#all my friends hate it and it kills my stomach but it tastes bloody good

[hughiecampbelle]

Kimiko Getting Attached To You Would Include:

Requested: Heeeeey! Could I request some fluffy familial headcannons please for Kamiko from the boys being like a twin sibling figure to reader? Like r is apart of the boys and Kamiko grows attached to them like a sibling and just looks into their dynamics? - anon

A/N: My love for Kimiko is *unmatched*!!! Thank you for requesting my love! I hope you like it! I'd love more headcanon and preference requests for The Boys!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Requests are open! 🔮

Kimiko was wary of everyone from the beginning

You were careful, not wanting to scare her away, so you kept your distance

You think everyone's out when you play your music, humming and singing along, when she appears out of nowhere

Everyone hated your music. They hated it even more when you sang along. So, you only did it when you were alone, blaring it loudly. When you notice Kimiko you jump, apologizing for bothering her

She just shakes her head, finding the nearest pad of paper. "I like it" she writes and smiles

It's the first show of humanity she's seen from any of you. Butcher was violent and M.M. worried too much, Frenchie had a crush on her and Hughie was pretty subservient. You were different. You weren't scared of her, you weren't intimidated, and you didn't look at her like you wanted to kiss her. You have interests and passions outside of murder. It's new and strange

You show her more from your playlists. It's your only talking point, so you sorta run with it. She gives you thumbs up/down, makes faces when she especially likes or doesn't like them. You try not to nerd out when your favorites play, but you just can't help yourself

When everyone comes back you turn it off, but the connection you made stays

Slowly, she starts to show an interest in you

At first it feels like light stalking: watching you and following you. She's getting to know you, know what makes you tick and smile and laugh

She learns you have poor taste in movies, but excellent taste in music. Puns make you laugh more than they should. Aside from your personal history with Vought, you wouldn't hurt a fly. She decides, in that moment, you'd make a good friend. Ally is the first word that comes to mind, but what she really means is friend

You pick up on her sign language as fast as you can, relying on writing pads or texts when you can't understand

Joking around with her, trying to get her more comfortable around you

"You think Butcher ever washes that coat?"

"Never."

When you really get to know one another, she tells you about her childhood and her brother

In return, you tell her your history with Vought and The Seven and Homelander

Neither of you are particularly proud of what you've done, but you recognize it was out of survival

Always being paired together

With her abilities and your intelligence, you're an unbeatable duo

The Boys start referring to you as Bonnie and Clyde. You're rarely seen without the other

Kimiko does everything she can to protect you. You weren't given V, you're smart and witty and you can get yourself out of a tough situation, but you're human. You're fragile. The thought of being without you would kill her

When you do get hurt she panics. She "yells" at the others to save you, to help, and they do, but it's never good enough for her

"They botched your stitches."

"A scar isn't the end of the world."

You never get used to seeing Kimiko all torn up or bloody. You know she'll get better, but it still makes you sick to your stomach to witness

You know exactly how to make her smile, even when somethings happened and she retreats into herself. She does the same with you

When no one can reach either of you, your friends are at a loss

Going under cover and pretending to be a couple. Neither of you are interested in the other like that, but it's always fun to put on a show

You definitely make fun of her when she wears a dress and heels

"You look like an actual girl!"

"Shut up!"

You never go anywhere without telling the other where. The rest of your friends just assume you've run off, but Kimiko will always know where and why you're leaving

"Where's y/n?"

"I don't know."

"Liar."

"I won't snitch."

When you or her have nightmares, you know you can go to the other

"Bad dream?"

"Yup."

Listening to music together, hoping the images of the nightmare will go away

She likes when you sing. It's off key and not very good, but she finds a lot of comfort in your voice

Encouraging her to go to speech therapy. Not for you or anyone else, but because it would be good for her

Kimiko doesn't ever get sick, but when you are she's incredibly attentive and extremely worried

"You're burning up."

"I'm okay, I promise."

Coming to one another's defense when others get in your face. She's the first to start "yelling" at them when they criticize you

Being asked if you like-like one another at least once a week. Annie assumes you secretly have feelings for one another and Frenchie gets pretty jealous of your relationship, but it's just not how you see one another

She's your twin flame. Not a girlfriend, but you do love her. You love her more than anyone else. You understand one another better than anyone else

[ghoulsanderson]

Scene from a scrapped fic before I delete the doc

“That’s me.” He grinned and moved to duck behind a few boxes, but Vecna already had a hand outstretched and lifted Mike off the floor without touching him, “Hey!!” Mike yelled, but he didn’t have the chance to say anything more as he was thrown like a ragdoll into the hard wooden walls.

He hit the wall hard.

Mike hit the wall so hard he couldn’t even yelp. He fell to the floor limp, warmth seeping around the back of his head, soaking into his hair, and by some grace of god, conscious. But his vision was blurred as if he were wearing the wrong pair of glasses, and he couldn’t move.

As his mind cleared from the impact, Mike tried desperately to regain control, but he could barely twitch his fingers. All he could do was lay and listen to his own beating heart filling his ears like he was underwater and taste the coppery blood trickling down his throat like saliva.

Fuck fuck get up! He thought desperately as the ground started to rumble with approaching footsteps. For fuck sake, please let me move!

Mike blinked rapidly to clear his vision, choking slightly as his breathing sped up with every nearing thud. He whimpered when his vision cleared to a familiar, grey figure hovering over him, “You always are the wrench in my plans.” Vecna growled.

Mike coughed, sending blood erupting from his throat and splattering across his face. It’s my talent. He thought, and judging by the clenched fists, Vecna heard him.

But he finally rolled onto his side, letting the blood dribble down his chin, “I should have killed you.”

Mike groaned as feeling resorted to his body, but with feeling came agony, and a tortured wail burst out of his throat as he extended his working arm and pushed his legs, trying to get away. But it did little good. His limbs still refused to listen to him, and the more he slithered, the harder it became.

Mike glanced down and cursed weakly as blood joined the smears of dirt in his Hellfire shirt, spilling across the previously white fabric. Had one of his ribs broken and pieced his skin? That had to be it. Now he thought about it, he could feel the bone sticking out.

He stopped thinking about it and pushed harder to crawl toward the door.

“You are nothing but a waste of air. An embodiment of all I hate about humanity.” Vecna hissed, stalking him slowly like a predator, cocky and lazy. They both knew Mike couldn’t escape, even if he could sprint. Even if he could fly.

“Fuck you.” Mike gasped out as he crawled away on his stomach, leaving behind a trail of blood.

Vecna cackled like a witch, taking a sudden and quick step forward that had Mike flinching away with a whimper, half expecting to be chucked across the room again, “But you won’t be able to help your friends again.”

Mike sobbed weakly, pushing himself a little harder even if it ignited fiery pain coursing through every inch of him, “What are you g-going to do?” He scoffed, tears cascading down his cheeks as he reached a bloodied hand for the door, “Kill me?”

Vecna grinned, waiting until Mike’s hand was through the gap between the door and the doorframe, “No.” He waved his hand, slamming the door shut on Mike’s hand and holding it shut as a series of sickening breaks rang out, and Mike screamed his throat hoarse, trying and failing to tug his hand free, “But I’ll make you pay.”

“Stop!” Mike screamed, rattling his own eardrums with his shrill screeches, “Fuck! Stop it stop it- shit- let me go! Let me fucking go!”

He couldn’t even feel the flaring pain in his dislocated shoulder as he smacked the ground with his free hand, writhing as the door crushed his bones, “Fuck!” He shrieked. The pain was making him crazy, pulling apart his brain like a knot.

Vecna finally let the door go, and for a moment, it was like a breath of fresh air until he yanked the broken hand to his chest and looked down to see blotches of black and twilight purple like the shades of a midnight sky, “Shit shit shit…” He sobbed, head to the floor, he curled into a ball.

It felt like he’d dipped his hand in acid. It throbbed and twinged and shook so hard it was like it was vibrating, “Y-You broke my f-fucking hand!” Mike spat, his ribs creaking as he hyperventilated, choking on his tears, “W-Why don’t you just kill me, you psycho?!”

“I should have,” Vecna scoffed down at the boy writhing on the floor, “But kill you, kill the illusion, and I’d like to keep William distracted for a little while longer.”

Mike glared through a wall of tears, “Don’t you fucking touch him!” He wailed, breaking into sobs as he tried to push himself up.

Vecna shook his head and leaned down, running his fingers through Mike’s hair with a coo who sunk down again, whimpering as he failed to recoil from the touch, “Don’t you worry. You won’t be around to see it.”

His claw tightened, wrenching a scream out of Mike as he lifted him by his hair, dragging him out of the door and down the attic steps, “Let me go!” Mike yelled, kicking his legs to no avail, “You slimy fuck!”

Vecna scowled, reeling his arm back to toss Mike down the remaining steps.

Mike shrieked as he tumbled and landed at the feet of the steps, his agony growing tenfold, “Shit…” He sniffled, holding his broken hand to his chest. He could no longer feel his dislocated arm.

“You never shut up, do you?” Vecna sighed, prowling down the stairs as Mike’s body shook with his cries, his legs kicking to try and escape, “No wonder William and Eleven prefer your clone.”

Mike screamed in the back of his throat, jaw clenched as he turned onto his stomach again, dragging himself along with his elbow and his legs, “That’s not fucking true!” He sobbed, but the fact they were yet to notice the difference made his voice crack and thin.

Vecna laughed, “You don’t sound so sure, Michael.” He taunted, following Mike along, stepping in the smears of blood he left behind, “Are you afraid that a fake will take your place?”

Mike growled and hooked his arm around a pillar, careful of the blotches of purple spread across his hand and tried to pull himself up, only to be kicked down again by a foot to his back.

Pain rippled across his ribs, and he gasped, clutching them as he trembled, “Have you g-got nothing better to do?!” Mike shouted, sobbing as Vecna flipped him over and leaned down, hovering over him like a lion inspecting a meal.

“I did.” The monster huffed, and Mike shrank at his vile breath, whimpers slipping from his throat as their faces grew closer until there was barely an inch between them, “But you foiled my plan.”

Mike whined, kicking his legs at Vecna’s chest, “Get the fuck away from me, you creep!” He cried, thrashing.

Vecna briefly cocked his head, a nauseating snap bouncing off the walls of the house. For a moment, Mike didn’t realise what he’d done, but soon, pure agony flared in his leg, and he screamed, frightening the demo bats and dogs and gorgons for miles.

Vecna stood, leering over him, just watching as Mike looked down at his crooked leg, broken at the knee and spewed a series of curses.

But he was pliant, and Vecna dragged him by his hair through the house until they reached the basement, where vines sprouted, covering every inch like the roots of a tree, “Have fun dying here.” He smirked, throwing him down the steps again.

Mike’s only reply was tears.

[six-white-venus]

How to build the perfect imposter

Step one: smile and nod, smile and nod, smile and nod when someone accuses you of doing something you weren’t even aware of. Just apologize, because you probably did do it.

(refer: memory 1278 that’s located along with the ones that happened 418 weeks ago.

your aunt’s lens is dumped in the dustbin and she says you did it. you swear to your mom, amma, amma believe me please, i didn’t even go near it. but your words are worth lesser than the discarded lens and you think back now: i’m being silly. i probably did do it. right?)

Step two: Don’t cry, don’t you even dare to let a single tear slip out of your eye when words are thrown at your plump frame like darts. Just let the grown ups enjoy the game, sweetheart. Don’t be sensitive! If they call you fat or jibe that your skin is too dark for you to be pretty and that oh, your mom looks like your younger sister! it’s all in good fun!

Step 3: learn to cover your tongue with lies and shun the sweet taste of your mother tongue. relish the bitterness your forked tongue basks in and hold in the truth that claws your insides and rips up all your organs, throwing a tantrum to be let out. Hold it all in, liar, and spin me one of your bitter lies.

(try this simple experiment at home to understand this step better:

 Cough up the blood pooling in your stomach on your phone screen when you’re fourteen and watch with morbid fascination as it forms into all the truth you have shoved inside your fragile body for so long.

I feel so empty all the goddamn time

I think i want to kill myself

Hit send and hear your mom gasp as she snatches the phone away from your grasp to read the text. Your parents interrogate you in a locked room. what is happening, they ask. There’s copper in your mouth and you want to spit it out at your feet but instead, you swallow. You swallow and say ‘i was just forwarding a message another friend sent to me’ and weave another one of your pretty little lies. Watch your father fall prey to it and grin. your teeth are bloody.)

Step four: and when you can’t contain the smell of death coming from the hollows of your chest no more, go to the psychiatrist farthest from your home, one that your father used to see. Lo and behold! You have now learnt that the man who gave birth to you hated this godforsaken world once upon a time, too!

(memory 78,98,430, dated 156 weeks ago-

You sit before the psychiatrist as he diagnoses you with major depressive disorder. You roll the syllables on your tongue and think you haven’t uttered something so beautiful in so long. You go home and while your family mourns, you hide your smile under the palm of your hand.

see? i was not lying.)

Step five: tell the whole damn world about it. amma, amma do you believe me now? I’m all messed up in the head, amma. The doctor says so himself! watch as the days pass by and your health gets worse and your prescription gets more and more colourful and your laugh gets louder and louder. see? see? I’m not fake and overdramatic, my antidepressants agree! find happiness when you see that you are no longer the only one who can smell the end and death and rot rising from your flesh. i’m not faking it. i’m not faking it. right?

Step six: if you have followed the above steps correctly, you will experience the following:

crushing guilt 

the fear of people jumping out from behind the screen and yelling “liar! cheater! faker!”

pounding your fists on the pavements and watching your knuckles paint it red as you chant: i’m not lying i’m not lying i’m not lying i’m actually sad i’m really sick please believe me why can’t you believe me why can’t i believe me?

And if you do, congrats! You have built the perfect imposter and it has been you all along, hasn’t it?

[your-divine-ribs]

Red Part 14

Words: 2.6k

Van and Y/N attempt to deal with the aftermath of getting caught…

Red Masterlist Main Masterlist

You'd played the scenario of getting found out over and over in your head many a time when you were tossing and turning and unable to sleep in the small hours of the morning, consumed as you were by that sickly, nauseating guilt that clung to you like a festering second skin. You tortured yourself with possible outcomes, forever switching up little details, agonising over doing the right thing before the inevitable happened and you got caught out just like the sneaky, conniving cheats that you were. You were determined to do the right thing, you really were... you just needed to pick the right moment.

But now you'd run out of time.

"You two..." Sophie's face is still a mask of disbelief, scorn and disgust etched into her features as her eyes flick between you and Van. "I can't believe it!"

"It's not how it looks!" Van protests, but the fact that he's still fastening his jeans with fumbling fingers tells Sophie all that she needs to know.

"Oh really? Then how is it? Because from where I'm standing it looks like you've just fucked your best friend's girlfriend."

She spits the last few words off her tongue like they're so repulsive she can't bear the taste of them in her mouth a second longer. It makes your stomach lurch, a gut-churning dread holding your insides in a vice, turning your throat so dry that when you try to talk your voice is choked.

"Sophie... please don't tell Larry... please. I didn't mean for this to happen... believe me... I really didn't mean..."

A shrill, cutting laugh bursts suddenly from Sophie, cutting you off. It's a grating sound, sharp and bitter with no humour. Her glare is glacial. If looks could kill you'd be six feet under right now.

"So what happened then? Did you just fall and land on his dick? Things like this don't happen by accident! How long has it been going on? How long have you two been sneaking around behind everyone's backs?"

A loud 'ding' sounds out followed by a mechanical voice telling you to 'mind the doors please' and for a moment you consider just letting the doors slide shut, riding back down to the ground floor and stepping out of the lift and out of the hotel. Away from Sophie and Larry and Van. Away from the shame and the guilt that's crippling you. You'd probably do it as well if you thought that those feelings wouldn't follow you. You can't run from them though. You have to face it. You've got no choice.

"Nothing's been going on," you lie shamelessly, the words scorching your throat. "I swear! We didn't exactly plan this!" You glance across at Van, your eyes meeting, the knowledge flowing between you that this union was in fact very much planned... despite not seeing each other for weeks it's all that you've both thought about.

"She's right," Van steps forward, his hand shooting out in the path of the automatic door to still it. "Nothing happened before tonight, you've got to believe us. And this is all my fault... I made the first move. You can't blame Y/N..."

Sophie scoffs at him, incredulous. "I've never heard so much bullshit in all my life! It takes two you know." She turns her attention to you, accusing finger pointing at you whilst you slink back into the elevator carriage, struggling to meet her harsh glare. "I'd expect this kind of thing from Van, but you? Sweet little Y/N... the good little girlfriend?" She coos mockingly at you, her lips turning up into a snarl. "You always acted like you hated Van... you couldn't even bear to be in the same bloody room as him half the time! You even warned me off him when we first met, telling me what a dick he was to women... that I shouldn't trust him..."

She pauses, her eyes going wide as a grin bordering on manic takes over, realisation flooding her as she recalls your meeting that fateful morning in the kitchen not so long ago.

"That's it!" She cries almost triumphantly, throwing her hands up in the air. "That's fucking it! How could I have been so stupid? I thought you were doing me a favour at the time but now I know what it really was! You weren't even thinking of me at all were you? You were trying to get rid of me. Come on, admit it... you wanted him all for yourself."

"That's not true!" You blurt, your voice cracking as the shock starts to wear off and emotion takes over. "I never wanted him... I was with Larry. I love Larry... I still do."

Van looks at you longingly, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach out for you, a small gesture of comfort in this fucked up situation. But he can't. He can't do anything apart from plead with Sophie, your fate resting precariously in her hands.

"Sophie... you've got to listen to me... You can't say anything to Larry... just hear me out..."

"I'm done listening to your crap Van!" Sophie whirls on him, furious, her cheeks crimson as the rage roils inside her. "You make me fucking sick! You think you're something special just because of the band, don't you? You think you can treat people like they're disposable. All you care about is yourself and what's in it for you. You're a disgusting piece of shit!" She pauses to catch her breath but she's not finished, and you can feel the last bit of your composure start to crumble as she turns on you, unleashing her anger, her words piercing you like a barrage of bullets. "And you're no better Y/N... you're nothing but a lying, cheating whore! You don't deserve Larry... neither of you do."

"That's enough!" Van shouts with force, but Sophie just shakes her head, forcing a bitter laugh. She starts to step back, her fiery cheeks glistening under the lighting as she tilts her face upwards and you realise for the first time that she's crying. The dagger that's taken up residence in your heart twists, driving deeper.

"You two deserve each other... you really do," she mutters, looking first at Van and then at you, then she turns, head bowed down as she starts to stalk away.

"Sophie! Wait!" Van calls urgently. He sounds panicked but you just feel numb. His heads whips around to you. "Y/N," he breathes, reaching out for you but you bat his hand away. You realise you don't want his comfort. You don't deserve it, you deserve to feel this pain... and besides there are more urgent things to consider right then. You want him to catch up to Sophie, try and reason with her, try and salvage something out of this whole fucking mess which is just about to get exponentially and explosively worse. Maybe he can talk her around, persuade her not to tell Larry, calm her down enough just to give you a little bit more of that precious time you so desperately need. You know now what needs to be done.

"Go to her Van... go on!" You implore, and he falters, torn as he agonises over what to do.

"I'm sorry love... I truly am," he mumbles, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so forlorn, a haunted look in his eyes as the weight of the situation presses down on him. Then he's reluctantly turning away, small steps at first which turn into strides, then he's picking up his pace, calling out to Sophie as he goes, catching hold of her arm just as she's about to turn the corner. You can hear harsh words being exchanged, muted but hissed out in angry tones, gradually fading into quiet as they move away.

Fuck...

You close your eyes as you slump against the wall, letting the weakness in your knees win the war it's waging in keeping you upright. In a swift motion you let yourself slide down until you feel the rough carpeted floor beneath you, head tipped back, legs stretched out. You suppose you should have been prepared. You should have really known that this moment would eventually arrive. You and Van couldn't go on playing this dangerous game forever, tip-toeing around like the treacherous cheats that you were, fooling everyone that the volatile spark that lit whenever you shared the same space as Van was hatred rather passion.

The lift dings again and you hear the door slide open but you barely notice, you can hear disapproving murmurs as someone brushes past you as they step over you. They probably think you're a drunken waster lying there in disarray on the floor of a hotel corridor, not a troubled girl who specialises in breaking hearts.

You're not sure how much time passes, but the sound of an all too familiar male voice wrenches you out of your wretched thoughts. "Y/N? What are you doing out here on the floor? What the hell? Are you... crying?"

Your eyes immediately flick open as you hastily swipe underneath them to stem the tears that have escaped.

"Larry!" You greet your boyfriend who's appeared to materialise from nowhere, forcing a smile that feels unnatural on to your lips. "Of course I'm not crying... I'm just having a..." you pause, scrabbling for an explanation and drawing a blank "a... errr... a silly moment, that's all. You know me... too bloody emotional all the time over absolutely nothing!"

You follow it up with a small laugh that does nothing to shift the concern from Larry's face. If anything it just increases and he's quickly sinking down on to the floor next to you, mirroring your pose as he slips an arm over your shoulder, drawing you close.

"It's Van, isn't it? What's he gone and done now? Have you two had another row?" His voice is laden with a sympathy that you don't deserve.

"It's not Van... not really," you mumble, your cheeks blazing with shame as you shift your position where you sit, feeling the burn and the sticky wetness between your thighs, a sickening reminder of your infidelity.

Larry's not convinced, his voice uncharacteristically accusing of his friend. "Really? Because I just saw him with Sophie outside their room and he's in a right foul mood... they were having an almighty row. She looked furious and he had a face like thunder. I know how much it winds you up how he is with girls, but you probably ought to stay well out of this one."

"But I wasn't getting involved..." you protest, but quietly so. "Van can do whatever he likes."

Larry reaches for your hand, curling his fingers around yours, squeezing gently in a comforting gesture as he leans closer. "If I know you, you won't have been able to resist getting involved. I'm sure you managed to get a few sly digs in." He chuckles, shaking his head. "It's funny as I always used to have his back, but I'm really starting to see things from your point of view. Sophie's such a nice girl and he acts like he couldn't care less about her. It's pretty obvious he doesn't love her at all. In fact I don't think he even knows what love is... not like what we've got, eh babe?"

You smile weakly as it hits you how selfish you are as you replay clinging to Van just minutes ago in the lift. How thoughtless and cruel and callous, lead purely by your own desires without any thought of how your actions might affect other people.

When you're with Van it's like you're in a little bubble and the outside world ceases to exist, but the trouble with bubbles is they tend to burst, and now you're left with no choice but to face up to the fact that you have to make a decision and no matter what you do people are going to get hurt. Not everyone is going to emerge from this unscathed.

You look up at Larry, taking in the searching look in his eyes, his heavy brows pulled up into a small crease whilst you helplessly search for the right thing to say. You know what you should say. That things have changed, that you've changed, that you're not the kind and caring loving girlfriend that he thinks you are any more. As much as you love him, and you do love him, you're sure of that, the kind of love that you feel for him now isn't the kind he wants from you or the kind that he deserves. You don't think you'll ever be able to give him that. Van was right. And Sophie was right too. Larry deserves better, so much better.

"Larry... we need to talk..."

"There you are!"

You hear Bondy's loud drunken slur before you've even realised that you and Larry are no longer alone and you both look up to see him standing there with a lopsided grin on his face, holding a can of Red Stripe lager in each of his hands.

"Fucking 'ell," he laughs, looking down on you both. "I heard there was supposed to be a party happening but I must be mistaken. All I've seen so far is Van and Sophie having a slanging match in the corridor, Bob complaining of a headache and now I find you two sitting out here on the floor with faces like a wet weekend!"

He holds out one of the cans towards you with a silly hopeful expression, puppy dog eyes and sorrowful pouty lips. "Come on Y/N... please tell me I can rely on you... my drinking buddy... my partner in crime... the love of my life... the yin to my yang... the..."

"Alright, alright, I get the message!" You laugh, a rushed, breathy sound that's all relief that you've been rescued from what was going to be one of the hardest speeches you'd ever made in your life. "Give us a drink then!"

You reach out for the can which Bondy presses eagerly into your hands before he's grabbing for your wrist, pulling you up easily on to your feet. "I knew you wouldn't let me down!" He grins, nudging Larry with an elbow as he rises up on to his feet to stand beside you both. "She's a bloody diamond your gal... you've got a good 'un there! You hold on to her!"

"Oh I intend to," Larry replies, a huge, proud smile breaking out as he accepts the other can, snaking his free hand around your waist and pulling you in close.

You plaster on what you hope is a genuine smile even though you're dying on the inside, your heart clutched in icy fingers of dread and guilt and a debilitating fear that's robbing you of the ability to even think straight as you walk down the hotel corridor towards your destination.

All you can think of is what you'll find when you get there. Will Van be there? Will Sophie be there? Will your dirty little secret be laid bare for all to see?

You could easily be walking to the gallows the way your heart pounds and your head swims and your hands tremble around the can of lager you're clutching like a lifeline to hold on to.

"Let's get this party started then!" Bondy cheers as he finally comes to a stop in front of a door, fumbling in his back jeans pocket for a key card.

You take a shaky breath as the door swings inwards...

[lacontroller1991]

Burnt Skies (Rick Flag x Fem!Reader)

@h-hxgirl​

Requested by Anon: Saw this captain boomerang fanfic where he finds she's pregnant while they're on mission, I was wondering if you could maybe do something similar for Rick

Author's Note: He would be so protective of the reader fr fr, also this is gonna be angst angst angst so just beware

Warning: Death, pregnancy, language, blood, major character death, spoilers

“Hey (Y/N), you ready to go?” Rick’s voice echoed through the room before he halted, seeing you on the floor, head in the toilet.

“Yeah, give me a minute,” you replied weakly, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and flushing the toilet.

“Are you sure? Are you feeling alright?” He asked, rubbing your back as you looked up at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you there,” nodding his head, he walked out the door with guns strapped to his body on his tac vest. Looking at your reflection, you noticed a slight greenish tint to your face. Ignoring the wave of nausea, you made your way out of the base and to the plane. Walking up the ramp, you took a seat next to Rick who looked at you with concern in his brown eyes.

“Baby, maybe you should sit this one out. You aren’t looking too hot,” he whispered in your ear as you brushed the notion off. After all, you did have a really bad gut feeling about this mission.

“I’m here. I’m going,” you stated firmly as he looked you over one more time before shrugging his shoulders, knowing it was of no use to argue with you.

----------

The plane ride was hell. With the criminals being loud and Harley’s non stop chatter accompanying your periodic bouts of nausea, you were ready to get the hell off of the plane and right into combat.

“Alright guy, get ready to drop,” Rick shouted as the cargo door opened to reveal water beneath you. Once he gave the signal, you jumped into the cool water and began to swim your way to the mainland, waiting for the rest of the team to catch up to you. After everyone, save for the Weasel, had made it to the shore, you glanced over to your boyfriend who was laying next to Harley.

“Hey guys, it’s me. I’m the guy who called you and I brought my friends,” Blackguard shouted into the open, raising his hands while ignoring the shouts coming from the rest of the team and your boyfriend, Waller’s distant cursing ringing in your ear. Next thing you know, there was gunfire in every direction and things went to chaos. You quickly sought shelter behind a rock and shot off a few rounds into the woods, hoping to take down some of the Corto Maltese soldiers. “(Y/N), watch out,” Rick shouted at you as you turned to see what he was talking about, but it was too late before a large piece of debris from one of the trees knocked you out cold.

You woke up to machines attached to your body. Feeling the bile rise in your throat, you tried to get out of the restraints and look for a place to dump the contents of your stomach. Suddenly a pan was placed in front of you and that was all you needed to release the bile. Groaning at the light, you looked around the room and was surprised to see a cleanish room which plenty of nurses occupied.

“Ah good, you’re awake,” a voice commented as a rough hand pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at one of the generals you were tasked to take out.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” You asked, squirming your body against the bed, trying to loosen some of the restraints.

“Mi amore, we are treating you. Seems you have caught a parasite,” he replied before summoning the nurse over to you, carrying a plate of food and some juice, “you’re government must really be struggling if they’re sending pregnant women into the field,” he mentioned as your blood ran cold.

“That’s impossible,” muttering to yourself, your head went fuzzy at the concept of you being pregnant. With Rick’s kid.

“On the contrary, when we brought in your friend and you, we noticed certain things,” motioning down to your stomach only brought awareness to the fact that you were practically naked in a room full of the enemy.

“Let me go,” you pleaded, pulling your arms as much as you could.

“I think not,” he replied before nodding to one of the nurses who moved to turn on a machine and attach it to your head. Screams of agony soon left your lips, blocking out the sudden spurts of gunfire in the halls.

----------

Harley laughed maniacally as she gunned down multiple soldiers, enjoying the way they were dropping to the floor. She needed to get out of there. She needed to find the others. After the last one dropped to the floor, she moved toward the door before hearing a piercing scream echo down the hallway.

“Sounds like someone’s having fun,” she ran her tongue against her teeth before skipping toward the scream. Slamming open the door, she raised the guns in her hand, ready to fire, until she saw you laying on the table surrounded by nurses.

“No one messes with Flag’s girl,” she muttered to herself before unloading the magazine in the room. All of the nurses slinked to the ground, covered in a pool of their own blood. Rushing over to you, Harley unstrapped the restraints and head piece before taking out the IV and looked for your clothes.

“Where the hell are ya clothes?” She asked, searching high and low before she found a bag filled with your bloody uniform. Helping you sit up, she noted the way you looked super frail but practically glowing at the same time.

“Harley,” you whispered out to her before passing out on her shoulder. “Awww, this would be really cute if not for the circumstances,” she stated out loud to herself, peering out of the window and seeing a guy in a helmet run across the street with Flag. Wait a minute, Flag! Running out the door, she ran around the corner before stopping in front of the two men.

“Hiya guys! What’s up?”

“We’re here to save you, is (Y/N) with you?” Rick asked with hope in his voice as Harley nodded, wrapping pale fingers around his wrist and dragging him back inside and through the pile of bodies she had claimed. At the sight of you, Rick ran to your side and hugged your limp body.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked, fighting the tears that were beginning to surface.

“Don’t worry puddin’, she’s just asleep,” shrugging her shoulders, she left the room as you stirred, fluttering your eyes open.

“Rick?” You questioned as he rapidly nodded his head, placing kisses all along your face.

“Thank God you’re ok. I thought I lost you.”

“Rick, the doctors found something,” memories of the conversation you had moments ago replayed in your brain. You’re pregnant.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, mind still not comprehending the fact that you were pregnant. After all, you had been infertile most of your life. Avoiding his gaze, you waited for his response.

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m going to be a dad,” he whispered, causing your head to snap up and see a smile play against his face.

“You want this? I don’t know if it’ll carry to term. You know that I’m infertile.” Placing his lips against yours, he pulled you into his arms, hugging you as close as he could to his body. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed back before a throat clearing interrupted you.

“This is sweet and all, but we have a fucking monster to kill,” DuBois stated as you looked up at Rick who smiled.

“Stay here, I’ll come back and get you.”

“I’m not leaving your side,” you replied as he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“You’re pregnant. No way in living hell am I gonna allow you to do this. You’ll stay here and that’s an order,” you and he both hated when he had to pull his rank, but you realized it was necessary in cases like this.

“Just come back to me,” pulling his lips down against yours for what feels like the last time, you encoded this moment into your brain, remembering the way he tasted.

“For you? Always.”

----------

He should’ve known you were going to follow them into Jotunheim. Not only were you stubborn, but you still had that nagging feeling that something was going to happen. Sneaking past the military, you found a window and busted it open with your elbow before entering the building. Landing with a soft thud, you looked around the room and noticed Peacemaker going down a dark tunnel. Running after him, you made sure to stay hidden by the numerous pillars. Peering around the corner, you saw Ratcatcher standing next to Rick, however Peacemaker was pointing a gun at Rick.

“Nobody is saying what they did was right,” Peacemaker stated, hand unwavering.

“They experimented on children!” Rick yelled as more explosions went off in the distance.

“That information gets out and it causes an international incident. Keeping the peace is worth any price, including the life of a hero like yours, sir, so please. Don’t make me do this,” your stomach churned. You knew that Captain America wannabe was no good, and now your love might just pay the price. Suddenly, rocks collapsed all around you, obscuring your view of Rick and Peacemaker.

“No,” you whispered to yourself, picking up rocks and trying to make a hole for you to get your body through. Your efforts became faster the more you heard the two men grunting. After successfully digging a hole big enough for you, you crawled through as you heard something like porcelain shatter and choking.

“You mother fucker,” Rick stated through gritted teeth as you watched in slow motion, Peacemaker’s hand grasping a large shard.

“Rick!” You shouted out before tackling him off Christopher’s body, not getting out of the way soon enough as Peacemaker lodged the porcelain into your lower abdomen. “No!” Rick shouted as Peacemaker threw you off. In the distance somewhere, you heard a gun go off before hands wrapped around your body. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)?” Rick called to you but you couldn’t hear him, your mind venturing off.

----------

The sun lit your face through the blinds, dancing in your eyes and creating a multitude of hues, a warm body pressed against you.

“Morning sweetheart,” voice deep from slumber, Rick rubbed his eyes as he let out a yawn. Stretching in bed before your 5 year old daughter came running into the room.

“Mommy, daddy. It’s Christmas!” She squealed excitedly, waking up the baby that was next door.

“Yeah it is baby, you excited for your presents?” You asked as she rapidly nodded while Rick slid out of the bed.

“I’ll go grab little Digger,” he commented, kissing your forehead and your daughter’s head. Getting up, you went to grab a coffee before the doorbell rang. Moving to open it, you saw Harley’s painted face waiting for you with Nanaue, Cleo, Robert and Abner carrying presents.

“Merry Christmas dollface,” she exclaimed, pulling you in for a hug before running off to see her god daughter.

“Come in guys,” you motioned for them to enter as Rick rounded the corner, your 10 month old in his arms.

“So this is the little guy, huh?” Cleo asked as Sebastian waved a hand at the newborn, earning giggles from the baby.

“Yep, Digger Anthony Flag, meet your family,” Rick lifted up the baby’s arm, making him wave to everyone.

“I’m proud of you guys,” Robert commented, slapping a hand on Rick’s back as everyone shuffled into the living room, Nanaue taking up most of the space.

“Thanks man, it wouldn't have happened without you.”

“Alright, everyone ready for presents?” You asked the room with Harley by your side, Harleen in her arms. Rick placed Digger in Cleo’s arms before walking up to you and bringing you into his side.

“I love you, Mrs. Flag.”

“And I you, Mr. Flag.”

----------

Groaning, you felt an excruciating pain in your abdomen and a feeling of loss?

“(Y/N), baby, you’re awake,” his tired voice resonated in your ear as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, his hand not leaving yours.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” you commented as he sniffled, trying to suppress the tears that threatened to escape.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he noted, petting your hair and placing another kiss on your forehead.

“And leave our kid without a father? I don’t think...”, realization dawned on you at that moment. The sudden feeling of loss and the pain in that general area washed over you as you began crying. “Oh God, the baby is gone, isn’t it?” You asked through tears as he let a couple slip down his face, nodding and trying to smile through the pain. Choking back a sob, you turned your face away from him as tears continued to fall.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, squeezing your hand. Shaking your head, you refused to meet his hazel eyes, “(Y/N), look at me.” Turning your head, your eyes locked onto his as he continued to smooth down your hair.

“We’re alive. We’re both alive. That’s all that matters,” he replied, crawling into the hospital bed with you and pulling you against his chest as you cried into his shirt.

“What if I never get pregnant again?”

“We will. I’ll make sure of it. I’m done with the fucking task force. Waller can find someone else to puppet. But I’m done. You’re done. We’re gonna get married and have a nice house. I’ll get a new job and we’ll figure it out. I promise.” Kissing the top of your head, he wrapped his arms around you as you calmed down.

“I love you,” you whispered against his chest as he hugged you closer.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Author’s Note: Well this was way longer than I intended it to be. But hope you enjoy!!

[keysmashingfantasies]

Bloody Comfort

pre borderlands!Niragi x fem!reader / Niragi x fem!reader

A/N:  i feel like i only post Marvel on this blog and i missed my show so here it is, finally an AiB fic! :D also, minigame: how many alice in wonderland references can you spot? also also, bloody comfort is an awesome name for a band and if you do name your band that, i want my money. enjoy the fic! also also also i didn’t proofread SHIT so sorry for any grammar mistakes.

trigger warning: bullying, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic, i think but beware nonetheless), death (graphic. i mean, i’m not that good of a writer but still, beware), very slight mentions of nsfw, especially torwards the end, niragi (HE’S A WARNING OK), niragi having disturbing thoughts (what else is new. but fr, ok), sliiiiiight yandere niragi torwards the end. (also I tried not to describe in too much detail the bullying that niragi and the reader suffer in the fic so it wouldn’t be too sad). 

@dreamingofanisland here it is bestie! 

Niragi couldn’t pinpoint when he stopped being sad and when he started getting angry. From a suffocating hopelessness came a desperation he could only describe as feral. He often fantasized about just jumping over his desk and strangling each one of them to death but his thoughts quickly ended with Niragi envisioning himself being overpowered and beaten. He started to not only get angry at his bullies, but people in general. Things. Life.

How could so many people turn a blind eye? How could life be so unfair to give people like this the upperhand and not him? Not him that clearly deserved it? This world was backwards.

-

He knew he was fucked when he saw the bat, and although he braced for the impact he couldn’t help but fall to his knees and wince at the sickening sound that the baseball did in contact with his nose.

He just sat there and while all he wanted to do was to rip their throats with his teeth all he did was to endure a few more punches before they left with a promise that there would be more. He sat there trying not to cry with sheer frustration. His papers were scattered around, the left arm of his glasses was broken and his pristine black outfit was now covered in dust from the gravel, his hands scratched. He could taste blood on his tongue and he felt a sick satisfaction, pretending for one moment that it was another person’s blood he was tasting.

“Do you need help?”, a voice woke him from his violent daydreams. Suddenly everything boiled over and he felt an overwhelming anger rise inside of him. In a blink of an eye he was standing up, yelling at a somewhat blurry image of a girl who he towered over, even more as she shrunk under his anger. If he wouldn’t be so busy screaming profanities, he would be madly aroused.

“WHAT, HUH? CAME TO SEE THE SHOW? TO LAUGH AT ME?”, he was furious, and as he approached her, she proceeded to walk back.

“No. I just wanted to help”, she said. It seemed another flash and suddenly he could see a bit clearer. Although startled, she didn’t seem afraid of him, and was extending him a tissue. “Your nose is bleeding”, she said, and Niragi wanted to scoff at her for stating the obvious. But she was being kind. And as angry as he was, kindness wasn’t something that he could say no to. He tried his best to control his shaky hands as he took the tissue from her hands and carefully dabbed his nose, as she ducked to collect his papers, and tuck them back into his bag.

“Saw what they did to you. ‘m sorry”, she mumbled. Niragi wanted to strangle her out of sheer embarrassment.

“And you just took some popcorn and enjoyed the spectacle?”, he spat.

“I wanted to help but I wasn’t sure what to do. Would you rather if I had called someone?”, she asked. He breathed once, twice. She wasn’t mocking him, but was unnervingly calm. Something about her being calm while he was practically foaming at the mouth had him seeing red and suddenly he regret having wiped the blood off of his lips.

“No”, he said, calmly. “No, I wouldn’t. Sorry. I have to go”, he said, ripping his bag from her hands with such force that he tugged her arm with it.

“Wait! I mean what I said! I want to help!”

“You, help me? What are you going to do, huh? Be my bodyguard?”, he mocked her one more time. He couldn’t help himself, his brain got used to this. Fight or flight. His adrenaline was pumping and everytime he was around school grounds he looked over his shoulder.

“Hmmm, sorta? Not exactly but I could show you a place. A safe place”, she said. He just looked at her.

“If we get there and it’s a prank of some sort I’ll let you punch me. Square in the face”, she said.

“Are you insane? You just go around letting people punch you in the face?”, his mouth was quicker than his brains and suddenly he felt his face grow hot at the irony of what he had said. But if she noticed it, she didn’t mention.

“Let me help you”, she said.

And he did.

He followed her through a wooded area near the school grounds after walking through a hole in a fence.

He was getting ready to beat you to the punch and hit you so hard that you’d bleed as hard as he did, until you stopped until you reached a very underwhelming toolshed with a padlock.

“We’re here”, you said, and he realized that she sounded different. All this time she was on edge. ‘Of course, Suguru, you threatened the girl like, 3 times’, said the voice in the back of his head. She pulled a key from her bag and the padlock opened easily and they heavy chains fell to the ground and she pushed open the door, going inside. He hesitantly followed.

The inside is nothing as he thought it would be. For starters, it was surprisingly clean and  it didn’t smell bad. And instead of tools and brooms and leafblowers, it had bean bags, blankets, a table with a radio full of knickknacks in the corner and a chair that had clearly seen better days but looked comfortable none the less. The girl walked to a corner of the room and his eyes followed her as she closed the door, which had small sharpie drawings on it. She reached for a white box and settled it on the floor between the two bean bags, and reached inside a very small thermos to pull out an artificially blue isotonic drink and settled it down too. Then from the plastic bag he previously assumed was trash, she pulled a bag of chips.

She then patted the bean bag next to hers. “Welcome to my clinic”, she said, placing the white box on her lap.

-

After an entire afternoon of bonding over unhealthy food and an impromptu first aid rescue, Niragi learned that her name was Y/N, she was a year below and that this little world she created was her refuge from the girls in her class that picked on her.

“I found this and decided that it would be nice. No one’s using it, it’s far from everything. It’s on the Beheaded Woman’s territory”.

Niragi heard the rumors through his bullies. “One day we’ll drag you to the Beheaded Woman’s woods and fucking kill you”.  After further investigation, he learned that allegedly a girl was dragged through the woods and beheaded with a blunt axe.

“I made the rumors up. I had to make sure no one would find my safe haven”, she explained. “And once you write something in the girls’ bathroom stall, there’s no turning back. It’s out there and it’s truth”, she sighed. “I would know”.

He wasn’t the most up to date in all the gossip but she told him her story. The rumors they spread, the things they did to her. She almost seemed amused. He in turn told her his story. By the end of it, he could kill someone. She then offered him the other key to her safe haven.

“You can decorate it too. Don’t tell anyone else and make sure to lock it after you use it. Use it as much as you want, just make sure they don’t follow you, okay?”

He took the keys with shakey hands, a knot on his throat. Another type of adrenaline was pumping through his veins. When a few moments ago there were a fast white heat, coursing through him like an electric current, this was slow and almost overwhelmingly warm, like molten lava.

“Why are you doing this? Being so nice to me?”, he whispered as if it was a secret, as if this moment was another fantasy, a deer that’s easily spooked. He had fantasized about this too. A safe haven, an ally. A friend.

“Because we’re the same, you and I”.

-

You hated him. You hated him with a burning passion. What was at first an act of pity, born from the empathy you felt by seeing someone go through what you did, quickly became a friendship and like a disease, it spread to beyond your safe haven. You would spend your free time together, walk home together. You became friends. And what did he do? Exactly what he told you he would.

“Sometimes don’t you wish to disappear?”, he whispered to you once.

“Yeah. Like, run away? Yeah, I do”, you replied agreeing with him.

 ‘You’re the only one that understands me. We really are the same’, he would say. What at the beginning of your budding crush on him gave you butterflies on the stomach now made you want to throw up.

You lost your only friend. You despised the sound of music now, because every single song you heard, you shared with him. For the same reason, you didn’t enjoy your favorite movies anymore. Your bullies banded together to target you. And the worst part of all, is that you couldn’t even care. There was no silver lining anymore.

“Don’t you get furious?! Don’t you want to hurt them, make them pay?”, he said as he watched you apply concealer to a bruised cheek.

“I mean, I get angry but I try my best to not let it get to me. It’s what they want. I despise those people, I can’t get in a funk because of them”, you said nonchalantly.

But you had loved him. And now you felt like even moving around was an herculean task, like you were almost dead trying to get to safety. But there was no safety anymore.

Ironically, you started to understand him more and more after he disappeared. The anger, the hatred. How could anyone just follow their lives? When there’s people like you just suffering through yours?

Suguru Niragi was an illness, a parasite. He carved his way under your skin and into your heart, laid eggs of his hate on your veins and sucked you dry of your life’s essence. Then, after you were a shell of a human, he disappeared out of thin air, leaving you alone. Leaving you with those people. Leaving you to die.

And you were still in love with him.

-

You thought you were finally insane when it happened.

The streets were empty. Absolutely no one. You wondered for a moment if you felt so alone that your mind convinced itself that that’s exactly what had happened, if any moment now you would be locked in an insane asylum for running around and screaming until you throat got raw.

It took you two games to understand what was going on. You made sure to change clothes. Running shoes, leggings and a warm hoodie that you never let the hood down. You decided to significantly shorten your hair after you saw a man pull a young girl by the ponytail in a spades game. You loaded a backpack with food and bottles of water, anything you could find. And an axe that you took from an emergency box from the building you slept in.

It was on your 5th game that it happened. You saw people die in these games, but none of it was hands on for you. You just watched your back and hoped to win and let whoever was running this show take care of the rest. Honestly, you didn’t even wait to know if anyone even survived. You were done doing that.

When you got there, there were five people already. They banded together and whispered amongst themselves as you passed them by and grabbed a phone. Probably just a group of friends that got stranded at the same time and decided to stay together. You clutched you axe harder.

You didn’t even realize that you had zoned out until you heard hollering and four guys heavily armed walked you by. Where the fuck did they get guns? One of them let out a boisterous laugh that reminded you of someone that you wanted desperately to forget. You couldn’t even get over him during fucking Saw? That sound made your skin crawl.

Registration closed, said the mechanic voice. Difficulty: 8 of clubs. The first 5 players will be the first team and the last 5 players will be the second. One team must eliminate the others without losing any players. Both teams will be identified by the color of your screen, and will have one minute to hide.

You saw the armed guys’ screens light up red. You sighed in relief as yours did too. You made sure to keep your head down and thank whoever that not killing teammates was a part of the rules. They seemed amused and absolutely calm, and the guy with the rifle laughed again. You were shaking by now.

When the minute started, everyone bolted in different directions. You didn’t even look back to see if your teammates had accompanied you but by the sound of your footsteps crushing leaves, you were alone. You decided to go back after a while, looking around. A lamppost. Huh, lamppost it is. You leaned against the cool metal and focused on the silence. The minute had ended but they were still hunting. You didn’t come across anyone, which was good. After a while, all you could hear were distant gunshots.

You looked to the floor, only to see a shadow approaching you quick. You barely had time to dodge before a man hit you behind the head with a rock. You reacting made him lose his balance, falling to the floor and letting go of the rock. You looked at him. It was one of the boys from the other team. He had on a white button up blouse and a black hoodie. His hair had fallen over his brown eyes and he looked so scared and so alone.

This will have to do.

You didn’t stop, suddenly lifting the axe and bringing it down was like an automatic thing.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME? AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU! YOU ABANDONED ME IN A MINUTE, LEFT ME ALONE IN THAT HELL!”

You didn’t stop when he started praying and then screaming. You didn’t stop when he started bleeding profusely or when the strength of your movements made your hood slide down from your head. You didn’t stop when his head got detached from his body and if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve listened tfootsteps. You didn’t stop until you had made mincemeat out of his face. Just for the sheer audacity of reminding you of him.

He looked at you from afar while you looked at the body of the boy whose skull you just had destroyed, a maniac, victorious smile on your face. You were pretending the boy was him. You really thought he had abandoned you? He would be absolutely heartbroken if he wasn’t so aroused. That’s what he always wanted to see, the instincts that you tried to push down. You were right, you were both the same. He wanted to lick that blood off of you, use it as lube to take you right there. When he first arrived at the Borderlands, when he first killed someone and liked it, he thought you would be disgusted by him. But look at you now. You were here, perfect for him, soaked in blood, feral. He’s never been so hard.

“Y/N”, he said.

“Niragi?,” you said. He ran to you, held you even when you fought back, even when you screamed bloody murder that you were going insane, begging to die already, even when you passed out on his arms. He licked a drop of blood from your neck.

“Let me take you to our safe haven”, he whispered against your skin.

[amazingmaeve]

━ stop thinking

summary ━ y/n’s sixth year at hogwarts is horrible with snape being headmaster but ginny weasleys there to make it better.

request ━ Could you please write a ginny x female reader imagine with the prompts 61, 65 and 156 from the smut list? The one that you posted today was awesome! Thank you :)

warnings ━ smut (18*)

word count ━

note ━ sorry for not uploading for a while :(

Y/N always knew that there was this deep attraction to Ginny. Deep down she felt something for the red headed girl. But she could never admit it to herself.

She always told herself that she didn’t like girls that she liked boys. But Ginny kept appearing in her dreams no matter how hard she tried to block them out. There wasn’t denying that Ginny was a beautiful woman.

Ginny had no idea of what Y/N was feeling even though they’ve been friends ever since their 2nd year. She didn’t think Ginny was attracted to girls since her crush on Harry Potter.

This attraction towards her friend started in Y/N’s 5th year. It was a dream that ended with the two of them kissing. Y/N woke up with a start, her heart racing. She touched her lips remembering the kiss. No she thought she couldn’t be dreaming about this.

But the dreams got worse, it wasn’t bad it was good but Y/N kept telling herself she shouldn’t be dreaming this. The dreams got more sexual that she woke up with her pussy throbbing and wet.

Y/N got accustomed to the dreams and enjoyed them until she woke up to her reality.

She came to terms with her sexuality in the 6th year. She wasn’t going to make a move on Ginny since Ginny didn’t seem like she was into women.

The summer between her 5th and 6th year the dreams kept coming. It was the summer where she used her imagination and touched herself. At first it was weird to Y/N jerking off while thinking of her best friend but got used to it. Of course she would never do it at Hogwarts with Ginny in the same room.

She still kept her friendship with Ginny alive but tried to keep the thoughts out of her head. She couldn’t lose a friend over this.

Something else happened in her 6th year, Ron, Harry, and Hermione went off to find the horcruxes to defeat Voldemort. At first hearing about Voldemort when she was younger she was confused why people were so afraid of him since she was a muggle. But then she got the explanation.

Y/N was terrified of Voldemort after she heard what he did. The people he killed. It didn’t get real until he returned in her 3rd year when Cedric Diggory died.

Hogwarts was different after Dumbledore died at Snape's hands. But she had to go back to school and finish her education. She felt unsafe at Hogwarts since Snape to have favoritism for Slytherins and Slytherins didn’t like her at all. Ginny always reassured her that nothing would happen, they didn’t have the guts to try anything.

That comment made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Then one day everything changed between the two of them. It was midday and Y/N wondered where Ginny was and wondered what she got on a test since she helped her study.

Y/N was sitting on her bed nervously waiting for the girl. Ginny came in with a sigh and Y/N knew that it wasn’t good.

“That bad,” Y/N asked as Ginny sat at the end of her bed. Ginny nodded as her face contorted with anger.

“Got a D,” Ginny mumbled, rolling her eyes. “Snape’s favoritism is really getting to me,” She snapped.

“Don’t worry about it, once Harry and the others get back everything will fall into place,” Y/N softly reassured her, giving her a pat on the arm.

“Hopefully,” Ginny whispered and her face contorted to a smile. “You always know how to cheer me up,” She laughed.

“Just- just my talent,” Y/N stuttered as her heart fluttered at her laugh. She hated the feelings she had but couldn’t get them to stop.

Ginny then made eye contact and Y/N gave her a nervous smile. She felt herself gain some confidence and leaned in and pressed her lips against hers.

At first Y/N thought Ginny wouldn’t kiss back since she thought she liked only boys. But to her surprise Ginny kissed her back softly putting her hand on Y/N’s thigh giving it a squeeze. The kiss deepened and she fought for dominance but in the end Ginny won.

“I didn’t know you like-liked girls,” Y/N stuttered as they pulled away. Ginny immediately went for her nick kissing and sucking on the skin trying to find her sensitive spot.

“How could you not? I gave so many signals,” Ginny giggled then nibbling on her ear lobe.

“Oh,” Y/N muttered then let out a tiny moan as she started to suck on the spot behind her ear.

Ginny's hand still splayed out on her thigh made its way up further and further. It was easy since Y/N was wearing her skirt/school uniform. Her hand four it’s way all the way to the top of her thigh as her lips continued to work on marking her neck.

Ginny's fingers went to her covered pussy and began to rub hard circles on her clit. Y/N leaned her head back and Ginny took that time and managed to lay her down on the pillow and laid on top of her. Ginny took her school shirt off leaving her in a bra and. Y/N felt her heart racing and her pussy was waiting in anticipation.

Ginny smirked at her reaction and played with the hem of her shirt and trailed her fingers on the bottom of her tummy and at the top of her skirt. Y/N’s breath hitched as she tugged at the hem signaling she wanted it off.

Y/N leaned up and lifted her arms up while Ginny pulled the clothing off. Her eyes widened as she noticed that Y/N was wearing a bra.

“Bloody gorgeous,” Ginny whispered and leaned in and kissed her again.

Y/N’s hands found her hair as Ginny's wandered to her boobs. Her right hand softly massaged the area as her thumb found her hard nipple. Y/N moaned into her mouth as Ginny's soft hands fondled her.

Needing some air they parted but Ginny returned to the crook of her neck sucking hard giving hickeys. Y/N moaned as she used her fingers and pinched her nipple. Ginny giggles in her ear loving the reaction.

She moved down Y/N’s body kissing and sucking praying her body.

“Stop teasing me so much,” Y/N whines, rubbing her legs to help the ache in her pussy but it didn’t solve anything.

“I just love teasing you though,” Ginny stated, smirking and then started to lap at her hard nipple. Y/N moaned as she felt her panties get even more wet.

“I guess I’ll just get myself off then,” Y/N whispered as her hand travelled between them and found her panties. Her hand ended up beneath her panties and started to massage her wet clit.

“Stop being dramatic,” Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled Y/N’s out from her panties and brought them to her lips and started to suck on them. “Hmm you taste amazing,” She moans around her fingers.

Ginny continued to kiss down her body and pulled her skirt off throwing it across the room. Now she was completely naked besides her panties.

“Wow I cant believe how wet you are already love,” Ginny says astonished seeing the wet patch on the white panties while being face to face with her clothes pushed. She put her thumb on the wet spot and softly rubbed the nub

“How can I not when you’ve been teasing me,” Y/N pouted and gasped, her pussy aching even more.

“Good point,” Ginny nodded.

She removed her finger and moved them up to the laced hem of the underwear and pulled them off slowly. She threw them in the pile where her shirt and skirt was.

Ginny immediately spotted her clit since it was engorged, wanting to be touched. Ginny used her heads spreading Y/N’s folds apart letting the cool air hit her warm pussy. It made her moan as she clenched around nothing.

Ginny leaned in and started to lap at the nub as Y/N whimpered feeling pleasures course through her body. It felt so surreal since the only touch she had was from her hand.

Meanwhile Ginny's hand travelled to her sopping wet entrance and slowly pushed in two fingers and Y/N arched her back and moaned as she curled her fingers to her g spot.

“Ginny,” Y/N moaned loudly, not caring who heard since all she was focused on was Ginny's mouth and hands pleasuring her.

She finally wrapped her lips around her clit and started to suck harshly making Y/N moan her name louder. Her fingers were thrusting in fast and hard, still hitting her g spot. She could feel her high approaching as she clenches around Ginny's long fingers.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum,” Y/N moaned tugging on her red hair.

“Let go darling,” Ginny came up for a second then went back to lapping at the nub faster wanting to see her cum.

Y/N moaned and shook as one more harsh thrust of her fingers to her g spot sent her over the edge as she finally came on her fingers. Y/N was moaning while cumming and Ginnys tongues on her clit helped get her to that high.

Ginny leaned back in relief and pulled her bra off with her skirt and panties as Y/N laid there with a happy smile on her face.

“Like that love,” Ginny asked, smirking and kissing her way up Y/N’s body.

“Hmm,” Y/N hummed nodding her head yes.

“I’m glad,” Ginny smiles as she lined her pussy up with Y/N’s and started to rub her clit against her own. Ginny moaned as both of their sensitive nubs pleasured each other.

Y/N leaned back and moaned as her overly sensitive clit made contact with Ginnys. Ginny started to rub harder chasing hers and Y/N’s highs. Ginny's hand found Y/N’s hard nipple and gave it a harsh tug.

“Ginny,” Y/N whimpered, clenching around nothing.

“Yes love,” Ginny moaned, putting her other hand on her neck, giving it a squeeze making Y/N moan.

Ginny started to bounce even harder and faster and one more brush against her clit Y/N leaned back and moaned yelling Ginny's name. Ginny started to chase her high with Y/N’s help of course.

Y/N’s thumb went to her clit and started to rub furiously fast and Ginny moaned, squeezing her eyes shut, meeting her thrust bouncing on her hand. And with one movement the rope in her stomach snapped.

“Y/N,” Ginny moaned loudly cumming all over her fingers. Ginny sighed happily and stayed like that for a minute before rolling off Y/N.

Y/N cuddled and rested her head on Ginny's chest as Ginny ran her fingers through Y/N’s hair. They stayed there in each other’s arms.

“I love you,” Ginny blurted out, making Y/N’s eyes widen in shock. She leans on her elbows on her pillow.

“Really,” Y/N asked doubtfully.

“Really,” Ginny nodded leaning up to kiss her.

“I love you too,” Y/N says back smiling at her and hid her face in the crook of her neck feeling, herself fall asleep, even though it was during the muddled of the day.

[salazarslytherin]

good to me (c.d x y/n)

requested: yes! i'm poppin off y'all [hi! i was wondering if you could do a cedric x reader smut with praise?] send in your own request here

summary: in which cedric shows y/n just how amazing she is

🃛 masterlist!

cw/tw: SMUT, slight self-depracation, praise!kink, slight fluff

word count: 1996

a/n: sorry if this isn't that great :( i'm not really experienced with praise so i hope this is ok! enjoy :) also a warning, i dont proofread lmao :/

"Has anyone seen y/n?"

A series of 'no's sounded around the room, and Cedric frowned slightly. You'd disappeared without a trace after Charms, leaving the room without a word to Cedric. It was incredibly unlike you to do, and worried the Prefect immensely.

"Oh Diggory. I think I saw y/n a while back going towards the Astronomy Tower. I'm not sure if that's where she was headed, but you can check it out if you want."

Cedric thanked the sixth year, and ran off towards the tower.

⚔︎

You were, in fact, at the Astronomy Tower. It had grown to be one of your favourite places at Hogwarts – the view from the top was astonishing, and it held one of your favourite memories of your seven years there.

The spot was beautiful, staring straight at the full moon, and the room was illuminated by string lights on the walls, the soft winds wafting the smell of chocolates around the room. A blanket sat in the middle of the room, pillows adorning it with a plate of chocolate covered strawberries on the side.

"Ced, what's all of this?"

You laughed slightly as your eyes were uncovered by your best friend, focusing on the decorations around the room, before you turned around to see a sheepish smile on the Hufflepuff's face.

"I wanted to tell you something."

Cedric pulled out a rose from behind his back, biting his lip uncertainly as he held it out to you.

"Y/N, I really, really like you. Would you maybe be my girlfriend?"

⚔︎

Sitting on the very same blanket as that night, the tears that filled your eyes were there for a very different reason.

It wasn't that you were a bad student, in fact, you were excelling in quite a few of your classes. But charms, for some reason you could just never get the hang of it. The difficulty you faced in that class frustrated you to no end, and today had been the breaking point.

An essay that you'd worked on for ages – you'd skipped Hogsmeade weekends, quidditch games, dates with Cedric just to research it, had gotten a Poor.

Some might say you were overreacting, but it was your NEWTs year, and every single grade counted. So you locked yourself away in the tower, wallowing in the fact that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't do bloody Charms.

"Y/N? Are you here, love?"

Cedric ascended the stairs, just in time to see you turning away from him, tear-stained face and red eyes making his chest hurt.

"Hey, hey, hey! What happened baby?"

The boy ran towards you, muscular arms wrapping around you from behind, a kiss landing on the top of your head.

"Tell me please. Did someone hurt you? I will kill them. Well, maybe not kill. I'll curse them. Well. If they really did hurt you I may consider killing them."

You couldn't help a giggle that left your lips as you turned around, burrowing your head into Cedric's chest.

"No, it's nothing Ced. I just, didn't do very well for the charms essay. And I'm just so done with this. I'm so stupid, how could someone spend three weeks on an essay and still get a poor? I hate this. I hate myself."

As you ranted, tears started spilling out of your eyes again, dampening Cedric's shirt and causing a frown to grow on his face, his heart breaking at the sounds of your confession.

"Hey no stop that. You're not stupid at all darling. Why would you ever think that? You're so incredibly intelligent, and so incredibly amazing. Grades aren't everything Y/N/N, so please don't ever put yourself down over something like this."

Cedric's hands came up to cup your face, pulling you away from his shirt, wiping the tears away before he leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

"You're so beautiful Y/N."

Cedric began peppering kisses all over your face, kissing away the tears that remained, before trailing down your neck, maneuvering the two of you so you laid down on the blanket, Cedric hovering over you.

"Let me show you how much you mean to me. How amazing you are. How beautiful you are." You nodded, unable to speak as you stared at the boy above you, admiring his handsome features.

Cedric looked down at you with the same admiration, before leaning in to kiss your collarbone, slowly unbuttoning your shirt as he sucked a small hickey into your neck.

"I love you so much baby, don't ever think so poorly of yourself."

Cedric reached around you to unbutton your bra, removing the lace garment before reaching down to remove your skirt and your underwear.

"Let me take good care of you baby."

Cedric kissed up your thigh, reaching your pussy before placing a soft kiss on your clit, drawing a soft moan from you.

"You're so good for me Y/N, so good to me."

The vibrations on your clit drew more moans from you, which only got louder as Cedric pressed his tongue flat against you. Drawing it up and down your slit, Cedric grabbed onto your thighs, spreading them farther apart as you reached down to pull on his hair. Cedric's hand left your thigh, plunging one finger deep into your warmth as he moaned against your clit, sucking on it softly before drawing away, pumping his finger in and out of you, slowly and steadily.

"Such a pretty little pussy, so wet and tight. I love your pussy baby."

As Cedric traced his lips up your body, he slipped a second finger into your cunt, using his thumb to draw small circles on your clit. His lips landed on your tits, kissing and sucking on one after another, paying equal amounts of attention to each. A pit of fire began growing in your stomach, your pussy fluttering against Cedric's fingers, that began to pump in and out of you faster as he felt the sensations of your orgasm approaching.

"F-fuck, Ced, I'm going to cum."

Cedric moved up to kiss you, replacing the attack on your tits with his other hand, murmuring against your lips.

"Oh fuck yes, cum for me baby. I want to feel you cum on my fingers. Let me taste you."

Cedric's tongue slipped into your mouth, letting out a throaty groan as he felt you tight around his fingers, his erection growing harder against your thigh as your tongues danced, exploring every crevice of your mouth.

A moan left your body, your entire body thrumming as shudders ran throughout your body. Eyes closed and your toes curling, Cedric pulled away from you, his fingers pumping slowly as you ground down on them, admiring your body writhing, pride emulating from his very state at the thought of your pleasure, caused by him.

Cedric drew his fingers out of you as your eyes opened again, glazed by a sheen of post-orgasmic delight. He stuck the fingers into his mouth, sucking on them as he moaned.

"You taste so sweet baby."

His eyes opened, seeing a small smile on your face.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Cedric's eyes trailed up and down your body, watching the way your chest heaved as his pupils dilated and darkened, growing impossibly harder.

Leaning down to plant a kiss against your lips again, Cedric murmured, "Are you alright to go again baby?"

You nodded against him, hands reaching down to unbuckle Cedric's belt and undoing his pants, pulling them down to leave him in boxers taut against his leaking cock.

He pulled the boxers down, balancing on his hands and knees above you. You reached down, grabbing hold of him, thumb spreading the gathered precum gently, drawing moans from the Hufflepuff prefect.

His hand replaced yours, lowering his pelvis and taking his cock into his own hand, rubbing the head of his cock slowly up and down your slit, the both of you moaning at the sensations.

Your hands moved to hold onto the boy's neck, drawing his face closer to yours as your eyes He sank into you, falling onto his elbows as his hand that previously gripped his cock flew behind your head, drawing you in for a kiss as he fully entered you.

"Oh fuck baby you're so tight. So good to me. I think I could die happy like this baby."

He stayed in you for a moment, burying his face into your neck before drawing his hips backwards to thrust into you. After a few short thrusts, he let out an animalistic groan into your neck, nipping at the tender skin before pulling out almost entirely, only to slam right back into you.

"Oh fuck, Ced!"

Your hands flew to grip onto his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, the marks that would remain sure to draw wolf whistles from his teammates during practice. His pace hastened, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing around the tower, putting you in a haze.

Cedric's hands gripped your hips as he moved back, his weight on his knees, a new angle that landed straight on your g-spot. You fell into a moaning mess, head spinning with pleasure as he drove thrust after thrust into you.

"So beautiful baby. I love you so much, do you know that?"

One hand left your hip to rub vigorous circles on your clit, your eyes rolling back as the amount of pleasure you felt skyrocketed. Cedric moaned at the sight of you – your back arching off the blanket, sweat glistening off your tits, your hands gripping onto anything you could.

Suddenly, Cedric pulled out of you, making you whine at the feeling of emptiness and the denial to your building orgasm. Your eyes shot open, glaring at the boy. He flipped the two of you over, making you sit on him.

"Ride me, Y/N. Let me see that pretty body in action."

You eagerly moved up onto your knees, the tip of Cedric's cock positioned right under your slit, poking in slightly, making the two of you moan. You sank down onto him, letting out a soft whine as you felt Cedric fill you up, a groan leaving his lips at the same time.

Once he was entirely inside of you, you lifted yourself up, and slammed yourself back down onto Cedric. His hands came to your hips, helping you move as you rode him. Your eyes shut at the sensation, feeling him deeper than ever at the moment, hitting spots you didn't know he could reach. The feelings of euphoria heightened as Cedric trailed his hand to your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub with the same rhythm as the movement of your hips, making you cry out in shock and elation.

You felt your orgasm rising inside of you, the second of the night as the sensations grew, tears brewing in your eyes from how good Cedric felt inside you, how good he felt touching you.

"Are you gonna cum for me pretty girl?"

You nodded, the words unable to escape your lips that were too occupied with the words "Cedric" and "fuck". You tightened around Cedric, who moaned at the feeling, his cock beginning to twitch with the heat that began to pool in his stomach.

"Cum with me Y/N, let me fill you up."

With a final few thrusts, you came with a scream, Cedric following you slightly after, his hips never halting in their actions as he rode out his orgasm, your body growing limp from the exertion of the night.

He brought you down slowly, turning the two of you again so you laid down on the blanket beside him, before slowly withdrawing himself from inside of you, a small whine escaping you from the sudden emptiness you felt. Planting a kiss on your forehead, Cedric moved away the hair that had fallen onto your face, looking into your eyes with love and adoration.

"Feeling better?"

[wh6res]

johnny — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. the closer you are to your soulmate, the warmer you feel. the farther you are, the colder.

synopsis. johnny had always preferred you in winter clothes, anyway. you can say it makes his job a lot easier.

warnings. tread cautiously. smut, swearing, mentions of drugs, mentions of smoking, mentions of stalking, violence, implied kidnapping near the end, johnny's a lil delusional, implied slutshaming

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

inspired by red.

in a world where finding one’s soulmate is a big hot and cold game, having sex for the heck of it proves to be a challenge. who’d be willing to take off their clothes when you literally feel negative degrees because your soulmate lives on the other side of the world?

but it’s weird, really. some people don’t have their soulmates living in another country. some people lucked out and have their soulmate living just across the street, or next to their house, and probably didn’t need all those winter clothes that other people wear.

johnny had eventually developed an unspoken rule to only get with the ones who are bundled up in their ‘lil jackets and parkas, running the other way from people who show more skin. he isn’t a masochist, why’d he want to spend time with someone who’s close to meeting their soulmate?

it hadn’t been two years when johnny met you in the brick alleyway of a local bar near the university, in the shortest, skimpiest outfit he’s ever seen. he tried to stop himself, oh, he truly did, but your cat-like grace and alluring eyes threw him off his game completely. one bottle of cheap beer led to another, exchanging whispers led to kissing, and kissing led to… well, in your mattress.

sure, the springs digging against his back as you rode him like a fucking horse hurt but it has a charm to it. with the pain and pleasure mixing into something so blinding that it was the best sex he’s had for years.

it was only after he'd cummed for the 5th time with you that night and had called it a day, did he realize that you haven’t met your soulmate nor were you feeling any closer to meeting ‘the one’ despite not wearing a jacket in the least.

you don’t know the relief that surged through johnny’s veins when you said…

“what? soulmate? i haven’t met them yet. wait a minute—you thought because of what i’m wearing, my soulmate’s close?” johnny felt a little stupid as you laughed, tugging the bedsheets higher up against your chest. “people i fucked always ask me that but nah, nothing can stop me from wanting to wear something that makes me feel confident.”

there’s something about you that johnny suh cannot pinpoint. it was that annoying feeling of having the words at the tip of your tongue yet being unable to say them. maybe it was the way you talked? the way you acted? or just the charisma you seem to exude so effortlessly? johnny would rather die than admit to anyone that you got him wrapped around your pretty little nimble fingers with just the bat of an eyelash.

he felt like utter shit for literally walking out on you as abruptly as he did (screw drunk taeyong for getting into bar fights again) but at least you guys exchanged numbers and talked about all that needed to be talked about.

when johnny went out that night to try out local bars outside the uni, he never thought he'd be coming back home, sober and satiated, with a new booty call.

the arrangement went on a few more times. and by few, johnny meant a hefty few, considering you saw each other more than his ten fingers can count and had always alternated between his place and yours. although due to taeyong being a constant nuisance (“i’m not just going to fucking move my gaming nights just so you can get your dick bounced, suh!”) he was always at your place, instead.

not that either of you minded. johnny had to sneak in and out of the university because you lived off the campus grounds but it’s well worth it. anyone will do anything for a taste of heaven, right?

not that you were an angel by any means but johnny discovers your moans turn whinier when he addresses you as such. it makes his cock throb with want, hearing you lose yourself underneath or on top of him as he used you to get off.

“isn’t that right, angel? come on tell me how much you love me fucking you. this is what you live for isn’t it?” johnny hisses, leaning forward, his chest touching your back as he railed you from behind.

you were way too lost in the pleasure to even answer him properly. you just felt so full, the slight curve of his cock aiding him to hit all the right places whenever he ruts his hips forward. he doesn’t even need to use his hands on you and johnny revels at how amazingly responsive you are.

all he can hear is you and boy was it enough to get him off. from your moans, to the clapping, to the lewd squelching sounds, to the springs of the mattress poking your front. everything is leading up to that moment you’re both chasing, that searing pleasure of climaxing.

when he feels you getting closer, he flips you onto your back, wanting to see your face twisted in sheer ecstasy when he makes you cum.

“johnny!” you scream when he hauls your legs over his shoulder, hitting impossibly deeper, grazing the walls of your cervix. “shit, shit, shit—i’m going to—”

he halts all movements.

the answering whine he got from you made him quickly wrap a hand around your throat, the other gripping your hips so hard you just know it’ll leave a nasty bruise the next morning. “you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart. go on—you live for my cock, don’t you?”

“johnny, come on—ah!” he cuts you off with a pointed look, the hard thrust rendering you speechless as he wraps his hand just a wee bit tighter around your neck.

“what did i say about whiny angels, hmm?” he leans down to your ear, puffing his hot breath with every word he spoke and drawing more beads of sweat on the side of your face. “go on, love, don’t be shy. i know you love my cock but i don’t tolerate you ignoring my questions.”

well, you’re fucked—figuratively—as you fail to remember whatever question he asked you only seconds ago.

you squeeze your eyes shut when he starts moving in the slowest pace possible, teasing you and making you work for it. as if your dilemma is written clear on your face, johnny coos, tilting his head. “what… is my angel having trouble?”

the surprised moan you let out when he gives another hard thrust sends shivers down his spine. he revels at your scrunched up face, both from the pleasure and wracking your brain frantically for whatever johnny wants because you sure as hell know that he’ll keep this pace up just to torture you.

“johnny,” you plead, nuzzling your face by his forearm propped beside your head. but one look at his face and you know he won’t drop it no matter how much you plead and beg for you to finish. “i didn’t—didn’t hear what you asked—”

“that’s just too bad, now, is it?” you squirm underneath him with one particular hard thrust, your head nearly hitting the wall behind the mattress.

“please… re—repeat the question? i promise i’ll do anything! you know i will! i’m—i’m your angel, right? i’ll do anything! just—”

“fuck the question,” he gasps, feeling you clenching around him as he gives in to the pleasure he wants to feel. screw pretenses. “that’s good enough.”

he started yet again his brutal pace, stopping only after you finished so he could pull out, ropes of his essence painting your naked stomach.

johnny doesn’t immediately slump next to you, reaching forward to the box of tissues lying on the floor next to the mattress so he can clean you up. he knows your heart flutters when he takes care of you after, that’s why he does it always, without fail. he can feel your hammering heart as he wiped away all of his sticky cum off your torso.

both of you are shivering underneath the thin blanket. with the nature of the soulmate rules plus the busted heater in your apartment, being naked as the day you were born is quite a bad idea unless you want to suffer from hypothermia.

“want a cig?”

johnny chuckles, putting an arm up to support his head. “you always ask me that and i’ll always say the same thing. i—”

“don’t smoke.” you finish his sentence, your giggle rings akin to that of a little girl as you click the lighter, angling your head so the cigarette butt will reach the small flame.

“those things’ll kill you,” johnny mumbles, eyeing a discolored portion of the ceiling.

you snort, tempted to blow the smoke directly to his face but you know what happened before—angry sex with johnny suh borders more on pain than pleasure… but masochists are made to love the pain, aren’t they?

johnny bolts upright in a coughing fit, the springs of the mattress groaning in agony with the sudden movement. only after he’s composed himself again after that small blast of smoke you blew towards him did he start glaring at you. yet his annoyance dissipates the moment he sees the eagerness and mischief swirling in your eyes.

“you’re gonna fucking pay for that.”

johnny doesn’t like thinking that he’s growing attached. what the heck is taeyong even saying? feelings make everything messy and the last thing johnny wants to do is mess up whatever the fuck you guys have—not friends, not lovers, just smack dab in the middle.

so why is he so affected by the sudden infrequency of your texts? you used to reply within seconds after johnny asks if he can come over, now it takes you hours and more often than not johnny has already taken care of the problem himself by the time you replied.

and your texting style has gradually started to change, as well. gone are the days you’d humor him when he gives poorly disguised sexual innuendos for the fun of it. when johnny does end up coming over, you’re still as noisy and whiny as a bitch in heat but… there’s something off with everything. 

with you.

johnny’s just concerned. can he not feel that way? concern doesn’t automatically equal to any romantic feelings whatsoever, right?

“are you okay?” he asks, never the type to beat around the bush with someone. he tries to force out a chuckle, afraid whatever he said sounded a tad too serious. “i mean, i don’t know. is there something wrong—”

“i met him.”

“who?”

one look in your eyes and johnny knew you were pertaining to your soulmate.

he dashes over to you in a heartbeat, running his hands down your arms but before he can even reach your hands, you’ve hissed and pushed him away. “you’re hands are freezing, johnny!”

it was only a moment, seconds of touching you yet he can feel you weren’t as cold as you used to and it only meant one thing.

johnny’s smart enough to know he wasn’t your soulmate because if it was, you would’ve gotten warmer from the day you two met—but no, you were as cold as him, and had excused fucking each other as a means of sharing body heat. but even if that was the case, you both have made the agreement to still see or fuck around each other even after meeting your own respective soulmates.

jesus christ, you were the one who brought the issue up! and now… now what’s this bullshit he’s hearing from you?

“i can’t—can’t do this anymore, john,” you say firmly as you stand across the room, far away from him. hugging yourself as if you were the one breaking and not johnny. “we’d be hurting other people—”

“but you said—”

“i know what i said,” you snap, piercing eyes heatedly finding his. “i was stupid back then, i thought i can keep this up but—the guilt, johnny. you don’t know how guilty i fucking feel!”

“guilty?” he asks incredulously, taken aback of the implications of that one word.

you being guilty meant you’ve already met and have probably spent a reasonable amount of time with your soulmate (so that’s what you’ve been doing for the duration of you not talking to him). you being guilty meant you’re not exactly the proudest with whatever relationship you have with johnny and had probably kept your little midnight rendezvous with him a secret to your soulmate. you being guilty meant the sex you had only an hour ago was meant to be a goodbye of sorts, if the apologetic look you’re shooting him is anything to go by.

“look,” he’s never heard you sound so defeated before. “it was great, okay? the time i had with you, sex and aftercare and pillowtalk—all that shit. it was great but we both know it’s going to end eventua—”

“is the sex that good?”

“excuse me?”

“oh, i see,” johnny says condescendingly, a tone he’s never used when talking to you before but you’re leaving him with no choice. “he’s bigger, is that it? that has to be it. i wouldn’t put it past you, anyway—”

the slap you gave him only served to make his cock twitch under his sweatpants.

“leave.”

staring isn’t a crime. what can a pair of eyes do? it may be sharp like a knife and heavy like a gun in one’s hands but other than that can it physically do any harm? the answer’s simple—no, it fucking can’t. this is why johnny, for the life of him, can’t fathom as to why and what taeyong is so pressed about. johnny never thought him as a nagger, but his friend has transformed into an overgrown bat hovering behind his shoulders as if he’s some kid in need of monitoring.

“you call her a slut and now you’re being a stalker. wow, john, how utterly irresistible you’ve become.” taeyong looks so unfazed by johnny’s sharp eyes that the taller male’s fingers twitched in annoyance.

“i’m not stalking her!” he hisses under his breath, elbowing taeyong’s ribs only to curse when his bone hits the plethora of enamel pins stuck on his friend’s leather jacket. “and i didn’t call her a slut, either. get your facts straight.”

“but you implied it didn’t you?”

before johnny can even growl out a response, taeyong has quickly slipped into the bodies dancing in the middle of the bar.

so what if you were here? so what if this is the same bar you guys met? johnny’s not here for you. fuck, no. he’s here because this bar is closest to the uni and he isn’t in the mood to walk farther than a few blocks.

but no matter how much he claims otherwise, actions have always rang louder than words and johnny knows he’s creating a fool out of himself every time his eyes stray a little too far left and onto your figure, sitting next to a guy whose arm is wrapped around your waist like a vice.

but that’s not the interesting part—johnny wonders why your soulmate has another girl pressed up on his left.

oh, that’s your soulmate alright. judging by how you’d fan yourself fruitlessly with your hands, judging by how you’d cradle the glass filled with cheap beer and ice in hopes of the cold remedying your dried up palms.

but what sold you out? it’s how your eyes met his from way across the room. he knows you enough to see the apprehension and shock in your face only to quickly school it into indifference. the moment you glanced between him and that shitty soulmate of yours, he knows you’ll come crawling back into his arms—it’d only be a matter of time.

and not even hours later johnny’s phone rang and he stared down at your caller id with a sense of pride and sick entertainment rushing through his veins.

he knew he won, he just knew he did.

“and what does the angel need in such an hour?”

funny how you kicked him out of your apartment and now you’re ringing up his cell on the exact time you used to meet each other when you fucked around.

you’ve always been someone he can’t read, someone he can’t understand. may it be your logic, or your actions, or the words you say but it was all part of the appeal. a mystery johnny can’t help but want to unfold. when you called, the last thing he had ever expected was to hear you half-crying and half-moaning out his name like a mantra. he hears the sharp slick sounds and your shaky breath and knows exactly what you’ve been up to.

johnny isn’t a cruel person. it’d be mean of him to not give in when you had asked him so nicely.

“i’ll be there in five, angel.”

you wind back to each other for numerous times even after that night. you yourself always in the same predicament of being high as a fucking cloud, and johnny constantly getting flashbacks of the first few weeks he had with you.

but the way you treated each other has long passed the blurry lines of unspoken boundaries. you just felt so warm lying between his arms that he can’t help but tuck you in tighter, running fingers through your hair as you slept like a baby next to him and not on your soulmate’s bed.

johnny thought he’d won after you came back to him. how foolish of him to think that winning had something to do with this when it had everything to do with the small sparks of desire eating away at his insides—the desire to have you all for himself.

johnny scowls when you ask him to be quiet while in the middle of sex just because your soulmate called. johnny scowls when you refuse to meet up with him because you already have “plans” with your soulmate. johnny scowls when he smells a faint cologne that doesn’t belong to him on the whole of your apartment.

you yawn, subconsciously trying to shrug off johnny’s arms from your body in your sleep as you turned your back on him.

but want to know what johnny hates the most? what leaves a taste so bitter in his tongue that his whole day becomes a whole fucking mess? you trying to push him away… only to throw yourself back right into his arms.

how confusing can you be? how much more of the awful migraines will you let johnny endure? you’re driving him up the wall, pushing him to the edges of his sanity and the frustration only serves to add fuel to the fire.

what was so great about your soulmate that you can’t leave the bastard for good? johnny’s not stupid, he’s seen hickies countless of times to know that some purple marks on your skin are more than that—those weren’t hickies, they’re bruises. and god knows how much johnny hurts inside when you flinch away from him when all he wanted to do was pick away a fallen eyelash on your cheek.

he needed to save you, to snatch you away from the horrors of tartarus to worship you like a goddess again. and when he mulled everything over and over and over in his head, he only came up with one thing.

johnny perks up when he feels the phone vibrating on his lap, your caller id flashing in the dark room as he gamed on his pc. he eyes the phone in the corner of his eyes, contemplating the choices he will make. it’s not that he doesn’t know it’s wrong, but he needs you to wake the fuck up and you were taking too little too long for his taste.

his ringtone is deafening in the quiet room, he watches it vibrate against the table for a few more seconds until it stops. you have one missed phone call/, it says on his notifications.

the screen turns black.

he makes his move.

“what took you so long?” you whine, eyes red and seeing everything in a kaleidoscope as you stumble towards the door in a haste to get to johnny. you hear him strut through the door, shutting it close before hearing the soft pads of his shoes hitting the floor when he toes them off.

“i had to run errands, angel.”

with your hazy mind, you don’t detect the scratchiness of his voice. it’s as if he screamed his heart out until his own voice started to feel like knives against his throat every time he spoke. you were too high, too stoned, that you thought he sounded like melted chocolate, the drugs fucking up your whole system.

you giggle, folding in on yourself as you slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall with your knees tucked under your chin. “what kind of errands?”

“want me to show you?”

you were giggling when you signed your death wish. “yes, please!”

when he leans down, you didn’t smell the metallic scent that seemed to cling onto his clothes, didn’t see the splotches of red that ruined his favorite white shirt, didn’t taste his inhumanity when he leaned down to capture your lips into a heated kiss.

everything is under a thick layer of guise when you look down high up from cloud nine. but if only your feet had been anchored to the ground, maybe you would’ve seen everything as it was—would’ve seen the bat as it comes swinging down the back of your head after he’d pulled away. not enough to kill, just enough to knock you out. the clock starts from there.

johnny needed to be efficient, quick on his feet, as he incapacitated you with enough cable ties and darted around your apartment to shove everything in his duffel bag.

he mumbles to himself as he slots you inside the modest clothes he bought—he’s seen your closet enough to know that there wasn’t enough clothes that can keep you warm, so instead, he made you wear his own.

“this isn’t my fault,” johnny says under his breath as if trying to convince himself. “she forced my hand. forced me to do it. this is her fault.”

with all your big talk of able to withstand the coldness from when you had yet to meet your soulmate, he knew you won’t be able to handle the freezing heights brought by the temperature now that he left your soulmate to rot in a ditch.

this isn’t my fault. this isn’t my fault. this isn’t my fault.

[platypanthewriter]

Third Time's The Charm (Mindflayer: Take three)

Day Two of Harringrove AUgust, prompt:  Darkside AU

Billy’s eyelids felt as dry and crisp as potato chips as he tried to force them open. He could hear the shuffle of shoes against the linoleum, and the beeps and whirs of the hospital equipment, and then something brushed his face. Cool fingers.

“Open your eyes, William,” said Steve Harrington’s calm voice, and Billy jerked back in the bed, blinking at the dark shape hovering over him. His bandages tugged, and he flinched at the deep ache in his chest.

“Harrington,” he tried to say, but it came out more of a hoarse wheeze.

“I pushed you too hard before,” Harrington said, “—with no reward, but I think I know how you work, now. You want this boy, don’t you?”

“What,” Billy breathed, staring.

“You want him to pat you with his fleshy paws,” said the thing that was not Harrington, and Billy laughed sharply as Harrington’s hand stroked up his bare arm, and ran a thumb up his jaw. The thing smiled. “You want to taste his saliva.”

“Gross,” Billy choked out, shaking, but the thing leaned in, and Harrington’s lips were warm on his own.

“You will help me,” said the Mindflayer, pulling back, “—and you will have what you want.”

“Let him go,” Billy whispered, with no actual hope that it would. “What—what do you want?”

“You know what I want,” it said, and Billy’s stomach churned, remembering. “And if I don’t have it, I will—”

“Wait, I—I’ll do it,” Billy breathed.

It wasn’t hard to pick a victim—Billy’s dad may have been completely reasonable in hating his faggot son, but he was shitty to Max too, and Susan, and Billy’s mom—and there weren’t a lot of people he figured would listen to Billy Hargrove.

Problem was, Billy’s dad didn’t want to be lured out. Billy stared at the phone in the phone booth, thinking, and then tried saying he was injured at the abandoned drive-in theater on the edge of town—his car had broken down—and his dad just suggested he learn to not drink and drive.

As Billy tried to think of something more convincing to say, the Mindflayer grabbed the phone, and said “This is Steve Harrington, sir. We could really use your help. Bring the sheriff.”

There was a pause, and Billy knew his dad was repeating the name Harrington, like he always did talking about the richest family in town, the ones with the life he wanted, the people he wanted his family to match up to.

“See you soon,” said the Mindflayer, but it was frowning with Steve Harrington’s face, and Billy wondered whether Steve was the one who’d grabbed the phone.

 Billy’s dad didn’t take long, pulling up to the phone booth in the parking lot of the abandoned drive-through theater, and slamming the door of his car. He hadn’t brought the sheriff. Harrington grabbed his arm as he reached for Billy—and Billy didn’t have to watch, now, what the Mindflayer did with its victims.

He sat gripping one of the dilapidated benches, curled over to puke at the sounds, until he heard shoes scuff towards him again, and looked up to see a smile on Steve Harrington’s face. The Mindflayer knew which muscles to contract for a smile, Billy reflected distantly, but it didn’t look quite like a person, more like a doll, a ventriloquist’s dummy’s wide-stretched grin.

“Get up,” the thing said, and Billy staggered to his feet as his father—not his father, anymore, he reminded himself, another thing—drove away. The Mindflayer yanked him up when he didn’t move fast enough, nearly yanking his arm out of its socket as it slammed him against the bottom edge of the old projection screen. “Time for your reward. Take what you want,” it said. “Do you want to put things in his holes?”

“No!” Billy wheezed, wincing as it clenched Steve’s hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. He screamed as his collarbone broke under the force of its grip. It fixed Harrington’s mouth over his, hot and clumsy, and Billy tried to just let it happen, his brain a jumble of pain, lust, and terror as Harrington’s grip closed around his neck, and teeth clonked into his—until Harrington’s voice sounded different, suddenly, low and urgent.

“Let me,” he said. “Let me, let me, you’re killing him—you can’t—if you kill him, he can’t help you—”

“Harrington,” Billy gasped, choking for air, and then Harrington was really kissing him, one hand steadying Billy’s jaw, the other against Billy’s side, holding him steady as he staggered.

It was so good, Billy thought, his stomach twisting with revulsion, the pain of his broken collarbone making him pant as his eyes filled with tears.

“You taste like puke,” Harrington said, making a face, but he leaned in again, his brown eyes open as his lips met Billy’s and opened against them.

Billy moaned, a little—he couldn’t help it, not with Steve Harrington’s actual hands on him, and Steve’s tongue against his. Even possessed by a monster, Harrington looked kinda smug, and Billy hated him still, a little, for barely knowing Billy existed, and all the things Billy’d done by himself to survive, because he didn’t have anyone he could call.

Harrington had friends, Billy reminded himself. Billy didn’t need to think too hard about kissing Harrington, because Harrington’s friends would come, and they’d stop the Mindflayer, and help him, and Harrington wouldn’t come to himself a bloody mess at the mall, barely able to keep from murdering a child.

Somebody’d probably put a bullet in Billy’s brain, he thought, hissing in pain as Harrington shifted closer, and the broken edges of Billy’s collarbone scraped together. His brain filled with the white noise of pain, and he shuddered as he felt the new scraping agony of his collarbone, and the old, dull ache of his wound at the mall.

Harrington’s hands were careful, tipping Billy’s head to kiss him deeper.

His friends would kill the Mindflayer for good, Billy thought, humming a little hysterically against Harrington’s lips. They’d make sure Billy’s body didn’t get used again, either to transport a monster, or as leverage. All Billy had to do was keep the Mindflayer distracted, until then. Until they saved Harrington, and put Billy down.

“Enough,” came the still, calm voice from Harrington’s mouth, and the smile, as he stepped back.

“Who else do you want me to lure out here,” Billy asked, his hands flat against the wall of screen behind him to keep himself upright. The Mindflayer’s face twitched, and Billy wondered, his whole left shoulder and side pounding with pain, whether Harrington wished Billy’d let him die.

 The Mindflayer suggested Steve’s girlfriend, Wheeler. “We need him to stop fighting,” it said, smiling as it staggered and nearly fell. Billy walked away, breathing through the pain as he tried to get far enough away to call without the Mindflayer hearing.

He stepped into the phone booth and ruffled through the pages until he found Henderson—the kid he’d seen Steve with, the one whose name he was fairly sure of, because he hung around Max. “The Mindflayer has Harrington,” he said, flatly. “You gotta...trap him, or something. Better than you did me.”

“What in the hell,” the kid started, and Billy sighed.

“We’re at the drive-through theater,” he said. “He’s gonna be suspicious if I try to lure him anywhere.”

“Max has been looking for you,” Henderson said, and Billy bet she had.

“Hurry up and do something,” he said, watching the Mindflayer, in Steve Harrington’s body. It waved. “It’s gonna kill me,” he said, feeling a weird calm distance at the words, “—and I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna stop it, this time.”

“Shit,” Henderson said.  "We'll need some time to get ready."

“Oh, also,” Billy said, nearly high with pain, adrenaline, despair, and the taste of Harrington’s kisses. “I gave it my dad. That’s important, right?” he asked. “You probably need to know that too.”

“Holy shit, you fed it a person?! Your dad?!” Henderson yelled, and Billy nodded, running his tongue over his teeth as he sighed.

“Yeah, I’m a monster.” He snorted a laugh and hung up, wandered out to sit on the bench next to the Mindflayer, and watch the sunset. After a couple of hours of staring at the sky, he reached over and squeezed the Mindflayer’s wrist.

“You’ll let him go if I do everything you want?” he asked, and the Mindflayer smiled again.

Billy’d thought he’d be reassuring Harrington by asking—even if he didn’t believe for a second that the Mindflayer would just politely leave—but then he remembered that Harrington could probably tell the same thing, and that he, Billy, was a moron.

 When the sirens started, Billy winced. “I called the sheriff,” he said. “Told him I wanted to turn myself in. Told him I...took you.”

“The sheriff,” repeated the Mindflayer, focusing its unblinking stare down the road.

When the sheriff arrived, it wasn’t in his usual vehicle—it was a huge old Jeep, and he scrambled down with a groan, stretching until his back popped, and wiping sweat from his face. “Get in, boys,” he said, sighing, and jerking his thumb at the Jeep. When Billy was slow getting up—any motion of his arms flexed his collarbone, and his legs felt shaky on their own—the sheriff grabbed him by the shoulder.

Billy swallowed back a high noise in the back of his throat, realizing wildly that there was no reason to believe the Mindflayer had Harrington, no reason to believe him, only a waste of space they’d all seen possessed before, now making threatening phone calls. He closed his eyes, grimacing, and waited for the gasoline to soak him, or the muzzle of the gun to be pressed to his head, but the sheriff just watched Harrington walk towards the Jeep.

Harrington—the Mindflayer, Billy reminded himself—yelled, and he opened his eyes to see him lying on the ground, while the deputies, Hopper, and some other people held him down with their feet. Billy stared, watching the thing try and pretend they were wrong, laughing and pointing at Billy. They were wrapping his whole body in what looked like duct tape, wrapping his arms to his body and his legs together as he thrashed and swore.

It was probably assuming it would kill them while they drove, he realized, and opened his mouth, but they just tossed it into the Jeep and closed the doors, just watching it, like the Jeep was gonna take the Mindflayer back to the future, or start driving itself, or something.

Harrington started screaming. His feet banged against the inside of the tailgate, and the sheriff wandered back over to Billy.

“They trained us in those Jeeps for the National Guard, and for ‘Nam,” he said, with satisfaction. “The heaters can melt the snow two meters around, in January.”

“What,” Billy asked, completely lost. The sheriff put his hands on his belt, and Billy held his arms out, wrists together, expecting the cuffs, this time, but the man just shook his head, his lips thin.

“Go siddown, kid,” he said. “We’ll get you back to the hospital.”

 Billy awoke again to the beeping of hospital machines. His arm was in a sling, and he remembered his broken collarbone, wresting his eyes open on the ceiling, and a dark shape. He flinched, hissing with pain, and Harrington’s voice came again.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I just—I feel like—”

“Fuck,” Billy breathed, shutting his eyes again.

“It seems wrong to thank you for...that,” Harrington muttered. “But you—your dad—you’re why I’m alive, so. Uh. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Billy sighed, wondering if he sold everything—his car, his records—if he could afford a plane flight back to California, and out of this conversation where the straight boy he’d masturbated over—who’d gotten possessed, who Billy’d groped and kissed while he was possessed—thanked Billy for helping him murder Billy’s dad.

“...so. Yeah,” Harrington said awkwardly, and Billy snorted a laugh.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” he whispered, his throat raw.

“You did all that to save me,” Harrington said, blankly. “All it had to do was take me, and you helped.”

“I got a history with that thing,” Billy reminded him, rolling his eyes.

“You’re a really horny bastard,” Steve said, still vaguely, like he was figuring it out, and Billy started laughing so hard he hurt. “Y’know who else pulls pigtails,” Harrington said, darkly. “Kids, that’s who. Children. Fucking...kindergartners.”

It wasn’t even that funny, but knowing Harrington knew, and wasn’t pissed off, was such a relief Billy couldn’t stop giggling. His eyes blurred with tears.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Harrington said, belatedly, and Billy breathed out a sigh he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

“...d’you know what they’re gonna do with me?” he asked, hoarsely.

“What?” Harrington asked.

“I wasn’t possessed,” Billy whispered, laughing, a sharp painful bark. “Why am I—am I going to jail, or—?”

“No,” Steve said, blinking at him. “No, you saved me. We’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t believe you wanna be in the same room as me,” Billy laughed again, shutting his eyes and cringing through the pain.

“...oh,” Harrington said, and Billy winced. “I don’t...I don’t mind if you’re in love with me,” he said, and in the cold blue light from the hallway, Billy could see a smirk on Harrington’s stupid face. “I know you’d do anything for me now, right,” he said, grinning.

I don’t love you, I just wanna fuck you, Billy thought of saying, or I’m a fucking faggot, I’d do anyone, or I thought I was gonna die anyway, moron, something to shock Harrington out of looking illogically happy to find out Billy was willing to commit murder if Steve Harrington was a hostage. “...fuck,” Billy whispered.

“Oh! I know...your um, your...dad,” Harrington said incomprehensibly, grimacing. “But uh, Max and Susan are okay,” he said, squeezing Billy’s hand, like that was a thing now, and Billy stared at him, remembering squeezing Harrington’s wrist, when he thought they’d both die. “Thanks for saving me, Hargrove,” he said again, his hand tight over Billy’s, and Billy swallowed, watching his face. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

Harrington sat beside him the whole night, his warm thumb stroking Billy’s wrist after Billy’s eyes drifted closed.

[comfortwriting]

Ashtray - D.M part 1

Masterlist, Posting Schedule, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Draco Malfoy x Fem Gryffindor Smoker Reader

Part 2 , Part 3

About: After years of bullying the reader, Draco catches her smoking, at first he doesn’t care and doesn’t think much of it. Draco suddenly finds himself crushing on the reader, realising how bad smoking is and freaks out.

Warnings: mention of cancer, heart disease, lung disease, the word mudblood.

“He’s staring at you again” Harry muttered.

You, Ron and Harry were standing in the court yard, Hermione with her head stuck in a book. You looked across to see the platinum blonde haired boy that hated your guts, sitting in a tree, Crabbe and Goyle making him laugh. 

“Just ignore it Harry” you said softly, “you’ve got enough on your plate this year”

Harry didn’t answer and continued to stare down Draco, squinting at him through his glasses.

Sighing you turned around and checked sneakily in your bag for your cigarette packet, unfortunately you had left it behind the in dorm room. Your fingers were itching for a smoke, you hated not being able to sneak off for one between classes, especially on sunny days like these when everyone was outside.

“It’s a bit odd that he has it in for you” Ron spoke up, shoving a jelly slug in his mouth “I mean - you haven’t given him a reason to.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, pulling herself out of her book “it’s because she’s with us, you idiot”

“no” you replied “even before I joined you lot, Draco’s been unpleasant.” 

Speaking of the devil, Draco and his two stocky sheep strutted over to you, each of them smirking and laughing at you. 

Your heart pained for a moment, Draco had to be the most gorgeous lad you ever laid eyes on during your time at Hogwarts, but unfortunately he was also the rudest and most arrogant of the lot. 

You couldn’t explain why you were so into him, you only know the bad parts of him - yet baffling enough, you wanted to see the good parts of him more than anything and funnily enough, Draco only knew the good parts of you, yet he yearned for the bad in you. 

“Look what we’ve found here boys” Draco smirked, stopping in his tracks “a peasant, a mud blood, an orphan and..” he paused, his eyes searching you. 

“a tosspot?” you answered for him, smirking back “you’ve got to do better than that, Malfoy.”

Draco’s face dropped and the same old frustrated look splashed across his face.

This was the first time he couldn’t think of something on his feet, you had caught him out in front of both his friends and yours, you would relish making him look stupid for the rest of the school year. 

Draco stepped out in front of you, Crabbe and Goyle waiting behind him. You stepped out from your shield of friends and stared the blonde down, Ron could barely contain himself.  

Draco didn’t know why he hated you, well, part of him did - you’re a Gryffindor, you’re best-friends with the people he hates most and worst of all, you could outsmart him. But the other part of him didn’t feel that hate or maliciousness towards you, he didn’t like you or dislike you - he was only forcing himself to hate you. 

He had to think of something, the longer he stayed silent the more stupid he looked. 

“You’re ugly and you smell like a filthy ashtray” he spat at you, turning around  he walked away with Crabbe and Goyle pretending to laugh to make him feel better. 

You burst out laughing and flipped him off. 

“Ugly, wow.” you breathed.

Ron couldn’t help but laugh “it’s alright for you isn't it? ashtray - some insult that, you sure you don’t fancy him or something?.”

You slapped his shoulder playfully “don’t talk crap, Ron.”

‘He isn’t entirely wrong though’

 You glanced at Harry and Hermione “Are you two okay?” you asked, feeling bad about what Draco said and for not defending them. 

The two of them looked at one another and back at you, nodding. 

“We’ve got an important exam to prepare for, you coming with?” Hermione asked.

You shook your head, your fingers now unbearably itchy and your head desperately pleading for a smoke.

“nah, I’ve got some homework to do, see you later?” 

Waving and walking away, you went to your dorm, your head filling with thoughts of the blonde. 

“so stupid” Draco cursed under his breath, pacing around the empty Slytherin common room. 

No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t rid the pictures of you flashing in his head: the sound of your laugh, your voice answering questions in potions, the scent of your hair, your smile, the way you walked across the Quidditch pitch - Draco found himself drowning in a sea of confusion. 

‘I can’t fancy her, father will see rage’

He shook his head and pushed his soft blonde hair back, he couldn’t be developing feelings for you, no way - you must have put a spell on him, hexed him even. 

Finally lighting your cigarette, you inhaled, pulling it away from between your lips, holding it between your index and middle finger, the inside of your mouth warming up. Looking out at the great lake, you admired the beautiful reflection of the sky and beaming sun waving in the water. 

Draco left the common room and searched the entire school grounds for you, he finally approached the great lake and felt satisfied when he saw you. 

Getting ready to scold you and disarm you, he stopped in his tracks, your beauty stunning him. Although you were smoking, this didn’t bother Draco, it made sense for the nickname he gave you, but even when breathing in toxic chemicals, nothing could stop his heart from racing.

He wanted to pull you into him for a long and loving embrace, to share an intense kiss flowing with the pent up feelings the two of you were hiding, he wanted to make you his - he wanted to protect you. 

Managing to pull himself out of his trance, he continued to approach you. 

Exhaling, you heard a familiar sharp voice pop out from behind you. 

“Tell me what you’ve done, ashtray!” 

Turning around, Draco stormed over to you like he did earlier on, his hair and robes blowing in the wind. 

Noticing the cigarette resting between your fingers, you started to choke on the smoke out of panic, instantly dropping your cigarette onto the floor and stamping on it in a hurry - but he had already caught you. 

“Done what?” you breathed out, coughing even more into your fist.

“You know exactly what you’ve done, trying to mess with my head!” he hissed. 

You stared at him like he had two heads.

 “Malfoy, sort yourself out, will you? I’ve got no bloody idea what you’re talking about. Get lost off if you’ve got nothing better to do!”

Draco scoffed and pointed at you “if you don’t give me an explanation by tonight I’ll do you in for smoking.” 

the sun beams outlined Draco as if he were an angel, he turned around and strutted off, you watched him leave and searched your packet for another cigarette, cursing yourself for putting a full one out without needing to.

Feeding your bad habit, you pondered around trying to figure out what Draco was talking about.

‘Messing with his head?’

“Where have you been?” Pansy asked, relieved to see Draco entering the  common room.

Draco stared at Pansy for a moment, Crabbe and Goyle sitting down.

He couldn’t allow them to figure him out, his undying crush on you, he had to keep this act up, he needed to protect himself. 

“If that ashtray doesn’t confess by tonight, she’ll be out of this school.”

Pansy grunted “let her continue to smoke, Draco. She’s killing herself by doing so.”

Draco got a sinking feeling in his stomach, he didn’t really want you gone from Hogwarts and he sure as hell didn’t want you dead.

Draco pondered whether or not it would be worth addressing and accepting his feelings so he can confess and move forward, he hated keeping the truth to himself and lying about it.

“What?” He stared at Pansy.

Pansy yawned “cancer, heart disease, lung disease, let her put herself at risk to all that.”

Draco didn’t know much about cigarettes, they never appealed to him but he now hated them within seconds. The beautiful images of you were replaced with sickly ones, the sound of your laughter replaced with your wheezing and croaky voice.

The platinum blonde haired boy couldn’t sleep that night, he tossed and turned, his head screaming at him to approach you, to stop you from damaging yourself, even if nothing happened between the two of you.

Creeping around the school in your pyjamas, you silently tip toed past the great hall, praying to get outside for your last smoke of the night.

Feeling a hand grab you, you clamped your hand over you mouth, silencing your screams.

The taller person who had taken hold of you had his finger against his lips, his eyes burning into you with not hate.. but love and a slight hint of concern.

Your hand fell beside you “What are you doing?” You hissed lowly at him.

Draco noticed the cigarette packet in your other hand, he snatched them from you and stuffed them into his pockets.

“Draco, I didn’t do anything I for Merlins sake!—“

Draco couldn’t take his brain screaming anymore, his heart pining, he couldn’t ignore the images of you, the sound of your laughter - he wanted you, he wanted it all.

You didn’t call him Malfoy.

Smashing his lips against yours, he silenced you with a long, meaningful kiss.

Draco felt relieved, the heaviness coming from the bricks sitting on his shoulders had tumbled off, his thoughts finally silenced, his heart finally lighter and the best thing of all - he got reassurance; you were kissing back.

The taste of green apples filled your mouth, instantly making you nervous if all he got in return was more ashtray. 

Your heart skipped beats, the butterflies in your stomach flapping their wings and taking flight, fireworks exploded between your lips. 

Draco pulled away and his soft expression turned hard, you stared at him trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“You’re stopping smoking” Draco ordered quietly.

Looking around for Mr Filch and Mrs Norris, you turned your attention back on Draco.

“Why do you care? I’ve given you an answer and you’re going to do me in anyway—“

Draco sighed, his words coming up like vomit.

“Wait, why did you kiss me?” you asked, your fingers running over your lips.

“I don’t want you to put your health at stake, Y/N!” Draco took your hands in his.

“I don’t even know why I’m doing this, I don’t know why I’m so attracted to you but for as long as I do have feelings for you - you’re not doing this to yourself.”

You looked into his beautiful gleaming ice grey eyes, chewing on your lip nervously “You have feelings for me?” you began to smirk. 

Draco put his head in his hands “I just kissed you didn’t I?” 

You nodded and pursed your lips, this whole encounter going from awkward to cringe, yet so sweet and innocent. 

“Well I kissed back”

Draco gave you the ‘no shit sherlock’ look “I had no idea, ashtray mouth” 

You slapped him playfully like you did Ron this morning, the two of you starting to laugh quietly, your heart fluttering at his smile, his perfectly pearly white teeth. 

“I have feelings for you too, Draco”

“No..” Ron squealed under the invisibility cloak.

Trying to step out and batter Draco, Harry grabbed Ron by the back of his jumper, holding him back. 

“shut it, will you!” Harry hissed. 

Ron gave him a look “she’s sleeping with the enemy!”

Harry wanted to slap his best friend around the head “they’ve just kissed, look I’m not happy about it either—“

“I thought Hermione was bad enough with Krum-” Ron whined.

[george-fabian-weasley]

George Weasley — Wonder Part 1

Summary: Best friends since the Sorting Hat, you have developed a curious feeling towards George Weasley recently. And you wonder, what it's like to be loved by him.

Words: 2,951 words

Warnings ⚠ : Slow-burn, Angst (kinda)

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"What does that one looks like?" You said, pointing to a constellation in the sky as you laid down onto the grass, right in front of Hagrid's hut. Beside you left and right were Fred and George Weasley.

You three had snuck out of the Gryffindor common room in the middle of the night to watch the stars. They have been exceptionally bright these days, so you figured why not.

Hagrid didn't mind you three, in fact he even prepared three mugs of hot chocolate in case you get cold outside.

"Kinda looks like an elephant, don't you think?" Fred mused, squinting his eyes hard to see the imaginary lines connecting to each star. "More like a dog to me." George chattered, clearly enjoying the cool breeze of the night.

"What do you see, Meredith?" Fred asked with a mischievous smile. You rolled your eyes, he used your middle name even when he knew you hated it as a tease sometimes. "Well, Gideon," Fred instantly groaned in cringe while George laughed in satisfaction, "I see a bloody goose." You laughed and high-fived with George.

"Never again am I telling my middle name to you." Fred chuckled in defeat, yet grinning as you out-teased him, as per usual.

You cackled in victory, "Ha, the sweet taste of victory sure taste good." You laughed again, holding your stomach. The twins had known that you were the type to be amused easily, and this was one of those moments. They watched you laugh with a few chuckles out of them themselves, sometimes your laugh were contagious.

After you had calmed down, the scene was serene again. "I wish we could do this more often." You muttered loud enough for the boys to hear. "Hmm, I dunno, Y/N. Reckon doing it more often would be quite boring, wouldn't it?" Fred spoke, the look of slight disagreement rested on his face.

You pouted slightly, not that you minded. Fred has always been an outspoken person, this is normal to you.

"Maybe next time we could do a night picnic? Sneak some food out from the kitchens, bribe the house elves not to tell a soul, and voilà." George offered an idea, his eyes occasionally glanced at you, then looked back to the stars above.

You widened your eyes in surprise as you quickly sat up and turned to his direction with twinkling eyes, "Really? We could do that?"

George scoffed a smile at you and slightly chuckled, "Of course we could do that, why couldn't we?"

Suddenly the time seemed like it stopped. You blinked at George, whoa okay since when did he look so good? He was smiling at you with his arm supporting his head while the other rested on his stomach, unintentionally flexing his outer-line biceps as the sweater Molly had given him last Christmas had become a little small.

Wait, what?

"Y/N? Y/N Meredith Y/L/N, do you hear me?" You blinked back to reality as Fred called your name. "Blimey, you really found the galaxy in George's eyes, didn't you?" Fred teased.

Before you could even answer, the voice of Mr. Filch was suddenly present, "Who's there?"

"Shit, hide, hide." George instantly helped you up and ran to hide behind Hagrid's hut, you and Fred were hot on his tails.

As Filch knocked on Hagrid's door, the half-giant opened it sleepily, "Oh, Argus. What do you want?"

"I hear students around your hut, you're not hiding them, are you, Hagrid?" Mr. Filch said and you three heard the change of tone in Hagrid's voice, "... Why don't you come in first, Argus? Have some tea."

You knew that was a sign to run once Filch had entered the hut. You made a mental note to yourself to thank Hagrid the next day for helping you three escape. As soon as the old squish entered Hagrid’s hut, George took a hold of your hand suddenly and ran to the castle’s direction. 

Was his hand always this big?

As soon as you three arrived to the hallways, you wheezed for air. Bloody Fred and George were nearly nowhere from huffing their breaths heavily, clearly their athletic bodies could handle a little run. But you, being a tad shorter than them and obviously not athletic, it was killing you. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You alright there?” George said, chuckling as he watched you wheezed an answer, “A minute...”

“Alright, you monkeys. Let’s go back to the common room now.” Fred hollered, clearly had already recovered and was walking, leaving George and you behind. George watched you take a deep breath and exhale, “Okay, I’m fine now.”

George was obviously entertained by your little show a few seconds ago, and you rolled your eyes with a lazy smile in your lips, “Amused now, are we?” You slurred boringly, earning a toothy grin from George, “With you, Y/N, always.”

You shoved him off, “Shut up, Weasley.” in hopes that could conceal the sudden heat rising up to your face. You two began to walk in silence, while watching Fred walking alone at the front. It was a comfortable silence, and the aura around you two were just too homey to break out of. 

You have a habit where you would hold your friends’ pinkie while you walk, and your entire friend group knows that. You couldn’t say why, maybe it brings you comfort that someone was beside you. So there you were, walking slowly to the common room while holding George’s pinkie.

When you three arrived to the common room, you felt your hand lost its warmth that George provided a few seconds ago as he pulled away...What the bloody hell?

“See you tomorrow, Meredith.” Fred called out while walking to the boy’s bedroom followed by George, you smiled and bidded your goodbye, “Goodnight, boys.”

Next morning came and you groaned in annoyance. After getting dressed, you walked down to the great hall for breakfast. You sat across the already-finishing-half-of-their-plates twins. “Merlin, Y/N, did you not sleep last night?” Fred laughed at you as soon as he saw the eye-bags beneath your eyes. 

“I can’t bloody sleep, you wanker. Dunno why, though.” You gruntled and began to eat your cereal. Ohoho, but you knew exactly why.

All night you were thinking of George Weasley. Since when did everything he do seem so attractive to you? Like that night when he was laying on the grass with one of his arm supporting his head while his other arm on his torso, how the hell did he pull that look off? Why did he look so good doing it? Or the time when he held your hand to run from Filch, and you remembered how visible his veins were, and how warm his hand was... what the fuck? Bloody hell, you were almost certain you’re going crazy.

And then you remembered how he let you hold his pinkie while walking last night. Suddenly your chest felt fuzzes and buzzes, and you heard your heartbeat clearly, whoa am I okay? 

The said boy waved his hand to you, snapping you out from dead-staring at your cereal, “You alright?” George asked, eyebrows slightly furrowing at you in concern. You blinked at him and coughed a bit, “Y-yeah, just remembered something.”

“Blimey, Y/N, your face is bloody red! Should we send you to the hospital wing?” Fred widened his eyes at you, munching whatever it was he was eating. You felt a hand touching your forehead, it was George’s. He stood up and reached over to touch your forehead, “I think you have a fever, Y/N.” 

You flinched from his hand as you suddenly realized something. Fuzzy chest, heart beating fast, heat up to your face whenever you think of George, can’t stop remembering how good he looked like?

Merlin’s bloody beard, you like him.

“I-I gotta go.” You said abruptly, running your eyes everywhere but George’s. “What, to the hospital wing?” “You need us to walk you there, Meredith?”

“No need! Uh, see you in Potions.” You shouted as you ran out of the Great Hall and to the bathroom.

'What the hell was that, what the bloody hell was that, oh my god-' You can't stop freaking out in your head, this feeling was foreign to you. Not that you've never liked someone before, it's just that you've been so comfortable with the twins it almost sounds completely and maniacally absurd to suddenly like one of them.

You ended up avoiding the twins for the whole day that day, trying to process your own feelings because Merlin, if even one of them found out you like the other, it could be the end of your long years of friendship as a trio.

As you returned to the common room after an exhausting day of avoiding the Weasley Twins as if they were plagues, you sighed.

You could remember the confused and slightly hurt expressions of the two boys, they knew something was wrong with you but they just couldn't pinpoint what it was.

And after a long day being alone with your thoughts, you have come to terms with your feelings. You do like George Weasley, in a romantically way. That-that shouldn't be a problem now, should it?

"Oi, Meredith."

You flinched and turned around, the twins had just arrived to the common room. "Heyyy, boys..." You put out a nervous laughter and an awkward wave.

"What's the matter with you today? You've been avoiding us for hours." Fred scowled. One thing about Fred is that he is very clingy with his friends, not that you minded, it just shows that he cares. And while you knew George is the same as his older brother, he tend to keep it hidden inside, in order to not offend anyone.

George was beside him, looking quite hurt also but concerned as well. Their eyes were on you, and you weren't sure which pair of eyes you want to look at.

You sighed, "I'm sorry boys, I shouldn't have avoided you like that. I just need some time alone with myself, to..." You trailed off, eyes glancing at George for merely a second before looking away, "... To think."

"You could've told us. Georgie here was worried if the fever you had this morning got worse." Fred pouted, before smiling slightly at you. Your heart beats significantly faster at the mention of George, yet you brushed it off.

Nothing will change this friendship. Not even this feeling.

"Awh, aren't you boys adorable." You cooed and laughed before settling down, "I'm fine though, the 'fever' I had is already gone, so no worries."

George smiled at you, "Well, glad that you're fine, but you could've told us earlier!"

"We were worried!"

"Sick!"

"And here I thought we did something wrong!"

"Well we're bloody done for if that's the case."

"Totally."

You laughed loudly, these were the times where the Weasleys would finish each other sentences, clearly shows how aligned their minds work together. And sometimes they didn't even notice.

While you were laughing, the Golden Trio came in. "Hey, everyone." Harry greeted, looking at you as your laugh took his attention. "What's Y/N laughing at?" Ron, the twins' younger brother, asked with amusement.

George shrugged with a smile, "Who knows."

"Y/N laughs at everything." Fred continued.

"Just your brothers being clowns as always." You mused, finally calming down. Ron snorted loudly, "As if they've stopped being clowns for even a second."

Everybody laughed, Fred even pulled Ron into a headlock and messed with his hair, "Ickle Ronniekins is starting to be funny, eh?"

The next few days came like a blur.

You and the twins reconciled as if you've never had any misunderstandings before. You were back becoming the three infamous Hogwarts prankster trio. Just this week, you three had received 4 detentions, 2 by Snape for simply talking in his class (typical), and 2 by Professor McGonagall for sneaking a Puking Pastille into one of a Slytherin's drink during lunch.

Poor guy had to have a bucket around him for a few hours.

Fortunately, the detention was held at the Astronomy Tower, Professor McGonagall had informed that the tower needed some cleaning to do due to some owls inhabiting there for a while. While Fred was brought down to the tower stairs, George and you were instructed to clean the top floor.

"Did you see his bloody face? Boy was as pale as a paper!" You cackled in joy, moping the floor while talking to George. George joined your laughter, adding something too, "If it weren't for the bucket he's holding, pretty sure Snape would've written something on his face."

Your laughter doubled, somehow it echoed through the whole tower and you heard Fred downstairs whining, "You two lots aren't having fun without me, are you?"

"Us?" You looked downstairs, Fred was looking up looking dissatisfied that he's not up there. "Never." You and George said in unison, yet the tone in your voices obviously stated otherwise.

You quietly laughed at Fred's face, he's clearly annoyed now. "Pretty sure he's gonna sulk later on." You muttered to George, who nodded in confirmation, "Yeah, reckon would take a while to talk him out of it, eh?"

You chuckled, "Just give him some fireworks and he'll be fine." George chuckled and shook his head, looking at his older brother lazily sweeping the stairs.

As you two continued to clean, suddenly the sky turned orange. Not orange specifically, more like the combination of blue, purple, pink and orange.

Ah, the sun is setting.

You were frozen on your feet, somehow the Astronomy Tower gave a perfect view of the sunset. The orange orb slowly going underneath Black Lake, and the water just reflected all of the giant star' light. It looked so ethereal, you simply forgot how to breathe.

You went and sit at the edge of the tower, your legs dangling at the dangerously high height. Yet you feel no fear, only warmth filled your heart. "It looks amazing, George." You breathed out, your smile was as wide as a door.

George came and sit beside you, only a few inches and his fingers would caress yours. "It looks really beautiful." He sighed, enjoying the warm sunlight that kissed his skin. You turned your head to him, watching George close his eyes and just enjoying the warmth of the sun, with a soft smile on his lips.

His skin, kissed by the sun, gives off a soft golden colour, and his red hair shine gently with it. His eyelashes somehow sparkled and the whole view just took your breath away.

Not the sunset, no. George.

When he opened his eyes and looked at you, as if you were in a trance, you couldn't pull away.

"Has anyone ever told you, that you're beautiful, George?" You breathed out, regardless of how breathless you feel under his stare.

"People had called me handsome and dashing before. But beautiful?" He slowly smiled, "... Not yet."

You blinked and looked away, nervously laughing. "W-well, you are. And so is Fred, and so am I." You covered up, your eyes watching the sun that is now getting smaller by time.

"Everyone knows you're beautiful, Y/N."

You snickered, "What was that supposed to mean, Weasley?" You teased, yet the heartbeat in your chest started to pick up its pace.

"Anything that you want it to be, sweetheart."

Your heart, as it seems, had plummeted to the center of the Earth. The heat in your face seems to double up, reckon that it's not the sunlight.

"Aren't you a bloody flirt." You shoved him to the side, chuckling. He joined as well.

As you looked at the sunset, suddenly there is this bravery inside of you. "Hey." You called. George looked at you, urging you to continue.

"I have someone that I like."

George's big eyes was so mistake that he was surprised. Y/N, the kid who has been growing up with them since babies, is liking someone?

"Who's the unlucky lad?" George asked excitedly. You rolled your eyes in playfulness. While your heart screamed, "IT'S YOU, YOU MONKEY!", you simply said, "None of your business, Weasley."

George scoffed, "Then why bother telling me." He said in a fake-hurt tone, and you chuckled. "Because it's not a big deal. I just... want to let things out."

"Well, let it out then."

You smiled, realizing George was looking at you, yet you kept your eyes to the slowly dissipating sun. "I wonder what it's like to be the one he loves."

"Ah, it's a he." He teased. You laughed and swatted him playfully, "Let me talk, woman."

"I wonder how he would be with his lover. Would he bring them to late night dates at Hogsmeade? Would he sneak into their dorm just wanting to cuddle?" You softly smiled, your heartbeat was increasing per second.

This is like an involuntary confession.

"Would he bring them home during Christmas to spend time with his family? Or would he give them gifts, no matter how many times they say it's okay. Would he... give his affection in public? Or in private because he's a tad shy?"

The surroundings turned quiet, and the orange sky had turned purple, the sun was no longer present, instead the little stars started to come out and play.

Suddenly the emotions came swarming at you, making you choked up. Tears were threatening to fall from the bridge of your eyes to you cheeks, and you cursed under your breath. "W-would he... give a chance to me? And let me see by myself if my wonderings are correct?"

You looked at him, George who was dumbfounded and looking stunned, and you smiled with teary-eyes, "I wonder."

PART 2: READ

(You can go to my masterlist to read other fics! Masterlist is in my bio :D)

[spiltscribbles]

this night seems so long!

~Notes: I’m reposting this and i’m still not happy with it :S rip XS

SEND ME A PROMPT  |  A REBLOG MEANS THE WORLD!

.-

It is pleasant, indeed, while the summer lasts

with the mild pheasants' song ...

but now I feel the northern wind's blast—

its severe weather strong. 

Alas! Alas! This night seems so long!

And I, because of my momentous wrong

now grieve, mourn and fast.

TS Eliot

.-

The late summer chill seeps through the creeping windows into the flat that they once called home— the feebly standing, slowly disintegrating haven that was painted with laughter before lies, with hopeful kisses before hesitant touches. The cold burrows itself into Sirius’s bones and coats his every thought and  nests deep inside of him until he’s more frost than man.

But then he sees Remus— beautiful and golden and perfect Remus— padding out their bedroom clad in Sirius’s oversized jumper that swallows his hands whole, and that familiarly gentle smile that makes his eyes glitter  once his soft gaze rests on Sirius, and his sleep supple  skin tastes like the things too beautiful to name. He tastes like Remus— like sunlight and parchment and whispered laughter and raspy groans and that’s all Sirius ever wants, has ever wanted.

“It’s September first.” He says once Sirius finally unlatches from his neck, red faced and pleased, and Sirius swears that Ganymede has nothing on him. That if he could he’d restructure every celestial star from above to follow the precise slope of his nose, and the pedal soft curve of his cheek, and the path of his jawline to temple. For everyone to worship him in ways he’s always deserved.

“We’ve made it another month,” Sirius retorts, mixes the splash of milk with the sugar in Remus’s Earl Gray, which is a travesty and a point of teasing throughout their whole relationship since they were nothing but lads. Sirius blames Remus’s beverage faux pas— including his preferential nature to black coffee—to being raised by a Frenchman for a mother, and Remus always counters that if Sirius was any more bloody English he’d be afraid that Queen Elizabeth would poach him for her next husband. Which of course always ended the argument because then Lily would laugh from besides him, and Sirius would glare along with James— both hating it when Remus and Lily’s Muggle references go over their heads like a second language they couldn’t speak.

But Lily’s not here, and neither is James. They’re tucked away in another safe house— the fourth in a calendar year, and they’re both going a bit mad if the letter Lily sent him only a few weeks ago is anything to go by. And Sirius aches for the both of them, aches for baby Harry— his one year old God son who he loves like nothing else. And how could he not? He’s Lily’s bright eyes set into James’s open face, has James’s warm, brown complexion but inherited Lily’s freckles too. He’s Sirius’s God son, and there’s a mad man after him, and sometimes it feels like Sirius’s brain is a mushy, muddled stew melting out of his scalp when he’s forced to contemplate on it for too long— to contemplate on how little Harry seems incapable of escaping the danger— because it goes back to the same name over and over again. The name of someone Sirius refuses to ever let himself contemplate for longer than a breath.

“Aye,” Remus says in that lilting, Welsh bread accent of his before he takes a slow sip and Sirius is left to study the sweep of his long lashes against his fine bones and how less than a fortnight ago that face Sirius adores so endlessly  came home caked in mud and blood that was only partially  Remus’s own and Sirius wasn’t allowed to ask what happened while he cleaned the cuts and kissed the healed pink skin with gentle reverence. “Maybe 82 will be our year Paddy.” Remus says with such raw yearning that it blows the wind out of Sirius like he’s  just taken a bludger to the gut. And he feels so stupid and thankful all at once. Because of course those idl contemplations are nothing but ridiculous fodder. Of course Remus would never— could never.

“Yeah moony,” he says quietly. “Maybe it will.”

Sirius steps forwards, and he kisses him and Remus breathes out like he’s been holding it for a long while, and then his fingers slide into Sirius’s overgrown hair and tugs,  and they’re lost in one another for the rest of the morning.

.-

Three days later Remus leaves again under demands that he won’t ever disclose to Sirius— penance for the trust Sirius broke as a schoolboy with a prank that proved near deadly— and a week after that the Order gets news that the Prewettss were compromised, that it took five of those Death Eater bastards to finish them off, and that their older sister with seven kids of her own can’t bare to hold a public wake.

The cold gets worse, and Sirius doesn’t know where to step to avoid another avalanche; is afraid that with every move he takes, a landmine is waiting to blast.

.-

The bare branches of the elderly tree outside their flat knocks against the partition that once bathed them  in spilt sunlight and stolen serenity and careful comfort. It scrapes against the glass like the fingers of an inferi, accentuated by the sound of the whistling wind, crooning like the menacing melody by a milky eyed, haggard looking banshee. And everything is unmoving, everything is still— petrified for a moment in frozen history.

And Sirius feels his insides collapse when he remembers that he’ll never hear Gideon’s laughter or see Fabian sat next to Benjy again. It’s a generation lost, Sirius thinks morbidly, the way he always gets when Remus isn’t home and he’s tossing back shots of Fire-Whiskey like it’s what keeps his veins pumping life. A generation  of them that’s being killed off one by one, a generation of Hogwarts graduates being obliterated and there’s not an end in sight and Sirius wants to scream. He wants to fight them with his bare hands. He wants to ravage each of their hideouts and use them as target practice for his unforgivables and he wants to run, God he wants to run. He wants James and Lily and Harry to come with him, wants to steel Remus in the middle of the night before he knows what’s even happening. He wants to escape it all and hold onto his family with a iron grip that can only be severed through death.

Sirius wants it so much that it begins to ache, to twist in his stomach and weep within the hollows of his bones.

But then the branches knock against the window once more, and he’s brought back to a reality the makes even idyllic daydreams like that something treacherous and awful. So he pours himself another finger and raises the glass to fallen friends and pretends that the throbbing in his heart is something that can be spelled away if he only works hard enough.

.-

Remus comes home a week later and Sirius feigns that the sight of his lover doesn’t make Sirius picture Marlene’s twisted face of agony and Dorcas’s limp body at the feet of this dark wizard that has destroyed everything Sirius has ever known and tainted everything he has ever loved.

.-

The safe house is sparsely decorated, save for the candle Lily’s always got burning and the succulent she keeps on a shelf besides a small portrait of Harry, tucked between one of her and James on their wedding day, and another of the five of them at their Hogwarts graduation. 

It’s no home, especially not one for a baby that’s as curious and boisterous as little Harry. It’s a prison at best. still packed boxes strewn about the ground, and  a tension permeating the air and it’s awful. But Sirius manages to forget about it when he glances to his right and sees a giggling Harry bouncing happily on Remus’s lap, and Remus is glowing in a way Sirius hasn’t seen for edging on a year. The stiffness threaded through his shoulders has dissipated and his smile is wide and he’s dotingly kissing Harry’s chocolate splattered cheek while James and Lily roll their eyes fondly from across the breakfast spread. And Sirius thinks that if this is all he sees for the rest of his life he would thank every God and every spirit above.

“Uncle Moony, you better be convincing Harry that if he doesn’t eat his berries that the boogie man will come and munch on his toes tonight,” Lily scolds half heartedly, which makes James drop a kiss to the crown of her head before topping off her tea.

“No toes, mommy! No toes!” Harry babbles in that in-between state of gargling and speech that is as precious as it is incomprehensible.

“Saucy boy,” Sirius chuckles, tousling Harry’s already hopelessly disheveled hair and kissing the corner of Remus’s lips that taste like hazelnut and blueberries and a bit like sunlight too. And he thinks that this is what happiness feels like— He’s nearly forgot.

“I’ll get’m washed up, shall I?” Remus says as he rises swiftly from his seat, Harry clapping excitedly. 

“Good man,” James winks and Lily blows him a kiss. Remus looks down at Sirius, a brow cocked slightly.

“I’ll be up in a minute, yeah? Just wanted to help these plonkers with the dishes.”

Remus grins brightly and nods, and then, he stilts— like in hesitation— before kissing Sirius’s temple, promptly shuffling off and humming Harry an old French lullaby that he knows Hope once sang him when he was a boy.

And Sirius’s heart feels so full, so fragile, And Sirius hates that he didn’t tell him I love you, is afraid that the space of time that they’ll get to say that to one another is rapidly dwindling.

“We’re finishing up all the kinks in the plan,” James says, saddling up besides  Sirius, handing him a sponge and keeping the dishcloth in his own. “You still want to act as secret keeper?”

“Course you daft wanker,” Sirius bristles. “I’d do anything for you lot.”

“I know,” James says unflinchingly.  “You and Moony are the best friends a bloke can ask for.”

And God that hurts like nothing else, so Sirius doesn’t even try to retort in any meaningful sort of way.  “Don’t forget Wormyy.”

James laughs. “Would never dare.”

And then silence drops over them like a heavy quilt threatening to smother them to death. And Sirius scrapes off the grime from the dishes and pretends that the plate isn’t still scratched and battered even once the debris is gone. And he swallows down the lump in his throat when he remembers that Remus is leaving again in a matter of hours.

.-

Remus is still curved around Sirius like a blessing stroked to life  with heavenly colors the morning after he gets back. Sirius wraps his arms around him, squeezes tightly and berries his head into his neck, wanting to feel him, to smell him all over. And as they lie down in that heap in the bed Sirius has always called theirs, but Remus has only ever referred to as Sirius’s, he sobs.

“Don’t go Remus, don’t leave me anymore. Just stay here, stay with me. I love you so much that I’m afraid I’ll crack with it and I know you don’t— that you can’t feel the exact same way— but please, just don’t leave us. Stay here, stay and love me too.”

Remus’s even breaths never falter, and he never flutters his eyes open, but Sirius has known him for nearly half his life, and he knows it like he knows his own name that Remus is awake and simply doesn’t answer him. 

What Sirius doesn’t know is what that means.

.-

They’re sitting on either end of the couch now. 

Sirius is pretending to fill out a crossword but is actually trying to decode a letter they had been able to intercept between McNair and a lower ranking Death Eater about some assignation that was meant to be held in the wee hours of October seventh. But every few minutes his eyes wander to Remus, to how he’s curled up with a book of poetry in one hand and his blanket swathed around him. His fringe is hanging in limp curls and the circles beneath his eyes are only that much more prominent, that much more sickly. And his gaze is large and fragile in a way Sirius has never seen. And he wants to slide the novel out of Remus’s hands and he wants to kiss away his frown, and he wants to lock his fingers through the holes in his green sweater and he wants Remus in every way imaginable, to tell him I love you and I love you and I love you so much its like I’m dying. He wants to kiss the inside of his elbow and the knot of his ankle and beneath his naval too. He wants him and knows that he’ll never stop wanting him, and is sure that this— this love— will prove his Achilles’ Heal, and Remus is Patroclus destined to leave him  first and Sirius is destined to wallow in ruin.

Sirius wants to beg him to stay here, to stay with him, to love him like he knows he does.

But Sirius simply does not— Does not tell him any of that.

They haven’t spoken to one another with words for days now, and it feels pathetic and hopeless— the way they only regard one another with stiff lips and cautious glances in the daylight, but that doesn’t stop them still clutching for one another once the sun dips into the  horizon. Like if they can convince themselves that the sex is still miraculous that they still love each other too. As if their bodies aren’t just vessels, aren’t just sacks of skin and bone. And it feels like they’re both giving up on one another and holding on to each other with equal fervency. And Sirius doesn’t know anything any more.

It’s pathetic and it’s painful and it’s pointless. It’s so obviously over, it’s been over for nearly half a year, but they’ve always been cowards when it came to one another. And Sirius doesn’t think that will ever change.

So he only settles deeper into the couch, and he keeps the Shakespeare in Remus’s grasp, and he moves his free hand to deftly clutch around one of Remus’s cold feet, and he squeezes and Remus freezes, and they both breathe for the first time in far too long. But then Remus pulls away, and Sirius lets go before he can feel the sting of rejection and they go back to pretending to go on.

.-

Remus is gone the next morning for a council with Dumbledore, so Sirius wanders the flat like a ghost with no direction, no idea what’s next.

He decides to tidy up the space, like it matters, like anything is normal. And when he reaches for the empty mug on Remus’s nightstand, he sees that his book of poetry is still open, and he lifts it to glance at the sonnet written their in black and white…

When my love swears that she is made of truth

I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor’d youth,

Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.

And Sirius throws it hard against the wall before he can read another word.

.-

Remus is preparing for another mission for reconnaissance, tells Sirius that night over their curry take away. And it feels like the world is dissolving right in front of Sirius’s eyes, like his lungs have forgotten how to breathe during those interludes where Remus leaves without a trace— only starting up again when he returns smelling of blood and fear and the outdoors. And Sirius hates everything so much— Is afraid that he hates Remus most of all some days, even if he’s the one person he can’t fathom existing without. 

.-

The sky breaks open that night and rain pellets down like the bullets from the Muggle films that Remus loved showing him, before the war, and before his disappearing act, and before it felt like a knife was plunged into Sirius’s chest every time he looked at him— and the only worst thing than this would  be if he stopped seeing Remus all together, because he knows it like the innate way he knew how to move his lips against Remus’s on that feted day towards the start of seventh year— that the knife would simply be pulled out and he’d bleed to death bit by bit. 

It hurts like nothing else loving him, but Sirius can’t fathom a world where he does not. Where he doesn’t get to trace the consolation of freckles dusting his high cheekbones, where he doesn’t get to kiss the singular mole at the nape of his neck that’s ordinarily covered up by his thick jumpers. A world where they don’t intwine in the ways that lovers are want to do.

Sirius loves Remus even if he knows it’s fruitless because there’s a war destroying the world and there’s a spy in the order and Remus is the only one who’s brilliant in a reserved way  and cunning when he wants to be and the only one who knows how to properly keep a secret from his friends like it’s a second skin that he wears as effortlessly as a cloak.

And God.

Remus is sitting besides him now, a pinky’s breath away from his perch on the sofa.

There are words that writhe in Sirius’s throat, clacking against his teeth, begging to spill out. He wants to tell Remus he loves him, that he’d forgive him anything. He wants to tell him that Remus can Avada Kedavra him in the cold morning light and Sirius would still only see him bathed in an etherial  glow, but can’t see him doing that to their dearest friends, to Harry who is sacred and should always be protected. He wants to beg him to just speak, to tell Sirius the truth, to tell Sirius he still loves him. Beg Remus to run away with him. To go off to Prague or Cordova or maybe even the states, to say sod it to the whole damn war and just spend their days and nights tangled up with naked limbs and sweaty sheets.

And he thinks he will, thinks that the burning sensation of want within him is too furious to tempt down anymore.

But then the dying sun shimmers through the window, unspools in Remus’s honey curls and twinkles in his butterscotch eyes that were once always dancing with a quiet humor that enthralled Sirius to him like a drifter to a prophet. And it’s not healthy, this vigil he’s always held for him— especially now, especially with his suspicions that James begrudgingly agrees with and Lily fumingly does not— but Sirius’s never been one for self preservation, has never known how to let a scab heal over naturally. He has to poke and prod until it scars, until it becomes a indelible part of him. 

They stay there like that for either a minute or hour more, and when Sirius sees that Remus finally has enough of their staring match, he begins to move away, and it is Sirius— with a quick hand and desperate need— who presses him back down to the cushions with a hot mouth and wandering palms and he pretends that all he feels at the sound of the whimper Remus lets out is pleasure and not pain from his heart chipping that much more.

And this is vacant of words too. This is just instincts and moans and intuition of knowing another’s body and pleasure points and wants  for half a decade now.

They make it to the bedroom and Sirius refuses to be gentle, refuses to deprive himself of anything, and Remus is matching him with every thrust.

When they kiss its wet, and Sirius knows its the tears leaking out their eyes, and he knows in that unspoken, understanding way that this is the final time. That when Remus leaves later tonight, he’ll stay gone, that he won’t ever sleep besides Sirius again, won’t ever hold him like this. Sirius will never get to see him in the splendid, golden hours of morning and never get to run away with him after all. So Sirius blunders Remus’s mouth with his hard tongue, and he relishes the way Remus bites on his bottom lip until he tastes blood. And he throws them onto the mattress and they wrestle together in the sheets, scratching and pulling and canting obscenely. And when Sirius kisses his protruding collar bone it’s I’m saying I love you, and when Remus sucks on the hinge of Sirius’s jaw it feels like an apology. And when Sirius squeezes the scar on his inner thigh where the very first bite mark lies mangled and knotted in his skin, he’s begging him one last time to stay, and when Remus tells him in a voice that’s tenuous and tender and filled with sorrow, “Fuck me” the syllables slot together in a different formation that sound like “I’m already gone.”

They’re having parallel conversations and they’re not speaking and it’s the end.

So Sirius bucks against him and Remus wraps his long, long legs around Sirius’s narrow waste, and Sirius codes his fingers with the lube they’ve always kept in his nightstand and is fast when he plunges them into that ring of tight, tight muscle, when he stretches and scissors  and slicks him open, spurred on  by Remus’s gargled words begging him. “Now Sirius, now, now. Do it now.”

So he doesn’t bother with any of the rest of it. He barely sheaths himself half way before he has to stop, has to catch his breath, to re acclimate himself to the pressure. But then he hears Remus whimper and he surges forwards and doesn’t let up this vicious rhythm that he hears pulsing in his fucking ears. And it’s graceless and it’s hard and it’s a bit rushed but it’s what they need. And when Remus tosses back his head— features twisted up with emotion— Sirius berries his face into his neck and he feels his tears intermingling with Remus’s own and Remus’s loud pleads for him to go rougher, to stay longer, to keep fucking into him. So Sirius listens because there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Remus— even now— and he focusses on his hand circling Remus’s length, on pumping it with a tight fist and a bit of a twist, the way Remus has always preferred it. And he hears Remus croaking out an “I’ve always loved you,” and even if those words are too late, too little, too hollow, they still work to bring him off the edge, and Sirius thrusts deeper only twice more before he’s releasing himself into him— into the love of his life— quickly followed by Remus’s own cock whimpering out it’s own climax. And it feels like the ending to the story Sirius never wanted to stop being told.

But before he can pull out his overstimulated prick from Remus’s arse, Remus just squeezes him with his legs,  eyes fluttering shut while he rests his arms around Sirius’s broad shoulders. “Just stay.” he asks. “Stay until I have to go.”

And the sound of him— so desperate so pliant so tired— breaks the rest of his heart so much so that Sirius feels the remains splintering in his lungs and shattering open his ribcage with a sob he never lets out until Remus is gone.

“Anything you want Moony. Whatever you ask.”

And Remus’s lips twitch up into the best approximation of a smile that he’s given Sirius in far too long, and Sirius rests his head against Remus’s chest, and kisses the freckles that he was so elated to find their the first time they had done this. And he takes in deep the scent of  cinnamon and citrus and sunlight that’s always clung to his skin, and he thinks that this is the first time they’re letting each other feel hopeless together.

.-

The cold has turned over to a blizzard, and it seizes the flat once more the next morning.

Remus is gone and Sirius is left alone and nothing is right.

So he grabs the floo powder from the beautiful, ceramic container Hope had gifted Remus when he first moved into the flat the summer after their seventh year, and he finds James waiting for him on the other side, and he’s never taken in just how exhausted and terrified and sad his brother is looking these days.

“Wotcher, Pads.” James says, sipping on his tea with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and nothing is alright, nothing will probably ever be alright again.

“Hiya, Prongsie,” Sirius says, hearing just how threadbare his voice sounds in the quiet of the Potter cottage.

“So just a morning call? Or would you like me to fetch Haz for you?”

Sirius swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to speak.  “James I love you more than life, love Lily and the sprog just as much— But—“ he chokes up right then before ramming forwards. “I can’t— I can’t be the—“

“I know,” James interrupts, a thin, forgiving smile on his face. “Pete’ll have to do, but I’d still rather it you.”

“I’m so sorry James.”

“Me too.”

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

[strawbabysimp]

Adult Trio as Yanderes HCs

Chrollo

He's so lonely traveling around for jobs, it's an unstable life and he doesn't have any real motivation for doing what he does. But you? You were so interesting. He made obtaining you a sort of game, except this was a far more exhilarating game than he'd ever played before. It was a new sort of mission that required a different way of going about things and that sparked something in him. Something he had been missing and craving this entire time unknowingly.

You quickly became friends with the new charming man in town, he asked you out a few times and it was all going well. He brought you flowers and candies, showering you in expensive gifts that you didn't have to even do anything special to receive. You said he didn't have to do these things but he made it clear he was glad to do it.

It's a very gradual progression as he gets more and more possessive. He'll want you to wear everything he's given you, especially when you go out in public. The way he turns your head to meet his gaze even when you two aren't talking, as if your attention had to be directed at him for fear that your outside surroundings would somehow taint you.

When you bring up cutting your hair differently or trying a new look he's quick to panic, telling you in a breathy voice that that was a horrible idea and you were perfect just as you are. He wants to keep you the same as you've always been since he first met you, only allowing you to change to his wishes, never your own.

"You belong to me just as you are. Nothing will change that. I won't allow it to." His gaze is gentle but his words held an unspoken threat that both of you were very aware of. You were his rock. The only constant in his life and after gaining such a thing he would destroy anything that could possibly take that away.

You come along with him for all his jobs, no point fighting someone when there was no chance of getting away. You had to admit the life was somewhat entrancing; traveling around with a man quick to give you anything you so desired, only having eyes for you, a precious gift. He's never cruel, always so tentative, the darkness only fills his aura when directed at others for you could never do wrong in his eyes. The world was what was corrupt and ever-changing. He was a clear example of that.

Hisoka

Hisoka is the king of manipulation and while some part of you respected his skill, when it's directed at you it's an entirely different story. When it happens it just seems like jokes, small things he says that plant these cruel ideas in your mind, and they just keep building up. When you bring up his comments he laughs you off, saying if you are overthinking things perhaps there is a good reason for it. That was the start of it all.

Your idea of your friends was tainted, the way they smiled at you became a reminder of the horrible things Hisoka said a smile could hide. Your own family made you doubt your worth, thinking you'd never reach their standards. When you walked with Hisoka those harsh thoughts remained in your head but the presence of the magician made you happy, the way he had said you were perfect for him and that he didn't have expectations for you. He simply wanted you and everything you were willing to give. Only he didn't tell you he would have you give everything you had to offer and make it seem as if it was all your own choice.

You went on about your insecurities, voicing the fact that the world could be such a confusing and unfair place. It made him angry. The card would slip from his fingertips, blood rushing to the surface of your skin as the sharpened edge brought about a twinge of pain. Your eyes widen but a guilt fills your stomach. Hisoka had said you were perfect so why did he hurt you? He remains quiet as he walks towards you but his calm demeanor does nothing to calm your nerves. He explains in the sweetest voice a blood-thirsty man could provide - which was the equivalent of honey in vocal form for this gifted performer - that he was not mad at you but your words. To stop putting yourself down and instead direct your hate at the world. Your mind quickly twists things, Hisoka seeming to have had a sweet reaction. He wasn't mad at you. He loved you. He just wanted you to be happy and the fact you weren't stirred something in him. He cared and the world didn't.

He shows you off to the crowds like you're some divine thing. Something to be proud of. You're happy and he gives you a tender smile whenever he finds you in the stands of the arena. He'll dedicate the following bloodshed to you and call out in your direction his words of dedication. It was violent yet loving, a perfect description of the man who you cared for.

The death didn't stop at the stage, however. You'd find him coming home with clothes stained red from a person he never tells you the name of, going on about how he loves you so much sometimes he just can't help but express it. How he makes the last words those people mutter be your name as blood spills from their lips. You grimace. This isn't what you wanted. But what can you do? He loves you.

He lets you go out on your own, knowing you'll always come back. If you don't? That's not even a possibility at this point. Everything you are is his. You placed the very value of your existence in this beautiful man and he eats it up greedily. Without you, he'd starve. You didn't want to be cruel after he helped you accept the world as it is and yourself. The killing never stops but you do learn to accept it. Eventually, a smile finds its way onto your face as he drags a bloody finger across your cheek, leaving a red streak he kisses gently before dragging you to the shower to wash up with him. If the world is already cruel then isn't he just a byproduct? An adapter? Simply someone who has learned to love in a place where even love can't remain untarnished?

Illumi

You're getting kidnapped right off the bat. This man takes you the second he finds any sort of special interest in you as a person. He has this urge to protect you, the same as his own blood, that's not something he can just ignore. He won't be like his father. He won't allow you to rebel against his wishes or run off with another. He'll keep you to himself until you yearn for nothing more. Your cries fall on deaf ears as he looks on at you emotionlessly. This is for the best.

You'll be walking one day, there won't be many people around or none at all, and then he'll just appear. You hadn't met him before, he had wanted to study you to see if the two of you were compatible before he actually moved forward with his plans. One moment he's standing before you and the next you're out cold, a needle placed perfectly in your neck causing you to fall limp in his hold. He cradles you gently against him as he quickly makes his way to a secure home for the two of you. He wouldn't allow his family to have a taste of you. He didn't need their help. They always failed it seemed and he wouldn't have you suffer the same fate.

You wake up in a home straight out of your wildest dreams. You think you're still asleep as you first take in your surroundings. It's simply perfect. Your dream room. Your feet find the floor and as you put yourself upright a voice calls out to you asking if this setup pleases you or if you'd like something different. You're stunned and the ground beneath your feet suddenly feels all too real. The long-haired man comes to face you, his speed inhuman as he soon stands before you. You're scared and you're confused but the night before comes back to you and the explanation is clear. This man had taken you and it doesn't seem as if it had been the first time he laid eyes on you.

As time goes by he stays at your side, quietly observing you as you go about your day in the confines of the home. You'll walk to one room only to turn around and find him relaxed in a different spot only a few feet away. You were never out of his sight. You began to become curious about his intentions, why he was acting so nice - albeit a bit creepy - after taking you away like this. "My parents attempted to make the perfect family through what most would deem as cruelty. It didn't work out in their favor. I thought I had turned out quite nicely but they did not think the same. The closest thing to perfection for them is my brother but even he is not right yet. They treated him far... kinder than me you could say. Perhaps if I treat you even better you will be good for me."

With no way to escape, having witnessed this man's own abilities the first day of your "stay," you adapted to the situation. Becoming docile yet not overly submissive. You were still you and it seemed he was content with your occasional minor defiance and own personal wants or needs. It seemed he only wanted your presence and something about that was far easier to accept. He doesn't force you to do anything but rather encourages your interests and even becomes curious about them himself. While he wasn't much one to talk in the beginning he became more comfortable in your presence. You both had to adjust to the other despite him being the one in control of the situation.

Being with him is a reassuring thing, the little gleam in his eyes as you show him something new or express your gratitude over something he does/brings you has your heart beating loudly in your chest. You had begun to care for him. You missed the world and the new adventures and life you used to live but there was no fighting to be done. You knew what the result would be. In the back of your mind you knew this was wrong and an inhumane thing to do to another person but he seemed so tender with you. You watched him grow into himself and what's wrong with making the best out of a bad situation?

[angst-fairygodmother]

Girl Talk (The Song of Sway Lake Fic)

A/N: The moment has finally arrived! The first official collab/crossover between myself and @miss-kittys-magical-library​! I’m really excited for how this came out, and how much fun we had writing it together. 😊 Word Count: 3127 Rating: T - mild language, brief mention of blood, discussion of violence

~The Papermill bookstore, Sway Lake~

Selina burst through the door of the bookstore.  She almost doesn't wait for Jess to say hello or ask questions.  Selina is overcome with adrenaline, the exhilaration of what she did. A giant smile spread across her lips.  There's almost a dreamy look in her eyes.  

She's covered in blood: her hands, her jeans, the bottom of her shirt.  Selina held her hands like a surgeon so she didn't touch anything.  

Jess’s mouth hung open while she pointed nervously towards the upstairs.  Her friend knew where to find what she needed.

Selina comes out of the hot shower knowing Jess will be in the room waiting.  She found clean clothes but stopped to study herself in the mirror.  Somehow she felt like her body had changed somehow.  

Selina caught a picture of her and Jess and held it up.  How far they've come from the girls in the photo on her best friend’s dresser.

She glimpsed Jess in the mirror, a strange smirk on her face.  Selina knew something was up.  She handed the picture to her friend and spoke,

“Can you believe this was us?”

------

There had been a time in life where Selina and Jess had told each other everything, no matter what. And yet somehow this summer, one of the most eventful in recent history, Jess hadn’t told her best friend anything. Anyone who had spent any time on the lake knew about tensions between the Sways and...basically everyone, but especially Selina’s mother and her relatives. And more than that, it had been kind of nice to have a good secret all to herself for a little while. But she missed her friend, and would have loved her advice on what to do about the boy who was quickly becoming someone important, and a problem for her heart. 

She was just thinking about the other girl, wondering if she should call her after work, maybe suggest a bonfire or late night rowboat race like they used to have, when Selina burst through the door. Jess’s eyes fell to the blood first, and then rose quickly to Selina’s face and the expression that didn’t match the apparent situation at all. 

A thousand questions raced through her mind as she pointed her best friend toward her bathroom (not that Selina didn’t know where it was by now) and made quick work of closing the shop. She didn’t seem hurt, so everything else could wait. While Selina washed herself clean, Jess dug for any clothes left behind the last time she had come for a visit, and failing that, any old shorts and t-shirt. She left them on top of the dresser and poked her head into the bathroom to gather the discarded bloody garments and throw them into the wash. 

Selina was standing in the bedroom, studying herself in the mirror when Jess returned, and for a moment she wondered, again, if her friend was injured. 

“Can you believe this was us, what?”

Selina laughed, “These girls.  We’re just girls here trying to be grown women.  I sort of treated you like I did Sunny.” 

She waited for Jess to maybe bristle or tense up at his name. “I marched on to the beach, saw the first girl my age who had SOMETHING in common with me, and declared you mine.  We aren't little girls anymore.”  

There was a bittersweetness in her voice.  Selina didn't even care that she was naked. 

Jess laughed. She remembered that day, meeting Selina after escaping her siblings in search of a moment of peace and quiet, far from what actually found her instead. But they had got on so quickly she'd forgotten to be angry about it.  

"No, we really aren't," she agreed with a tinge of nostalgic sadness in her own voice.

She leaned back on her hands on the bed, watching her friend study the picture. "I never minded, you know. It was kind of nice to be claimed by somebody. You'll always be my first for that," she bit her lip, hoping the joke didn't come off as uncomfortable given the situation. 

Selina finally dressed and sat beside her friend on the bed.  Her knuckles caressed the other woman’s cheek before she swept the hair from her face. Without a thought, she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to Jess’s, tongue lingered a bit before she broke away.  

“That's from Sunny too.”  Selina laid on her side tucked under Jess’s arm.  “How is it that I was here for a few weeks, and youuuu have been tramping around Sway Lake with some chick?!  Have you gone FULL lesbian?” she dropped her voice low. 

Jess turned onto her side, propping a head on her arm to face Selina. 

"You two are so weird," she rolled her eyes. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that." 

Her stomach flipped at the thought of Sunny, eyes cast to the ceiling as her thoughts wandered. She loved Ollie, but there was something raw about the idea of losing the other boy, even though he wasn't really hers anymore and hadn't been in quite some time. 

She quirked a teasing eyebrow as she returned to the present moment and the woman beside her.

"If I was going to do that, do you think it would be with anyone else than you? Whoever gave you your gossip needs glasses."

Selina’s mouth dropped open, “There's a guy around here with hair that long?!”  

She linked her arm through Jess’s and pulled her in for a hug.  The other woman now wrapped up in her embrace.  Selina let her chin rest on her friend’s head as she stroked her hair.  “You feel happier.  Content.  Like you're just drifting along.  I know you loved Sunny in your own way, but this is different.  It's the,” she ran a hand up and down Jess’s body without touching it, “this.  Papa would call it your aura.” 

Jess grinned. "I am. I'm really, really happy," she answered dreamily. "Ollie's a really sweet guy. But only here for the summer…"

She swallowed down the lingering bitter taste her argument with Ollie the previous morning had left in her mouth, not wanting to burden the conversation with her fears. Especially not when she still had so many questions of her own. 

"But don't think asking about my love life is going to get you out of explaining yourself, missy." She teased.

Selina sat up, “Oliver Sway?!  Jessica!  Come on.  Any other Tom, Dick or asshole at this stupid lake.  Sunny.  Sunny’s RIGHT THERE.  Just grab him by the ankle and bring him back to Earth.  He needs you.”

She took a breath, “That.. harpie will tear you apart because you aren't good breeding.  It's Sway Lake because that's what those upper crust cunts hold over this entire town.  Sway.  Lakes dont belong to one family, they should belong to EVERY person.  Are Sunny and I the only ones NOT under this family’s curse?  First Tom, then Nikolai and now you.”  

Selina’s voice was full of disappointment more than anger.  She looked at her hands.  Her palms, white and clean, were just caked brownish red not even an hour ago.  “It can't be the both of us.”

"Nikolai?!" Jess asked, staring for a moment before doubling over in laughter. "Oh god it all makes sense now."

She struggled to contain her laughter, gasping for air and wiping away the tears in her eyes from it. 

"Fuck Charlotte Sway, I couldn't care less what she thinks," she said, sobering and then sighing. "It's not like I planned on falling in love with Ollie. But I did, and it kinda scares me. I really really don't want to lose him. And he hates her and the whole legacy bullshit as much as anyone. Let it all rot or burn or whatever."

Jess was silent for a moment. It was hard to say Selina was her only or even oldest friend. But they were best friends, for certain, and they knew everything about each other. There were even times when they were younger that Selina and Sunny had talked about soulmates and Jess had wondered if she were hers. Which is why her stomach twisted with guilt as she realized just how unsettled Selina was, and pretending not to be. 

"But enough about me, it doesn't matter. Are you okay?"

Selina took Jess’s hand in hers.  She laced their fingers together and laid down again.  This time she and her friend were side by side.  She was certain no one in any spoken language had invented a word for what the two of them were.  

Selina knew it was why Leon and Johnny always ended phone calls and visits with long hugs and I love yous.  Why Honey and Klaus showered each other with intimacy and affection Honey showed Leon.  Friendships that made people question your sexual intentions.  It was probably something in the Kostas skin, like a pheromone. 

The 23 year old pushed the thought out of her mind that everyone around them was their friend because they didn't have a choice.  Instead she squeezed Jess’s hand.  

“You know Honey, she holds grudges with a tight grip.  There's only two people she hates: Charlotte Sway and Reginald Hargreeves, and he's the one she really wants dead.  Charlie is lonely and miserable. That's punishment enough for Mama.  Papa always says she would make a great Mafia don. She DID like Tim Sway; 

cried when he killed himself.  He wasn't even Charlot-”  Selina cut herself off.  “Either way Ollie must take after him then.  I hope he does.  I think we played together when we were little?”   

She realized she was avoiding the question and wanted to deflect solely on Jess.  Sunny wasn't the only one who slept around up here, or had a weird effect.  Selina again panicked if maybe, somehow, what was in him was in her.  That the Russian on a canoe in the middle of the night would show up in the Village, screaming at her in the dead of night.  Some of the guys she fucked flopped around on top of Selina for a few minutes, got off while she stared at the ceiling.  Then they laid claim to her like any White guy who thought he owned someone else’s land.

“And don't laugh like that either!  I was doing my duty as a future nurse and helping someone who got hurt.”   

She watched Jess cross her arms, even on her back.  She was giving Selina THAT stare.  Selina threw her hands up. “Ohhh,” she whined, ”I was swimming, floating really.  Probably out further than I should be in the middle of the night, but that fucking moon.  And there he was on his way to get rid of those horrendous jet skis of Jimmy’s.  And he was flirtatious and made me groan, but also laugh?” 

Selina had pulled her knees up to her chest so she could hug them.  A far off look on her face.  “And he's very.. I didn't really pay attention to what he looked like.  WHO, right?  It was just this fire that went through me.  Like I knew him?  

“Mama always talks about the day I was born and speaking into existence this notion. That every version of her will be loved by and love Papa.  She thought it was blood loss creating insanity, but Sunny and I had designs on a love like theirs.”

“And the way Nikolai made me feel, and the way he knew my body?  We didn't even fuck; not like that.  I haven't cum that hard or much ever.  Even by myself.”

“Then he got hurt, and I made Sunny take me to him.  Ollie had saved him, right?  As we're stitching him back together, I see his face.  That face I grew up with three times over.  He's fashioned for me, Jess.  Maybe like Ollie is for you.  But Nikolai is Leon and Nicklaus and Klaus and he's made to be mine.” 

"No, no  I'm not laughing at that, or you," Jess promised. "Just...the first decent conversation Nikolai and I had, he mentioned meeting someone. Matching his description to you is what's funny. And the fact that you two are such opposites." Jess paused, smiling in fondness for both parties in question. "But it's safe to say he likes you, a lot." 

She felt silly now, not putting it together sooner. After all, there was no one else in the world she could think more aptly described as a siren made of the moon. And as funny as it was on paper, something about Selina and Nikolai made sense. 

 And, it made her heart beat giddily. Her faith in fate was complicated, but when it came to the Kostases, the concept was shockingly simple. And it seemed impossible that this was just coincidence, the four of them tied together like this. 

'Or maybe,' she silently scolded, 'it's wishful thinking so you can tell yourself you're not being completely crazy.' 

The rest of what Selina said registered belatedly and she blanched. "Wait. That was a lot of blood. Are you saying that it was all Nikolai's?"

“It was,” Selina replied softly.

"Jesus. What did he do, get in a knife fight?" Her voice was a mixture of concern and annoyance. 

She could see Nikolai doing something like that, to defend his own pride which he deflected onto Ollie, or for some other stubborn, idiotic thing. And now that there were two people she loved who would get hurt if something happened to him, she made a note to have a little chat with him about being so reckless. And to find Ollie later to check on both boys. 

"I know if he had you helping take care of him, I don't have to ask if he'll be alright." She nudged Selina teasingly with a shoulder, hoping to break up some of the heavy, contemplative air settling over them both.

“Knives don't cause QUITE as much damage as you think.  Unless you hit a vein.  Diego showed me how to do it effectively once.  Plus if he's like the others, Nikolai probably prefers fists to weapons.  Or the spider monkey sleeper-hold thing Klaus and Sunny do.  Although Papa stabbed Uncle Jonny once, it was just an artificial wound.” 

Selina suddenly scooped Jess up in her arms so they could go back to a cuddle.  She tangled her legs and arms around Jess to sort of dominate her personal space.  Her forehead pressed into her friend’s neck.

“He and Jimmy got into it, and they were on the boat dock.  Nik slipped and hit his head.  Ollie swam for like, the first time ever to get him up into a boat.  Had pressure on it.  I just stitched him with fishing wire.  They'll do better at the ER.”

Selina sighed, “If he's like them he wouldn't die anyways.  Klaus died like twice in a few days, also head injuries?  Either way, Nikolai would’ve been fine without me.”  

Then almost like an afterthought, “Did you say he talked to you about me?  Probably something about conquests and the Russian army.  But you!  YOU FELL IN LOVE this summer!  I got my pussy licked and think he's this mythical soulmate.  You're in actual, real love.”

Selina propped up on her elbow, “Have you slept together?  No I'm sorry,  YOU get to call it MAKING LOVE!!”  she burst into a fit of giggles around cheeks fired by jealousy.  “I am happy for you.  I promise.  I'm glad Sunny..  I'm just happy.”

"No, actually," Jess said, shifting around Selina so they tucked together more cleanly, like two matched puzzle pieces. This kind of closeness wasn't Jess's favorite thing, but Selina knew that, and Jess trusted that if she didn't need it, she wouldn't be initiating it. "It was surprisingly non-militant. And only one nautical reference."

Jess hesitated, remembering some of the incidents Selina had to deal with and one or two more from the summers that  Sunny, or Jess herself, had headed off before they got far enough to be a concern (or for Selina to even know). She wanted her friend to know just what Nikolai had said, and that he very much did not just see her as just some conquest. But the line between sweet and creepy was a hazy one at best. She brought one hand away from the tangle to fret the corner of her thumb between her teeth while she thought it over. 

"I'm not saying I'm jealous...but I thought it was romantic. And dramatic of course, look who we're talking about. But dramatic isn't always bad. I wish you'd stop dismissing yourself like that. Soulmate or no, you have some sort of feelings for him which seem serious; one might call it a crush at least. And he made you feel good. He made you happy. You're allowed that. You deserve it. And now, for the moment if not more, you have it, savor it." 

"As for Ollie and me..." 

She froze, frowning as she struggled to figure out just what to say. There was a part of her that feared a reputation of some kind (even though it was just Ollie that she'd been a first time for, and Sunny, but he didn't count). And another part that wanted to keep it to herself, even though most of her wanted to share. She bit again at her thumb, searching for words. 

"It's not that big of a deal?" 

Selina bit her lip before a yawn escaped her.  “One: a crush is a crush because you can get hurt.  Otherwise, it would be called a cushion.  I think that's what Papa said once.  Or was it Klaus?”  

Selina closed her eyes now. “Either way, it's a very big deal!  I can feel the difference in you.  I want you to be in love.  To maybe leave Sway Lake.  Come back to the city with me?  Close up this place for a few months.  You can live with me.  Or Oliver for a little while. Oh lovely little Oliver making my sweet Jessica come ‘round again.  All your sadness and little pieces everywhere.  I couldn't stitch you back together with fishing wire, could I?  I shouldn't have let Sunny break your heart.  I just didn't want being around me to remind you of him.  I'm sorry.  But Ollie.. he’ll..  Sorry, I think I'm a bit delirious from adrenaline?  Mind if I nap a bit?” 

But Selina was fast asleep before Jess could give permission.

Jess shook her head with a smile, carefully extricating herself and tucking her friend into the bed. Selina had given her a lot to think about.

[peakywitch]

Behind the Garrison, by the Canal - Finn Shelby

Word count: 1630

Warning: mention about sex and semi-nudity (?)

A/N: i wrote it in spanish and translated it, apologies if you see any mistake! 

gif: @el-cheung​

A soft knock on the door interrupted (Y/N) from his reading. She looked up curiously from her book, not knowing who it might be.

Her mother? She was upstairs sleeping with the baby.

Her father? He was working.

Her older brother? He was meeting his fiancé’s parents.

Finn? No, he was at a family meeting, it couldn't be him. Plus, they never met each other during the day.

Y/N got up from the uncomfortable purple sofa, going to the door. She tried to peek through the small window to find out who it was. Suit, a peaked hat, a cigar. A Blinder.

Sh took a deep breath, had her brother gotten into trouble? Having exhaled, she opened the door, showing Finn.

"Finn?" she asked curious and somewhat nervous, they were only supposed to see each other half past eight, behind the Garrison, by the canal.

If her father came earlier from work, she was dead.

"Hey, Y/N." he smiled, as he spoke fast.

"I know we said to meet in a few hours, but since I have the afternoon free, I thought about asking you if...you could...lend me another book?" the nervous smile was still there.

The young girl was teaching the younger Shelby how to read, and since he learned, he read every book there was and to be.

Pride and Prejudice? Finished in 72 hours.

Little women? One week.

Hell, he'd even read the bible and could recite some verses from memory.

On one occasion, Finn told Y/N that he had corrected Isaiah, about the bible:

"I will fear no evil!" Isaiah said humorously, as he answered Arthur about whether he was afraid on one of those many illegal occasions. “Jesus said it, you know, Arthur? And I…” Finn cut him off, correcting him.

"Isaiah, that’s Psalm 23:4." Finn said casually, as he finished his cigarette.

Arthur, John, and Isaiah burst into laughter, of course after trying to figure out how Finnny Boy knew so much about God.

"Sure, Finn. Give me a moment." Y/N closed the door, took the Illustrated edition of Alice in Wonderland that he was reading, took out the bookmark, and returned to the door. She opened it and Finn was still wearing that nervous smile.

"Here it is, have fun with Alice, the Queen and the Mad Hatter, Finn." Y/N's smile made Finn's hand shake.

A few weeks ago, the boy had killed a man. His hand did not tremble, his head did not hesitate. But, oh shit, his heart exploded in anger that night, at home. Finn would never admit it, but it scared him to grow up and be as savagely violent as Arthur, or as distant as Tommy. Fear and anxiety were eating him alive, until he realized that his hand was shaking when she smiled at him.

“Thank you, beautiful." He smiled, as he exchanged the borrowed copy of Romeo and Juliet for that copy of Alice. After a wink and a "see you later" he walked away.

With a stomach full of butterflies, Y/N closed the door.

"Hello friend," she whispered to the book. "Have they treated you well?"

Y/N sat down on the couch again, going over the sentences she had marked with her black pen for the umpteenth time. As she was fanning through the pages, a piece of paper fell on her legs. Curious, she took it in her hands and saw Finn's handwriting. She knew it was his, she had taught him to write in italics. Also, she would recognize that misaligned handwriting and that soft stroke anywhere.

“I thought I knew love until your beauty seduced my eyes. Page 118 –Finn”

She smiled.

After greeting her father who had just arrived from work, Y/N commented that she would go to sleep and skip supper. The clock in her room read half past seven in the afternoon, which gave the signal to Y/N to escape through her window.

She wrapped herself up, looked at herself in the small mirror on her wall, and went out the window. Although the house had two stories, Y/N's room was downstairs, making it easier for her to get out the window.

Legs out, then the torso, the arms, and finally the head. Once outside, she adjusted her hair and began her short walk.

Y/N lived just five minutes from the Garrison and should meet Finn in an hour. But she wanted to stop by the Garrison to say hi to Harry. Also, she was to bring him a shirt that her mother had fixed for him.

As she thought of Finn, the five minutes turned into two seconds, and Y/N found herself in front of the pub. It was Friday, so it was full of men with inhuman amounts of alcohol in their blood. She took a deep breath and opened both doors, the smoke from so much cigarette making her dizzy.

She walked over to the bar and saw Harry serving a scotch. Her nose narrowed, remembering that awful taste she'd tasted with Finn.

"It's horrible," Finn had said, "I don't know why my brothers drink this shit."

"Hello Y/N" Harry greeted, anyone could hear her mother's Irish accent on him.

"Hi Harry, I bring you your shirt. Mom thanks you for making her focus on something other than the baby."

They both laughed, as Y/N handed him the bag. After a casual chat, some questions about her father, her new brother and her mother, they said goodbye. Y/N passed by the private booth, but didn't hear a soul. Maybe Finn was already by the river.

It was a matter of seconds before she reached the river, in their usual spot. She sat on a rock and waited.

Two, five, ten, fifteen, thirty minutes.

It was ten past eight, maybe quarter past eight.

Finn wasn't coming, and Y/N was starting to get scared. It was late, she shouldn't be alone. It was eight thirty, she had waited fifteen more minutes.

"God, don't let anything bad happen, please” Y/N said between prayers.

When she got up, she started walking in the direction of his house. To Finn's house. She was sure he was reading. She headed to Finn's house mainly because she was only a few feet away from it and also because she wanted to know if he was okay.

When she arrived and saw the light on, she was relieved. She knocked on the door, she would ask him to accompany her home.

"I’m going!" Finn yelled, there was a laugh and a slim, semi-naked woman who was wearing a man's shirt opened the door, still laughing.

"Lydia I told you that..." Finn's laughter stopped "Oh bloody hell."

Finn had come up behind Lydia, shirtless and his suspenders dangling at his sides.

The floor shook under Y/N's feet. The rest was blurry, for both of them. Finn remembered the cold hitting his shirtless chest as he yelled Y/N's name all over Watery Lane and Saint Mary's Street, asking for forgiveness and for her to listen to him. Y/N remembered the knot in her belly, hearing nothing except her breaths and feeling how Finn's words he had written burned her heart. Her heart, for the first time, was breaking along with the trust she had in him. Because she thought he was good, she believed that he loved her and that he wouldn't be fooling around with others after all those kisses and secret talks on the river.

When she got to the door of her house, Y/N was trying to open it. But the key was on the other side.

"Can you hear me for a damn moment!?" Finn yelled, coming to her side. He took the sad girl by the arm and turned her around.

"Do not touch me! Don't ever touch me again in your fucking life, Finn Shelby!" she bellowed, tears spilling from her eyes.

"Okay." he quickly separated from her, releasing her “But you have to listen to me. I…She…” his voice trembled.

"Did you sleep with her, Finn?" Y/N whispered.

"No...I..." the boy nervously combed his hair as he looked at the floor, Y/N knew instantly that he was lying.

"You had sex with her?!" Y/N let out in a strangled cry, asking but claiming at the same time. Her angry eyes were focused on Finn's, who were scared "And don't lie to me, please don't lie to me."

"Yes."

Y/N’s throat went dry, while her heart kept on breaking.

"Since when?"

"Five months now."

"Oh..." Y/N let out bitterly, then laugh "You are so afraid of looking like your brothers that you forget a detail: You are them, you always were and always will be."

“Don't tell me that, Y/N. You can't tell me that…” Finn cried.

"Yes, I fuckin’ can. You could shag her, I can tell you the truth. I'm not lying to you, Finn. I never lied to you."

“Do you remember two weeks ago, on the river? You said…” Y/N interrupted him.

“I said how I felt, Finn. Now I feel so much, so much pain and hate that I wish I had never told you."

Finn's face was a complete puzzle.

The door slammed open, appearing Y/N's older brother.

"Bye, Finn."

She entered the house, and headed straight for her room, ignoring her brother's whispers about how she should never have gotten together with Shelby. That they do this, they do that.

“Y/N! I am talking to you!" Peter said, entering his little sister's room.

"Peter, stop it, ok?" exploded Y/N “I know I didn't have to hang out with the Shelby family. But you're also dating a stupid woman and nobody tells you anything! "

Peter backed away, shocked.

“No… Peter, sorry. Wendy is…"

“Save it, Y/N. I opened the door for you, so that Dad wouldn’t kill the Shelby himself. But first thing tomorrow morning, they want you down. Both of them."

And just like that, Peter left the room, leaving Y/N in a mess and crying.