper." yet you're used to the pitfalls of Jack's paranoid mind, and You ask him, "What if the big reveal is that I think you look really cute when you're flustered?" without waiting for an answer, You capture his lips in a kiss. Jack is immediately reactive and whines softly into you, but You slide your arms over his shoulders and lock your fingers behind his back: reassuring him. keeping him safe. telling him it's okay to be vulnerable here. ❄️ nothing could have prepared you for what Jack's real love looks like. remarkably, Jack is restrained when he's being insincere: the actual depths of adoration he has for You are astonishing. he's physically clingy: always having a hand rest on your shoulder, or brushing his thigh against yours under the table. when you're alone he loves to envelop You, whether that's by drawing You in for an impromptu hug or falling asleep cuddling You like you're a teddy bear. his kisses (frequent and soft) leave small trails of ice crystals along your bare skin, and he always grins when You shiver. "Oh dear, are you cold, darling?" Jack asks with a wink. "It would appear my efforts to warm you up have been in vain. However...there's no harm if I keep trying, is there~?" ❄️ although he's freezing cold in the extremities, Jack isn't frozen all the way through. a gentle warmth exudes from Jack's chest, and You often spend your evenings intertwined with your head resting there, listening to the curious flutter of his trapped, searing heart. You murmur gentle words of affirmation into his neck, and delight in how he keens beneath You. when You look up at him, You adore the way his eyes sparkle. Jack is beautiful in the way only a snowflake can be: wholly unique, with hidden complexities even a lifetime wouldn't allow You to observe. Jack is wonderful. and Jack is yours.

[crescenthistory]

hi angel!!!! absolutely adore your blog and especially the way you write for regulus 🥹🥹 makes my heart so happy, like that’s baby boy!!!! thank you so much for sharing with us!!! i have a prompt request but only if you feel so inclined!!! number d8 “where is she?" with regulus, pretty please, like maybe something happens to reader and he is the last to find out (busy w quidditch or prefer things) so when someone finally tracks him down being like your girl needs you, his composure is for once non existent and he is panicking!!!! ughhh hurt/comfort with reg is everything!!! anyway only if you feel my up to my love no pressure ever - love your blog regardless 💗💗💗

hi my love<33 this is hands down the sweetest request i have received, thank you so much for being so kind 🤍🤍 i genuinely appreciate your words so much! as for the request, i adore some hurt/comfort with reg, and this is an idea i've had for a while, so it was so fun to write

Prompt: D.8 "Where is she?"

Words: 6k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, severe injury (happens off screen, explained and treated on screen), lacerations, typical regulus anxiety (overworked), best friends to lovers, pomfrey being a badass, snape is a villain, animal abuse (technically), background marlene, rosekiller, etc.

It was common knowledge that Slytherin quidditch practice was never to be disturbed, especially this close to the final match of the season against Gryffindor.

This was Regulus’ first year as captain and he was determined for it to be written in the history books as a victorious one, to make himself deserving of the title. Playing opposite his brother and his best friends didn’t lessen the pressure much, either. 

He knew he had been pushing the team quite hard, but he also knew that if anyone could handle it, it was them. Evan and Barty funnelled all their chaotic energy into quidditch once they realised just how much it mattered for their mate, and Dorcas had just as much to gain from winning against Marlene as Regulus had against Sirius. Fenwick had had his skull bashed in by enough bludgers in his career to not be able to formulate any complaints, even if he had them. The rest of the team were relatively young players, a risk most others had chastised Regulus for taking, but one that was playing off beautifully – and with those rumours, they wanted to prove themselves, too. 

There really was little problem with this arrangement, he told himself, other than the fact that he was perhaps wearing himself a bit thin when balancing it all with his prefect duties and exams.

And, more importantly, missing you.

You had been the best friend he could have asked for during this hectic year of his, always standing by his side, just as much of a loyal team-player as those on his actual sports team. That unwavering dedication you had shown him over the years that taught him that maybe, just maybe, he was capable of being loved – and most definitely of loving, because Regulus would be damned if he didn’t admit that that was the only appropriate word for how he felt about you.

Not that he had told you that yet, though, and neither had you. It was never the right time, and you both knew, at least to some degree. For now, it was enough. You had each other, always, and it was enough. He told himself as much, at least.

Regulus was trying to zero his thoughts back on his team running through their plays off-broom on the ground, looking for any weakness in their formation, when the cardinal rule of not disturbing practice was broken.

“Black!” A voice shouted as it ran across the pitch from the school. 

Regulus squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the pestering fourth year away, one of those who just seemed to always be there, nameless and bothersome. It was to little avail, though, judging by the sounds of his heavy steps hitting the still somewhat moist dirt on the field.

“Black, I have to–”

“We are in the middle of a practice!” Regulus cut the kid off, letting his nerves get the better of him as he saw most of his players stop in the midst of what had been their best run-through so far. “Unless someone has died, it can wait.”

“But–”

“Has someone died?” Regulus had his hands on his hips, half aware that he looked way too much like his older brother as he regarded the student-shaped owl in front of him with derision. 

“No, but–”

“Are someone in the midst of dying? Like within the hour?”

“N– no.”

“Then you may leave.” The student looked thoroughly confused, clearly not having been properly warned by whoever sent him as a make-shift owl that this was the only response he would be getting from Regulus. He could vaguely hear you whispering poor boy in his mind, always advocating for Regulus’ softer side, but right now he pushed it away as he turned back to his teammates. “Whatever it is will still be there when we are finished up here.”

Regulus didn’t wait for him to go before he began to pretend he was air, attention fully on his team once more.

Barty snickered as he tried to lean his chin on Evan’s shoulder, only to have the taller boy fully shove him off. Regulus shook his head, ignoring the crestfallen student beside him as he tried to increase his energy levels back to where they needed to be.

“Okay, that last round was getting closer to where we want to be. Ready to take to the sky for the last few minutes?”

When he finally stepped foot inside the quidditch locker rooms, Regulus sped through his shower routine. He was eager to get out of there and back to the dorms quick enough to have sufficient time to spend with you before going to sleep. He had half a mind to ask you to sleep in his bed tonight, but he wondered if that might be pushing it since you just did that a few nights ago. Nothing ever happened, of course, you were just the best of friends – and even if you had been something more, it was hard for anything to happen with Evan and Barty in the same room.

You just brought him a sense of peace he found himself craving more day by day. He wished to squeeze out every ounce of it he possibly could.

His hair was still wet, bag thrown about as haphazardly over his shoulder as he could allow himself to without spiralling – which is to say, he still looked perfectly polished to anyone but him. He turned to give the team lingering behind an attempt at an emphatic great work today that ended up falling a bit short from his hoarse voice. Thankfully, everyone else seemed tired enough to accept it without reservation, and Regulus could exit the changing room before all but running towards the Slytherin dorms. 

On his way there, he passed through the Great Hall, attempting to slow his stride to look a bit more composed, but quite ready to throw all of it away for the night just to curl up with you.

“Re- Regulus?!”

Sirius’ incredulous voice sounded behind him, and though Regulus loved his brother dearly, he took a deep sigh at the disturbance, knowing that, with him, it would likely not be a short one.

“That would be me.” Regulus turned around with a sarcastic half-smile, only for it to waver when he saw the expression on Sirius’ face. 

There was an evident tension in his face when he looked Regulus up and down, as if trying to figure him out while a thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Sirius’ lips were pressed tight, as if holding back a severe frown and his eyes were decidedly clouded with worry.

“Reg, what are you doing here?” His voice conveyed more confusion than upset, but both were woven into his tone.

“I’m… on my way to Slytherin? We just finished practice.” 

It was as if Sirius found an answer to his confusion as his face settled into a form of defeat. “You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Regulus stared his brother down, heart speeding up in his chest, but he could feel it in his whole body. “What is it, Siri?”

“James sent someone to tell you,” Sirius says, speaking more to himself.

“Tell me what?” Regulus’ patience was worn thin by his pulse straining his skin.

“Uh, it’s Y/N.” Pangs shot through his body, pulling every vein taut. “She– she will be fine, don’t worry, but–”

“Where is she?”

Regulus struggled to make out where Sirius stood in front of him as the world seemed to tunnel around him and his mind was immediately elsewhere, immediately with his best girl, imagining any possible horror that might have overcome you. Had it not been for Sirius’ delivery of the news and the way he looked at Regulus, he might have felt more calm. But he had always known his big brother to be more composed than this.

“The infirmary–”

He didn’t need to hear more before he was running at full speed down the hallway.

Little to nothing registered with Regulus on the way to the infirmary, that he for the first time in his life realised was located painfully far away from the Great Hall. Illogical, given how many students go through there throughout their days. 

He felt lighter than ever as he was entirely certain he had never run this quickly in his life, simultaneously as every limb felt heavy with worry. 

She will be fine is only reassuring if he was concerned you had died – in every other scenario it is the worst thing to hear, because it confidently means you are not fine right now.

Regulus is half aware that he has run through two ghosts, into one student and past a professor – he thinks maybe Flitwick? – but he paid none of them any mind, willing to take the point deductions or even detentions, if only they don’t slow him down. He can deal with everything and anything else later. 

When he finally reached the door to the infirmary, it took everything in him to come to a halt. 

He all but crashed into the door, catching himself with one hand on the doorframe as he breathed heavy, giving himself but two seconds to collect himself, lest he be banned from the infirmary by life by Madam Pomfrey. That was not something he could afford right now.

Still heaving, he opened the door and took two steps inside – before his vision became entirely swamped by that very same woman, standing with her hands on her hips.

“Is she here?” He tried to get out before she could say anything.

“No visitors at the moment,” Madam Pomfrey said sternly.

“Please, is she here?” Regulus couldn’t even think to say your name, but the look on the matron’s face told him she knew.

“She is, and she is alright, but there will be no visitors at the moment.” Her voice was a bit softer now, but she was not relenting and she was not moving.

Regulus’ breath picked back up, and he didn’t register the tears that were forming in his eyes. A choked please was forming on his tongue when–

“Please.”

You beat him to it. Your meek voice sounded from a few curtains down behind Madam Pomfrey. Regulus didn’t hear the noise that escaped him when he heard the soft pain in your usually chipper voice, but the matron did. Still, it seemed to be on your account and not the lovestruck, fear-sickened boy in front of her, that she took a step to the side.

“Only you, and it must be brief.”

Her words were mostly caught by the air that Regulus left in his wake the moment she moved to the side, because as soon as he could he was by the curtain he had heard you speak from behind, ever so gently pulling it to the side.

“Oh, mon amour.”

The sight he was faced with both mended and broke his heart – because you were there, awake and already looking at him, but your forehead and right arms were bandaged and your face bore telltale signs of pain. He could see tear tracks down your delicate cheeks, mascara smudging just barely beneath your eyes. You looked happy to see him, he could see your chest heave a breath of relief, but that was about the only positive thing he could decipher in you at the moment.

At last, his movements were measured and careful again, but for once not for the sake of how he was perceived, but rather to not disturb the space around you, as if that could lessen your pain. He barely managed to close the curtain behind him with trembling hands, giving you a semblance of privacy, even in this infirmary that he had no idea hosted how many others.

There was enough space on the left side of the bed beside you for Regulus to take his rightful place by your side, as close as he dared. His eyes kept jumping all over your body and face, breath hitched.

Your name escaped his lips in a small breath as his eyes widely roamed your form.

He didn’t realise his hand was hovering between you before you reached up to him with your left hand and took it in yours. Your grip was weak and the tips of your fingers cold, but it was still the smooth skin he was used to feeling on his.

Upon your touch, he seemed to be brought back down to earth and the welling tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Oh, Reggie,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, I’m alright.”

“My poor love,” he whispered back, letting his free hand move up to lightly caress your cheek, brushing some damp hair away. It must have gotten wet when Pomfrey tended to whatever wound was bandaged on your upper forehead. “What happened to you, amour?”

Regulus often referred to you with terms of endearment, you knew you were each other’s person, but the absolute softness of them now broke your heart a little.

“It was…” you trailed off, wincing as you scrunched your brows in confusion and consequently pulled on your bandage. “It was an accident.” The sound that escaped you was almost a laugh, but it was too wet and strangled to truly be classified as such.

“What happened?” Regulus’ voice urged, more desperate than before. He held your hand tighter, bringing it closer to his chest, as if to protect it.

“We were helping Kettleburn – unwillingly mind you –”

“Who are we?” Regulus cuts you off, still seeming rather feverish in his desperation to know what was wrong. You squeezed his hand and smiled at him to calm him down. 

“An unfortunate bunch of us who happened to be enjoying the fresh air by the benches. Me, Lily, Marlene, Snape, Avery and some others we don’t really know too well, mostly fourth years.”

Regulus scowled at the mention of Snape and Avery, but nodded, as if encouraging you to continue.

“Kettleburn needed some help preparing bait. He believed there was a hippogriff in the Forbidden Forest that he wanted to draw out. It worked a bit too well, a bit too well.”

His brows scrunched at that. “But hippogriffs are mainly peaceful unless you disturb them?” Unease was growing in his stomach.

“Yes, that’s what I said as well,” you feel a bout of dizziness come over you, but try and speak through it. “We were down, probably a bit too close to the forest when it came out. I tried to push the bait towards it carefully, keeping my distance. It just wanted food, you know.”

“But?”

“But Snape and Avery freaked. When it took a step closer, just to eat – they let curses fly, kneejerk self defence reaction they said.”

Regulus had to be mindful to not hurt your hand as his fists clenched on reflex. He settled for holding the sheets beside him disturbingly hard instead – he had already pieced together what happened. “You were still in the line of fire,” he concluded, eyes darkening.

“Yes,” you whispered weakly. “It would have been fine, if it had only been a stupefy or something, but Snape shouted something else, some freak hex. It was like being slashed with a knife all over.”

Regulus’ breath hitched as he let his eyes travel from gauze to gauze. His fingers came up to linger near a particularly large bandage that travelled from your shoulder in under your hospital gown. “All over?” His voice was a mere whisper before he finally looked in your eyes again. He found them teary, and his heart clenched painfully.

“Yeah, I– The biggest one is across my stomach. Pomfrey has patched me up nicely, but it was, uh, it wasn’t good.”

He can’t fight the new tears that spill as he whispers my girl before carefully shuffling closer to you to give you a hug, or at least as close to one you could get right now. His cheek is pressed into yours, his hand on the back of your head, and you can hear him cry directly into your ear, drawing tears from you as well. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into you. “So sorry, amour.”

“Reggie, there was nothing you could do,” you try to look at him, but his grip on your head remains steadfast.

“No, I should have been there. I’m so sorry.” He presses a kiss to your upper cheek, and his lips are wet. “I should’ve been there.”

“Reg, there was no way anyone could have known.”

He pulls back slightly, looking you over to see if he was hurting you before settling in with his forehead against yours – making sure to avoid the wound in the top left. When his eyes look into yours, you feel a sense of calm finally wash over your body that had been riddled by the shock of being torn open. A grey safe haven.

“I’m sorry, amour.” He keeps saying it like a prayer.

You try to shake your head, but wince at the action. His hand immediately shoots up to your jaw, to still your head. Protecting you, even from yourself. “You’re not allowed to be sorry, Reg, you didn’t do anything. You can only feel sorry for me, which isn’t quite that hard. I look pathetic right now.”

Your half-hearted attempt at humour doesn’t seem to drag him from his despair as his eyes keep searching your face, flitting from the tears to the deviating makeup. His thumb, ever so carefully, drags under your eye to wipe away some of the mascara there. You lean into his touch.

“They tried to tell me, but I– I didn’t know, so I didn’t listen and–”

“You were at quidditch practice,” you cut him off. “Everyone knows you can’t be disturbed then.”

Regulus looked at you incredulously. “This is disturb-worthy, you – anything with you is always the biggest priority. I’m sorry.”

“One girl versus preparing for the match of your life? Hm, I think it’s good you weren’t distracted.” You are determined to lighten his mood, the sinch of his eyebrows and worry in his eyes were beginning to make you feel sick for him.

“But you’re my girl,” he says in a low voice, stressing the words as if to pour additional meaning. “You’re my best friend, my everything. Y/N, you are everything.”

You struggle to come up with a response to that. Any mask Regulus switches between is completely discarded in this small infirmary section with you. When he holds your face and looks at you, you know what it is.

Unable to speak over the lump in your throat, you just drag his face closer to press a sweet kiss to his cheek, as always.

Except this time, while your lips linger on his cheek, Regulus uses his hand still on your jaw to angle your face towards his. With your lips millimetres apart, he looks from them to your eyes, searching for something, and then back down. He whispers another soft everything before pressing his lips to yours.

For all the times you had thought of kissing Regulus, nothing compared. You never expected there to be salty from tears, you never imagined his scent in your nose to be swirled with the disinfectant covering everything around you – but he was right, it was everything. His lips were unbelievably soft against yours, even as he pushed himself even closer to you, as if he needed you underneath his skin, not just on top of it. The pinky underneath your jaw digs into your skin, and you can feel your pulse beat against his finger.

When Regulus pulls away, your mouths are still essentially connected, slightly parted, just breathing into each other. You open your eyes and find him looking at you with nothing short of love.

“I–”

“I love you.” You cut him off, smiling a bit as he half feigns indignance before it turns soft once more.

“I love you, belle fille.”

“I know.”

Finally, finally he gives you a genuine smile. It eases your nerves more than even his eyes could, and you feel yourself melting back into your pillow. Unfortunately, comfort makes you even more aware of the pain and soreness in your body, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, mostly to himself it seems.

“I won’t allow that.” You tug your intertwined hands closer to you, wanting to share the comfort with him. “I’m alright, Reggie.”

“You’re wounded and bandaged.”

“And I’m perfectly okay.”

He gives you an as if look, but it’s good enough for you, for now. Then his face twisted into something darker and you saw the same desperation from earlier bubbling to the surface.

“What happened to Snape? And Avery?” His hold on you is still soft and caring, but the rest of his body has grown stiff, mind racing with imagined visions of what went down and of what he would do with them in return.

“Nothing yet,” you said with a careful, measured voice. “Kettleburn wanted to ease the situation first, but since it was technically his fault for bringing us along unprompted, I’m not sure what would be done. Detention maybe?”

“Yeah, Kettleburn’s an idiot for that, but Snape was the one who used an unorthodox and probably dark hex. He has to be dealt with.”

Though you don’t condone how fast some of your friends resorted to revenge and violence, even you had to admit that the idea of Snape knowing magic like that didn’t sit right with you either. There was no situation you could imagine where a slasher spell like that would be moral in combat. 

“I’m sure they will deal with him tomorrow,” you settle on. “Tonight the main priority seemed to be making sure I don’t bleed out on the grounds.”

Regulus’ look was pained as he pressed his lips together. “How did you get in after that anyway?”

“I don’t remember too well.” You truly didn’t, and the flashes that went through your mind were not ones Regulus would be better off knowing about. “Kettleburn shushed the Hippogriff back into the forest – it thankfully didn’t get severely injured it seemed – while everyone else panicked. Lily and Marlene were the first ones by my side.”

You both smile absentmindedly at that. When you first befriended Lily through your study sessions at the library, Regulus had been unsure of how to approach your joint integration into his brother’s friend group, but the girls had turned out to be some of the best friends you could have asked for. 

“Oh!” you exclaim, almost straddling Regulus. “Almost forgot, but you’ll be happy to know that Marlene suckerpunched Snape before they brought me inside with a levitation spell. Pretty gnarly punch, too.”

Regulus’ smiled seemed to be less from gratification and more from endearment from you. “I think I’d like to see Snape get a little more than a punch for what he did to you. But that’s a great start, darling.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “It’s a start. And again, we can deal with all of that tomorrow. I don’t have the energy today.”

“No, no, you are the only priority right now, amour.” Any mirth slipped from his face as he studied you concernedly once more.

“I know you’re “alright”, but you’re not alright” he started. “Could you tell me where it hurt the most?” He looks over you again, as if he can map you out and fight your pain off, spot by spot.

“My stomach and chest got it worst,” you admit. “It’s growing more sore, but Madam said I could get more pain relief in just a little while.”

“Well, she also said I could only stay here for a short while,” he whispers conspiratorially, looking towards the curtain as if he expected it to be ripped back any minute. “Pretty sure we’re way past that.”

“Maybe she heard us crying like babies over a non-fatal injury and figured it was less of a hassle to leave us to it.” You squeeze Regulus’ thigh with a grin and he bites back a yelp.

“She would be wise to do so. Especially because there’s no bloody way I’m leaving.”

You don’t say much to that because you really, really don’t want him to either. You know you are fine, and for his sake you try and seem even more assured of it, but the white panic that soared through your veins those first few minutes is hard to shake. Even though you don’t want him to hold his absence against himself, you don’t like the thought of him leaving now that he was there.

“Has she said anything about a treatment plan? How long you’ll be here? She said you’re fine, so it shouldn’t be too long right?” Though Regulus looks at you as he asks his questions, you know he is already trying to piece together probable answers in his head.

“Most of our first conversation was her narrating what she was doing while I was moaning and not listening.” Your comment was off-handed, but Regulus seemed to wince at the image it painted in his head. “Sorry,” you mumbled bashfully, but he just gave you a smile.”

“Good thing I have the memory of an elephant, then.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice sounded just seconds before she ripped the curtain back and stepped into your little bubble. 

Regulus went straight into autopilot, rightening his posture and schooling his expression. You squeezed his hand tighter, so that he couldn’t pull away, but that had not even been any option in his mind. Pomfrey went through the station beside you at the speed of light, way too familiar and comfortable with these procedures.

“Miss L/N had 5 deep lacerations and several shallow ones,” she begins to recite and Regulus hangs onto every word. “The shallow wounds are almost entirely gone from the treatment already, but the more severe ones will need time to recover. She will have to stay in the infirmary overnight today and tomorrow for observation and continue to receive some medication. Among those are pain potions and salves for the wounds. Rebandage every 10 hours and apply new salves.”

“How will that affect her?” Regulus asked, probably pushing his luck with the matron.

“The pain potions will make her a bit slow and groggy, but she will still be awake. Though she should sleep.” At that she gives you a curt look over her shoulder. “The healing process for the wounds will likely be itchy and uncomfortable and she may develop a fever. We will pay particularly close attention to the stomach wounds in case she develops any infections there.”

“What are the symptoms of infections like that?”

You try and pat Regulus’ leg to say down, boy, but he doesn’t give you the time of day, instead focusing fully on any and all information the matron is willing to share with him. You had half a mind to joke that this was private medical information, but let it be.

Madam Pomfrey turns to Regulus at his fourth question, putting her hands on her hips as she measured him closely. It seemed like she decided on something and the next second she exited through the curtains again. You and Regulus barely had time to exchange a glance before she came back and threw a white coat at Regulus who catched it bewilderedly.

“Seems like I’ve got myself an assistant for the remainder of her stay, haven’t I, Mr. Black?”

A slow smile spreads across Regulus’ face before he hurries on the coat. “Yes, Madam.”

Pomfrey talks you – and now, Regulus – through the new pain potion she is about to give you, giving brief background on the ingredients, application and effect when the door to the infirmary slams open, decidedly louder than when Regulus entered earlier. Her eyes squeeze shut, as if pained by the disrespect and incredulity of students, but finished giving you the potion.

“That is no way to enter an infirmary, Mr. Crouch,” she says through half-gritted teeth as she works. She waves at Regulus to open the curtain to your bed, revealing Barty, Evan and Dorcas, all heaving as if they have been running too. “You seem to be particularly loved, Miss L/N. Please never get injured again, it disturbs my workspace.”

Your friends’ eyes are wide as they take in your form where you lay, still rather pathetically, in your bed. 

“Merlin’s tits, what happened?” Dorcas asks.

At the same time Barty’s gaze flits between you and Regulus. “Who?” he asks, while looking at you.

“I–” you start, but that was clearly the wrong answer because he then immediately turns to Regulus instead.

“Who?”

There is no hesitation in Regulus’ voice. “Snape.”

Barty’s face morphs from shock and concern into pure determination. He stalks over to you in three wide steps, pressing a quick kiss to the safe side of your forehead, whispering a quiet take care, Treasure, before turning around and dragging Evan out of the infirmary. The other boy’s jaw was ticked shut and went more than willingly.

Even you felt a bit bad for Snape in that moment.

Madam Pomfrey, however, only breathed a sigh of relief that they left so quickly.

Dorcas comes up between you and Regulus, sitting on the very edge of your bed. Pomfrey, with Regulus’ assistance return to the work on your bedside station, though his eyes are on you almost the whole time. He has that furrow between his brows that shows up whenever he focuses intently, and you are torn between wanting to kiss it and draw it.

“We met Marls and Lily in the hallway,” Dorcas explains. “They got halfway through their story before Junior took off with us on leash behind us.”

“Sounds like him,” you laugh, trying to hide how the rumble hurts you. “But really, I’m totally fine. Or, I’m relatively good, and will soon be alright.”

“Yeah, especially when you’ve got two nurses to tend to you,” Dorcas teases, casting Regulus a knowing sideways glance.

“Pardon you, Miss Meadows; I am a Healer.” 

You can’t help the snort that escapes you. Despite never wanting to return to this infirmary, you had grown quite fond of the Madam.

“My deepest apologies, Madam,” Dorcas offered with a gleam in her eyes. You could have sworn you saw Pomfrey smile ever so slightly.

“But yeah, Dorc, I’m well taken care of. I’ll be fine.”

“Firstly, just because you’re wounded does not mean you can get away with calling me that.” You laugh once more, happy to not be treated like a dying animal even in such a grave hour. “Secondly, I’m glad. You deserve it, and it was about damn time.”

You pretend to not understand what the last part referred to, but you knew she got you all figured out. You squeeze her leg in a sign of admiration and, perhaps, defeat.

“Thirdly,” Regulus interjects. “You need to either not make her laugh or leave.”

Pomfrey nodded emphatically. 

“Not my fault your girl just finds me absolutely hilarious, Black.” Dorcas winks at you.

“Speaking of someone’s girl,” you drawl, trying to even the playing field, which worked, if Dorcas’ light blush was anything to go off of. “Please tell Marlene I say thank you. I don’t think I got to in the whirl of everything and then everyone was thrown out.”

Dorcas’ smile softens. “I will, babe, but you don’t have to thank her. She’s still a bit worried though, so I’ll tell everyone you’re doing fine.”

“Thanks,” you whisper through a smile, accepting Dorcas’ half-hug before she slips out of the infirmary, which finally returns to its prior quietude.

“That’s enough visitors for today!” Pomfrey explains, clapping her hands together as she is done. “Only staff and patients for the rest of the night.” She shoots Regulus and his white coat a knowing glance.

“Does that mean I can sleep?” You don’t mean for your voice to sound so meek, but the pain potion is starting to work, and the more your body relaxes, the more exhausted you realise you are.

Regulus makes a soft cooing sign, coming back to sit on the side of your bed, taking your hand in his and drawing comforting circles on its back. “Yes, amour. We have prepared the station for when we have to wake you in a few hours for reapplication.”

You groan a bit at the thought of being woken, and both your matron and her assistant laugh a bit at you. 

“Better that than affection, Miss L/N.”

“Yes, of course,” you relent, letting out a heavy sigh. “Thank you. For all of it.”

Pomfrey merely nods before gathering her things and exiting into the rest of the infirmary, pulling your curtain shut behind you. You expect that is the closest she usually gets to a you’re welcome and you accept it heartily.

Regulus shifts into a more comfortable position beside you, back against your headboard, ensuring you are as comfortable and pain-free as possible. He brings your intertwined fingers up to his lips to press delicate butterfly kisses to them. The softness of it all makes you almost want to cry again, but you bite it back, purely because you can’t stand seeing Regulus cry again tonight, and you knew he would.

“Congratulations on your promotion.” Your tire does not hide the coyness of your tone and he smiles fondly at you.

“Thank you. Think she figured it was easier that way – and I have always been a top student.”

“Yeah, yeah, you and your OWLs.” You turn your head more towards him, smiling. “Such a nerd.”

“I reckon you like that about me.”

“I reckon the same.”

You lean forward and he meets you halfway for a slow kiss. The casualness of it makes it feel all the more important, especially when the past few hours of your life has been anything but.

He leans his head onto yours, drawing you as close as he can with your current circumstances.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus whispers again and you shake your head beneath his. Before you can tell him no, he continues. “Not just for what happened to you or not being there. Just, I don’t know. Being slow.”

“Didn’t we just agree you were bright?” you tease, but when you turn to see the sincerity in his eyes, you soften. “It’s okay, Regulus. We were both slow.”

Neither of you feel compelled to delve into the details of it, and it makes you feel more at ease. Even with everything, this was just how it was supposed to be.

“I’m glad I have you.” It is the best way to summarise it; it was enough. He smiles warmly at you.

“And I you.” 

You ignore the strain of some of your bandages as you lean closer to kiss him again, where he meets you enthusiastically – it was worth it.

“Go to sleep now, amour. I’ll be here to ease you awake when the time comes. I’ll always be here.”

And he was.

[daydreamgoddess14]

I just wanted to say I absolutely adore your writing for River and thank you so much for providing us all with much needed River content!!

If you’re happy taking nsfw requests, I was wondering if you’d be up for writing a nsfw River x female!reader insert, where after a really shitty day, River wants to help make his girl feel good/take her mind off her day, by spending the evening going down on her? I mean… have you seen the guy’s mouth?! He’s always doing something with his tongue and I just think he’d look so pretty looking up at you from between your thighs… 🫣

If prompts would help… “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” “I can never seem to get enough of you.” and “that's it, babygirl.”

Zero pressure to do this btw!! I completely understand if isn’t something you’d want to write!

Bad Day

Phewwww, did someone turn up the heat? 🔥

I loved this ask sooo much, you all probably heard my furious tippy tapping as I immediately opened a new doc to write this 😅

I hope I've done your request justice, lovely Anon! Thank you so much for asking me, I'm so honoured 🥰

As above - River Cartwright x F!Reader Insert (no use of y/n, l/n) plenty of plenty of sexy fun - enjoy!

If you had to look at another spreadsheet, your brain would explode. You were certain of it. 

The poor cleaner. 

She wasn't cut out for bits of skull and pulpy brain matter. 

The pinchy, spiking shards of a headache were forming behind your eyes, you knew it was time to go home (even if it wasn't quite). The office was deathly quiet, everyone choosing to work from home on a Friday in order to enjoy their weekend just that little bit sooner. 

No one raised an objection when you started packing up. 

Close the laptop, wash your mug, pop to the loo, pack your stuff. 

The flurry of messages on your phone suggest River's not had a taxing afternoon, while your lack of response has him correctly guessing that it's been a shitty day. 

You fire off a quick on my way home message and drop your phone into the top of your bag, the glare isn't helping the headache.

The tube is typical Friday levels of horrific. Tourists descending by the train load, ready for a weekend of West End shows and sightseeing. 

The train lurching from side to side makes you queasy and in hindsight, you definitely should have drunk more water throughout the day. 

Climbing the stairs to the flat feels like climbing a mountain. 

God, you hope it's River's turn to cook. 

If it's not, you're getting straight on the phone to Loretta at the Italian round the corner.

The narrow hallway is pitch black when you push open the door, you sound like a bull in an antique shop trying to squeeze yourself, your laptop bag, handbag and coat through the door.

“Ugh, fucks sake,” you dump everything on the floor as soon as you're clear of the hall. “River?”

“In here,” you're about to follow the sound of his voice to the open plan kitchen living area when you spot the first candle, then the second.

There's a path of them lighting the way. 

Your heels click lightly on the hardwood floor as you approach. 

He's waiting - with a glass of wine - and after the day you've had, you could cry. 

He must see the wobble of your bottom lip because he puts the glass down and slips an arm around your waist. 

His large hand is flat on the small of your back as he pulls you towards him. 

“What happened?” He asks softly, his lips on your hairline. 

“Just too many meetings, too much going on. My head is pounding.” You sigh. It all seems fairly unimportant now that it's over. Fuss over nothing. River's hand travels down over the curve of your ass, poured into the tight pencil skirt. He squeezes lightly. 

“No dress down day for you. Have I told you how much I love this skirt?” The blush creeps from your cheeks down into the neckline of your shirt. 

The hard edge of the bad day is softening slowly. 

He offers his hand, knowing your next request like clockwork. You allow him to keep you steady while you kick off your heels, banishing them out of your sight. 

“Much better,” you murmur. 

The height difference is much greater now, it means you can bury your face into his chest.

The cotton of his t-shirt is warm and soft against your skin and his long arms wrap around you. 

You breathe in deeply. 

“I probably smell like Lamb's cigarette smoke.” You shake your head against him

“You smell like you. Like home.” You loosen your arms and look up at him. “You hungry? I'll call Lorie and get some pasta?” In the candlelight, there's a twinkle in his eye. 

“I'm definitely hungry, babe, but -”

“Not pasta? How about one of those giant calzones?” You go to move out of his arms but they tighten around you, keeping you close to him.

“Still not what I'm thinking,” his fingertips go to the high waist of your skirt, finding the hidden zip and sliding it down. 

While you're distracted by his hands, his mouth is finally on yours and he's walking you backwards towards the bedroom.

When the skirt slips to the floor, River's careful to guide you so you don't trip over it. 

“What're you up to, Cartwright?” You ask quietly, not moving your lips from his.

“Just trying to improve your shitty day.” His nose brushes against yours. 

“Haven't you had a rubbish one too?” You query, the backs of your knees bumping against the edge of the bed. He shrugs.

“I get to improve my day as well then, don't I?” 

With the lightest of pushes against your hip, you drop down onto the bed. 

“Arms up.” He instructs, pulling your blouse over your head. “And budge up a bit,” you shuffle obligingly up the bed and lie back contentedly against the heap of pillows.

“Don’t forget the candles,” you murmur as you feel his knee dip the bed between your own. His laugh makes you smile. “I’m serious, River. Do not burn down our flat.” He pinches his tongue between his teeth.

“Yeah ok. Make yourself comfortable,” he warns as he hops back off the bed.

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’m going to keep you there all night?” He poses it as a question but the smirk on his face suggests it’s definitely not up for negotiation.

“Oh,” the blush returns. 

He never fails to knock you off guard.

The candles, the adoration. 

It took a little while for him to grasp that you loved him, that you wanted to show him how loved he was.

Once it clicked with him though, there was no stopping him. 

He returns quickly, with a handful of the candles which he dots around the room, and your wine. He must have been home much earlier than you, he’s already dressed down in soft gym shorts and a plain t-shirt. His hair ruffled from the shower and still a little damp.

“Now that we’ve established I’m not going to burn the flat down,”

“It was kind of a priority.” You counter. 

His knee has found the gap between yours and he’s crawling up the bed to you. 

A predator trapping his prey. Though predator would not be the word you’d use to describe him at all currently. 

“Agreed,” he told you sincerely. “So now that’s sorted,” his hand snakes behind your back to unclasp your bra, “you should know that I intend to fully take your mind off your shitty day.” The headache is duller now, just being around him is working wonders in soothing you. 

“How do you propose to do that then?” You tease playfully.

He sits back on his heels, pulling the straps of your bra down your arms. 

With it discarded, he traps you again with one arm either side of your waist and his hands pinned to the bed. 

He leans into you, gazing intently at your tired eyes before kissing you gently.

“Just let me take care of you.” You melt into the kiss, your arms coming up to loop around his neck, trying to pull him down on top of you. 

He resists, keeping his weight on his hands which haven’t left the bed. 

The only move he makes is to run a finger down the side of your breast to your waist, tickling you into letting go of him. With a little huff, you acquiesce. 

He clearly has intentions and won’t be swayed. 

“Good girl.” He chuckles. Your thighs try to press together at the praise but his knee is in the way and feeling your legs tighten against him only makes him laugh more. 

He nudges your knees further apart and gets comfortable pressing firm kisses in a line from your throat down between your breasts.

“River -” you plead.

“Yes, love?” He looks up from your body, his annoyingly gorgeous smile perfectly framed by your pebbled nipples. “Oh,” they seem to distract him from what you were about to say and when he rolls his tongue around one of them, you forget what you were about to say. 

He doesn’t let you gather your thoughts, just continues to move down your body until he’s level with your plain black knickers. “You were saying?” He stops just as your back arches off the bed in an attempt to get closer to him.

“No idea. Please -” you whine, wiggling just a little.

“Please?” His breath ghosts over your core and it makes your cunt ache with wanting. “I think you can do better than that,” he nudges his nose against you, the cotton of your knickers providing the tiniest amount of friction on your clit.

“Ohh, River -”

“Yes, love?” 

“I need -” you breathe, wiggling a little more brazenly. 

He rests his chin on your thigh and looks up at you.

“Go on?” He asks with a wicked grin, earning him a glare from you in response.

“I want you.”

“I know, babe.” 

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your knickers and tugs at them slowly. 

They slip down, millimeter by millimeter. 

“Tell me what you want?” 

Your patience may be wearing thin, but he’s enjoying every second of stringing you along. 

True to his word you’ve completely forgotten about your headache and your bad day. 

“I can never seem to get enough of you,” he tells you, his eyes not leaving yours. 

His warm hand pulls your underwear further down and guides your legs out of them. He’s managed to remove every item of your clothing without losing a single piece of his own. 

Watching you, the point of his tongue traces a circle around your throbbing clit. 

He hooks an arm over your thigh to hold you close to him.

“River… River please -” you sigh, desperate for more of his touch.

“Please what, babe?” If you were in any position to argue, you still probably wouldn’t. 

Impatient or not, he knows what he’s doing to you, and he knows how much you love it.

“God, River. I’ll kill you.”

“Nah, you won’t,” he sniggers. “I’ve got all night, you know? Don’t rush on my account.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I know I can get you to beg, however long it takes.”

“You’re cruel.”

“That’s a bit harsh. Anyway, you’re distracting me, I’ve got something very important going on here,” without further warning, he presses the flat of his tongue against your slit and glides a path through your folds. 

“Fuck, River!” You shudder against him, “please, please -” he doesn’t respond, far too busy watching you writhe and arch under his grip as he fucks you with his tongue. 

When you finally open your eyes again, you meet his gaze and you can tell he’s not as unaffected as he makes out to be. You hold eye contact while you grind against his mouth, his own hips rutting into the bed in response as he hungrily devours you. 

You can’t hold out any longer, you’ll happily beg for more if that’s what he wants from you. 

“God, please River, please. I need you to fuck me,” 

He grins against you. “I told you you’d eventually start begging.” He buries his face back into your dripping cunt, building you up again until your legs shake and you’re pushed, wailing, over the edge.

“Oh, god -”

“That’s it, baby. Another.” It’s not a question, it’s a demand. 

Your hands tangle in his hair as he goes back to your overstimulated, swollen clit and wraps his lips around it, sucking gently. 

It’s enough to have you seeing stars. 

This time, he works two fingers inside you, pumping them languidly and letting them brush against your g-spot. So close to your first orgasm, the second doesn’t take long to approach.

“You’ve got it babe, let me make you feel good,” he coaches you softly as your thighs clamp around his hand. You’ve lost all ability to speak, his name tumbles from your lips in snatches and gasps as the walls of your cunt constrict around his long fingers. He lets you down gently, withdrawing his hand and mouth slowly when you finally unclench your legs. 

“That’s my girl,” he mutters, leaving as many kisses on the way back up the length of your body as he did on the way down. “You ok?” he asks, coming to lay next to you. 

You can feel the length of him pressed against your hip and, despite being exhausted, the thought of having his cock split you open is appealing. 

You shake your head a little, a hand shyly covering your eyes. “Don’t know,” you manage to croak.

“How’s the headache?” He kisses your temple.

“Gone,” you move your hand, not wanting to hide from him. “Thank you,” you whisper with a small grin.

“Anything for you.” He stretches his long body out, his own arousal still evident.

“Anything?” You ask, palming his hard cock through his shorts.

“And here I thought you’d have no energy left,” he groaned, rocking into your hand.  

“I can never seem to get enough of you,” you mimic his earlier words and roll onto him, up on to your knees. 

Your still soaked pussy leaves a damp patch on his shorts and the heat radiates from your core. 

You tug his shorts down and the length of him springs free. 

You mouth waters, and though you’d love to feel the weight of him on your tongue, you need him to fill you up. 

You line up against him, spread your knees wide and sink down onto him.

“Fucking hell, River,” your head tips back as your tight, hot cunt stretches around him.

“Fuck,” he bucks up into you, making you gasp. “When I die…”

“Shut up,” you laugh, leaning down to kiss him. You still taste yourself on his tongue and the flashback it triggers makes you grind down onto his cock. “Silly boy.”

“I’m serious, when I go, this is what I’ll be thinking about.” He sits up, filling you even more deeply. You pull his t-shirt off him and he holds you tightly against him. With no space between your bodies, the friction is divine. 

He doesn’t give you space to ride him but rolling your hips against him feels much closer to what you both need anyway. 

He rests his forehead against yours, his piercing blue eyes filled with love. You cup his cheek and kiss him.

“Come for me, love,” you whisper, feeling the muscles in his back tense. The hands that grip your hips hard enough to leave a mark move, and he brings his thumb to your mouth. You take it between your lips, leaving a trail of saliva behind when he takes it back and presses it to your clit.

“Not without you,” he rasps. You rock desperately into him, your own orgasm triggering as you feel him emptying into you. You slump against him, amazed he still has the strength to hold you both up. He doesn’t for long and pulls you down on top of him.

“Holy shit, River.” You pant breathlessly.

“You need talk.” 

You curl against him, the candlelight fading. Sleep is threatening to take you, but is interrupted by your rumbling stomach. 

“We should get some food.” You mutter sleepily into his chest. You try to snuggle in closer but he moves away, leaving you frowning. “Where’re you going?” He pulls on his t-shirt and shorts as the doorbell rings.

“Food. I called Loretta before you got home, asked her to send something over for about 8ish.” 

You stare after him as he leaves you with a quick wink. 

The boy really did know how to fix a bad day.

[thatanimewriter]

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, IT HURTS.

➳ request: Can you write a male (or gn if you feel more comfortable with that) reader x Ruby Rose, Izuku Midoriya, Arven, and Penny (all seperately) hcs/fic with an established relationship and the prompt "I love you so much it hurts". Thx.

➳ character/s: ruby rose, midoriya izuku, arven, penny

➳ warnings: swearing, reader is picked up (ruby), mentions of injury (midoriya)

➳ notes: thank you for the request for my boiiiii

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄.

probably screams

bear hugs you and spins you around

thinks you're adorable

peppering your faces in kisses

did i mention she's bear hugging you??

kinda hard to breathe while she's fawning over how cute you are

might ask where it hurts as a joke, pretending to be a certified doctor when the both of you know she could never-

will probably say it back as well but not immediately after

she's gonna wait until you forget you said it and then hit you with it when you least expect it

because this is payback for surprising her

at least you know you both get to suffer instead of just one of you being in pain

if you're gonna hurt because of how much you love her, you're taking her down with you :))

── 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔.

profusely blushing

stuttering

won't speak to you for the rest of the day without wanting to hug you

or maybe kiss you

probably both

don't let him kiss you within the first week of telling him this, because he'll just be kissing you all day

you won't leave his bed ever because he's clinging to you so much

tons of cuddles that you will physically be in pain because you haven't changed position for 5 hours

soon after you told him that, you actually got pretty badly injured in a battle trying to save him from a blow

and he was very upset with you for this >:((

"when you said you loved me so much it hurt, this wasn't what i had in mind-"

it's all good, he'd do the same for you as well if he could

── 𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐍

cries

just starts sobbing

he's havin a hard time in life, just give him cuddles n let him cry it out

you get a lifetime of subway sandwiches now because this is forever >:((

you're not getting out of this relationship EVER

whatever you've got going on needs to be put on hold because he wants to cuddle with you, mabosstiff, your miraidon/koraidon and him

DOG PILE

but sorta literal??

he will make your miraidon/koraidon a fucking sandwich-

arven for sure knows all your food preferences so you're guaranteed a perfect sandwich

and his hand in marriage

he is even more vocal and open about his love for you since this moment

── 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘

stares at you blankly

very awkward

no clue what to say to that

what is love?? (baby don't hurt me)

probably just responds with

"...ok then."

because she doesn't know how to respond to such an out of pocket and unfamiliar statement

she'll show you that she loves you just as much eventually

but you'll have to wait until she's done overthinking your comment and also how she lets you know she feels the same

you've put her in a weird position and jokingly she's commented on how loving you puts her in immense amount of pain

it's all mental and it's all anxiety related, nothing to do with you

SHE LOVES YOU I PROMISE BUT WE SAW HER ROASTING ARVEN IN AREA ZERO SHE'S HAVING TROUBLE SHOWING IT-

[betweenthings2]

¹²⁾ bail money 🫣

Thank you for the ask!! The February prompts are here and March prompts will be up on the first =)

"Are you leaving me?" Matty asks from the doorway of the bedroom. George is still in bed, but Matty can tell he's awake.

George sits up to ask, "What?"

"Are you leaving me?"

"Why do you think I'm leaving you?"

Matty's quiet for a moment. George is deflecting and that means he must be planning on leaving because he has his secret bank account and at this point, almost all of their accounts are joint accounts and George knows about everything that's in only Matty's name so why doesn't Matty know about everything that's in only George's name?

"You're leaving me aren't you?" Matty continues. "What did I do? I'm sorry for whatever I did. I'll fix it, whatever I did, I'll be better, I'll-"

"I'm not leaving you, Matty," George interrupts. "You haven't done anything and I'm not going anywhere. What's goin' on?"

"Are you lying to me so I'll calm down? Am I going to be served with divorce papers next time you're out?" Matty asks.

"I'm not lying to you and I certainly don't want a divorce."

"That's what you would say if you were lying to me," Matty says, but he's closer to tears than yelling now.

"I'm not lying and I'm not leaving you, Matthew," George repeats, "but you've gotta tell me what you're upset about before I can explain."

Matty sniffs, then starts, "I woke up early and I didn't want to bother you so I got up and the lawyers emailed 'cause they want copies of contracts or something and I don't think I have it, but I figured you'd have it, so I was looking and I, uh, I found your secret bank account and you know about everything that's only in my name and if you don't, well, I don't have a secret bank account just sitting with that much money."

"Oh, um, ok," George pauses, "come here."

"Why?"

"You're gonna cry," is George's answer.

"So it is bad."

"Not the way you're thinking. Just, c'mere."

So Matty goes and climbs back into his side of the bed, but he doesn't get close to George as he'd like, just sits there, waiting.

"In your defense, you weren't really supposed to knows that account is there," George concedes, "but I wasn't trying to keep things from you and I'm not just sneaking things away. When things started to get bad and we were spending so much time in the US, Ross and Hann and I decided that there was a," he pauses, "non-zero chance, that was Hann's phrasing, a non-zero chance, that you could get arrested and we'd have to bail you out."

"So that's-"

"It was bail money," George admits. "I wasn't about to leave you in jail if you did get arrested, and I had to feel like there was something I could do if you needed it. What's in that account, it isn't all mine. Some of it came from Ross, some from Hann, we just figured that putting it in my name was as good a choice as any, and I've been meaning to close it."

Matty sniffs again and wipes his eyes. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. 

"'s ok," George offers. "I probably shoulda told you. I thought you might be a little offended."

"'m sorry I made you think you'd have to bail me outta jail. And that," Matty pauses to sniffle, "that I was upset. I don't really think you're going to leave, I just panicked."

"I know," George agrees, reaching out to wipe a stray tear from Matty's cheek. "'s alright, though. We're ok, I promise."

Matty leans into George's touch without thinking about it and mumbles, "I don’t know why I always assume the worst. I'm sorry. 'm sorry I'm scared about everything. I'm sorry. I don't think you're leaving and you haven't done anything to make me think that you're leaving, I'm just," he pauses, "I'm me and you're you and I'm always afraid that I'm not enough."

"Matty, love," George murmurs, "how on Earth do you get to that?"

Matty shrugs.

"Sweetheart," George sighs. "I adore you."

"Yeah, but 'm mental."

"And I love you. I've loved you for ten years. That's not going to change."

"'m sorry," Matty repeats.

"'s ok," George promises. "We're ok, love."

Matty moves closer to George, wrapping arms around him and resting his head against George's chest to repeat, "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."

"'s ok," George says again, rubbing Matty's back. "We're ok."

[starlostastronaut]

DAY 08 | GOT NO REGRETS

PAIRING: seo changbin x reader

GENRE: fluff, crack

WC: 0.68k

CW: teri trying to be funny again

PROMPT: stealing his clothes

i think this is the shortest one yet, but i literally had zero ideas. also i wrote it with reader being the same as in the last oneshot, because it seemed funnier that way. like at some point they started dating and this is how it looks like lol. anyway i hope you enjoy <3

title from i ain't worried - one republic

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"Yah, have you seen my gym hoodie?” Changbin's voice rang through the rooms as he shouted from your bedroom. You were all the way across the apartment in the kitchen, busy with making coffee. “No!” you yelled back and placed one of the cups you made on the counter. You knew Changbin would appreciate it when he came by the kitchen to get some kind of breakfast before going to the gym. 

You headed to the living room with the other cup in your hands, enjoying the warmth emanating from it. It was an early winter morning, which meant that the apartment was still a bit cold and it would take some time to heat up. But Changbin wanted to go to the gym early, and despite his best efforts, he still woke you up. Upon having decided it's not worth going to sleep for the extra hour before you have to get ready for work, you got up and began helping him get ready for the gym. That meant only making the coffee, because Changbin was a big boy who could get ready on his own.

Carefully, as to not spill even a drop of your precious coffee, you sat down on the couch and tucked your legs underneath you. While warming your hands on the cup of coffee and also waiting for it to be a drinkable temperature, you watched the chaos of Changbin getting ready with a smirk on your face.

There was an open bag on the floor with about half of his gym stuff in it, and the rest was scattered everywhere in the line of sight. Changbin suddenly emerged from the bathroom, dressed in matching black sweatpants and a tank top. As he walked past you, your eyes followed him. You were never one to pass up an opportunity to ogle at his arms, not feeling even a slight bit of shame. 

Just as he was about to disappear into another room, Changbin abruptly stopped, walked a few steps back, and looked at you. He raised his eyebrow, and his eyes went over your whole figure, which was drowning in a dark blue hoodie. You gave him your best innocent smile. “What? It's warm and comfortable,” you shrugged and took a sip of your coffee. 

Changbin sighed. “But I need it for the gym,” he said, standing in front of you with his hands crossed over his chest. He tried giving you the “I'm the boss here” look, but all it did was make you laugh so much that you almost spilled the coffee all over yourself.

“I'm sorry, Binnie, but I can't take you seriously when you look like that,” you said in between giggles. You saw the intention behind his attitude; nonetheless, he looked more like an angry Pomeranian puppy. Just so adorable. You laughing only made him angrier, but you could see he was fighting for his life to keep the facade up a little longer. He once told you that your laugh makes him laugh too. And you would never miss a chance to make him laugh. And if the bonus was also making fun of him... It was all out of love, of course. He teased you just as much.

“Seems like you'll need to take a different one.” You said it as if it were already decided.

“Or you could get up and wear something else,” Changbin countered. "Preferably from your own closet."

You winked at him. “Don't pretend you don't love seeing me in your clothes, Binnie.”

Knowing he had lost this argument, he went back to the bedroom. When he came back, he was holding another one of his hoodies, this one in a light shade of grey. Immediately realizing what his idea was, you put your coffee aside and raised both of your arms. Changbin sighed, but helped you take off his gym hoodie and replace it with the one he brought. You could swear you heard him mutter something along the lines of “Seriously? You big baby.” but you decided to let it slide this time.

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[basilly]

i love you

sypnopsis: the different ways they say "i love you"

includes: tsukkishima, atsumu, akaashi, osamu, & kita

warnings: wc 865, swearing, no pronouns mentioned

creds to @sixosix for these prompts

tsukishima kei | “you're a dumbass"

now who would he be if he just outright said "i love you"? he shows his affection through relentless teasing- all out of love though.

"kei... i accidentally ran into the table." "what-"

you rubbed your hip, in attempt to soothe the pain. tsukishima stared at you in disbelief.

"it's?? a massive table y/n" "okay and i have ZERO self awareness" "were you looking at your phone?" "... maybe.... look i was listening to that song you sent me-"

tsukishima starts chuckling before wrapping his arms around you. a small yet fond smile grows on his face.

"you're a dumbass"

miya atsumu | “you could punch me in the face and i would still want you ngl.”

atsumu gets under your skin very often- he has a talent for doing so. but you can't help but adore and love him, he's your precious boyfriend.

you rubbed your temples, trying to register what atsumu was saying. you thought he had been trying to tell you something miniscule.

"'sumu, pause. what are you rambling about?" "i just- i lost the bracelet you gave me and i tried to find it all day, and i thought you'd be mad at me and-"

you almost frowned at the way he was so scared to tell you he lost the bracelet you gave him- which, was like four years ago. you were surprised he had kept it this long.

"oh 'sumu, you should've told me. it's okay, honestly we've had them for so long we should probably get new ones." ".. you're not mad? your not going to like- smack my head?"

you cup his cheeks, placing a small kiss on his nose.

"of course not." "okay- but for the record, you could punch me in the face and i could still want you."

akaashi keiji | “i trust you. it’s okay.”

akaashi takes special care for his things. they may be well worn, but he magically keeps them in good condition. he will always let you borrow his things, but you do try to keep it exactly how you took it.

"are you sure keiji?"

you carefully caressed a gently worn book in your hands. it was his favorite book- you never got the chance to read it with everything in your life going on, but your schedule was finally calming down.

you were a little worried when he offered it for you to borrow. you already decided you're not going to let any liquids near it and keep it in a plastic bag. whenever you could.

to akaashi, he would let you borrow everything from him- no matter what is was. he placed his hands over yours and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before looking you in the eye.

"i trust you, it's okay. you can borrow whatever you need from me anytime."

miya osamu | “hey…” [hesitates] “be safe, alright?”

osamu is a worrier, an overthinker. he's cautious when you go out at night alone- he doesn't want you to be in a dangerous situation. but as simply best friends, he is in no place to intrude on your decisions.

"okay- i'll be back in a little bit, just heading to the convenience store." "what? this late?"

he sat back against the couch cushions, reading up on a new cookbook. he had come over again for your weekly movie night but the movie was long over by now. turning his attention to you, he took in your appearance once more.

seeing you- in a comfortable setting, full of domesticity, made his heart ache. he thought of the many times he could have confessed, but he wouldn't ruin anything you had to take the risk.

thus, his "i love you"'s are hidden behind words, actions, and gifts. not that you would ever notice, he hopes.

“hey…” [hesitates] “be safe, alright?”

for now he would hide, thinking of how he's too much of a coward.

kita shinsuke | “this—” [points at their chest] “—this belongs to you. always.”

he never hid his feelings to you- always straightforward, to the point your legs almost gave out. he never failed to make your face feel hot, ears almost catching fire out of embarassment.

"are you sure you don't want to come?" "it's atsumu's bachelor party! i couldn't"

you sat on the bed, watching kita button up his shirt. atsumu had planned to take his groomsmen to a nearby club- his fiance had immediately shut down the idea of a strip club (which you were glad for). fiddling with your fingers, you couldn't help but sit there anxiously.

"i can just stay home if you don't like the idea of me going."

you sigh before meeting his eye.

"no- it's okay, really."

a moment of silence passed before you spoke up again, timidly.

".. but what if a really pretty girl came up to you?"

kita almost laughed out loud, pausing from finishing up his tie to walk over to you. kneeling in front of you, he took your hands in his.

"y/n. this- "

he gentured to his chest, right at his heart.

"-- belongs to you. always. and this-"

he taps your engagement ring.

"solidifies it."

you laugh out of embarassment, smooshing your face in his neck.

"okayokay."

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

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

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

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

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

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

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

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

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

[yellowsuitcase]

Pansy’s Plot // Draco Malfoy

Request: hi there!! I just wanted to say i absolutely adore your writing, and was wondering if you could write something where the reader and draco are dating but pansy is jealous so she lies and makes draco think you cheated on him but in actual fact you didnt and it’s just super angsty and then fluffy. The prompts i chose were 94, 85, 55, 14, 1 and 34 of course i don’t mind at all if you don’t want to use them or leave a few out :)

A/N: Hello! Sorry this took so long to get written, but I wanted to make sure it was good so I took my time. Also, my arthritis was making writing a very painful process, with that being said, I likely won’t post anything else this week until the weekend because I need to rest my hand. But I hope you enjoy this and to the person who requested, I hope it’s everything you wanted! Side note, I did change some of the prompts to fit the story and I didn’t use 55.

Summary: Pansy tricks Draco into believing his girlfriend (Y/N) cheated on him with Blaise. Angst and fluff follow.

Warning(s): Swearing, physical beating up/hitting, non-consensual kissing/touching

Word Count: 4.6k

Prompts (list): 1, 14, 34, 85, 99

Y/N trudged into the Great Hall, looking miserable. She’d just had the worst potions class of her life. Snape had been teaching them how to make a memory potion, but she had mistakenly added the powdered sage before the stewed mandrake, causing the brew to bubble violently and splatter her Slytherin robes with putrid yellow liquid. It didn’t help that along with having unflattering stains, she now smelled like rotten roses. 

As she dragged herself to the Slytherin table, she felt stares on the back of her head. She rolled her eyes and positioned her chin over her shoulder, instantly zeroing in on the Ravenclaw boy who was pointing his thumb at her and laughing with his mates. With a discreet flick of her fir wood wand, Y/N sent the boy’s noodles flying onto his face with a loud splat. She smirked to herself while tucking her wand back into her pocket. She continued walking and took her place at the table next to her boyfriend. 

“Hello, Draco,” she said sweetly as she plopped down onto the bench. Her boyfriend looked up from his meal.

“Bloody hell, Y/N. Where have you been? And what happened to you?” he asked, his face scrunching up in disgust. It took everything in his willpower not to slide away from his potion covered girlfriend.

“Sorry, I’m a bit late. I fucked up in potions. Don’t worry, though, I’ll get cleaned up after I have my lunch. Besides, I hardly see you anymore with O.W.Ls coming up. I didn’t want to skip out on you,” she explained, shifting her gaze from the food in front of her to Draco's distasteful looking face. 

“What, Malfoy? You don’t like the smell of a failed memory potion?” she questioned while playfully leaning closer to him. Draco couldn’t take it anymore; he scrambled to scoot away from her. This made Y/N begin to giggle. She pushed her head behind her ear and batted her eyelids mockingly. 

“Why won’t you give me a kiss, love?” she asked with pouty lips, her hands making grabbing motions at the blonde boy. He opened his mouth to speak but was promptly interrupted by a snooty voice from across the table. 

“Perhaps it’s because you smell worse than a dirty house-elf, Y/N,” sneered Pansy Parkinson, a dark-haired Slytherin girl who was particularly nasty. Draco watched as Y/N’s back straightened, and her angry eyes flickered to the hard-faced girl. He knew this look well, considering she’d given it to him quite a few times throughout their two-year relationship. If it had been anyone else receiving Y/N’s glare, he might’ve felt a bit scared for them. But this was Pansy, and not many were fond of her.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Parkinson. But please, by all means, let’s hear your thoughts. Frankly, I didn’t think you had any up in that empty head of yours,” Y/N retorted, her voice calm and collected. Pansy’s face went redder than a tomato. She angrily stood up from her seat, leaving her untouched sandwich sitting on the table as she stormed out of the hall, her hair swishing behind her.

Y/N scoffed. “What a wanker. Honestly, hasn’t she got anything better to do?” she questioned, voicing her irritation. Draco slid close to his girlfriend and gently put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them firmly. He felt the tension begin to leave her muscles.

“Don’t let her get to you, love. It’s only Parkinson. Since when did you get so worked up over what she says?” Draco asked. 

Y/N remained silent. Truth be told, Pansy had been tormenting her for nearly a month now. Her usual snide remarks had never caused much of a ruse within Y/N before, but that was until she’d started attacking her and Draco’s relationship. Whenever Y/N would say goodnight to Draco and head up to the girls’ dormitory, she would be greeted by Pansy sitting next to her snotty friends. They’d sit on their beds and snicker when Y/N walked in. They’d always say things like, “You know, Draco only likes you because you’re easy,” or “He pities you, Y/N.” Not to mention all the times they'd called her a slag. At first, she was able to ignore it. But after numerous weeks of hearing such degrading and hurtful words, she’d begun to believe them. 

Telling Draco wasn’t an option. Y/N was ashamed; she didn’t want Draco to be disappointed in her for letting Pansy get to her. The look on his face if she told him would be too much to stomach.

“Y/N? What’s wrong, babydoll?” Draco asked. His girlfriend’s silence was concerning him. Y/N turned to him and forced a smile onto her lips. “Nothing,” she assured him, “I’m fine.”

Draco looked skeptical but dismissed his worry and leaned in for a quick kiss. Y/N kissed him back, but after a few moments, she pulled away. “I’d better go get cleaned up before Transfiguration. McGonagall wouldn’t be pleased if I came in like this,” she laughed while gesturing to her soiled uniform. Draco smiled and nodded. 

“I’ll see you in the common room after dinner, yeah?” he asked as Y/N stood up from the table and pushed her hair out of her face. She willed herself to look up and shake her head, yes. Her boyfriend still looked apprehensive. “See you then,” she choked out as she spun on her foot and made haste to leave the Great Hall. 

--------

Later in the school day, Y/N was leaving her last class, Herbology, and was walking through the mysteriously empty corridors, the thought of a relaxing bath filling her head, when she ran smack into someone. She nearly toppled over from the impact, but the person she’d bumped into quickly seized her arm and pulled her close to their chest. Y/N instantly felt uncomfortable and pushed herself off of the tall figure. Upon looking up, she saw that Blaise Zabini had been the one to save her ass from hitting the floor. She’d never been one to forgo manners as many other Slytherins did, so she nodded her head and said, “Thanks, Zabini.”

He smirked down at her, his white teeth showing. “No problem, sweetheart,” he purred. A cold shudder ran down Y/N’s spine. She didn’t like this situation one bit; however, when she tried to distance herself and Blaise, he grabbed her upper arm and tugged her towards him. She found herself once again pressed up against the boy’s chest. 

“Where you going, babydoll?” he asked. Bile rose up from Y/N’s stomach. When Draco called her babydoll, it was cute, but when the word fell from Blaise’s lips, she felt thoroughly sick. She wiggled her arm, trying desperately to remove it from his grasp. But it was to no avail. His fingers were wrapped around her bicep so firmly she could practically feel the bruises beginning to form.

Y/N continued to struggle against him. “Let go of me, you prat,” she grunted. Blaise didn't heed her words; instead, he stared at something behind her. Y/N looked over her shoulder, but before she had the chance to register who was there, Blaise took her chin in his fingers and forced his lips onto hers. Y/N squealed in shock and tried to use her free arm to push Blaise off. She felt fear overtake her entire body as she fought hard to get out of his clutches. But the boy was too powerful. Luckily for Y/N, she remembered what her father had always told her to do if a male ever tried to violate her. Hit him where it hurts. Without a moment's hesitation, she lifted her foot and rammed her knee into Blaise’s crotch with as much force as she could muster. 

He grunted painfully and instantly let go of her, his hands flying to protect his private parts from any further harm. “Fucking bitch!” he yelled. Y/N backed away from him in fear. She was about to run away when she remembered that he had been staring behind her. Y/N turned around to see Pansy holding a camera in one hand and fresh pictures in the other. Her heart raced when she put two and two together. She’d been set up, and she was angry. Y/N whipped out her wand and pointed it at Pansy's head. Wordlessly, she sent the camera and pictures flying from her grasp and into her own. This didn’t please the Slytherin, who took out her own wand and angrily shouted, “Flipendo!” Before Y/N could react, she was sent flying backward, letting the camera and pictures fall from her hands. 

When she fell, her head hit the floor hard enough that it bounced. She stayed still as pain pulsed through her entire skull. As she was recovering from the intense blow, Pansy strutted over to her. She laughed as she stood over her and glared down. “Look at you—what a pathetic excuse for a Slytherin. Can’t even properly defend yourself,” she sneered. Y/N, fueled by anger, jumped to her feet and shouted the first spell that came to mind without thinking. “Incarcerous!” Ropes shot from the tip of her wand and wrapped around Pansy’s chest and arms, rendering her defenseless and immobile. Adrenaline was still rushing in her bloodstream when a deep voice called out to her.

“Miss Y/L/N,” it bellowed. Y/N’s heart sank; she recognized that voice to be Severus Snape’s. Sighing, she tucked her wand into her robe and glanced to her left to see the greasy-haired professor. His robe was flowing behind him as he walked rapidly towards her. “Detention,” he declared. Y/N knew better than to argue; the last time she tried, she’d only earned herself another week of writing lines in Snape’s office. After nodding to her potions professor, she turned to go but then spotted the camera. It was in Blaise’s hands. He simply smirked at her and sauntered away. 

No, no, no, Y/N thought as her heart sank. She felt as though she was rooted to the stone floor. It was obvious what Pansy and Blaise were planning to do with those photos. They had thought this out; they were going to show them to Draco. After she realized the shit she was in, Y/N knew there was only one thing she could do at this point. Get to Draco before they did. 

She bent her knees and took off sprinting through the hallway, determination pumping through her body. But she was stopped short by the sound of her name coming from Snape. Reluctantly and defeatedly, she willed her feet to slow down. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Snape called out to her. Y/N spun around slowly, a grimace plastered to her face. “My dorm,” she said uncertainly; her statement sounded more like a question.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You’ll be coming with me to my office to serve your detention.” Y/N grumbled to herself angrily. She still couldn’t understand why Snape was never as nice to her as he was towards the rest of the Slytherin house. Y/N watched as Snape freed Pansy from her restraints. She got to her feet and thanked her head of house before strolling down the corridor, making sure to leer at Y/N when she passed. The urge to sock her in the jaw was strong, but Y/N refrained and followed after Snape, hoping to get detention over with as soon as possible.

--------

Draco was fiddling with a stray thread on his sweater when Pansy sat down next to him. He gave her a look. Pansy had a devilish smirk on her face. “Hello, Draco,” she cooed. The blonde shifted his weight so that he was farther away from Pansy. “What do you want?” he questioned. “I’m waiting for Y/N.”

Pansy’s head fell back as she let out a shrill laugh. “You won’t give a damn about her once you see this,” she declared cheerfully. Draco looked at her quizzically. “See what?” he hesitantly asked. Pansy wiggled her eyebrows and reached into her pocket. Slowly, she pulled out two pictures and passed one to Draco. His eyes studied her face before they downshifted to the photo in his lap. Draco’s confusion only grew when he saw what the picture was showing. Y/N and Blaise were pressed up against one another. Her hand was touching his chest, and he was caressing her cheek. 

“What the fuck is this, Parkinson?” Draco spat violently. Pansy said nothing; she only handed him the second photo. Draco snatched it from her; his breathing stopped when he looked at it. It was a photo of them kissing. Blaise and Y/N had kissed. Draco felt betrayed, deceived, hoodwinked, you name it, he felt it. Questions began to flood his brain. How could she do this? How long had she been seeing Blaise? Was he not good enough for her? Had he done something to upset her? Panic began to rise within Draco.

“She’s been cheating on you for quite some time, Draco. I was going to tell you sooner, but I knew you wouldn’t believe me without proof,” Pansy said sweetly. She tentatively put her hand on Draco’s shoulder and began to rub up and down soothingly. He barely registered her touch as his world began to crumble. His heart was totally and utterly broken. He couldn’t think he couldn’t breathe. Nothing made sense to him at that moment. 

“This must be so hard for you, Draco. I’m so sorry. But look on the bright side, now you can get rid of her. You have proof that she cheated. There’s no way she can deny what she did,” Pansy said a little too excitedly. But Draco paid her no mind; his eyes still hadn’t moved from the photographs in his palms. 

“Where is she?” he asked through gritted teeth. Pansy sighed dejectedly. “Well, she attacked me in the hallway, but Snape caught her. I suspect she’s still in detention, but—” Pansy was cut off by Draco springing to his feet, the photos in his tight grip. “Where are you going?” she asked him; he was at the door. Without looking back, he said, “To find her.”

“Draco! Wait!” Pansy exclaimed, but Draco was already gone. 

Snape’s office wasn’t far; it was in the dungeons along with the Slytherin common room and potions classroom. Draco’s heart was racing as he stormed through the hallways. He had no plan of action; he just knew he had to find her. Millions of possibilities ran through his head, but he didn't stop to ponder any of them. He rounded a corner and felt his breath catch in his throat. There she was. She looked distraught. When her eyes found Draco, she walked towards him immediately. Draco didn’t move from his spot. He let her come to him. When she reached him, she stared at him intently. A few moments of heavy silence passed before she decided to test the waters. “Draco?” she asked hesitantly.

“How long?” he retorted.

“How long? What do you mean?”

“Don’t play fucking dumb, Y/N. How long have you and Blaise been together, huh?”

Y/N’s face paled. “Draco, it is not what it looks like. Whatever Pansy told you isn’t true.”

Draco laughed. “She didn’t tell me. She showed me,” he replied in a strangely calm voice. Y/N felt tears spring to her eyes as Draco harshly shoved the photographs into her hands. She reluctantly looked down at the images of her and Blaise. She knew it looked terrible, but she was determined to make Draco believe her. 

“What do you have to say for yourself? I mean, seriously, was I not good enough for you? Is that it?” Draco asked. Hurt was audible in his voice.

Y/N felt her heart shatter. “Draco, don’t talk like that, of course, you’re good enough for me. You’re more than enough. Please, you have to trust me, you have to believe me. I would never cheat on you; they set me up.” Y/N pleaded. Her eyes were wide with fear.

Draco scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t lie to me, don’t make up stories. You cheated, and you didn’t care about the repercussions. Did you ever care? Was I just a game, just a toy for you?” He asked, his voice cracking.

“Of course I cared about you, Draco, I still do. I never fucking stopped caring about you... About us. Draco, I love you, please believe me, please let me explain,” she begged. But Draco wasn’t having it. He took a step backward; she took one forward. Draco clenched his fists. “Get away from me. We’re done.”

Y/N began to panic. “No, no, Draco, listen to me. Please don’t leave, please—”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a damn what you have to say. I don’t want to hear from you again, I don’t want to look at you. Do you understand me? Stay the fuck away from me,” Draco commanded. He continued backing up. This time, Y/N stayed put. Tears fell from her cheeks as she watched her lover leave. She felt her legs begin to tremble. She couldn't believe this was happening. It had only been a few hours ago that she had given him a good morning kiss. How had they ended up in this situation so fast? Her legs continued to shake, and eventually, she collapsed onto the cold floor. Sobs racked her body. 

-----------

A few weeks later, Draco was sitting in his usual spot in the Great Hall. In Y/N’s place, however, sat Pansy. She was leaning on her hand and gazing at Draco mindlessly. Truth be told, it made Draco a bit uncomfortable. But he did his best to ignore her as he finished up his supper. The past week had been extremely hard for him. He’d hardly gotten any sleep due to the fact all he could think about was Y/N. The look on her face when he’d ended things was burned into his mind. She’d looked so heartbroken, almost as if she was the one who was hurting. Draco knew better than that; he knew he was the one who’d been deceived. He was the one who’d been cheated on, for crying out loud. If anyone was hurting, it was him. 

Every time he saw an orange, her favorite fruit, he’d feel his heart clench. Whenever he’d pass the astronomy tower, he’d be reminded of all their time spent up there. The worst, however, was seeing her in the hallways. It hurt beyond belief to see her with Blaise. It just so happened that every time Draco saw them, Blaise's arm was around her waist. It made him sick to his stomach.

“You feeling alright, Dray?” Pansy inquired, pulling Draco out of his thoughts. He nodded and continued to pick at his shepherd's pie. “You don’t look, alright,” Pansy pushed further. Draco slammed his fist onto the table, making some fellow Slytherins irritated. He ignored them and glared at the girl next to him. “I found out a week ago that my girlfriend of two years has been cheating on me. Sorry, I’m not my usual fucking self,” he snapped. Pansy looked disturbed by his angry outburst and decided to remain silent for the rest of their meal.

Draco remained quiet as well; he didn’t like talking anymore. Hell, he didn’t like doing anything anymore. He felt so empty without her. She gave his life joy. Bullying first years and Harry Potter wasn’t the most fulfilling activity, neither was burying himself in his studies. But when Y/N was present, he was happy; he was important. Without her, he felt worthless. 

Just then, Draco noticed the couple themselves walking towards the doors of the Great Hall. Blaise’s hand was wrapped around Y/N's arm. She looked a bit disgruntled. When the pair passed Draco and Pansy, Y/N made eye contact with the blonde boy. Her eyes seemed sad, pleading almost. This intrigued Draco more than he cared to admit. He watched them leave, waited a few seconds, then stood up from his seat.

“Draco, where are you going? You haven’t finished your dinner,” Pansy whined. He chose to ignore her and follow after his former lover instead. 

When he walked through the doors, he headed for the stairs to the dungeons. He knew Y/N would always go straight to the common room after dinner; he could only hope that was still true. Draco could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he raced down the stone steps. He wasn’t quite sure what had possessed him to follow after the girl who cheated on him, but there he was running after her.

When he got to the bottom of the staircase, he became acutely aware of the lack of people in the Hogwarts basement. Usually, Slytherins would be lurking around every corner, but not tonight. It was too quiet for Draco's liking. He willed himself to calm down. Once he did, he heard the sound of hushed voices coming from his right. He quietly hastened down the dark corridor until he came to the end of it. “Leave me alone,” a familiar voice said. Draco knew it was Y/N, he felt his heart jump upon hearing her, but He stayed hidden behind a wall and urged himself to open his ears to the conversation around the corner.

“You and Parkinson have already ruined my relationship. Can’t you just leave me be now? I thought you were just helping her get those photos; why are you still bothering me?” Y/N asked. She sounded exasperated.

“Pansy did pay me well for those pictures, but I’m afraid I’ve taken a liking to you, sweetheart. You’re just too pretty to pass up.”

After a few beats, Y/N replied with a quiet, “Don’t touch me.” Anger began to boil within Draco, but he didn’t let his presence be known just yet. He wanted to continue eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“What’s wrong, babydoll? Don’t like me?” Blaise asked tauntingly. Draco clenched his fists in an attempt to control his anger. But he knew it was only a matter of time before he lost his temper. 

“Well, no shit Zabini. You fucking assaulted me and—” Y/N was cut off by a loud slap. This set Draco off; he launched himself off the wall and rounded the corner, wand out, and raised. Y/N and Blaise were shocked to see him here, but Blaise quickly masked his surprise and put his hands behind his back.

“Ah, Malfoy. Fancy seeing you here,” he said. Draco stormed up to him and pressed the tip of his wand to Blaise’s throat. He withdrew his hands slowly while staring at the wand, fear in his eyes. “Hey man, what the fuck are you doing?” he asked in a wavery voice.

“Did you hit her?” Draco asked. His voice was dark, his pupils were tiny as he glared at Blaise. The tall boy didn’t reply. Draco pressed his wand further into his neck. “Look at her, Zabini. Her cheek is burning red; I know you see it. So let me ask you again, did you fucking hit her? And don’t lie to me, you piece of shit.” Draco seethed. Y/N watched the exchange between the boys with terror on her face. She felt anything but safe.

Blaise gulped. “She was acting like a bitch,” he shrugged. Draco didn’t hesitate. “Petrificus Totalus!” Blaise fell backward onto the floor with a loud thud; he was now frozen. Draco stood over him, steaming as he tucked his wand into his pocket and reeled back his fist. “Draco, no!” Y/N yelled. But Draco was blind with rage. He rammed his fist into Blaise’s cheek. Y/N cried out for him to stop, but he hit him again and again. Blaise didn't make a peep as he was forced to endure Draco's brutal punches. Y/N looked on with tears streaming down her face. She didn’t try to stop him for fear he would turn on her. 

Once Draco was satisfied with the pulp he had beat Balise into, he released him from his invisible bonds. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran off to the Slytherin common room, not wanting to test Draco’s patience any further. Draco watched him go as he examined the blood on his knuckles. At last, he and Y/N were alone. The blonde boy turned to Y/N. His stomach dropped when he saw her tear stricken face. Her eyes were filled with fear as she peered up at him from her spot on the floor. Draco hesitantly crouched down. 

“Y/N… it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said softly. Y/N began to cry even more. Draco felt his stomach churn with regret, and he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Y/N.

“I didn’t cheat o-on you. Parkinson pu-put Zabini up to it. I didn’t kiss him willingly,” she stuttered, her body still rocking with sobs. Draco felt like a complete arsehole. He should've just let her explain that night. If he would've only heard her out, they could've avoided all of this.

 Draco gently reached out his hand and waited until Y/N placed hers on top of it. He intertwined his fingers with hers. The warmth from her touch was a stark contrast to the icy feeling of his. He pulled her hand close and softly kissed it. “I believe you, love. I’m sorry I didn’t before, but I do now. Please forgive me.”

Y/N rubbed her nose and gradually opened her arms. Draco pulled her into a much-needed hug. He pressed his face into her shoulder and relished in the feeling of her arms around his. Even though it had only been a week, it had felt much longer. So to finally be back in each other’s embrace was like a breath of fresh air.

When they pulled away, Draco caressed her face and, with his thumb, began to wipe the tears from her soft cheeks. He noticed the fading red mark from Blaise’s slap, and he felt his fury begin to return. But Y/N saw this right away. She put her own hands on Draco’s face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “I’m okay, just a little spooked is all,” she assured him. Draco saw right through her just like she’d seen through him. He knew she was terrified.

“You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, love. You’ve been hurt in so many ways, and I am so sorry. But I’m here now, and I promise you, nobody is going to lay another hand on you, okay? I’ve got you if you'll have me,” Draco said. Y/N smiled and pressed her forehead to his. They remained that way for a few moments before Draco pulled her into his lap. He stroked her hair comfortingly and began to rock her back and forth, calming her remaining tears. 

After a few minutes of this, Y/N turned around in Draco’s grasp. She smiled and reached up to push his hair out of his face. Usually, it would be clean-cut and uniform, but that night’s events had turned it into a messy mop. She chuckled to herself, causing Draco to look at her quizzically. “What?” he asked. Y/N tilted her head and pursed her lips. “You’re just too cute, is all.”

Draco felt blush rush to his cheeks; he buried his face in Y/N’s shoulder yet again. She simply hummed contentedly and pressed a kiss to his head. “I missed you,” she mumbled. Draco lifted his head and placed a tender kiss on her lips. “I missed you too, my lovely.”

“Please don’t break up with me again. I was so sad,” Y/N said with pouty lips. Oh, how Draco had missed those. He leaned in for another kiss. “Don’t worry, I was really lonely without you. You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future,” Draco declared. Y/N giggled. “Good,” she replied. 

And suddenly...everything was okay again. 

[luffles424]

Luminous

☼ Pairing: Jimin x reader 

☼ Genre: tentacle monster!Jimin, some fluff, smut, mostly just pwp

☼ Count: 9k

☼ Warnings: 18+, public sex (no ones around but they’re on the beach), tentacles (kind of a given), big dick jimin, manhandling, lots of cum, some cumplay, creampie, cum inflation/belly bulge (not a whole lot, just a small bump) unprotected sex, restraints, choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tit fucking, thigh fucking, oral (m recieving), deep throating, anal, double penatration, minor nipple play, praise kink, mating cycles, slight impreg kink

☼ Summary: The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here. 

☼ a/n:  This was written for Sol’s (jamaisjoons) collab event ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ and my prompt was ‘watching fireworks.’ Uhhh this idea was originally very different and then I started thinking about tentacles and now here we are 🥴🥴🥴 Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Banner made by the absolutely amazing @jamaisjoons​ (who did such wonderful work on it and I hope the fic lives up to the beautiful banner she made me 💕💕💕)

You let out a small contented sigh as you slip your feet into the water. This is your favorite place in all of Busan, this hidden little jutty of rock just off one of the smaller, less popular beaches, more popular among locals only. You’ve spent more time than you can count out here hanging out with your friends, passing the time and using the salty sea breeze to help combat the heat of summer. You’ve been out here plenty on your own too, just like how you’re out here alone right now. 

The sun’s dipping below the horizon, the sky slowly turning an inky black. The perfect backdrop to what’s going to happen soon and the main reason you’re out here at all to begin with rather than at home. The summer festival is happening and once the sun disappears, the sky will be decorated with fireworks, and you and your friends discovered years ago that this is the best spot to watch them, unobstructed and no one around to fight for seats. 

You kick your feet idly in the water, enjoying the warmth of it as you lean back on your hands as you watch the last few rays of light slip away. You wished your friends could’ve made it though. But Namjoon was stuck in the city for work and Taehyung was out with his girlfriend at the festival. A brief feeling of sadness overcomes you because you had been planning to go with Taehyung and his girlfriend and your own boyfriend as a double date. Until he dumped you a week ago over text because he’d moved to the otherside of the country and apparently was nothing like the man you met since he didn’t even have the balls to break up in person. 

You suspect that there was a lot more than his flimsy excuse of it’s just not working and long distance is hard. It most likely has something to do with the new girl that you’ve been told about that has shown up on his socials. 

For what it’s worth, Taehyung and Namjoon both offered you company but you waved them off. Namjoon’s job opportunity is much more important and as much as you love Taehyung and his girlfriend, you didn’t particularly feel like being third wheel to their (normally adorable and heart warming) love. 

You think this is better anyway. It’s peaceful out here. The smell of salt being carried by the breeze brings a myriad of memories that all bring a smile to your face and it’s easy to forget about the hard things in this moment. It’s healing to be out here. As much as it sucked that you got dumped, you can’t be too upset. You saw the cracks forming the more he opened his mouth and talked, if he hadn’t done it, you likely would have been doing it soon anyway. You let your head fall back, letting your eyes slip closed as you simply enjoyed this. You should tell the others that you all need to make another trip out here soon. 

Plus you’d come much earlier when the sun was still high and swam some. Using the ebb and flow of the ocean to erode your worries and stress. Then you’d sprawled out on your beach towel on your rocky perch and let the sunset dry your skin before you slipped back into your shorts and tank top and allowed the peacefulness to swallow you. 

You startle slightly when there’s a loud, echoing boom and color flashes across the sky. You’d been lulled into such calmness and had almost forgotten why you were out here to begin with. You watch the sky passively, watching the occasional flash of color and shapes as the firework people warm themselves and the crowds up. You know the real show won’t start for at least another 45 minutes, knowing the tell by the fact that there’s still the faintest of traces of blue on the horizon. 

Your feet continue their idle movements in the water, until something slick brushes the bottom of your foot and you scream on instinct, quickly jerking your foot free from the water. You back up an extra foot from the edge, to the safety of the blanket that you spread across the rocks, just as an extra precaution. You’re sure that whatever touched you was probably just seaweed. Maybe a plastic bag or some other trash that someone carelessly threw into the ocean. But anything touching you in the water when the water is nothing more than an inky black expanse is enough for you to decide that’s enough soaking for the night.

Just as your heart rate is returning to normal, something slips over the edge of the rocks where you’d just been sitting. It gleams in the moonlight, silver, smooth, and shiny, as it makes a cursory probe at the edge, like it’s looking for something. It’s probably no thicker than your thumb and you deliriously wonder if octopi are even capable of coming up on dry land, let alone the reason why one might be coming up right now. Though the longer you stare at it, the more you realize that it’s far too smooth to be from an octopus, completely devoid of the telltale suckers. 

You shuffle a little further away. You really don’t want to move too quickly, not if you don’t know what it even is and if it can follow you or how fast whatever it is. But your slight movement only seems to catch it’s attention and to your growing horror, it lashes out almost faster than you can see and wraps itself firmly around your ankle. You scream again, because aside from that, there’s really very little you can do out here all alone with it on you.

Any attempts to free yourself prove futile, the slender appendage is far stronger than you would’ve expected from such a jelly-like creature. It gives its own experimental tug, one that pulls you marginally closer to the water before you once again scramble backwards. It lets you and that just serves to freak you out more.

Then, a few more tentacles appear over the edge of the rock, watering dripping and spreading out around them and then there’s a… hand? You frown as a seemingly human hand, if perhaps a little ashen looking, plants itself on the rock right alongside the tentacles. The fingers flex for a moment before something, somehow even more surprising, appears. A fairly human face, or at least up to the eyes as that’s the furthest it raises, peaks up over the edge, gaze quickly zeroing in on you. Your heart stutters in your chest as your eyes meet and its pale silver eyes gleam like its tentacles. It’s hair is wet and slicked back and, though the locks are currently water logged and a few shades darker, it’s clearly also a similar shade of silver as its tentacles and eyes. 

Another hand joins the first along the edge of the rocks and for a moment it doesn’t move at all. You stare at it, you know it’s definitely bigger than an octopus now. You don’t think you could take it. It’s dead silent aside from the gentle lapping of the waves and you’re terrified to move for fear of what it’s going to do to you. It gives the slightest of tugs on your ankle and when you don’t budge it finally lifts itself from the water. 

You try to back away again, but it’s grip keeps you in place and you let out a startled scream when another tentacle darts out to wrap itself around your other ankle. The… monster… sits on its knees at the edge for a moment after pulling itself from the water. 

It, he?, looks almost perfectly human. Skin a dimmed golden shade, frame small but packed with lean muscle… apparently well endowed in human terms. You jerk your gaze quickly away when you realize just where you're staring. Your life is on the line, now is not the time to to fucking ogle the monster and think about if he can get hard like a human and if it possibly gets bigger. You force yourself back to his face, cheekbones prominent and lips plush as he seems to be looking you over as well, though his gaze continually seems to dart behind you, brows knitting in confusion. 

His eyes appear almost human except that it doesn’t seem like he has a pupil, silver swallowing the whole of the iris. It’s slightly disconcerting. His tentacles shift behind him, drawing your attention to them finally. The ones not on you shift behind him restlessly, never seeming to settle. A thin one drapes itself on his shoulder before slithering across his skin to the other side, forming a strange sort of living necklace. It’s hard to pin down an exact number with them constantly moving, but there seems to be a lot and they seem to come in primarily two sizes, thinner ones like the one draped around his throat and wrapped around your ankles and thicker ones easily the width of 3 or 4 fingers, you try very hard not to compare their girth with what you had glimpsed between his legs. 

You’re trying to formulate a plan to get away when there’s another boom of a firework, bathing everything pink for a moment. And what you’re certainly not expecting is for the way the monster startles at the sound. The tentacles around your ankles tighten almost painfully and then before you can completely comprehend what’s going on, you’re being pulled closer to him. Once you're close enough, he’s leaning down over you and you squeeze your eyes shut, unsure of what’s about to happen but positive that it’s unlikely to be good.

But nothing happens and as the seconds stretch, you slowly peek an eye open. His face is almost directly above yours, but it’s not you that he’s looking at. Instead, he’s studiously scanning your surroundings, looking tense and on edge. When you glance at the way that he’s leaning over you, you realize that he seems to be almost… protecting you? Which only serves to confuse you more.

Deeming there to be no immediate threat, his gaze turns down to you and you freeze now that you're faced with him this close. He blinks down at you before his lips part and he makes a strange sort of clicking sound, but you’re more focused on the sharp teeth revealed when he makes noise. Definitely sharp enough to tear into you and eat his fill.

“Please don’t eat me,” you squeak out, hands coming up to cover your face.

There’s silence for a moment before a deep chuckle sounds from him. You peek between your fingers at him and there’s a smirk stretching his lips. 

“Oh, I have met your kind before.” His voice is soft and surprisingly melodious given the higher pitch the clicking was. 

You can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “My kind?”

His lips twitch and he tilts his head. “Humans. Are you not human?” He pushes himself up slightly to inspect you again. “You do not appear to be one of my kind.”

“There’s more of you?”

His gaze darts around. “A few.”

You swallow, about to speak again when another firework goes off. He startles above you and drops closer once more, body pressed firmly to yours as he glares around, trying to discover the source. 

You’d laugh at his constant startling if your throat wasn’t suddenly so dry. His chest is every bit as firm as it looked and you can feel every shift and ripple as he looks around. It’s incredibly distracting. Why did the monster have to be hot? You squeeze your eyes shut again. You should not be thinking about how it’d feel to touch the monster with your hands. Or how other parts of him would feel. 

He shifts off of you slightly. “It is safe for now.”

You blink your eyes open, frowning at him. “Safe? What are you talking about?”

His head tilts and he reminds you of a confused puppy. “Do you not hear the loud noises?”

A giggle slips out and that seems to perplex him further. “No, no. I do. It’s just… Have you not been around here before?” 

“I have always lived here.”

“Have you… been on land before?”

His brows pinch and there’s the slightest of flushes coloring his cheeks a deep blue-gray. “I come up here every year.”

“How have you not heard them before then? They’re just fireworks.” You see the streak of a new one and point to it quickly, drawing his attention to it just before it reaches its peak and explodes in a sparkling cascade of gold. “They’re for entertainment. They’re not dangerous.” You pause. “Okay they are. But not at this distance. The only people who could possibly be in danger would be the ones firing them.”

“Fire… works?” He mumbles, sitting back on his haunches as his face remains tilted towards the sky even though the phosphorus has long since burned out. “Will there be more?”

You slowly push yourself up, cautious of what he might do but his focus remains firmly upwards. “Yeah, they’ll keep shooting some singles off for a little bit longer then they’ll start the big show.”

He says nothing else and you wonder if you can use the time to slip away before you realize that he still has two tentacles wrapped around your ankles. There goes your chance for escape. At least he doesn’t seem interested in eating you. Yet.

Another firework goes and you watch his eyes widen as he follows its trajectory up until it stops in an explosion of color and sound. But you’re far more taken watching the childlike glee on his face and the way the colors gleam on his skin and tentacles. The colors add another level to his already stunning looks, making him look far more ethereal and angelic. He grins as he watches and he looks much less like a terrifying monster. Though you worry what will happen once the fireworks stop and there’s nothing to distract him. Maybe when the real show starts he’ll be so engrossed that you can slip yourself free of the tentacles and make a quick and quiet escape. 

You shake your head, looking away and up at the sky too. There’s nothing much you can do right now with their grip on you still too tight, so you might as well also watch the show. The fireworks are slowly starting to increase in frequency and he seems to squirm in excitement the closer together the pops of color come. 

“Do you have a name?” You ask suddenly, looking back over at him. Maybe you can text Namjoon or Taehyung and tell them that if you disappear to look for something with that name. Probably Taehyung. He’d be more likely to believe that you’ve been taken by a monster than Namjoon. He’d probably ask if you’ve drank or smoked anything. Get too drunk camping once and claim that bigfoot tried to kidnap you and you never get believed again. 

He doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that you spoke. But then his lips purse and he looks over at you for a moment. “Jimin.”

“Jimin?” He bobs his head and turns back to catch another firework going off. “My name’s Y/n.” You murmur, unsure if he’s even interested. 

It hurts a little that he didn’t seem interested in you back, but you suppose that you don’t know whatever his monster customs are. And you really shouldn’t look too deeply into why it hurts that a monster doesn’t seem interested in you. That should be a good thing. It means you have a better chance of getting away. 

There’s a long break in the fireworks and Jimin’s lips push out into an adorable pout as he turns to you with sad eyes. “Is it over?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No. It’s actually just getting ready to get started. Now it’s the big show. You thought it was good before. Just wait.”

He gives a simple nod and turns back to the sky, content to wait patiently for the rest. Silence descends on you both and you feel like you should be more worried about the tentacle monster sitting in front of you. But Jimin seems harmless enough, he certainly hasn’t tried to eat you or anything and that’s certainly got to count for something. He seems far more interested in the fireworks than in you now anyway. 

You’re just starting to relax when something cool and damp brushes the skin of your lower back. You freeze, back stiff as whatever it is tentatively touches the warm skin before slithering further up your shirt. You bite down on the urge to scream, you don’t want to startle Jimin again. Just because he was protective before, doesn’t mean that a scream coming from you would produce the same result. And before you can twist to see what is crawling up your shirt, the tentacles around your ankles slide a little further up your legs, ends timidly probing along your flesh as they go.

Another tentacle, one of the thicker ones, slides across your arm, wrapping once around your wrist and nestling the tip into your palm. The cool sensation is bizarrely familiar and it takes you only a moment to realize that whatever crawled up your shirt a moment ago is another tentacle. You’re about to speak when a thin tentacle trails up your arm to rest against your shoulder, gently tracing your jaw and neck. 

You swallow. “Um, Jimin?” All you get is a hum in response. Does he not realize what’s going on? “Jimin? What’s happening?”

Either your words or tone finally pulls his attention to you and when he sees his tentacles wrapped around you, he flushes a pretty blue. He scoots away, working to encourage them to release you, but this time of year they always have a bit more mind of their own. He makes an irritated clicking noise when they don’t move.

The one in your hand seems to respond to his sound though you’re not sure if it’s the way he wanted it to or not but it tightens around your wrist slightly before becoming… slicker?

You look at it, a weird mix of horror and maybe a little arousal. Maybe you shouldn’t have watched so much hentai when you were younger. You look back up at Jimin, at a complete loss. “Jimin?”

Jimin looks incredibly embarrassed, burying his face in his hands and making more distressed clicking noises. Probing tentacles aside, he looks adorable all flustered like this. A few of his tentacles wrap around his wrists and shoulders, patting his skin soothingly but that only seems to make him more distressed. 

The tentacle at your back has reached the tie to your bikini top beneath your shirt and is prodding at the knot with interest. You don’t know what to do to stop the distress you can practically feel coming from Jimin. The tentacle in your hand squirms slightly, drawing your attention back to it. You swallow, sneaking a quick peek at Jimin as you do the only, seemingly illogical, thing you can think of right now and you close your hand around the rowdy tentacle and squeeze. 

The result is instantaneous and certainly not what you had expected. Jimin moans. So then even if he’s not in control, he can still feel through them. Interesting to know. Jimin’s mouth hangs open for a moment before his gaze is meeting yours and you suddenly feel like maybe that was the wrong thing to do. 

There’s simmering fire in his eyes as he tries to speak as calmly and evenly as possibly. “I told you I come here once a year, correct?” You nod and he continues. “I come here to mate.”

You blink at him, mind completely blanking out. “M-mate?” You hate how high your voice sounds. 

He nods, sending a glare at the tentacles touching you. “When I saw you here, I had assumed you were one that I have spent the mating period with before.”

“Fuck, did I ruin your hookup?”

“Hookup?”

Your body heats with embarrassment. Maybe if you ask nicely, Jimin will let you go drown. “Whoever you were supposed to meet here. Did they not show up because I was here?”

He’s quick to shake his head. “I did not have plans. But sometimes if someone is near they will stop by. If they are not, I can take care of myself.”

The image of Jimin splayed out on the rocks by himself, tentacles sliding across his skin, wrapped around his cock, drawing more of those noises from him shoots straight to your core. Your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand accidentally tightens around Jimin’s tentacle again, drawing a gasp from him. 

“I apologize for not warning you sooner. The fireworks distracted me but it appears that it did not distract them.” He gestures to his tentacles. “Give me a moment and I should be able to free you so you can leave.”

His eyes slip closed and your gaze drags over him, startling slightly when you realize he’s started to grow hard too. You feel crazy that the first thing you think is how badly you want to touch. 

This is such a bad idea, but before you can stop yourself or second guess, you’re speaking. “What if... you didn’t though?”

Jimin freezes, but the tentacles seem to grow more restless at your words. Another thick one stretches the distance between you both to rest against your thigh, slicking your skin wherever it touches.

“You do not know what you are saying.” He grits out.

The tentacle in your hand squirms and you give it a small squeeze, maintaining eye contact with Jimin as you do so you get to fully enjoy the shudder that ripples through him. “I um, think I have a pretty good idea what I’m saying.”

He shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. You didn’t think it would be so hard to convince a tentacle monster that you wanted him to fuck you. This was by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. For all you know, he could eat his partner afterwards. If you live past this encounter, no one would ever let you live it down. If they even believed you. Your gaze drops involuntarily back to his cock and you find that he's fully hard now. And it’s almost a little intimidating how big he is, longer and thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before. You don’t think your fingers would be able to wrap around the girth. But any apprehensions you think you’d feel normally are nowhere to be seen, all you feel is overwhelming want. You want to try to fit him, to feel the burn as he stretches you out. You want to taste and you want him to absolutely ruin you. 

Unsure of any other way to convince him that you do want this, you switch tactics. If you can’t convince him with words, you’ll just have to show him what you want. You release the tentacle in your hand, though it keeps itself wrapped around your wrist, and move to remove your shirt. Seeming to know your plan, or maybe just through a stroke of luck, the tentacle that has been exploring your bikini top seems to have discovered how to undo the ties and as your top hits the ground beside you, your top slips to your lap.

His eyes dip to the scrap of fabric in your lap before they trace slowly back up, expression worryingly blank. You belatedly realize that this might not even be a good signal to him that you do want this. You don’t know what others of his kind look like, if any of them look anything like you. For the most part, he looks human enough, you’d think that maybe this was enough, that maybe this is at least sort of familiar to him. You feel suddenly self conscious, this was such a dumb idea. You really shouldn’t let the horny brain lead. You’re just about to cross your arms to cover yourself when the tentacle that had been on your thigh slithers up your stomach to sit between your breasts. 

You glance at Jimin and his eyes seem darker, jaw clenched tight. His tentacles seem to grow more agitated behind him and the ones around your ankles tighten to tug you closer, both to your surprise and apparently also Jimin’s. He flushes, staring down at you with wide eyes as your thighs come to rest against his. 

The tentacle on your chest squirms and Jimin’s gaze drops to watch. Your gaze drops too, intending to look at the tentacle currently writhing around on your chest and smearing slick there but you only make it halfway. Because Jimin is now fully hard, thick cock curving up towards his belly and the sight of it has you enraptured. He looked big when he was still soft, but now fully hard, or at least what you assume is fully hard, he looks positively massive. The skin of his cock is the same muted tan of the rest of him, the tip almost blue-gray, close to the color his cheeks turned but deeper in color, and it’s leaking more silvery looking fluid. You wonder if it’s the same thing that is leaking from his tentacles. 

Jimin shudders and it takes only a moment for you to realize that the reason is because a thin tentacle has wrapped itself around the base of his cock. It makes you want to touch too. So tentatively, you reach out, gaze flicking between his cock and his face to gauge his reaction and giving him more than enough time to pull away. 

He watches your fingers brush against the tip, dragging a smear of slick further down the shaft but he makes no move to stop you. He lets out a shaky exhale and, emboldened by the noise, you wrap your fingers around him. Or you at least try your best to because his girth keeps your fingers from meeting. 

Jimin makes a rumbling noise and then there are two more tentacles massaging at your thighs, working their way up until they meet the edge of your shorts. They only probe along the fabric for a moment before slipping beneath and continuing their exploration towards the apex of your thighs. They trace the edge of your bikini bottoms before one of them presses against your pussy through the thin fabric. 

You gasp and Jimin’s gaze is back on your face, attention wholly focused on you as his tentacles press again, but this time with a little more pressure. One happens to brush past your clit and you jolt, a moan slipping from your lips and the tentacles seem desperate to recreate that reaction as they narrow their focus to your clit. 

Jimin groans again and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, his tentacles all stilling for a moment. He waits until you look up at him. “Are you sure? It will be harder to stop once we start. Are you positive you can handle it? I do not mind spending the time alone.”

It’s sweet how concerned he is about you. But now that he’s started, all you can think about is being fucked by him while his tentacles play with every inch of you. You squirm back slightly and he seems to take that as rejection, if the flash of disappointment you catch on his face is anything to go by. You quickly undo your shorts, tugging them down your legs, assisted by his tentacles once they reach your ankles. 

He swallows and you watch as the tentacles from your ankles relocate to your thighs to keep you spread wide as the two that had been in your pants resume their work on your clit, now free of the hindrance of cloth. You bring your slick fingers to your mouth and keep eye contact as you lick them clean. It’s salty like the sea, but rather than the bitterness of cum, his has a hint of sweetness to it. It’s slightly addictive.

He stares at you for a moment and then he’s making another clicking noise and the tentacle that had been around your wrist unwraps itself and slips between your legs to join the other two already there, though it bypasses your clit to circle your dripping hole instead. 

“Needy.” He coos, though you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or his tentacles. Maybe both. 

He shuffles in close again, seemingly content to just watch his tentacles play with you. You whine, you like the feel of his tentacles, but you want him to touch with his hands and lips too. You want more. Maybe the needy was directed at you after all. He glances up at your noise, watching the way your mouth drops open as his tentacle finally wriggles it’s way into your pussy. It’s firmer than you expected from touching it, but still much more malleable than a cock would be. But it’s softer nature allows it greater freedom to explore your walls as it moves slowly in and out of you, certainly a different experience for you but you definitely can’t find it in you to hate it when it can reach all the right spots inside of you easily.

You reach out, grabbing the first part of Jimin you can grab, his arm, and tug him insistently down on top of you. He complies easily, seemingly curious as to what you want. You wonder if he’s ever kissed a partner before, if that’s something that his kind does. You hesitate and Jimin immediately notices, head tilting in curiosity. 

“What is wrong?”

You’re gasping before you can formulate your question, the tentacle inside you having quickly found your g-spot and is now making sure to rub it with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Jimin’s head dips down and his nose rubs against yours. 

“Are you okay? I have never been with a human and so I am unsure of what might hurt or bring pleasure. Please tell me if they are hurting you.”

He looks so sweet and it makes your heart stutter a little. You tilt your head, capturing his plush lips in a kiss. They’re warmer than you expected, giving the cooler temperature of his tentacles. It takes him a moment of inaction before he seems to catch on to how to kiss back. He makes a small noise when your tongue brushes his lips but he easily parts them for you. His sharp teeth skim your lip and it leaves you gasping into his mouth. He seems pleased with the response and he trails his lips across your jaw and down your neck. 

“You did not answer my question.” He murmurs, teeth gently teasing the skin of your neck, mindful of their sharpness. 

His tentacles are driving you mad, bringing you so close to your orgasm but seeming to know exactly when to slow back down to draw it out even longer. “What… question?” You gasp out.

“Are you okay?”

You’d scoff if the tentacles around your clit hadn’t started circling in tandem, winding the coil in your belly tighter. “So… so okay… Fuck, Jimin, are you sure you’ve never been with a human before?”

He pulls away from your neck enough to look down at you, a pleased smile stretching his lips. “I have not. Am I doing good?”

You nod enthusiastically, hands tangling in his hair to pull him back in for a messy kiss. He makes a pleased sort of clicking noise in the back of his throat and his tentacles speed up. And this time when your orgasm draws near his tentacles keep their speed rather than slowing again and you cum, back arching off the blanket as your pussy convulses around the tentacle. His tentacles continue their ministrations and Jimin pulls away to stare down at where his tentacle disappears inside you with wide eyed wonder. 

He groans as he watches with rapt attention. “Does it do this every time?”

You squirm, oversensitivity quickly setting in as his tentacles refuse to let up. The borderline painful feeling robs you of words to tell him to slow down and give you just a moment to breath. The tentacle inside of you swells and then everything grows a little slicker as Jimin chokes on a gasp. You struggle to reach out to grasp any one of the tentacles, to just lessen the sensations ravaging your pussy just a little, but before you can even make contact, another tentacle is wrapping around both wrists and dragging them above your head. 

“J-Jimin, please…”

Jimin pays you no mind, tentacles working faster under his focused gaze and it doesn't take long for you to be thrown into a second orgasm, though it feels almost like the first one never ended. You cry out, much too loud even if the beach is seemingly deserted right now. You shudder as your orgasm crests and Jimin’s tentacle seems to stiffen inside you before you feel suddenly wetter and stickier and full. The tentacle slips out of you after a few weaker thrusts and a small gush of thick liquid follows and the tentacle suddenly seems much less enthusiastic than its counterparts. Fuck, did that mean…?

“Jimin,” you whine, waiting until he finally tears his gaze away from your dripping pussy. “Do… do your tentacles cum too?”

His head tilts in confusion. “Come?” He thinks for a moment before realization seems to overcome him. “Ah. Do you mean do my tentacles also release?”

Embarrassment creeps over you. Something so clinical shouldn’t have you aching to be filled again when you just came twice and apparently already filled. You nod shyly. 

“Yes. They also release. It is to give the best chance of a successful mating.”

You swallow, eyeing the tentacles behind him wearily. “Do they all have to?”

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “They do not. Only the big ones release. And from those, they do not all release every mating.”

You feel equal parts relieved and disappointed, though you know that you should probably question your disappointment. But you’ve already come this far, no reason to start questioning your potentially bad decisions now. 

He tilts his head. “Does it bother you? They do not need to do it near you if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You choke, unsure how to respond for a moment. This whole situation should really terrify and appall you. But you only find yourself growing hotter at the idea of being used by his tentacles and covered in their cum. You chew your lip before giving a small nod. 

His eyes trace over your face before he seems to light up and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Does the thought of that arouse you, sweet? I must admit, most of my previous partners were less than enthused about that aspect of mating.”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in your hands in shame but Jimin’s tentacles keep your hands studiously bound above your head. Even his own kind didn’t like it. Why were you so weird? He giggles, leaning down to brush your nose with his own. His face is set with a kind smile, but his eyes still dance with mirth and lust. 

“I find it very arousing that you like it so much. Tell me what you are thinking about, sweet.”

To punctuate his words, another tentacle slips between your legs, rubbing along your sticky slit. You moan and Jimin’s eyes shine with fire. “I… was thinking about you fucking me and filling me up and leaving me all messy.”

He smirks. “I can do that, sweet. Just ask.”

“Jimin, please, fuck me… Fuck, ruin me…”

Jimin’s grin turns positively feral, sharp teeth on display. And for a moment, fear ripples through you as Jimin looks truly like a monster for the first time since he’s surfaced. But then his tentacles shift around him, eager for their chance to touch. Jimin shoos the thick tentacle away from your pussy, the ones around your thighs assisting him in situating you how he wants. He runs the tips of his cock through the mess left there by his tentacle and a pleased chirp leaves him. 

“You are already so full. Do you think you can take more?” He purrs.

You nod and his cock presses against your entrance. He presses just the tip in and he stretches your pussy more than the tentacle did. You gasp, breath robbed from you as the stretch borders on too much. But Jimin seems to sense it and pauses with just the tip inside, allowing you all the time to adjust to his massive cock. 

Jimin’s hands skim up your thighs, the tentacles resting passively on your clit once again coming to life and the jolt of pleasure has you squirming on Jimin’s cock. His hands rest on your hips, gripping them with bruising strength to keep you from moving. You whimper at the casual display of strength, at the way that he seems to not even be trying to hold you still while his tentacles slowly circle your clit to get you to relax. 

Two other tentacles slip up your body, pressing against your breasts and kneading at the flesh experimentally. The sensation is different, while the tentacles don’t have the surface area the way a hand does, they are capable of moving in ways a hand simply can’t. They grope at the flesh, exploring and testing the limits. One brushes past your nipple, causing you to gasp and suddenly both are on the pebbled buds, playing with them to draw even more noises from you. Their motions mimic the motions on your clit and pleasure sparks across your body once again. 

The tentacles shift slightly, long bodies draping down the sides of your breasts and then they press the mounds inwards, forcing the flesh together around the tentacle still resting on your sternum. Jimin grunts at the sudden pressure around his tentacle and your gaze drops to watch with fascination as the tentacle starts to thrust into the tight space, silvery tip gleaming with each press through. 

Your pussy clenches at the thought of it slipping a little further up and into your mouth, of tasting that salty, sweet slick from the source. A high pitched noise sounds in Jimin’s throat as his hips stutter forward at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him and you moan as he slips a little further into you, stretching you just a little more. Now though, the stretch makes you ache for more, the burn finally passed with the aid of the tentacles playing with your clit and nipples and slowly pulling your pleasure back to the surface. 

You really need him to be completely inside of you and when you dig your heels into his ass to try to get him to move, he seems hesitant. His tentacles, however, seem more than thrilled at the idea and more than happy to help you in your pursuit. The ones around your thighs tighten and pull you closer, until Jimin is buried to the hilt in the clutch of your pussy. The noise is filthy, the mess from his tentacle spilling out around his cock to smear on your thighs and drip down your ass. 

Jimin goes rigid when he’s fully inside you, eyes trained on where you’re joined. He seems transfixed by the sight of your cunt swallowing down every inch he has. Your whine has his head snapping up to look at your face, drinking in the way you’re moaning. The tentacle between your breasts slips a little further up, tip bumping your chin once before it’s shifting to your lips. Your tongue darts out, swiping through the salty fluid. Jimin shudders, hips flexing where they press into you and you let your mouth fall open for his tentacle to slip in. 

Your tongue swirls around the tip and it squirms, pushing in further than you expect and causing you to gag. It pulls itself from your mouth with a pop and you frown at it’s loss before shifting your gaze to Jimin, who seems to be glaring at the tentacle like it did something wrong. 

“Jimin?” When he looks at you, you give him an amused smile. “It’s okay. It just takes me a minute.”

His head tilts but the tentacle makes its way tentatively back to your mouth, hovering until you open again for it to slip back in. It goes a lot slower this time, keeping its thrusts shallow. You hum encouragingly, tongue pressing and massaging the underside as it moves and the tentacle slides a little deeper. You gag only slightly this time, much more prepared now, and after a few thrusts you grow used to the intrusion and it can slip just a little bit more down your throat. 

Jimin watches for a moment before groaning and then he’s pulling his cock out until just the tip remains before slamming back in. You moan around his tentacle, noise muffled as it delves further down your throat. It stays there for a moment and the lack of oxygen has your head start to spin. Your hands twitch where they’re still bound above your head, but before the real need for oxygen comes and you have to try to alert Jimin that you need to breathe, the tentacle is pulling out, switching to shallow thrusts while you get a quick break to breathe. The sudden rush of oxygen has you feeling nearly euphoric and you can only hope that the tentacle does it again. When you whine around it, it pushes back into your throat and the rest of the whine is muffled by it’s girth. 

Jimin’s fingers flex against your hips as he watches and feels how much of his tentacle slips into the waiting warmth of your mouth and with a moan he starts fucking into your pussy with a quick pace. Your hands grab at the tentacle binding you, needing something, anything, to ground yourself as Jimin fucks you senseless. You feel wholly overwhelmed at the way his cock fills you, the way the tentacles swirl around your clit, your nipples and breasts, at the way the one in your mouth begins to stiffen up. 

The tentacles shift on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh once again before pinching at your nipples. You moan around the tentacle in your mouth and it gives a shudder before flooding your mouth and throat. You choke slightly, jerking your head slightly at the sheer volume being released into your mouth, far more than you can handle. Spit and cum drip from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to swallow and the tentacle pulls itself from your mouth before it's finished, painting the lower half of your face even more in its silvery essence. Jimin’s eyes gleam at the sight, seeming to become even more frantic with his thrusts. 

“J-jimin…” You whine, voice rough from use. You’re not entirely sure what you’d finish that statement with.

“You are doing so well.” He coos and the praise has your mind going fuzzy. “You look so pretty like this.”

He reaches up, sliding a hand through the mess on your cheeks before letting his hand drag the mess back down your body, leaving a shiny trail down your throat, in the valley between your breasts and across your stomach. He slams in particularly hard and you cry out, voice echoing across the empty beach and ocean, much too loud but you no longer care.

Jimin glows golden, the light haloing him and your fucked out mind is sluggish to make sense of the sudden color change. Then you remember why you were out here to begin with and you make the connection just as the resounding boom of the firework follows just after the shower of color. The fireworks show must be finally starting because the next second Jimin is bathed in blue, then pink.

But as quick as your attention was taken by the colorful shadows splashed across Jimin’s beautiful face, it’s taken back as he shifts suddenly, hands leaving your hips to push your thighs together as he continues to fuck you. Your calves come to rest on one shoulder and Jimin uses the new position to fuck you even harder. 

Something slick drags along the crease where your thighs are pressed together and a second later a tentacle is pushing into the tight space. Your skin tingles where it presses into your skin and with every thrust it makes through the tight press of your thighs, it bumps the tentacles on your clit. Jimin presses a kiss to your leg and you feel the breath leave him as his tentacle speeds up and he hisses.

The sensations are nearly overwhelming, to the point that you almost miss the new slim tentacle kneading the flesh of your ass. It delivers a pinch to the skin that leaves you gasping and you’re much more aware of it as it runs along the seam of your ass. You squirm, or at least attempt to, because between the tentacles restraining you and Jimin’s firm grip on your thighs, you’re left nearly immobile as you get fucked. The tentacle slips a little further up, gathering some slick before it’s dipping back down to prod at the tight ring of muscle of your hole. 

You shudder and if you could move, you’d press down onto the tentacle, force it to fill you because you need it as much as you need Jimin’s cock in you. “Fuck, please, don’t tease…”

Jimin’s face is set in concentration and you don’t think he heard you, except a second later the tentacle breaches your ass. You moan, glad that it was a smaller one to start. It thrusts tentatively, growing bolder as your noises raise in pitch and then a second slim tentacle is joining, slipping past the tight ring of muscle to thrust in counterpoint to the first. 

Jimin’s thrusts slow, his head tilting back as he pants. He looks like a sculpture, so beautiful that it aches a little. Something that people should look at and marvel over. A moan slips past his lips as the tentacles in your ass speed up a little, taking some time to also shift apart and spread you open even more. 

“You… are endless…” Jimin breaths out. It sounds reverent. 

The tentacles slip from you and you have no time to mourn the loss before they’re being replaced by one of the thicker tentacles. The stretch hurts a little, but with so many other things happening to your body at the same time, you’re quickly distracted from the ache. The tentacle stills anyway, allowing you time to adjust to its thick girth. 

“You are so full of surprises.” He says, head dropping forward once more to let his gaze rake over your shuddering figure.

The tentacle in your ass thrusts in response to Jimin’s words and when you don’t indicate any pain, both pull out and thrust roughly back in. The tentacle between your thighs and in your ass thrust opposite Jimin, keeping you full and stimulated when Jimin pulls out. 

“Please… Jimin please, fill me up, you said you would…” You feel slightly delirious with need, every thrust of his tentacle adds extra pressure to your clit and you feel so close to cumming, teetering on the edge. 

Jimin gives you no verbal response, only that of him pressing your thighs together a little harder. A few more thrusts of the tentacle between your thighs has you clamping down on Jimin’s cock and the one in your ass as you cum, body shuddering as the tentacles and Jimin continue to thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut, vision nearly whiting out entirely as your orgasm slams into you. The tentacle between your thighs lasts only a handful more thrusts before its stiffening and releasing, splattering your chest, belly, and thighs in the silver cum. It gives a few weak final spurts before slipping back through your thighs as Jimin parts them once more. 

His cock twitches as his gaze falls over you messy form, the normally silvery liquid lighting up in splashes of color with every new explosion that happens above you both. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight. One of his hands lands on your thigh as the other bats his tentacles away from your clit, an action that you're grateful for for only a moment because he quickly replaces them with his fingers. You arch and cry out, jerking your hands with enough force that you seem to startle the binding tentacle and it releases you. Your hands wrap around his wrist, tugging futilely at it to get him to let up. 

You moan his name desperately, trying to squirm away from the sensation as his tentacles keep you held close as he continues to fuck you through your overstimulation. 

“Can you do that for me one more time? You feel so good when you do that, sweet.”

You whimper. You want to say no, that it hurts a little and that you really don’t think you’re capable of another orgasm. But the pout he wears stops you and you find yourself nodding without even thinking about how you’re going to get past the too much feeling currently overwhelming your body. 

Jimin gives you another feral grin, eyes roving over your figure as his fingers work quick circles around your clit. For no experience with a human, he’s an incredibly fast learner. He seems to know your body better than your ex had and the two of you had been together for almost 2 years. 

The tentacles on your breasts move to collect some of the slick covering you, smearing it around your nipples as the pinch and play with them, the slick adding a new layer of feeling to the actions. 

“Come on, sweet.” Jimin purrs as his cock seems to swell ever more and the tentacle in your ass starts to stiffen. 

Another rough thrust and a few twists of his fingers and you’re cumming again with a cry of his name. Your pussy and ass convulses around him and Jimin lets out a series of clicks and chirps as he finally cums, flooding your pussy and ass with more silvery slick. There seems to be a never ending stream from his cock and after a few moments, pressure on your lower stomach makes you look down, groaning at the sight of your slightly distended belly.

Jimin makes a contented noise, rubbing gently over the swell. “You would look so beautiful swollen with my children.”

His cock gives another twitch and a feeble last spurt of cum and Jimin and his tentacles seem to deflate. His chin presses to his chest as he takes in slow, deep breaths. The tentacles all slowly slip from your body and you mourn the slight warmth you lose. Another few moments pass and then Jimin is gingerly pulling his cock from your abuse pussy and gazing over your whole body with almost reverence. 

You feel too exhausted to do much more, but you can feel his cum dripping from you, forming a puddle beneath your ass. At least you're next to the ocean for easy clean up. If you had the energy to do that. Maybe in 5 minutes… Or an hour. You can’t even feel your legs right now. You’re pretty sure you’d just drown.

Jimin stretches out beside you, arm coming to wrap around your middle, seemingly unbothered by the fact that it lands in a mess. You blearily realize that his tentacles seem much smaller now too. His head tilts and you realize that he’s watching the fireworks again. Like he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life and leave you ruined for anyone who comes after him. 

You watch in silence for a while, endeared by Jimin’s ohs and ahs as he discovers new types of fireworks, the different shapes and effects that can happen. 

“Jimin.” You call softly. His nose brushes your shoulder in response. “Will… Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

Jimin pushes himself up enough so that he can look down at you, frown marring his pretty face. “What is it?”

You fidget, suddenly hating that you’re naked and still covered in him. You glance over at the water.

“Do you wish to go in, sweet?”

It’s an easy out and you don’t feel strong enough to ask the real question yet, so you give him a simple nod. He grins, scooping you up and gracefully sliding you both into the water, arm wrapped tight around your middle to keep you afloat. 

Colors flash around you as you stare into Jimin’s eyes, every color reflected there as well. Before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. He lets out a surprised noise and then giggles when you pull away. 

“Do you wish to go again?”

Embarrassment fills you and you shake your head. “No. Um…” You take a deep breath. You can do this. “Will I see you again?”

Jimin’s face is unreadable for a painful stretch of time, though you’re sure it’s only a few seconds before he’s grinning. “I find myself quite taken by humans. I could certainly use a guide.”

You grin back, pecking him again. “First lesson, when humans like someone and want to spend time with them and go on dates, they give them kisses.”

He hums, giving you a kiss of his own, just a little deeper than yours. “I think I quite like kisses.” Then he grins and it’s full of mischief. “I think fireworks are my favorite though.”

You snort, prodding him with a finger. “You sure it’s the fireworks you like?”

He makes a thoughtful noise before nodding. “They make you luminous, sweet.”

[hellotvshowtrash]

The four times Bucky tries to tell you he loves you and the one time he does.

Warnings: fluffflufffluffflufffluff none zip zero, Bucky being a love struck goofy boy

Word count: 1.8k

Requested by the wonderful @divine-mistake 💗 I hope you enjoy it!!

There are like zero gifs of Bucky smiling so have Seb smiling

The first time Bucky tries to tell you he loves you, his throat dries up and he forgets how to form words. You’re on a walk at dusk, strolling around the neighborhood and he sees how the orange sunset light gleams through your hair, creating colours and highlights he’s not sure he’s ever seen before and he’s staring at you. You notice him out of the corner of your eye and you squeeze his hand gently.

“You’re staring,” you say. You turn your head to look at him and smile. His face is filled with adoration for you and sometimes you wonder if you’re the first woman he’s ever really seen.

He sputters a bit and looks away, his aqua eyes glinting in the sun. “I just-,” I love you. He clears his throat, his voice is raspy and he can’t seem to remember how to speak, so he says the first thing that comes to mind, “I think you’re beautiful.” He says simply. You smile at him again and he curses himself for not saying it when it felt right.

-

The second time Bucky tries to tell you he loves you isn’t through words at all, but through acts of service. Bucky takes the spare key to your apartment that you gave him and lets himself in while you’re at work. He waits anxiously, not entirely sure that he even has a plan and before he can think of one, he’s pacing and cleaning your space, taking the garbage out, vacuuming the floor, making your bed. All meticulously done and he takes pride in his work. When you step through your front door, you’re surprised to see him there, ready to take your coat and bag from you to hang them up in the coat closet.

“Bucky! I didn’t expect you here, or for you to clean my house?” You trail off slightly, making it more of a question than a statement.

“I just couldn’t wait to see you,” he smiles softly at you as he walks back over to you from the closet. “How was your day, baby?” He takes your hand and kisses it while leading you to the living room where there’s a ready cup of tea waiting for you on the coffee table, right next to the book you’ve been reading. You furrow your brows and look at him suspiciously.

He sits you down at the couch and he sits next to you, patting his lap. Your eyes light up as you realize what he's gesturing for. You lay on the couch next to him, resting your head in his lap. His hand drops to your hair and starts playing with it as you start talking about your day. He laughed with you and chatted with you about the events of the day. He could listen to your voice for days if you’d let him.

“Thank you for this, Bucky,” you say after he’s made you laugh. He’s startled by the sudden change of tone, but smiles at your eye contact.

He continues to stroke your hair, smiling down at you. “You’re welcome, doll.” I love you.

-

The third time Bucky tries to tell you he loves you is lavish and elegant and expensive. He’s dressed in his best suit and he makes sure to get a tie in your favourite colour. He drives to your apartment, his vibranium fingers tapping the steering wheel nervously as he whistles to himself. He parks his car and exits, practically sprinting to your apartment but he holds himself together, making himself presentable as he knocks on your door. He’s adjusting his coat and fumbling with the buttons when you open the door and you are stunning. He feels his jaw practically fall to the floor as he takes you in, floor length dress fitting your curves perfectly, hugging you in all the right places. You bite your lip to prevent your grin when you see him, his gaze on you is hungry and amazed and god, how could someone like her be with me?

“You clean up nicely.” You greet him with a warm smile. This shakes him from his trance and his starry eyes meet yours.

“Thank you, darlin’,” he replies. He holds his arm out to you and you take it, locking the door behind you as you leave.

The car ride is filled with joyful conversation and laughter and it’s always easy with Bucky. It’s always warm and comforting and easy. He makes it easy. You find yourself getting lost, thinking about how easy it is to love Bucky and before you know it he’s putting the car in park and taking his seatbelt off.

“You ready?” He asks with a smile. You nod at him and he exits the car, coming around to open your door and escort you out. He takes your hand in his and leads you to your destination.

The night is spent eating, drinking, dancing and and gazing, gazing at Bucky gazing at you as he twirls you and catches you in his arms, craning his neck to place his chin on your shoulder. His arms envelope you from behind and you close your eyes contentedly as you sway on the elegant dance floor to the soft music.

“This is amazing,” you whisper. I love you.

“A beautiful girl deserves a beautiful night,” he whispers back. I love you.

—

The fourth time Bucky tries to tell you he loves you is the same night he spoils you. You invited him to stay the night and now he’s laying next to you, tangled in your sheets with you tucked into his side, head on his arm. Your breathing leveled out twenty minutes ago and he’s been staring at the ceiling, his mind reeling with thoughts and daydreams, the kind he never wants to be rid of. He’s getting lost in thoughts of you and he starts whispering to himself.

“You’re just so perfect,” he whispers. “I never thought I’d get a second chance, and I found my second chance in you. I’ve known one person in my life to stay with me, and when I lost him I thought I lost everything.” He thought of Steve fondly, the ache of that loss numbed with time. He drew circles on your back lightly with his fingertips, feeling your warm skin beneath his.

“Doll, I don’t know who I am without you, and I don’t want to know.” His eyes drift in the darkness, his gaze dropping to you next to him and he kisses the top of your head. You stir from the contact but don’t wake up and he sighs, a small smile on his face.

“I love you,” he says aloud to you. The statement falls on deaf ears but Bucky considers it to be good practice.

—

The time Bucky tells you he loves you for the first time isn’t what he was planning.

You awake the next morning to find yourself spooning a pillow instead of the super soldier, confusion sweeping over your still half asleep face.

You hear the clamoring before you can put two and two together, metal on metal coming from the kitchen in your apartment. You stand and yawn, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you stumble out of your room clad in your pajamas from the night before. You step out into the light to find Bucky fumbling to plate some eggs he had cooked up.

“Hey handsome,” you slide into the kitchen behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he finishes up breakfast.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says huskily. His voice is still raspy from sleep. You smile and squeeze him before letting go and moving around to the other side of the bar, plopping down on a barstool. He slides a full plate to you, complete with eggs, toast and hash browns. You smile and thank him as you bite into the food, groaning in happiness.

“This is delicious.” You say enthusiastically and he laughs, taking a bite from his own plate. “What’s gotten into you?” You asked nonchalantly.

Bucky freezes when you ask the question. Had it been that obvious? He had struggled to find words around you lately and it was because there were only three that could accurately express what’s been on his mind lately. He opens his mouth to speak and shuts it again, unsure of where to go from here.

“Doll, I-,” he stops himself and clenches his jaw. He’s frustrated with himself but he’s so scared that he could break something so important with those words, something so precious to him. You look at him, doe eyed and expectant. He’s cute when he’s flustered, you think to yourself.

“Buck, whatever’s going on, you can tell me,” you say gently as you reach your arm across the countertop and weave your fingers through his vibranium ones. He swallows hard and blinks, his eyes look glassy and wet. You tilt your head, concern washing over you as you realize this might be something serious.

“I love you,” he blurts out and before he can stop his lips from forming the words, they’re already moving again, “I’ve loved you since I laid my eyes on you and I can’t get you out of my head, I don’t want to get you out of my head, and I have a track record of wanting things out of my head,” he chuckles as he rambles, “I don’t think I ever thought I’d get lucky enough to find you, but I know I’ll never let you go.” His voice becomes quieter now, more solemn as his gaze bores into you, looking for some reaction. He becomes panicked when the look on your face only reflects shock and you blink slowly.

He realizes his eyes have filled with tears only after one slips down his cheek and he hurriedly brushes it away. Your fingers are still laced with his and he gives a gentle squeeze, trying to prompt you into speaking. He’s busy containing the storm that rages inside when you sigh and one of your own tears falls down your cheek and you smile, a relieved, genuine, in love grin.

“God, Buck, you scared me!” You exclaim and laugh. Bucky turns his head, still nervous and now unsure of the situation. You stand from your seat at the bar and walk back around to stand in front of him. He swallows hard again as you look up into his eyes. “I thought it was something bad! I love you, too, you goof.” You said. His own grin breaks onto his face and his arms wrap around you, picking you up against his chest. You squeeze him back tightly. The grin is still smeared across your face as he kisses you with renewed ferocity and passion.

He’s told you he loves you. Now he needs to show you.

[tainted-wine]

Oh wow first of all please let me congratulate you on your skill and good taste. I absolutely adore all of your hawks writing. It's so good and also hilarious when you want it to be. I especially love how annoyed he seems to get with song birds, and that low-key makes me wonder how he would be with a reader w a songbird quirk. Like he wants to find her annoying so badly, and in some ways he does? But at the same time he knows they have a lot of shared experiences as ppl with bird mutation quirks and that's kind of nice for him? To have someone to share that with, you know? Idk.

You're super sweet, anon. ♥

(This turned into a messy ficlet thing)

I don't know why I decided to make Hawks a songbird hater; it’s just a headcanon I decided to stay consistent with for whatever reason.

I've actually gotten similar asks like this and I'm currently hoarding them all in the hopes of one day making something out of it, because I love this idea very much. Hawks views songbirds as obnoxious hopeless romantics. Do they really need to be that loud about their love? It's like having the top 100 love songs playing all at once.

He already admitted that you were pretty cute when you both first met. Your wings were smaller and required frequent and rapid flaps, the opposite of his large and soaring pair. Very cute, along with your shyness in approaching a bird of prey such as him, but he promises that he doesn't bite. Then your singing began...

It’s instinctual, you say. Once your fondness for him grew strong enough, the urge to vocalize your love in the form of a song specially made for him became impossible to fight. He’ll predictably tease you at first. Creating a melody straight from your heart, the sound of your voice perfectly simulating the strength of your bond, giving other listeners a mere taste of a relationship they could not have. It’s corny, it’s sappy...

It’s so freakin’ sweet.

He blamed your quirk at first. It had to be some secondary ability that attracted whoever you decided to sing about, like some bewitching siren. It’s a dumb accusation; he trusts that you’d never manipulate him like that. It may even ignite a petty argument or two, but in the end, Hawks will accept it. He loves your song.

As wonderful as it is to just listen, he feels that he needs to reciprocate, but what is he gonna do? Sing back?? He doesn’t know how to do that. His instincts were telling him to show his appreciation in another way. 

It’s instinctual, he says. He expresses the joy he feels around you by performing an amazing aerobatics show. It’s quite nerve-wracking at first. So many daring maneuvers — twirls, turns, dives, and flips — all just to impress you. And he has the gall to call songbird traditions excessive? So many of these moves could have killed him if he didn’t time them just right! It’s so dangerous, so reckless...

So spectacular.

As exciting as it was for the two of you to flaunt your natural skills, both of your rituals felt incomplete. You wanted Hawks to sing back. Hawks wanted you to dance beside him in the sky. One discussion later, you both decide on...a cultural exchange of sorts.

You want Hawks to sing? You want him to sing? Even after he promises you that his voice sounds more unsettling than the screeching of violins in a horror movie? Fine. You even protest when he mentions practicing. “Just sing from your heart,” you say. Ugh, whatever. He warned you.

At the crack of dawn, Hawks does everything as instructed. He joins your side at the top of the Fukuoka tower, and sings his heart out. He sounds terrible, he’s certain of it, but he ignores his blush of embarrassment and keeps going, letting his passion guide him like you told him. 

His song is everything you could’ve asked for. His voice was shrill, unsteady, and had absolutely zero technique. But it was so...him. So Keigo Takami. The melody carries his courage and compassion. His tone reveals uncertainty in his singing, but it also reveals the raw confidence in his love and devotion. It leaves your heart melting, and before you knew it, you were joining him in a duet, trying your best to harmonize with his...erm...unique vocals. The song went on as the sun rose, prompting several noise complaints about a ‘dying bird that needs to be put out of its damn misery already.’

You give the flustered hawk a hug and kiss for that beautiful masterpiece. You also make sure he doesn’t see those complaints. He already feels awkward enough about his performance.

Alright, now it’s your turn to feel anxious. Very anxious. As Hawks led you to the seaside park, he reminded you once again that he doesn’t expect you to pull off any expert moves in the air. “If you’re really not sure what to do, then just follow my lead. I won’t do anything crazy up there. This is about trust.”

You trust that he’ll save you if anything goes wrong, whether it be during the warm-up or during the....oof, you shudder just thinking about it.

The first act has you taking off over the water, warming up your wings before your own little stunt show begins. Knowing your body’s limits, you focus on flight patterns and speed, pushing your flying abilities further than you ever have before. It doesn’t even compare to Hawks’s amazing moves — you were too scared to even attempt any of those flips — but at least you pulled off a couple spins, and Hawks looks captivated while watching from below.

You tried not to look out of breath already when it was time for act two. Hawks took flight, passing you and heading upwards. You followed, mirroring every single one of his little tricks (he thankfully kept his promise of not doing anything crazy) as you both flew higher and higher until the air became uncomfortably thin. You’ve never been this high up before.

Reaching the desired altitude, Hawks took your hands and locked them in his, bringing you in close. He gives you a few light pecks while praising your skills. “I’ve never seen you zip around like that. Such a quick and clever little bird.” The flattery almost distracts you from the final act, the part you’ve been dreading the most.

The very idea of the Death Spiral still sounds utterly insane, even as you’re about to attempt it yourself.

All you do is hover and hold each other for a minute or two, then Hawks gives the unspoken cue. His wings fold in, you quickly follow suit, and you’re both plummeting down headfirst toward the water. You did end up screaming halfway down, but at least you were still able to remain fairly focused until the end. You were just a few meters away from impact when you and Hawks simultaneously released your grip, just barely righting yourself before you could make an embarrassing splash.

Hawks tackles you hard into the ground the second you’ve recovered, hugging you tightly and attacking with rapid fire kisses. 

“You did it, baby!” Kiss. “That was so intense!” Kiss. “I never thought I’d find someone to do the Spiral with!” Smooch. “You’re so brave. Thank you for trusting me!” Mwah. 

You’re shaking too violently and need to go find a bathroom immediately.

---

And that’s how you and Hawks became mates and learned to better respect each other’s bird traditions. Hawks now owns a songbird calender that hangs in his bedroom.

[nerdypengu]

Feeling good (oneshot)

Type: One shot Relationship: Al-an/you Written in: First Person

I got a lot of positive reactions on my post about subnautica (below zero) oneshots, so here you go! ((English is not my first language so please be gentle heheh))

If you have any prompts for me, they are very welcome!

__________________

I look at myself in the small mirror in the living quarters. My eyes are staring back at me, taking in my appearance. A couple of months have passed since I got on planet 4546B. My skin feels dry, just like my hair because of the salty water.  

Picking up a handmade brush, I bring it to my hair to pull out the tangles. Speaking of my hair... when was the last time I cut it? I can't even remember! It must have been a long time ago, because my hair is slowly reaching my elbows. Maybe I can try something new?

Soon enough, my eyes start to search around the room. “I notice you are pondering about something, can I ask you about what exactly?” the familiar architect voice echoes through my head. A small smile appears on my face as soon as I hear it.  

“Good morning to you too, Al-an" I say “Yes, I'm thinking about cutting my hair shorter. I don't really like it on me anymore”. “Cutting something off your body does not sound very positive. I do not encourage you to do it, for your but also my own safety” Al-an tells me.  

I start to chuckle at his response. I guess architects don't have hair, so they won't understand that cutting it off doesn't hurt. “Don't worry, cutting my hair off doesn’t bring us in any danger. The only thing that will happen is that this will become shorter” I explain to him, staring at myself in the mirror as I hold my hair “It doesn't have any nerves, so I can't damage it like that”.

I return with my search for the scissors as Al-an speaks “You said you did not like how it looked. Why are you concerned about your appearance? No other humans are here, so there is no need to search for a mating partner”.  

Snorting, I finally find what I was looking for “I'm not doing it for someone else!”. I start to walk back to the mirror and stare at myself again “Looking good can be a reason to look good for someone you like, but that's not always the case. It can also help to boost your confidence”.  

“Please elaborate” Al-an says, but I already guessed he wouldn't understand it immediately.  

“Humans want to feel comfortable in their own body's. It's who we are, so if you're not happy with how you look on the outside, you won't feel happy on the inside. Some people feel comfortable in dark clothes, others wear dresses, other people cut their hair or colour it. It all depends on the person” I try to explain it the best I can.  

“It's also very... delightful to hear that you look good or pretty or even beautiful by others” I finish, trying to use some words Al-an can understand better “Hearing that can make people very happy”. “So, if a person is comfortable in their body... they will become happier. Am I correct?” Al-an asks eventually and I nod “Yeah, something like that!”.  

Slowly, I lift the scissors up to my hair and after taking a deep breath, I cut it. At first, long strands of hair fall down to the ground, but later they change into small hairs that tickle you when they come underneath your shirt.  

I've never cut my own hair before, and I also never tried short hair. I just tried to remember how it looked like on others.  

“Why did you choose to cut your hair short?” Al-an asks and I stop moving my scissors. “I never tried it before, and my hair keeps getting stuck in everything. It's starting to get a little frustrating” I mumble, pulling a hand through my much shorter hair. It's now reaching a little over my ears.  

“This is the first time you said something about your body that is inefficient. I must say I am surprised” Al-an says, his monotonous voice indeed sounding a bit different than usual. My eyes widen at that before I start laughing.  

Al-an keeps silent as I chuckle while finishing up my hair. These are the pleasant silences between us that we have. Most of the time, Al-an is just taking in what I'm doing to tries and learn about it. Sometimes it's the other way around, when he told me about architect culture.  

I shake my head a little bit and pull my hand through to fluff it up a little “Do you like it?”. “I highly approve of your new appearance, yes” Al-an responds, making me chuckle again.  

Sometimes it's frustrating how he responds, but it can also be kind of adorable. He simply doesn't know how to informally speak with me, even though we’re friends. Closer than friends?  

Al-an soon starts to speak again, pulling me back from my thoughts “I even think you look... beautiful”.  

Immediately, I start to blush and look away from the mirror “Thank you, Al-an".

[hxlyhead-harpies]

You Weren’t Mine To Lose

Pairing: Hermione x reader

Summary: The reader loves Hermione and Hermione loves Ron

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1.3k

A/n: i wrote this for @teheharrypotter ‘s 2 weeks of angst!!! i hope you like it!! i also used some prompts from a request because i felt like it fit

The moment that Lavender jumped into his arms and kissed him, you saw Hermione’s heart break. Her eyes immediately filled with tears and she pushed through the crowd, desperate to rip herself away from the tortuous sight. You exchanged a knowing look with Harry before you ran after her, desperate to comfort your best friend. 

You knew how much she liked Ron, her having told you late one night at Grimmauld Place. Her confession had stung of course. You had been half in love with Hermione since your fourth year when you had zipped up her Yule Ball dress for her. She made your heart flutter with her brilliant smiles and enthusiastic intelligence. But despite this you pushed it away, not wanting to risk ruining what you already had. And it was clear that Hermione would never like you. Her heart already belonged to Ron. 

When you found her in an empty classroom with tears running down her face your knees nearly buckled underneath you. Seeing her so broken made your heart ache more than you could say. 

“Oh ‘Mione,” you breathed, causing her to wipe her eyes and look up. 

“I’m fine,” she tried to assure you as you sat beside her on the floor. You just pulled her into a hug, leading her head to rest against your chest. 

“I know you, Hermione, you’re not fine,” you said. “He’s an idiot.” Hermione let out a strangled laugh. 

“No, I’m the idiot. I somehow got it into my head that he possibly liked me. I feel like a fool,” she murmured with a sniffle. You leaned back so you could look at her fully, your hand cupping her cheek. 

“If anyone here is a fool it’s him. He has no idea what he’s missing out on,” you said. Hermione averted her eyes. 

“You’re unbelievably smart, the brightest witch of our age. You’re kind and your brave. Not to mention that you’re gorgeous,” you assured her. Hermione finally looked into your eyes, her lips parting slightly. 

“I’m not gorgeous. At least not like Lavender. My hair is too frizzy and my eyebrows are too thick-” she rambled on.

“Hermione no,” you interrupted. “You are gorgeous. Your eyes are the prettiest shade of amber that I’ve ever seen and I’m beyond envious of your eyelashes.” Hermione’s cheeks began to heat up under your palm. 

“And you have amazing cheekbones”- you moved your thumb to trace across them- “and the most adorable freckles across your nose. And you have this dimple on your left side that drives me absolutely mad,” you whispered. Her eyes had gone wide as you spoke and traced your finger across her features. 

“Do you mean that?” she asked softly. Your gaze snapped back to hers as if you had been knocked out of a trance. You realized quickly what you had admitted and you began to tilt away.

“I- um… sorry,” you sputtered. Before you could lean too far back Hermione lunged forward, firmly pressing her lips against yours. 

Her lips were soft and tasted sweet, just as you had always imagined. You wasted no time leaning closer, grabbing her waist and deepening the kiss. Soon her hands were in your hair. 

The moment was broken when Lavender and Ron stumbled into the room, the former giggling erratically. You and Hermione broke apart quickly to meet the eyes of the others. Lavender was shocked as she gripped Ron’s hand, a slightly apologetic look in her eyes. Ron however looked tense. His lips were drawn into a hard line and his eyes were swimming with an emotion you easily recognized. It was a feeling you had felt every time that Hermione had mentioned the boy’s name: jealousy.

“I think this room is occupied,” Lavender said nervously, trying to tug Ron out of the room. Ron scoffed. 

“Clearly,” he spat out before storming out with Lavender. You stole a quick glance at Hermione. You didn’t know what you expected her to be feeling but when you looked at her your stomach dropped. She was smirking slightly with a triumphant look in her eyes. As if she had just beaten Ron at some sort of game.

For weeks after that you found yourself holding hands with Hermione in the halls or stealing kisses before classes. It felt like a dream. Her hand fit into yours perfectly and every kiss was as perfect as the first. But before long you realized that these interactions only happened in the presence of a certain someone. 

It wasn’t hard to figure out that Hermione was slightly taking advantage of your affection for her. You didn’t doubt that she wanted to kiss you, but it seemed more like she needed someone and you just happened to be there. It stung unbelievably badly, the realization that your feelings were still mostly one sided, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put a stop to it. You basked in her affection too much to care about your own self-destruction. 

You sat in the Library with Hermione, a book of charms in front of you. But you paid no mind to the book, only paying attention to how Hermione scrunched up her nose as she read. It was a beautiful sight, truly. 

The sound of a familiar giggle caught your attention and you turned to see Lavender and Ron stumble into the library. Hermione’s head shot up and once she caught sight of Ron she reached for your hand across the table. Ron’s eyes zeroed in on your intertwined fingers and you watched as Hermione seemed to send him a boastful smirk that made your stomach churn. Ron clenched his jaw and looked away. Hermione stared back down at her book with a self-satisfied look on her face and you felt as if you might be sick. 

You snatched your hand away as if her touch was burning you. Hermione glanced at you with a curious expression as you shoved your books away.

“Where are you going?” she asked with furrowed brows. 

“Away from you,” you spat before sprinting out of the library. 

You heard Hermione follow after you as you sped off onto the grounds. You desperately wished that she would leave you alone but it seemed that she was determined to corner you somewhere. 

“What is the matter with you?” she questioned as you came to a halt near Hagrid’s pumpkin patch. You violently spun around to face her, tears stinging behind your eyes. 

“I can’t do this anymore!” you exclaimed. Hermione froze and blinked rapidly as she tried to understand what you meant. “This!” you yelled, motioning between the two of you. She stepped forward but you flinched. 

“I don’t understand,” Hermione whispered. You scoffed and shook your head. 

“I can’t keep following you around like a lost puppy while you just try to make Ron jealous,” you huffed, causing Hermione to look away in shame. 

“I- I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Hermione said. 

“What did you think was going to happen? Playing with my feelings like this?” you questioned harshly. Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her hair. 

“I didn’t realize that you actually liked me,” she tried to explain.

“How can someone so smart be so daft,” you spat, “how could you not see that I’m impossibly in love with you and have been for some time?” Hermione stilled, the reality of your words sinking in. 

“You love me?” she whispered softly. You nodded and looked away.

“And do you want to know the most horrible part? The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you,” you admitted with your voice full of venom. Hermione gaped at you, clearly unsure of what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally settled upon, not looking you in the eye. You stared at the girl who had stolen your heart and simultaneously smashed it, taking in every strand of her hair and freckle on her cheeks. You feared this would be the last time you ever got a good look at her. 

“You should be.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tag list: @theweasleysredhair @spn-marvel-nerd @gloryekaterina @mytreec @levylovegood @inglourious-imagines @whatwoulddracodo @pattinsons-films @liilyevanss @kashishwrites @wonderful-writer @accio-prozac @sarcasticallywitty15 @lawsandother @teheharrypotter @hannolannno @flowercrownchic @chaoticgirl04 @kiwi-sloan @miss-fuck-the-world @durmstrange @aspiringsloth20 @breadqueen95 @ellyseveronica @layaa-layaaa @ultrabuzzlightyear

[infinitegalahad]

DON'T LET THE SUN GO DOWN ON ME

Summary: The one time Joe Toye saved you and the one time you saved Joe Toye.

Word-Count: 3.1k

WARNINGS: PLEASE READ! attempted suicide, descriptions of assault, blood/bruising, angst with a happy ending

A/N: Inspired by this post! When I was reading this and listening to Elton John, it hit me like a bus. It's not one of my best works, but I hope you enjoy! :)

Tag-list: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne @capsparkyspeirs

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

Toye was one of the toughest sunva’ bitches (Guarnere’s words) that you had ever met. Tall, dark, and brooding, easy company respected and feared him. He had a gloomy expression and zero-tolerance from bullshit from anyone and anything. The number of fights you had seen him get into, the way he’d hold the collar of a soldier’s shirt, or simply the look of disappointment would make anyone shit their pants. You were a visual learner and always associated the men of easy company with the weather. Joe Toye to you was like a gloomy storm cloud, thunder booming behind it.

Unlike Joe Toye, a gloomy storm cloud, you were a ray of sunshine. The war was a tough time for all the man and your mere presence would shine brighter than a thousand stars. A natural smile always donned your face, and the men simply loved it. Your sweet voice was like a lullaby to them. Whenever they needed someone to be vulnerable with, you always had their backs as a close friend. You had always been someone who had tried to find the positive in life, despite it being hard. Your smiles and bright attitude had earned you the nickname of “sunshine” or for short, “sunny”. You wore the name with pride and whenever one of the men of easy company would call you it, a smile would grow as you’d shake your head. The men of easy company adored the ray of light you brought to the company.

Despite the differences, even if you were scared shitless of Joe Toye, he made one thing clear around the company; that nobody would hurt you.

Joe wasn’t one for nicknames or social interaction. You had talked to him a few times, but it was brief. His brooding appearance was intimidating and yet strangely so prepossessing to you. You knew that opposites attracted. Whether it be his dark features or the way he’d growl in his low voice, it would always make your cheeks warm.

He wouldn’t have to speak. If someone had been bothering you or making lewd remarks, he simply hovered over you. You’d see the man who’d be bothering you, looking like he had just pooped his pants, scram away. You turned to thank Toye, but he’d be gone in a flash. It made you feel guilty. You wanted to thank him-but he always slipped out of your fingers.

You confronted about the Toye's attribute. Guarnere would look at you and give you a little goose laugh, stating the same phrase.

“Means he’s gotta a lil’ crush on yah, sunny. Ain’t want nobody to hurt this girl.”

“But that’s what I’m confused about!” You would exclaim in frustration, “Why doesn’t he let me say thank you? Why does he only nod his head when I say hi? Why does he look at me and smile, but then he looks away? Why does he-“

“Jeez laweez girl!” Guarnere would interpret your little rant and pat your shoulder, “I got sisters, I know what I’m doin”. Just let it play out.”

Letting out a groan of frustration, you’d bury your hands in your face and let out a loud groan. It was simply hopeless. You were in the middle of a war, and Toye and you knew that love had no place in war. You were probably an annoying babbling idiot in Toye’s view.

But little did you know-Toye thought differently of you. There was something about you that would turn his face and show his dimples whenever you’d cheer up a soldier or help out a friend. Toye didn’t understand how you could be so damn cheery all the time, but something about you made him do something he had trouble doing-smiling.

———

The first time Joe Toye saved you was in Aldbourne.

You had been having trouble sleeping most nights. One night, you couldn’t stand twisting and turning in bed, so you opted for a late night walk. Aldbourne was a quaint town, and you knew that there were no threats surrounding you. If one of the men of Easy had found out, they’d be horrified, but you knew that you were capable of taking care of yourself.

There was not a single noise in the small town. It was an odd hour in the early morning with the fog covering Aldbourne with the sky still being pitch black. Wrapping your large jacket around your body, you looked down as you wandered down the road.

Joe had been acting strange lately. He was more distant from the crowds, simply avoiding all conversations, all but you. It wasn’t that he followed you around, but he looked after you. He spent his time around you. It was the first time you didn’t seem him as irritated or annoyed, at least when he was around you. Whenever Luz would look at or simply tease him, his face would scrunch your and he’d stand up to go give the company’s comedian a piece of his mind. You’d sigh and gently grab his arm, holding him back.

Normally, Joe would ignore you and move on. Nobody’s opinion mattered to him.

But with you-he felt like his whole world shifted. Your soft face and gentle touch would enchant him.

A grumble would escape Joe’s lips as he turned around to sit down. He’d mumbled something in your ear, in which didn’t mean much at the moment to you,

“What would the company do without you, y/n?”

Nobody ever called you by your real name except for two people; Eugene Roe and Joe Toye.

In the corner of your eye, you’d see a faint smile. It wouldn’t be caught by anyone by you.

You were prideful in yourself. You, making Joe Toye smile. Nobody would believe you. Maybe you had been the only one who caught onto it-but you were the sunshine of easy company. Joe Toye was a cloud who was almost dark and gloomy, and you were the sun that would outshine him.

Sure, it was childish, but it still made your cheeks warm up and a smile grow on your face. You were in the middle of a war, and making someone smile or happy was your job.

As you walked through the night, the muffled voices of sobs and curses could be heard. Buried in the collar of your jacket, you raised your head. The pained noises were coming from further down the road. You picked up your pace and hurried down the road to see one of the men in another company. He wasn’t someone you knew well, but you were familiar with it. His voice and mannerisms identified him as Lowery.

Lowery sat slunched under a lamppost, sobbing with a few broken bottles surrounding him. His cries of pain and curses only made your head break.

“Lowery…?” You whispered, loud enough for him to hear you.

Lowery still had his face in his hands but stopped his loud sobs. “Y/n...that’s you?” He said in a slurred tone, completely intoxicated.

“Yes, it’s me.” You said as you walked over and bent down to put a hand on his shoulder, “Do you know where you are?”

Lowery didn’t respond and simply looked down into his hands. You knew he would need some assistance getting back to his barracks and some water to ease him.

“Come on,” You gently stated as you grabbed his shoulders, “Let’s get you back”.

Out of nowhere, Lowery sprinted up and grabbed you, spinning you and pinning you to the lamppost. His hands attempted to grab your neck and you fought them off, screaming for help. One of his hands held your hands together as he dug through his holster to pull out his jump knife.

“You fucking tramp, shut your damn mouth.” He hissed, spit forming through your mouth. With a firm grasp on the knife, his feet stomped onto the soles on your boots as he began to slowly drag the knife towards your stomach. “Always smiling and acting all prissy and shit. If you this doesn’t shut you up, then I don’t know what wi-“

Suddenly, Lowery’s cheek was met with a pair of brass knuckles. He groaned in pain, holding his bloody cheek. Seeing your opportunity to escape, you wobbled away and fell down in shock. Covered by the darkness, you managed to make out two figures. Lowery, on the ground, and another tall figure making his way towards Lowery.

The rough voice made it clear that it was none other than Joe Toye.

Toye grabbed Lowery and dragged him to the lamppost, pinning him with a single hand choking this throat. Lowery’s skin has gone pale, covered in blood as he struggled to breathe.

“Damn you, Lowery. You ever threaten y/n again and I’ll kill you. Got it? I’ll kill you,” Joe had spat out at Lowery. Lowkey didn’t respond and he punched him again, except on the next cheek, making sure to leave him brushed and bloodied.

“I’ll kill you!” He hissed, and Lowery began to nod. The second time Joe spoke made you jump out of your little shock. Pushing yourself up from the mud, you began to run down the road away from Toye and Lowery. Toye had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

As you ran, it took you a second to stick it together. In the barracks, there was another empty bed and it had to have been Toye’s. You had told him about your late night walks and he wasn’t over the moon about them, scolding you as a father does to a child. Toye was worried about you, being a woman, getting attacked or lost or anything bad happening to you. You would smile and sway your shoulder, saying that you were fine.

Next time, you were going to listen to Joe Toye’s advice since he had saved your life.

———

The second time, you had saved Joe Toye’s life also in Aldbourne.

You had all been sitting in a pub. It was a typical Friday night; the men were drinking, laughing, and chatting about whatever was new. You sat at the edge of the bar, swirling your beer in your hand. The incident that had happened a few nights ago was still fresh in your mind. There were visible bruise marks on the side of your neck and hands. They burned and hurt, but there was nothing you could do. The memories were still fresh in your mind, and it made you go quiet. You had told the members of Easy about the occurrence, but left out the part of Toye.

He must have followed you to witness the attack. It creeped out you, but then again, you shouldn't had told him of your midnight walks. In a way, it was a brave and kind action of Toye. If hadn’t been there, Lowery could have hurt you or even worse-killed you. But you felt guilty for running off like a coward, not thanking him for saving your life.

You saw Toye around, but he always avoided you and the men. He was usually standoffish, but it had become more noticeable. He would prefer to be on his own, not bothered by anyone, even you or Luz. Luz attempted to converse with Toye, but Toye looked at him, grumbled, and walked away. Luz looked defeated and you would sit by his side to comfort him.

“It’s just Toye,” You would say, even though you were uncertain, “Sure he’s in a funk.”

You had seen Toye head out to take a leak, but he hadn’t returned in an hour. Slugging by the end of the bar, you looked at the ticking clock as the hands would slowly move by. He had been gone for a strange amount of time, and it was beginning to worry you. Aldbourne was a safe town, but what if? It had happened to you, it could happen to anyone, even someone was frighting as Joe Toye.

Since the men were either too distracted or drunk, you put your foot down and chose to go after Toye. Going up the stairs, you went to each floor and looked for him, but found nothing. Your worry began to increase as you began to pick up your pace and check every room for a sing-yet you found none. On the highest floor, you noticed that a door had been opened. It had to have been Toye-nobody else would go up this bar. Walking up the small staircase, you were greeted upon the night sky and the roof of an atrium. The roof was made of glass, held up chicken wire. Joe stood in at the edge, looking down. He hadn’t even noticed your presence as he took slow steps towards the edge.

Realizing, your heart dropped as you took slow steps, “Joe!” You called, panic in your voice. There was no response from him.

You chose to become louder, “Toye, it’s y/n. Look at me.”

Still, nothing but silence. You could see his head tilt down to look at the three stories below him. Tears began to form in your eyes. No, he couldn’t.

“Toye!” You yelled as the wind threw a big gust. “I know you can hear. Look at me. Please.”

Just as his foot was about to hang off of the edge, he froze in place. The voice was familiar. Hearing a voice he associated with happiness become distorted made his brain freeze. He became paralyzed. Letting out a shuttered sigh, he redacted his foot and turned to look at you.

Like you, Toye looked different. He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt anybody or intimating; but like a scared child. His dark eyes were red and puffy. Everything that you needed to know was right in front of you. Holding your hand out, your fingers bent, signaling Toye to come forward.

You murmured under your lips, “Let’s go.”

Toye turned around and walked over the atrium. Joe looked like hell as he  grabbed your hand, grasping onto as his life depended on it. You carefully lead him down the stairs. Reaching the end of the stairs, he did something you would have never imagined him ever doing. It was  human emotion that most men felt, but you never thought Joe Toye would do it.

Joe fell onto his knees, crying. Big tears falling down his face. His burly, worked hands glided up against the side of your legs. It took you back. You couldn't believe he was in tears. Just a minute ago he was standing on the edge of an atrium to a three-story drop and there he was, crying as he held onto your legs for comfort.

So you did what you did best for the men of easy company. Bending down, you wrapped your arms around his back as you gently ran them down his back.

“Yeah, you’re okay,” You whispered into his shoulder, “Let it all out. I was worried about you.” When you got Joe to look at you, you cupped a hand on his cheek. “Why did you go up there?”

Joe shook his head, unable to use words. You patted his cheeks in reassurance, “Well, we were all worried. I was worried about you. What would I have done without you?”

Inhaling, he tilted his head down as he pulled you close. His head rested in your stomach as he began to speak. “I don’t know what I would’ve done with you. I don’t know what got into me...It just seemed like an escape. But you came and put me back in the right place. Saved me from myself.”

“Consider it a favor returned,” You mentioned. Toye looked up at you, he knew about the night just like you did.

“By the way, thank you.” You thanked him as your hands rested on his shoulders, “I ran away only because I was scared…”

Joe’s face softened at your worry. You shook your head and clarified, “Not of you, I just...yeah. I was a little shaken up.”

Seeing your hesitance, Joe’s fingers touched your chin to lift it. His fingers ran over the developing bruise marks. His hand rested on your waist as he pulled you closer.

“They’re not as bad as you think.”

“Bullshit.” Toye hissed. You took his hands as he held them, “If I see that fucker again, he’ll be a dead man. Someone’s gonna fuckin’ die.”

Seeing the tension rise, you patted his shoulders as he looked up at you with a disappointed face. “Joe, I understand. But, I don’t want you to get hurt as well. Don’t it for me...Please?”

Looking up and down, Joe buried his head once again in your stomach and grumbled grumpily, “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

As his head rested, you brought your hands to stroke his dark hair. You hummed in response, “How so?”

“You’re so damn smiley all the time. Thought it was because you were a woman, but that ain’t it. You’re just a good person-and that’s hard to find now,” Joe hinted at. It was a confession of love, in his own way. You knew what he was trying to say. You smiled down at him and stroked his cheek, in which he laid into. “I don’t know, I just like being’ ‘round you. You make me a better person.”

“That’s the point of my nickname, Toye.” You stated, “You know I’m here for you. You know that I love you, right?”

Toye nodded his head as he stood up and held your hands, “Yeah, I do. From the first day I saw you.”

The two of you began to talk down the staircase, hand in hand. You tilted your head, a smile on your face.

“You're joking! I thought you hated me. Always thought you did.”

Toye shrugged his shoulders, “It’s hard to hate somebody as kind as you, doll. Just promise me one thing.”

You looked over at him and nodded. The two of you stopped at the door before entering back into the busy bar.

“Yes, Joe.”

“Don’t let the sun go down on me.”

Little did you know, those words would stick with you and Toye for the rest of the war. From Toccoa to Aldbounre to Brecourt to Bastogne-that was your phrase. You were the sun to Toye’s cloud. You brought the light instead of him, and he became a better person from your sheer positivity. Through hell and back, no matter what, you had kept your promise to Toye-Till death do you part.

[fckwritersblock]

Act 1: While We’re Young

Chapter 3

Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black OC

(Unedited.)

Warning: since I deemed Wednesday my update, day....don’t hate me for this. Oh and steam....and angst if you turn around, bend down and look between your legs, tilt your head to the side and squint

16 year old Alona 17 year old Erik

September 9th, 1997

West Oakland, Ca

Over the next five years the two remained close; bonding over their lack of parents bringing them closer. Erik had been placed with an aunt from his mothers side. His aunt never had children but always wanted them. Thankfully she stayed in Oakland too. Though it was East Oakland, Erik still managed to go to school in the West since he refused to go anywhere Alona wasn't.

While Erik always looked out for her, he also taught her how to defend herself. Young Erik was no stranger to fighting. If you looked at him wrong he'd beat your ass to make sure you never did again. He was both book and street smart. Having 4.0 GPA didn't mean you couldn't catch these hands.

Respectfully.

"You gon mess around a get yourself arrested, stupid." Alona would scold him on their walks home after many fights.

He had just gotten rougher as he gotten older, while she became softer, more feminine.

Not to mention a hell of a lot prettier.

And all he boys noticed. Especially with Alona's most recent glow up. She had always been that ‘cute kid’, but now? It seemed as if puberty was hitting her with brick after brick all summer break, because when she came back from vacation in Louisiana with her family, Alona was easily the prettiest senior at Oakland Tech Highschool. While It was unwanted attention, it gained her, her own popularity...and she became the crush of her very best friend.

Erik Stevens had a massive crush on Alona Davis. He'd known it for about a year now but refused to act on it.

Until recently.

The two had been studying for the past hour at his aunts house. Really it was just her, since Erik didn't really feel the need to especially since they didn't have school tomorrow. But Thursday's was usually there's study day and he didn't want to break tradition. So there they were in his room backpacks and books over his bed, while they each sat against the way. He was perpendicular to her, her legs draped over his; a book and pen in her hand and a football in his.

"Dang girl, skippin' a grade not enough for you?" He teased poking her dimple prompting her to roll her eyes.

"Didn't you ask for my help?" She poked him in his side knowing he was ticklish.

"Ay girl!" He jumped away from her as she giggled.

"Oh that funny?"

"Boy you better not-" Alona began while shutting her book, eyes cutting at him.

But it was too late. He snatched her up before she could get off the bed and began tickling her sides. Laughter filled the room and Erik smirked at her attempts to stop him.

"Come on, stop," she laughed and he paused.

"Say it." At this she rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm not-" when he started to tickle her again she changed her tune.

"Ok, ok, N'Jadaka is the king of the world." She panted out of breath sitting up a bit.

"What I thought." He smirked down at her.

As things calmed down, both of them slowly noticed the compromising positing they were in. If his aunt or her granny had found them like this, they'd both be beating black and blue. They were alone though. His aunt was conveniently working the late shift and wouldn't be in for another 5 hours at least.

His heart raced.

Her nerves were shot.

His head dipped down.

Her eyes slowly began to close.

His eyes zeroed in on her lipgloss covered lips.

Screw it, he thought being the one to make the first move as he roughly placed his lips on hers. Immediately she kissed him back her arms wrapping around his neck as he pulled her body closer to his. It wasn't her first kiss, though he was her first at 13, and she had a boyfriend - one Erik despised- but this was new territory for them. She had the biggest crush on her best friend as well; He was unknowingly in love with her. She undoubtedly felt the same.

Time moved slowly, and soon his shirt was off and so was hers, leaving her in nothing but a black bra as she straddled him. Her hands traced the small dips in his back as he trailed kisses along her neck. Lona let out a small moan grinding into him a bit.

Her pager snapped them out of it.

Reluctantly she untangled herself from him and found her glasses before grabbing the device and reading the message.

"Crap I've got to." Alona looked over to him, thankful her blush wasn't as apparent on her chocolate complexed cheeks. "We're suppose to leave in 2 hours and I've got to finish packing."

Erik just nodded, handing her her shirt as she mumbled a 'thank you' which he thought was adorable.

Quietly the two gathered her papers and books and put them away just how he knew she liked. When she had everything, he gently took her hand taking his sweet time walking her to the door.

Neither said a word, both stuck in the own thoughts. Alona was the first to break it upon noticing the way Erik was staring at her side profile.

"What are you looking at," she asked a slight told in her head.

"You. I just wanna remember you just like this. In all your beauty. Glasses and all." He tucked one of her coils back in its place.

With a blush and a small smile she hesitantly leaned forward before placing one last kiss upon his lips. Erik savored this moment, for he knew it be the last.

"I'll see you on Monday, N'Dajaka,"

He felt a slight loss when their hands disconnected and watched as she disappeared behind the wooden door.

Erik was fully aware he was moving this weekend. The weekend she'd be going to Sacramento for her family reunion. He wasn't scared of anyone or anything , for he knew the challenges he'd have to face to get where he was going. Erik was by no means a coward.

Except when it came to this.

He couldn't tell her he was leaving. His aunt Mag had finally given up on him and was sending him to even greater distant relative to stay in Harlem. It had been 2 weeks he had known this was going to happen, yet he refused to watch the heartbroken look she'd don once he broke the news. It wasn't like he had a choice. No, things were much better off this way.

He never really did goodbye's anyway.

———————

Alona is my baby and I just knowwwww shorty gonna be heart broken 😩

Anywho...see y’all on Wednesday? 😬😅

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