#i still find it shocking and rude that in order to stop feeling like shit

[kenphobia]

PASILYO!

"Panalangin ko'y ikaw."

summary. moving into a new town is nerve-wracking, especially when your new neighbors are quite the eye candy. ( headcanons / 1k wc / read end notes )

contents. human au! welcome home, relationship dynamic is ambiguous and up for interpretations, general fluff, somewhat implied angst

WALLY DARLING!

✦ The surname 'Darling' was not unfamiliar to you. In fact, you recognized it being one of the many famous names in the art industry, a family of well-known artists. So when you found out your next door neighbor was no other than Wally Darling, one of the top selling painters, you couldn't put your shock into words.

✦ He truly lived up to his surname, being quite a lovely companion and always assisting you any of your problems. He'd always ask you to be his muse in return for his help or even join him on little trips to Howdy's Place for more art supplies.

✦ If you asked him to teach you how to draw or if you're an artist yourself and need some constructive criticism, he definitely does well in that department. If you're interested in dabbing into some painting too, he's right there beside you and guiding your hands on what to do, regardless of what medium.

✦ He'd even be your muse too! He'll be a bit embarrassed, not used to getting such attention in a way like this, but he does a great job at staying still and posing in a way that's not too difficult but enough to still be interesting.

✦ Coffee shop 'dates' are a must. Wally doesn't do well with coffee, so he orders tea more often that not. If he does get coffee, he always sticks with you so you can stop him from stealing Howdy's apples and running off. Again. He's ... energetic like that.

HOWDY PILLAR!

✦ Howdy was the owner of the bodega and you boss! When you had stepped into his store, you are set leaving with too many bags hanging from your arms and a nearly empty wallet. It doesn't bother much residents since his products are extremely high quality and worth the price.

✦ When I say he has everything, he has everything. There's nothing you won't find in his store, it's practically a mini mall at this point. Sure, he does lack in some areas but you cannot lie that this man has a lot jam-packed in his store.

✦ He's also one of the tallest neighbors you have met throughout your stay, and had lifted your body up more than twice and made you look like nothing more but a bag of grapes in his hands. Doesn't matter what your height is, he has those strong, finely toned muscles from always several boxes stacked atop each other.

✦ Howdy is the most intelligent when it comes to emotions since after all, he has a lot of siblings and most of them are younger than him and/or looks up to him a lot. You need a break? No problem! He'll lead you right to the staff lounge and offer you some tea. A hug? Someone to hold your hand? He is on the way with blankets and pillows, and there is no way stopping him from making a pillow fort. He will also listen to your vents and comfort you or join you in gossiping and shit talking about the more ... rude neighbors.

✦ Babygirl's always been girlypop like that. And oh, his hugs are the best! Absolutely comfortable and not gonna lie, you often feel as if he had four arms wrapped around you all firmly and sweetly. Sometimes, you can see another pair of arms protruding from his back. but you aren't sure if it is true or a work of imagination.

POPPY PARTRIDGE!

✦ Being Howdy's employee, you're bound to come across everyone's mother figure: Poppy! Though, she was a bit anxious and jittery around you at first, she quickly came used to your presence and would beeline straight for your register if you were covering up for one of the cashiers.

✦ She's incredibly sweet, easily flustered and often gifts you her baked goods or knitted accessories and clothing. She often invites you to her baking sessions, even teaching you the basics of baking if you haven't done it before.

✦ Whenever Poppy isn't feeling well, she'd usually go to the obvious person: Wally. After all, they have a close-knit familial relationship and Wally always knows how to calm Poppy's nerves. But when he isn't around, she comes to you. She calms down easily when she has you in her arms, cuddling on the sofa while the TV plays her favourite show.

✦ It's a bit funny when someone as tall as Poppy picks you up like a little ragdoll cat, shoves her face into your hair and sobs. It's even funnier if you're known to be quite grumpy, but you couldn't push Poppy away without Wally coming after you.

✦ If you ever yourself hurt, it's best to not let Poppy know or else she'll start worrying. It's fine if it's just a little scratch, nothing like a quick, thorough wash can fix. But please for the love of god, keep yourself in check and wound-free for both of your sake. Neither of you would not risk getting white hair in your 20's.

RANDOM HEADCANONS!

✦ All neighbors are somewhere around 25 and above, with Howdy being the youngest, and both Barnaby and Wally as the oldest.

✦ Wally graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Fine arts and Poppy managed to snag a BS degree in Nursing, but Howdy's an undergrad and wasn't able to finish college because of having to focus providing for his family more than his studies.

✦ Poppy used to work in a clinic before completely ditching it the moment she sees the slight of blood. She was willing to endure the grim crimson liquid during her college years, but she'd drink a whole spoon of vanilla extract than see blood again.

✦ Wally had a blue period once, but most of the paintings from that time is locked away in his basement. Only a few of them hung in some art galleries and Barnaby's house.

✦ Howdy spends his lunch break at the community center. He also avoids packing himself an apple because Wally once grabbed it with his teeth and ran off.

notes. this is just part 1!!! im prepping myself for that human au! welcome home x tma because i want to make expand more on their characters!! the story is basically self-indulgent and completely fanon. once the actual welcome home storyline is out, i may or may not rewrite it (again)

also dont mind me inserting the Filipino vibes into my writings. this isn't just half of it. i could make an entire human au! welcome home but all of them are filipinos, but i barely know my country and its people 😔

Anyways!! requests are always open, read my pinned post b4 interacting and have a good day (人*´∀｀)｡*ﾟ+

[cloveroctobers]

can you do head canons on what it would be like to date Layla keating? Preferably female reader but gender neutral is also good! It’s okay if you don’t want to ofc!

HEADCANONS DATING LAYLA ・❥✧.* ・❥・

A/N: why not? It’s nothing too long but there’s some cute moments in there. I think present Layla…like end of season 5 Layla would actually make a good girlfriend once she knows what she wants that is! But let me take that back, most of the previous relationships kinda did her dirty so she was somewhat valid. Anyways we’re talking about Layla with a fem! Interest here and I wrote this pretty quick which is why I love HCS so thanks for this request, hope you like it!

・❥✧.*・❥・・❥✧.*・❥・・❥✧.*・❥・・❥✧.*

It takes a minute for the relationship to kick off since Layla’s been lost in love before while also feeling like her previous relationships didn’t value her as a person or really get her they way that they should.

With you, the love was patient and kind and Layla’s actually the first to initiate your very first kiss.

She’s horrified by the impulse she’s pulled and a stuttering mess, “oh my god, I can’t believe I just did that, especially when you were just mid-sentence—I—I don’t even know what that was—

“Yeah, how rude.” You comment, lips swollen and Layla almost appears as if she wants to melt into a puddle and crawl away like a 90s cartoon, which makes a smile spread over your own lips, “Nobody should ever cut me off when I’m trying to show you Rihanna’s iconic pregnancy photos but—if it’s only by your lips, I’ll let it slide Keating, so come here.”

And now she’s shocked because you’re actually kissing her!

You establish what the relationship is going to be that same day after the first kiss, not making any assumptions and always laying it out on the table.

The communication between you two? *Chef’s kiss*

Patience is all grins and prideful when she gains knowledge of the relationship when you stop by with lunch one day, “you bitches! Am I the first one out of the Vortex to know that this is actually a thing?”

You did greet Layla with a kiss and a cup of her round face that she almost forgot Patience was even in the studio (she was practically melting by your touch) with you so yeah!

Layla’s all starry eyed as she rests her neck into the palm of her hand, lounging on the couch beside a curled up you, your hand on her thigh, smiling.

“Yup! But just know, she’s mine and I don’t plan on sharing her with you, or Coop.” Layla warns, not daring to envision a break up with you and the glare she sends Patience let’s the raspy girl raise her hands in surrender.

When coop does find out she’s all for third wheeling dates, hanging out with you guys—which is fine sometimes but ofc you also love your alone time as well.

Layla is the protective gf, someone staring at you weird in public? she makes sure to stay close and block you from their eye sight.

Taser is never too far from her reach, believe that!

If someone upset you? She’s ready to call them up and cuss them out/read them to filth or locate their whereabouts? She’s pulling up, might even throw a restraining order in their face—if it��s harassment status because hello business woman about her shit who doesn’t play!!! especially when it comes to you!

She loves your nose kisses, especially if you’re shorter than her.

Staying over at her place? She likes cold sheets and room while you prefer warm no matter the weather in California (yeah it still doesn’t make much sense to her either, maybe you’re anemic) and it’s no different in her bed. So ofc you’re gonna use her long legs as body heat.

She also likes playing footies and sleeps with fuzzy socks on?

“Layla! Why are the fuzzies in the bed?” Your eyes are wide with bewilderment while Layla chuckles, replying to one last text message before placing it back on the night stand and turns around so you’re face to face.

“Is there a problem?” “Yeah! Who goes to bed with socks on?” “Your girlfriend.” Layla blinks, waiting for you to challenge her more. “I think we should break up.” “Is the break up in the room with us right now?” Basically she knows you’re not going anywhere and will learn to love her quirks, which you already do and it’s likewise on her end so the both of you fall into laughter.

Lots of pillowtalking. Y’all love to just talk with each other about any and everything. If you get to do it laying down somewhere? You’ll be the first two to sign on the line!

Queens of taking naps as dates for 10 points Gryffindor!

She’s the big spoon! Occasionally she’ll let you spoon her if she’s under the weather or having a bad mental health day.

You do have to remind her to take breaks now that she’s reaching big heights as a record producer.

When she’s really stressed out about a track or anything circulating around a certain artist, you take her mind elsewhere for a mental break for at least an hour—usually giving her some sense of direction on how to handle the problem.

Both great at problem solving but mainly Layla is—you’re always team “I’ll figure it out later!” While Layla’s mind is always running until it reaches the edge and slamming right into a brick wall—but it works for her somehow.

The both of you enjoy board games with Layla liking games like scrabble, puzzles, and monopoly and you like clue, LIFE, and card games. If the both of you are on the same team with the rest of the vortex? You’re always the top two couple that’s hard to beat.

Lots of hand holding and chin pressed into your shoulder.

She likes having you as her passenger princess, enjoying the thought of you being beside her and she looks just as gorgeous whipping her ride around with ease, hand in yours.

She’ll spoil you with shopping sprees and always wants your opinion when she’s trying on clothes. She loves trying on clothes while you hate it but do it because she hates the return process since most high-end stores have shitty policies.

Idk I can see Layla getting involved with someone who wants to go into the medical field so while she’s got her career figured out, she’ll help you study for all your lab exams.

“I can’t wait to have my own personal Cristina Yang…or are you more of a Miranda Bailey?” Layla wanders while you just laugh tiredly at the dining table, head collapsed along your arm.

Definitely a supportive gf: will encourage you with clues that she’ll relate to any of your obsessions to help you get the answer right, massages, kisses, and strip teases.

Loves you in her clothes but she actually steals more of yours.

Always has you help her curl the back of her hair with her curling wand when she wants to wear it curly.

Starts wearing it more that way when you tell her how pretty in curls she looks, which you notice.

You’re the most active gf out of the two (you were a complete gym rat in high school and gave the boys a run for their money. You were also on the volleyball team back then and loved the whole gains aspect and working on your arms) and layla tends to only turn to exercise when she’s having a bad day.

You’re not as deep into the gym now thanks to declaring biomedical sciences as your major but you kept your workouts to at least three times a week and doing at home workouts every now and then.

You’ll have to drag Layla to take hikes with you—she rather do the hikes since the scenery is quite beautiful and you in cycling shorts?! is always a great sight to witness but 🤫

She prefers hot yoga or Pilates tbh.

The always busy couple who never find a reason to be bored and definitely keep each other entertained.

Want to go on a road trip or night drive? Layla only questions if it’s going to be a 24 hr thing or a couple of days so she can pack accordingly and make sure things will be handled at the studio in her absence. Any chance she gets to spend one on one time with you? She’s doing it.

You come up with spontaneous adventures, Layla just needs to know how far and the weather so she can prepared.

Whatever she wears, you’ll be sure to tell her how much you love something on her.

Words of affirmation are big in this relationship. 

I do feel like she’s more physically affectionate and you may be more verbal, perhaps that has to do with your professions/desires with Layla always having her hands in music and you constantly thinking out loud when it comes to the sciences and simple human nature—if we’re looking into it deeply.

You’re always reading world science articles to her btw and even if she doesn’t quite get it…she listens just like you do when she lets you listen in on the beats that get sent over to her by the engineer.

She doesn’t mind PDA at all, most of the time she’s always the one touching you and finding some way to touch you unconsciously.

Layla’s never felt like this before, a fresh love that didn’t have to feel complicated, questionable, or suffocating. She could be herself around you and knew she was falling in love whenever she would daze off just staring at you while you talked or just simply listening to the sound of your voice.

“You’re my favorite person, I hope you know that.” Layla finds herself saying on one of your many drives.

You pause in your balled up side of the car, “I’m starting to believe you…why else would you listen to me damage my vocal cords to a Whitney Houston song?”

Layla snorted, “…you have a nice tone.”

“Sure but I’m no Whitney.”

“You can be my Whitney. Because I’ll always wanna dance with you, my somebody who loves me.” She lightly sings

Gagging at Layla, you slap her thigh, “the cheese! I can’t take it!”

“Oh you love it! Don’t you wanna dance! Say you wanna dance!”

You wiggle your shoulders and flip your hair forward and over your face making Layla whoop and snap her fingers, twinkles in her dark eyes.

Laughing you smooth your hair back and reach forward to meddle with the staticky radio before looking for the aux cord.

The silence was just as comforting with the both of you driving down the dirt road, side by side but it was even better singing the lyrics to songs declaring your love for each other.

A love that’s worth it, deserves to be screamed together into the sky, to be felt and genuine

and you were sure a love with Layla Keating was just that.

・❥✧.* ・❥・・❥✧.* ・❥・・❥✧.* ・❥・・❥✧.*

Continue along with my spring anthology series here.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: not an ending, but a middle.

this chapter was ridiculously difficult to write and edit. it tops out at 7.5k words so… beware

***

Cassian and Nesta make full use of the summer house without his friends there, making love on every other surface just because they’re all alone and they can. Nesta shows a soft spot in particular for having sex in Cassian’s old bed, proving to him that she can be just as sentimental as he is.

Which is how they end up sprawled naked on the living room floor early the next morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms with nothing but a throw blanket to cover them.

Cassian is woken up by the sound of the front door being flung open, followed promptly by a feminine yelp as the intruder catches sight of the tangled couple in the living room. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cassian whips his head up to find who interrupted his sleep, and his nostrils flare in shock when he sees Mor at the entryway. He carefully but swiftly moves his arm out from under Nesta’s head and replaces it with a nearby pillow before starting to stand up. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Fuck no, I can see your ass—No, now I can see your dick!” Mor squeals in disgust, promptly spinning around and clapping her hands over her eyes like she can burn the image out of her mind.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cassian whisper-hisses at her, throwing a worried glance at Nesta’s still sleeping form. She doesn’t shift an inch.

Scooping up his flannel sleep pants from the floor, Cassian pulls them on while Mor makes gagging noises with her back to him.

Spying a pair of underwear flung over the arm of a chair, she bends to pick them up with two pinched fingers and turns to face Cassian, who’s now appropriately covered. Heavy judgment wrinkles her nose as she casts a glance to the owner of the panties, then to Cassian. “Granny panties, Cass? Is this what your sex life has been reduced to?”

“Don’t touch Nesta’s underwear.” He stalks over to Mor and snatches them out of her hand, before grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her off into the kitchen.

She shakes him off once they’re out of earshot from Nesta and takes a seat across from him at the wooden breakfast table. She brushes her golden hair over a shoulder and smirks. “Someone’s been having fun on their own while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassian repeats.

Mor waves a languid hand dismissively. “I ended up taking a commercial flight. I wasn’t a fan of being stuck on the same private plane as Az and Elain.”

Cassian blows out a tight breath, wishing he’d at least gotten some warning before his plans for the day were ruined. Plans that included taking Nesta in the lake before breakfast.

“But seriously,” Mor glances over her shoulder in the direction of the living room, “what’s up with the prude panties? I thought you would’ve thawed that ice pussy by n…” She trails off at the look on Cassian’s face, and a glimpse of fear crosses her own face. She forces a nervous laugh and twists her fingers together. “I suddenly remember making a promise a while ago,” she murmurs while staring down at the table.

“It’s a good thing you remember,” Cassian says stoically, “because I was just about to bring it up.”

“I know, I know, no criticizing your girlfriend.” Mor rolls her eyes.

“It’s about a lot more than that,” he grits. “It’s about how you’re only wary of her because you don’t trust me to choose who I give my love to. It’s about how you don’t respect my decision enough to maintain boundaries when you talk about Nesta.”

For once, Mor looks put off her game. “I never meant it like that,” she tries to say.

“That’s what it looks like,” Cassian retorts. “It looks like you’re judging someone you have no right to judge, like you’re trying to protect me from an imaginary threat.”

Mor coughs aloud. “Do I really need a scolding for a girl I see maybe twice a year? I haven’t even thought about Nesta since the New Year’s party.”

“It’s not a scolding,” Cassian says firmly. “It’s an order to be on your best behavior for the duration of this vacation, because the sisters and I went through a lot to get Nesta to come here. There will be no catfights, or backtalk, or rude looks and snide tones until we’ve returned home. The same applies for everyone else once they get here.”

“Or, how about this? I’ll stop making ice pussy jokes if you stop being this…” Mor waves a hand up and down at Cassian’s shirtless figure with a grimace, “unrecognizable creature with the tension of a forty year old single dad.”

Is Cassian tense? Of course he’s fucking tense. The last time he convinced Nesta to go to a family event with him was Christmas Eve, and he’s never letting that mistake be repeated ever again. His glare confirms it.

“Morrigan,” he says lowly with a hint of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. “But for the record, I’ve never said anything rude to your girlfriend’s face, and I never plan to.”

Cassian crosses his brown arms across his chest. “No, you’ve only done it to my face.”

Guilt crosses Mor’s features for the quickest second. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll pull back from now on.”

He releases a terse breath. “Good.” Now to hammer the message into anyone else who might threaten the quiet solitude he and Nesta have found here.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she adds somewhat apologetically. “You know I just want the best for you.”

“And you know I already know what’s best for me.”

Mor dips her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Can we go back to normal, then? I don’t like feeling like your adversary.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief, and his crossed arms fall away. “Of course, Mor.”

Like flipping a switch, Mor claps her hands together. “Good. I left my luggage in the rental car and it’s super heavy; I brought enough clothes for three outfit changes a day. Why don’t you put those big strong muscles to work while I get settled into my room?”

Before Cassian can object, she’s out of her seat and flouncing out of the kitchen. From the entry hall, Cassian can hear Mor say perkily, “Good morning, Nesta! Love the undies.”

Cassian drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it, then drops it again. Mor is going to be a work in progress.

“You okay?” A voice makes Cassian look up from the wooden table. Nesta stands in the kitchen entryway wearing nothing but Cassian’s shirt, and her hair is a rumpled mess from sleep. Her hands twisting into the hem of his tee tells him she couldn’t be less excited about Mor’s early arrival, though the rest of her doesn’t show it.

Exhausted apprehensiveness drops in Cassian’s gut. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks warily.

“Not much. I just woke up a minute ago and heard your voices.” She comes over to him and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Why, were you guys arguing?”

Cassian slings his arm around Nesta’s waist, basking in her warmth. “Not exactly.”

She frowns. “Was it about me?”

“It was about Mor.”

She nudges him. “Will you tell me about it?”

“No,” he quips, yanking her down onto his lap. He pecks a kiss onto her lips. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Nesta hums to herself. “So our morning plans are out the window?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Yup.”

“Does Mor actually like my undies?”

“Nope.”

***

The rest of Cassian’s friends and Nesta’s family arrive by late afternoon, piling out of a dark SUV in a frenzy of noise and colors. Nesta forgot how… many of them there were.

She lets Cassian and Mor handle the greetings, choosing to observe everyone from her spot near the stairs.

Azriel is the first to catch her eyes. He looks the same as ever, dressed head to toe in black even in the middle of a heat wave. Elain is an overdressed peacock in comparison to him, not that anyone would be comparing them, because they carefully stand at opposite ends of the entry hall.

He sends a simple nod Nesta’s way, which makes her narrow her eyes. Does he think he can act too cool for her just because they haven’t talked in a while? Idiot.

Feyre notices Nesta next and waves her arms wildly. “Get over here!”

Nesta reluctantly pulls away from the banister and nears their group, offering only a half smile to everyone there before hiding behind her sisters. Cassian cuts a glance her way in solidarity, and it feels like a pillar of reinforcement against her wavering self. She scrambles around for a solid ten seconds for something to say, either to her sisters or to the whole group, and finally comes up with, “What are we having for dinner?”

“That’s still hours away,” Rhysand assures. “Everyone scram and put your shit up first.”

“The girl has a point,” Amren grumbles. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Rhys, can we have an early dinner?” Mor whines.

And just like that, Nesta has melted into the background again. Which might be for the best, considering how loud it is right now.

Feeling overwhelmed, Nesta checks on Feyre and Elain to make sure they’re not paying attention to her, and then meets Cassian’s gaze through all the luggage and bodies. Tilting her head toward the back door to let him know that she’s leaving, she silently slips down the hall and out of the house.

Outside in the gardens, the light breeze soothes her heightened senses. It’s hot as shit at this hour, but she’ll take it for the peace and quiet.

Only a few minutes into her getaway, however, Nesta hears the porch door open behind her. Her shoulders stiffen when she hears footsteps that don’t belong to Cassian. There goes her peace and quiet.

Nesta is surprised to find Amren slinking up to her side, her small head appearing at Nesta’s shoulder.

Discomfort crawls through Nesta’s bones at the woman’s unexpected presence. It’s a subtle sense of wrongness, like being in the proximity of a predator but not having enough information to guess how they’ll attack.

“Hiding out from Rhysie’s big bad inner circle?” Amren taunts.

Nesta stiffens. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be thrown in her face.

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” she goes on. “We can be a scary group.”

“I’m not scared of anybody,” Nesta says, keeping her focus glued to the trees’ cherry blossoms. “I just wanted fresh air.”

“And I’ve wanted to find out what Cassian sees in you ever since he gave me that verbal lashing about being nice to his new girlfriend.” Amren turns to face Nesta fully, closing in. “What kind of pussy grip can a woman have to make Cassian of all men heel?” She hisses in a thoughtful breath through her teeth.

Nesta only shrugs, but her interest is piqued at the idea of Cassian warning Amren away from her. She definitely doesn’t need the protection, and once would have found it offensive, but… she likes the idea of someone standing up for her, being unapologetically on her side even if they have no good reason to do it. The only other times she can remember feeling defended were brief, subtle childhood instances with Feyre and Elain, and that was only because blood instinctively defends blood. It’s different to feel chosen. It makes her chest crack.

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Amren throws out, “Are you on the spectrum or what?”

Nesta again doesn’t reply.

“No one mentioned it, but I assumed as soon as I saw you.”

“It’s rude to make assumptions,” Nesta says, her voice cool as a running river.

Amren barks a laugh that sounds like a whip lashing. “I like you, girl.”

Nesta finally meets Amren’s silver gaze and states, “I don’t like you.” Her tone is blunt, to the point—but if she has to participate in this twisted version of small talk, then she should at least get to be honest.

Amren laughs aloud again, as if that genuinely amuses her. Nesta doesn’t know how amused Amren will be when she realizes that Nesta is serious.

She shrugs to herself, turning back to face the garden. It isn’t her problem, she decides.

***

“Even for you, this is overprotective.” Rhys’s voice comes from behind Cassian, who stands at the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen that peers out onto the gardens. He’s been watching Amren converse with Nesta for the last seven minutes—or rather, he’s been watching Nesta, inspecting her body language to gauge her discomfort.

It was a struggle not to hold his arm across the back door and block Amren from following after Nesta earlier. Amren had the look of a cat going out to play with a new toy, and Cassian had nearly snarled at her for it until she gave him that expression: the raised brow and sneer that said Really, Cassian? Pathetic.

It made him think of how Nesta would feel if she knew he was trying to physically keep people away from her, and he managed to have enough shame to move aside and let Amren pass with only a warning look.

So far though, it looks like Nesta is handling herself just fine. He should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

When Rhys doesn’t get a response, he comes up to stand at Cassian’s side and get a look through the glass door. “I never thought you’d be applying your passion for security to your damn girlfriend.” Rhys lets out a low whistle.

Without taking his eyes off Nesta and Amren, Cassian tells Rhys, “Protecting her is protecting myself. When she gets hurt, I feel it twofold.” And he really doesn’t want to be hurt on this vacation. Nesta already thinks he’s a crybaby as it is.

Rhys is silent for a long minute, as if he can’t deny that he would feel the same way for his own girlfriend. Eventually he says, “I might finally understand what’s going on in your brain whenever you’re around her.”

Cassian only nods.

Rhysand claps his hand down suddenly on Cassian’s shoulder, breaking the somberness of his confession. “Call them in to help make dinner,” Rhys orders. “I want all hands on deck tonight.”

Cassian looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing to help?”

“I’ll be watching the game on the nice TV that I paid for, in the beautiful new living room I also paid for.”

“Bastard.”

***

Nesta and Azriel help prepare dinner in silence. Their quiet acknowledgment of each other is better than any words could be, but it’s all shattered when Mor dumps a serving platter on the counter right next to Azriel.

“Ooh, ricotta-stuffed mushrooms!” She grabs a handful and starts arranging them onto her platter. “Az, how was your mystery weekend away? I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

Azriel shares an unreadable glance with Nesta before sliding his chicken parmesan dish toward her and saying loudly, “Wow, is that football?” He promptly turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

Nesta glares after him in disbelief, but Azriel can’t hear her wordless cries for help because he’s already in the living room.

Left alone at the kitchen counter with Morrigan, Nesta keeps wiping at the wine glasses that have been gathering dust in the cupboards. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Mor’s mouth is tightened into a displeased line.

Not that Nesta isn’t grateful for it, but Mor usually isn’t one to keep her mouth shut. She wonders if something is wrong that she doesn’t know about. “You look constipated,” Nesta tells Mor under her breath. “Anything you want to get out?”

Mor only scoffs in indignation. Then she shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I promised not to say anything.”

Now Nesta is really intrigued. “Promised who?” she prods. “Cassian?”

“Like you don’t know about it.” Mor rolls her dark eyes.

Nesta doesn’t know, though after Amren’s comment earlier she might have a hint. “I would prefer you be honest with me rather than follow Cassian’s orders.”

“That’s funny, so do I.” Mor plucks up a stuffed mushroom and shoves it into her mouth.

Nesta thinks back to how she woke up to Cassian and Mor’s voices lowered in seriousness. After what Nesta overheard on New Year’s Eve, it’s no secret that Morrigan doesn’t care for her, but she suddenly has the urge to have it said to her face. “Well, if you want to stop holding back with me, I won’t tell.”

Morrigan sets down her mushroom platter with a thump, turning to face Nesta like she’s done her a personal wrong. “You know what I know about you, Nesta?” Mor says. “I know that Cassian has changed since he’s gotten with you. I know that he’s more serious whenever he’s around you. I know that you don’t love him as much as he loves you. How can Cassian expect me to trust someone that doesn’t want to be around his own family? How can he expect me to trust you with his heart? Not that I’m allowed to be saying any of this, because I’m supposed to be hiding my feelings about you to stop my best friend from hating me.”

It’s crazy how a year ago those words would have been enough to make Nesta retreat to her room and never come out again. Each statement pricks like a shard of glass against her skin, though none of them are accurate or true.

And yet Nesta finds herself hurting more for Cassian than for herself. She feels her familiar old mask go up around her face and harden there.

“It sounds like your problem is more with Cassian than it is with me,” Nesta says stoically. “Because I won’t be going through any trials to prove myself. I have nothing to prove. I don’t care if you like me or not, if you’re nice to my face or cruel behind my back—but it’s rude to shit over your friend’s life choices like that. He’ll stop trusting you if you keep it up, and it won’t be my fault when it happens,” Nesta finishes. She wordlessly gathers the wine glasses in her hands and abandons a silent Morrigan to go set the table.

Nesta knows the dynamic at dinner is off with her presence there.

For once, Cassian’s priorities lie somewhere other than laughing with his friends. He keeps a protective hand on Nesta’s thigh from the moment they take their seats, and he only removes it when he’s filling her plate with food.

With memories of Christmas dinner hanging over all of them, Cassian looks like a bodyguard prepared for attack— except he’s contributing to a good half of the tension at the table.

“How was the drive here?” Feyre pokes at the two of them in an attempt to break the ice. Nesta glances to Cassian for his response, but his attention is taken by the platter of bread rolls.

Sighing internally, Nesta answers, “Better than yours, that’s for sure.”

Everyone laughs hesitantly. A steaming bread roll then appears on Nesta’s plate, golden and fluffy with a buttery aroma; one glance at the rest of the bread tells her it was the biggest roll in the pile.

Nesta drops her walls enough to give Cassian a small smile and an arm rub of appreciation, and then she reaches straight for the bottle of wine.

She loves Cassian and hates this dinner too much to allow this to go on.

After filling Cassian’s empty glass high with Merlot, Nesta presses it into his free hand with a subtle kiss on his cheek. “Relax a little,” she murmurs into his ear.

It takes ten minutes and two full glasses for her plan to take effect, but relax Cassian does. Like oil slipping through rusted gears, the tension in the room slowly unwinds and natural conversation starts to flow.

“You guys will not believe what I had to walk in on this morning,” Mor announces at one point during the meal.

“Yeah, yeah, Cassian’s ass and dick, we’ve already heard,” Amren says.

Cassian’s glare at Mor is more lighthearted than life-threatening. “This is why I can’t talk to you anymore,” he states, pointing a finger at her. Nesta is so glad for the lack of tension in his shoulders that she doesn’t even care if everyone basically knows about her having sex in the living room.

With Cassian acting more like his normal self, the pressure to make useless small talk is no longer on her. Nesta is content to watch everybody share stories and laughter, but for once she doesn’t feel like an audience member on the outside looking in. Maybe it’s because no matter how much Cassian drinks, his hand stays steady on her leg the whole night, keeping her rooted there with everybody else. He doesn’t let her fade into the background for a second.

“What’s that on your wrist, Az?” Mor’s voice rings from one head of the table. Azriel snatches his hand back in a flash before Mor can reach for it. From his other side, Nesta grabs it smoothly out of the air to take a look at the cause of Mor’s question.

She raises her brow at the sight of three colorful bracelets lining Azriel’s right wrist.

Az tries to pull his hand away, but Nesta’s hold is tight. Even if the signature of the maker wasn’t stamped onto one of the childish bracelets, she would know who had made them with one glance.

“What does it say?” Mor asks her.

“Nothing. Just some beads.” Nesta pulls Azriel’s dark sleeve over the beads that spell out GWYN’S BITCH and gives his arm a little pat. She sincerely hopes Elain is thoroughly over Azriel by now.

“Was that Rainbow Loom I saw? Since when did you wear kiddy bracelets?” Mor snorts at Az.

Nesta’s attention is pulled away from their conversation by a heavy head falling onto her shoulder. “Nestaaa,” Cassian slurs, slumping against her side.

Blushing at the attention he’s drawing to her, Nesta tries to shove a drunk Cassian back upright. “I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Oh really? Promise you’ll tuck me in?” He tries to wink at her, but it comes off as a strained blink.

He looks ridiculous. It isn’t helping the blush on her cheeks, though.

“I promise.” Nesta shoves her finished plate aside and grabs Cassian by the bicep, standing up and attempting to drag him with her. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

Mor is quick to get to her feet. “We can take him,” she offers eagerly.

“Who’s we?” Azriel mutters. Nesta hears a hard stomp, and then Az is coughing, jumping out of his seat after Mor. “Yeah, we’ll take him,” he says.

Nesta reluctantly lets Cassian slip out of her grasp as Morrigan and Azriel take one of his arms from either side.

“Wait, but I want Nesta to tuck me in!” Cassian twists around as he’s dragged away, drunkenly finding Nesta’s gaze. He’s pouting.

Affection battles with secondhand embarrassment and wins. “I’ll be right there,” she promises with a wave. As soon as Mor and Azriel accomplish whatever it is they’re trying to accomplish. Her voice flattens into a cold warning when she adds after them, “Be careful with him.”

Daring a quick glance back at the table, Nesta wants to cringe when she meets everyone else’s eyes. Rhysand looks highly amused. Feyre looks disturbed, and Elain looks glum with envy, the love-obsessed bitch. Amren is Amren.

After dinner is over, dishes duty is handed over to Rhysand and Amren goes off to bed complaining about beauty sleep, which leaves Nesta alone with her sisters in the foyer.

She doesn’t quite know how, but she ends up forgetting her promise to Cassian and following the girls out to the front porch for some fresh air instead. The sun has long since set, taking some of the summer heat with it, but the air is still stuffy as the three of them settle down onto hand-painted wooden chairs. Lanterns on the porch are lit up to keep the darkness away, and the lake before them gleams with the reflection of the rising moon.

Feyre is the first to speak, her voice hesitant. “It’s hot out tonight, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Elain announces. She stands abruptly from her chair and goes back inside.

Nesta and Feyre stare wide-eyed after the swinging front door, but a minute later Elain returns holding a decanter and three crystal glasses. She sets the glasses down on a side table and starts pouring. “It’s not really Tennessee without a strong whiskey,” she says to no one. “And I’m way too sober right now to handle this vacation.” The third glass gets an extra finger of liquor, and it ends up in Elain’s hand. She passes the other two to Nesta and Feyre before settling back into her seat.

Nesta grimaces at the drink in her hand without even tasting it. She hates most alcohol, but strong alcohol especially. For the sake of her sisters, however, she throws back half the glass without thinking.

Liquid fire scalds her tongue and throat, and she groans aloud. Instant regret.

Elain has no such issues downing her liquor. “Did you know,” she says after swallowing a gulp of whiskey like it’s apple juice, “that our old place is just a mile and a half that way?” She waves with her glass toward the back gardens.

“Is it really that close?” A frown wrinkles Feyre’s brow, like the memory of their old home might taint the perfect life she has now.

“Yes,” Nesta confirms. She doesn’t offer anything else.

Feyre shudders despite the temperature. “I hate even thinking about it. It’s so depressing. Reminds me of Papa.”

Which is also depressing, Nesta thinks to herself.

“It wasn’t depressing for me,” Elain says, chin tilted up in defiance.

That doesn’t surprise Nesta. Even in the depths of their father’s patheticness, he was Elain’s favorite man on earth.

Nesta used to wonder how her papa would have reacted if Elain was the one with crippling endometriosis pain every month instead of her. Would he have ignored her cries like he ignored Nesta’s, or would he have come running to her aid?

It’s not a question that’s worth Nesta’s time and energy, though. Not when the man himself has long been six feet under. Instead she pokes at Elain, “Then why did you hide your background from every guy you met like you were ashamed of it?”

“I was ashamed,” Elain says primly, “but that doesn’t mean I hated all of it. We didn’t all grow up with a ten foot stick up our ass; at least I could appreciate what we had without taking my attitude out on everybody else.”

The whiskey must be working quickly, because Nesta can’t hold back an unseemly snort. “There you go again,” she drawls in a cutting tone, pointing an accusing finger with the hand that holds her glass at Elain. “Dishing out shit when you can’t take it back. At least not without crying.”

Feyre, who was trying to hide her cringe with the rim of her drink, now perks up with eagerness. “She does do that, doesn’t she?” she exclaims. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Elain’s lips twist into an indignant sneer. “What’s this dynamic now, why’s everyone ganging up on me?”

Nesta mutters, “Because you need to hear it every now and then.” Turning to Feyre, she adds, “God, she can be fucking annoying.”

“Oh, like you’re everyone’s favorite person to be around?” Elain scoffs.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. That’s called a con artist, Elain. You’re a con artist.”

There’s stunned silence for a tense moment—and it’s broken by full laughter. Elain is chuckling sweetly as she says, “Well, I suppose it’s okay if only you two are the ones who notice it. It can be our little secret.” She presses a finger to her pink lips.

Feyre giggles along at that too, but Nesta remains quiet. Too sober for the current mood, perhaps. “Do you think someone will notice at one point?” she asks Elain. “That the smiles and Southern charm and—the kindness...” She doesn’t know how to feel about that word in relation to Elain. “Do you think someone will notice that that’s not all there is to you?”

Elain’s grinning face freezes quicker than an actress’s. “No one will know,” she answers smoothly, “because I’m not going to be with anyone else for a while.”

At the confused silence filled only by the chirp of cicadas, Elain supplements, “I’m trying out the single life.”

Nesta meets Feyre’s eyes, and it only catalyzes the sound quelling up in her throat. At the same moment, the two sisters burst into cackling laughter. Well, Feyre cackles. Nesta makes a noise that imitates a dying whale.

“I’m serious,” Elain insists, glaring at them. “If Nesta could spend all those years living like a widowed hag, why can’t I? I don’t need men to live.”

Nesta’s laughter sours at the insult, and she turns to Elain with seriousness in her tone. “No one needs anyone else, Elain—but you treat loneliness like a leper from the Middle Ages. Are you even happy for me and Cassian beneath all that jealousy?”

Elain shifts uncomfortably in her chair and mutters, “Of course I’m happy for you two.” And then she adds in a much quieter voice, “Deep, deep down.”

“Is that what was wrong with you on New Year’s?” Feyre asks gently. “You were jealous?”

Nesta raises a brow; she didn’t know this.

“I wasn’t exactly having fun watching you two suck face right after getting dumped by Azriel,” Elain tells Nesta. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. I just…I’m not used to being the lonely one.” She huffs out a sigh and reaches for the decanter again. “If anyone should be in a happy and healthy relationship right now, it should be me.”

Feyre turns to Nesta and whispers too loudly, “You’re right, she is fucking annoying.”

“Don’t get too friendly; so are you.”

Feyre leans away from Nesta in affront. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You don’t need to do anything for Nesta to think she’s better than us,” Elain chimes in.

The three of them break out into bickering, which soon devolves into hysterical laughter, which then morphs into a comfortable silence—which doesn’t last long until they’re bickering again. They spend the rest of the night going in small circles like that over their whiskey, occasionally taking breaks to talk of more serious things: Elain’s flower shop is finally starting to pick up business, but expenses are still too high. Nesta is worried about Cassian being all alone in Italy by himself, but she’ll never show it to him. Feyre’s work at the children’s art studio is making her seriously consider having kids (“Don’t you dare, you’re way too young,” Nesta threatens).

Each of them reveals that they miss at least one of their shitty parents these days.

Maybe it’s because they’re under the same night sky that they spent their childhoods under, but if Nesta closes her eyes, it’s like she’s seventeen again, letting her sisters stay up and talk her ear off even though it’s a weeknight.

***

The lack of Nesta in Cassian’s bed must stop him from succumbing to deep sleep, because his nap is hazy and doesn’t last more than a half hour. When he blinks awake, the fog of wine from earlier has mostly cleared away and the lamps in his room are lit. Mor sits on the bay window seat and Azriel lounges on a chair nearby, both of them murmuring quietly to each other.

Noticing Cassian’s movement, Az turns away from Mor and drawls, “That was quick.”

Groaning, Cassian rubs at his eyes and sits up straight. His shirt and jeans are flung on the floor, and he can only assume he took them off himself before collapsing into bed.

Holding the thin blanket to his chest, he demands, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, now he has modesty,” Mor grumbles.

Cassian grabs his wrinkled shirt from the floor and shrugs it on before repeating his question. “What are you doing here, and where’s Nesta?”

“Don’t know,” Az shrugs from his chair. “But Mor wanted us to talk alone, so Nesta probably doesn’t need to be here.”

Growing wary, Cassian straightens up against the headboard. “Talk about what?”

Mor’s words take him by surprise. “I wanted to apologize.” She straightens up in her seat and throws a cautious glance at Azriel. “And I wanted Az with me for moral support.”

Az rolls his eyes to himself, likely considering the task beneath him.

“I didn’t take your words that seriously this morning,” Mor goes on, “but I’m taking them seriously now. Someone made me realize that I’ve been blaming your—girlfriend... for our relationship changing when I’m the one who’s been pushing you away the whole time. While you were falling in love, I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t trust you to find love without my input, and I didn’t respect you when you did.” Tears line her dark eyes, taking Cassian aback. “I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Please don’t hate me.”

A headache takes root in Cassian’s temples, and he has to shut his eyes against the dull thudding. “I could never hate you, Mor,” he says past the lump in his throat. That was never the problem, though her words have eased some of the pent up frustration in his chest.

Cassian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just you. It’s every single one of us. We’ve known each other so long, we’re so fucking entangled in each other, that even when I’m living by myself up in my cabin I feel like I can’t get away from it.” He stares out the window like he might find some relief there. “That’s why I’m going overseas. To get some space from all of this.” He waves between the three of them and laughs bitterly. “We created this incestuous little circle and now we don’t know how to care about anyone outside of it.”

He catches Az frowning, fingers toying with one of the bracelets on his wrist that Cassian spied earlier.

Mor sniffs away a lingering tear. “What about Nesta, then? Where does she factor in?”

Cassian’s mouth turns down in a distasteful frown. He still doesn’t like that he has to leave without her, but the fact that he doesn’t like it is only more proof that he needs to do it. “I can’t let Nesta be a part of me,” he answers. “I need to be all of me.”

Only once he learns how to do that can he be the friend and lover that the people in his life deserve.

***

Nesta wakes up the next dawn not on a hard chair, but in a soft bed. The smell of Cassian lingers on the sheets wrapped around her, and she blinks blearily as she tries to remember the events of last night.

Feyre fell asleep first. Elain and Nesta were just going to close their eyes for a moment and take a brief rest as well, but the next thing Nesta knew Cassian was helping her take out her contacts and laying her head against a pillow. Now the sun is dawning and she has a pounding headache. She needs at least another ten hours of sleep before she’ll be fit to face the world again.

She looks around for her phone to check the time and spots it plugged into the charger on the bedside table. Despite feeling like she’s been rammed with the flu, the tiniest smile lifts Nesta’s lips at the thought of Cassian carrying her to bed and making sure to charge her phone.

She finds her lockscreen blown up with notifications, all from her shared groupchat with Gwyn and Emerie.

Clicking into her texts, Nesta scrolls back through the hundreds of messages to see what she missed.

Emerie: i can’t believe nesta isn’t here for this.

Emerie: what the hell is she doing

Gwyn: probably hanging out with her best friends the inner circle

Gwyn: or getting railed

Emerie: >:(

A tired laugh escapes Nesta as she reads the texts, and she’s grateful for the reminder that these are her chosen friends. This is her found family, and she’ll be back with them soon.

Scrolling a little further back, Nesta finds the cause of all the commotion.

Emerie: A RACCOON JUST FELL THROUGH MY CEILING IM GONMA DUE &%!@

Emerie: DIE

Followed by multiple pictures of a scarily large raccoon chewing up Emerie’s bed.

Nesta shudders at the images. Reminding herself to message the girls back as soon as she has her head on straight, she puts away the phone and drags herself out of bed.

Her knees wobble a little as she stands upright and slips her glasses on, but her body keeps moving automatically toward the door. It’s not until she’s halfway downstairs that she realizes she’s looking for Cassian.

In the main hall that cuts through the house, Nesta glances between the back door and the front door. Instinct tugs her toward the front door, and as she passes the living room she spies Elain knocked out on the couch.

One of her legs dangle off the edge of the cushion and she still has her shoes on, like she dragged herself up onto the loveseat in the middle of the night and fell straight asleep.

Cassian brought Nesta up to their room sometime during the night, and Rhysand would have done the same for Feyre, but Elain… Elain has no one to carry her to her room, Nesta realizes.

Hating the unusual feeling of pity that blooms inside of her, Nesta goes over and grabs a throw blanket from nearby. She flings it haphazardly over Elain’s body. There, that should do it.

She might take a few seconds to tuck the blanket in a little better, but then she’s out the front door and jogging down the porch steps. Early morning dew beads the grass, and the sun isn’t high enough in the sky yet for the heat to be unbearable.

Like perfect timing, Cassian’s form appears from the lightly wooded running trail that circles the lake. He has his hair tied up and is wearing nothing but workout shorts, and even from this distance Nesta can see the sweat gleaming off his hardened chest.

She forgets about her headache and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol coating her tongue. Her feet speed up on the grass, and then Cassian takes sight of her too. He grins wide and breaks into a run toward her.

When they’re mere feet away from each other, Nesta is the one to halt first and hold out a hand, blocking Cassian’s incoming bear hug. “Don’t you dare.” She eyes his body with a warning look. Nesta will do a lot of things for her boyfriend, but sticking her face into his sweaty pits is not one of them.

Cassian looks her up and down with scrutiny, trying to decide if going in for the hug anyway is worth it. “Fine,” he gives in. He spins on his heel and walks down to the head of the pier, where a standing shower is set up for washing off after swims in the lake.

Twisting the faucet, Cassian stands under the cold burst of water and gives Nesta a look that says, Happy now?

Nesta cautiously goes over to where Cassian stands, but she gets too close—

In a blink, she’s being tugged under the shower stream, held tight to Cassian’s chest.

“Cassian!” Nesta splutters, trying to pull away. Droplets hit her glasses and blur her vision, and she has to shove the glasses up into her hair so she can properly glare at Cassian’s face.

He only laughs deeply and tugs her closer. “Like you don’t smell either. You’ve been in that dress since yesterday.”

Nesta catches her breath under the pouring water, glancing down at her soaked sundress. Right; she probably needs this more than he does.

The water isn’t freezing like she expected, she realizes as she relaxes in Cassian’s arms. It’s actually the perfect temperature, almost soothing after the initial shock to her senses.

Broad hands stroke long lines across her arms, like Cassian is making sure that she isn’t uncomfortable. The action triggers an old memory inside Nesta—or rather, an old familiar feeling. The feeling of Cassian in Nesta’s early days of knowing him, always pushing her out of her comfort zone but never tossing her in the deep end to drown.

“I handled my sisters and your friends pretty well the other night, don’t you think?” she murmurs into his chest.

Cassian looks down at her with pure reverence in his eyes. “I can’t be surprised. You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave as hell. From the minute you stepped outside of the little circle you’d drawn around your life, you became the bravest person I know.”

“Not true,” Nesta states matter-of-factly. “I can name at least three braver people.”

Cassian pokes her in the ribs, but his smile is good natured. “It’s just an expression, Nes. Take the compliment.”

The shower keeps spraying around them, refracting the sunlight to scatter rainbows across Nesta’s vision. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she tells Cassian earnestly. “I did the bulk of the hard work, but you…you gave me that first push. You taught me I could find safety in others, because you were my first real friend.”

Her words clearly take Cassian by surprise. Maybe it’s because Nesta is so rarely open about her true feelings, so her words have more value when she is. Maybe Cassian just wasn’t expecting to get so much credit, which is why he blinks rapidly now. “And what now?” he tries to tease, emotion tangled in his throat. “You have better friends?”

“Much better,” Nesta plays along, but her gaze carries all her sincerity. She suddenly laughs to herself, remembering: “I was terrible at socializing.”

It’s something she brushes off easily now, but few people will ever know that part of her inability to get close to others stemmed from a debilitating fear of rejection.

“Not to me.” Cassian reaches out to twist the faucet off, leaving the two of them standing soaked in the morning air. “I loved talking to you. I couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you, even if you didn’t feel like talking back.” That was how insistent he’d been on becoming her friend, that he would open up to her even when she was closed off to him.

Nesta watches Cassian tug his hair tie off, a little dazed by how much she feels for him in this moment. She isn’t ready for when he scrubs a hand vigorously through his loose hair, shaking the dripping strands out like a dog.

“Cassian!” Nesta scolds for the second time this morning. She flinches back at the water droplets hitting her eyes, making Cassian laugh when he looks back up at her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. To make up for the assault, he delicately plucks her glasses off the top of her head and uses the hem of her wet dress to wipe off the lenses as best he can.

He slides the glasses back onto her face and nods, inspecting her. “That’s better.” Then he swoops down to kiss the mole beside her mouth.

Nesta wrinkles her nose in surprise. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a thank you,” he says. “Thank you for your car breaking down in the middle of the woods, and for agreeing to spend the night at my place last September.”

Nesta’s brows raise high in amusement. “Shouldn’t you be thanking Feyre? For calling in that favor with you?”

“One day, I’ll do that too,” he promises.

Nesta bites down on a smile and shakes her head, muttering, “Ridiculous.” Yet she can’t help but wonder: who would she thank?

The universe, probably. Whatever forces made it possible for her to wake up every day in the same bed as Cassian, eating the food he cooks and accepting the unconditional love he offers.

She suddenly shivers under the rising sun, becoming aware of how just uncomfortably her sundress clings to her body. Without Cassian’s words distracting her, everything is damp and cold.

Cassian notices and slips his hand into Nesta’s, already starting to pull her away from the pier and toward the house. “Let’s get you dry,” he says. “I’ll make us pancakes before everyone else wakes up.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips.”

So hand in hand, the two of them walk back up to Cherrywood House.

***

a/n: IM FREE OF THIS BEAST. that ending was absolutely horrible to write, but i hope it satisfied you anyway. and if didnt, well, that’s what the epilogue is for

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[lillianastras]

“Hit Me With Your Best Shot” -- The Darkling x Reader

Pairing: The Darkling x Reader (no surprise here)

Warnings: none, I think

Summary: The Darkling and his second spar in the morning, after he starts to doubt her abilities have worsened over time.

A/N: I feel so great that I actually used my own experience in martial arts for writing this. Also, I’m so empowered by all the great feedback I’m getting from you guys. If anyone has requests, please send those my way!

“Rule number one,” he says, “Only take a break after saying you need a break. Otherwise I won’t know and will wipe the ground with you.” Her eyebrows shoot up and he has to fight a smile, glad he caused the reaction. “Rule number two,” he continues, hands behind his back, his wrists wrapped in cloths, to numb the harshness of his blows. “No Small Science. Whatever you do to me, you do it with your own two hands.” “That was just plain filthy.”

This time Aleksander grits his teeth, not appreciating the interruption. She is standing in the middle of the training grounds, arms crossed in front of her chest, the same irritated expression on her face since she had woken up. He could tell she was looking around, looking for an opportunity, an excuse to leave. Yet, there is little chance that anyone else is up this early, except by the pair of guards by the gate.

“The Drüsskele attacks are getting more aggressive than ever,” he hisses , trying his best not to raise his voice at her. “You need to know how to defend yourself when they hold your hands apart.”  It’s not happening again, he thinks. The years have passed, but even time didn’t manage to blur the memory of Luda bleeding out on the ground. “I know how to defend myself!” She hisses back, and the Darkling gives her a cold stare.

“Ivan said he managed to tackle you to the ground several times yesterday.”

Her lips curl in disdain, but not for Ivan, he knows. She likes the Heartrender probably as much as he does, which came as a surprise at the start. He is rude and harsh, but even he manages to crack the occasional smile to two in her presence. That’s just how she is.

No, he thinks, the grimace just proves the truth in his words. Her skills had deteriorated, and she needs to get herself together. For her own good.

“Ivan is bigger than me,” she mumbles, but her eyes are staring at the ground. Even she realises this is a poor excuse, if any excuse at all. 

“They are always going to be bigger than you. And I might not be there to have your back at all times.” It might not matter, he thinks bitterly, and his hands ball into fists, even if I am.

“Alright.” The easy agreement comes as a surprise, although easy might be an understatement. She gave her best efforts to keep him in bed this morning with gentle caresses, suggestive whispers and kisses down his neck. But still, he had dragged her outside as quickly as he could and she was sour ever since.  “Let’s see if you get to wipe the ground with me.” She adds and he knows he managed to annoy her.

She takes her battle stance, her guard up and the Darkling sighs, eyes turning to look around. The sun is starting to rise higher in the sky and he realises he has little time left, just because no, Aleksander, you cannot ruin my reputation by throwing me around in front of everyone. Soon, people would start waking up, ready to start the day and they would have to leave training for tomorrow, when he would have to bring himself to say no to her advances again and… No. They have to start today.

She raises her eyebrow at him, challenge barely veiled, and he takes a deep breath, letting the thrill of the upcoming fight wash over him.

His first punch is not that fast, he knows, and she manages to dodge it with ease. Her elbow slams in his chest in return and was most probably going do force the air from his lungs if he hadn’t tensed. He is forced a step back. When he looks at her, there’s a small cold smirk growing on her face. She isn’t that out of practise after all. The Darkling squints his eyes and starts to pay more attention.

This time she doesn’t wait for him to charge, and when she aims her foot for between his legs, he knows he had touched a nerve. He blocks the kick with his forearm, but he doesn’t bother stop the grin that is slowly stretching on his face. Quick as a cat, he closes the distance between them, taking a tight hold of her wrists, their faces so close she could head-butt him in the nose if she wanted to.

“Is that why you’re so irritable all morning,” he asks, letting out a quiet grunt when she stomps on his foot, but he doesn’t let go. “Because I wouldn’t sleep with you?” This time he manages to move his foot in time and she groans as she misses. “For real?”

“No,” she answers quickly, too quickly, and he grins even wider, because her reaction is so petty, that he can’t really help himself. “You’re putting way too much faith in your ability to —” 

He doesn’t let her finish and puts his foot behind hers, giving her a harsh push. She looses her balance and falls ass first on the muddy ground, shock written on her beautiful face.

He grins down at her, reaching out a hand to help her up. She finally comes back to her senses and looks around, her pants and shirt far from clean, mud covering her hands. She grits her teeth and whispers something under her breath, and Aleksander recognises Ivan’s name, followed by a string of curses. She then glares up at him and stands up on her own, ignoring his open hand. 

“Again,” she demands, squinting her eyes against the reddish strays of the morning sun. The Darkling attacks again, this time not holding back as much as the first time. 

He doesn’t realise how much time passes, punches delivered and blocked from both of them, until they are both panting messes, sweat dripping from their foreheads and sticking strands of hair to their skin. Aleksander allowed himself a moment of distraction, glancing around the training grounds. The palace was slowly coming back to life, voices heard from inside and the occasional kefta-clad figure running around the place.

“Scared someone will see that you’re getting your ass kicked?” Her guard is up and he can’t see the shit-eating grin that is plastered on her face, but he can practically hear it. It’s amazing what an hour of good sparring can do for one’s mood.

“You wish,” he calls back. “Final round?”

“I thought you’ll never ask.”

A smile creeps its way on the Darkling’s face. He takes slow, careful steps to the side, circling her, and her eyes follow him, not even blinking. Yet she is too focused on his movements that she doesn’t notice him close the distance at all. Just like he intends. 

She is so surprised by the sudden attack, that she barely fights back when he grabs her wrist and gives her a harsh tug. He bends it behind her back in a swift motion, enough to trap it between his body and hers. 

His free hand goes straight for her throat, fully pressing her back against him.

She tries to wriggle out of his grasp, but he presses her forearm slightly upwards and she hisses in pain, giving the hand that is wrapped around her throat a few quick taps, to let him know she surrenders. He stops the pressure on her arm, but doesn’t let go just yet. He leans in, his breath tickling her ear. “Not too bad,” he whispers, and he has to remind himself that they are out in public, “but you still have much to learn.”

She finally releases her, and grins when she turns around and her eyes are a little hazy. She takes a deep breath and when her gaze finds his, she shakes her head at his smirk, her hand rubbing her wrist to dissolve any pain.

“Careful General,” she lowers her voice to a whisper and theatrically looks around, as if to make sure no one is listening. “Someone might actually see you smile.” She sighs. “Can we call this a draw?”

He outright laughs at her audacity. “A draw? You didn’t win even one round!”

“I disagree.” She shakes her head and gives him a cocky raise of her eyebrow and a wave of her hand.“Plus that last one was hardly fair.”

His gaze hardens. Even though the last round really was more playful than aggressive, he had managed to disarm her and have the upper hand after all. If it wasn’t his hand around her throat, she’d be dead. She needed the practice.

As though she reads his mind, she rolls her eyes. “I won’t admit that you were right.”

He snorts a humourless laugh. He doesn’t really expect her to.  “But we continue tomorrow.” It’s neither a request, nor a question. It’s an order from a General to his warrior.

She sighs and he knows she’s about to murmur some complaint. Shockingly, gives in with a shake of her head and after a long observation of her clothes, ruined from the mud, she mutters a quiet. “You’re the boss.”

He grins. “I’m the boss.”

[andvys]

Bad idea / part 2

warnings: angst, slut shaming

pairing: Ellie Williams x reader

-

The obnoxious sound of your alarm clock pulled you out of your deep sleep, startling you as the ringing echoed through the whole room, opening your eyes, you closed them right away when you realized how light the room was. 

Groaning in annoyance, you reached over to the nightstand, turning off the alarm, knocking off a water bottle in the process. 

“shit..” you mumbled, as you regretted drinking so much the night before. 

You were about to sit up when you heard a quiet mumble coming from next to you, along with the sound of rustling from the bed sheets. 

Opening your eyes, you liked to your right, to find someone sitting up. 

More specifically, Ellie sitting up. 

‘oh my god.’ 

You closed your eyes again, cursing at yourself, you forgot that you brought her back home last night. 

You could remember it only vividly but enough to know what the two of you did last night. 

Even if you didn't remember, the lack of clothes under your blanket would be enough for you to realize what happened last night. 

‘this is so awkward.’ 

Sitting up, you hold the blanket tightly to your chest as you watch her put her clothes on, hastily.

“morning.” you mumbled, cringing at the way your voice sounds in the morning. 

“morning.” Ellie muttered, not even looking at you as she bend down to put her shoes on, mumbling something under hear breath.

“umm, do you wanna talk about what happened?” you asked her, looking up at her, noting her disheveled hair.

Her eyes snapped to you, looking at you with a cold stare, unlike the night before she gave you a very uncomfortable feeling. 

“what's there to talk about?” she exclaimed “we fucked that's it.” she snapped at you before she grabbed her jacket.

‘ouch.’ 

It hurt you more than you wanted to admit, you thought she was interested in you. 

You just met yesterday but still, she didn't show any signs of only wanting to have sex with you and then leave it at that, she was being nice, warm and welcoming. 

You didn't plan on having sex with her but it just happened, you were drunk and you were attracted to her and you thought she was attracted to you too.

So that what it was to her, just a one night stand and now she was being rude about it too?

‘what a bitch.’ 

“so uh- that’s what you do?” you asked her, you were hurt but you were also getting angry at the way she glared at you. 

“what?” 

“act nice and interested?” you asked, tilting your head at her. “that's what you have to do to get someone to fuck you?” 

She scoffed “I fucked you, not the other way around, now if you’ll excuse me I have more important things to do then talk to you.” she muttered, leaving but not before she sent one more glare your way. 

Shaking your head, you scoffed at her behaviour.

How could someone be so nice and cool and then act like a complete bitch the next day?

You decided not to spend any more time thinking about her, she wasn't worth it.

Instead you got up and went into the bathroom to take a shower before your first shift for patrol.

-

Ellie left your house, closing the door, she leaned against it and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 

‘fuck me.’ 

She was so mad at herself for sleeping with you, not because she regretted it but because of Jesse.

She had the impression that he has a crush on you, after everything that happened with Dina, she wished that he would find someone he was interested in enough to want to date them. 

She has seen the way he looked at you back at the cafe and at the bonfire and she just went ahead and slept with the girl he probably liked. 

Of course her and her best friend would end up liking the same girl, what a joke.

Pushing herself off the door, she started walking away, only to run into Jesse who seemed to be on his way towards your house. 

Her eyes widened, panic settled in her chest. 

“good morning, what are you doing outside so early?” Jesse asked, smiling at her as he stopped in front of her. 

“h-hey.. I- uh just went to get some fresh air.” Ellie stuttered out, scratching the back of her neck. 

He looked her up and down, raising his brows at her “in the same clothes as yesterday?” he chuckled. 

She gulped nervously “yeah.” 

“okay, well I gotta pick up y/n, it’s her first patrol day today.” he explained. 

Of course he gets to spend time with you, she couldn't help but feel jealous, she told herself that she would step aside so he could be with you but it still angered her.

Ellie nodded, glad that Jesse didn't seem to pick up on her behavior or where she was coming from. 

“have fun.” Ellie mumbled, bitter about this whole situation. 

“you too.” Jesse said, before he walked away from her. 

Ellie cursed at herself, hating herself for being so bitter and jealous about this whole thing. 

-

“I know you wouldn't have to be a part of the patrol teams, you’ve been out there for so long, I know you can handle yourself.” Jesse said, walking next to you with his rifle in his hands as you came back from patrol.

You nodded, not really paying attention about what he was saying. 

Ellie has been on your mind all morning, you didn't understand her, everything was fine the day before and now she turned into a completely different person. 

“hey- are you listening?” Jesse asked, pulling you out of your thoughts as he stopped walking and turned around to look at you. 

“oh uh sorry- I was.. I was thinking about something.” you muttered, looking at him, feeling bad for not listening to what he was saying.

“that’s fine.” he chuckled, eyeing you “you’re tired huh? had a long night?” he asked. 

Blushing, you looked down, did he know? You really hoped he didn't, you wouldn't want to discuss your night with Ellie with him, especially after she was being so rude about it. 

“uh I just couldn't sleep, that's all.” you mumbled before you kept on walking.

“you and Ellie had a lot of fun last night haven't you?” he asked, making you halt in your tracks.

“what?” you asked, your eyes widened, so he did know.

“at the bonfire.” he explained, furrowing his brows as he looked at you, trying to figure out why you looked so shocked “I saw you guys, laughing and joking around the whole night.”

“oh..” laughing nervously, you nodded “yeah.. she was nice.” you mumbled. 

“I knew you guys would get along.” he said, smiling at you. 

Nodding, you thought so too until she was being an asshole this morning. 

“do you wanna get some coffee?” he asked. 

‘where Ellie is? no thanks.’

“umm, I'm kinda tired, so I’m gonna head home.” you told him. 

“alright, well, do you umm- do you wanna hang out sometime?” he asked, nervously. 

“yeah, sure.” you shrugged, smiling at him. 

“we can watch a movie or something.” he offered, looking at you with a smile on his face. 

“yeah, how about tonight?” you asked.

“yes sure, tonight.” he smiled “tonight is perfect.” he grinned at you. 

“okay.” you chuckled before you turned around, making your way back home. 

-

You tried to think of something else but you couldn't help but let your thoughts drift off to Ellie, you wanted to talk to her, ask her if you did anything wrong or said something that upset her that night but you knew your stubbornness would prevent you from going up to her and talk to her, after the attitude she gave you that morning you couldn't just go talk to her as if nothing happened.

She obviously regretted sleeping with you, you didn't know why but she did. 

There was just one thing you didn't understand. 

She was the one who made the first move. 

She was the one who kissed you first. 

So what was her problem? 

You thought you might forget about this whole thing but two weeks went by and the girl was still on your mind. 

You haven't seen her around Jackson much, just like before you met her. 

You knew she was at the cafe all day, while you were finally clear to go on patrol without being watched like a hawk. 

The only person you constantly saw was Jesse, you knew he would be a good friend and it seemed like you were getting closer too but you couldn't help but think about her even if you only spent a day and one night together, she wouldn't leave your thoughts.

Today was especially tough, you almost got jumped by a clicker because your thoughts drifted off to Ellie again, if it wasn't for your quick reaction, you would've died today. 

You don’t know what it was about her, you tried to convince yourself that she wasn't that special but you were only fooling yourself, you knew she was special the moment you walked into that cafe and made eye contact with her. 

You couldn't forget the way she made you feel. At the bonfire she made you feel safe and calm, like nothing could hurt you. She was able to make you forget all your worries, even for just a short time but no one has ever made you feel so carefree like she did that night. 

She gave you a taste of what it could be like if you were to have a chance with her and then she took it away again, just like that. 

-

Knocking back your fourth drink of the night, you motioned for the bartender to poor you another. 

After the past two weeks, you thought you deserved to treat yourself to some drinks, you were tense and frustrated and you wanted to loosen up, so you thought the bar was the perfect place for that. 

“I think you should take it easy.” Jesse said, as he took a seat next to you. 

“hello to you too.” you chuckled, as the bartender placed your drink in front of you. 

“seriously, you have patrol tomorrow morning.” he said, frowning at you.

“ah, come on, I'll be fine.” you said, waving him off as you looked around the room before you looked back at him “you should drink something with me.” 

He chuckled, thinking about your offer for a few seconds before he gave in, ordering himself a drink as well. 

“so.. what happened with you and Ellie?” he asked, looking at you in curiosity. 

“what do you mean?” you asked, acting like you didn't know what he was talking about. 

“come on y/n, don’t play stupid with me.” he said, giving you an annoyed look, he has been trying to find out what happened between you two for more than a week now. 

Sighing, you rolled your eyes before you explained to him how rude she was to you after the bonfire night but leaving out what happened at your house. You knew Ellie regretted having sex with you so you knew she would feel uncomfortable if anyone found out what happened between the two of you. 

“so, she just turned into an asshole?” he asked, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

“basically.” you shrugged. 

“that doesn't make any sense.” Jesse trailed off “you seemed to get along so well.” 

You shrugged, you didn't understand either, taking a sip of your drink, you decided to change the subject, you wanted to forget about her not talk and make yourself think even more about her. 

“hey, can I ask you something?” you asked. 

“sure.” 

“what happened with you and that girl?” 

“Dina?” he asked.

Nodding, you watched as his expression turned into a sad one.

“we were on and off all the time and then she found someone else.” he shrugged as he took a sip of his beer.

“oh..” you mumbled, that must've hurt, you couldn't even imagine what it’s like to watch someone you love fall for someone else. “I'm sorry about that.” 

“it’s fine, I'll get over it.” he shrugged, trying to act tough when you know he's hurting inside. 

“well, let’s get drunk and forget about everything.” you offered, grinning at him. 

He was about to decline your offer but then he saw Dina walking in with her new boyfriend and changed his mind “fuck it.” 

“you turned around to see what had changed his mind to find the pretty girl from the bonfire hand in hand with some guy you haven't seen before but she wasn't the only one who catched your eye. 

Ellie was here too, sitting at a table with Joel and Tommy, her arms were crossed over her chest and she didn't exactly look like she had a great time, turning her head she catched you staring at her. 

‘shit.’

You wanted to look away but you couldn't, not when she looked this good.

You expected her to roll her eyes at you before turning away but she didn't, instead she stared right back at you.

Her expression was unreadable, there was more than one emotion written on her face.

“if I didn't know any better, I'd say you are eye fucking each other.” Jesse said, pulling out of your thoughts as your eyes widened at his words, turning around to face him you noted the smirk on his face. 

“oh my- shut up.” you mumbled in embarrassment. 

“don’t think I haven't caught on to what happened.” he said, still smirking. 

Of course he knew what happened, he wasn't stupid, he saw you and Ellie leaving the party together and he saw her the next morning, still in the same clothes as the night before. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. 

“ugh, whatever.” you mumbled “clearly she isn't interested.” 

He chuckled, looking over your shoulder “are you sure about that? Because she won't stop looking your way.” he laughed.

“more like glaring, probably.” you said, rolling your eyes “can we talk about something else please?”

“yeah.” he chuckled, offering you your next drink that you gladly accepted.

-

Ellie was mad at herself and at you. 

She couldn't help but stare at you all night, how could you just sit there and act like nothing happened between the two of you. 

Of course you would run straight into Jesse’s arms after what happened.

She knew it was partly her fault, she avoided you but it still hurt to see you with him now. 

She was angry and bitter about this whole situation. 

“Ellie- you listenin’ kiddo?” Joel asked, waving his hand in front of her face snapping her out of her thoughts as she was sending glares your’s and Jesse’s way.

Hating how you were laughing at something Jesse said when you almost fell into him, trying to get off the barstool, making her feel angry at the way you were being too touchy with him.

“what?” she asked, looking back at Joel. 

“I asked if you're okay.” he explained, turning around to see what she was looking at. 

“yeah, I’m gonna go now.” she mumbled, getting up. 

“you sure you’re okay?” Joel asked, looking at her in concern. 

“I’m good, Joel.” she promised, giving him a small smile. 

“alright.” he said. 

“bye guys.” she muttered, giving one last look to Tommy and Joel before leaving the bar. 

Stepping outside, she leaned against the wall, enjoying the fresh air and the silence of the night, watching as the snow was falling softly. 

Winter in Jackson was beautiful but Ellie couldn't help but hate the coldness of it. 

The door slammed open, startling her as she pushed herself off the wall to see who it was only to find you stepping out, slurring out some words as you were trying to put your jacket on almost slipping on the icy stairs if it wasn't for Ellie reacting quickly enough, catching you before you could hit the ground. 

“oh- fuck..” you mumbled as you latched on to her arm trying to keep yourself steady. “I'm sorry.” you muttered when you saw who it was. 

She glared at you as she let go of you, rolling her eyes at you “you’re welcome.” she muttered before turning around to leave.

You stared at her before you decided to follow her, you wouldn't let her walk away without giving you an explanation as to why she was treating you like shit.

“hey!” you called out, trying to keep up with her. “wait! Ellie!” 

“what?” she exclaimed turning around suddenly causing you to almost bump in to her.

“wh-why are you being such an asshole?” you asked, staring at her, you noticed how red her cheeks were from the cold, her icy stare almost matched the cold weather “you sleep with me and then you treat me like shit?” you added. 

She looked into your eyes, glaring before she looked up, taking a deep breath. 

“just go home, y/n.” she mumbled, trying to stay calm. Seeing you with Jesse tonight made her feel angrier than she wanted to admit, she was jealous and talking to you while she was feeling this way wouldn't end well. She had a few drinks that night and she knew she would say something she doesn't mean and would later on regret it.

“n-no, not before you tell me what I did wrong.” you said, raising your brows at her as you waited for an explanation.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Ellie grumbled before she turned around to leave again. 

Scoffing, you grabbed her arm and turned her back before she could go. 

“don’t touch me, y/n!” she said angrily, struggling against her anger as she looked at you. 

Putting your hands up in surrender, you looked at her wide eyed, not expecting her to get angry at you like that. 

You heard the door of the bar being opened, laughter filled the silent streets outside as a group of guys stepped out on the porch to smoke. 

You turned your head to look at them, finding them staring at you two already, great, you had an audience now. 

“just stay away from me.” she said, not even feeling bad at the way your gaze saddened at her words instead she turned even angrier when she thought back to how you were being affectioned and touchy with Jesse.

“okay but.. can you at least tell me why?” 

She scoffed, already regretting her words before she even voiced them “because you’re a fucking slut.” she cursed at you.

Taken aback by her words, you stared at her as you took a step back, your furrowed expression turned into a hurt one. 

You could her someone gasp in the back along with whispers. 

“we fuck and then the next day you’re already running straight into Jesse’s arms, fucking him too I bet.” she scoffed. “because that’s what sluts do.” 

You began to breathe heavily, your vision blurred as angry tears began to fill your eyes, anger rushed through you as she continued throwing more insults at you, you raised your hand, wanting to slap her for degrading you this way but she catched your hand by your wrist, holding it tightly, she looked at you wide eyed before fury took over once again. 

“do that again I dare you.” she threatened before she dropped your hand “stay the hell away from me.” she snapped at you before turning around to leave.

You grasped your wrist with your other hand, looking after her as she left, you couldn't believe her, you couldn't believe this was the same person you met two weeks ago. 

You turned to look at the guys standing on the porch, embarrassed about having someone witnessed that. You expected them to look amused but instead they gave you a pitiful look before they went back inside again. 

You looked at the ground and scoffed, a tear ran down your face as you thought about her words. 

Shock and hurt filled you. 

Shaking your head you turned around to leave.

That’s it, you thought she might give you a chance but instead she made her hatred and disgust very clear to you. 

One thing was for sure, anything you thought could happen between the two of you disappeared in the matter of a few minutes. 

[rogue-durin-16]

UNSURPRISING

Summary: There were a few moments during Fred's friendship with Y/n's in which they were a bit too close to kissing. Then, there was that one time they did.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language maybe, murder

A/N: this one was not scheduled for tonight but I wanted to cheer @meph1stophelian up because she deserves it, so enjoy your dose of Fred fluff <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Okay, Y/n," Ginny grabbed a pastry from the platter which we had stolen from the kitchen and that now laid on a small coffee table in the middle of the Room of Requirement. "truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"I dare you to... Wait." She thought about it for a second before leaning on Luna to ask her something. "I dare you to kiss Fred."

"Uh-uh." Fred, who had just moved to the higher table where the drinks had been laid, was quick to respond, "Not happening." shortly after followed by me.

"I'm not doing that."

"You can't skip a dare!" Ron exclaimed outraged.

"I can if I'm over eight years old." I replied, leaning back on the couch with my arms crossed.

"What she said." Fred agreed, raising his glass at me before drinking.

"Since when do you two back out of a dare?" Ginny questioned with a frown.

"Since this girl here" he motioned at me "started dating Pucey."

"What?" Harry asked in shock. "Pucey? Pucey as in Adrian Pucey?"

"Yeah?" I replied.

"You and Pucey?" Hermione raised her brows and gave Ginny a confused look. "I don't quite see it."

"Oi, what's there to see? I'm the only one who has to see it, don't you think?" I responded, slightly annoyed. "And why is no one talking about this bloke's love life?" I pointed at Fred who now stood behind me. "He's dating that Hufflepuff girl too!"

He tsked his tongue. "Not anymore."

"That's... unsurprising." George commented.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred questioned suspicious, kicking my leg for me to move aside so he could sit.

His twin snorted. "You know what's supposed to mean." He took a sip from his drink before nodding at Ginny. "C'mon Gin, change the dare— for Pucey's sake." George scanned us both with analyzing eyes before adding, "we don't want Y/n to end up ditching his boyfriend for this twit, now do we?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"YEEEEH" I was already down on the arena, clapping, when Fred landed with a wide cocky grin on his face, his breathing ragged due to the match's intense last few minutes.

I had rushed down the moment the snitch was caught to be the first one to congratulate him, so I was quite breathless too.

"Did you see me up there? Saving the bloody match!" He exclaimed, tossing his broom and bat on the ground in order to catch me when I threw myself to him.

"You were brilliant oh my gosh!" I let out a surprised laugh. The match seemed pretty much lost until Fred's performance came into play. "Oi, don't let it go to your head!" I was quick to add, pulling away from his embrace.

"Y/n Y/l/n just said I'm brilliant," He stated, the grin not leaving his face. "it's definitely going to my head."

I groaned, letting my forehead fall against his chest. His heart was beating fast, but I blamed it on the adrenaline of the match.

But what was I supposed to blame on the way my own heartbeat picked up when his hand found the small of my back and casually pulled me a tad closer?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oi," I slid open the door's compartment and scanned it briefly before saying, "everything's full, do you mind—"

"Not at all." Fred rapidly answered, sitting up slightly but quickly returning to his laid back position after I had taken a seat by his side.

I had a brief exchange of words with George and Lee before silence fell upon us; it was quite unsual, yet understandable due to the exhaustion we had been put under during the last semester.

It was because of it that Lee fell asleep, shortly after followed by George. I took the chance to grab my book to avoid giving in to the sleep, though my reading was soon disturbed by Fred's foot tapping over the upholstery of the seat.

"What?" I questioned quietly, my brow quirked at him while my eyes peeked over the book.

"What are you reading?"

"Advanced Potion-Making— what do you want?"

"Rude." I rolled my eyes, making a smirk dance on his lips. He seemed to weigh what he was about to say. "I got you something for Christmas."

"Wait— you what?" He got up, ignoring my shock, and, stretching his hands to reach his bag, he pulled out a small package. "I— you—"

"Speechless, I see." He pointed out amused, handing me the package before plopping back down, his gaze trained on me. "C'mon, open it." His teeth trapped his lower lip in anticipation, and I felt how my blood started to pump violently through my veins before I unwrapped the present. "A little birdy told me you liked... What's it called? Chokers?" I could only nod, speechless at the delicate choker in my lap. "I mean, my hand would have been just as good but you can wear this one in public too."

My face flared up at his words and astonishment was replaced by the usual need to fuck that little bastard up. "I hate you."

"I'm kidding, love." He chuckled, tugging on his sleeves and nodding at the jewelry. "You like it?"

The softness in his gaze made my anger go away as I took another look at the choker. "I love it, but you didn't have to." I scrunched my nose. "it looks very—"

"If you say expensive I'll shove it up your arse so watch your tongue." He warned me, half jokingly and half serious.

"What a way of ruining a sweet gesture." I pointed out, feigning a pout.

"Don't worry, I'll make it sweet again, you'll see—" he pushed himself away from the wall and scooted closer to me, tending his palm. "Give it to me." I obeyed and shifted my position so I would have my back to him. His fingers moved my hair away before his hands carefully placed the strap of velvet around my throat and clasped it. "There." He whispered, putting my hair back in place.

I turned around again without any clue of what to tell him. "I-I'd have gotten you something—"

"Y/n, it's a gift, not a trade." He gave me a warm smile, one that anyone rarely got to see, and my face heated up once more. His eyes seemed to flicker to my lips just for an instant, but he soon averted them from me to check on our peers. "Don't tell them, I won't hear the end of it."

I too peeked at them before leaning in and placing a soft kiss on Fred's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Fred."

The little smile grew into a wide side grin while he casted his face down, fixing it on his hands. "Merry Christmas, Y/n."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was out after curfew, yes, but I wasn't doing anything bad, just visiting my friends in their common room; I only had to be careful and no one would notice me.

Or so I thought.

To my luck, while I was tiptoeing through one of the halls, none other than Fred Weasley bumped into me.

"Shit!" We both took a moment to observe one another. "Alright, sorry in advance." He apologised, taking a peek at the path he had taken before grabbing my hand and pulling me with him.

I didn't hesitate on running with me; I knew he had brought trouble directly to me, and if I didn't follow, I would get detention and, with Umbridge in control, I had to avoid that at all costs.

"Wait wait— Here!" He tapped what I assumed was a camouflaged door and pulled me inside before it could open completely.

We both reached for the door at the same time, shutting it as fast and quiet as possible and stepping back right in time to hear what I assumed was a part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.

Fred was so close that I could feel his heavy breath tickling my neck while we stumbled back into the pitch black darkness of the narrow passage.

"Well, that was close." I commented, trying to keep my pants at bay; it was the only sound heard —our pants.

His hands left my biceps to presumably fall limply on his sides, but he didn't step back to put some space between us. I couldn't see anything, but I still turned around and instantly knew his eyes were trying to find mines, just like my fingertips attempted to intertwin with his.

It was a bad idea, but no one had to know; the lack of light in the secret passage would prevent anyone to witness it, even us.

No one would see it, I thought, trailing my fingers up his arm until I reached his cheek.

His own hand made its way to my waist, giving it a squeeze and pulling me to him.

I pushed him away as soon as we heard Filch's cat miaowing at the hidden door, followed by the erratic running of the caretaker.

Fred grunted in frustration. "C'mon!" He rushed me, taking my hand once more and running down the ginnel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

We were running breathless, hands held, casting spells left and right.

'Don't stop moving' Arthur had said when the part of the castle we were defending fell into the Dementors' claws.

One of the Carrow apparated a few feet ahead of us, sending a Cruciatus in our direction even before we came to a halt in our running.

Fred raised his wand, quick as lightning, shielding us from the curse, and I didn't miss a beat before hexing the death eater, hitting her right in the chest.

Fred spun around to guard my back from another death eater that stood behind us while I, seeing that the Carrow sister attempted to get up, casted another stunning spell at her, only that this time it hit her shield.

Both Fred and I duelled the two Voldemort's acolytes until we managed to take them out almost simultaneously, yet in very different ways.

"STUPEFY!" Fred yelled out loud to enhance the spell's effect.

I did the same, knowing I needed that extra push to take Carrow out only that my spell was way more harmful. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Fred turned around, still gripping my hand, to see the death eater's corpse on the floor. "Fuck!" He exclaimed.

"Was that a good 'fuck' or a bad 'fuck'?" I inquired, adrenaline pumping through my veins when I turned to meet the redhead's eyes, sparkling with excitement.

"Definitely a good 'fuck'." We both let out a laugh as if I hadn't just murdered someone. "Kiss me." He demanded; fortunately, I was thinking that same thing, so my lips crashed against his in a rough kiss right after he had finished the sentence.

We both tried to pour into the kiss as much sentiment as possible to let the other know how much we had craved to do that for the last three years. Our hands and arms were wrapped around each other, pulling our bodies as close as possible in the now empty corridor as if the world was about to end; it most likely was.

"Being realistic," I began speaking against his lips, once he had pulled away only enough for us to breathe. "we might be dead by tomorrow," if the situation was a bit different, we would probably be crying, but our little victory had made euphoria flood our hearts. "so know that—"

"I love you too." He finished with a nod.

I nodded back, pecking his lips before untangling by limbs from his and pulling him with me in order to resume our jog away.

[bluejayblueskies]

Hello! I love your writing, the hand holding over the table was so much feelings <3 can I prompt 29. tickling the other one? No pressure :-)

touches prompt list

thank you for your patience with this anon! i offer you some scottish safehouse jonmartin fluff <3

.

It starts when Martin wraps his arms around Jon’s midsection while Jon is cooking, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of Jon’s sides, and Jon flinches so hard he drops the wooden spoon in the pot of red sauce.

“Oh, shit. S-sorry,” Martin says. He pulls his hands back quickly, but they touch Jon’s sides again as he retracts them. Jon can’t help the high, reedy sound that escapes him, and he feels his cheeks grow warm.

“It’s—fine.” Jon fishes the spoon out of the pot, wrinkling his nose at it before depositing it unceremoniously in the sink. “Just, um.” He debates the pros and cons of being honest before mumbling, “I’m rather … ticklish.”

“Oh.” Martin’s forehead creases, like he can’t quite decide what he’s supposed to do with that information. “On your sides?”

“Y-yes. And, um.” Jon looks down at the ground, then at a random point over Martin’s shoulder. “A-and … everywhere?”

Martin raises an eyebrow. “Everywhere?” he echoes.

“Well.” Jon frowns. “N-not everywhere, I suppose. My nose is, er, relatively safe, a-and my fingers.” He taps his fingers on his thighs a few times. “I just … have really sensitive skin. A-and I don’t…”

He trails off. It feels too vulnerable, suddenly, to say that he’s really not touched often by gentle hands, so every feather-light brush of skin against his is like a shock to his system. “I don’t usually have to worry about it,” he says instead, which seems vague enough. He thinks Martin understands what he’s really saying, though, because a moment later, a hand is on his (touching, Jon notes, only the fingers) and a kiss is pressed gently to the tip of his nose.

“Well,” Martin says softly. “I can be more careful from now on if you’d like.”

Jon flushes. “Ah. It’s not…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, then settles for candor over subtlety. “It’s not a bad feeling.”

“Oh?”

Jon’s flush deepens, and he squeezes his eyes shut. “I … I like it when you touch me. A-and I don’t … want you to stop.”

Martin sounds amused—and slightly flustered—when he says, “I can touch you without tickling you, Jon.”

“I know,” Jon says, a bit petulantly. He takes a breath. “But I … I want you to.”

Martin lets out a small huff of laughter. “You want me to tickle you? Just … whenever?”

“If you don’t want to,” Jon says sullenly, “we don’t have to do it.”

“No, I—I do want to, I just…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand once. “I want to make sure that I’m understanding you correctly.” Then, he brushes a finger gently along the inside of Jon’s wrist, and a small shudder runs through Jon’s body.

“Yes, that’s…” Jon trails off and simply nods. He hesitates, then reaches forward and takes Martin’s other hand in his so they’re clasped together, palm to palm. “I … I trust you, Martin. I—I know that you’d stop, if I asked, and … it’s nice. To be vulnerable like this.” Jon pinches his lips together for a moment. “Does—does that make any sense at all?”

“Yeah,” Martin says gently. “It does.” Then, quieter: “Thank you, Jon.”

Jon nods. The back of his throat is tight with unnamed emotions, and he swallows a few times in an attempt to clear them away. “A-and besides, I … I think this could be fun.”

Martin’s smile is gently teasing. “Fun? In this cottage? Surely not.”

“Ha ha.”

Martin’s smile widens, and he presses another quick kiss to Jon’s nose. “Okay, then. Let’s do it.” He rocks back and forth on his heels a few times, as if considering, before adding, “And you can try to tickle me back if you’d like.”

Jon raises an eyebrow. “Try to?”

Martin’s smile turns devious at the edges, and he doesn’t clarify. Instead, he squeezes Jon’s hands once more before releasing them. “This’ll be fun! I’m going to go start the laundry—let me know if you need any help with dinner?”

“Yes, of course.”

Jon watches Martin depart from the kitchen with a frown before returning to the pot and retrieving a new spoon from the drawer.

Try to? What did he mean by that?

Jon finds his answer a few days later when he casually brushes his fingers against Martin’s sides, just above his waist, and Martin doesn’t even twitch. A light touch to the soles of his feet elicits the same response, and a kiss on his neck results in only a smile and a kiss in return.

Martin is apparently, frustratingly, not ticklish.

This, naturally, escalates the game to outlandish proportions.

Jon will admit—albeit with some reluctance—that he is, in fact, a very competitive person. Board game nights and trivia always took on much higher stakes than strictly necessary, his research always had to be more thorough and comprehensive than that of his coworkers in the research department, and he felt a thrill of satisfaction every time he figured out the answer to a problem before anyone else. He just … doesn’t like to lose.

And Jon is currently losing against Martin. Quite badly, in fact. It only takes a few days of indignity and injustice for Jon to decide that enough is enough, and he is going to find Martin’s weakness and finally get ahead.

Every light kiss is accompanied by Jon’s fingers brushing against Martin’s stomach or sides. Every time Jon curls around Martin in bed, he’s sure to let his breath tickle the back of Martin’s neck and to trail his fingers up Martin’s spine. And every time Martin stubbornly refuses to react to Jon’s touch, Jon tries a new tactic, because something has to work. Martin can’t just be … immune. That would be cosmically unfair.

Because Martin takes every opportunity to tickle Jon in return. And the number of times that Jon has shrieked and dissolved into helpless giggles when Martin finds another spot on him that is, apparently, very ticklish is getting to be truly embarrassing.

Not that Jon is … complaining, necessarily. He likes the game—likes being touched by Martin in ways that continue to surprise him, without any expectation of something more. Martin stays clear of areas that make Jon uncomfortable, takes his hands away the moment Jon tells him to stop (usually in a fit of breathless giggles), and always entertains Jon’s attempts to tickle him in return, fruitless as they may be. He would just like it more if he weren’t losing quite so badly at it.

Not that he thinks Martin minds, judging by the fond smile that seems to be permanently etched onto his face lately. That same smile turns teasing, and a little bit smug, every time Jon fails to elicit the same breathless giggles out of Martin. Jon wishes the sight didn’t inspire such affection within him because he wants to be irritated by it.

His scowl never has any heat behind it.

A few days later, Jon finds himself ignoring the documentary they’ve put on the television in favor of skimming his fingers up and down Martin’s outer thigh. When Martin doesn’t move an inch, he grows bolder, then bolder still, until he finds himself on Martin’s lap, hands pressed firmly against his chest and lips trailing kisses down his jaw. He places a kiss on a spot that he knows is particularly ticklish on him, and when Martin still remains impassive, a noise of frustration escapes his throat.

Martin makes an amused sound. “Sorry,” he says in a distinctly unapologetic tone of voice. “I can see that you’re trying very hard.”

He sounds a bit breathless, Jon thinks with a hint of pride, even as he recognizes that that’s probably less a product of the tickling than it is of the fact that Jon is currently straddling him and kissing him quite thoroughly. Which is just ridiculous, in Jon’s opinion. Everyone is ticklish on their neck. It’s just human nature.

“I am,” Jon says primly, lips brushing against the underside of Martin’s jaw. Martin doesn’t so much as flinch. Bastard. “It’s rather rude that my efforts are going unappreciated.”

“Oh, I’m appreciating them. Very much. Feel free to continue, please.”

Jon pulls back and affixes Martin with the driest look he can muster. “I see you’re not sympathetic to my cause.”

Martin’s mouth falls into that same frustratingly smug smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” His hands, resting on Jon’s waist, skim upward suddenly and send a violent shudder through Jon’s body.

“This,” Jon says breathlessly, “is unfair. Cruel and unusual punishment. Torture of the highest order.”

“So you’re giving up, then?” Martin says sweetly. He punctuates his words with a quick pinch just above Jon’s waist that has him squeaking.

Jon scowls and pinches Martin’s waist in return, to no avail. “Don’t be absurd.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

Martin shrugs. “All right.” Then, he lifts Jon from his lap like he’s made of papier-mâché, settles him back down on the couch next to him, and proceeds to attack his sides and stomach and arms until Jon is wriggling and tears are budding at the corners of his eyes and his stomach is sore from laughing.

It's wonderful.

(And maybe Jon’s just a little bit afraid that, if he finally finds a way to make Martin jump beneath his fingers, the game will end and Martin will cease trying to find new and wonderful ways to touch him gently, to handle him like he’s something tender, to take him apart and hold him close in the same breath.

Not afraid enough to stop trying to find Martin’s weak spot. But the thought is there all the same.)

In the end, none of Jon’s agonizing and strategizing and consideration of variables makes much of a difference. Because when he finally manages to tickle Martin, it happens quite by accident.

They’ve been in the safehouse for nearly a month now, and the tickling has become part of the daily routine. Jon thinks, therefore, that he should have come to expect it by now, but Martin never quite does the same thing day-to-day. Sometimes, his hands on Jon’s waist in the morning as Jon cooks breakfast are firm and comforting, eliciting nothing from Jon but a pleased little hum and a soft good morning. Other times, his fingers drum a light staccato rhythm against the small rolls of fat that have begun to accumulate on Jon’s hips, and Jon wriggles, making Martin laugh and insist that I’m hardly even doing anything, Jon.

Jon had never really considered touch as something that could contain so much love and affection within it. He’s never been more glad to be proven wrong.

The morning it happens is quiet and cloudy. The sunlight through the window is tinged with gray, bringing with it a cold that cuts through the downy duvet they have. Jon rolls over in bed with a groan. He presses himself firmly against Martin’s back, draping one arm across Martin’s chest and shifting so his legs are flush with Martin’s in an effort to combine their body heat and stave off the chill. His foot, socked and a good deal colder than the rest of his body, brushes against the back of Martin’s knee.

Martin twitches, his leg jerking away from Jon’s involuntarily. With sleep still clinging tightly to him, it takes Jon a moment to realize what’s happened and a few moments more to identify what, exactly, he had done to warrant the reaction.

Experimentally, he shifts and touches his foot to the back of Martin’s knee again, feather-light and fleeting. And when Martin makes a small sound in the back of his throat, froggy with sleep, and twitches away again, Jon grins. He buries his face in the back of Martin’s neck to hide it. Then—because he’s a bit giddy and just can’t help himself—he rests his foot against the back of Martin’s knee and wiggles his toes.

Martin’s leg curls up against his chest, effectively locking away his figurative Achille’s heel, and he mumbles something incoherent in his sleep that sounds equal parts groggy and irritated.

Jon’s smile turns soft, and he presses a kiss to Martin’s shoulder before wrapping his arms securely around him. The warmth radiating from Martin is enough to lull him back to sleep—but not before he tucks this new, incredibly valuable piece of information away in the back of his mind for safekeeping.

Jon has, in his memory, never been described as a particularly patient person. He always skips the boring parts of books and movies, preferring something that can actually capture his attention and hold it firm. He used to send daily emails to colleagues until they sent him the research or information or supplies he needed. He never lets soups simmer as long as the recipes tell him to, and he firmly believes that it’s all right to set the oven temperature higher than recommended in order to cut down the cooking or baking time required.

Therefore, he thinks it’s rather impressive that he manages to avoid showing his hand until a full day later, when he walks into the kitchen in the morning to see Martin standing by the counter, his back to him as he fiddles with the teabags and mugs. The weather is still brisk, but there’s a fire going in the fireplace that makes the temperature in the safehouse tolerable. As such, Martin is clad in a (rather adorable) mixture of bright purple fuzzy socks, a thick woolen jumper, and boxer shorts with little dachshunds on them.

And, well. His knees are right there.

It has a certain kind of symmetry to it—Jon wrapping his arms around Martin’s waist, earning himself a hum and a gentle good morning, and nuzzling into the space between Martin’s shoulder blades. He stays there for a moment, relaxing into the warmth and softness of the jumper, before slowly and deliberately lifting his foot and brushing it against the back of Martin’s left knee. Except, instead of dropping a wooden spoon into a pot of red sauce, Martin startles so badly that the mug slips from his hand, shattering rather spectacularly on the floor beside them.

Jon freezes, staring down at the puddle of half-steeped tea as it slowly creeps toward his feet. “… Ah.”

Martin mutters a curse under his breath and extracts himself from Jon’s now-loose embrace, bending down to begin picking up the largest of the shards. Jon stands there for a moment, feeling a strange mix of sheepishness and pride bloom in his chest, before going to retrieve the broom.

The mess is gone in a matter of minutes. Martin throws the last shard into the bin, dusts his hands off to ensure that they’re free of ceramic, then turns to face Jon with a sigh that straddles the border between exasperated and affectionate. “While I was holding tea?” he says, clearly trying to fight back a smile.

“I didn’t know you’d drop it!” Jon says defensively, gesturing widely with the broom he’s still holding.

“Well—I didn’t mean to. You just … caught me off guard.”

Jon can’t help the smile that spreads across his face at that. “Did I? How terribly rude of me.”

“Yes, yes, congratulations. You’ve found my weakness.” Martin’s smile is dripping with fondness. “I’m still winning, you know.”

“For now.” Jon adjusts his grip on the broom, the plastic bristles at the perfect height for his purposes.

“There’s not a chance that—hey!”

Martin backs up against the counter as Jon lunges forward with the broom, trying to angle it so it reaches behind Martin’s legs. It’s deceptively difficult. Martin gives Jon a comically exaggerated look of betrayal. “I expose my weaknesses to you, and this is what I get. Treachery and deceit.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Jon adjusts his grip on the broom, but before he can make another move, Martin leans forward and presses a quick, lingering kiss to his lips. Jon makes a noise of surprise, then one of contentment. He finds his eyes fluttering shut despite himself, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders, and he thinks he’d rather like to keep kissing Martin for the rest of the morning, and perhaps the early afternoon as well.

Which is why it’s rather unfair that when Martin pulls away, Jon opens his eyes to find that Martin’s sidestepped him and Jon has lost all tactical advantage.

“That’s cheating!” Jon says indignantly.

“That’s taking advantage of all the resources at my disposal,” Martin counters. It’s infuriating, and Jon loves him so very, very much.

What commences after that is a rather short, altogether too lively game of cat and mouse that mostly involves Jon running after Martin with a broom and Martin somehow managing to stay frustratingly out of reach. Martin’s laughter is lighter and more joyful than Jon thinks he’s ever heard it before, and Jon feels a childlike happiness blossoming in his chest as he nearly trips over the corner of a rug and just manages to catch himself on the back of the couch. Therefore, he can’t bring himself to feel too disappointed when Martin somehow manages to extract the broom from his hands and corner him on the couch. His fingers find the sensitive spots on Jon’s body as Jon giggles breathlessly and swats half-heartedly at Martin’s hands.

“All right, all right,” he manages to say between laughs. “You’ve made your point. I give up.”

Martin stills his hands, letting them rest gently on Jon’s shoulders with his thumbs brushing against Jon’s collarbones. He’s hovering over Jon, knees bracketing Jon’s thighs as the arm of the couch digs into the middle of Jon’s back. It’s a position that makes Jon feel small and enclosed, but also warm and happy and safe, because … it’s Martin. Martin, who only touches Jon as much as he wants him to and stops the moment it becomes too much. Martin, who apologized profusely the first time he accidentally rolled on top of Jon at night but who, upon Jon’s insistence that it was actually quite nice, has now taken to acting like Jon’s own very warm and very lovely weighted blanket. Martin, who looks at a body that has seen so many unkind hands and unspeakable horrors and presses kisses to the scars that lie upon it and reminds Jon with every touch what it is like to feel comfortable in his own skin.

“I love you,” Jon whispers, because he feels it so acutely in this moment that he thinks he might burst.

“I love you too,” Martin murmurs, rubbing his thumbs in careful circles on Jon’s collarbones so as to soothe rather than to tickle. The care behind that touch—the difference in intent from just a few moments prior—probably shouldn’t make Jon’s chest tighten and his stomach grow hollow and fluttering, but it does.

Martin presses a kiss to Jon’s forehead, soft and lingering and gentle, before pulling back and saying, “Tea?”

Jon can’t help leaning in to give Martin a chaste kiss on the nose, then another one quickly on the lips. The small noise that Martin makes with each touch is something that Jon boxes away and treasures forever. “Yes,” he says with a quiet smile. “That would be lovely.”

[ghostdrew22]

Shut Up || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No Pairing: Draco Malfoy x gryffindor!fem!reader Warnings: implications of sex, alcohol and drugs, asshole!hermione and swearing

Summary: Not a lot of Y/N’s fellow Gryffindor’s approve of her relationship with the Slytherin Prince, despite the fact that he makes you immeasurably happy and his own friends accept you.

WORDS : 1788

Lyric snippets I used are from “shut up” by Ariana Grande and they’re not in chronological order.

<~>

“My presence sweet and my aura bright,”

“Y/N, you’re so lovable and that begs the question; what are you doing with this insufferable git?” Blaise perks up with a smirk as he sits across from Draco and Y/N in the Great Hall for breakfast.

Beside him Pansy Parkinson nudges his ribs softly and gives you a bright smile, “Don’t listen to him. Draco’s okay once you get to know him.”
 “Okay?” Draco scoffs out as he chokes on a bite of his apple- making you and Pansy erupt in a fit of giggles. “8 years of friendship and that’s all I get?”

“Be grateful, I wanted to say less intolerable.”

“You love me and you know it.” He grumbles as he moves back to eating his apple- his hand resting faintly on the small of your back as you turn to look up at him.

“It’s very hard not to.” You say with a smile as you drop a kiss on his cheek- making him grin widely and turn rapidly to catch your lips against his own. Your kiss earns a grin from Blaise and a groan from Pansy- even though they’re both very happy that their friend is in love.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve the sun herself.” He whispers once your lips finally part and you smile goofily at his words.

“Stop.” You giggle out and he shakes his head before whispering that he never will, and allowing you to go back to eating.

You don’t miss the awkward stares being thrown toward you from the Gryffindor table but you ignore them- choosing instead to focus on the butterflies erupting in your stomach and the smiles of glee that your new beau’s friends are blinding you with from across the Slytherin table.

~~~

“diamonds good for my appetite.”

You and Draco are spending the Summer together at the Malfoy Manor since your parents are hardly ever around with work anyway and Narcissa practically begged you to come.

“Happy birthday Y/N!” Mrs Malfoy exclaims as she hands you a small box, the size of a journal, with black wrapping and a green ribbon. You and Draco are sitting on a couch that’s on side of the Malfoy’s living room, and his parents are sat on another couch on the opposite side of the room. Narcissa and Draco are beaming and Lucius is looking rather indifferent from his spot beside his wife.

“Thank you so much…” You respond with a faltering smile as you turn beside you to catch your boyfriend’s eyes in confusion, “But my birthday was months ago.”

“We know darling but we couldn’t owl the gift to you because it’s quite valuable, and we wanted to see your face when you opened it.”

“You really didn’t have to get me anyt-“

“Nonsense Y/N, we wanted to.”

“That’s really kind, thank you so much.” You smile shyly up at them and Narcissa laughs lightly.

“Now open it! We’re itching to see your reaction.”

You do as the Malfoy matriarch says and unwrap the gift, finding a black, velvet jewellery case beneath the wrapping. A gasp escapes your lips when you open the case and find a diamond necklace encased inside.

“This is too mu-“ You start but Narcissa is already laughing and shaking her head.

“Don’t even try to talk us out of giving it to you.”

“Are you sure?” You ask as your eyes scan over the glistening jewels that surround the silver chain.

“Draco, put it on her.”  Lucius suddenly interjects- shocking you all.

Draco does as his father tells him to and hooks the necklace around your neck before softly dropping the diamonds just below your collarbone. Lucius gets up from the couch, grabs a nearby small mirror, and walks toward you and Draco.

“Aren’t you sure?” He asks as he puts the mirror in front of you and allows you to see it on yourself.

Another gasp escapes your lips as you trail your fingers around the shining material, the light from one of the windows hitting it just right. “I am.” You finally breathe out with a smile, “Thank you so much, it’s exquisite.”

“Oh darling it was no trouble, I wasn’t going to wear it.” Narcissa says as she also stands up and comes to meet her husband in front of you- intertwining their fingers together- “Besides, it’s only right you start dressing like a Malfoy now.” She winks at you before pulling her husband out of the room and leaving you to be with Draco alone.

You try to resist the urge to smile like an idiot at her comment about you becoming a Malfoy.

“That’s coming out of my inheritance so I hope you like it.” Draco says with a smirk as he eyes you.

“Dra-“

“But it’s okay if you don’t, we can pick something else out if you like.” He smiles softly at you and you feel your entire insides melt at his words- the diamonds are exquisite, you can’t lie, but they mean way less than Draco’s determination to satisfy you to your heart’s content.

You smile back at him in awe, “I love it, it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure?” He raises his eyebrows.

You bring your lips up to his and cup his cheek softly before parting away from him with a smile, “Does that answer your question?”

~~~

“I vibrate high and my circle lit.”

Slytherins are nothing like Gryffindors when it comes to partying, they’re a completely different league. Draco was initially scared to bring you along to one of his house exclusive parties because he was worried that you wouldn’t enjoy them, or you wouldn’t like him afterwards, but Pansy was having none of it and insisted that you come along with the three of them and get, as she worded it, absolutely wrecked.

And absolutely wrecked do you get.

At first you’re a bit hesitant- still processing the shock of finding 7th years snorting white lines off Salazar’s ancient desk- but Draco eases you into it and ensures you that you don’t need to try anything that  you don’t want to. So you start slow, taking your time with a glass of firewhiskey while the boy beside you tries his best to outdrink Blaise and keep his attention on you- he’s definitely not beating Blaise though, not when all he can think about is dragging you off into a corner and-

“Hey Y/N, have you ever gotten high?” Pansy interrupts his train of thought and you nod your head at her question.

Usually you just get drunk at parties but if Neville’s around he usually doesn’t mind sharing a joint with you. “Yes, a few times.”

“Want to smoke now?” She raises her eyebrows at you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to love- don’t feel pressured.” Draco says in your ear and you smile, turning your face to give him a quick kiss.

“I’m not drunk anyway so let’s do it.”

Soon enough you are as high as a bloody kite, hopping up and down to some muggle song they’re blasting on the speakers, one hand in the air and another tightly gripping the arm that Draco has wrapped around your waist from behind, trying to sing along with Pansy. The vibes in the Slytherin common room are nothing like you’d expected them to be. You’d anticipated unnecessarily expensive alcohol, boring music, snooty glances being thrown your way and absolutely no dancing but it’s nothing like that, instead there’s people bouncing off the walls, cheap alcohol everywhere, incredible muggle music surrounding you and everyone has been immensely inviting toward you the whole night- to the point where they’ve invited you to come back.

The Slytherins are nothing like Gryffindors when it comes to partying, and although a few of them are a bit too hardcore for you to keep up with, Draco and his friends are the perfect people to party with. When they all let their guards down, have a few drinks and hear the right song playing they have the most excitement you’d ever seen in your life. Partying with them is an incredible sensation- they’re exciting and fun and friendly, and they honestly make you feel breathless.

Draco in particular is letting loose a side of him that you’ve never seen before- laughing it up with everyone that approaches you, excitedly dragging you around the room to see all the different aspects of a Slytherin party and dancing, he hasn’t stopped dancing with you all night.

“You give off good vibrations!” Pansy yells over the music and Blaise nods in agreement.

“I didn’t think anyone would ever be able to keep up with the three of us but Draco picked you well.” Blaise adds and you playfully scoff.

“If anything, I picked him.”

“And how lucky was I at that?” He laughs and looks down at you to kiss you.

“Very lucky.” You mumble with a goofy smile once he pulls away and as soon as your eyes lock you both know- it’s time to go. You barely have time to say goodbye to Blaise and Pansy before he’s dragging you up to his prefect dorm and slamming the door shut behind you both.

~~~

“How you been spending your time? How you be using your tongue? You be so worried ‘bout mine, can’t even get yourself none.”

“So maybe you should shut up.”

“Y/N, I’ll never understand why you’re going out with this foul, loathsome gi-“

“Hermione, when was the last time you had a good shag?” You interrupt the Gryffindor- having had enough of her rude insults barricading your boyfriend. Beside you Draco chokes on the bottle of water he was drinking and widens his eyes at you.

“What?” Hermione asks, clearly flustered, as her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“A good shag. When was the last time you were fucked senseless?” You ask again and inch close enough for your lips to be right by her ear, “Because I can tell you when last I was… Last night, prefect dorm, two hours of heavenly bliss.”

“Y/N!” She exclaims as she pulls away from you in shock and embarrassment, “That’s wildly inappropriate.”

“Indeed, it is.” You offer a smile, “So I suggest you stop talking so much shit with that tongue of yours before I tell you what Draco likes to do to me with his.”

Hermione nods- still in shock- and quickly turns to leave. You turn to face your boyfriend- who has the biggest smile of admiration on his face- with a smirk and he chuckles once Hermione is out of earshot. “Bloody hell, I don’t deserve you.”

“Not at all.” You smirk and pull a few feet away from him so that you can slowly open the first two buttons of your blouse in the empty hallway, “But maybe you can try to.”


“My room, now.”

<~>

i hate that little scene with lucius but i literally can’t write it out because i can’t unthink the idea- that probably sounds ridiculous.

Anyway, this is just a small, cute, IMPULSIVE idea I got one day after listening to ‘shut up’ by Ariana Grande. Some soft fluff for the Gryffindors.

anyway, love you all

jean <3

[imkylotrash]

What Goes Around

Pairing: Hardin Scott x reader

Request: Could I please request an imagine/fic with Hardin Scott x Reader and basically Hardin of course has his bad boy reputation but this intrigues the reader. She is his complete opposite and finds his rudeness quite funny. Hardin is a little too mean to her one time and makes her cry. It doesn’t occur to Hardin that she likes him and by that point he feels like he has lost his chance to get to know her because of his.. ‘wicked’ charm? You can choose the ending. Anonymous

Tagging: @bitchwhytho​ @music-of-melody​​

He’s watching you give your coffee order and it makes you smile. Everywhere you go, you seem to run into each other. At first, you’d just steal glances then go your separate ways but then it turned into “hello”. He made the first move and asked if you should have your coffee together one day. Ever since than you’d made polite conversation when you ran into each other and you had to admit that something intrigued you about the tattooed boy who refused to care about anyone other than himself. You couldn’t exactly relate to his perspective on life but you wanted to know more, to understand the boy who considered the world a cruel place rather than an opportunity to happy days. 

“This seat taken?” you ask standing with a hot cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. The “Red Queen” series have become something of an obsession for you after finishing the first book. You never thought you’d stray from the classics but lately, YA books had been catching your eye. 

“I see you’re still on the third book,” he smiles and in the same moment letting you know how he feels about YA books. You don’t take it too hard considering he’s not even willing to admit his love for books for anyone other than you. 

“I’m taking my time and enjoying the words.” You have a tendency to get too invested and rush through a book to get to the ending meaning you miss a lot of the little Easter eggs along the way. You’re trying to change that. 

“Hey, no judgement from me.” He’s lying but it’s a cute lie so you’ll allow it. Once you’ve finished your coffee, you stand up grabbing your things. You have exactly ten minutes before your class start but you like to get there early in case you need to do some last-minute preparations. Hardin remains seated and you remain neutral in regards to his lack of motivation when it comes to college. 

I’ll be going classes now. Want to come?” Okay, maybe not that neutral. He shakes his head smiling and you know what that means. It takes three days before you run into him again. This time at the library where you reach for the same book which sounds completely absurd and something that would only happen in one of your books. It’s a cute moment though. 

“I guess great minds think alike,” you say and he scoffs.

“Please. You wish you were as clever as me.” He offers you the book about to sit down when he spots some of his friends outside. You know he’s been a little vague about who you are considering just how different you are to them and frankly, you don’t mind. Hardin is an interesting character because there’s more to him than just the casual alcoholic teen while the people he surrounds himself with at those frat parties really don’t have much else going on for them. You went one time and you’d never been more bored in your life. 

“I should go,” he says Within minutes he’s out the door walking in the direction away from his “friends”. After that you don’t spot him for a while or maybe he’s avoiding you to avoid the questions his friends will inevitable have. Either way, you find yourself missing his sarcastic comments. You hadn’t realised just how much of an impression he’d made on you until he wasn’t around. But he comes back to you eventually. 

“Hey,” he says when he spots you at the coffee house. 

“I thought you’d moved city,” you tease pushing out the chair across from you with your foot. He sits down sliding a book across the table. 

“As an apology,” he grins. You turn the book over to see the cover and you can’t help but smile. 

“You remembered.” One of the first conversations between you and Hardin had been about ecocriticism and a book called “The Road” that you’d borrowed from the library more times than you could count. You’d discussed the topic in class where your professor had recommended this book and now Hardin had gotten it for you. 

“You wouldn’t shut up about the book for at least five hours. How could I not?” He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal but it still means a lot to you. Now you could read the book whenever you felt like it. And he’d gotten the original cover rather than the movie cover. It would’ve been the perfect gift if his friends hadn’t shown up and ruined everything. You see the change in him the second they enter the coffee house. 

“Hardin, who’s this?” Jace asks with hungry eyes making you feel incredibly uncomfortable. 

“Just a friend,” Hardin offers not wanting to give any information to these people. 

“Sure, friend. Do you feel the same way, honey?” Jace asks making the rest of the guys snicker. Before you have a chance to answer, Hardin opens his mouth and ruins everything. 

“Yes, friend. I mean look at her. Not exactly my type, is it? I mean, could it get anymore vanilla?” This earns him a high five from one of the guys but it cracks your heart. You’ve never thought much about your close or the way you looked because you thought the inside counted a hell of a lot more than the outside. But hearing that the idea of being with you seemed so ludicrous hurt more than you liked to admit. 

“I should get going.” You don’t look at Hardin when you leave and you don’t bring the book with you. If this is how he thinks of you then you don’t want anything from him. And it’s not even the fact that he considers you a friend. If that’s all it was, you’d be fine. It’s how easy it was for him to degrade you that really hurt. You tell yourself you won’t cry but it’s a lost battle as you head home. Unfortunately, you don’t reach home before he catches up to you.

“Leave me alone, Hardin,” you say picking up the pace. You’re determined to reach your apartment without stopping but of course, you can’t help yourself when it’s Hardin.

“Are you mad at me?” 

“Mad at you? Of course, I’m mad at you!” you yell not caring who hears you at this point.

“You of all people should realise what it’s like to be judged on the way you look. I like the way I look and I absolutely refuse to let you make me feel bad about it!” You don’t care if he said it because of his friends or not, it’s the fact that it came to him so easily. That means he’s thought it before regardless of the situation at the coffee house. 

“It was a joke!” he yells back opting for defensive rather than just apologise. You’re not doing this. You turn around and this time he doesn’t follow you. It’s weeks before you dare return to the coffee house. You don’t want to meet him again. Instead you dive head first into the universe of Jane Austen thinking he could’ve been your Mr. Darcy with his sour attitude and soft spot for you but it didn’t turn out that way. But your need for good coffee eventually win over your fear of seeing him again. The plan is in, order, pay and leave. It’s just not that simple once you’re inside. 

“You forgot this.” He places “The Road” in front of you as you’re waiting for your coffee. You can’t believe he’s held onto to it since that day. You figured he would’ve just chucked it in the bin. 

“I’m really sorry for what I said. It was rude and thoughtless. You deserve better.” It’s a good apology but you can’t help but think what the insult will be the next time his friends catch you together. 

“You’re right. I deserve better.” You get your coffee and head outside. 

“Throw me a bone here. I said I was sorry.” Of course, Hardin follows you outside refusing to let this go. 

“Hardin, you’re only sorry because I called you out on it. You don’t actually care that it hurt me.” He’s not the first guy who thought he could walk all over you and he won’t be the last but you refuse to accept that treatment. You deserve a lot better than that. 

“I’m sorry because it hurt you. I didn’t think you’d read so much into it,” he defends himself making it clear to you that it’s a pointless discussion. He’s not going to understand why what he said was hurtful despite his own appearance and the comments he’s received. 

“How could I not? I’m sitting there thinking we might have a shot and then you pull the rug out from under me. I’m not playing these games with you.” 

“What?” You don’t bother repeating yourself instead using this moment of shock to hurry away. You manage to avoid him for another week before he corners you on campus. 

“You can’t just throw something like that out in the world and then leave. It’s been going round and round in my head.” He has a hand on each side of you leaning against the wall. It’s effective for keeping you in place and distracting you from why you’re actually upset with him. 

“I never thought you’d like me like that. Shit, I would’ve done things very differently if I ever thought I had a chance.” This time you’re the one in shock. You didn’t think he’d put so much thought into what you said last time. 

“What would you have done differently?” Despite vowing to yourself that you’re done with Hardin, you find yourself curious once again. This bad boy persona with a loving man hidden inside seems like an impossible paradox.

“I would’ve kept you well clear of those idiots from the frat house. Bought you flowers maybe. Taken you to dinner. Bought you a hell of lot more books.” You don’t want to forgive him but it’s hard to think when he’s this close to you. 

“I can start now if you’d like.” He places a hand on your cheek and his touch gives you chills. You inhale sharply telling yourself not to give into him but your body has already thrown in the white towel. He leans down stopping inches from your lips. 

“I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.” Instead of answering, you lean up closing the gap between you. It’s the first kiss but definitely not the last. 

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

My complicated opinion on Keith Kogane

Keith Kogane is definitely one of the more popular characters in the VLD fandom. People love brooding emo bad boys.

My feelings on Keith are... complicated. I definitely don’t hate him. I have a lot of problems with the character but I don’t think I could ever bring myself to actually hate him. Mainly because I kinda relate to him. We both have problems controlling our emotions, interacting with people, and making friends.

And we both have trouble believing there are people who truly have our best interests at heart and won’t abandon us because we’re a burden.

What I do hate is the way his character was written and the way it negatively impacted the characters around him.

There are definitely a lot of factors that contributed to VLD ending up the way it did. But to me, Keith and the writers insistence on pushing him to the forefront was the poison that killed the show.

Ok, before we get into this whole rant I feel like I should talk about the things I do like about Keith.

I like the premise of Keith’s character. He’s half Galra and never really fit in on Earth. He didn’t act like the other “normal” kids so kids made fun of him and adults didn’t want to deal with him. So in order to protect himself from the pain of rejection he would put up a tough angry facade and push people away and reject them before they could reject him.

This is something that really resonates with me personally having grown up neurodivergent. It’s awful growing up in a world that isn’t made for people like you and not knowing how to interact with or connect with your peers. Especially when you don’t know why you’re like that.

You learn to avoid social interaction because it always ends up negative. You put up walls because you don’t feel like anybody understands you or what you’re going through.

I know the writers probably didn’t intend to code Keith as neurodivergent. They just wanted Keith to be a hothead with abandonment issues, but nonetheless, this interpretation means a lot to me.

I also really like his relationship with Shiro. Keith is so used to being left behind and abandoned that when he meets someone like Shiro who’s patient and genuinely cares it’s new and strange. He’s so ready for Shiro to abandon him, even telling Shiro to send him back to the home, but Shiro refuses to leave him and tells Keith ethat he’s never going to give up on him.

It’s also interesting to see how their relationship develops over time. It’s clear Keith trusts Shiro, but you can tell that that fear of abandonment is still there deep down. In S2, Keith tells Shiro that he’s like a brother to him, and then in season 6, he takes the extra step and tells Shiro that he IS his brother and that he loves him. And for someone like Keith, telling their friend they love them is a big scary thing.

And also it’s just great to see a platonic “I love you,” especially between two guys. Don’t be afraid to tell your bros you love them!!!

Now let’s talk about the stuff I didn’t like.

Keith doesn’t have much going for him in terms of personality. He’s just sorta brooding and serious all the time. He does make jokes occasionally but it’s rare. The writers were more focused on making him cool and badass rather than fun.

I always loved the idea of Keith as a cocky carefree asshole who doesn’t give a shit about rules/laws and is kinda rude/aggressive but has a heart of gold deep down and would do anything for the people he cares about. (Just like a cat.)

I would also make him more alien esc. In terms of design I like the idea of Keith having red eyes with narrow pupils and fangs. And also just small things like the way he walks and holds himself. He growls and bears his teeth when he’s angry, his hair puffs up when scared, he’s fast and agile, disappearing and reappearing without making much noise, small things.

Then you have his race and sexuality. I have no doubt in my mind that Keith was intended to be a straight white dude. A lot of people see him as gay and Asian but there’s no evidence for this in canon. Acxa was originally intended to be his love interest and his race was never mentioned in canon. His name isn’t even Kogane in canon. (And the race of the voice actor doesn’t equal the race of the character. If that was the case Shiro, Hunk, and Lance would be white.)

They should’ve totally made Keith Japanese like he was in the original. It would’ve been so easy! Just canonize Kogane as his last name and have the book say he’s half Japanese half Galra. They could’ve also done what they did with Shiro and keep his og GoLion name. Just have him be Akira Kogane. Definitely cooler than “Keith.”

And as for his sexuality, I definitely think they should’ve had Keith be gay. But well get to that Later...

I also don’t like how they handled the whole Krolia thing. Not only was it crazy rushed, but it completely goes against the shows theme of found family.

Keith’s arc should’ve been about overcoming his abandonment issues and learning to accept the paladins as family. But instead they just get rid of the abandonment issues by just giving him his mom back.

I know a lot of people love Krolia but I don’t feel like she should’ve been introduced in anything other than flashbacks. Because Keith’s mom isn’t really that important. The show is about found family and friendship, not blood relation.

You can definitely have Keith learn about his mom and his family, but I feel like giving him his mom back was too much.

Personally, I always headcanoned that Kolivan was Keith’s grandfather or just a close friend of Krolia’s, and when Keith showed up at the Blade’s base Kolivan recognized the blade as his Krolia’s. Keith could learn about his mom through Kolivan telling him about her, how she was a great person and warrior who died fighting to make the universe a safer place for her son.

Another thing I didn’t like was the whole Keith leaving the team for the Blades thing. I know why he did it, he felt like the team was gonna reject him, he wanted to be more useful, and wanted to learn about his family, but I feel like you could’ve touched on all that without having him abandon his team.

One of the biggest problems with the show is that they did a bad job at establishing the paladins as friends, they feel like coworkers more than anything, and I feel like Keith being absent for two seasons contributed to that.

And his absence is hardly addressed. The team forms Voltron perfectly without him and no one ever says they miss him. Keith doesn’t even seem like he missed them after being gone for two years.

And a lot of the weight was taken out of that Keith v Kuron fight by the fact that Keith and Kuron hardly interacted.

That whole thing amounted to four things, Keith meeting Krolia (which I don’t think should’ve happened), them finding the colony (which was a dumb plot I don’t think should’ve happened), Keith aging up two years (which was weird and unnecessary), and Keith meeting Kosmo (which is... complicated).

I don’t think this plot was necessary. Keith should’ve stayed with his team.

Then you have his relationship with Lance. I know people are very sensitive about this topic. People have very strong opinions about whether or not Keith and Lance were intended to be romantically coded.

Personally, I do like Klance but I don’t believe they were romantically coded. I think if you want them to get together some things would have to go differently.

For example, the bonding moment. In canon, Lance tells Keith, “we make a good team.” I don’t see this as referring to him and Keith. I think he was talking about the whole team. If you want it to be about the two of them, I feel like it should be Lance telling Keith something like, “ya know, you’re not so bad after all,” and then Keith smiles and responds, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

Another example could be the scene where Lance comes to Keith with his insecurities. (Whether it’s as a leader or a friend.) This scene was weird in canon, Lance comes to Keith for advice and Keith basically tells him to just stop thinking about it.

I would prefer if Lance brought up to Keith how he doesn’t feel like he’s good enough or that he doesn’t have, “a thing,” and Keith is completely dumbfounded like, “what are you even talking about?” He goes on about all the good shit about Lance. Talks about how Blue chose him, how he’s a great shot, how he’s good at dealing with people, meanwhile Lance is standing there in shock as Keith says all these nice things about him.

Over all you would just have to develop their relationship more. More meaningful interactions. And if you want the relationship to be romantic you would have to establish that early on. Establish that one or both has romantic feelings for the other in like S1/S2 because if you wait too long it’s gonna feel forced/out of no where.

And then... you have the Black Paladin arc... I’m gonna be real with y’all, this is the arc that killed the show for me, for a few reasons.

One, even ignoring the whole quintessence bond thing, it makes no sense for Keith to be the bp. He doesn’t fit the role. I adore Shiro but choosing Keith as his successor was a dumb move. I get that he saw potential in Keith but they’re are fighting a war, there’s no room for favoritism.

Shiro should’ve chosen Allura as his successor. Not only does she have actual leadership experience, but you would only have one paladin in a new Lion instead of three.

If a lifeguard breaks his leg and can’t work, he should choose an experienced swimmers to take his place, not his little bro that’s still in water wings in the hopes that it’ll teach him to swim.

Two, Keith being the bp doesn’t help his arc. Keith’s arc is about overcoming his abandonment issues and learning to be a team player, he doesn’t need to be the leader for that.

VLD should’ve been about the paladins growing into the best versions of themselves they could be. Their development shown by unlocking new abilities in their respective lions, new forms for their bayards, and new Voltron bayard power ups. They shouldn’t have to change lions and themselves.

Keith and Red have a strong bond and work great together. Keith and Red are both temperamental, unpredictable, and have issues with trust. Keith having to fight to get Red to trust and open up to him mirrors how others have to fight to earn Keith’s trust and get him to let down his walls.

It would’ve been interesting to see them grow together. Keith has no emotional connection with Black.

We never even get to see them bond. Keith just suddenly becomes the “perfect” bp/leader because he got over his mommy issues

Three, it’s a MASSIVE disservice to Shiro’s character. Shiro put all the work in earning his position as the bp, he literally fits fought Zarkon on the astral plane to earn her trust, yet Keith is the true bp? What?

It sucks. Sendak told Shiro that a monster like him could never be a paladin and the writers went and proved him right. Hell Shiro didn’t even get to kill Sendak, Keith got that too.

And don’t tell me, “but he got the Atlas!” REALLY!? A massive Deus ex machina that required absolutely no effort from him to acquire!? Filled with a bunch of rando background characters no one gives a shit about!? You’re totally right, that 100% makes up for it.

I could go on and on about how the treatment of Shiro in this show (and fandom) is blatantly ableist but that’s a rant for another time.

It sucks. I want to like Keith! He had the potential to be an amazing character but the writers just kept on trying to turn him into something he wasn’t and it ruined him for me.

They kept trying to turn Keith into the main character and ignored that ALL the paladins are the main characters. It’s an ensemble cast! You don’t have to have everything come back to one guy.

[sub-danny]

I really need Niki to be put in his place, it is a Drabble so something small, some remark of his hitting where it shouldn’t.

The boy has to learn to keep his pretty mouth shout

I'm glad sub!Niki is finally getting appreciated! And how we all agree on how much of a brat he is.

I hope you enjoy this drabble I made V 😌, I've got a few more requests I'll get to over the week including another sub!Niki one so keep checking my account or the tag #subdanielbrühl to see more content!

I'd also like to thank my amazing beta reader @thesuitkovian for their help editing this! 😊💞

Warnings: Sub!Niki, f!reader, femdom, oral (f receiving), slapping, brat, slight praising,

The sound of the repetitive knocking upon wood as Niki’s fingers drummed on the table had your fists clenching the cutlery, the grooves of its pattern imprint in your hand as you look up from your plate.

Niki sits opposite you, his plate already cleaned and now he leans his face on his hand, letting out a huff of annoyance as he watches your plate, seeing how you slowly eat your food. His fingers drumming is a clear indication that he is bored out of his mind as he waits for you to finish.

When he notices you have stopped eating however his eyes flicker to your own making him frown.

“What?” he grunts.

“Is there a problem Niki, you seem to be bored.” you hiss back out at him, taking on the same annoyed tone he had given to you.

“Of course I’m bored! You’ve been eating for the past half an hour, could you be any slower?”

You glare at him for his rudeness, then slam your cutlery down onto the table, your appetite fading because of his attitude.

“We aren’t all racers like you Niki,” you glower at him, but Niki just rolls his eyes as he finally leans back in the chair and crosses his arms.

“That much is obvious. It seems I’m quicker than you with everything, including eating!”

You could feel yourself quiver with anger at his words, but then as you thought them over a spark lit in your mind. It burned brightly as ideas weave themselves together and Niki’s eyes narrowed at you as if he could see the way your eyes were suddenly alight with excitement.

“Yes, you do seem to be quite quick with that mouth don’t you, always coming up with remarks, annoying little comebacks. You’ve never known how to shut it up do you?”

For a minute it might have seemed as if he wouldn’t respond. His eyes widened with surprise from your comment and he sucks his cheeks to swallow back the shock, to think over the words, yet as typical Niki, he manages to find his voice again.

“Why would I want to shut up, I know how much you love my voice.”

You stand up from your place at the table, and slowly without taking your eyes off Niki you start to walk towards him. Niki watches with hesitance, like a rat caught in the gaze of a cat.

“Well you’re not wrong darling, I do love listening to your voice, all the precious little sounds you make,” you purr as you go to stand in front of Niki. You raise your fingers and place them on Niki’s chin and instantly he raises his face to stare back at you, unwilling to lose this staring contest. However, he almost finches when you move your fingers past his chin to trace his jawline, and then linger over his neck, pressing down slightly on the pulse that has started to beat rapidly against the smooth skin of his neck.

Ultimately, the intense eye contact between the two of you is broken when both your hands suddenly grasp the collar of his racing suit, the flaps which hadn’t been zipped up. He flinches and his eyes break from yours to glance down at the hands upon him with anticipation.

“But I know so many other things you could do with that mouth that doesn’t involve talking.”

Before he knows it you have stepped back and with all the strength you can muster you pull Niki to his feet. He sways unbalanced but manages to catch himself before he collapses back down, though he relies on the strength of your hands holding his suit up to continue to keep him steady.

“Y-y/n?” he manages to stutter out, all his previous attitude seemingly was starting to fade which makes you throw your head back slightly as you let out a light laugh.

“You’re beginning to sound better already.”

You don’t let him have another chance to speak as you let go of one side of the jacket and still holding the other you swiftly turn on your heel and drag Niki off to the bedroom.

You kick the door open and pull Niki in and instantly you walk straight towards an armchair you have in the bedroom, but before you decide to sit down, you turn back to Niki, raising your other hand back to the front of his jacket, this time however grabbing the zipper.

With one quick motion you tug the zipper down to his abdomen and push the front of it off his shoulders so that while the suit is still on him, the tight, white shirt he wore underneath is clear to see. You watch the way his chest heaves before you, his mouth open slightly as he watches your every movement, trying to guess what you should do next.

His tongue flickers out to lick his lips and he opens his mouth further to speak again but you don’t give him the chance. Your hands grasp the curly mop of hair upon his head and pull his lips down onto yours. You instantly pull his top lip into your mouth, biting it slightly and then moving your lips upon it. You let your tongue slip into his mouth and poke his own which started to eagerly follow your own movements as if dancing together in a ballroom of saliva.

A jolt of desire echoes through you as you feel Niki moan into the kiss, the vibrations of it seemingly working its way down your spine. Still holding onto his hair, your lips ravaging his, you take a step back and slowly sit down upon the seat and it makes Niki have to bend down and eventually get on his knees just to still be able to touch your lips.

When you eventually push him off you, he falls back on his ass, having to use his hands to catch him before his whole back collides with the floor. He’s breathing heavier now, his chest heaving in and out with every deep breath and he looked up at you with a sense of wonderment.

You tilt your head, observing his appearance then smiling wickedly at him.

“Why don’t you show me exactly what that mouth is good for.”

His mind becomes blank for a second, his eyes lingering on you till they slowly slip down to the crotch of your jeans that is now on display to him. With sudden vigour he shuffles forward on his knees, slotting his body between your open legs and bringing his hands up to the button of your jeans. As fast as he can he tugs the jeans and your underwear down, not wanting to waste a second of your time. He is able to pull them down to your ankles and when he looks back up he sees how wet your cunt has become for him.

“Shit y/n I-” he begins to say but suddenly his face is thrown to the side, instantly his right cheek stinging with sharp pain.

You lower your hand as Niki turns back to face you, the left side of his face now a bright red as the blood quickly flows to it. His eyes brim with tight tears from the sharp pain but his jaw hangs slack, his tongue quickly flicking across his overbite as he feels within his suit his cock twitch.

“I don’t want to hear another word leave your mouth, Niki. You only get to use your mouth for one thing now, and you better prove you are as good with it as you are with being an annoying brat.”

Another little moan leaves his lips as you order him about, and it means his arousal picked up more, but being the good obedient boy that you wanted him to be, he shuffles closer to you, placing his hands on your thighs to keep you held open as he firstly bumps his nose into your cunt, pressing it through the slit to smell your sweet smell and then finally he starts to kitty lick where he knows your clit is.

It makes a few sparks of pleasure run through you feeling the way his tongue lightly licks upon it, but you need so much more, and you know he could deliver so much more.

Your fingers find his hair again and feeling the soft curls getting wrapped in your fingers again, you push Niki even further into your cunt, to the point where he almost can’t breathe.

He got the message however and chooses to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking it with all the strength he can muster. Each little suction makes you feel like rocking your hips yet you hold back. You didn’t want Niki to start feeling like he has some power over you. You are the one in charge.

With your hand in his hair, you slowly push his face down further until his mouth is by your entrance. You can feel the way his overbite presses into it unlike the bottom part of his mouth, but you didn’t have long to focus on the sensation when you felt the warmth of his tongue eagerly press into you.

The sensation of his tongue pushing into you is maddening, the heat and wetness of it have your walls fluttering around him, trying to pull him in further. Obeying its command he pushes his tongue in as far as he can into you, thrusting in and out of you as fast as he can, excitement flooding him as he feels the way your thighs start to strain against his hands and how small moans leave your lips.

He starts to switch between focusing on your clit, lapping and sucking at it to thrusting his tongue greedily into you, moaning as he lets your juices coat it and he’s eager to taste you more. By now he is rock hard in his suit and he subtly shifts his body so that your leg fits between his knelt ones. Slowly he starts to thrust his hips into your calf, desperate for any slight friction on his aching erection.

You of course noticed his hard erection pressing against your leg, making you chuckle at how desperate he is for you. His cheeks heat up from embarrassment knowing he has been found out but he still desperately delves his tongue into you and lets his hips rut up against you.

“I’ll tell you what Niki,” you begin to say, and he stops his movements into your entrance for a moment to listen to your command. “If you make me cum in the next three minutes, I’ll let you cum inside of me.”

His breath hitches at the thought and with greed and urgency he buries his face back into your heat. You can hear how wet you became and the sounds of his lips smacking with your wetness, the slurping as he tried to drink it all in. Now you don’t hold back and start to move your hips upon his face, your grip in his hair pushing him in further as you didn’t bother to hide your moans and pleasure anymore.

“Fuck Niki, you’re such a good boy when you want to be. Isn’t this such a better use of your mouth? Better than all those annoying remarks you make, you-you, shit, you are so much better being underneath me, being forced to shut up and remember who is in charge of you.”

Your words cause Niki to groan into your cunt which makes your walls vibrate. As the time ticks down he pushes into you further and finally, his tongue presses inside you far enough that he hits that sweet spongy section of skin within you, making your hips quiver upon his face as you finally come.

You hold his face tightly to you as you ride it out, feeling his tongue attempt to lick up everything. You can feel the way his lips mouth onto your entrance, hearing him nonstop gulping as he takes it all in, and he lets out a little whimper as you finally pull his face away from you.

Your slickness is dripping all down his chin, his lips are red and puffy from the pressure upon them and he breathes heavily, gasping for air that he had been deprived of for the past five minutes.

“Such a good boy,” you whisper, taking your hand to trail his chin, picking up a part of your wetness and then placing it upon his lips, pushing it in and instantly he sucks your finger.

When you pull it out you smile down at him, pleased by him.

“Go lie down on the bed Niki, and don’t you dare say anything.”

He obeys your command.

[dynyamight]

here’s a concept: deku, a farmer boy goes out to the Wild West and encounters a cowboy kacchan. deku teaches cowboy kacchan to plant corn and take care of chickens. they then become close. after that they marry and are known at the “maize buckaroo duo.”

(this is so random hshshshsh. but the idea just sparked outta nowhere ;33)

i offer you, farmer!deku x cowboy!bkg you give concept. i create fanfic. ;33 i luv this idea & ilysm

—

When Midoriya registers the fast, loud gallops outside, hitting and snapping down on the ground, he ceases his movement, before smiling hard.

The Monday morning has just started, and already there’s excitement in his chest. Those familiar sounds gave him the absolute flutters.

However, that excitement drops. Daisy huffs, back kicking at the milk bucket in an annoyed fit. Midoriya hurriedly picks it up, before all their shared, hard efforts were to go down the hay. Literally.

“Sorry, sorry!” Midoriya urges the cow, quickly smacking his wet hands on the folded towel on his knee. Then, resting a short calm palm on her snout, he whispers reassuringly, “You did amazing, today. Let’s get you back on the field.”

After setting the bucket aside, Midoriya takes the rope around Daisy in one hand, and lifts open the gate with the other. Together, they slowly make their way out of the stables, more or less. Daisy steps on Midoriya’s heels, hurrying him up.

However, stepping outside, Midoriya already knows to turn to his left, instead of his right at the gated grass field. From the sounds he heard inside, he bets on seeing Dynamite, first.

And, sure enough, turning around the corner of the stables, the proudful stallion meets his eyes, neighing a loud greeting over his way. Midoriya halts Daisy and offers a small wave back.

There’s a small jolt from Dynamite, before he starts walking, at a quick pace over towards Midoriya. Finally, that’s when Midoriya sees Bakugou, riding on the back of the horse, the finest, leather saddle equipped.

Midoriya shakes his head, smiling up. “Surprising to see you, so soon. It’s not even sunrise, Kacchan.”

“How fucking rude,” Bakugou clicks his tongue, before stopping Dynamite’s steps with a small pull. He tips his black, cowboy hat down, though barely. “Not even a damn ‘morning’ my way.”

“You’re never one for pleasantries, anyway.” Midoriya teases, pointing at his hat. “You didn’t do a full tip, you know.”

“Tch, you ain’t special.” Bakugou huffs, “Be grateful.”

Taking a few steps forward, Midoriya pats the side of Dynamite’s face. “Good morning, boy! How are you, on this fine early day?” He holds in the laugh, glancing at the scowl Bakugou sends his way.

Dynamite doesn’t give any cues of delight. But, by the way Midoriya feels the stallion lower his head, and press firmly against his hand, it’s not too far-fetched to assume he loves the touch.

On the other hand, Bakugou swats at Midoriya, face twisted in disgust. “Gross! I don’t want that fucking creature’s juices all over him.”

Behind Midoriya, Daisy stomps on the ground. ‘The field, remember?’ Midoriya imagines her quip. And, from the wagging of her tail, she’s losing her patience. Quickly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou sneers aloud, speaking directly at Daisy, “Say whatever you want. But, I ain’t wanting your spoiled cheese on my damn horse.”

“That’s not what she’s upset about.” Midoriya deadpans. “And, what? Can’t handle milk, out of all things?”

“Milk that came straight out of her tit.”

“Where else would it come from? Trees?”

“Whatever, I just don’t want that shit on my horse, for fuck’s sake.”

Though, they couldn’t argue anymore about it. With a strong force, Daisy begins to pull Midoriya away, forgoing staying another second away from her beloved grass.

Fortunately, for Midoriya’s heart, Bakugou cues Dynamite to follow, trailing right next to them. “Damn, she reminds me of my hag. So fucking dramatic.”

“Your hag?” Midoriya questions, tossing a curious head over. “Is she your dog?” He guesses.

“My mom.” Bakugou corrects, nonchalantly.

Midoriya supposes the open expression of shock wasn’t concealed well, because Bakugou lets out a laugh, turning away with a fist to his mouth. “You’re such a mama’s boy.” He snickers. It leaves Midoriya red in the face.

It’s just he would never call his mother anything, but an absolute blessing. He loves her, dearly.

The moment they step onto the wide, open area of the field, Daisy tosses her head, wanting the rope around her neck off. Hushing her quiet and still, Midoriya loosens off the knot, allowing the loop to widen, and finally, pulling it over her head, free.

As Daisy trots away, passing through the sheep and goats, Midoriya’s surprised to see Bakugou pulling himself off Dynamite. Landing smoothly on his feet, leather boots shiny with clean spurs, Bakugou fixes his hat, showcasing more of his face.

His red meets green. “Nice farm you got building.” He compliments. “An improvement from before.”

Midoriya nudges him, with a dull elbow jab. “Stop, It looks the same.”

“That ain’t true.” Bakugou firmly states. “Two months ago, this place had nothing.”

“Well, it’s still not enough to open a public business.” Midoriya sighs, readjusting the straps of his brown overalls. ”I might have to pull out another loan, in order to afford some harvest equipment for my corn.”

“Tch, that’s why you should join the rodeos.” Bakugou insists, crossing his arms to his chest. “It’s the easiest way to make money, here. Good money.”

Midoriya looks back at Bakugou, unimpressed. “Says the state champion.”

Dynamite snorts, conveniently in tune to Midoriya’s mock. It causes a slight reddening in Bakugou’s face. He quickly turns back to his horse, munching on the grass. “Shut it.”

“Anyways, I’ll find a way. Rodeo, or not.” Midoriya continues, yawning in between his words.

“Geez, where’s your damn etiquette.”

“Left it back home. With all my sins and exes.” Midoriya teases, outright. And, despite the smack over his head hurting, Midoriya can’t help, but laugh. “I’m serious!”

“You’re so annoying.” Bakugou grumbles, digging one of his spurs on the ground. “Bringing up stupid shit.”

Midoriya shrugs, still rubbing the back of head. “I promise you, I was a lady killer, where I’m from.”

“Killing those poor, innocent ladies with your bad breath.”

Immediately, Midoriya raises a hand over his mouth, puffing out an air. Though, all he can smell really, is Daisy.

God, did that mean his breath smells like Daisy? The cow?

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Gullible Deku.” He simply states. “Your breath s’fine.”

Midoriya groans, and he tries to smack Bakugou back over the head. Though, Bakugou dodges his hand easily, leaning away.

“Making fun of a farmer on his own bought land, is an insult to his pride.” Midoriya huffs, taking back his hand.

“What are you going to do about it?” Bakugou mocks, a grin forming against his lips. “Make me work? Not a chance.”

With a lightbulb feeling running through his mind, Midoriya absolutely loves the off handed suggestion. “Actually, yes! You can help me feed the chickens!”

Turning his heels quickly, Midoriya smiles at the absolute panic in Bakugou’s voice. “Hah? What the— No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are!” Midoriya sings aloud, taking quick steps towards the gate. “C’mon, hurry up, now! Leave Dynamite out on the grass!” He calls out, as he opens the gates, and goes into a full sprint out.

By the time he reaches the stables, goes to his feeding cabinet, shelves crowded with plastic containers and bags of nutrients for his livestock and crops, and grabs onto the chicken feed, Bakugou has begrudgingly made his way inside.

“It smells.” Bakugou complains.

“Suck it up.” Midoriya laughs, before taking a plastic bowl off the shelves and setting it down on the counter. He pours the feed inside. “I bet the rodeos smell just as bad.”

“They don’t.”

“Well, you’re being paid to say that.”

Bakugou walks over to him, standing by his side. He leans on the counter, as Midoriya lifts the feed bag back into the cabinet. “If they did, I wouldn’t do them.” Bakugou states, narrowing his eyes. “Simple as that.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Before Bakugou can insist otherwise, Midoriya pushes the bowl into his hands. He holds back a laugh, when Bakugou almost drops it completely. “Now, let’s head to the coop, shall we?”

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou grimaces. “S’too fucking early for this.”

“Hey, you’re the one who showed up.” Midoriya reminds him, as they walk to the back of the stables, where the clucks of the chickens resound louder. “Which, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the sudden visit? Forgot to buy eggs, from yesterday's pick up?”

“Does it matter?” Bakugou questions, instead.

That takes Midoriya aback. “I mean, not really. But, we never meet on the weekdays.” He admits softly. He takes a moment away, to crack open at the tall, wooden gate at the end of the hall.

The chickens weren’t too active, thankfully. Several of them are still sitting perched and hidden inside the coop. Otherwise, only a few were already walking around outside the coop, clucking aimlessly.

Midoriya feels Bakugou lean close to him. When he looks, he notices a chicken had passed by Bakugou’s boots, with no pay to mind. However, Bakugou was visibly losing his mind.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared.” Midoriya smiles.

Bakugou scowls, glaring right down at him. “They got bacteria. Sick motherfuckers.”

For a cowboy, Bakugou has a keen distaste for getting unnecessarily dirty. It never fails to surprise Midoriya. “Well, just wash your clothes when you get back home.”

“I got other shit to do after, you know.” Bakugou growls.

“Again,” Midoriya sighs, “You’re the one who chose to be here. I’m simply utilizing you.”

As Midoriya leads Bakugou over to the coop, he grumbles under his breath. “Gonna have to pull another loan, if you want me working for your ass.”

Rolling his eyes, he ignores the silly comment, and instead gestures at Bakugou to start throwing the feed at the nearby chickens, surrounding the coop. When he stares back, confused, Midoriya remembers the guy’s not a farmer in the slightest. “Start throwing the feed.”

Bakugou hurriedly starts tossing small amounts. “I knew that. Thought you were gonna say something else.”

It’s hard to imagine what else an open hand in air would mean, but nevertheless Midoriya doesn’t argue. The chickens awake are already bustling over, surrounding the dropped feed in seconds.

Taking a handful from the bowl, Midoriya kneels down, going close to the small crowd of chickens. He notices some of them quickly waddle over to him, instead of feed dropped on the ground. The few that come to him peck at his hand, and it floods warmth to Midoriya’s heart.

“They prefer off the hand, huh.” Bakugou comments above him.

“I would like to think that they like me, but sure.” In seconds, the feed’s all gone, and the chickens wait around him for more.

“You should kneel down, too.” Midoriya offers gently to Bakugou, making sure his voice doesn’t startle the creatures. “Feed them off your hand.”

There’s an obvious hesitation, before Bakugou gets low, kneeling next to Midoriya.

One of the chickens tries to reach into the bowl in hands, in which he pulls it away quickly. “I’m getting fucking attacked already.”

“They’re eager.” Midoriya insists.

Dipping his hand into the bowl, Bakugou raises a handful of his own. He whips his head to Midoriya, glaring. “If my hand bleeds, I demand a lawyer to prosecute you.”

They don’t even hurt that bad. Though, telling Bakugou that would probably have him second guess everything. Hence, Midoriya shakes his head. “You won’t.”

Within a few seconds of only impatient clucking surrounding them, Bakugou finally puts his hand out. In seconds, the chickens start to peck at his hand, picking up all the feed quickly.

Midoriya stares at Bakugou. He’s cursing them out, demanding them to stop pecking so hard, for fuck’s sake. And, despite the apparent discomfort from the first handful, Bakugou goes for another handful, offering his hand once more.

Again, the cussing ensues, but it’s still all Bakugou’s free will. He could have stopped at the first hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he’s still kneeling next to Midoriya, feeding these silly, rambunctious chickens.

When Bakugou definitely had better things to do.

“Why did you show up?” Midoriya asks once more, standing up. The chickens have already departed, as Bakugou had tossed the rest of the feed from the bowl, out in the open. “You only buy my products on Sunday’s.”

“Why do you keep asking.” Bakugou reflects back, opening the wooden gate open for Midoriya.

Midoriya steps in front of him, back inside the stables. Once inside, hearing the wooden gate close, he turns around, facing him. “You know, I’m not letting you off, without hearing what’s on your mind.” He softly smiles.

Bakugou stares back at him. And, for an odd moment, his eyes scan all over his face, jittering, until they cease. “You’re making this a big deal, Deku. Just wanted to check up on the farm.”

Ah, that does make sense. “Oh my— Then, why didn’t you say that earlier!" Midoriya laughs.

Bakugou shrugs. “Again, it’s not a big deal. Now, where’s the damn sink?”

Midoriya leads them back to the entrance of the stables, where the sink was, alongside various cleaning supplies perched on shelves. They wash their hands, in silence.

They don’t say much either, when they head back to the grass field, to pick up Dynamite. Though, Midoriya doesn’t mind the silence. Bakugou has a limit to his social battery, and Midoriya has grown to know when it’s time to give him his quiet and peace.

After Bakugou sits back up on Dynamite, and they walk back to the open road, around the corner of the stables, he slightly pulls the reins, causing the stallion to come to a stop. It causes Midoriya to look up, wondering if the cowboy forgot something, back in the stables.

Instead, there’s a slight flush in his cheeks. He coughs loudly, clearing nothing in his throat. “There’s a rodeo this Friday.”

Midoriya waits for the rest, but instead Bakugou says nothing else. “Oh, uh, okay? Will you be participating?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou simply utters.

Again, nothing else is said. “Well, I wish you the best of luck, then.” Midoriya offers, despite the confusion in his mind.

“Are you—” Bakugou stops, inaudibly grumbling under his breath. “I mean, the rodeo ain’t too far from here.”

“Oh!” Midoriya’s genuinely surprised, “Who would have thought? That’s a shocker.”

“Yeah. You could go, even.”

“I’m not joining rodeos. No matter how many times you demand.” Midoriya laughs.

“No, to watch.” Bakugou corrects, though the moment he slips the words, it suddenly causes his entire face to go red. “Fuck, I mean, you could watch. Other riders, and competitors, or whatever the fuck.”

Midoriya can’t seem to understand where Bakugou’s coming from. This cowboy wants him, a new residential farmer, to watch a rodeo. A rodeo, which he has never seen in his entire life.

Though, if Bakugou’s asking, Midoriya’s heart will always simply agree. “I’ll go watch, then.” He reassures him, “And, I guess I’ll cheer you on, if you’re any good.”

Bakugou’s face calms, though there’s still a stiffness in his shoulders. “Cool.”

Midoriya thinks he wants to say something more, but instead Bakugou brings his thighs closer to Dynamite, squeezing him slightly. Instantly, Dynamite starts trouting off.

Before he can call out, Bakugou looks back at him. “Starts at 7 in the afternoon! Don’t be fucking late!”

And, just with a small kick, Dynamite starts racing off on the road, Bakugou leaving Midoriya only with his thoughts.

There’s not a lot of information about the rodeo, though Midoriya knows he will most definitely ask around for the rest of the details. Essentially, it’s a nearby rodeo, that starts at 7PM. Surely, there are others in town that know where exactly is the event.

Midoriya can’t help, but drift his focus away from the rodeo, and back to Bakugou’s distant figure. Against the morning sunrise, he looks so cool.

But, a farmer like him, attracted to a cowboy like Bakugou, is so embarrassing.

[animeyanderelover]

Hii 💖Can you do Minato with prompt 84?

Seems to not fit him at first glance, but he is a dangerous cookie after all. I got some inspiration from a post from @kyoties. It's inspired from this one Sakura x Yandere!Minato comic. Also, Minato is very manipulative and cunning in here. I just felt in the mood for some angsty stuff.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, obsessiveness, controlling behavior, manipulation, bribing, blackmailing, blood, killing

Prompt 84: “I’m not the most violent person, but I’m willing to change that if it means having you.”

It's not like you weren't used to seeing blood, you were a shinobi after all and had seen some crazy shit after all. There had even been this one time where you had witnessed a man bombing himself for the sake of not getting caught. People were all deep down a bit crazy, it wasn't anything new to you. Everyone had a darker side somewhere lurking in them. In the end it all depended on how good someone could control it. A good self-control was the essence to many things, if not to all. You could achieve about anything with it because in the end cold-hearted cruelty was always superior to hot-blooded violence. It sharpened the mind, made you think before acting and allowed you to fool others, manipulating them into acting like you wished. It was a simple fact you had seen very often before. No one was really a good person, everyone was able to do brutal things, horrible things.

So why? Why was your heart in so much pain right now? Hadn't you been prepared for a day where someone you thought you were close with would show his real face? Hadn't you always reminded yourself that everyone had a different and cold side to them, including you? It had after all always been basic knowledge for you. Thinking deeper about it, maybe you weren't in so much pain right now because you had not seen it coming. Maybe it was just that seeing even him being like this as well had just extinguished a small flame of hope in you which he had mangaged to lit in you. This stupid thought that maybe there were people in this world who weren't like this. Who weren't two-faced. But you had been tricked by him, the person you had even thought to have fallen in love with. Now you weren't so sure anymore if the man, tainted in blood was really the same you had always felt your heart fluttering around.

"Who...who are you?", you managed to croak out, feeling like you were about to faint here and then. So many fights, so many battles, so much blood. It had of course always affected you, but never ike this. You were achingly aware, too aware, of everything right now. The warm and sticky feeling of blood all over you, the wind causing you to shiver, the shadows the corpses were throwing on the ground and his presence, feeling more terrifying than anything you had ever sensed before. It felt like all warmth had been abandoned from him, someone you had sometimes compared to as sunshine. But know you had a hard time believing that this man was the same at who's back you were currently staring with quievering eyes, having troubles breathing properly. Who was this?

Upon hearing your voice, Minato seemed to come back to his senses, turning slowly around to look you in your eyes. It was the first time since his sudden arrival that you were finally facing him. His clothes were stained with red liquid, his face spattered with it as well. It looked pretty bad even though you doubted any of this blood belonged to him. No, all of it belonged to the men who were now laying lifelessly on the ground, all the blood creating a huge puddle in which center you two were standing. It made you feel nauseous, the intense stench of it making bile raise up your throat, your stomach feeling like a hungry rat was greedily biting it's way outside.

But this wasn't what mae you break out in cold sweat, leading your whole body to shake uncontrollably and heart pounding with ony pure fear in your heart. No, it was this look he had in his eyes. You remembered that his eyes had always reminded you of an ocean. They were deep and yet possessed this certain sparkle in them, something that reminded you that he was alive. But right now there was nothing. They were completely empty, the color in them seeming much more pale and less powerful in comparison to how you remembered them. Even the eyes of the now dead people surrounding you appeared more lively, fear, desperation and horror visible in them. They were all dead, but looked more alive than Minato in that moment.

"What are you talking about? It's me. Minato." You suppressed the urge to shake your head, eyes staring even more horrified at him after hearing his voice. Nothing, not a single emotion in them. It was just as cold and empty as his eyes. By now he had shifted his complete attention to you, eyes being, despite any sign of emotion, intense in it's own way. You felt like the coldness in him was starting to seep in the air around him, you suddenly starting to freeze, chills dancing up and down your body. "But this isn't the important question now." He stepped closer, towering over your sitting form. "What are you doing here? If I remember right, you were supposed to take a break from missions due to your injuries. So why is it that I find you miles away from the village, engaging in a fight that you couldn't win from the very start? Didn't I tell you, order you, to let me take care of this? I thought that you wouldn't be that risking to try to chase down those shinobi all by yourself. I thought you were more mature than this."

Those words hurt, they hit you like arrows, you feeling hot and cold shame, embarrassment, frustration and anger washing over you, nearly making your head spin in the process. In all the times you had spend with him, you couldn't remember a single time he had ever sounded that harsh, that cruel. Sure, you could recall times where he had been more strict on you, but never like this. You knew that he wasn't wrong. In fact he was right. You had let yourself get carried away, had been careless and risked your own life. And yet..."Be quiet. How can you possibly understand how I feel right now? How I felt back then?" Your voice had gone very quiet, you squeezing the fabric right over your heart, glaring at the ground. Your eyes started stinging, everything becoming blurry before you felt hot tears streaming down your face. "How can you understand how it feels to lose comrades you've known for years all because you were too unable to to protect them? All of them...they died because of me."

It hurt, only remembering it made you feel like someone was stabbing a poisenous blade right in your heart. "I-I couldn't safe them. They all ended up sacrificing themselves for me. My whole team...wiped out in an instant. And I was the only one who made it put alive. And the worst is that all of them died for nothing. I couldn't even give them a meaningful and honorable death. Their families...I couldn't even tell them that the death of their children helped the village, much less face them." Minato was listening attentively, his gaze slowly faltering upon seeing you in such a devastated state. "(y/n)...they were my people too. I know how you feel, I'm in pain as well. But that is no reason to chase blinded by hatred after them. What would have it done good if you would have died in here as well? You would have dishonored their wish to let you continue life. I told you I would make sure that they would be punished for their crimes. Didn't you trust me enough or why did you still decide to go solo?"

"Because I wanted to be the one to catch them and make them pay." Your face was by now stained with a mix made out of blood, sweat and tears. "It's not like I didn't trust you with your promise. It's just that I knew that if I wouldn't at least help to catch, I would have never been able to forgive myself and be confident." You slowly looked up, revealing your pained expression. "I know that this was reckless. But what else could I have done? I just had to do this myself. I don't expect you to understand this, you aren't someone who launches without a plan or lets himself get carried away from his feeling. That's why I knew you wouldn't let me join the team. And that's why I sneaked out myself. I wanted to give their death a meaning as the one who took it from them."

By now it looked like a a bit of warmth had returned to his eyes, giving you a somewhat sympathetic yet still strict look. "I do get why you did it. But what did you hope to gain from this? It won't bring back your team by risking your life nor will it help you feel better. The only thing this would have earned you if I wouldn't have found you would have been the same fate. You should have trusted me and your other comrades. You were in no condition to fight. You had no plan, not the physical skills to do it and certainly not the mentality. Charging in just to feel better about yourself. What were you thinking?"

You scoffed angrily, slowly starting to get back on your feet. A sudden stinging pain in your side made you groan, stumbling nearly back on the ground before you managed to gain your balance back. Your hand snatched automatically under your clothes, pressing against the spot where the pain was coming from. When you pulled back, fresh blood was glistening on your hand. Minato instantly stepped closer to you, a look of concern crossing his face and started stretching his hand out, wanting to help you. "Are you fine? Let me take a short look and-" He stopped when you rudely slapped his hand away, making a shocked look flash over his face. "You think I did this to feel better? Are you kidding me? I'll never feel better about this, no matter what I do. I let them get killed and I'm wel aware that nothing I will do in the future will completely restore me. But still..." You clenched your fists, feeling anger boiling up inside of you. "What other motivation and reason would I have needed besides their pride and memories I'm carrying?!?! You will never be able to understand me!! You didn't saw it!! You merely feel a part of what I'm feeling!! It was my mission!! My responsibility!! And I failed!! How could you ever possibly understand me?!?! Besides, I was only planning on capturing them!! I'm not stupid with thinking when I kill them everything will be fine!! You were the one who just now lost total control and slaughtered them all!! What right do you have to lecture me about what I did wrong when you aren't any better?!?! No matter what you say, I don't regret what I did!! And I would do it over and over again and if you try to stop me, I'll make sure that I'll never have to see you again and stopping me from doing the right thing!!"

You had pushed yourself against him, a furious look on your face, glaring with pure anger at him. And for a short moment everything suddenly seemed to quiet down, even the noises in the forest stopping as if everything was watching you two right now. Minato looked in denial, not believing that you had just lashed out on him like this. "You're right. I'm normally not like this." He looked like he himself was stunned with what he had done. "I'm not the most violent person, but I'm willing to change that if it means having you." He didn't look you in the eyes for a while, glancing at what he had done. But only a few moments later his expression darkened, the previous warmth in his eyes suddenly all gone again. "Just who do you think you're talking to?" His voice was slightly raised, clearly irked about your disrespectful behavior just now. "Do you think you can talk to your Hokage like this? You must not let your anger out on me because you're currently a bit too agitated. The fact reminds that you disobeyed me which could have led to your certain death if I wouldn't have stepped in, meaning you brought my life with your impulsive acting indirectly in danger as well. Not only that, but the village suffered casualties because of you. Those men were needed alive, but because of you they're dead now. Are you even aware in what a bad position you're in exactly?"

Anger turned temporarily in pure disbelief, you looking completely flabbbergasted at him. "What do you mean that they're dead because of me? You were the one who killed them." You felt dread washing over you when being met with his firm gaze, getting a really bad feeling. "And who is there to confirm this?" You nearly choken on the air. "W-what do you mean by this?"

"We're far away from the village. Those guys are dead. No one saw us. It would be in the end your word against mine. And I do hope you know whom the village would believe more. There are even people who can confirm to have you seen leaving the village plus the fact that you took a lot of paperbombs and weapons with you. And you have a very solid motive as well, you even told people you would chase them mercilessly down and revenge your teammates. Everyone would believe it was you. I only came to see you having killed them all."

You had no words, this shameless blackmailing of his having just robbed you your ability to speak properly. Your brain needed a long moment to fiddle a few half-decent sentences together. "Y-you're deranged. Are you seriously blackmailing me now? What has gotten into you?" You didn't know if the slight stirring in his eyes was something akin to regret, maybe you were right now just too much in shock to comprehend and judge properly. The sudden knowledge that someone you had comsidered your best friend had just done the unspeakable to you had blown you completely off-guard. You felt betrayed, bitterness starting to seep into your heart and mind, accompanied by a white-blazing wrath. How could he do this to you?! "You...I hate you." Your face twisted into an angry mask. "I'll make sure that I'll have to see you after this never again!"

Some rational-thinking part of you cursed at you to remain calm, to not do what you were about to do. But your mind was too darkened up to listen, ignoring all the screaming pain you felt when you suddenly tensed all your muscles up and the knowledge that you could not beat him, grabbing angrily a kunai. You felt confused when looking at Mina-. No, at that man in front of you. Who was that? You had never seen him before. Was that the reason why you felt no hesitation to attack him? Because you didn't recognize the man you had shared precious memories with?

"Wait, something is wrong." Time seemed to slow down for a bit, a sudden hyperawareness grabbing you and sharpening your senses unbelievably. You felt a million different thoughts were racing through your mind in less than a second. "Why-why isn't he moving?" Minato was clearly looking at you, he had to know that you were about to launch at him. So why didn't he make any attempts to dodge your attack. Did he want to get hurt by you? But why? A sudden rustling from the trees made your eyes shift in an instant to the noises and the source of it. And that's when realization hit you like a lightning. "SHIT! Did they arrive just now?!"

You had no time to react anymore, the only thing you did manage to do was shifting your course a bit. But you still landed a solid blow, ramming the sharply formed iron in his shoulder, causing him to hiss in pain and jump a bit back. You watched only in horror, sitting helplessly on the ground as all the Anbu were surrounding you in only the matter of a few miniseconds. One rushed instantly to Minato who pulled with a slightly pained expression the kunai out of his freshly created wound, the Anbu instantly pulling out a piece of fabric and pressing it against the bleeding. "Lord Hokage! What happened in here?"

No! You tried to move, but the moment you did, you were thrown harshly to the ground, one of the many members twisting your arm painfully behind your back. "Hey! Let her go. It's fine." Though you couldn't see the face of the person, male judging from his body, you could hear the slight confusion in his voice. "But Lord Hokage...they just attacked you and..." He looked a bit around, the place demolished from all the paperbombs you had used before Minato had elegantly and fastly killed them all. You realized with terror that nothing in here hinted that he had killed or interacted in this fight. He had even used one of your kunais which he had picked up and dropped after being finished. The same kunai with which you had just stabbed him. What had you done. "...and they killed them all. We needed those people for information gathering. Their knowledge was important."

"I know it looks a bit difficult. But they didn't intend to do it. You need to try to see it from their perspective. It must have left a traumatic impact on them. It's terrifying to witness something like this. Especially given the fact that it was their first mission as a team leader. And also, look closer. They lost a lot of blood already. I'm sure that their barely conscious by now. It was a bit my mistake as well. I creeped up from behind them. They probably mistook me as another enemy."

In one point he was right. You were at this point barely keeping it together, black spots dancing in front of your eyes. You still noticed how everyone was looking at you, judging whether to trust you or not. "He might be right. I was assigned to watch over them when they were first delievered in the hospital. I remember that they suffered from nightmares, bad ones. And they are indeed very badly hurt. Stop pressing your body on them like this. They're already very pale and don't look good. Instead of being cautious of them, we should focus on getting them back to the village. Hatred can lead you to becoming blind and for them it must have been an especially mind-and heartshattering experience." You might have felt the smallest bit of gratitude for the woman, but it didn't change much in the end. You were still caught attacking the Hokage and everyone was, just like Minato, had predicted, sure that you were the one who had killed the ninja.

"I want you all to keep this a secret. (y/n) shouldn't have to suffer and endure even more than they already did." Some of the Anbu looked shocked at Minato, other ones accepted his decision, even though more reluctant. "So you're plan on doing nothing? Lord Hokage, by all respect, but there has to be at least a bit of consequences for their behavior."

"I know that. I wasn't planning on letting them go just like this." You had by now lost all the will to fight, one of the Anbu having to support you because you didn't possess the strength to stand on your own. You had by now soaked your top completely on the one side, the bleeding having really stopped. But despite knowing that fainting was very likely at any moment, you forced to focus on what he was having in mind for you.

"I was thinking about remiving their title as a jonin from them, maybe even making them retire for a bit. I don't think that after this experience they'll be able to continue as they used to do. It just left too much of an impact and affected them mentally. I hope by stopping them for a while, they'll have time to recover from their experience. I'll make sure they do. You know that I care for them a lot."

Up until now you had never noticed how talented he really was in lying. But now that you were the victim, you could only be stunned as well as scared of his charms and ways of making people trust him. You had never even thought how terrifying he really was before because you had seen him as a friend. "A friend..."

Before you finally passed out, collapsing due to the blood loss and because everything had just been to much for you, you had one last thought, a resenting and pained smile on your face. "Not anymore. I just realized that this was the same Minato I knew all along. I just never saw what he didn't want me to see. And now I'm paying the price for my naivety."

[tokisguitarpick]

interruption part.1

characters: Skwisgaar Skwigelf x Reader 

doods, I really tried to make this one giant piece but I said that on friday, it’s fuckin wednesday, work has been kicking my ass, here’s what I got so far

The first time you met Skwisgaar Skwigelf was unfortunately also the first time you pissed off Skwisgaar Skwigelf. 

In your defense, you thought it would be prudent to bond with the support staff- your boss Charles, the music producer Abigail and her assistant Dick, the Klokateers, the people around the band- as soon as you could to cement your place at work first. After that, then you would really worry about Dethklok liking you. It's not that you were rude to them, hell your whole job was making sure their needs were met and they were secure and happy on a day to day basis. But if Charles asked you for a report at the same time Murderface told you to go get his dethphone from his bedroom, Charles took first priority. Which was why when you were sent to deliver a fax from Crystal Mountain Records to Abigail, you went diligently down the 4 floors it took to reach the studio and entered quietly, recognizing the red recording light on over the door. A brightly melodious guitar solo rang through the gothic studio rooms, sounding as exquisite as a Beethoven composition when unaccompanied by the rest of the death metal band, and you hovered by the door for a moment. You were nervous to disturb now that you heard exactly what they were recording. But your rationale won out and you decided to simply slip the fax to Abigail and leave.

Approaching her desk, you got a clear look at the source of the music and it caused your step to falter. Skwisgaar, tall and imposing, shredded his guitar with deft hands inside the recording booth, his fingers moving faster on the Gibson neck than your eyes could follow.

Instead, they moved to his face, taking in his closed eyes, his full lips parted, and a light sheen of sweat covering his skin as he worked. His long, cornsilk hair was uncharacteristically swept up in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, short tendrils made loose from exertion clinging to the edges of his face or else flowing around him. A bead of sweat caught your eye as it rolled down his Adams apple and your gaze trailed to his thin, defined arms and the muscles working under his skin, his long fingers showing off every ounce of skill he had. He looked nothing like the guitarist that took the stage with Dethklok, giving a heavy and thrashing performance. He looked at peace, a man entirely in his element. He looked heavenly.

Suddenly, every headline calling him a rock and roll god over a photo of him covered in ghoulish makeup felt entirely false. If only they could see what was in front of you now.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. Your faltered step caused you to squeak as you caught your balance. Abigail jumped and turned in her chair. The music ended with an abrupt squeal and Skwisgaar's icy blue eyes snapped open.

"Oh, who the fucks is this?!" he spat into the mic and you blushed, embarrassment finding a home in the pit of your stomach. Abigail sighed, looking you over with a crooked eyebrow.

"So sorry, I was just bringing this to you." You handed Abigail the fax and she unfolded the paper to read it over. Skwisgaar, who seemed to find your interruption bothersome enough, bristled as your eyes flickered between him and the music producer. He yanked the guitar strap off his shoulder and snarled, "Not evens anythings important! Get the fucks out of heres!" He held the guitar by the neck and gestured aggressively with it.

You jumped, turning tail and hurrying away as fast as you could without running. The only reasoning for his behavior came at the end of an email from Abigail, a throwaway line about it being crunch time with the production of the newest album. But sadly, that was the start of your professional relationship with the Dethklok member and it was a shame, that one instance coloring the way he treated your presence in Mordhaus. He didn't reply when you asked the band questions, he turned his nose up when you had to contain some of the band's more brutal ideas, he only ever referred to you as a servant, the list went on.

It was taxing and honestly, a little upsetting. You had managed to piss off Nathan your first week here as well but by the next morning, he greeted you with a joke about it and asked you to make a pot of coffee. You spent many afternoons wondering if there was any way to make it up to the haughty guitarist. And wondering what exactly you needed to make up in the first place.

The next climactic moment in your relationship came around the four month mark of your employment.

The acrid smell of burning plastic reached you as you walked past the hallway leading to the kitchen, making you sigh. You put a jump in your step, something at odds with the very exasperated expression you could feel on your face, and hurried to the source of the smell, the armful of dirty laundry you'd picked up in the living room discarded as you jogged. Entering the kitchen, it took no time to zero in on the small fire slowly growing on the stovetop. 

Toki and Skwisgaar stood over it, the former blowing frantically at the quickly blackening frying pan while the former flapped at the fire with a hand towel. The mere sight of Toki's long hair billowing around the open flame made your chest seize. "Guys, guys," you will be the first to admit, your voice came out in a shriek, "stop! Move!"

Toki jumped away from the stove with a welp, his eyes wild when he saw you. You snatched the fire extinguisher off the wall by the door and ran up to the stove. Skwisgaar still hadn't moved. If anything, he seemed to step in your way, blocking you from the fire. "I has it under controls, leave." His voice was hard and cold, almost jarring in contrast to the scene playing out.

 And in your bewilderment, you snapped. Months of irritation compounding itself into a rage that bubbled past your lips, you growled, "Skwisgaar Skwigelf. If you think-", you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and wrenched him back, "-for a goddamn SECOND-" Skwisgaar stumbled and you caught his slim waist in the crook of your arm, "-I'm going to explain to Charles-", you threw him behind you and lined up the extinguisher, "-his most arrogant guitarist got third degree burns because he was too fucking STUBBORN-" aim, "-to MOVE!" fire. You pulled the trigger on the fire extinguisher and doused the stove in a thick, chemical scented foam, holding it there until the fire was smothered. Breathing heavily, you spun around and shoved the extinguisher into the blonde's arms. "Then you're stupid, too," you murmured with venom.

Skwisgaar was a tall man so even face to face as you were, he still towered over you, his eyes icy and his hands overlapping yours on the safety equipment. His eyes traced your face and you could the heat coming off your cheeks but using all your strength, you softened your expression. "Stop freezing me out. I'm just here to help." Your voice was still low but much gentler, which seemed to throw him off. Skwisgaar's haughty face mellowed and his eyes dropped to your mouth, his bottom lip finding a place between his teeth unconsciously.

"Ja," Skwisgaar finally replied, a terse acceptance as he took the fire extinguisher from you. His eyes hadn't left your face for a moment and he just rocked back on his heels, keeping the equipment awkwardly held in front of him. "I suppose Charles woulds finds dat upsettings."

Breathing a sigh of relief, you finally looked back at the stove and frowned at the charred frying pan. "Can I ask what you guys were doing?"

Toki finally piped up, seeming relieved that you weren’t yelling at them. "We's were tryings to makes a grilleds cheese."

Eyebrows furrowed, you studied the charcoal in the pan until you recognized it as a whole block of cheese. The mental image of a new, freshly purchased block of cheese, still wrapped in the plastic, being placed by these adult idiots into the frying pan made your blood pressure rise and you immediately put it to the side, deciding against any other questions.

"Okay. Well. I'll order us some pizza."

That cheered Toki up immediately but Skwisgaar simply nodded once, his cheeks turning a very light pink.

From that point on, Skwisgaar seemed to slowly accept your place as a member of the support staff. Between riffing on your jokes and agreeing with you on occasion, you would've said that your relationship with Skwisgaar was the best it had ever been.

Unfortunately, this came with an unforeseen consequence. 

Now, you had a massive crush on Skwisgaar.

Okay, sure. Technically, you'd had a crush on him for a few years. Everyone in the world knew Dethklok and regardless if they liked the music or not, everyone had a favorite. Yours had always been the Swed. And sure, he looked hot as fuck in the recording booth all those momths ago. But all the following cold shoulder encounters had turned you off of the rock star, the withering look he shot you whenever you had tried to reign in the band members kicking any thoughts of fancy to the curb.

But that was before. This was after. The shock you felt later that day when he addressed you by name for the first time was electrifying. Instead of jestful barbs at your expense on the off chance he acknowledged you, Skwisgaar joked that you took no shit so Murderface better stop riling you up. No longer barking "Moves!" if you were in his way, he simply slipped past you, his hand warm against your upper- though once or twice, lower- back. Now you preened yourself when you knew you would see him, not wishing you could hide. It was driving you crazy.

You felt like a groupie or a schoolgirl, constantly fixated on your crush. Wishing and scheming to get closer when he was around you, his presence obscuring your thoughts when he was away. You had read all the print interviews available in the Mordhaus archives, watched the video interviews online, and had even followed a Dethklok fan Instagram to get a smattering of band photos on your timeline every day. You justified it all as being diligent at your job. But that only went so far, even with yourself. You stayed there, living in limbo for months as you wrestled with your feelings and professionalism. Skwisgaar, however, seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on you. You caught him staring at you sometimes but it was so few and far between that you simply chalked it up to him zoning out.

Or that's how you lived until Christmas.

You celebrated your winter holiday early so you could be on call for the band during actual Christmastime, which turned out to be a good idea. The mothers of Dethklok decided to visit the week leading up to the 25th, having skipped the year before on Charles' recommendation and they seemed exceedingly cranky due to that. The week itself was brutal - Nathan was broody and even quicker to anger than normal, Pickles hadn't been seen sober since they learned about the impending arrival, Murderface was essentially a walking scab from the anxious picking he'd subjected his arms to, and Toki was catatonic.

Of course, your focus was caught most by Skwisgaar. Sulky with a sour stomach, he kept his head down all week. He had his guitar glued to his hands and was second only to Toki in using avoidance as a defense mechanism.

It was incredibly stressful juggling between the bristled band members and their neurotic mothers. Charles himself said it would be at least a month before they could schedule any public appearances so the boys could decompress, and ideally avoid a PR nightmare. So to say you were glad to see their mothers finally leave, only Nathan's thanking you for attending to her, was an understatement.

After a long day of taking everyone to eat then to the airport, you had retired to your small Mordhaus apartment as soon as you could - which was pretty soon as the band seemed just as exhausted and had disappeared once you had gotten home.

You didn't reemerge until after midnight, sneaking out and down the hall to find something to eat at a quarter past twelve. The house was quiet on your walk to the kitchen but after grabbing your snack - a cold cut sandwich you had wrapped in a paper towel to avoid leaving a trail of crumbs - you heard soft, twinkling music coming from the living room as you passed it on your way to the elevators. Pausing to listen, you recognized it as guitar and wondered which of the guitarists were playing, given that Nathan was the only band member who couldn't. You wondered if Murderface had seen you head down and was trying to get your attention, a ploy he had used before, ending with your curiosity getting the best of you. You crept to the living room entrance to peek.

Skwisgaar sat on the sofa facing you, pale and glowing in the dim light coming from the arcade games. His eyes were closed as his fingers glided over the neck of his Gibson, his silky hair draping down his neck and naked shoulders. Seemingly dressed for bed, he was shirtless - though his guitar hid his midriff, to your disappointment - with a pair of black sweatpants on. He seemed lost in his music, strumming out a low melody with mastery.

Your breath caught as you took in the sight and you stood there silently, trying to photograph the moment in your mind, until you registered his expression.

Devastation.

His eyes were closed but tears were streaming down his gaunt cheeks, his quivering eyebrows were furrowed, and he was mouthing a song to himself, his full lips pale. He looked like a man at war with himself, lost and broken. The music was no longer soft and twinkling, it hung in the air like a funeral dirge.

As the past few days ran through your mind, every mention of Skwisgaar's childhood came back to you and all the pieces suddenly clicked into place. This wasn't a man lost, this was a man, once again, in his element. The grief and sickness he had been feeling all week was flowing out of his guitar like the tears from his eyes.

Feeling your own eyes prickling, you felt like this was too much, too personal, for you to see. But despite that, your heart ached and you were stepping forward before you registered the motion. "Skwisgaar?"

[kpop---scenarios]

Same Time (5)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five |

Pairing: Changbin x Reader/ Minho x Reader

Warning: Angst..

Word Count: 2.7k

Taglist: @binnieboyswhore @f4ncyvelvet @skittlez-area512 @biaswreckingfics @buttvi @imhyvnjin @wheeintaer @rindomo @lizsvcks @zhaqifa @markswifeu @qtieskz @joonies-destiny @etherealbyeol @straytannies @twnklbb @multi--kpop--fanfics @lilithxray @nothingmorethanamoonchild

Unable to tag: @hwly0ung

Changbin sat in the hallway outside the dorm, replaying what you had said to him. He had tried to tell you that he loved you, the words you had been waiting to hear from him, but yet you just blew him off? He understood that you were mad at him, he knew he fucked up and treated you like garbage and he wanted to apologize and make it up to you, but how could he possibly do that when you won't talk to him. 

"You okay man?"

He turns his head to look beside him, seeing Felix standing there, concerned plastered on his face. "I don't know what to do." Changbin sighs, rubbing his face. He needed to win you back, he loved you, he couldn't lose you, especially not to Minho. "I need to get her to listen to me." 

"Do you want my advice?" He asks.

Changbin nods his head. 

"Then go to her." Felix says. "Show her you care about her. Put in effort and don't stop ever. Even if you end up winning her back, never make her feel like she is less than your entire world. You want her, then show her." 

"You're right." Changbin exclaims. He stands up, rushing down the hallway, on his way to find you. "Thanks man!" He yells. "I owe you." 

Felix rolls his eyes, opening the door back up only to see Minho standing there with his arms crossed. "That's almost the exact same advice you gave me." He glares. 

"Hey." Felix laughs, putting his hands up. "I only asked if you guys wanted my advice, never said I wouldn't share it with others." 

Minho rushes out the door, hoping to find you first. There was no way he was going to let Changbin make it right with you, not when he was so close to having you to himself. 

**

"Beautiful?" You scoff. "Don't even try it, random, handsome man. I have enough boy problems." You groan, dropping your head into your palm. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He asks, taking a sip of his beer. You perk up, turning your head to look at him. 

"Actually?" You ask. 

He eagerly nods his head. "Might be helpful to you to have some male advice." He suggests, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Thank you kind stranger. Bartender, another round for me and my friend here." You order, scooting closer to Wooyoung. "So.." you begin, starting at your reluctant acceptance to the friends with benefits idea, your dates with Minho, the way Changbin treated you, the fighting, confessions up until now, sitting at the bar, getting drunk and spilling your disaster love life to a stranger. 

"Sounds like they both have their flaws but they also both have good redeeming qualities. I think you need to think about who you're going to be happiest with, when I say boyfriend, who is the first one that comes to your mind?" He asks. 

You smile at the question. Only one person came to mind at his question. But you were still unsure if that was the right choice. You needed time to think. 

"Thank you." You say to Wooyoung, you genuinely appreciate the advice he has given you. And now you needed to make a choice. You knew you did. You knew who you should pick but you felt conflicted. Your heart was going to hurt one way or the other. 

Minho or Changbin. 

Changbin or Minho. 

You felt so confused in the moment. You were drunk, you were tired and felt lonely. 

With a sigh, you half smile at Wooyoung as you slide down from the bar stool, trudging your way back to the house with your head hung low. Maybe a good night's sleep would help. You drag your feet up the stairs, collapsing in your bed. You drift to sleep within seconds, dreaming about what your life would be like, had you never started your thing with Changbin, and nothing turned out how it did. 

** 

You wake up early the next morning, stretching your entire body, for the first time feeling like things were going to be okay. Yes this was only your second day here, but you knew this was going to be so good for you to be away from everyone and everything. You needed to just have fun with no worries, be yourself and carefree. 

You were excited. 

You got dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top with your bathing suit underneath. You grab your purse and head downstairs, opening the front door to see someone standing there with their fist up to knock. 

It took you mere seconds to recognize the man standing in front of you. 

"Changbin?" You whisper. Your eyes must be deceiving you, there was no way he was standing in front of you at this moment. 

"Hi." He says, looking up at you. His eyes were red and puffy, tears stained his cheeks. 

"Are you okay?" You ask. You knew you shouldn't, you knew he didn't deserve your sympathy or concern. 

But you still loved him.  

You still cared for him. 

"I miss you." He croaks, trying to hold back tears again. "I miss you and I love you and it's you. I need you. I want you. I know I fucked up, I know I treated you like shit." He sniffles. "I was scared and I know that's no excuse but I just need you to know that I'm in it for the long haul. Whatever you ask me to do, I'll do it. I'll wait for you if you need time, I'll go to counseling, I'll do whatever you want. Just please.. tell me you love me back. Tell me you want me." He pleads.

"I.." you pause. This wasn't how you wanted to do it. This wasn't how you wanted to tell one of them the news. You had everything planned out for when you got back, in a familiar setting and not here and now at the front door of the rented beach house. "Come in." You sigh, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside the house. You take him up the stairs and into your room, sitting him on the bed. 

Changbin sits there with his head in his hands, sniffling as he waits for you to say something. Anything. He just wanted you to tell him it would be okay and you weren't going to leave him. You were all he wanted, but he understood if you decided you didn't want him.

"I love you." You whisper, waiting to see his reaction. His head jolts up, hoping you're not going to take it away now. "But.." you pause. His heart sinks again. "We need to take things slow." You finish. 

"You're not joking?" He asks, his hands gripping the bed tightly. 

"Why would I joke about this?" You ask. "I'm being serious. You're the one I have loved for so long. How could it be anyone other than you?" 

Changbin stands up, wrapping his arms around you, holding you as closely as possible. 

"So what does this mean exactly?" He asks. 

"We don't sleep with anyone else, but we're seeing each other, taking things slow." You explain. 

"I can do that. I would do anything for you." He says, tilting your chin up, to place a small kiss on your lips. 

** 

Over the next few days, you were in absolute heaven. Changbin was staying at the beach house with you and you honestly couldn't have been happier. He was sweet, attentive, passionate, loving and caring, he made you laugh constantly and made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. 

You felt as though you whole-heartedly had made the right decision. 

That night you were getting ready to head to a party with Changbin and Jessi. You had been invited through Jessi by Wooyoung, and you were excited to introduce Changbin to your new friend. You had really thought they would get along great and become friends. You were both so happy when you were on your way to the party. When you arrived you both got a drink and you and he made rounds, meeting new people, talking and laughing. As you were talking you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turn around and are met with the smile of Wooyoung. 

"Hey!" You say excitedly, wrapping your arms around him for a hug. He tightly hugged you back, and as soon as you let go and looked at Changbin the energy he was giving off had completely changed. You tried to ignore it, but he was glaring at Wooyoung, his hands balled into fists as you talked to him. "This is Changbin." You smile, motioning to your boyfriend. Wooyoung extends his hand towards Changbin, who just looks at it and scoffs before walking away. 

"I'm sorry." You mumble, taking off after him as he weaves through the crowd. You finally managed to grab onto him outside, turning him around to face you. 

"What was that?" You ask. "That was so rude. What is wrong with you?" 

"You. You're what's wrong with me." He spits. "Are you fucking him too? Fucking him and me, like you did with Minho?" He yells. 

You step back, your hand over your heart as you look at him, shock and hurt plastered across your face. 

"Are you kidding me?" You laugh. "After everything? Wooyoung and I are just friends. Like you and Hwasa." You say, rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, me and her are just friends." He says. 

"See." You point out.  

Changbin stands there with thoughts rushing through his head. "I fucked up." He whispers. 

"Yeah you did." You spit, turning around and heading back to the beach house. Changbin follows, incessantly apologizing to you, begging you to just hear him out. But you would rather not hear him say anything, you were so mad at him. 

How could he just accuse you like this, out of nowhere. You thought you were past all this bullshit. You chose him, what more did he want? Minho was in the past, you would always have a past with him and Changbin was just going to have to accept it. 

You made your way to the beach house, your night now was ruined thanks to Changbin's jealousy. You stomped up the stairs to your room with Changbin trailing behind you, trying to get you to talk to him, to let him apologize but you wanted none of it. You slammed the door in his face, locking it from the inside as you laid down on the bed and cried. You could hear the faint knocks from Changbin on the other side. His pleading for you to open the door, but you didn't want to. 

"I'm insecure." He yells through the door. "I'm worried that I'm not going to be good enough for you, or you're going to realize that you made a mistake and leave me. I know I need to work on it. I'm sorry Ayn. He was so handsome, I immediately felt so insecure and I lashed out." He finishes. 

You unlock the door, facing the man that you chose. "I'm allowed to have male friends. And sometimes they might be attractive, but you desperately need to remember that what happened with me and Minho was when we were just friends. We weren't together. But now that we are, I would never cheat on you. Okay?" You say, stroking his cheek. He leans into your hand, kissing your palm before you pull him into the bedroom with you. 

This was his last night here with you, and you didn't want to spend it fighting over some dumb words. So you spent it laying in his arms, talking about what the future held and where you saw yourselves, and wow were you so in love with this man. 

Changbin left the next morning, while you stayed for the remainder of the vacation. You spent your time at the beach, drinking and having a blast with Jessi and Wooyoung. You didn't want it to end, but you were excited to get home to Changbin and see how your relationship was in a familiar setting. 

You also knew you needed to talk to Minho, which wasn't going to be easy. You really did like him, but love will always outweigh like. 

"I'm sorry." You whisper, as you sit next to Minho after breaking the news. "I just.." you pause with a sigh. 

"I get it." He says. "I mean I'm not happy about it but you love who you love. I'm happy for you guys." He smiles. 

"I really hope we can still be friends?" You ask. 

"I'd like that." He says, standing up and walking towards his room. You walk to Changbin's room, crawling into bed with him, letting out a sigh of relief. 

"How'd it go?" He asks, rubbing your head. 

"Good. We're going to be friends. He looked so sad though." You sigh.

"He'll be okay." Changbin reassures you. 

You knew he would be, but you still felt guilty for some reason. You tried to ignore it, but the weird, anxious feeling in your stomach never went away. 

** 

4 months. 

That's how long it lasted until you and Changbin were in another fight. 

"I don't like the way he looks at you." Changbin yells. 

You had gone out for lunch with some coworkers and Changbin, introducing him to them and one of them happened to be a guy. According to Changbin he was eyeing you up, and practically fucking you with his eyes. 

"We're friends. Remember, I'm allowed to have male friends. You're my boyfriend, not my keeper." You yell, rolling your eyes. 

Changbin scoffs again, stepping back from you. "You're fucking him, aren't you?" He says, looking you up and down. 

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask. 

You could not do this again. Not this shit again. 

"It's like fucking Minho all over again." He spits. "Fucking slut." He spits. 

"Get the fuck out, Changbin. You need to calm the fuck down." You yell, pointing to the door. 

His eyes turn soft seconds later, realizing what he had just said to you. But he doesn't say anything, he just storms out of your apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

You plopped on your couch, laying your head down on the back of the couch as you take a deep breath. This was fucking stupid. You couldn't keep dealing with him and accusing you of fucking people because of what happened in the past when you were friends. This wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair for him to be treating you like this, and the two of you needed to have a serious conversation and figure some stuff out. 

Life was too short to be stuck in a relationship without any trust and it was very obvious Changbin had 0 trust in you. 

A few hours later, you make your way to the dorm, ready and calm enough to talk to Changbin. He had been ignoring your phone calls, so you figured you'd just go and then he would have no choice but to talk to you. 

"Hello?" You call out as you open the front door to the dorm, walking in, a bag of yours and Changbin's favorite snacks in your hand. It was quiet, it seemed as though no one was around.

"Changbin?" You call out. 

Suddenly someone rushes out of a room, running over to you. 

"Oh. Hey Minho." You smile. 

He doesn't return the smile, but instead looks panicked. 

"What are you doing here?" He asks, looking around. 

"Changbin and I got into a fight..  I'm here to talk to him. Is he in his room?" You ask, trying to move past Minho to go to Changbin's room. 

"I uh, you can't go in there." He whispers. 

"What?" You laugh. "Why not?" 

"Ayn.. you don't want to go in there." He says sternly. 

"Minho, you're scaring me. What the hell are you talking about?" You ask, moving past him. You quickly walk to Changbin's room, placing your hand on his door knob. 

"Ayn, don't." He calls out. 

You turn the knob, pushing the door open. You see your boyfriend's back, naked and sweaty as he thrusts his cock into someone, making her moan loudly. 

You drop the bag of snacks, catching his attention. He turns around, seeing your horrified face watching him cheat on you. 

"Ayn.." he whispers, pulling out of her, covering himself on the bed. 

The girl sits up, and suddenly everything makes sense. Your heart shatters into a million pieces. 

Hwasa. 

With tears filling in your eyes, you look between the two of them. 

"Just friends, right?"  

[rogue-durin-16]

OUT OF TROUBLE

Summary: After a Quidditch match, both George and Y/n sneaked out to grab a drink at the Three Broomsticks with their respective teammates. The tension between the two groups might end up causing more trouble than imagined.

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Genre: kinda angsty kinda fluffy

Tags:

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @skarlettmikaelson

Warnings: blood, injuries, violence, concussion, language (?)

A/N: idk what to say apart from the idea of George losing his shit big time won't leave me alone and idek why (blaming it on that scene in the Order of the Phoenix in which George and Harry beat Malfoy the fuck up) so enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"Well," McGonagall's severe eyes scrutinized all six of us from the other side of her desk. "who is going to give us" she briefly motioned at Snape, who stood by her side with an unimpressed yet disappointed look on his face. "a proper explanation of why Madam Rosmerta so kindly let us know that not only seven of our seventh year students were on Hogsmeade without permission,"

"But also making a scene and coming to blows." Snape finished, quirking a brow. "Do you know how lucky you are that Madam Rosmerta picked on the fact that you were students?" The potions teacher's eyes fixed on the three Gryffindors before inquiring, "Who started it?"

Silence.

"Merlin's— There is a student in the hospital wing!" McGonagall exclaimed outraged. "You all ought to come clean about this one."

More silence.

"Mister Weasley, you seem to be unusually quiet." The Head of Slytherin pointed out.

"Well, you see, professor," George's head, which had until that moment been resting on his arms over the school desk, was tilted up slightly. "I've got a bit of a headache going on." He motioned at the back of his head, in which a patch of dried blood had glued his hair.

"Weasley, I must insist on you to go see Madam Pomfrey." McGonagall's tone, although remaining severe, softened a bit.

"Nah, 's not that bad." George gave Warrington a side look and forced himself to sit upright.

"I'm going to ask again." Snape spoke. "Who started it?" He weighed the possibilities before inquiring, "Mister Weasley?"

"Why me?!" George flinched at his own shouting.

"Do you want me to believe the state Mister Montague was left in was Miss Spinnet's doing? Miss Bell's, perhaps?" The Gryffindor girls grumbled under their breaths, catching the professor's attention. "What was that?"

"I said why us?" Katie questioned with a tinge of indignation. "Is it because we're Gryffindors?"

"Obviously." Snape spat, earning a roll from Mcgonagall, though she didn't oppose her colleague.

Alicia only laughed humorlessly and folded her arms over her chest.

"We can stay here all night, if you'd like it that way." McGonagall stated after around five minutes of just silence.

"Ugh, fine." George let his head fall in the comfort of his forearms again and groaned, "it was me— I started it. Can we go now?"

"What the hell?!"

"Miss Spinnet!" McGonagall scolded her, stomping her desk.

"Can we go now or not?" George's eyes met my shocked gaze briefly.

"Everyone but you, Mister Weasley." McGonagall stated.

"Wait, no." I tapped my foot nervously against the tiles and took at deep breath. "It wasn't him, it was me."

"Miss Y/l/n!" I refused to meet McGonagall's and Snape's face, so I left my eyes casted down, but I still heard the professors' quiet whispers. "What on Godric's name happened?"

Two Hours Earlier

After a Quidditch victory in Slytherin's favor, some of us had resolved to sneak out of the castle and go celebrate with a drink in Hogsmeade.

Turns out some Gryffindors had had the same idea, though the drink they were having was definitely not a celebration.

"Look who's here," Montague nodded in the Gryffindors direction, purposefully walking in their direction. "You're missing half of the team!" He chuckled, not stopping more than a couple of seconds. "Are they crying on their dorms?"

"Get lost, Montague." Katie Bell spat, earning faces from both Graham and Cassius. Alicia Spinnet flipped us off, and George limited himself to give me a small wave, which I returned with a little smile.

"How's the place this crowed?" Kevin questioned with a frown as we tried and failed to find an empty booth.

"No idea." I replied, taking a look around. "I'll go grab the drinks, you look for a place, yeah?" Cassius nodded and I made my way to the counter; I could feel Bell's and Spinnet's dirty looks on me while I ordered the butter beers.

"Celebrating, are we?" My head turned to meet George's form, leaning on the counter besides me.

"Yup." I shortly answered with a proud grin.

"You're missing your seeker." I rolled my eyes at his comment. "I wonder where he's at."

"You know where he's at." I quirked my brow when he played dumb, a smug smile dancing on his lips. "I'm very aware it was you who sent him to the hospital wing."

"It was actually a bludger." He pointed out, giving Madam Rosmerta the coins for a butter beer.

"Oi, what are you doing?" I attempted to shove his hand away, but there was no use.

"Smoothly buying you a drink?" He winked and I felt blood going up to my cheeks. "Just her drink, though." He added, looking at Rosmerta.

"No you're not— he's not." The owner of the Three Broomsticks gave us a look but ended up accepting my money instead.

"Aw c'mon, Y/n" George pouted while Rosmerta passed me the drinks. "I've just lost an important match, let me have a win?"

"You can buy me the next drink," I resolved, chuckling at the way his expression lighted up. "but only if you don't cause trouble."

"Pfft I'm too depressed to cause trouble." I could tell he wasn't joking, though he still made it sound humorous. "Need help with that?" He motioned at the four drinks I was attempting to grab.

"No she doesn't."

George visibly grimaced at the sight of Cassius but, instead of snapping at him, he only leaned on me and pecked my cheek after saying, "No trouble, see?"

"Piss off, Weasley."

"No need to be that rude." I spat, taking two glasses in my hand.

"No need to consort with the enemy." He responded, picking up the remaining jars.

We approached the spot our Quidditch team had taken and had a surprisingly uneventful good time, until Montague started to run his mouth.

"Look at them, they're so pathetic." He obnoxiously laughed.

"Look at whom?" I questioned, a bit lost in my thoughts to know what he was even talking about.

"Don't play dumb." He hissed. "As if you haven't been staring at that Weasel since we entered."

"Ugh, honestly Graham." I lazily played with my jar. "Can't we just enjoy the drink without focusing on the only three Gryffindors in the room?"

"You're one to talk." Cassius mumbled.

"Meaning?"

"Graham's right, you've been staring at him." I pinched the bridge of my nose. They've done this little number so many times that I was no longer embarrassed. "What was that kiss about?"

"Cassius!"

"What kiss?" Graham inquired.

"He kissed her."

"Oh my gosh—" I threw my head down to my forearms in desperation.

"Ew!" Kevin gagged dramatically. "Did you let a blood traitor kiss you with that filthy mouth?"

"You did not just say that." My tone held a serious warning as I looked up at our keeper.

"Great, he's staring." Cassius grumbled.

"Frankly, he could use a lesson." My eyes widened at Graham's words; at first I thought he was joking, but then he grabbed his wand with a wicked smirk.

"Don't make a bloody number." I whispered. "We'll get in trouble."

"Y/l/n, I'm starting to think you're not on our side."

"Montague, if you earn us detention—" my words were cut off by another statement of his.

"No one's gonna know if we're sneaky enough." I looked at Bletchley and Warrington for some back up but they both seemed to be on board with Montague's plan. "What about a little... cruci—" before he could finish the word, I kicked his chair, making him fall to the floor.

"What's wrong with you?!" I shouted, kicking his wand away after standing up myself.

"Y/n, calm down." Cassius said.

"He was gonna use the Cruciatus, so maybe no?!"

"Careful, Y/n." By then, Montague had already gotten up; Bletchley had to tug him back for him not to go against me. "If you get along with scum, you're scum."

I didn't fully realise that I had slapped him until I heard a few people gasping; all from sudden, I was very aware that I had attracted unwanted attention.

There was a moment of tense silence between Montague and me, quickly followed by him grabbing my hair and hitting my face against the table, too fast for me to do anything about it.

"OI!" Cassius pulled me away from Montague, my hands covering my most likely broken nose, debating on whether to hold it to stop the nosebleed or not touching it to avoid more pain.

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

"They're talking shit." Katie whispered, squinting her eyes at the Slytherins.

"Of course they're talking shit." I responded.

"I'd love to go there and shove those—" Alicia grumbled, tightening the grip on her glass.

"Don't." They both looked at me expectant and I only shrugged. "Y/n asked me not to cause trouble."

Alicia snorted when my eyes travelled to Y/n and Katie mocked me with a silly grin. "Awww, Alicia, he's in love."

"George Weasley is in love" Alicia faked a gag. "With a Slytherin."

"Oh my— you're two shut up." I felt blush creeping up my neck, though I couldn't help the smile twitching up the corners of my lips.

"I mean," Katie shrugged, sharing a look with our friend. "Could be worse."

"Could be Warrington." Before I could respond to Alicia, a loud noise was heard behind me. "Ooooh your princess just kicked Montague." Our chaser commented; we all turned around to look at the Slytherins. "This is gonna be fun."

"Why do I feel like they're talking about us?" I said with a laugh.

"Did... Did she just say 'cruciatus'?" Katie questioned, a tinge of worry in her voice.

"Damn! Okay, time to go." Alicia whispered, getting up right after Y/n had slapped Montague. Katie and I were already following her to the exit when a thud made us stop in our tracks.

"He did not—" Katie started.

"He did." Alicia replied; she was quick to double check on me, but I was quicker to stalk towards Montague. "George no!"

READER'S P. O. V.

I came to the conclusion that we were already in trouble, so I might as well go for it and get Montague back.

Cassius saw that coming and held me back by my forearms, but Graham was being pushed against the table behind him in the blink of an eye.

It took us all aback the way George had stormed in scene; we stood there frozen for a hot second, until Bletchley realised Montague was trying to shake George off in vain while the Gryffindor threw blows at him whilst tackling him to the table.

"George! Stop!" Alicia yelled, coming to stand by my side, unsure of what to do.

"Get off him!" The keeper was the first one to try and remove George from Graham, whose face was starting to look as bloodied as mine. He did succeed for a split second, giving the Slytherin chaser enough room to get back at George.

I shook Cassius off the moment Montague jumped on George to aid the ginger, but before I could do anything, he was punching Graham again, though now he sported a swollen lip himself, along with a cut on his cheek, probably caused by Graham's rings.

This time, when Bletchley tried to shove him off Montague, he ended up with George's elbow digging into his stomach.

"He's gonna kill him!" Bell exclaimed, genuinely worried about the outcome.

"George!" I called his name, hoping it would have an effect, but the beater was too lost on the fight. "Wait— No!!" I tried to grab Cassius' hand when I saw him reaching for one of the heavy jars, but he was quicker to crash it on George's crown.

He hissed, losing balance instantly; his hands went to the back of his head, releasing Montague from his hold. My teammate took the opportunity to kick him off, but before he could try to punch George again, I reached to them, pulling the ginger away and not so accidentally stomping on my Montague in the process.

Just when everything seemed to have calmed down, I noticed Spinnet had thrown herself to Cassius.

Bell was struggling to tug her friend away, Cassius was being pulled back by a mildly hurt Bletchley, Montague was curled up in a ball on the floor and George and I stayed knelt not far from him while I checked his head.

It was only when Madam Rosmerta appeared with a towering, strong employee who managed to separate Spinnet and Warrington that it came to an end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Graham tried to use the Cruciatus curse on George, professor." I explained without meeting McGonagall's eyes. "And I stopped him."

"He— he what?!" The Head of Gryffindor yelled horrified.

"Miss Y/l/n, did you send Mister Montague to the hospital wing?" Snape questioned wearily.

"That was me." George replied before I could make anything up. "And Warrington broke a glass on my head."

"Spinnet tried to kill me!" Warrington shouted.

"If I had wanted to kill you, you'd be dead!" Alicia yelled back.

"Don't lie to yourself darling!" Bletchley hissed.

"Don't 'darling' her dickhead, I'll jump on you right here!" Bell spat, leaning over her table.

"Shut up, Bell!"

"ENOUGH!" McGonagall shouted. "Fifty points will be substracted from each of you. Your families will be informed of this, and needless to say you won't make any more trips to Hogsmeade."

"Minerva, I think Weasley has earned himself detention for the rest of the year." Snape commented.

"And so did Mister Montague and Miss Y/l/n." She responded. "Now off to sleep, all of you— except from Weasley and Y/l/n, you two go see Madam Pomfrey— no but's, Weasley."

"Yes professor." George sighed, getting up and following me out of the class and into the corridor. "You okay?" His voice was so soft as he fell into step with me that I had to refrain myself from kissing him.

"Nose's probably broken." I shrugged, stealing a look at his crown. "How's your head?"

"Hurts a bit." He was obviously playing it off, but I didn't say a thing about it. "I'm sorry for that little number."

"Nonsense! As if it was your fault Montague's a douche." I reassured him.

"So... you're not mad at me?"

"I'm only mad at the fact that I didn't get to punch him." I replied with a chuckle triggering a smile on his. "Plus," I chewed on my lower lip, hesitating for a moment before adding, "it was kinda hot."

George let out a shocked snort, his whole face redder than mine while words stumbled incoherently out of his mouth, preventing him from forming a coherent sentence.

"Don't do it again, though."

"Uh- yeah— NO- I mean, no- I-I won't— I don't do this often—" I giggled at his stammering and brushed his pinky with my own. He cleared his throat and took the hint, intertwining his fingers with mines. "You know, technically it was you who caused trouble so..."

"So?"

"Can I still buy you a drink?" He sheepishly requested, his thumb drawing circles on the back of my hand while we reached the hospital wing.

"We're banned from Hogsmeade, though." I reminded him.

"Well, I might know a way of getting there without being noticed."

"I'm in then." I stated. "Only if you promise we'll stay out of trouble."

"Can't promise that." He squeezed my hand and let it go when Madam Pomfrey spotted us. "But I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will." I tugged on his sleeve and placed a kiss on his cheek before following the healer's directions.