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tsumuhours · 3 days

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CLANDESTINE PARING: suna rintarō x fem!reader TAGS: smut, best friends brother trope WORD COUNT: 5k

If there’s one thing about the end of exams and upcoming – high school – graduation, is the plethora of parties that follow. Call it what you want; schoolies, freedom, and an amazing – yet awful – experience full of drinking, hangovers, or the flu.

At this moment, you’ve been crashing at the one and only Niki Suna’s home. Your best friend, and number one party animal who has a killer house in the centre of all the house parties being thrown by, now, old classmates.

It has been incredible, her parents aren’t home which gives the two of you the freedom to leave every night and come back after midnight without any questions or secrecy. The only issue is that her twenty-year-old brother is home.

Rintaro is not a big problem, he keeps to himself, never leaves his room. He’s only in the country for his sister's graduation, free food, and the fact that he doesn’t have to do his own laundry. Plus, it’s a free vacation.

Although, the times he does come out of his room, you can’t help but feel awkward around him. The last he saw of you was two years ago, when you were sixteen – an age that wasn’t sweet at all. Despite the short time span, a lot can change in two years, you’re evidence of that statement.

You’ve grown into your face, matured, and don't look as young anymore. You’ve gotten more confident with yourself, your body, and it all reflects in the clothes you wear. You speak with a certain command and authority, you walk with a grown confidence, and radiate an aura of gold.

Who knew that the girl that he knew would morph and change into a completely different person in the span of two years? No one can blame him for keeping a fixed gaze on you whenever you pass by, it’s admirable to see the person you’ve become.

However, it doesn’t matter how much self-confidence you’ve built up over the last two years. Around him, around his sharp stare and gaze, it’s hard to keep your head up or find the will to get up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water out of the anxiousness that he’ll be there too.

Which brings you and Niki to now. Friday night, one thirty in the morning, the two of you are walking through the front door. You have managed to sober up from that mysterious, sweet, and addictive, rum punch concoction that you’ve had one too many glasses of.

You cannot say the same for Niki, who had spent the night downing one too many shots and has yet to ride out the alcohol. Nevertheless, she’s still able to walk on two feet and not stumble into every coffee table or shelf stacked with family photos.

“Oh my god,” Niki laughs, kicking off her shoes by the door. “I kept my mouth shut about this at the party, but fuck what was Rina thinking going for Jennie’s man?” She scoffs, “We need to debrief in my room.”

“Girl, I’ve got so much to fucking say about Rina.” You add, forcefully removing your shoes, “Like, I was talking to Jasmine earlier on the balcony and god has Rina been pissing a lot of people off recently.”

“Tell me about it,” Niki rolls her eyes, starting to walk up the steps with you following behind her. “Like, she was fucking wilding out tonight.” She mutters, pushing open her room door – revealing the mess created from getting ready – and collapsing onto her bed.

You, however, reach into your bag for the little toiletries pack, wanting to get all the makeup off your face and make sure no future breakouts happen. Skin care is a priority. And head towards the ensuite bathroom, “And she didn’t even know what she was doing.” You say.

“Me personally,” Niki hums, “if I was Jennie, I would’ve swung on that bitch.”

“That’s so fucking valid though,” you nod, pulling out a micellar wipe before dragging it over your eyes. “Like, what the fuck are you doing? Get away from my man, if it’s like, you know I’m into him, we’ve hooked up multiple times before, what are you doing?”

“Literally!” Niki exclaims, “We’re supposed to be friends! Why are you cuddling next to him on the couch?” She questions, shaking her head at the awful events that transpired throughout the night. “But! Don’t think I didn’t see you and Atsumu earlier.”

“What about me and Atsumu?” You question, poking your head through the open bathroom door – still scrubbing away the mascara from your eyes. “Bro, Helen even asked me about that! She was like: when did you and Atsumu get so close?”

“Did you do anything?” Niki asks, sitting up from the bed. “I know you have tendencies to get with people then not tell me!” She laughs, “Who was it again? There was Mattsun, and then his best friends? You have a tendency to go for the whole group.”

“No, no, I did not do anything with anyone tonight.” You reply, “I mean, I wanted to… don’t get me wrong, but I had a feeling no one was down.”

“Ugh, boo!” She groans, “Shit, okay, I need to change.” Niki thinks aloud, standing up from the mattress, “God, I’m so fucking ready to knock out and have the best fucking sleep of my life.”

Your best friend opens up her closet, digging out a big t-shirt and shorts. “God, I need some fucking water.” You mumble, tossing the dirty makeup wipes into the bin, “I peed like five times at the party.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Niki snorts, slipping through that big t-shirt of hers.

“Dehydration is the biggest cause of hangover headaches,” you inform. “We’ve got two more parties coming up, and I’d like to be in good shape for the next forty-eight hours of ragers.” You exit the bathroom, then dig into your bag to change into pyjamas.

Simple. Shorts and a tank. You walk back into the bathroom, half closing the door as you get changed. “Okay, so go downstairs and get water.” Niki says, stating the obvious.

“Can you come with me?” You ask from the bathroom.

“What? No, go by yourself.” She says, “You’ve been here a billion times before, my parents see you more than they see me. This is practically your second home, why do you need me to come with you?”

You adjust your tank top before stepping out into the bedroom, “Niki! Your brother is downstairs, I don’t want to go down there alone.” You plead, “If it was just us, or your mother, then yeah, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Girl,” your best friend looks at you as if you’re crazy. “It’s Rintaro, he probably won’t even clock that you’re down there. He’s not the brightest in the bunch, he’s studying business.”

“Yeah, but like, can you just… please?”

“You’ll be fine! He’s just Rintaro, and he’s probably high as fuck.” She assures, “He’s probably too stoned to care.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” You dramatically sigh, trudging towards the closed bedroom door. “I feel so betrayed right now.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Niki laughs. “Hey, and since you’re going down there, get the big water bottles from the fridge and get those crab or prawn crackers from the pantry.” She adds, finding a perfect opportunity to stuff her face with snacks.

Although, Niki is underestimating how tired she really is, because the second she gets comfortable in bed – she will be out like a light. Niki has always been a quick sleeper, she claims it’s iron deficiency.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” You wave her off, mentally preparing yourself as you walk down those steps.

As you navigate towards the kitchen, there’s music playing quietly from the TV in the dark living room. Rap, hip-hop, 21 Savage. And no doubt, there’s Rintaro sitting on the couch, a weed pen between his lips as he sprawled out on the couch, the dim light from his laptop casting shadows on his face.

Lord knows what overdue assignment he’s working on, or how he can possibly be in the right state of mind to write a 2,800 word essay before the – extensions – deadline.

Still, he lays on the couch, inhaling that condensed form of THC. Wearing sweats and a flannel that has been – purposely – unbuttoned. The way he sees it, is if you can wear those little black shorts with the white rims, he can unbutton his flannel.

Now, never in a million years did he think he’d find himself attracted to you. It’s not meant to be an insult, but after watching you go through the most unflattering, awkward, phases and being his little sister's best friend… this new change, of seeing who you are now hit him like a pile of bricks.

Besides it’s not fair to see you parade around in those clothes, unknowingly teasing him. The past couple days have been hell, a game of look but never touch. You’ve been connected at the hip with Niki, you’ve been avoiding him.

Talking loudly about these random guys who looked ‘so fit’ at whatever party. Yeah, he’s heard those late night conversations you’ve been having. Niki doesn’t know how to close a door, and the walls are quite thin.

Rintaro just wants a little fun, he wants to poke the bear, he wants to mess with you. Nothing serious. Just something to keep him entertained, being home has been extremely boring, and the last thing he wants to do is hang around a bunch of high schoolers at parties.

His eyes glance up from his laptop screen, watching you like a fox, as you walk into the kitchen. He watches you as you grab that litre water bottle from the fridge, then dig into the pantry for those god awful prawn crackers.

Rintaro gets up from the couch and approaches you. This is his chance, his chance to have a little fun, to get into your head with some sadistic ploy that will now doubt keep you up at night. Nothing more than a little flirty comment.

“Fun night?” He hums, catching you off guard as you hold the heavily inflated packet to your chest. “It seems like you and Niki are out every day, how many parties could there possibly be?”

“You should know, you went through the same thing.” You comment, calmly, nonchalantly. You can’t let him see that he gets to you in a way no one else does.

Rintaro is the type of guy who is attractive and knows it. He’s cocky, and until now, barely gave you the time of day – or looked at you the way he’s doing now. It’s obvious, it’s in his eyes, one of the main reasons you’ve been avoiding him.

He’s giving you the look that you’re no stranger to.

You know what he’s doing, and lord knows you’ve played these exact same games in the last couple months. Nevertheless, that doesn’t excuse the pick up of your heart, or the slight shake in your hands as you talk to him. Rintaro is a tall guy, he’s intimidating, and on top of it all, crazy attractive.

Anybody would be nervous.

Even you, with your big mouth and presented confidence.

“But yeah, it was a good night.” You add, walking over to the counter to grab the bottle of water. You can’t be gone for long, that would only raise questions from the very best friend who is waiting upstairs for her snacks.

Or so you think, at this moment, Niki is knocked out on her bed – late night scrolling on socials instantly sent her to sleep – as what was previously mentioned, Niki underestimated how tired she was.

“Anything interesting happen?” Rintaro asks, resting back against the countertop. “From what I heard Rina is about to get shunned from the friend group,” he teases.

“Well, she wouldn’t have to worry about that if she had backed off.” You reply, “Never go for a friend's man, that’s claimed territory.”

“What about brothers?” He muses, “Are they off limits too?”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, that was corny. “Yeah, I’d say they are.” You nod, fighting back the temptation to playfully flirt back. “It’s worse if this brother is someone you’ve known since you were thirteen.” You shrug.

“Well, if I could plead the case that the brother probably didn’t want to push any boundaries before, and didn’t see the sister's friend as a proper… prospect.” He says, “Besides, no fifteen-year-old would ever consider looking at someone younger. That’s weird.”

“How is it different now?” You question, “It’s still two years.”

“Eighteen is an appropriate age for a respectable gap of that size,” Rintaro hums. “It’s not like I’ll be playing on an illegal field either.”

“‘I’ll’?” You repeat, “What are you implying Rintaro?”

There you go, you’ve caught him. May as well surrender and stop whatever he’s planning. A real shame though, you’d be lying if you say you’ve never considered or thought about what it’d be like. It’s just that, he’s your best friend's brother.

Sure, the song is a good escape and great material to think about, but it’s not something you actually ever considered pursuing. He makes you nervous, even talking to him now feels like a crime. And the fact that you’re flirting doesn’t make the situation any better.

“I’m not implying anything,” he shrugs. “And I don’t know what possibly drew you to that conclusion,” he says. “Are you implying something?”

“Well, I don’t see any reason for something to be implied.” You shake your head, “All I’m wondering is why you brought up the concept of brothers being off limits, as if anything like that has stopped you before.”

“Oh, wow, you’ve got a sharp tongue.” Rintaro remarks, “Flirting with me, and patronising me at the same time. I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“That’s nice, but I should get back to Niki.” You say, “You know, your sister, my best friend, who is currently upstairs.”

“Oh, come on, you and I both know that she’d probably be knocked out in bed.” He comments, “Stay down here for a while, I could use the company.”

“I know what you’re doing, Rintaro.” You inform, “I see it in your eyes, and it’s not going to happen.”

He’s been looking at you as if you’re prey. And the alcohol still in your system makes it a lot easier to talk to him without stuttering over your words or getting flustered. His stare is probably the worst part about this whole interaction.

“What am I doing?” He asks.

He’s failed to realise that it’s hard to play a player. If you were considering flirting back, it’d be sly. The small hand placements, comments, the simplest of looks that would trap him in. You have your system, and it works. It worked for Matsukawa and all his friends.

And it would have worked on Rintaro.

“You know what you’re doing,” you hum. “Now, I will be heading back upstairs. Lord knows I’m not drunk enough to betray my best friend.”

“And I’m not high enough to not care about the consequences,” Rintaro shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I still don’t want to do it.” He takes a step closer to you, grabbing the items in your hand and places them down on the countertop.

“You cannot be serious right now,” you shake your head. Sure, you knew that he was trying to play you, use you for a little entertainment, but you didn’t actually think he was being serious. You didn’t actually think he’d make a move.

And no, he’s not expecting anything to happen or to come from this. He’s pushing his limits, seeing how far he can get until you end up running off. If anything, what’s persuaded him to be so forward is the sight of that little gummy bear charm hanging from your necklace. That stupid pink charm that you and Niki got as a symbol of your friendship or whatever.

That stupid pink charm that dips down to the crevice of your chest – something he hasn’t seen before, considering, in the past, they’d always be hidden behind a hoodie or some unflattering t-shirt.

“I’m being serious,” he hums. Going along with some bit he’s come up with in his head. His fingers wrap around that little pink gummy bear as he plays with it.

“Don’t do that, don’t even try Rintaro.” You shut him down, looking up into those striking pair of eyes, “Niki is upstairs. What would she think if she came down here and saw this?” You question, swatting his hand away.

Curse your fucking loyalty.

Rintaro rolls his eyes, placing his hands on either side of you on the counter, trapping you between his arms. “Niki this, and Niki that. She’s not down here, is she?” He questions, “What if Niki wasn’t a problem? Because, it seems like your only defence here is that she’s upstairs.”

“That’s because she is,” you say. “I can’t possibly encourage this type of… behaviour with you. You’re her brother.”

“What if I wasn’t?” He hums, “Would you change your mind then?”

“Will you let me go if I tell you?” You ask, wanting to get out of this situation before anything bad happens.

“Yeah, I will.”

You sigh, meeting his gaze. And the sight of looking down at you, the flash of darkness in your eyes, it all sends Suna off a ledge. This must be what happens when he pokes the bear. There’s something behind your eyes, something that fucking pulls him in. That has him thinking this isn’t a joke, or a game anymore.

“If you weren’t my best friend's brother, then yes, I would change my mind.” You reply truthfully, “Honestly, if I were drunk enough, or bold enough, I would change my mind. I’d even risk saying that if Niki weren’t upstairs right now, I’d change my mind.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” Rintaro hums. “It’ll be a temporary fix, nothing serious. No one has to know.” He composes himself, trying to steer the conversation back to his control. He can’t show weakness.

He can’t show how much he wants it now.

“As much as I love temporary fixes,” you begin, “and the idea of sneaking around… I don’t think it’s the best idea.” Now you’re teasing him, running your hands down his flannel. He can’t poke the bear and not expect to get bitten.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this, you know you’ve been so back and forth, but you can’t help but find some fun in this situation. It’ll be like one prolonged drum roll, an ellipsis, something which implies more but is never finished or reveals an ending.

“Well sometimes we have to be selfish,” he whispers. The tension building up in his veins, blood, and mind. “And the best ideas aren’t always the smartest.” His hand moves to play with the ends of your shorts, the faint linger of his touch brushing against your thigh, up to your hips to the hem of your shorts.

“I shouldn’t.” Correction, you shouldn’t be the one to make the first move. If he wants this, he will make the first move – despite everything which was just said, you won’t stop him. There’s something electrifying about the light touches, the tension you helped escalate.

He wanted to play a game, and a game is what you’re giving him.

“You shouldn’t, but you can.” Rintaro mumbles, unbeknownst to the fact that you’ve managed to have him wrapped around your finger in a matter of seconds – of playing dumb – due to the simple trick of making him feel wanted.

“Lord knows I can, but what about Niki?”

“She can go fuck herself.” He says, immediately connecting his lips with yours in a heated kiss.

Kissing Rintaro is nothing like you’ve experienced, kissing him is like daring to run over knives or fire, it’s a rush of adrenaline caused by a strike of lightning. Kissing him is like knowing you’re doing something bad, but it’s too addictive to pull away. His eyes close, hands firmly placing themselves on your hips.

Rintaro pulls you closer to him, your hands tangling themselves in his hair. He gives in, kissing you with a growing desperation, arms snaking around your waist. Mouths linking together in a mess, tongue slipping past.

He can taste the remnants of alcohol on your tongue, and you can smell the weed that has attached itself onto his clothes.

He’s deep and urgent, pushed by the forces and temptation of a quick temporary fix, an illicit affair, and clandestine meeting. His hands travel down to your ass, underneath your shorts, holding the flesh in his hands.

His touch lingers down to your thighs, Rintaro lifts you up onto the counter. Your hands run down his bare chest, and he shudders at your touch. Cold fingertips trailing down his body, to then pull at the drawstrings of his sweats.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You know that Niki could come downstairs at any moment and see the position you’re currently in; legs wrapped around her older brother, his hands exploring his body, learning every curve and crevice. Entangled together, connected by a messy kiss fueled by boredom, and frustration.

Out of breath and completely intoxicated by the moment. Suna’s hand travels up, tugging down the tank top. Exposed to him, the chill of the night in the cold. He moves down, kissing your neck, throat, and the slope of your shoulders. Lips attaching themselves onto your chest, tongue placed flat against your nipple.

His breaths come in harder, faster. Your hands threaded in his hair, clinging to him in this ice-cold heat you’ve been placed in. Pulling at the roots, bringing him back up to your lips. Suna’s hand replaces his mouth, beginning to knead the flesh.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe out. He’s moving away from your lips, moving down to nibble and bite at the sensitive skin on your neck and jaw.

“But it feels good doesn’t it?” Rintaro hums against your neck, holding your body against his chest, trying to devour every piece of you he can. Loving the way you shudder at his touch, and the shortness of your breath. “I know you want me, because god knows, I want you. It’s only one night princess.”

He returns to hover over you, head tilted down as he uses his thumb and index finger to bring your chin up. Looking down at you with a sinful glint in his eyes, grinning at you like the devil. Almost obsessed with the seemingly innocent, wide eyed look in your eyes, slightly parted lips.

His thumb drags down your bottom lip, continuing to tilt your head up at him, keeping your gaze in place. “Come on, one night is not bad. Nothing is wrong with a little quick fix.”

“Well, I’d rather not risk my morals, and integrity for something quick.”

A flame ignites behind those eyes, a quirk of his eyebrow. “Whatever you say,” he says. Rintaro hoists you off the counter, your legs wrapped around his torso, as he carries you towards the couches. He throws you down onto the cushions, wraps his fingers around the bundled up fabric of your tank top and pulls it over your head.

Then he drops down to his knees, in front of you. He tugs down your shorts along with your underwear, leaving you completely exposed on the couches. Rintaro pushes your legs apart, “Keep them open for me.” He smiles, pulling your body closer to his face.

His tongue darts out, lips enveloping themselves around your clit. He uses a free hand aiding the stimulation. He’s devouring your cunt as if he’s never eaten before, as if he’s intoxicated by the feeling of the moment and the sinful act of going down on his younger sister's best friend out in the open on the couch.

Savouring your taste on his tongue, his fingers prodding your entrance.

Your back arches, throwing your head back. Chest rising and falling in shallow breaths, quiet and hushed whimpers escaping from your lips. One hand gripping onto the cushion behind you as the other pulls roughly on his hair. Hips bucking up, obsessed with the insatiable sensation of Rintaro’s tongue on your clit and fingers curling inside you.

Suna hooks your legs over his shoulders, diving deeper into your cunt. Willingly obliging to the fact you’re pushing him closer. At the twitch of your legs, Rintaro quickens his movements, wanting to milk you and push you towards your orgasm.

Whimpers and muffled moans, a strain of fuck, don’t stop, although the most motivating of them all is the pretty sound of his name slipping off your tongue. “Rin,” you say. A fire burning up in your abdomen, as he begins to leave a trail of sloppy kisses from your clit up to your stomach and chest.

In the absence of his tongue, his fingers move quickly against your clit – forceful movements – determined to have you reach your peak. Your hips jolt forward, lost in the haze of pleasure that succumbs you.

Eyes clenched shut and mouth agape, it’s a fucking sinful sight.

Suna reconnects his lips with yours in a sloppy makeout, drowning out your moans and taking them in as his own. A result of his fingers, you’re shivering under him, so needy and desperate. “Go on sweetheart,” he whispers. The pads of his fingers rubbing harshly against your sensitive clit.

Your nails dig into his back, forehead leaning against his shoulder as you feel yourself reach climax. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” breathing out, your body growing weak under his touch. Mind spinning from pleasure.

Strained whines, legs pushed back as he milks out your orgasm. Rintaro hovers over you, impressed by his own work and your finger and tongue fucked expression. He runs another finger through your folds, lapping up the cum and saliva.

Using his free hand, Suna grips the back of your head, tugging harshly at the roots of your hair as he forces you to look at him. Then forces his fingers past your lips and onto your tongue, “Suck.” He instructs. Reluctantly, your lips wrap around his fingers as he slowly pulls them from your mouth.

There you are, tired eyes, and completely vulnerable and exposed underneath hin. But the little smirk that appears on your lips. You sit up, pushing him back against the couch. Cocky as ever, Suna sits back, memorising the beautiful sight in front of him.

He watches you with lustful eyes as you work your way down his body, tugging down his sweats. Your hand wrapping around his dick, stroking it, pumping him. Rolling your wrist over the tip, milking out the precum.

“You got a rubber?”

“I’ll pull out,”

You shrug, placing a hand on his shoulders, pushing him down onto the couch and keeping him down. Lining his dick with your entrance, you lower yourself onto him. The sensation, and feeling, of your walls clenching around his dick sends him spiralling.

His head rolls back, hands reaching up to grip at your hips. You roll your hips, finding all the right places for you, and absolutely driving him insane. She begins to lift, setting up a steady rhythm. “Oh, fuck, you little tease.” Suna breathes out.

He has laboured breaths at the irresistible and mind-fucking feeling of you taking him in all so well, your tight little cunt that sends him off the edge. Getting to have you all, without a barrier. The rise and fall of your hips, bouncing on top of him. A hand reaching up to your chest to grab a tit, a thumb running over your nipple.

You grab his wrist and pin it back behind his head, “No touching.”

“We’ll see about that,” he groans. Quickly changing your positions, flipping you around until you're face down on the couch. Suna lifts your hips up, pushing down on your back to create an arch. He keeps a hand on the back of your head. He pushes his dick inside, causing you to intake a sharp breath. “What was that sweetheart?” He teases.

A firm hand placed on the side of your ass, as thrust into you. A quiet “fuck” sounds from his throat as he begins to fist your hair in his hand. He rolls his hips, roughly, forcefully pushing into you. Bottoming out to reach the deepest part of you.

Breath taken away from you, gripping onto the fabric of the couch. Back arching at an insane angle, “Ah,” you moan. He snaps his hips forward again, feeling weak and heavy from the current position, and the consistent thrusts coming from Suna.

His movements become harsher, rougher, as he pounds into you. He pulls your head back by your hair, leans forward until his chest is placed against your back. Suna connects your lips in a roush kiss, biting down on your bottom lip.

Although, he quickly disappears again, lost in the moment. His hands gripping onto your hips as he pulls you to him, matching his thrusts. You begin to lose any ounce of strength left in your body, letting your upper body lay slack on the couch.

Suna lands a slap on your ass, kneading the flesh as he continues to thrust into you from behind. “Oh, fuck,” he groans. “You feel so good,” he hums, “fuck, I want to see your pretty fucked out face.”

He pulls out, flips you around, hoisting your leg over his shoulder. He wraps a hand around your throat, basking in the way you grip onto his wrist. Looking at him with those half-lidded eyes, as he pushes into you. Loving the way your pussy sucks him in, loving the look of his dick moving in and out of your cunt.

He picks up the pace, eyes fixed on your chest and how they bounce given each forceful buck of his pelvis. “Faster,” you whimper, gripping onto his hair. “Fuck me,” you plead.

Suna pounds into you with relentless speed, and under him you’re falling apart. Becoming nothing more than a limp body that had been taken over by an overwhelming amount of stimulation and force. With the growing pit in your loins growing incredibly, the heel of your foot digging into his back. Dark vision growing blurry, mind clouding – blocking any thought or action, temporarily blocking your senses as you started to reach your peak.

Your pussy clenching around his dick, it sends Rintaro off a spiral, and he’s threatening to break. You’re close, so close, and all you need is one last push. His hips slam into you, body filling with pleasure as your orgasm rides out.

Suna quickly pulls out in time, cumming all over your stomach. He crashes down onto you, snaking an arm around your waist as he rests his head onto chest. Your hand brushing his hair, trying to regain your breath.

“So, how long are you going to be in town for?”

“Until graduation, why? Wanna do it again?”

“I’d like to hear those whimpers again.”

#✰ workie works #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu suna #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#suna rintarou #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna rintarou x you #suna rintaro fic #hq x reader #hq smut

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rin-may-1103 · 6 hours

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Badger Day Au (part two)

Previous | Next | Master Post

"Fourteen?" Aquaman repeats, turning his chair to face Danny. "Fourteen what? Days, weeks, months?"

Flash hissed like he was in pain, "Please don't say it's been fourteen months!"

Danny trailed his eyes away from the ceiling, away from the bothersome crack, and toward the single window in the room. He could just barely make out the Cassiopeia constellation. Its distinct W shape winked and flickered, drawing up a memory from a few loops into this whole mess. Tucker had wanted to comfort him, seeing as Danny had just broken down crying over how frustrated he was with everything.

The Ghost of Cassiopeia. Also known as IC 63, about 550 light years away.

A giant cloud of dust and gas. A nebula. Its ethereal glow reminded people of spirits they would see in haunted houses or fields. So they called it the ghost of Cassiopeia.

But it wasn't a ghost, it's simply hydrogen that's been bombarded with ultraviolet radiation from the nearby star. A blue giant called Gamma Cassiopeiae. It's also known as the center of the constellation. The light from the blue giant makes the majority of the nebula glow a vivid red. The blue around the edges is just light reflected off the dust within.

Tucker had joked that Danny should try and see how far he could get before the loop restarted. See if he could even get past Jupiter. Danny had just snorted and brushed his suggestion off. What was the point when he should be spending his time trying to fix the loop?

About six years in, Danny had given up and tried.

Eight months he had spent flying. He got further and further out into the void, surrounded by darkness and the beautiful stars in the distance to guide him. He never managed to make it past Pluto before he was brought back.

"Years," Danny confessed, his eyes still trained on the faraway stars.

"YEARS!?!" Superman cried, standing up so fast his chair was sent flying into the wall. Danny glanced back up at the crack, watching as it grew just a little larger, plaster dust sprinkling down like freshly fallen snow.

Sighing, Danny sat up and stared at the group. How many times has he had this conversation? How many times was he going to explain what was happening? How many times was he going to wake up in his bed just to restart all over again?

"Years," Danny repeated, "Fourteen years. Like I said, I've tried everything."

They sat in silence for a moment, just digesting his situation. Batman was standing still, his fists clenched tightly. Superman looked faint like he would pass out. Flash looked devastated.

Wonder Woman leaned forward, her brows furled in confusion, "Were you cursed, young one?"

"No, I checked. You checked. Heck, even Zatanna and Constantine have checked. I'm not cursed." Danny grumbled, slumping down to rest his head on the table.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to just curl up and sleep for the next however long. Wanted to hug Jazz and cry about how unfair it all was. Wanted to curl into his mother's side and cling until she made it all better. Hide behind his father until he knew it was safe.

but he couldn't.

Something always happened when he tried. If he stayed home from the very beginning of the day, the league would call him over and over again, convinced he was needed for the case Batman had. They even sent Flash over a few times just to search the city to drag him to the meeting.

(He was happy they hadn't figured out his civilian identity yet, but man was it hard to watch as Flash stuck his face into every nook and cranny around town yelling his name. Danny's lost count of how many times the man got overshadowed.)

If he managed to convince them that he was in a loop, then they found it would be safer for him to stay up on the watchtower. where they could keep an eye on him while searching for a way to break it.

Or, if he managed to convince them he was sick or something and they left him alone, Vlad would start acting up. Jack would call him on the phone to cancel Maddie's meeting with him because Danny was 'sick'. If he convinces Maddie to go and stay home with his dad, then Jack somehow opens the portal long enough for one of his rogues to slip through.

It just never ends. Everything he's tried ends with him having to go ghost and fight. The calmest day he's managed to have ended with Box ghost blasting the portal doors open so he could give him a homemade lunch from his wife, which then led the ghost to find Jack's new weapon box and go ballistic because of his obsession.

after that, he gave up spending time with his parents and focused more on his friends and Jazz. This was equally disastrous.

so, his safest option was to go to the meeting and stay with the league.

Glancing up, Danny watched as the time slowly changed on the clock; six twenty-nine, tick, tick, tick, six thirty.

Sighing, Danny sat up and held his hand out, making eye contact with Batman. He might as well get the day going, no use in wallowing in self-pity. He's done that plenty already.

"I already figured out what the cult wanted to do, we just need to figure out where their next meeting is. I'll fill you guys in on the rest." Danny added, wiggling his fingers in the hope it would make Batman move faster.

Batman sighed and handed him the folder. Once Danny had the folder, Batman sat down to listen to his report intently.

Flipping the file open, Danny grabbed the first page and showed it to the group, ignoring how a copy showed up on the big screen behind Batman. (again, why use paper if he was just going to project it?)

"This is the result of the cult's last meeting, two weeks ago. as you can see, the ground has been scorched and the ritual circle permanently carved into the cement." Tossing the paper and ignoring it as Flash scrambled to catch it, Danny grabbed the next couple of pages.

Holding up the seventy missing person reports, Danny placed them on the table and separated them into four different piles. "After some digging, Batman was able to figure out the pattern between the missing people. This group," Danny pointed to the one on the left, "consists of organ donors who were anemic."

pointing to the pile on the right, Danny continued, "This group is made up of meta-humans who have powers related to the elements. they also all happen to have more than one piercing, though Batman didn't really figure out if that had an impact on whether they were chosen or not..."

Pointing to the northern pile, Danny separated the top seven pages. "while everyone in this pile has some relation to an ancient and powerful witch from the 1500s, these seven are the only ones who still share her 'family' name. I'm not sure exactly how this affects the cult's motives, Batman hadn't shared that with me in all the loops so far."

Danny glared at Batman in annoyance, he didn't care if there was a good reason or not. Without fail, in each loop that Danny's made it through where Batman makes the connection; he would refuse to tell Danny about it.

Rolling his eyes at Batman's unwavering apathy, Danny continued, "The last pile consists of people who have been dead at some point in their lives. whether it be just a few seconds or a few weeks."

passing the reports around, Danny pulled the next page from the file. "Flash and Constantine were able to connect the past locations of the cult gatherings. Constantine figured out there was a specific magic signature that he could follow, so he had Flash drag him around the world to map the locations."

tapping the table, Danny selected the world map. Glancing at the paper he had pulled out, Danny marked the places with a red dot. Then he marked the places Constantine found in blue. Looking up, Danny found the league staring at him.

"What?" Danny huffed, shoving the hologram away from him. Batman grabbed it and started to examine it.

"So, do we need Constantine for this?" Green Lantern asks, scratching his head.

Shrugging, Danny tossed the folder over to Wonder Woman. "You can call him if you want, but he won't get here until noon. He's in the house of mystery dealing with a pixie infestation."

"pixie infestation?" Superman asks, turning to look over to Zatanna. Zatanna reached into her jacket and handed him a pamphlet, not turning away from watching Danny with curious eyes.

"Anyway, like I was saying. the cult's been going around taking all these people and using them in their rituals."

"you said you knew what they were trying to do, what was it?" Batman asked with a noticeable frown.

Sighing, Danny pinched his nose. "they've been trying to summon Pariah Dark."

"The ghost king!?!?" Zatanna squawked, slamming her hands onto the table.

"yeah, that bastard," Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. The cult hadn't been successful for all fourteen years now, so Danny wasn't too worried about it. But still... If something, anything really, changed just the slightest; would they succeed? Would they drag Prariah out of his sarcophagus and let him lose on the living?

Danny's already had to face him once, he didn't know if he could do it again. The Fenton ecto-skeleton suit had been ruined last time, to the point dad hadn't even tried to fix it.

"Bastard?" Aquaman repeated, eyes narrowed, "You speak as if you've met him before."

"I have," Danny admitted, "and I will again if we don't do something about the cult." What if this is the loop the cult succeeded? what if it's the next one, or the one after that? could Danny even do anything to prevent it?

Zatara sat down with a heavy thump, her eyes widening in shock. Danny lifted his brow, wondering what was wrong with her. She hadn't acted like this any other time? what was different? had he said something he hadn't last time? hmm, something to think about later.

"back to the case," Danny shrugged, turning to gesture at the hologram of the world. "we were able to narrow down the cult's next location to about seven hundred places. I was able to check off about six hundred and thirty these last few loops. That leaves about seventy places they could be."

Danny used a yellow dot to select the seventy places he still needed to check.

"um," Flash started, nervously glancing between Danny and the globe. "you just highlighted the whole grand cannon and all of Alaska... and the Himalayas.... and the-"

"Yep," Danny cut in, "Like I said, I checked off all the others. These are the last seventy I still need to check. I haven't before because it's a lot of ground to cover. I was hoping I'd catch a break and find the cult before I had to check all those places, but nope. The fruitloops just had to make it difficult.

"oh," Flash winced, "do, do you want me to check them out?"

sighing, Danny leaned back in his chair, "I would love to have you check them out, but you need a magic user who knows what they're looking for to go with you. it's why we haven't found them yet, it's taking forever."

"Oh," was the only response he got.

"you know what we are looking for?" Zatara asks, finally getting over whatever had surprised her.

"yeah, it's hard to explain. I'll have to bring you or the others to a previous place and show you."

"hmm, alright. after the meeting, why don't you bring me so that at least one more person can help start looking, until, john is freed up at noon?" she suggests, tilting her head to the side.

"sounds good with me," Danny shrugged. it's not like it'll hurt to have her looking around, heck, they might even get lucky and she'll find them.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #justice league #dp x dc crossover #Danny is stuck in a Groundhog Day kinda situation #and he would like to be let out now please #Batman Is very worried #so is everyone else #Badger Day Au #The Badger Day Au #part two

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jmliebert · 1 day

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♡♡♡ domestic bliss with gale ♡♡♡

a lot of gentle touches and sincere "I love you"s

Gale makes you breakfast almost everyday (obviously)

sometimes when the mood takes him, he'll even do something like heart-shaped pancakes and despite it being cliche you can't help but feel your heart soften by the gesture

on special mornings, he'll even bring breakfast to you in bed, a tray laden with your favourites (he knows you very well)

and let me just say he always leaves the kitchen tidy. he may be a little messy sometimes, his (and now yours too) place may be a little cluttered, but he's a tidy wizard and clean up after himself period !!!

while we are talking about the kitchen....you had steamy sex over the counter more times that you can count

during the day, when he's immersed in his studies, you often bring him a steaming cup of coffee or a tasty snack

you sneak behind him and start massaging his shoulders, and he groans at the touch with appreciation, tenderly kissing your hands

but you're not always as merciful; seeing him hunched over his books, his brow furrowed in concentration does something for you; makes you want to melt away his stress with different type of distraction...and he's so easy to tease :))

but what I want to talk about more is simple moments you share together; like when Gale prepares a meal you hum a tune and wash the dishes, stealing little kisses from him that leave you both smiling;

you hug him from behind when he's cutting the vegetables and it feels so good to feel warmth of his body and the rhythm of his heart;

you can't resist giving his cute, small ass a cheeky squeeze, which makes him jump and laugh and then tutting and calling you a bad girl with his index finger pointed into the air (he wants to sound angry but fails)

and you can always feel his gaze on you filled with a quiet, unwavering affection

your dinners are often a candlelit affairs, filled with soft smiles and meaningful conversation. as the sun slowly fades over the horizon, you sit on the balcony, basking in the golden glow, sharing quiet moments over books (you read a lot of books at this household)

sometimes you talk about everything and nothing (gale often ranting at his students) and sometimes you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder while he still reads, or you fall asleep on his lap, as he gently massages your scalp, his fingers threading through your hair making you all cozy and cared for

sometimes during the night Gale is stargazing with you, pointing out constellations and sharing the mythology behind them, with knowing hands he gently guides your body as you peer through the telescope

I can also imagine you two spending your evenings by the fireplace with glasses of wine in hand and an enchanted piano playing softly in the background. Gale arm wrapped securely around you, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin unconsciously

Gale often runs hot bath for you, joining you in the warm water. his hands move in soft circles, washing your hair, his lips leaving tender kisses on the back of your neck and not soon after you feel his growing erection poking at your back

you brush teeth side by side, and Gale watches in awe as you go through your skincare routine, simply enchanted. he loves the scent of your lotion and can’t resist leaning in to inhale the fragrance of your skin, murmuring compliments that make you blush

then you are slipping into comfy pyjamas <33 your sheets are always fresh and clean (not a single crumb on your mattress!) all ready for your nightly cuddles and whispered conversations

in bed you both read (I said before; a lot of reading)

Gale never forgets to kiss your forehead goodnight

sometimes you’re the little spoon, snuggled safely in his arms, other times he’s nestled against you, seeking your warmth. and often, you simply sleep with your head resting on his chest or his on yours, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your hand

Gale, who has spent so long alone, quickly adapts to sharing his life with you. you fit right in, he finds some peace when he's with you; quickly he can't imagine you not being here with him

when you are not around he finds it difficult to sleep, often spending the night in his study until dawn, the shadows under his eyes deepening with each hour of your absence

he's miserable without you :((

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about gale ♡here♡

I'm sick rn, in my bed all day long (I'm losing my mind) and needed some gale fluff to feel better so!

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deanssluvr · 1 day

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thought you were made for me

pairing: brother’s bsf!Joost Klein x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is my first fic so please be nice. I didn’t really expect to write more than 500 words lmao. Also, this isn’t proofread sorry. I plan on writing a part 2 for this.

It had already been a long and tough week. With just finishing the last of your final exams the week prior. Each exam felt like it took years off of your life. And the week itself felt as though it would never end. Not even mentioning the multiple all-nighters you pulled to study before. But when it was finally over you were beyond ecstatic. And now you got to finally be at home and relax.

It was relatively quiet morning. You had decided to stay in the comfort of your blanket for a while longer before deciding to head down to the kitchen. There you were greeted by your brother Ethan and his best friend Joost. They were making breakfast. Well, it was just your brother cooking and Joost waiting patiently. Ever since Joost finished touring, he’d been spending a lot of time at your house. Spending multiple nights in your guest room. Your parents never really minded because he was nice and respectful. Usually, they’re in your brother’s room playing video games or out doing something. You never really got the chance to see him a lot since you were off to college. But you were hoping that would change now that you were home.

“Good morning.” Joost smiled softly. Ethan turned away from the stove briefly to tell you good morning and offered you breakfast. You nodded and turned back Joost. He was sipping a cup coffee and the steam was slightly fogging up his glasses. He took them off and set them on the counter beside him.

“Good morning Joost.” You returned the smile. He moved next to you from where he was standing.

“And how are you this morning?” he asked in a low tone. His voice was still laced with sleep.

“I’m good. Just glad to be back home. How are you this morning.” You looked up at him and through tired eyes.

“Better now,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. It caught you off guard. Was he flirting with you? Before you can finish that thought your brother hands you both a plate of food. You thanked him and they walk out of the kitchen to the dining room. Leaving you to your thoughts.

—

Later on that day, you called your best friends. They discussed with you their plans with their newfound freedom. You were shocked at their ideas. Party here and bar hop there. You thought they were just as exhausted as you. The idea of getting wasted as a celebration wasn’t your favorite idea. You just wanted to catch up on sleep.

“But we’ve been doing nothing but staying in our dorms for finals. We NEED to go out,” she stated.

“I know. I know. But maybe we could do something a bit more laid back. Like the movies or that festival that’s in town.” I practically pleaded with them. But it was no use. They weren’t changing their minds, and I was outvoted two to one. The conversation shifted back to their ideas for celebration for the next few days.

After agreeing to meet up this weekend, you said your goodbyes to your friends and hung up the phone. But quickly after your brother texts you.

hey Joost has a concert tonight. i have an extra ticket. wanna go with me?

You thought about it for a good moment. You just wanted to get some extra sleep tonight, but on the other hand, you haven’t spent much time with your brother since you left for college. And now is a better time than ever to make up for lost time. Also, you just wanted another excuse to see Joost.

ofc sounds like fun

it’s tonight at 8. i’ll pick you up at 7

You texted him “okay” before setting your phone back down, and finished making yourself lunch.

—

As leaned over the sink, you checked your makeup one last time in the mirror. You used your nail to fix your lipstick. You stepped back to look over your overall outfit and decided you were happy with the outcome. You sprayed a bit of your favorite perfume on yourself. Checking the time you realized you were ready a bit early, so you sat in your living room. You started scrolling through Instagram as you waited. Then a notification popped up in your phone.

hey i’m outside.

You quickly checked your appearance once last time in a nearby mirror and checked your purse to make sure you had everything. When you felt satisfied with everything you grabbed your keys and left the house.

The ride to the venue was relatively smooth. You talked about what you’d miss in each other’s lives. He explained to you how he just found a new job as a bartender at a new bar downtown. He also told you how he was saving up for a new place. You told him that you were really happy for him. When he asked about you, you told him about how you just finished up finals week and now you finally have time off. He gave you a small chuckle and congratulated you.

—

The outdoor venue was packed that night and people were trying to rush to the front. You’re glad your brother was there as he kept a secure grip on you and was able to push you both to the barricades near the stage. It was extremely humid that night with a faint smell of weed and cigarette smoke clogging the air.

The lights dimmed slightly and you heard a beat starting to play over the speakers. You could feel the anticipation from the crowd and it made you even more excited as you leaned forward on the barricade. Then Joost ran on stage. Blue flashing lights engulfed him as he started performing and the crowd, including yourself, began jumping to the beat.

Once the energy died down slightly, you were able to take him in. His outfit was really simple tonight. He was in a white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up giving us a glimpse at the tattoos that littered his arms, a pair of baggy jeans, and his black thick-rimmed glasses that were fogging up every so often. Something was enticing about him and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

You had never heard his music before, but that didn’t stop you from letting loose. Everyone around you on the other hand, including your brother, is yelling the lyrics word for word. Joost takes notice of this and walks further downstage towards your brother, acknowledging him and smiling. Now you were able to get a good look at his face. He is even prettier up close you thought to yourself. Then he looks over to you, holding eye contact for just a split second before giving you a wink and continuing his performance. You were in utter disbelief at the encounter. You honestly thought you had imagined it. You were pulled back to reality when the loud beat of the next song started pouring into your ears.

—

“Did you enjoy the concert?” your brother asked as you both walked to his car. You were still feeling the buzz of the concert. It felt like the night shouldn’t end here. Maybe because you wanted to see Joost again.

“Yes, I did! His music is so good. I had an amazing time.” You left out the part about him winking at you, but you felt that you should keep that bit of information to yourself.

“Well, I’m glad that you had a good time.” His phone chimed with a notification. As he checked it you decided to check your phone. Your friends were blowing up your phone about the concert. They loved Joost so they wanted to know how it went. As you texted them back, your brother spoke.

“Hey, Joost is having a little after-party at a club nearby. He’s asking if the both of us wanted to go.“ You considered it for a moment. You did want to see him again. But when you did what would you say? Maybe he does this to all of his fans. Your brother senses your indecisiveness and tries to help.

“You don’t have to go. I would understand. I mean you’re not close to him. I just asked because he said he wanted to see you.” You were surprised at his request.

“No. I want to. I would love to go.” You stated as you gave him a reassuring smile. He nodded as he started the car towards the new destination.

—

Your eyes scan over the scene. A DJ was blasting music over the speakers, but it was more near the dance floor. The place was dim with small, warm lights keeping tables and the lit. You follow your brother as he leads you to a table that seats a few guys. When you got close enough you realized it was Joost and who you assumed were a few of his friends. He loudly acknowledged your brother as they shared an embrace. They share a few words before he sees you.

“Hey. I’m glad you came.” he hugged you and you embraced him back. He smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, but it didn’t bother you. You liked it. You both lingered for what was probably a moment too long before he let go. You looked over to your brother and saw that he went to talk to the other guys at the table. Leaving you with Joost.

His eyes slowly scanned over you as he took in your appearance. Once his eyes reached yours, you noticed a different look in his eyes. Almost like hunger. Being under his gaze almost made you feel nervous.

“Come sit with me and let me pour you a drink.” He didn’t give you much of a choice as he grabbed your wrist lightly, his fingers brushing against your palm. He guided you to sit with him in the booth. He pulled you close enough to the point that your thighs were touching. You liked around and realized it was just the two. You scan the place and see your brother and his other friends have run off to the bar. Probably to do shots you thought to yourself.

You focused your attention back to Joost who was carefully pouring you both a drink. Though it was hard to see, a small dim light slightly lit up his face allowing you to still see his face. His hair was even messier than it was at the concert but he still looked amazing. You notice his strikingly delicate features and his captivating eyes that seem to sparkle under the light. Your eyes then trace down his arms and you take note of the tattoos that are there.

“Here.” He pulls you out of your trance by handing you a glass with brown liquor in it. You take the glass from him, your finger faintly brushing his. You didn’t drink much and when you did it was mainly vodka. Nonetheless, you drank it anyway. He watched as you took a sip and smiled when you seemed to enjoy it. He drank some of his own before turning to you.

“Did you enjoy tonight’s show?” He leaned in closer making sure you heard his question.

“Yes, I did. Your music is really good. I wish I had discovered your music sooner.” Even with how dark it is you notice the smile he gave you.

“I'm happy you had a good time. You know I know we don’t know each other that well, but I would love for us to get closer.” Once again he leaned in, but this time it was in your ear. His warm breath against your ear sent goosebumps across your skin. As he leaned back to look at you, he stopped just inches away from your face. You can faintly feel his breath against your lips. You swear can see his eyes glance at your lips for a second before looking back into your eyes. His expression changed again into what you saw when he first greeted you. Hunger. His eyes were focused on yours and it made you nervous. The air suddenly changed. It felt more thicker and warmer.

“Let’s go dance.” He offered his hand as he slid out of the booth. You smiled and took his hand. He guided you to the crowd on the dance floor and pushed you both near the center. There was a dark blue light that engulfed everyone. The beat took over you as you started dancing. You let your hips away to the rhythm. You felt Joost’s hands find their way to your waist, and he pulled you closer to him.

You continue to dance against him, grinding on him. His hands started to explore your body as they found themselves on your hips, and then slowly went down to the hem of your short skirt. His fingers found their way under and he started to rub the soft skin. His head found its way closer to the crook of your neck. You feel his warm breath on your collarbone as he speaks.

“Ik heb je nodig (I need you)” He breathes into your neck and it sends shivers down your spine. With the light grip he has on you, he turns around so now you’re facing him. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him closer to you. Your faces are inches away from each other. The air around you is hot and thick. You look into his eyes and see the same familiar look as before. Even under the lights, you can see his pupils blown with lust.

You don’t know if it was the alcohol but you felt bold. So you pulled him into a kiss which he happily accepted. His hands moved from the hem of your skirt up to the curve of your ass where he squeezed lightly. The kiss became more intense as you both realized how hungry you were. Your hands found their way to his hair and you pulled gently at the white locks. He pulled away only to say something.

“We should take this somewhere else.” He suggested between pants. You nod quickly. He takes your hand and guides you off the dance floor. Your head was buzzing and you felt as though you were caught in a haze. He leads you back to the table and you see your brother and some of his friends there with a few girls. Joost let go of your hand only for a moment when telling your brother that you were both leaving early. He told him you weren’t feeling good. Surprisingly he wasn’t suspicious of anything and only told you both to drive safe. With that, you and Joost make your way to his car. You both get settled in before he looks over at you.

“My place or yours liefje (sweetheart)”

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein x fem!reader

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superprofesh · 3 days

Text

The Five Times Colt Seavers Almost Kisses You (and the One Time He Does) — Part 4

Pairing: Colt Seavers x reader

Description: The fourth time Colt Seavers almost kisses you — on the brink of a promise he knows he can't afford to make.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.2k

Tag List: @strangedeerconnoisseur, @icantwaittoliveandlearn, @moonlightandstarshimmer, @chemococktailonthehouse, @1word, @itzjustj-1000, @k-l-a-w-s, @hotdogbread23

Author’s Note: I've been blown away by how kind you all have been about this fic, and I'm so glad you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it! We've got two parts to go, and they only get better from here :) Thank you for all the support, and let me know what you think of this chapter!!

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It’s five o’clock in the morning, and Colt Seavers has already been standing in the misty parking lot for two hours when he finally sees your car pulling in the entrance.

The last twelve hours have been absolute torture for him. One minute, he was walking into the crowded club to drop off some equipment with the stunt coordinator; the next, he was sharing space at the bar with you, trapped under your spell despite all his vows that he wouldn’t keep pushing this flirty thing you’ve been sharing.

He’s been conflicted for months now, knowing that his feelings for you are only getting deeper but also knowing that a relationship with him is the last thing you need. No matter how hard he tries to be noble for you, he just can’t get free from the way you enrapture him so completely — the way he thinks of you every moment of the day, dreams of a future where you could feel about him the way he feels about you.

And he honestly thought you didn’t — that you couldn’t — until last night. When he completely wrecked everything, including your heart.

Colt squeezes his eyes shut again, remembering the way he pulled back from you just a few seconds before your lips would have met. In the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do: cut it off, laugh it off, let it go before he betrayed how absolutely captivated he is by everything you do.

He keeps telling himself that he did the right thing. That he’s no good for you, and you’re better off not getting confused by his overwhelming feelings for you. But he keeps seeing your face — the way all the light in your eyes vanished, the way your shoulders slumped and your expression wilted. He had no idea there were actual, genuine feelings on your part. And for him?

Colt has spent the last twelve hours deliberating how to handle this situation. He knows he has to make it right with you, but the question is how. His inner monologue has quite the speech ready for him. You can’t even THINK about confessing your feelings. You’re the one who has no future, no big dreams, maybe not even much longer to live! You have no right to force that kind of life on anyone. Especially if you really care.

After hours of tormented decision-making, Colt has come to the same conclusion he always does: he can’t let you know how he feels about you. He’s got to apologize, make sure you know he didn’t mean to hurt you, let you think he’s just been flirting for fun, maybe even rekindle your injured friendship. But he absolutely cannot let you know he’s in love with you.

And he is, isn’t he? He wouldn’t have waited with bated breath in the parking lot for two hours if he wasn’t madly, hopelessly, irremediably in love with you.

Colt has planned this conversation thousands of times since last night, but the only thing he can choke out when you climb out of your car and start toward the studio is, “Hey.”

You glance up at him in surprise, clearly less than pleased to find him hanging around the parking lot so early. His heart tightens at the sight of your pale face, the dark circles under your eyes betraying what was probably a sleepless night. “Hey,” you respond emotionlessly.

“Do you have a second?” Colt asks. His voice isn’t quite as strong as he hoped, but the sight of you is sending jolts of electricity through his veins.

You look to the side, pursing your lips and injecting a hint of coldness into your voice that he has never heard before. “Honestly, Colt, no offense,” you say plainly, “but I don’t really want to talk right now.”

Colt presses his lips together, knowing he’s the reason for this uncharacteristic coldness. “Believe me, I understand,” he blurts out, “but I’ve got to talk to you about last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you shoot back, fixing your stare on him again. Behind the coldness in your eyes is a deep sorrow that twists his heart. “I misread the signals, I overthought it, it’s not a big deal. You don’t need to explain anything.”

“Yes, I do,” he insists. “I messed up big time. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since last night, and I have to get this off my chest, okay? You don’t have to say anything.” He knows he sounds desperate, but he’s past caring. “Please, just hear me out and let me explain.”

You hold his stare, unrelenting, unforgiving. He loves you for it. “Fine.”

Colt releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, overwhelmed with relief that you’re even willing to listen to him. His biggest worry all night was that you wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t let him make things right.

He plunges right in, knowing it will be messy but not caring. “Listen, I’m really bad at this, but I’m going to give it my best go. These past few months that I’ve known you… it’s been really nice. You’re amazing to be around, and I always feel better after I’ve hung out with you. You’ve honestly been the best thing about this shoot.”

Your expression doesn’t change, but Colt can feel the iciness in your gaze softening ever so slightly. It gives him the courage to press on, even though he knows what he’s about to say is going to devastate himself.

“The thing is,” he continues, heart in his throat, “I’ve been so caught up in just… flirting and messing around, that I haven’t paid attention to how it might affect you. I haven’t been paying attention to the signals either.”

You furrow your brow at him. “What are you saying?”

Colt, you are the worst at this, man.

“I’m saying… I’m really sorry that I hurt your feelings last night. I’ve been replaying it over and over in my mind, and I can’t get past the way you looked at me when I pulled away and laughed everything off. Just, the look in your eyes and the way you looked like I had let you down — it’s been killing me.”

Your expression finally softens, and Colt hates himself for the words that are coming out of his mouth. “I thought this was just a fun flirtation between friends and that it would be better to keep any physical stuff out of it. I didn’t know there was anything on your side. Honestly. Not until I saw how much it hurt you for me to just… act like it meant nothing.”

There it is again — that hint of betrayal in your eyes. Now that Colt knows you care for him, his decision to “do the right thing” suddenly seems like the most gut-wrenching, agonizing thing he’s ever done.

It’s all I can do. I have nothing to offer, nothing to make a relationship worth the pain it would cause. I love you, and that’s why I won’t tell you.

Your brow is still lined with confusion, trying to parse out his real meaning among the confusion of words. “But you’re still saying… it didn’t mean anything to you.”

This is killing him. “Of course it meant something to me,” Colt blurts out before he can stop himself completely. He tries to amend it. “Man, I am so bad at this. What I’m trying to say is… I would never have even started a flirtation with you if I knew it would hurt you. Please believe me when I say I would never, ever, in a gazillion years want to do anything to hurt you or make you feel like I don’t care about your feelings. I should have been more sensitive and realized that I can’t just… lead you on without it mattering.”

Lead you on. As if I didn’t mean every word I’ve ever said to you. As if I wouldn’t die for you right now.

You nod, pursing your lips again with a clearer, more determined look in your eyes. “So, just so we’re clear,” you say slowly, “there’s nothing going on? All this flirting and hanging out and almost-kissing — it’s just been for kicks?”

“No, no, not just for kicks,” he backtracks immediately. Even when he’s trying to be noble, he can’t betray your trust that far. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What did you mean, Colt?” He can hear the genuine confusion in your voice. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

Colt takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he tries to focus on the right thing to say. “I’m just trying to tell you that I am so, so sorry for anything I’ve done to hurt you. I’ve been stupid and insensitive and awful, and I wish there was a way I could make it up to you. I just…” He opens his eyes, fixes them on yours so you know he’s telling the truth. “I couldn’t let this go without making it right with you. No matter what, you mean a lot to me, and the thought of losing your friendship honestly makes me miserable. Please just tell me I haven’t messed this up beyond repair.”

Please tell me I haven’t lost your trust completely. Please tell me I haven’t damaged the person I love most beyond repair.

You stare him down for what feels like an eternity, your discerning gaze burning holes into him. Finally, you sigh, seeming to come to a decision. “No, you haven’t,” you tell him at last. “I mean, I’m still trying to process everything and sort it all out, but… it means a lot that you wanted to have this conversation.” A note of humor slips into your voice, and the twinkle in your eyes makes a very welcome reappearance. “I mean, you waited for me in the parking lot like a stalker, so that says something. Not sure what.”

Colt laughs out loud at that, all the intense pressure of the night lessening with your words. “I thought about camping outside your hotel, but I thought it might be a little much.”

“Yeah, it would have been,” you agree, scuffing your shoes on the pavement.

Colt feels like the weight of the entire world has been lifted off his shoulders, but he knows he has to keep handling this the right way if he doesn’t want to risk hurting you again.

“So, are we okay?” he asks sincerely.

You nod, smoothing your hair back and closing your eyes while you think about your response. “Yeah. Yeah, we are. Just… getting some closure and some straight-shooting takes a lot of stress out of this.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Colt agrees. “I’m just sorry it took me so long to shoot it straight with you.”

If you can really call this shooting straight.

You shake your head, raising your eyes to meet his again. “No, I should have been more upfront, too,” you admit. “It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

Colt’s first reaction is to argue, to insist that you haven’t done a single thing wrong, that this whole tangle has been caused by his inability to let go of the feelings he has for you, but he knows it’s best to let that go. Better to end on a positive note.

“Friends?” he asks tentatively.

“Friends.” You grin at him, obviously as relieved as he is to have mended your relationship.

Great, just friends again. Exactly what we wanted. Colt elects to ignore his inner monologue this time.

With the tension lifted at last, you heave a grand sigh and nudge his shoulder in the old familiar way, heading in the direction of the studio.

“So, where are you off to?” Colt asks you, falling in step beside you.

“Train station set,” you reply lightly. “Filming for that scene is supposed to start next week, so I’m scrambling trying to get everything finished. It’s the biggest set I’ve ever created from scratch, so it’s been a serious challenge.”

Colt grins down at you, nudging your shoulder with his the same way you just did. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing,” he assures you, meaning every word of it. “Your sets always are.”

You grin back up at him, your cheerfulness infectious. “What about you? Any big stunts today?”

“Nah, just rehearsing some choreography for a fight scene. Easier schedule for the rest of this week.”

“That’s good,” you respond. The art trailer, empty in these early morning hours, is coming into sight now. “Maybe you can stop throwing yourself off moving vehicles for awhile.”

Colt smirks. “Yeah, that’s the plan. Unless something crazy happens on my way to the gas station or something.”

“Oh, sure. You never know with a Citgo.”

The two of you share a laugh, and suddenly everything feels back to normal. Maybe it can never be completely normal again, but after the fears that kept Colt awake all night, this feels like he’s just stepped into paradise after being cast out.

“Hey, bad guys come in all shapes and sizes,” Colt informs you, feeling his sense of humor coming back full force. “Sometimes it’s a hard-boiled gangster chasing you on top of a transfer truck; sometimes it’s a plastic bag flying off the pavement and around your head.”

“Maybe that’s the real reason why recycling is so important,” you quip. A few more steps, and the two of you are standing at the door to the art trailer, the pink rays of sunrise beginning to touch the tops of your heads. “Well, here’s my stop. Thanks again for talking with me. It really means a lot.”

Colt nods, a genuine smile crossing his face. “I couldn’t let things be strained between us. Who would patch together the props I destroy in every take?” he teases you.

“Who would destroy the handmade props I painstakingly create every day?”

“Publicity stunts wouldn’t have been the same without you to critique my color coordinating choices.”

“I was really going to miss you sneaking me a packet of Mini Muffins every morning.”

“Consider the Mini Muffins sneaked.”

You grin at that, and Colt’s heart speeds up a few beats just at the sight. He’s glad to have this image — your captivating smile, framed by the pastel light of the sunrise, happiness sparkling in your eyes — to replace the one from last night.

You don’t say a word before turning to open the door to the art trailer, clearly needing some space, so Colt turns to walk away, but the door doesn’t close behind you. When he turns back to face you, you’re lingering in the doorway, an unreadable expression on your face. Colt hesitates, not sure what you expect from him, but he’s cut off by you closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around his neck.

What what what what what what WHAT WHAT WHAT—

Colt isn’t sure this is the best idea, but he certainly isn’t going to make the mistake of pushing you away again. Instead, he lets his arms fold around your waist, pulling you close against him. Every muscle in his body aches to hold you as tight as he can, and it takes all his self-control not to lift his head up a few inches, to whisper in your ear, You’re every sweet dream I’ve ever had. You’re everything I hoped love would turn out to be.

You don’t make a move to release him, and suddenly Colt realizes: this is your way of letting go of him. You’re taking one last moment to savor this closeness before you resign yourself to a simple friendship and an inevitable goodbye. With that realization, Colt grips you tighter, lets his face rest in the crook of your neck while he breathes you in.

The sun keeps rising, and still you hold onto each other as if this is the last time you’ll ever see each other.

Colt feels your arms loosen their hold around his neck slightly, and he takes that as a cue to release the death-grip he has around your waist. He didn’t realize he could feel your pounding heart against his chest until you’ve pulled back a few inches.

He’s surprised, though, when you don’t get go of him completely. You let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, your eyes searching his own for some answer that you can’t quite grasp. It’s as if you know he’s holding something back — as if you can tell how deeply he feels for you just by the way he stays absorbed in the warmth of your gaze.

A sad smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you lift one hand to rest on the side of Colt’s face. His heart instantly starts rocketing again, and all he can imagine is that you’re finally going to go for the kiss that has almost happened three times now. He holds his breath, knowing that he can’t trust himself not to seize you and kiss you with all the passion he’s holding inside.

Your fingertips trace the side of his face slowly, intimately, traveling over his cheekbone, down his jaw, right under his lips. His skin feels like it’s burning from the inside, incinerating him with heat. He knows he’s still holding your waist too tight for someone who is “just a friend,” but holding you is the only thing keeping him sane right now.

Your gaze slips down for a fraction of a second, landing on the spot where your fingers are resting tenderly. Colt’s hands are shaking from the tension. All he can think of is how close your lips are to his, how effortless it would be to lean forward a few inches and live out the daydream he’s had a thousand times before. He doesn’t even blink, unwilling to miss a second of being this close to you again.

Finally, finally, you take mercy on him and lift your fingers from his face, your own expression betraying the level of affection you feel. Right now, all Colt wants to do is close his eyes and let you trail your fingers over his face for the rest of his life, but your touch is already gone, and he finally feels like he can breathe again.

You take an unhurried step back, your eyes never leaving his. Your hands slowly slide down from his shoulders, his letting go of your waist at the same time. The distance between you suddenly feels miles wide, and it’s quite obvious that both of you want to close it again.

But neither of you does.

“Okay,” you murmur, eyes drifting across his face. The early morning sunlight is dancing through the strands of your hair, alighting on the dust particles in the air to create a mystical glow around your face. “I should go.”

Colt barely even registers his own response, still so dazed from the past few moments. “Me, too.”

You take a step inside the art trailer door, eyes hazy. “See you later?”

“Of course.”

You give him one last soft smile and walk into the art trailer. But Colt stands in the light of the rising sun for a long time after you’ve gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 5

#i think i need a minute to recover after writing this #every chapter i think “well that's as good as it gets”#but i keep thinking of new stuff :O #fanfiction #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers fanfiction #original #colt seavers #the fall guy #ryan gosling #ryan gosling fanfiction #the five times colt seavers almost kisses you (and the one time he does)

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cherriesformatt · 3 days

Text

birds of a feather || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: reader is having a hard time but she knows she can come back to her safe place every time

warnings: none just fluff and bit of sadness

word count: 1,3k

a/n: hope you like it kinda put my heart in it

🍒

Have you ever just thought that you are done? Like you can't deal with shit anymore and there is nothing that will give you motivation? I felt like this for a long time until I met Matt. Matt started to just be there for me. First as a friend then as a partner. We met in high school when both of us started ditching class because we didn't feel comfortable in school. We would just give each other weird glances and walk different ways until our paths met in the park. We would spent hours hanging out by the Fresh Pond. We talked and had lunch together few times a week. I was waiting for this time because I wasn't able to talk to anyone like I could talk to Matt and I knew he understood me.

I didn't realize I loved him until he came to my house to say goodbye when he and his brothers were moving to LA. I wasn't mad at him, he was chasing his dreams with two most important people for him. They were already successful on YouTube by that time so I understood they wanted more. I was proud of him but I was also dying inside. I didn't want to tell him about my feelings also knowing he broke up with his girlfriend to only focus on their career.

As it turned out not only I realized the strong feeling for one another. But it took us months to confess to each other. I was scared to move away from home but I knew I could do everything for him. So I did. I took everything I had and moved to LA. Got shitty apartment, part-time job and started attending Uni.

Here we are now. Two years in. I had a shitty job, better apartment and best boyfriend and my best friend by my side.

"Ur do wrong about it" I rolled my eyes putting pieces of legos together.

"No, I am not" He said trying to figure out how to connect pieces.

"I do not understand what in your head tells you not to use instructions" I said looking down at him. He was laying down on the blanket while I was sitting cross-legged next to him.

We were in the park near his house on a little lego date. We just came back from Boston few days ago and since that I didn't see him. I was busy with going back to work life after vacation and he as well had stuff going on. And today was a day we finally were alone. Because all of Boston trip we were with friends, his family or my family or I was alone because he had a boys trip. It has been a long time since we could just spend day together and I missed just talking to him.

"Because I know I can do it by myself" He said and I just shook my head and put my finished piece on the blanket.

"Here I am done mr.I can do it by myself" I smiled showing off my lego Pokemon.

"Oh shut up will you?" He laughed and took the instructions. Because of course I was right.

I laid down so my head would rest on his legs. I watched the sky.

"I need to quit my job" I said first time out loud what was on my mind.

'Well...I told you that already, you're not happy there and I know you could to so much better than that or just noting and stay with me?" He looked at me and started to play with my hair putting legos away.

"Matt... you know I do not want you to be my sugar daddy we already talked about this. This is not an option for me. And yes I know you told me that but.. I do not know I feel like my boss is even worst after I took my time off." I said.

"Did something happened?" He asked me clearly concerned.

"Nothing major, you know how I only usually did computer job and prepared meetings for others and for him. Well... he made me be a leader of the meeting...I had a stomach ache for the rest of the day and throw up when I got home because I was so anxious but in the same time I did it and it went well" I said and took a deep breath.

"Why you didn't say anything?" He asked me softly squeezing my hand.

"You were streaming and I didn't want to interrupt" I said.

"I would pick up the phone anyway, you know that.. And about this... he is an asshole but honey... I am so proud of you for doing that I know how hard it must have been for you. Remember my first tour show? I thought I couldn't do it. But you knew I could. And I also know you can do more than this job y/n." He said looking at me and smiled.

"You think?" I asked.

"I know. You have a brilliant ideas and all the time someone else is taking credits for them because you are to kind and you give them away for others to present. Sweets I know you could do that yourself and take all the credits. Of course few first times will be hard but then it will get better and I know you can do it...You deserve so much better than what you are doing now..." He said and I smiled.

"Thank you..." I said and I leaned to peck his lips.

"You do not have to thank me...I will always believe in you" He hugged me.

We talked more until sun was setting down and we came back brining dinner home for everyone.

"Hello! did you miss me already?" I said walking into the leaving room where Chris and Nick were doing something on their laptops.

" Not really I had my Pepsi all to myself for 4 days" Chris smiled at me and I smiled back.

"Yes we did, the only sane person in this household, hi" Nick waved at me and I smiled at him as well.

I was an only child and I was beyond happy that with Matt came two of his brothers, well three but Justin wasn't leaving with him. I felt like I had brothers my own thanks to that and I knew that they cared about me as much as I did for them.

We spend some time with them and then we went to Matt's room.

"I know you had a lot on your mind today so..." he walked to the nightstand and took out our journals.

I smiled and sat on his bed. He gave me mine and took his as well. I rested my back on the headboard and open my journal. I took one of the pens he put between us and just stared to write. I loved that we could just do this together in silence. I rested my head on his shoulder after some time.

"Matt... would you still love me if I was a worm?" I asked.

I moved away a little and sat on my knees so I could look at him.

"Yes? But you would have to forgive me if I squeeze you. You know how wiggly I am in bed when I sleep" He said deadly serious.

"You are so stupid I swear to god...." I laughed looking past him.

"Dear diary... he said he would still love me if I was a worm ❤️" I wrote and closed my journal and throw it across the bed.

He smiled at me and put his journal away as well and he pulled me so I would straddle his lap.

"Til I rot away, dead and buried...." We both said in the same time and I just laughed and kissed him resting my forehead on his.

#matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #Spotify

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pantherpilled · 2 days

Text

the boys with an older (afab) partner

nsfw + sfw below the cut :P

price

• price doesn’t even acknowledge you being older. you’re still his little lady, his honey baby, his tiny gal.

• princess treatment as usual; doors held open, tying your shoes, serving your food, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, anything to keep his baby love safe and sound.

• still enjoys being called sir or captain, age be damned.

• he quite likes that you’re older than him, he finds the small crows feet and smile lines so indescribably beautiful, you wear your age like the finest jewelry and it’s all it takes for him not to kneel down and kiss at your feet.

• he WORSHIPS you, he takes his time with you in bed, making sure to kiss every single centimeter of your body, not a sliver of skin goes without love.

• pleasure dom 100%, all that matters to him is you get off enough times that you feel stars and see tingles.

ghost

• also doesn’t acknowledge you being older than him at all

• he’ll pick you up bridal or let you climb up on his back when your heels start hurting your feet after parties, banquets or club nights.

• before you, he never went to the club, and he especially hated when his girlfriends would go, but you taught him how enjoyable it can be just to be within someones presence.

• so, now he goes for you, to watch your skin beam with the rainbow of flashing lights, almost-hear you singing along to the bass heavy booming music, feeling your body sway and slide against his when you finally get him to stop standing behind you like a scary bodyguard and dance.

• something about the way you look, the way you move, it’s all so elegant and pristine to him. he was always one to say perfection was unattainable- and here he is, with you, perfection in a woman, having attained it for himself

• can i be sooo real rn i love brat tamer simon, and i feel like its only better when you’re older than him

• he’s got you bent over his knee on the edge of the bed, stripped naked, tears soaking into the sheets as he lands smack after smack on your ass cheek

• he’s so taunting, too. he’ll make you count and if you mess up, “oh, sweets. old enough to make these decisions but can’t handle the consequences?” “poor thing, can’t even count now”

• you like to rub it in his face that you’re older, and he likes to wipe that shit-eating grin off your lips by replacing it with choked moans of his name

• he’s gentle when he wants to be but a majority of the time he’s rough, timing harsh, skin-slapping thrusts with the brutal circles of his thumb on your clit, practically tearing the orgasm from your nerves before you had a chance to process how close you were

• he won’t stop until you’re crying, begging, pushing him away from your spent body after so many orgasms you lost count, hell- even he lost count, and keeping count on how many times he can force you to let go for him is part of his fun

soap

• he’s the most playful about it, calling you a cougar and saying he loves milfs all the time

• youre not a mother, but when he gets you in bed for the first time and becomes aware of a breeding kink he didn’t know he had, he wants you to be

• he’s very vocal about it from the get go, has your cheek smashed into the plush of his pillow, his sharp hip bones smacking loudly against your ass as he babbles in your ear, “could make’ya ta prettiest mama, all swole wit’me littles”

• he does not miss the extra tremble in your thighs at the words but he doesn’t say anything about it either

• he calls you mama, mum, or ma all the time. originally you assumed it to be because you were older, but now you wonder if it’s because he’s just that desperate to make you a mother

• he takes his role as ‘younger boyfriend’ VERY seriously

• YES he lost his debit card again, ma, can he pleases use yours? he’ll pay you back triple as soon as he gets back to the base, he just really wants a chocolate bar

• NO he did not wash the dishes like you so kindly asked him and when you confront him about it, he’s rushing to you like a hurt toddler

• “ma ma ma, not ta worry- was waitin’ta after breakfast so ye didn’t have tae do those ones”

• even if his excuses don’f work, he knows how to get you mewling and crying out for him loud enough that you forget your dish concerns

• “so worried ‘bout some plates,” he’d scoff, timing his perfect thrusts with his words, “all’yae needed was sum’a this”

gaz

• calls you ma’am when you first meet, and you almost want to take offense to it just to spook the poor boy but the way his eyes glint as he checks you out has you rethinking how much of a ‘boy’ he is

• even after you get together, he always calls you ma’am

• “let me get that for you, ma’am”, “a moment, ma’am?”, “ma’am, if you don’t mind-,”

• loves being praised- good boy, sweet one, pretty baby. it all makes his cheeks pink and his cock swell

• he’s a fairly gentle lover, washing your body with kisses and whispered praises before slowly stretching you to size with his fingers

• he leaves marks but theyre light, overly nervous to hurt you, same reason he stays so slow and soft with his thrusts- but he doesn’t realize it just gets frustrating after a while

• he finally bites down on your skin when you push him over and climb on top, taking control of the pace and rhythm, overwhelming him for a short second just from the sheer difference of his weak thrusts from before

• he grabs and squeezes and pinches and pulls at the fat on your hips as you ride him, grunting out any praise he can think of

• “so pretty up there”, “that’s it, sweetpea”, “c’mon angel baby”

(i have a crush on a guy younger than me and im projecting:3)

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pizzapottah · 1 day

Text

homecoming

summary: it's been almost three years. can james make up for the lost time?

pairing: james potter x slytherin!slughorn!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 5.4k

warnings: language, injuries, the marauders' usual stupidity....

author's note: oof. this was a whole lot of work. i know this was supposed to be much longer, but there's a specific part (the one about james and reader getting together) that i just could not manage to finish. this can count as last chapter, but if i manage i will finish the other about them being in love and blah blah blah. unfortunately i am in a terrible writer's block so i don't know when or if i'll be able to finish it.

as always, my requests are open, so please feel free to request anything. bridgerton, hotd, got, hp, pjo.... ANYTHING. please help me get out of this writer's block lol. enjoy the reading even if i'm not really satisfied with it and, as always, english is not my first language, so constructive criticism is pleasantly accepted.

runaway | homecoming

James is utterly, unmistakably and without any doubt going to fail Potions.

It’s not his fault - not really. He doesn’t actually like Potions. He took the class, even after fifth year, for two reasons: his father and Lily Evans. The latter is the same reason why, right now, he’s failing it.

Fleamont, his father and a renowed potionist, looked so happy when James passed with the grades needed to take the class for the last two years. He didn’t actually think of taking it, but he looked at him like he expected him to do it and- it’s not like his parents ever forced him to do something he didn’t want to, but he was just so happy. James told himself that he could take Potions for just two more years if it meant them being so proud about it.

Besides, there was Lily Evans in the class. How could he deny himself of even more hours spent in her presence?

Well, guess what? Slughorn doesn’t grade based on who stares the longest time at Lily, apparently.

James stares at the burning red T on the parchment of his assignment. Troll. Until now, he thought that this achievement wasn’t within his reach, both because the grade Troll always sounds like an urban legend when other people talk about it and because he never had anything under Acceptable in his assignments. When Sirius hears about this, I’ll never hear the end of it. He didn’t even think Slughorn was able to put less than A, always too kind to his students.

“Man, what did you do to get Troll?” Marlene whispers beside him, frowning at his paper. James peeks at her test; a green O stands in the same place where his T is. “I suck at Potions, Potter, suck. And my dad surely didn’t invent the Sleekeazy’s Hair potion, so, tell me, did you do it on purpose? There’s no other reasonable explanation.”

The bell rings; the students immediately get up, happily chatting about the good grades that apparently everyone but him got, and James finds himself putting away his things without the usual vigor, already dreading the time when his friends will inevitably find out. Slughorn approaches him, taking pity for a boy which he saw grow up.

“Potter, it’s not the end of the world, don’t worry.” he tries to reassure, but his eyes say something else. They say ‘How the hell did you manage to take a T in my class?’ “I’m, erm, I’m sure you’ll be able to get better.” he looks at Lily, on the other side of the class, like he’s trying desperately to help him. “Evans, maybe you could give him some lessons?”

Lily sends an apologetic look at the professor, then a glare at James. “Sorry, professor. I would, but not for him.” She bids him goodbye and exits the class, Snape right after her. As Slughorn turns again to look at his students, he’s clearly concerned. “Merlin, Potter. What did you do to get Evans to hate you?”

He dramatically sighs. “I don’t know, professor. If you happen to find out, please let me know.”

The man sighs, taking out a napkin from his pocket and gently patting his forehead. “You have to get better, Potter. If you fail as a student, that means I fail as a teacher, too. Godric… this is the first Troll of my career. What will your dad think of me if you fail my class?”

James isn’t sure he wants to know. He’s never disappointed his parents before. “We have to find you a tutor, Potter, and a good one. I can’t give you extra lessons, I’m already busy enough as I am…” Yes, with the Slug Club, James almost replies; but then Slughorn looks like he just had the idea of the century.

“But of course!” he exclaims, happy to have found a solution. “My granddaughter!” he says your name, and James suddenly feels like a soldier being sent back to war. “She’s a year younger, but she knows everything, you see, I made sure of it… she’s more understanding of this subject than some licensed potionists out there, she could help you a lot, yes, yes… and you were friends, am I wrong? Good, good, she already knows you, I’m sure she won’t refuse…”

James is actually sure you will refuse.

Why? Because the last time you ever talked to each other, it ended up with a broken arm, a broken nose and two bruised egos. And even if technically, it wasn’t his fault, it doesn’t mean that your friendship magically mended itself over the years.

You two never interacted at school after what Remus calls The Accident, not really - the only form of contact you’d had was from Quidditch, where you were both playing as Chasers in your respective Houses, and more often than not during games happened to hit each other in a not-so-fair way. More than often professor McGonagall herself had to reprove him - and not only him, but Sirius too - for playing an unfair game. And when they tried to protest, saying that you surely weren’t innocent either, she just huffed.

“Miss Slughorn is not my responsibility; she’s professor Slughorn’s, and I’m sure he will make her understand her mistakes and she will not try again. But it is my duty to punish you for your deplorable behavior and lack of sporting spirit!”

It seems like McGonagall’s reprimanding did little, because Quidditch games become carnages.

It feels like Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry is at its peak, and suddenly the violence reaches the school, too, and hallways are no longer safe from the squabbles of the students. Students who hang each other upside down and constantly cause fights to break out, ruining the usual peace of Hogwarts.

It looks like the teachers aren't really sure how to handle it. Dumbledore gives a long, heartbreaking speech about friendship, loyalty and helping each other, but it doesn't help much; a search for whoever told Dumbledore about the fights is started between the Houses, with the intention of… well, not making them say anything about it next time.

It honestly feels like war. Even Hufflepuffs start to attack to avoid being attacked - that's what happens when you constantly get picked on because you don't defend yourself, you guess.

Nobody is safe, but it's like between Gryffindor and Slytherin there's a feud. It was always there, ever since Godric and Salazar created their Houses, but it's getting out of hand.

The straw that breaks the camel's back is the last game of the year, fought between those two Houses.

In the first ten minutes, already three players were on the ground and wailing in pain. After a threat to disqualify anyone who dared to cheat from Madame Hooch, the game went on without much problems for a while; that was until James saw the golden snitch. Because apparently, you saw it too.

You both launch at the snitch, who keeps flying, unbothered, and even if you want to make James fall off the broom in the most violent way possible, you're able to hold yourself back. You follow the snitch, almost shoulder to shoulder, hands stretched out to catch the little flying bead.

A quaffle almost cuts your heads off. Thrown off balance, James falters for a moment, slowing down, and gives you some advantage; you clearly see the snitch going under the stands of Ravenclaw, creating a hole in the big banners of the House. You don’t really have time to think - you just go for it.

You speed towards the banner and tear an ever bigger rip on the poor Ravenclaw flag. James is fast to get back on your tail, though, barely dodging the wood beams that are holding together the structure. And suddenly you’re shoulder to shoulder again - for real, this time - pushing each other. Hooch can’t see what you’re doing, anyways.

It takes a moment to adjust to the lack of good lighting, but then you see it: the golden snitch, speeding right in front of you, blinking in the little light, almost mocking you. You hold your hand in front of you, and already can imagine the victory - oh, suck it, Gryffindors-

The snitch takes an abrupt turn, hitting James right on the nose, knocking him out and making him fall from the broom. Except, before he actually falls off, he manages to take a hold of the cloak of your uniform, taking you down with him.

Meanwhile, Madame Hooch notices that not only one, but both Chasers just disappeared in thin air. “Black!” she yells, not really thinking about the fact that there’s two Black in the pitch right now, “Go and tell them to get out from under the stands, dear Merlin…”

Regulus and Sirius speed at the same time towards the rip on the banner, which now is basically a full-on opening to under the stands, clanking shoulders in the process.

You don't think you've ever felt pain like this before. Your left arm is throbbing, feeling like it’s going to fall off any minute now, and your head has never hurt so much since you can remember. A sob falls out of your lips before you can hold it in, and suddenly you’re crying out in pain, not really knowing what to do. James is hovering over you the second you start sobbing, worried as you’ve never seen him, taking a hold of your face as gently as he can. Blood is gushing out of his nose, going over his chin and staining both your uniforms. His glasses lay somewhere near, surely broken.

“What hurts? Is it- oh dear Merlin, your arm, it’s-” well, if not even James, who suffered countless Quidditch injuries over the years, can describe the condition of your arm, then it’s probably not something you’d ever wish upon your worst enemy.

You try to regain your self-control, even if your sight is blurry from the tears and your voice feels like it’s gone. Then, before you can try to say anything, yells come from the direction in which you both just came.

“I told you, she was looking at me!”

“Yeah, dumbass, like we weren’t side to side when she yelled our surname!”

“Aren’t you tired of always following me? It’s a miracle you didn’t convince the Hat to put you in Gryffindor, you little rat-”

“Oh, so I’m a rat? What about your friend that literally turns into one?” “I see Snivellus has filled you in with the details-”

“You know, it’s pretty given since one of your friends could possibly hurt us just because the moon is big-”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt a fly, you little shi-”

They both come to a stop once they see you two, looking like a living crime scene, but even then they don’t really stop arguing - they never will, probably. Regulus is by your side in a moment, pushing away James, all the while screaming at his brother. “Why do you always have to be like this? Can’t you just shut up for once, you son of a-” “We’ve got the same parents, dipshit!”

“No we don’t! According to your words, you found me in a dumpster, remember?”

Sirius winces. For what is maybe the first time in years, he looks sorry. “Aw, c’mon now. You know I was kidding.”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that now, but you didn’t tell that to the Gryffindors that started teasing me about it, nor did you try to correct them.” Regulus stares at your arm, who is in an unnatural position, and starts asserting the damage. “Merlin. Can you get up on your own? C’mon, I’ll help you,”

He helps you get up and wipes away your tears, while your sobs reduce to muffled sniffs, and takes your broom from where it fell so that you can return to the pitch. “We’ve gotta take you to the infirmary, it’s not looking good…” he spares a look at James, “And maybe you should visit Madam Pomfrey too, Potter, but if you die from blood loss I’m sure we’ll manage just fine without you.”

As Reg helps you stabilize yourself on the broom and to get back out there, James feels completely numb.

He once was the one that managed to make you stop crying, that helped you back up on your feet when you fell and scraped your knee. The one you’d look for when you searched for help, comfort or someone to talk to. Now, as he watches you fly away with Regulus, who holds a hand on your back to keep you stable, he barely hears the screams of the students in the stands and the words of Sirius, who’s trying to snap him out of his daze.

“James? Hey, mate, you okay? You’re covered in blood.”

He barely even sees him - his vision is clouded with tears, tears that he desperately tries to hold back. Taking a deep breath, he collects the remnants of his glasses and takes his broom, knowing that if he talks, he’ll start sobbing. But Sirius doesn’t get the memo.

“Did she throw you off? I bet she did, but karma has your back. She deserved it, believe me, she had to learn her lesson in a way or another.” James hopes that he stops there, because the guilt’s already eating him alive and he just wants to lie down and let the floor swallow him whole. Hearing Sirius insult you for something you had no fault in doesn’t help the already disastrous situation. But his friend apparently still has many things to say left in his repertory. “She has to be terrible to befriend by brother. Saw how she was crying, like she’s the victim? I swear-”

“Could you please fucking shut that trap, man?” James bursts. “I made her fall, okay? It’s my fault she was hurt. Stop insulting her.”

Sirius glares at him. “What is your problem, man?”

“What is my problem? My problem?” James laughs in disbelief, tears streaming down his face. “My problem is that you always think you know what’s going on, don’t you?”

His friend is about to reply, but he doesn’t let him. “No you don’t! You have no idea what we went through together, nor what happened between us, nor what person she is! So you have no right to criticize her for everything she does, even when she has no fault in the matter!”

James ends up in the infirmary with a fractured nose, barely two beds away from you, who actually have no intention of talking to him at all, and made sure he knew that. You stayed there a lot more days than him, but your friends visited every time they were able to, bringing sweets and flowers. They also skillfully ignored James, who instead laid there sulking while you got pampered by Lily.

He did try to talk to you after you were dismissed from the medical ward, at least to say sorry for having broken your arm, but you ignored him with all your might. Regulus became your mediator, always telling him off, never leaving your side when he saw James near.

Him and Sirius didn’t talk for a while, but it didn’t last long. Soon they got back to talking like normal, never addressing the things that were said during that game. Sirius stopped talking about you, going as far as avoiding his brother too to not cause any more damage than he already did.

He made a last, desperate attempt at your forgiveness by writing you a letter - I know you don’t want to talk to me, but if you ever happen to need a friend, i’ll always be there for you - and sending it to you with his owl.

You never replied.

That was a year ago, and that’s also why James is sure you’ll say no.

Except you say yes.

James is at Sprout’s class when Slughorn knocks and pokes his head in. “I’m sorry, Pomona, could I borrow Potter for a moment?”

Professor Sprout stares disappointed but not surprised at James, motioning for him to go. “You better not have set the Slytherin dormitories on fire again, Potter,” she hisses. Slughorn happily shakes his head, “Ah, don’t worry, Pomona, he still hasn’t done it again, I’m here just to discuss a little something with him.”

Once he’s out of the class, Slughorn happily takes out a letter from his pocket and gives it to him. “My granddaughter agreed to give you lessons, and gave me some days and times that go with her schedule. She’s often busy studying for the O.W.L.s, as you surely know, so it’s a tight fit, but I’m certain you’ll manage.”

James is honestly dumbfounded. All this time ignoring him, acting like he didn’t exist, and suddenly you’re aware of him and his struggles? He must be dreaming. He opens the letter and reads the schedule:

Monday — 18:00 - 19:00

Wednesday — 15:00 - 16:30

Friday — 11:00 - 12:30

Sunday — 13:00 - 15:30

You must have read his weekly schedule, too, because it all strangely fits well with his lessons. Under the voice Sunday, there’s a little note: All lessons will take place in the library, except for Sunday, when we’ll go to professor Slughorn’s class to practice the actual making of the potions.

The idea of spending so much of his free time making potions is almost revolting, but the thought of making it up to you makes it all worth it. He’ll spend time with you - almost eight hours a week - until his grades are decent enough or you get tired of him. I won’t let it happen, he promises to himself. You won’t get tired of him, and if he has to seal Sirius’ mouth shut to keep you around, then he gladly will.

He comes back to the class with a triumphant smile plastered on his face, making his friends frown - even if no one is more confused than professor Sprout. “Potter, are you alright?” she asks, worriedly. Usually when he got called out of class it was because of some prank gone wrong, so it wasn’t strange for the teachers to just take their time to yell at him. He nods, shining with anticipation. “Never been better, professor.”

“You didn’t set the Slytherin dormitories on fire, did you?”

“Absolutely not, professor.”

“A- alright.”

But it’s only when he notices that James stopped looking at Lily Evans that Sirius actually gets worried. He bumps his shoulder, whispering, “What did Slughorn tell you?” he waves him off, “Nothing important, I’ve got extra lessons in Potions.” He still hasn’t told any of the Marauders about the Troll, and he’s surprised himself on how well he managed to keep the secret. Even more surprised at Marlene for not telling anyone - he’ll probably have to buy her something as a thank you, as she rarely does something for him for free.

James spends the rest of the week waiting for Monday, often thinking about it with a dreamy look on his face, always making his friends frown and then check if Lily was around. Strangely, more often than not she wasn’t even in the same room.

Monday eventually rolls around, and James has never been happier to enter the library. He may have entered it like, two times since first year, but as of now he’s ready to live in it if it means seeing you more.

He waits at one of the tables feeling like an idiot, and maybe he is, but also a lucky one. You’re late by almost ten minutes, and he thinks that this may be the first time a girl stands him up.

But, surprisingly enough, you show up.

You're with Regulus - and that makes him seethe, but he's ready to make a point of bearing his presence if that's the price to pay to get you back.

Talking about you; your hands are full of books that stand in a shaky pile leaning on your chest. You're chatting with your friend, your brows furrowed, the strap of your bag almost falling off of your shoulder. You notice James, then, and as he grins, your brows furrow even deeper. You look tired - he’s not really surprised, he remembers the struggle of the O.W.L.s; he’s surprised that you’re able to stand up, as he vividly recalls not being able to do that last year in this same period of time.

“Potter,” you and Regulus greet at the same time. You let the books fall on the table, huffing, and he interjects, “For you it’s James,” he replies smiling cheerfully. Then he turns to Regulus, frowning, “To you, it is Potter.”

The boy rolls his eyes, “Yeah, that’s what I called you. Even if to me, you’re Dickhead.”

You blink, not amused, at James. “Keep insulting my friends and I’ll do my best to make you fail Potions.”

James lets out a squeal. “Please don’t.”

The first lesson is strange. There’s tension in the air - maybe it’s just the glares that Regulus and James are sending each other the whole time - but it feels refreshing to have your presence near again. You don’t even seem to hate him anymore; you just act… indifferent. You don’t laugh at his jokes, not even when he bashes Sirius - even if he sees Regulus holding himself back from laughing - and just explain everything he did wrong in his assignments to him, explaining some concepts and basics.

Once the clock ticks to 19 o’clock, you’re already putting your things away, chatting with Regulus about dinner; you barely spare James a glance as you exit the library, He’s feeling lost - suddenly he would like to ask his little self how he would feel about you not being friends with him anymore. He’s sure that eight-years-old James would cry for a week straight and then beg on his knees for forgiveness, and is also sure that you probably wouldn’t have forgiven him nonetheless.

But that’s okay. He never liked easy challenges.

If it wasn’t for your grades in Transfiguration, you would have happily let James rot in the depths of Hell.

When your grandfather asked you to please help the Potter boy, you had been against it. Refusing profusely, like your life depended on it; you promised to yourself you’d never let him back in your life, not after he pulled that stunt on the Quidditch pitch, a stunt of which your grandad is still blissfully unaware of. But then again, Horace Slughorn is still Horace Slughorn, and he pulled one of his many favors like you were one of his prizes on the nightstand.

One of his many friends is, apparently, the inspector for the Transfiguration trial of the O.W.L.s. He promises that he can make him give you an O on the only subject you’re barely Acceptable in.

It’s wrong. Maybe. But it would be stupid to pass down an opportunity like this just because of a personal grudge. You’re not ready to ruin your whole grade sheet just by refusing. Because of what? Of a boy? Not happening.

So you have to agree, and your grandfather is eager to shower you in kisses and hugs, gushing about how you saved his career. You’re pretty sure the Troll hurts James more than him, but choose not to say anything about it. You go through your schedule and his - just so that he can’t complain about the time and start arguing with you again - and manage to find some hours where the both of you are free, even if it was pretty hard considering all the study groups you took part of in preparation for the O.W.L.s.

The first lesson is unbearable. He tried so hard to be funny and he didn’t even understand that to you, he is not. You don’t think he will ever be to you again. Everytime he opened his mouth you just thought about every time that he called you stupid just because you were making friends on your own, friends that he didn’t like.

You know that sometimes kids say stupid things, wrong things, just because they are kids and don’t really know the real weight of words. Maybe he regretted it, as Remus often tells you; in-fact, despite the bad experience with his friends, Lupin actually became somewhat of a friend to you, sometimes updating you on James’ life.

(“He broke his ankle going down the stairs,” he told you once. You had snorted, “Really? I wish it was his face.”

He actually laughed.

Sometimes you think Remus is too smart for the Marauders; too sensitive to be with friends like them. But you don’t dare to say anything, because if you did, you’d be no better than James.)

Thankfully on Tuesday there’s no lesson, but you do have a study session with some Ravenclaws to put together Sprout’s notes to try to understand whatever the fuck she taught last lesson. On your way to the garden, it’s actually Remus that stops you.

He looks terrible. His eyes are red, his hair mussled, and his uniform looks more wrinkled than usual. “Please, just get this over with,” he pleads, and for a moment, you think he’s about to fall to his knees and beg you. You blink. “Get over with what?”

His left eye twitches. “Do you have any idea of what I went through last night, woman?”

You raise an eyebrow at his antics. “No. Should I?”

He lets out a scream that holds all the stress of sixth year in it, and that makes many students in the hallway turn to glare at him. “Your bloody student! He talked my ear off all night! All night! I didn’t get a blink of sleep, he made sure to usurp my bunk and knew how to keep me there! I have an important test today, and I swear, if I fail it, I’m gonna say to McGonagall that it’s your fault!”

You gasp. “But I didn’t do anything!”

“Well, tell that to James, because he probably hasn’t understood that your lack of response to his jokes isn’t because you’re reminiscing about your friendship, but because you simply don't find them funny!”

You notice something and try to stop him. “Remus-”

“He spent hours talking about how he’s so happy to finally be able to be friends with you again! Hours! I haven’t slept in three days because of my exams and now this! Could you just tell him that you didn’t agree to the lessons because you want to be friends with him again, please?”

“Uh…” the voice comes from behind him and Remus freezes, recognizing James’ voice. Your face is contorted into a frown, knowing that you tried your best to warn him. You don’t care about the fact that he heard that you have no intention of becoming friends with him again; you care about the fact that he has heard one of his friends talking about him like this.

How ironic is it that he warned me so much about my friends, but the first one to dismiss his feelings like that is one of his closest friends?

Remus pales. James’s usual tan complexion is a bit paler than usual, too; it probably isn’t nice hearing all your thoughts and hopes being screamed in the hallway, for anyone to hear. “James, I…”

But he’s already going the opposite direction, and you’re pretty sure that you saw tears in his eyes. Remus runs after him, spluttering a spring of apologies, and then they both disappear behind the walls of the Castle.

Pandora, who was near there when Remus started shouting, approaches you. “What happened?”

You sigh. For the first time in years, you feel bad for James - maybe you even pity him. And that is not a good thing. “Dunno, Dora,” you mutter, deep in thought. “Men are strange creatures.”

Xenophilius Lovegood passes by, and Pandora sighs dramatically. “Oh, don’t tell me.”

You almost expect James not to show up to the lesson the day after, but he does. He does and this time he’s silent, not joking around, only opening his mouth to ask you questions. Now, you do pity him; you know he has really bonded with the Marauders. James is one of those people who manage to be friends with everybody, but not actually friends; he doesn’t bond that easily. He has a lot of acquaintances and knows nearly every student, yes, but he can count on the fingers of his hands the people he actually considers to be his friends.

It’s strange how you know so many things about him, even after all this time. You fear you may never be able to forget them; that James will remain etched on your brain, a stain in your younger years that never managed to go away.

“I’m sorry about what happened yesterday.” you mutter, not even knowing where the words came from. He looks surprised, not expecting them either from you, not after all that Remus said.

“Yeah,” he blurts out. “I… should’ve expected it, actually. S’not like you have ever actually shown interest in me after… y’know.”

Your thoughts go back to the letter he wrote you: I know you don’t want to talk to me, but if you ever happen to need a friend, i’ll always be there for you. You know it’s not much, but you think that maybe, just maybe, you can put your grudge away for a moment, just because he really looks like he needs a friend right now, and since Remus at the moment is out of the picture, Peter isn’t really good with these types of things and Sirius is… well, Sirius, maybe you need to step in.

You hastily get up, going around the table and sitting right beside him. “Remus said things he didn’t think in a moment of stress,” you try to console him. He’s flushed from when you sat down next to him, probably not expecting this move from you, but pleasantly surprised.

He blinks at you for a moment, and you almost want to take everything back. But then he smiles, a smile so tender that it could melt ice. “You always tried to make me feel better when we were younger, too,” he sniffs. You put a tentative hand on his shoulder, “We can try being friends again, James, and I mean it. But this time the Marauders have to stay out of it. You, of course, can stay friends with them, but you have to understand that I've got friends out of us just as much as you have friends out of us.”

He nods, but then his lower lip trembles and his eyes shine with tears. “You know,” he starts, stammering, “I don’t think anyone gets me like you understood me.”

Of course they don't, you want to say. Something like our friendship happens one time in a lifetime, James. You don’t get to grow up with your best friend every day. James sniffs, “Sirius maybe comes close to it. But I can’t talk to him about you because that’s when he starts to not understand me. Remus… well, I found out yesterday that he actually can’t stand my constant yapping. Peter always looks at me like I’m crazy.” he suddenly looks up, an alarmed look on his face. “Am I? Crazy, I mean.”

You wince. “I mean, you look sane enough to me.” no he doesn't, his eyes are blood-shot and he looks like he hasn't had a moment to relax since yesterday. But you can't just say that to him. “James, I think you rely too much on your friends. Usually it's a good thing - it means you trust them and all - but sometimes you just have to make decisions by yourself. Remus can listen to you all you want, but he can't solve your problems for you.”

You know that him and Remus will probably resolve and then get back to their friendship like nothing happened, but James looks at you with eyes full of unshed tears. He looks like a baby deer. “Are we solved?”

You melt. “We can be.”

#harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #james potter fanfic #james potter #james potter fanfiction #pizzapottah's writing #james potter x reader #james potter x slytherin!readeer #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era fanfic #marauders era #james potter imagine

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mystic-writings · 2 days

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out like a light | steve harrington

PAIRING — steve harrington x fem!reader

SUMMARY — you and steve have been living a happy, simple life in hawkins. the return of an old friend flips everything on its head.

WARNINGS — angst, verbal arguments, cheating, steve and reader are married

WORD COUNT — 2,856

NOTES — loosely inspired by 'out like a light 2' by ricky montgomery

masterlist | navigation

Steve Harrington was all yours.

It started out as a silly promise, a quiet whisper between lips and sheets in the early days of your relationship. But it was a promise nonetheless, and Steve intended to keep it for as long as you would let him.

You seemed to have one of those picture perfect relationships; one that everyone envied, even if the path that led you there was anything but. It took time to get to where you were, and a lot of pain. Effort. But it was worth the heartache, the uncertainty. Because you were happy.

According to the social class guidelines of your high school career, you and Steve even being friends with each other was something nearly unthinkable. But neither of you could care too much about something as stupid as that — your relationship meant too much. You’d been through too much together.

And, somehow, through the nights spent singing to Queen on the radio and driving along the long abandoned Hawkins roads, you fell in love with Steve Harrington. And he fell in love with you, too.

Your relationship didn’t go without its trials and tribulations. You weren’t that lucky.

The first big fight you could remember happened right after your high school graduation. There was no forgetting it; it was the first time you’d ever told him you loved him.

“Why are you being so ridiculous, Steve?!” You shouted, standing with a heaving chest in his parent’s living room. You’d been shouting at each other for an hour, now. Maybe longer. Steve’s parents weren’t home, so you didn’t mind being so loud. Then again, they never were. “You’re not even listening to me!”

“I’m not being ridiculous, here! I’m just—” he huffed, carding his fingers through his hair. “You’re going off to college in two months and I’m staying here, I just don’t think it’ll work out.”

You felt like your lungs were robbed of air. “Don’t say that.” You pleaded, eyes brimming with sudden tears. “You don’t get to decide that. It’s not fair.”

“You deserve better.” Steve decided. “A lot better than me.”

“And what makes you think that, Steve? What, because you didn’t get into any colleges?” Your voice was soaked in emotion, and you didn’t have the energy to try to hide it from him. You didn’t want to. “You can try again next year, you know. With Robin. Save your money and just try again.”

Steve seemed to deflate at your words, but you weren’t done.

Taking a hesitant step closer, you began to close the gap between you, words trembling on the tip of your tongue. “I love you, Steve Harrington. Nothing is going to change that. I’m all yours. No one else’s. I don’t want to be, baby.”

“Don’t,” Steve nearly begged. His heart swelled at your words, almost unbearably so, a terrifying reminder of why he was doing this. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

“From what?” You asked, voice a mere whisper. “What could you possibly hold me back from?”

Steve sighed, his head dropping. He could barely stand to look at you; at the pain he was causing you. Your red rimmed eyes searched for his, and his resolve almost crumbled. The sinister voice in the back of his head reminded him that this was for the best. The calming one told him to hear you out.

“From a life away from here, from Hawkins.” Steve said, scrubbing his face with his hands. “I’m just— I’ll always be the reminder of this town. Of the things we’ve been through. And I know how much it all hurt you. I don’t want to do that to you.”

“If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s that, Steve,” you told him, taking another step forward. “If anything, you’re my reminder that there’s still good in this place. You help me forget.”

A strangled sob slipped from Steve’s lips, and you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. Steve’s head fell into the crook of your neck as one of your hands cupped the back of his head, your lips pressing gentle kisses to his hair.

“I love you,” he whispered, grabbing your sweater by the fistful.

You sighed, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I love you, too.”

Being high school sweethearts and making it through college was a feat you didn’t think most people could achieve. But you and Steve had been so in love that somehow, someway, you did. The thought that you couldn’t never even crossed your mind.

All of the friends you made through college all said the same thing — you were made for each other. Soulmates. The perfect couple.

A perfect picture of love and happiness.

Eventually, after that first fight, Steve had proved you right. He and Robin attended college together, graduating the year after you did. You never once doubted his ability to do what he wanted in life.

You built a life for yourselves together. Steve began working for his dad, with a higher title than he could’ve ever gotten without a degree. You put your knowledge to use, working with the freshmen at Hawkins High. Even if Steve had wanted a life for you outside of the town, you didn’t mind staying. You’d go anywhere if it meant you were with Steve.

He proposed Christmas after his college graduation. You got married two springs later, and moved into a brand-new, red brick house with four bedrooms — enough room to start a family.

It was the simplest of lives, but you relished every single day of it. If it meant that there were no more monsters crawling out from the depths of hell to try and kill you, you would enjoy every single day.

But it seemed that Steve didn’t want the life you did anymore.

You should’ve seen the signs earlier. After being married for half a decade, and together for almost twice that time, you should’ve seen it when Steve first began pulling away from you.

Nights spent late at the office, leaving you to eat dinner alone. Business trip after business trip, where Steve barely made the effort to call before bed. The declining amount of date nights, both out and in the comfort of your home. Steve’s lack of enthusiasm to hear about your day, or to just spend time with you in general. The way that every conversation began with snipping remarks that eventually turned into meaningless shouting matches.

It should’ve been no surprise when you found the root of it all.

Nancy Wheeler moving back to Hawkins was a surprise. Though, she was by no means Nancy Wheeler anymore. She’d been Nancy Byers for just under four years when she and Jonathan came back to their hometown.

You were eager to catch up with her when she moved back to town. She and Jonathan had been living in Boston ever since they graduated college — her degree coming from Emerson, and his from Quincy, a community college from what you’d heard. With them, they brought a one-year old boy, with eyes like his mother’s and a quiet demeanor like his father. Benji Byers, short for Benjamin.

The couple seemed content to move back for their son’s sake, to live out the rest of their life in the quiet town, now no longer plagued by the horrors you’d experienced in your teenage years. You were just glad you had someone familiar to talk to again; Robin stayed in Chicago after college, and only really visited for the holidays, wherein she’d crash in your spare bedroom for a month with her girlfriend, Jess. You loved the company.

You spent a lot of spare time with Nancy, Jonathan, and Benji. They’d moved back to town around the time of year where Steve was away more often than he was home, and you couldn’t get enough of Benji.

“Why don’t you and Steve don’t have kids yet?” Nancy had asked one day as you sat in her living room, a cooing Benji in your lap. You knew she had meant well, but the stutter in your heart and the hesitation before your response told her everything she needed to know.

“We’re just not ready yet.” You said with a tight lipped smile. “Steve’s just so busy right now, and I think we’re still enjoying ourselves for now.”

You just hoped your face didn’t show it as you relived the countless arguments over having kids that seemed to happen between you and Steve. Shouts of ‘I’m not ready’, always to be countered with your rebuttals of how much of a lie Steve’s words were. There was nothing you were more ready for than having a child.

But it seemed Steve had his eye on something else.

The Byers family moved back to Hawkins, and in less than a year, your marriage was nothing but a pile of rubble and shattered glass.

The shuffling of feet and a clatter somewhere in the house roused you from your uncomfortable sleep.

“Steve?” You mumbled from your place on the couch, voice raspy.

An open book lay face down on your thigh, darkness drenching the space around you as your eyes adjusted. The last you remembered was flipping the page on your book, the clock reading quarter-past midnight, as you waited for Steve to get home safe.

The shuffling stopped abruptly, and you stretched out your stiff limbs before closing the book and making your way to the kitchen, where light was spilling from the archway. Bleary-eyed, you glanced at the clock, almost unsurprised to find it reading twenty minutes to four.

“Where were you?” You asked, finding Steve’s back to yours as he stood at the sink, hands gripping the counter. A bottle of whiskey and a half-full glass sat on the counter next to him.

“Nowhere,” Steve said, knuckles turning white, head hanging low. “I, uh— I went to the bar with some of the guys, that’s all. Go to bed, I’ll be up in a minute.”

You sighed, shuffling into the room. “Steve,” you whispered. “Come with me. Please.”

Steve’s shoulders tensed beneath his crumpled button down, and it was now that you noticed the state he was in. Most of his outfit had been wrinkled, the sleeves haphazardly rolled halfway up his forearms. His hair was a mess, almost as though the gel he’d put in it that morning was never there in the first place. And the closer you looked, the easier you could see it.

His hair was wet.

You had known for a fact that it wasn’t going to rain tonight, mostly because you were planning to cook a barbeque dinner for yourself and Steve.

The pieces seemed to click into place in an instant, and your blood ran cold. The thought of it made your stomach turn, your heart shattering in your chest, shards ripping and tearing at the skin of your soul.

“Steve, where were you,” your tone was low, soaked in emotion.

In an instant, Steve was turning to face you, anger twisting his face. “Jesus, I already told you! I was at the damn bar, Y/n!”

You stepped back at Steve’s flailing limbs, horrified to find that the front of him looked no better than the back.

The tie he’d put on that morning was no longer around his neck — in fact, it was missing altogether. The top five buttons on his shirt were undone, exposing the white tank top he wore underneath it. It also exposed the angry red marks that littered his chest and neck, forcing a strangled, quiet gasp from your throat like the last breath of air before you drowned beneath the weight of it all.

“Who is she?”

“What?” Steve hissed, following your eyes to his chest. His shoulders sagged, fingers fumbling to button his shirt, as if hiding the evidence of his infidelity would make you forget about it. “Y/n it’s not— don’t—”

“Who is she?” You said, voice dripping with anger and pain. You could barely see your husband through the wall of tears building in your eyes, but you refused to take your eyes away from him. You would not break.

Steve gnawed on his lip, heart racing. He knew he couldn’t lie to you, to his wife.

“Nancy.” He spoke barely above a whisper, the name coming off his tongue like a bullet, aimed at your already shattered heart.

The staggered breath that came from you made Steve’s chest fill with guilt. When he looked up, he found you staring at him, eyes tearful and cheeks stained with the ones that had already fallen.

And yet, the response you gave was one he wasn’t expecting.

“She’s a mother, Steve. How could you?” The more you thought about the entire situation, the more your sadness turned to rage. “She has a child! What did you think was going to happen, hmm?! You’d break up two marriages and ruin that poor boy’s life because— because, what, you got bored of me? That you’d raise someone else’s son because you couldn’t stand to think of having one with me?”

As soon as the words slipped past your lips, it seemed the brief fire within you went with them. Your stomach turned at the thought, hands carding through your hair. “You… She has a son… Oh, God.”

“Y/n—” Steve rushed forward, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You pushed your husband’s arm away from you, taking several steps back. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me, Steve. I can’t believe you.”

Turning on your heel, you rushed out of the kitchen and up the stairs, Steve shouting your name as he followed after you.

“Y/n, come on, let’s just talk about this,”

You spun around in your bedroom doorway, chest heaving. “You want to talk about this?” You scoffed. “Why don’t we talk about the fact that every time I’ve brought up kids you said you didn’t want any yet! That you weren’t ready! Let’s talk about how I’ve spent the past four months— longer than that, even— trying to find a way to fix our marriage while you screwed your high school ex-girlfriend behind my back! About how you ruined two marriages because you couldn’t stand living a normal life!”

“That’s not true!” Steve shouted back, following as you moved to grab a suitcase from the closet. “You know that isn’t true, Y/n!”

“Yeah, right, it’s not true.” You admitted, stopping between where the suitcase sat open, empty on the bed, and where the dresser sat. “You wanted that life. The white, picket fence, Church on Sundays life. You just didn’t want it with me.”

Steve stood in your bedroom — the room you shared, as husband and wife — dumbfounded and heartbroken at the sight of you. He had been the one to cause this hurt, and for what? To relive his teen years? To go back to the time that seemed to be the highlight of Steve’s life?

His mind started back up again when he noticed the clothes you were packing into the suitcase. They were his.

“What— Honey, what are you doing?”

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped, shoving everything he owned into one of his suitcases. “And if you really want to know, I’m packing. Because if you really love Nancy that much, you can go sleep on her couch. I’m not sharing my bed or this house with a cheating asshole.”

Steve’s chest deflated, struggling to catch another breath. “What?”

“You heard me. You made the choice to sleep with another woman. A married woman. Now deal with the consequences.” The zipping of the suitcase on the bed punctuated your words, and Steve watched, practically glued to the floor as you hauled it out of the room and into the hallway.

It wasn’t until it thumped heavily down the stairs that Steve jumped, legs finally kicking back into gear.

Your footsteps followed the tumbling suitcase. Steve watched from the top of the steps as you grabbed it, and he followed you as you moved to the front door, wrenching it open.

“Y/n, Y/n, wait—”

Steve was unable to stop you as you tossed it out onto the paved walkway, the suitcase skidding along the concrete as you turned to look back at him.

“Get the hell out of my house.”

Upon catching the look in your eye, the fury mixed with unimaginable despair, Steve knew there was nothing to be done to salvage your relationship. As he passed you by, Steve stopped at the threshold and whispered, “I’m sorry,”

You didn’t acknowledge him as he walked out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

And with the click of the lock latching, and the metal door cooling your skin as you pressed your forehead against it, you let the dam break. Sobs wracked your body, shaking your bones as you slid to the floor, curling up against the front door.

Steve Harrington had once promised that he was all yours. But promises get broken, and people, more often than not, turn out to be liars.

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader

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newtthetranswriter · 3 days

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Could I request Gojo x male reader where the reader is a ballet dancer who is a part of the Zenin clan but ran away when they were in high school and Gojo doesn't see him again till adulthood and Gojo falls in love all over again and reader never stopped being in love and they reconnect

Dancing with Curses

Word Count: 3822

Paring: Satoru Gojo x male Zenin Reader

Warning: talks of Gojo’s past arc, the Zenin clan is trash, Canon typical violence, possibly ooc Gojo, let me know if I missed anything

A/n: Hello again, I truly did enjoy writing all of your requests. They gave me just enough information to feel free with creating the story but still having a base to work off of. Anyway I hope you enjoy and as always remember to hydrate or diedrate.

Y/n Zenin may have been lucky enough to be born with a decent cursed technique but the fact that he had made it clear he was not interested in following the tradition of being a sorcerer, made it so he was looked down upon by the whole clan. For years he tried to fight the system but as the time for high school approached, Y/n was forced to make a choice. He decided that he would follow his family's wishes for just long enough to get enough money to escape the world he grew up in. For him going to Jujutsu High was just a stepping stone to reach his goal, he never expected to add another item to the list of things his family hated him for.

As previously mentioned, Y/n just wanted to save enough money to escape from the world of Jujutsu, he never planned to catch the eyes of Satoru Gojo. Apparently Gojo had been enamored with how graceful Y/n was with his technique and how he was able to mix Jujutsu with ballet seamlessly. Y/n on the other hand had felt Gojo’s eyes on him, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t see the beauty in the user of the six eyes. But Y/n knew that if he let himself fall or grow attached he would be further trapped in this dark world. So Y/n put his emotions in a box and distanced himself.

Finally after almost three years of dealing with the chaos and horrors of the world Y/n left. Having one of his underclassmen die in the line of duty, followed by one of his classmates turning against them, Y/n was done. He couldn’t handle the thought of spending anymore time watching people die for no reason, or seeing people who were once all about protecting turning to murder. So he gathered his belongings and left in the middle of the night. Leaving the world of Jujutsu behind, almost completely.

Being an outcast from a young age Y/n knew the signs of the Zenins pushing kids out of the inner circle. And even if it was still early and there were a few years left for her technique to develop, Y/n had a gut feeling Maki would need someone on her side. So before he completely wrote off the Zenin clan, he wrote Maki a letter. The girl was barely 4 but was able to understand the simple contents of the letter. Y/n had simply explained that he was always there for her if she needed anything and asked her to not share the existence of the letter with anyone. He also left his new phone number, telling her to call if she ever needed anything. After leaving the letter with his young cousin he left.

When it became clear to the Zenin clan as a whole that Y/n had up and ran away, they decided to act like he never existed. Writing his disappearance off as a blessing to not have to deal with him ever again. While most of the Jujutsu world moved on from the sudden loss, Satoru was unable to follow their lead. He spent the better part of five years looking for him. Unfortunately for him, Y/n did not want to be found and managed to hide himself well. Satoru eventually gave up.

Fast forward eleven years, and Y/n had put very little thought into the world he left behind. He took his freedom and did what he wanted. He became a professional dancer, letting his worries wash away. It was a relief to not think about death and curses everyday. But alas all good things come to an end at some point.

After a particularly tiring performance Y/n felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Seeing that the id indicated it was the one person he kept in touch with, he answered. “Hey, Maki what’s up? Is everything ok?” He asked, concerned. Even though Maki was only four when she got the letter from Y/n she respected his wishes and managed to keep it secret all these years. The reason Y/n became concerned was that when Maki got a phone they agreed she would only call if something was seriously wrong, otherwise she would text monthly just to check in.

The calm teen’s response nearly startled the man. “I know you said you would never return to Jujutsu High, but we need all the help we can get.” Maki explained, there was a hint of worry in her voice and Y/n knew that something was seriously wrong if Maki was asking him to come back. Before Y/n could ask for more information, Maki continued. “Some crazy guy declared war on Jujutsu Society and even though we have Gojo on our side everyone seems worried. There has been an influx of Sorcerers on campus and even Gojo seems concerned. I normally wouldn’t ask for you to come back but if Gojo is worried wouldn’t that mean having all hands on deck be the best course of action.”

Y/n took a moment to think about what Maki had told him. If someone declared war on Jujutsu Society then no big deal, curse users are stupid. But if said person had Gojo worried about it then there was only one person who could be leading this fight. Knowing that fact led Y/n to make a choice he never thought he would. “If it’s bad enough for Gojo to be worried, then having as many sorcerers as possible is a good idea. I’ll be there in the morning.” He knew he would likely regret going back to his old life but he knew the reality, it’s almost impossible to leave the Jujutsu world and stay gone.

“Thank you, I know you hate all of this but I’m sure you’ll be able to leave again when everything is done.” With that Y/n said a quick goodbye and hung up the phone. If he was really going to be returning to Jujutsu Society, he knew there was a very slim chance of ever getting out again, that is if he even managed to survive the impending war.

The next day as he promised Maki, he made his way to Tokyo. When he reached the path leading to the hidden highschool, he paused. Debating actually entering the barrier that protected the school and alerting everyone of his presence or just turning around and telling Maki he couldn’t help out. But before he could chicken out and run away again, he felt the presence of familiar cursed energy. Looking up at the stairs that would seal his fate of being part of this fight stood the one person he hoped he could avoid, Satoru Gojo.

It was clear that Gojo had changed since Y/n last saw him, having swapped out his usual dark sunglasses for white badges wrapped around his eyes, his hair was also longer and stood up with makeshift blindfold in place. Seeing the white haired male sent feelings Y/n had long suppressed bubbling to the surface.

It wasn’t any better for the Strongest Sorcerer. He couldn’t believe his eyes, even if he knew that his cursed technique is never wrong, his heart had a hard time believing that the Y/n Zenin was standing in front of him. Gojo had so many questions, like why did he run away, why didn’t he say anything, and most of all why is he back. Snapping out of his thoughts, Gojo moved down the stairs quickly, taking two at a time with ease thanks to his long legs.

“What are you doing here?” It came out harsher than he intended, but with recent events and the bubbling of long forgotten feelings, Gojo couldn’t help it.

Shaking his head to clear the fog, Y/n took in the tall man in front of him. “Well hello to you, Gojo. For the record I’m only here because Maki said that someone declared war and it had even you worried. And knowing you only one person could make you worried about a silly threat. So here I am, isn’t better to have extra hands on bored than facing Geto with fewer people.” Y/n answered, accidentally letting it slip that Maki had been able to contact him all this time. “Now that I’m here, would you mind telling me what exactly Geto is planning.”

Ignoring the request for information about the situation, Gojo focused more on the mention of his student. “Since when has Maki been able to contact you, she was like four when you left. Why would she call you for help?” When Y/n had left after the worry of what happened had passed, Gojo had been angry, and now that anger was showing itself all over again.

“Yes Gojo, Maki was four when I left. But you forget I was also raised in the hell scape that is the Zenin house. I also know what it looks like when those douchebags start making a child an outcast. When I left I gave her my phone number and told her if she needed me she could call. And you would never guess what happened. She saw that her teacher was worried over some psychopath declaring war on the people she cares about and called someone she trusts to ask for help. I’m not here for anyone but her.” Y/n clarified, and it was clear from his tone that he truly meant it. He was only coming back to the world of curses to help his young cousin. Not giving Gojo a chance to respond, Y/n brushed past him heading up the steps into the base of Jujutsu Sorcerers.

Gojo was left stunned by his own stupidity. The only guy he can remember ever truly having feelings for was right in front of him, and instead of expressing his joy of seeing him again he stuck his foot in his mouth. Watching after Y/n as he left, Gojo began thinking of ways to apologize for what just happened and ways to hopefully convince Y/n to stay even after they beat Geto.

On December 24th, Y/n opted to stay at Jujutsu High with Maki and Yuta as a line of defense just in case. Afterall he wasn’t technically a member of Jujutsu Society so it’s not like the Higher ups could actually tell him what to do. He also had a bad feeling about them sending everyone except a couple Assistant supervisors to the front lines. If Geto had asked Yuta to join his cause wouldn’t that mean he had an interest in the boy. So when the veil was lowered over the school, Y/n jumped into action.

He knew he didn’t stand much chance against a special grade like Geto, but he couldn’t just let the lunatic kill a young sorcerer. Y/n’s technique had only earned him the status of Grade 1 back in highschool, but that was eleven years ago and this would be his first fight since he left. He could only hope he still had the strength to hold off the Curse User long enough for help to arrive.

His own fight with Geto didn’t last long before a new contender entered the courtyard where the two adults were exchanging blows. Having also noticed the veil, Maki opted to join the fight. So now it was two on one, the two Zenin outcasts vs. the special grade Suguru Geto. The cousins were able to hold off Geto for about thirty minutes before Geto got the upper hand. The younger of the two had been severely injured, having likely multiple broken bones and severe cuts leaving her half conscious in a pool of her own blood. The older of the two was not much better off. Y/n had sustained a few broken ribs, one of which he wouldn’t be surprised to find out if it was digging into his lung as it was becoming difficult to breathe. But he was still able to stand and so he was still able to fight.

There was a brief moment that allowed Y/n to catch his breath, and that was when Geto paused, announcing a hole was made in the barrier. He seemed confident enough that whoever it was would be too slow and he could beat Y/n and take Yuta before they arrived. Y/n took in a few deep breaths, sensing the cursed energy of two people approaching fast. Seeing that Geto wasn’t reacting to it, Y/n waited until the wall exploded next to the long haired man before striking again.

Unfortunately even with the added help of Panda and Toge, they were still unable to beat him. When they turned their backs on Geto to check on Maki, the curse user took the chance to take out the oldest of the group. Striking Y/n in the back with curse, Geto managed to force the broken rib that was already threatening to puncture one of his lungs right through said lung. The force of the blow knocked what little air Y/n had in his chest out, and now with the loss of function in one of his lungs it was nearly impossible for Y/n to catch his breath. The two first years who were still able to fight tried to fight back but were unsuccessful.

Y/n fought to stay awake and even tried to warn Yuta who had appeared on the scene to run away, but alas with barely any oxygen getting into his body, he could barely make a sound. He was fading in and out of consciousness and couldn’t help but wish for Shoko to be there to heal his wounds. Slowly suffocating was really fucking painfull. The last thing he remembered before blacking out completely was Yuta using Rika to move the four injured sorcerers to safety and applying his own reversed curse technique to them. As the world faded Y/n silently thanked Gojo for not executing the young special grade.

Unlike the other three who woke up soon after Yuta beat Geto, Y/n was still unconscious three days later. While Yuta had been able to heal the majority of the injuries y/n had sustained, it seemed Shoko was needed for some of the more intense ones. When word got to Gojo that Y/n was injured and that even after Shoko had been able to treat his wounds was still asleep, Gojo was worried. He spent as much time as he could spare sitting by his bed in the infirmary.

Gojo spent the time thinking. Debating on how to thank Y/n for risking his life for the young sorcerers and trying to decide if it would be a good time to tell him he loved him. Yeah Gojo had officially decided that he loved Y/n Zenin, it wasn’t just a school crush. Having spent eleven years apart and suddenly seeing him again reminded him of everything he loved about Y/n. Even though he admitted to himself that he loved him, he couldn’t help but think that maybe telling him would be a curse to the man who clearly just wanted to escape the world of Jujutsu.

Caught up in his own reminiscing, he failed to notice that Y/n had started to wake up. He only noticed when he heard the quiet groan from next to him. Looking over he could see Y/n squinting his eyes at the light from the open window, and trying to take in his surroundings while still laying flat on the bed. Gojo quickly stood up, closing the blinds to darken the room, and then moved to help Y/n sit up. “Here let me help you sit up.” He said, causing Y/n to look at him bewildered. “I know I was rude the last time we talked but I was worried when they said you still didn’t wake up after both Yuta and Shoko used rct on you.” Gojo explained quickly.

Taking a moment to process the words said to him, Y/n looked around the room. Seeing a glass of water on the bed side table, he quickly took a drink before speaking. “How long have I been asleep? And what happened to the kids, is everyone okay?” He wasn’t that worried about himself, his main concern was whether or not the young sorcerers had made it out of the battle alive.

“Everyone is fine. Well, everyone on our side, that is, the kids are all okay. They’re taking a few days to relax before getting back to training. As for how long you were asleep for, well it's been about three days.” Gojo informed him. “And before you ask, Geto won’t be a problem anymore.” His tone of voice shifted from glad to something lingering with sadness.

Picking up on the change of tone Y/n understood what he was implying. “I’m sorry for your loss, I know you were really close before everything. But it’s great to hear that the kids are okay.” He said truthfully. Taking a moment to think of what to say next, one thing popped into his mind and he couldn’t shake it. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you have some important mission that only the Strongest can deal with?” Y/n asked, trying to switch the subject.

Having spent three days thinking over and planning for how to speak his mind didn’t prepare him for what he was going to say. “Um, I just wanted to express my thanks for you risking your life to protect the first years. If you hadn’t decided to show up or stay behind while we all went to the front line, who knows what would have happened to those four. I mean sure Panda probably would have been ok, but the others might not have been so lucky.” Gojo thanked him.

Y/n nodded along, but that didn’t fully answer his question. Gojo was there when he woke up, if he just wanted to say thank you then he could have done it after someone else told him Y/n was awake. “I think they would have been just fine. Maki is a strong fighter and Toge has a great understanding of his technique. And Yuta has a surprisingly great understanding of cursed energy for someone who just learned about curses a few months ago. But the strength of your students aside, Why are you here? And don’t say it’s just to say thank you. You were here when I woke up, if you just wanted to thank me then you could have gone about your day and then thanked me when someone told you I was awake.” He confronted the white haired male.

Gojo scratched the back of his head trying to decide if he should say he just happened to stop by to check on him right before he woke, or if he should tell Y/n the truth. Realizing he had been quiet for too long and that if he did lie Shoko would probably rat him out either way, he came to the conclusion that honesty was the best policy. “Well, I’ve kinda been here the whole time. Like I said before I was really worried when Shoko told me you hadn’t woken up after being treated. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained. Watching as Y/n’s face shifted from confusion to shock, Gojo couldn’t stop himself from talking more. “And I know this is probably a terrible time to bring this up, especially with how I reacted when you showed up the other day. But I really care about you Y/n. When you left back in highschool, I thought something terrible happened to you and I searched for you for years. I eventually figured that if you went through the struggle of leaving with out a trace there was probably a reason and so I stopped looking. But the worry turned to hurt and anger and I guess seeing you suddenly and hearing that you only came back for Maki’s sake, made that anger bubble up again. I understand you left for a reason and you probably want to leave as soon as possible after all this life is hell for anyone. But I do want you to know that you mean a lot to me.” This was the first time Y/n had seen or heard of Gojo letting his emotions out in such a clear way. Gojo was always calm and only really expressed deep emotions when fighting or teaching, so having him say all of that really shocked Y/n.

Y/n took a few moments to process everything Gojo said, before making the second life changing decision of the month. “While I left because this life is taxing and full of hardship, I don’t know if I can abandon it again. I wouldn’t mind sticking around and helping teach the next generation of sorcerers.” Y/n explained. “This isn’t a permanent situation though and I will have some requirements that need to be accepted before I commit to it. After all, I can't leave the ones I care about to fight alone if I’m able to lend a helping hand.” he finished making his intentions to at least stick around for a short while clear.

Even though Gojo was happy to hear that Y/n was going to stick around, he was confused by the wording of the last sentence. “Wait you said ‘the ones’ you care about, I thought you came back for Maki.” He couldn’t help but ask.

Y/n just laughed before responding. “You’re right I did come back for Maki. But there are more people here that I care about than just her. Now I may have just woken up from a three day nap, but I’m exhausted so if you don’t mind I’m going back to sleep.” With that Y/n layed back down rolling to face away from the tall sorcerer.

“Who else do you care about here? I’m confused.” Gojo really wanted answers.

Y/n responded even though he was half asleep. “That’s for me to know and for you to figure out Satoru.” And with that Gojo was left as the only one awake in the room.

He sat in silence processing what he had been told. And when he registered that y/n had not called him Gojo but used his first name for the first time, he couldn’t hide his smile. Deciding to let Y/n rest in peace he left to inform everyone about Y/n’s decision to consider staying at Jujutsu high for a while.

#x reader #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x male reader #jjk x male reader #x male reader #newt writes #Newt's 2024 pride event

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nhlclover · 7 hours

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: in the wake of your painful break-up with jack, you find comfort and blossoming feelings with luke.

warning: part two to this fic, bsf ! luke hughes x reader, jack hughes x reader, angst, jack once again being a terrible (ex)boyfriend, little tiny bit of swearing

word count: 2.93k

In the days that followed your birthday, your head felt like it was in a blender. The entire day had left you confused, hurt, and angry. The sting of Jack's absence was a constant ache, and the silence that followed was deafening. You hadn't heard from him at all — not even a ‘sorry for bailing on your birthday’ text. The uncertainty about your relationship status gnawed at you, making you question everything.

Luke had been a steady presence during this time, though he couldn’t provide any more information about Jack’s whereabouts or reasons. He had barely spoken to his brother since their blowup at the arena. Their encounters were limited to brief, awkward glimpses at the rink, where Luke made a point to avoid prolonged interaction. In the meantime, Luke had been staying over at your apartment and occasionally at Jesper's. You hated how you had come between two brothers, creating a rift between two people who had once been so close.

The days dragged on, each one marked by the same painful silence from Jack. You tried to go about your daily routine, but the weight of your unresolved feelings made it difficult to focus. Work was a welcome distraction, though your colleagues noticed the change in your demeanor.

One evening, when you were sitting on your couch, a knock at your door drew your focus off the baseball game playing on your TV. When you opened the door, you were met with a remorseful-looking Jack.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

You hesitated momentarily, wondering if it was a good decision, but ultimately stepped aside and let Jack in. Jack had spent the last couple of days in a haze, his argument with Luke replaying in his head. His words had been harsh but true, piercing through the fog of Jack's self-deception and forcing him to confront the reality of his actions.

As he sat across from you at your kitchen table, the silence between you two was almost unbearable. Jack's eyes wandered, unable to meet yours, focusing instead on the bracelets on his wrists.

He took a deep breath, his eyes finally meeting yours. “I’m so sorry… for everything, y/n,” he said. “I know I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and I let you down, not just on your birthday but so many times before that.”

You felt your emotions rising in your chest, tears brimming in your eyes as you remembered your birthday. You remembered waiting throughout the night as everyone who wasn’t your boyfriend arrived to celebrate your birthday. The memory of the pitying glances you’d received as the hours passed by only amplified your heartbreak.

Jack reached out, taking your hand that was resting on the table in his. His touch was tentative as if he feared you might pull away. “I’ve been a fucking idiot,” he continued. “I never meant to make you feel like you weren’t important to me, and I know I’ve messed up more times than I can count, but… I don’t want to lose you. I need a second chance.”

You considered his words but couldn’t help but feel that they rang empty. You took a shaky breath, pulling your hand away gently. “Jack, it’s not a second chance at this point… it’s a fourth or a fifth,” you said. “The amount of times you’ve left me sitting in front of my mirror, my makeup completely done and so excited to go on a date with my boyfriend, only to have you text me that you can’t make it? I can’t keep doing that.”

Jack’s face fell, the true extent of his non-committal behavior sinking in. He looked down at the table, unable to meet your gaze. “I know, y/n… I’ve been awful, and I’ve let you down so many times. I can’t even begin to make up for all the times I wasn’t there for you.”

You wiped a tear from your cheek, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s not just about the dates, Jack. It’s about feeling like I’m the last thing on your mind, like an afterthought.”

Jack’s eyes snapped back to yours, soft and desperate. “You’re not an afterthought, y/n.”

“Jack…” you shook your head. “If I was everything to you, you wouldn’t have missed my birthday. You wouldn’t have let me down time and time again. I can’t keep being disappointed. I can’t keep letting myself get pushed around like this. I feel like I’m a little girl again, crushing on the older brother of my best friend, wondering if he’ll ever give me the time of day or even spare me a glance.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped as the weight of your words hit him, each sentence like a physical blow. He knew you were right. He knew he had no defense. No valid excuse. He could see the pain in your eyes, shown with every tear that came down from your sullen eyes.

Jack recognized he was at the point of no return. You weren’t going to let him keep acting like this, at least not with you. A silence fell between the two of you as you read Jack’s anguished eyes, realizing he’d backed down.

“You should go, Jack,” you said softly, the finality of the words hanging in the air.

Jack nodded, standing up. He hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say something, but knew there was nothing left to say, nothing that could change the damage that had been done. He simply walked to your side, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, before leaving you sitting at your kitchen table, alone.

The door closed behind him with a soft click. You sat there a moment, the still silence of the apartment pressing on you. The reality of the situation finally hit you, and you felt a sob rise in your throat. You buried your head in your hands, the tears coming hard and fast, falling to the wood below you.

It was a mix of sadness and relief that washed over you. The sadness of losing someone you once loved deeply, and the relief of finally choosing yourself.

In the aftermath of your breakup with Jack, life felt like a whirlwind of emotions. Everything from pain to sadness to solace passed by you. Luke, true to his nature, was by your side through it all. The pain of Jack's absence was tempered by Luke's unwavering support. Slowly, you began to see him in a new light.

At first, it was the little things. Luke always knew how to make you laugh; his lighthearted jokes became a soothing balm for your broken heart. You began to notice how he always seemed to be there for you, how he never seemed too busy or distracted to listen. One evening, after you’d complained about your day at work, he came over with takeout and offered to watch the new season of Bridgerton, despite having complained about it previously. As you ate and laughed together, a warmth in your chest began to develop.

The next few weeks brought more of Luke's comforting presence. He came over to fix your leaky faucet that your super had neglected to fix despite your incessant asking. Each hangout also functioned as his way to check in on you, ensuring you were doing okay since the break-up. One night, he brought you a bouquet of flowers, just because he thought you’d like them.

The repeated small gestures spoke volumes to you, changing the way you saw Luke. You realized that he’d always been there, quietly supporting you, understanding you in ways that Jack never did. That realization hit you during one of your late-night conversations, as Luke listened intently while you told a story from your day.

The days passed and the relationship you once had as children came back in full force. You started looking forward to the moments you got to spend with Luke. You began to crave his company, seeking him out even for the simplest things like grabbing coffee or taking a walk in the park, even offering to work out with him despite having to go through his intense hockey regimes.

It all came to a head one evening as you sat on your balcony, watching the sun set upon the city. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, the cool breeze blowing over your skin. You turned to look at him, the setting sun casting a golden glow on his face. It was in that moment that you realized just how much he meant to you.

The more time you spent with Luke, the stronger your feelings grew.

However, with your blossoming feelings came an overwhelming sense of fear and guilt. Fear, because acknowledging these emotions might disrupt the delicate balance of your lives, and disrupt the friendship you'd both held dear for years. Guilt, because crushing on your ex-boyfriend's little brother, even if you knew him first, felt like a cardinal sin, and the idea of causing a rift between them was almost unbearable.

You found yourself in a near-constant state of inner turmoil. The joy of being with Luke was tempered by the anxiety of the potential fallout. What if Luke didn't feel the same way? What if he did? The questions spiraled in your mind, each one bringing a new wave of dread. You were scared of complicating things, of making a mess of something so precious. Your friendship with Luke was one of the most important things in your life, and the thought of losing it because of your feelings was terrifying.

As these emotions churned within you, you started to withdraw slightly, afraid that any small gesture might betray your true feelings. You became hyper-aware of every interaction, second-guessing yourself constantly. Did that touch linger too long? Was that compliment too heartfelt? You began to isolate yourself, creating a distance in an attempt to protect what you had, but this only made the feelings more confusing.

Meanwhile, Luke noticed the shift in your behavior. He brushed it off, as he knew how stressed you were due to work, but when it remained for weeks at a time, he couldn’t ignore the growing distance. He noticed the way you hesitated around him, whether it was when you were going in for a hug or when you laughed, and it was missing the usual genuine ring to it. It was as if a barrier had formed between you, sending profound unease through him.

He started to question himself, wondering if he'd done something to cause your withdrawal. Was he too forward in his gestures of friendship? Did he unknowingly overstep boundaries in his efforts to make you feel comfortable around him again? As he reflected on your interactions and the days spent together, doubts crept into his mind. Maybe he misread your signals, mistaking your friendliness for something more. The fear of having made you uncomfortable ate away at him, casting a shadow over his every interaction with you.

Luke finally decided he couldn't ignore the growing tension any longer. He knew he needed to confront you, not only to ease his own concerns but also because he cared deeply about your well-being. You’d been dodging his calls, coming up with excuses to avoid one-on-one hangouts with him. It pained you to do that, especially after experiencing that with Jack, but you didn’t know if you could be in the same room as Luke without the fear of ruining things coming back.

Since you’d been almost completely ignoring him, Luke knew his only option was to go straight to your place and confront you directly. After a game, he left nearly as soon as media was done, speeding to your place, where he knew you’d be. Because, even though you were ignoring him, he knew you would’ve watched the whole game, your eyes glued to Luke whenever he graced the ice.

The knock at your door at eleven at night sent a worry through your core, but when you saw the curly-headed boy on the other side, the worry subsided before morphing into a different type of fear.

“Can I come in?” Luke asked when you opened the door. He was right about knowing you had watched the game, glancing at the ESPN post-game highlights playing on your TV.

You nodded silently, letting Luke inside. He didn’t sit down, instead standing in the middle of the room, fiddling with the bracelets on his wrists. The sight was all too familiar to when Jack came over a couple of months before. The reminder that you were crushing on your ex's younger brother pounded in your mind, discomfort washing over you.

He noticed the tension in your posture, the way your gaze flickered nervously whenever he tried to meet it. “I… I can’t shake the feeling that something's off between us recently,” Luke said. “Is everything okay?”

Your heart clenched at the concern in his voice. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, putting up a mask of sincerity.

Luke could tell instantly that your vague answer was a lie. The way your arms wrapped tightly around your torso, one that donned his hoodie. “Y/n, if you think I’m believing that, you’re out of your goddamn mind,” Luke said.

You swallowed hard as you looked into his eyes, so full of warmth and genuine care, you found yourself unable to keep up the facade. You let out a sigh, shoulders slumping as you finally admitted, "No, everything's fucked."

His brows furrowed in concern, and he took a small step closer, a silent invitation for you to continue. "Luke, I… I don't know how to say this," you started, your voice trembling slightly. "But being around you lately… it's been… difficult."

Luke’s stomach churned as his fears suddenly came to fruition. He was right; he overstepped and misread your actions. You watched as Luke's expression softened even more, his eyes reflecting a mixture of confusion and concern. "Difficult?" he asked gently.

You took another deep breath, your hands trembling slightly. "I’ve been avoiding you because… I realized… I have feelings for you, Luke. And it scared me. Not just because of Jack and everything with him, but because you’ve been my friend for so long. I didn’t want to mess things up between us."

Luke's posture softened, his concern melting. "Y/n…"

You pressed on, unable to stop the flood of words. "I’m so sorry if this makes things awkward or if it complicates your relationship with Jack. I didn’t want to burden you with my feelings, so I tried to keep them locked away but being around you… God, it got so hard and I couldn’t keep pretending they weren’t there. I’m sorry for everything, I’ve screwed everything up."

You didn’t know when the tears started, but you felt them slide down your cheeks, dripping onto Luke’s hoodie you wore. When you finally finished, you looked at Luke, your heart in your throat. He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Are you done freaking out now?”

You blinked, taken aback by his calm response. “What?” you croaked out.

Luke smiled, a genuine warmth that reached his eyes. “Y/n, I like you too. Fuck… I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, hope mingling with disbelief. “You do?”

As kids, your parents would always tease about the two of you maybe liking each other, which you’d always deny. Quinn would always poke fun at Luke, saying he was in love with you, but you always brushed it off. Cause you were just friends.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. I've been… scared, too. Scared of losing what we have, of messing things up. But… I can't ignore how I feel, either.”

Relief and joy flooded through you, mingling with the lingering fear. “So… what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Luke took a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you, taking your hands in his. “Now, we take things one step at a time. And we’ll talk to Jack when the time is right. We figure this out together.” Luke told you. You felt your heart beat steady, Luke’s calming presence taking over. “But for now, can I kiss you?”

Your heart soared, and you nodded, a smile breaking through your tears. “Please.”

Luke's hand gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears that lingered. He leaned in slowly as you closed your eyes, anticipation fluttering in your stomach. The moment his lips touched yours, a spark ignited between you, sending a rush of warmth through your body.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “I've wanted to do that for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Me too,” you admitted, feeling a weight lift off your chest.

Luke pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you tightly. The two of you stood there for a moment, just holding each other and savoring the moment. Eventually, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him. "What about Jack? How do we tell him?"

Luke sighed. “We’ll be honest with him. I’m sure he’ll be happy for us... Actually maybe not." Luke said, remembering his brother's words during their spat a couple months back. "But whatever happens, we’ll deal with it together.”

You nodded, Luke’s words allowing your nerves to calm a little. "Okay. Together."

#luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #jack hughes #new jersey devils #angst

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lulublack90 · 1 day

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Prompt 11 - Disagree

@jegulus-microfic June 11, Word count 563

Previous part First part

“So what are we doing today then?” James asked after they’d cleared away the breakfast things.

“I don’t know, darling. You could take me dancing, I suppose, and then we could promenade,” Sirius snickered. James threw a tea towel at him.

“I’ll rephrase. Regulus, love. What would you like to do today?” He asked Regulus directly. Regulus got that wicked glint in his eyes that James now knew meant trouble.

“I don’t know, darling. You could take me dancing, I suppose, and then we could promenade.” James only just resisted rolling his eyes. Deciding to ignore the brothers, he turned to Remus.

“Any other suggestions?” Remus looked at him thoughtfully.

“The museum and then pizza?”

“Sold,” James offered his arm to Remus and Remus happily linked it, as they headed towards the door.

“Hey!” Regulus and Sirius yelled out together and scrambled to the door after them.

They spent the rest of the morning and afternoon wandering around the exhibits, Sirius and Regulus pointing different pieces out and expanding on the information given. James came away with his head bursting with knowledge and a souvenir keyring.

“Where do you want to eat?” He asked them, “Or should we get a takeaway?”

“I quite liked the idea of pizza,” Regulus said. “But can we get the fancy ones from Antonio’s?” James was about to agree when Sirius butted in.

“What, you don’t want the greasy goodness of Marco’s?” Sirius teased.

“No, Marco’s is for when we’re drunk. Antonio’s is for when we’re actually having dinner,” Regulus argued.

“Well, who said we weren’t drinking?” Sirius argued back.

“No, Antonio’s,” Regulus continued.

“I disagree,” Sirius smirked and James guessed he was just trying to rile Regulus up. “We can order Marco’s, then while we wait, if we do a line of shots each, we’ll be ready for when it arrives.”

James stopped listening to them argue and pulled out his phone. He found the only nearby pizza place called Antonio’s that had more gourmet-looking pizzas and started scrolling through the menu selecting what he wanted. He passed his phone to Remus, who did the same. He then handed it to Regulus, who, with a smug look on his face, selected his choice.

“Either you tell me what you want or I’m ordering you the cauliflower one.” He warned his brother. Sirius glowered at him.

“You wouldn’t dare,” He tried.

“5-4-3-2-1,” Regulus counted, dropping a finger down with each number.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sirius cried, “I want the one with all the meat and stuffed crust. Please,” He added at the end, not wanting to risk his dinner.

“Excellent,” James beamed as he clicked the order button. “That should be arriving just as we are,” They hopped on the bus and travelled back to Regulus and Sirius’s.

The pizza was delicious. It was James’s new favourite, and he demanded that they get it every time he came to visit. Regulus had agreed, but only after James had enclosed him in his arms and peppered him with kisses until he said yes.

They’d just settled in to watch a film when James’s phone rang.

“JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER!” Effie bellowed down the phone. “YOU HAD BETTER BE ALRIGHT!” There was a scuffle on the line and then Monty’s voice came through.

“Son, I told you to message her,” James winced and took the phone call out into the hall.

Next part

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ponder-the-orb · 2 days

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Common Ground

Pairing: Fem sorcerer Tav/Gale, (named elf tav: Ciri)

Word count: 2K

Summary: I just really wanted to write a drabble that involved some sorcerer/wizard bickering.

***

“Shit.”

The sewing needle jabs into Ciri’s finger and a single drop of blood oozes onto the material in her other hand. She stares at the stain, a poppy blooming amongst the dark green fabric of her robe. Her only robe. One of perhaps five things she’d managed to cling to her person as a tentacle plucked her from the crowded road at Baldur’s Gate and promptly threw her into this mess.

She shoves her finger in her mouth, the tang of rust and salt spreading over her tongue as she throws the robe to the muddy bank at her feet. It’s hardly ruining it further. Despite her poor attempts at needlework it’s still riddled with holes thanks to an acid coated arrow that had been shot by a more competent goblin this afternoon. They’d promptly felt the sting of her flames after that.

She rubs her bare arms, adjusts herself on the log she’d made her perch for the evening. It’s a dim spot at the very edge of this makeshift campsite, her patch of stillness amongst the reeds and silt of this unknown riverbank. She stares at the flat mirror of the moon on the water’s surface and lets herself fall back into the same fantasy she’d been repeating for the past day: this could be any other job, any other group of hired swords she was stuck with in order to fetch some expensive trinket or kill a wandering band of monsters. Easy. Normal. A few days of work before she’s hunting down another gig in the next town.

Her seconds of calm abruptly shatter as her other campmate squirms in her head. The parasite. Fat, angry and days away from making her a mind flayer. Until recently they were just flickers of imagination, stories of teeth and tentacles used to scare children and intrigue professors, not the solid wet beings that had stared at her with such malice on the Nautaloid.

She presses her temple. She’d already spent far too long wondering if she’d look exactly like them if whatever is protecting them vanishes, about how much it will hurt when her skull splits and blood spills from every shaking orifice. A soul extinguished like a match against a hurricane.

She presses harder, trying to drown the image out with the sounds of the camp: the grind of the Gith’s sword on her whetstone, a hearty laugh from that monster hunter desperate to find his infernal target, the solemn whisper of the shadowed cleric praying to whatever God she thinks will help them.

She grunts as it squirms more vigorously, almost like it enjoys sipping the taste of her ebbing sanity.

“Is the little one ruining your peace?”

She looks up and meets the dark eyes of the wizard she’d pulled out of a rock and regretted almost every moment since. Gale. Last she’d checked he’d seemed more than happy going on about some Waterdhavian recipe at the cooking pot and leaving her very much alone. A set up she’d hope would stay until morning.

She drops her hands. “It’s not just the parasite right now.”

He ignores her surliness and holds out a bowl. “You should eat something. We have had quite a day.”

She takes it with a quiet thanks and tries not to shudder as a pungent scent fills her nose. Stew would probably be the closest approximation to the thick brown liquid sloshing inside. Given the lack of real food they’d been able to find so far, she’d rather not guess what the viscous lumps floating on the surface are.

“I’ll eat later,” she says, placing the bowl at her feet.

Gale raises an eyebrow. “Ingredients may be sparse around here but I promise you it’s more than edible.”

“We’re eating out of bowls we raided from a crypt. Trust me, I am not worried about the taste.”

He looks down at her crumpled robe on the floor. “You know, I can fix that for you.” He flexes his fingers and a cool white light begins to swirl in his open hand. “A mending charm can only repair one tear at a time but if you give me a few minutes–”

“No thank you,” she interrupts firmly, grabbing the robe and throwing it behind the log. She’s perfectly aware of how cold her voice sounds, but right now she’s approximately one annoyance away from running into the neighbouring forest and letting her flames overcome her. The taste of soot and cinder would most likely be preferable to whatever is swirling by her feet anyway.

The light in his hand fades along with his smile. She waits for him to retreat but he stands still, eyes drifting from her face to her shoulder. In naught but her thin undershirt, the patchwork of burn scars is completely on show, trailing pink and rough from her jaw and down her left arm.

“Does it hurt?” he asks after a moment.

She shakes her head. “They’re decades old now.”

“Ah, you mentioned you were an adventurer before all this. Scars often tell the best stories and I am willing to bet that there’s a fine one behind those.” He takes a step towards her but seems to stop himself. He rests a hand against his chest before dropping it back to his side, something unreadable flickering across his expression. “But not one you need to share, especially to a near-stranger,” he quickly adds.

It’s her turn to raise an eyebrow. A wizard with a secret is hardly new. Every one she’d had the displeasure of working with had come with some kind of baggage hanging around their neck like a particularly garish amulet. Nothing she ever worried herself with and she’s certainly not starting now.

“No story here. It was just an accident.” She runs her thumb over the scales on her cheekbones, the only part of the dragon that manifested outside of her blood. “The fire magic presented itself when I was maybe eleven summers old and any child suddenly able to conjure flames is going to want to see exactly what they can do. Unfortunately I had not yet fully understood just what that meant.” The moment is still carved as deep as those scars in her memory: her room burning, skin screaming with pain as she tried to calm the flames tearing through the house, the look of fear on her family’s faces when she finally awoke and seen nothing else but black smoke billowing in thick sheets against the moon.

“It was my first and most important lesson. Both fire and magic must be respected. Now only those I choose will burn… and occasionally my hair.” She runs her hand through the uneven ends curling around her chin. Hardly beautiful but she had given up caring how it looked after her mother had taken a knife and silently hacked off the charred pieces.

Ciri shakes the memory away, bracing herself for the inevitable. “Well go on then.”

“Pardon?”

“You are going to give me the exact same speech every other wizard who heard that story has. I cannot wait to hear which version. Usually it’s advice I don’t need on how to properly be one with magic. If I’m very lucky, it’s some haughty lecture about how sorcerers need to learn respect for the art and will never have true control of the weave because they are simply too ill-disciplined to try and learn.”

Gale crosses his arms, his eyebrows drawing down into a flat line. “Well I had hoped that I’d come off a tad more gracious than that in our short time together. Exactly how many ill-mannered wizards have you come across in your line of work?”

“More than enough. And I’m sure a wizard of such considerable renown has more than a few pointers for someone so clearly not studied in magic.” She wags her finger in an exaggerated impression as she parrots his own words back at him. The condescension had been palpable in his tone when he’d made that assumption of her, only her aching joints from the Nautaloid crash stopping her from shoving him right back into the portal she’d pulled him from.

It’s surprising to her that this tiff had not come any sooner, all the more surprising when she’s met with a sigh rather than an overly-worded retort.

“I can see how that might have come across,” he answers, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forgive me, but I was… am… rather desperate to locate any archmages that might be a stone’s throw from here. Wizards are usually well connected.”

“And you just assumed I did not know any.”

“Well, do you?”

She can practically hear the snicker caught between his teeth at her stony silence.

Gods does she want to punch that smug look off his face.

He sits down on the log next to her. “I am more than happy to lecture you with such a speech if you’d like. I can probably make it last all evening if it would help to cement what I suspect is already a fairly set opinion of both me and the wizarding profession in general. And feel free to give the standard response about how we are all hermit elitists jumped up on power and far too preoccupied with outdoing each other rather than actually working on furthering the good of the arcane. I imagine you have some fairly cutting words about how, despite the superiority complex we all apparently hold, it just takes one good punch or two glasses of strong whisky to put us down.”

She hides her smirk, a little disappointed that more articulate sorcerers than her had clearly got to him already. “More cutting than that if you can believe it. I’m not sure your ego could handle it.”

He chuckles. It’s a soft messy sound, perhaps the first thread of such an uptight persona finally loosening. Ciri doesn’t hide her smile this time. It’s almost nice to find a wizard who doesn’t seem to have an immovable rod shoved up their backside.

He turns towards her a little more, his voice dropping. “In my studies, I have seen first hand that there are countless ways to touch the weave, and while some may say that certain methods are more sophisticated than others –” his hands move in a precise square as he speaks, pausing only as he murmurs a quiet spell. “ –we feel its power equally.” A small orange flame ignites between them as he finishes.

She watches it flicker for a moment before opening her own hand. Magic warms through her like a breath, an equally bright flame appearing in her palm.

When her eyes catch his again, there’s something different shining there, warm and content as he sits back to watch his creation. Reverence.

A feeling she knows all too well.

Even when it’s shining on her own ruined skin, fire is still her. The raw force of her anger, the pulse of her passion, the magic singing in her blood. And here, small and tender as a heartbeat, her peace.

She watches him quietly, taking in the flickering details of his face as they brighten and dim under their joint light. There’s more gentleness to his features than she’d first gleaned, silver brushing through the hair by his ears, his eyes almost auburn in the light as they meet hers again.

All so very delicate. So… human.

It’s as she idly finds herself wondering if the paper-soft creases there are a product of laughter or stress that the world crashes back into the moment.

Some poor animal squeals in the woods beyond the river, both of them jerking upright and scanning the darkness for the source of the noise.

“Perhaps finding common ground is a better use of our time than trying to pick fights,” she murmurs when the quiet returns, quickly letting her flame whisper away in the breeze.

“Well common ground is often the foundation of a strong acquaintanceship. Who knows, perhaps there will be more to discover before we finally get these unwelcome passengers extracted.” His words are a little quicker than before as he dismisses his own fire and abruptly turns back towards the centre of camp. “With that in mind, we should probably get some rest soon if we are ever going to locate this missing druid.”

She follows him a step behind, stopping to throw a handful of kindling on the dying bonfire. She can’t quite place the feeling churning in her gut right now. Something far warmer than the dread that had been sitting there like a stone, soft and dense as smoke.

She ignores the similar heat in her face, chalks it up to the sudden scream and firmly decides to leave it at that.

“So no lecture then?” she calls as Gale lifts the flap of his tent.

He pauses there, throwing an altogether more devious smirk over his shoulder before he lets it swing closed behind him.

“If you ask nicely, I’ll indulge you another night.”

***

(These drabbles are being posted as part of my ongoing fic Broken Horizons. Read on AO3 here)

#bg3 fic #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #My writing #gale fic #gale x tav #mywriting

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thedreamlessnights · 2 days

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Give The Devil His Due - pt. 2

Gale x F!Reader

{part 1}

Warnings: Major BG3 Ending and Epilogue Spoilers. Mentions of death, the use of the Netherese orb, grieving and loss. Amnesia, self-hatred, guilt-tripping. Raphael being a dick.

Synopsis: Gale is back. He's real, and alive, and... he doesn't remember you. You should be happy, shouldn't you?

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hi all! Thank you so much for your patience as I got this chapter out. Life has been crazy, essentially. Apologies for the angst - next chapter will be happier, I promise! We'll also see more Gale then ♥

You must have sat on this balcony a hundred times in the past year. More, maybe. Sometimes, Tara curled up on your lap as you read a book, her purring a constant comfort. Other times, you fell asleep watching the ships sailing by and woke in the darkness.

The view was always beautiful, even in the storms. Crystal-blue skies against an aquamarine sea. Lavender sunrises that swirled with orange. Dark clouds, streaked with silvery flashes of light and the bone-shaking crashes of thunder. You can certainly see why Gale favored it.

Until about two hours ago, it was a place of comfort. Now, it feels wrong. Or rather, you do.

Every inch of your presence feels out of place. A transplant, neatly sutured into surrounding skin only to be rejected a year later.

The moments after you’d kissed him are nothing but a blur in your memory. The sheer, utter horror when he hadn't known you. Morena’s voice taking on an edge of panic. Your feet moving you away - anywhere, anywhere where you couldn’t see the look on his face anymore.

You’ve been sitting on this balcony ever since.

Before today, thinking of Gale was painful. Every thought was a fresh shard of ice plunging into the warmth of your chest, slowly thawing - until a new wound came to start the process over again. But it’s different now.

It’d be easier to deny this situation, to pretend that it isn’t really Gale in that room, but you know better. You know that it’s him, just as you know that darkness will follow the sun’s fading light and greet you with the shimmering stars.

Gale is alive, and he doesn’t know you.

Gale is alive, and every memory of him - his face, his words, your old life - feels like it’s rotting away in your chest. You’re grasping at every thought, determined to keep him from slipping away, but there's only so much you can prevent.

Even you have to admit, it’s better than you’d expected of a devil’s deal. You’ve spent the last year picturing all the ways it could go wrong, laying out the risks and estimating the reward. If I word things in a specific way, you thought, if I prepare for the loopholes, then perhaps I can avoid the worst outcomes.

But a part of you had always known that you could have ended up like Mayrina. Dragging around a corpse just to cling to that tiny scrap of hope that Gale might return.

Gods, you could have had so much worse. Why, then? Why had Raphael let you have this? What more could he possibly want from you?

This isn't the first time you’ve felt this way. During your travels, Astarion had made a deal with Raphael to learn more about the scars on his back, and the only thing required in return was Yurgir’s death. You made a deal to bring back the one you love, and you’ve gotten it only at the cost of his memories.

Your soul remains intact. Gale still knows his mother and his tressym. He’s alive. That’s enough, isn’t it?

No, your heart says. No, it isn’t. But you’ll survive, as you always have. You’ve had worse than this.

Nearby, there’s the rustling of fabric. You know who it is, even before she speaks.

“I thought I might find you here.” Morena’s voice is gentle, as though she’s afraid she’ll startle you away, but it’s filled with a fullness - a radiant warmth you’ve never heard before. She gives you a reassuring smile as she approaches, then sits at your side and reaches for your hand.

Your throat goes tight.

“My darling, I know this was your doing,” she says. Her voice is measured, as well as her face, but the crinkling at the corner of her warm brown eyes - Gale’s eyes - bleeds the joy she’s trying to hide into her expression.

There’s no point in lying to her. She’s much too perceptive for that. All you can manage is a small nod in response.

“It’s really him,” she breathes. Her voice is suddenly thin. Hollow, almost. “I always thought… if we could even get him back, he wouldn't be himself. But it’s him.”

Tears sting at your eyes, hot and unwelcome. “I know,” you say. Your voice chokes at the last second. “He doesn't remember me.”

“No,” Morena murmurs, “he doesn't.” She squeezes your hand, resting her other hand on your shoulder. The comfort feels more like pity, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You’d known, but the confirmation still hurts to hear.

“What does he remember, then?” you ask, slow and careful.

Hesitation flickers across her features. The hand on your shoulder slightly tightens. “You have to understand, he’s still very confused,” she starts. “His memories are muddled, grouped together. It’s entirely possible more will start coming back, if you just give him a little time-”

“Please, Morena,” you interrupt, desperate with anticipation. It’s always the not knowing that hurts you most. The cruelty of your mind that swirls out horrors that needn’t be there. “I need to know. Is it - is it everything but me? A hole in his mind where I used to be? How much of himself did he lose?”

She sighs, and her expression crumples. “It seems to be a… specific loss,” she says. “A cutoff point, really. Everything before the Netherese orb is perfectly intact. Everything after, well…”

She trails off, and her silence says the rest.

It isn't only you, then. It’s everything else you know of him. The tadpole, the Absolute, the Elder Brain. His friendships with the others. All the months of travel, and every single experience you shared. Even his year of isolation in the tower has been lost.

His abandonment from Mystra; her charge for his life.

Something cold and numb blooms under your skin, trailing from the nape of your neck down your spine. Your lungs don’t quite seem to fill with air.

You’d hoped he wouldn't have to bear the burden of remembering his own death, but this… counting the time after his death, two years worth of life has been all but turned to ash. Morena doesn’t know of it, and Tara only knows glimpses. Your precious memories of him only encapsulate a few months of his loss. Is he still the man you fell in love with?

The spinning under your feet is making it difficult to think. You need to speak with Raphael. You don’t even know what you’ll say to him, but at this point it hardly matters.

For a moment, you’re silent, almost forgetting Morena is there. Then, you remember her presence and swallow hard, forcing yourself to breathe. “I don’t think we should… tell him about me,” you start. “All of this… it’s enough for him to take in already. I would only complicate things.”

She gently pats your hand. “Your kiss said more than enough enough,” she replies, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Gale is a smart boy. Believe you me, he’s already pieced it together. Aspects of it, at least.”

Gods, what had come over you, kissing him like that? If you hadn't been so impulsive - if you had just waited a little longer, this would have been much simpler. The split would have been clean.

“Some time, then,” you land on. “I think it’s better for the both of us if I… if he - has time to process this. At least for now.”

Morena nods. “I can't pretend to know how incredibly difficult all of this must have been on you,” she says. “Whenever you need to come over, feel free. I’ll make an excuse for you.”

She gives you a wink, then rises to her feet and places a kiss on the top of your head. “He’ll come back to you,” she whispers. “I know it.”

Her words linger long after she’s gone.

The moment you’ve stumbled your way home, you’re met with a burst of orange light in the kitchen. You don't bother looking for the source - the scent of cinnamon and honey in the air says enough.

“My, my. Whatever happened to our poor resident wizard?” comes Raphael’s voice, a few feet to your side. “How… unfortunate that he’s lost his memory, don't you think?”

You’re in no mood for his games. You toss your things to the floor and meet his gaze dead-on, staring daggers at him. “What do you want, Raphael?”

“Tsk, tsk. What a temper,” Raphael purrs. “Aren't you satisfied? You got what you asked for. Gale Dekarios is alive and well. Of course, if you’re unhappy, I could always return him to the grave...”

You suck in a breath, attempting to dissipate your lingering fury. “I’m very happy,” you force out. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Raphael eyes you, tilts his head, and finally sprawls himself out on one of your chairs. He trails his fingers along the table, then hums. “You know, of your ragged little group, I’ve admired you in particular. Such ambition. You could have dominated the brain, had you really tried.”

He pauses, and his gaze seems to sear straight into your soul as he looks at you. “Tell me, why did you let Gale sacrifice himself? Were you afraid of yourself, little mouse? Afraid that, given the chance, you’d have taken the power you so desperately wanted?”

Your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily, the way they always do when your brain decides to relive this moment. No merciful sensory images to distract you. Nothing but sheer agony, even now, when he’s alive.

Fear. It’s what you remember most about that day. Regret had come afterward, but first it had been fear and exhaustion and pain. Stiff joints. Fatigued muscles. How in the hells am I supposed to go on like this? you’d been thinking. How can I defeat the brain on nothing but fumes?

And with the fear had come temptation.

The voice of the Absolute was always a siren’s song in your ear. It was a path to complete control, to security and safety like you’d never known. No more humiliation, no more fear, no more pain. Nothing unless you wanted it, you commanded it. Even as shame and horror bled in your gut, keeping you from sleep, you ached for it.

With every inch closer to the Elder Brain, the temptation had strengthened. An itch that you could not stand not to scratch. A whisper in your mind that grew until you could hardly hear your own thoughts. By the time you’d reached the brain stem, it was so terrifyingly potent that you were ready to lay down your sword and end the internal battle you were undoubtedly going to lose.

Anything to stop yourself from going down that road and betraying your friends. Anything to stop the vision of

And when Gale had offered to use the orb, it had all been so fast… even now, you can't remember saying yes. Only that he’d insisted, despite your arguments. Just as you’d wanted to save him, he’d wanted to save you.

The rest is blurry, but still there. His last words. The helplessness you felt as his magic overtook you, teleporting you and the others to safety. The all-consuming panic as you met with the reality of what it meant for Gale Dekarios to die, much too late to stop him.

A flash of light.

And then, agony that never ended.

When the memory releases you, your body is stiff and heavy, and your cheeks are wet and raw. Your chest throbs. You feel as though you’ve been hit by a Thunderwave. At your side, Raphael’s face drips with false sympathy.

“Is that what you want to hear, Raphael?” you ask thickly. “That Gale suffered because of me? That I’m the reason he chose to use the orb?”

Raphael leans back in his seat. “I want to know one thing, and one thing only,” he replies. “Is Gale losing his memory a cruelty, or is it a mercy?”

You're silent, but your lack of reply must say enough.

“Really?” he muses, rising to his feet. “I see it as a mercy. The orb must have been dreadfully painful to detonate, after all. Not to mention the fear he felt as he plunged the knife into his chest.”

Raphael steps closer, and though he doesn't touch you, you can feel his presence on your skin. “How terribly alone he must have felt in those last moments,” he murmurs, his voice honeyed but sickening in your ears. “Yes. What a relief to have that washed away.”

He smiles, and the tension in the room finally breaks. “On that note, I must take my leave. I’d love to stay, my dear, but I’m a busy man,” he says. “Watch over the wizard, won't you? I brought him back just for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he snaps his fingers, and he’s gone.

You buckle over and wait for the pain to pass.

#gale x reader #gale x tav #gale x you #bg3 spoilers #bg3 epilogue spoilers #my writing

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