Author’s blog —

˚₊‧꒰ა ꣑ৎ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

So I just finished watching Don’t worry Darling and I am still not over how stunning both Harry is as Jack and Florence as Alice. AND I NEED TO WRITE FANFICS FOR THEIR CHARACTERS with either reader insert 😭

gif credit from @harryisart 🏹

The Prank / Harry Potter

summary: Being Draco Malfoy’s sister offers significant advantages in Slytherin, with strong platonic ties to Mattheo and Theodore and a protective brother. Consequently, Harry's chance to make an impact might rely on an unfavored prank, providing him an unconventional path to disrupt the existing dynamics.

ps; english ins't my first mother tongue language if any grammar error is seeing through the story, it will be eventually corrected by me. enjoy!

Harry was all too aware of the weight his last name carried. His fame, a double-edged sword, had shaped much of his life and interactions with others. Among his classmates, it was a constant presence, a reminder of his place in their world. But there was one person who had caught his interest in a way no one else had—someone who saw past the fame and into the person behind it. That person was you.

But somehow, just looking at you wasn’t enough for Harry. He had become utterly fascinated by you—by your values, your independence, and, most intriguingly, the stark contrast within your own family name. Being a Malfoy had brought its privileges, but you had carved out your own identity, distinct from the expectations of your lineage. With a fiercely protective brother and a mother who showered you with care, you were surrounded by the trappings of tradition. Yet, you had found a way to stand apart, to be your own person. It was this strength that drew Harry in, making him feel both intrigued and conflicted.

He almost felt ashamed for even entertaining the thought—seeing himself with a Malfoy. It was a notion that seemed impossible, yet it lingered in the back of his mind, impossible to ignore.

It was during a rainy day, early in autumn, when most students sought shelter either in the Astronomy Tower or, like you, found solace in the quiet of the library before lunch. The sound of rain pattering against the windows created a soft background noise as you browsed the shelves, hoping to steal a few moments of peace. Your brother, Draco, and his ever-loyal group of friends had been abuzz with excitement about their latest scheme to alleviate their boredom. 

And, of course, in typical Draco fashion, he was predictably drawn to stirring trouble with Harry Potter. His lack of originality when it came to tormenting the Gryffindor had become almost a routine, a familiar dance between the two. You, however, found yourself growing tired of the same old rivalry, even if it was expected in the Malfoy name. Today, more than ever, you felt disconnected from it all, your mind wandering elsewhere.

As you finally located the book you’d been searching for, Theodore Nott appeared in the hallway, offering you an escort to the cafeteria. It was a small but thoughtful gesture, especially considering that Draco hadn’t even bothered to come get you himself. You smiled at Theo’s presence, appreciating the effort despite your brother’s predictability.

“Theo, you know I can make my way there alone. My brother doesn’t—” you began, but Theo quickly shook his head, cutting you off with a knowing look. His expression suggested that Draco’s insistence had been genuine, or perhaps it was just convenient timing.

“I must indulge you on the matter, Y/N,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But Draco insisted I pick you up. For subtle measures, of course. He wanted to make sure you weren’t... you know.” His words trailed off, but you knew exactly what he meant. Draco always had his protective streak, often imagining threats where there were none. Theo’s tone was light, but there was an underlying concern from Draco, no matter how overbearing it might seem.

Theodore didn’t need to sugarcoat it—the truth was clear. Draco didn’t want you crossing paths with Potter, and though you hadn’t, the underlying message was always there. “Fine,” you relented with a playful sigh. “And since you’re already here to escort me,” you added with a mischievous grin, “why don’t we intertwine arms and you can whisk me away to lunch? I can’t bear to hear my stomach rumble in protest again.”

Theo mirrored your grin, clearly amused by your sudden shift in tone. Without missing a beat, he extended his arm. “I shall, My Lady,” he said with exaggerated formality, linking his arm with yours as you both made your way to the cafeteria, the earlier tension dissipating into shared humor.

Harry had already been in the cafeteria for a while, arriving before Draco as he slumped at the Gryffindor table. His disheveled appearance and tired eyes were telltale signs that he hadn’t slept well—likely out on one of his late-night excursions around the school. He had probably lost a few Gryffindor house points, for his lack of subtlety, but the consequences didn’t seem to bother him much.

Just as he was about to respond to Ron’s incessant complaints, his eyes shifted naturally, almost instinctively, from his untouched plate to where you entered. He didn’t quite understand how or why it happened. Chosen or not, it felt like a curse. The sight of you—so effortlessly poised—gnawed at something deep inside him, making him feel unsettled, even sick to his stomach. You, a Malfoy, represented everything he should stay away from. Yet, somehow, you always drew his gaze, an unwelcome and persistent distraction that pained him more than he cared to admit.

And there you were, moving with effortless grace, your hair catching the cool autumn breeze that slipped in through the slightly open windows. It swept through the room in a comforting way, though it seemed to stir something far less peaceful in Harry. As you made your way toward the Slytherin table, Pansy’s voice called out, greeting you from afar, but Harry’s gaze had already found you—unbidden, magnetic.

Your eyes met his across the room, and for a brief moment, something like understanding passed between you. His heart clenched at the sight of your slight smile. It was nothing more than a fleeting, innocent gesture, but to him, it felt like a wound. Oh, how he longed to just stand up, walk over, and close the distance between you. Like Draco would. Like Theodore, or any of your friends, could without a second thought. But he couldn't. He was Harry Potter, the Gryffindor hero, and you were a Malfoy. The invisible line between you felt impossible to cross, even as every fiber of his being ached to do just that.

“Y/N,” Draco’s voice rang through the air, sharp and authoritative, instantly pulling you—and Harry—back to reality. Harry’s heart sank as he turned, catching the familiar sneer on Draco’s face. Your brother had a talent for making himself impossible to ignore, and judging by the look he shot Harry, it was clear he wasn’t just here to fetch you. He was delivering a warning.

“You look absolutely ridiculous sitting there,” Draco continued, his voice dripping with irritation as he strode up to you, arms crossed. “People will start to think there’s something going on between you and Potter, and you know what Father would say about that.”

His words carried the weight of the Malfoy legacy, a burden you had carried for as long as you could remember. The invisible chains of expectation wrapped around you, tightening as Draco’s cold eyes bore into yours. Harry clenched his fists under the table, resisting the urge to say something, do something. But he knew better—Draco was already spoiling for a fight, and Harry wasn’t about to give him an excuse. Not here. Not now. Even though his chest burned with frustration, he simply sat there, watching, waiting, and silently hoping you'd choose to defy your brother’s words.

“I know,” you murmured quietly, your words barely audible as you approached the table, your sigh lingering in the cold air. The weight of Draco’s presence pressed down on you, but as you sat, your gaze lingered on Harry for a fleeting moment, catching his eyes once more. It wasn’t just his gaze this time—both Ron and Hermione were watching too, their faces clouded with concern. They knew, just as well as you did, the unspoken rules of your world. A love like this, between you and Harry, was forbidden, as if the mere thought was destined for tragedy.

As you settled in, you caught Harry’s lips moving, his quiet whisper to Ron barely reaching you. "There’s no way I can. Just look at her brother. He wants me dead. I’m not worthy of her love.”

The words stabbed at you, even from across the room. You saw the doubt, the resignation in Harry’s eyes, and it mirrored your own inner turmoil. The weight of your family’s name, the constant scrutiny, and Draco’s looming presence—it all made the idea of being with Harry seem impossible. And yet, the connection between you both felt undeniable, as if the universe had pulled you together in defiance of the very forces trying to tear you apart.

"Not worthy." The words repeated in your mind like a slow, haunting echo. Even as your friends chattered loudly about their next cruel prank on Potter, you could barely register their voices. Your fork hovered over the plate, numbing your movements as your thoughts spiraled. You were barely present, your focus lingering on Harry, on his defeated gaze, on the hopelessness you read in his lips. That was until Draco’s voice slithered in, dripping with arrogance and disdain. “Sister,” he muttered as he leaned in beside you, fingers boldly stealing food from your plate. He didn’t care to mask his smugness as he licked the remnants of the sauce from his fingers, his eyes drifting towards Harry’s table, locking in for a brief moment. His gaze then slid back to you, sharp and accusing.

“A little bird told me it was wrong to stare,” Draco said, his voice taunting, as if daring you to deny it. His smirk deepened as though he had caught you in some hidden act of treason.You quickly turned your head, breaking the invisible connection between you and Harry. Your heart raced with the silent understanding that Draco had seen it—the shared glances, the tension neither you nor Harry could fully conceal.

Draco leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper, “What’s going on, Y/N? Don’t tell me you've taken a liking to Potter. You know what Father would say. What I’d say.” His tone dripped with malice, a quiet threat laced in every word.

“Especially— when they stare back at us.” 

You rolled your eyes, fixing Draco with your signature glare. His snarky smirk only deepened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. “Don’t fret, Y/N,” he said, his tone laced with mockery. Theo’s voice cut in, carrying a darker edge. He held his glass with an almost possessive grip, his eyes never shifting towards Harry’s table. “It’s not as if it’s not obvious who he’s obsessed with,” Theo said, his voice filled with disdain. “I don’t like it one bit.”

Mattheo joined in, his presence bustling with energy as he, along with Blaise, added their two cents. He leaned in to peck your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin. “Tell me about it,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “He’s been murmuring your name during Snape’s class. Creepy, if you ask me.”

Their words washed over you, adding to the already heavy tension you felt. You could almost feel the weight of their disapproval pressing down on you, mixing with your own swirling emotions. The combined voices of your friends were a harsh reminder of the precarious position you found yourself in—caught between the expectations of your family, the harsh judgments of your peers, and the undeniable pull you felt towards Harry.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself amidst the growing chaos. “I appreciate the concern,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “But can we focus on something else for now? I’d rather not have the entire cafeteria knowing my business.” The conversation shifted as your friends begrudgingly complied, their murmurs fading into the background. But the feeling of being scrutinized, of having your every move and emotion laid bare, lingered, reminding you of the impossible choices you faced.

The realization hit you like a jolt, a spark igniting your curiosity despite the swirling chaos around you. The way Harry’s gaze seemed to follow you with a mixture of longing and helplessness, even in the face of Draco’s and your friends’ disdain, piqued your interest further. His eyes, intense and unwavering, betrayed an emotion that went beyond mere admiration. 

The peck on your cheek from Mattheo, once a simple gesture of camaraderie, now felt like a stark contrast to Harry’s silent, persistent gaze. It was a reminder of the stark divide between what was expected and what was truly felt. The starkness of Harry’s unspoken affection contrasted sharply with the superficial gestures you were accustomed to, like Mattheo’s fleeting touch. You found yourself wrestling with conflicting thoughts. Could Harry’s feelings be genuine, despite the walls and barriers that surrounded both of you? Could he truly harbor something deeper than the casual affection you had seen from others, akin to what you had seen with Riddle’s more manipulative displays?

As the cafeteria noise buzzed around you, you forced yourself to refocus on the present. The day’s events had revealed more than you’d anticipated, challenging your assumptions and stirring a storm of emotions you’d rather not face. In the midst of the laughter and conversations, you felt a renewed determination to understand the depth of Harry’s feelings, and why, despite everything, he continued to look at you with such unwavering intensity. The path ahead was murky, filled with shadows and uncertainties, but you were now more resolved than ever to uncover the truth behind those haunted, hopeful eyes.

Hermione’s nudge seemed to snap Ron out of his distasteful reverie, his eyes shifting to her with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What was that for?” he asked, his tone laced with irritation but tinged with curiosity.

Hermione, ever the mediator, shot Ron a look that was both reproachful and sympathetic. “It’s just that,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “Y/N’s been dealing with a lot lately. And,” she hesitated for a moment, glancing over at you, who were now engrossed in a quiet conversation with Theodore and Mattheo, “she might not show it, but it’s clear there’s more going on than meets the eye. Harry’s not the only one with feelings here.”

Ron’s expression softened, though his brow remained furrowed. “You think we should—” “—I think we should be supportive,” Hermione cut him off gently. “We don’t know what’s really going on with Y/N and Harry. And honestly, with everything that’s happened, maybe it’s time we gave them the benefit of the doubt. Besides, the last thing we want is to make things worse by adding to the drama.”

Ron nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Alright, fine. But if things get out of hand—” Hermione cut him off again with a reassuring smile. “We’ll handle it. For now, let’s just be here for Y/N and not add more fuel to the fire.”  The conversation shifted as the two of them turned their attention back to their meal, while Hermione’s words lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of the complexities of emotions and the importance of empathy in a world full of uncertainties.

Hermione’s recollection of the party was like a wave of nostalgia mixed with a hint of envy, and her eyes softened as she continued. “You were stunning that night, Y/N. The way the dress accentuated your every move, it was like you were meant to be the center of attention.”

Ron, still blushing, shifted awkwardly in his seat. “And what’s that got to do with anything?” Hermione gave him an understanding look. “Harry’s been thinking about you a lot, Ron. That night, especially. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. It was as if he was caught between admiration and frustration, because he couldn’t get close to you the way he wanted.”

Harry, who had been silently listening, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “You don’t have to bring up the party, Hermione. It’s... embarrassing.” Hermione smiled gently, her tone soothing. “It’s not about making anyone uncomfortable. It’s about understanding that there’s more going on beneath the surface. Harry’s not just pining away; he’s been genuinely affected by you.”

Ron, still flushed but now a bit more thoughtful, glanced at Harry. “So, you really do care about her, huh?” Harry nodded, his gaze earnest. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know how to make it right, but I do care.” Hermione’s expression softened further, and she patted Ron’s arm reassuringly. “See? It’s not all about giving advice or judging. Sometimes it’s about recognizing when someone’s struggling and just being there for them.”

Ron nodded, a hint of understanding dawning on his face. “Alright, I get it. Maybe we should just let things play out and support Y/N, and Harry too.” Hermione gave him a grateful smile. “Exactly. Sometimes the best thing we can do is to just be there for each other and let things unfold naturally.” As the conversation drifted back to other topics, the air was lighter, and the underlying tension seemed to ease. For now, the focus was on navigating the complexities of emotions with a bit more empathy and understanding.

Hermione’s teasing tone was gentle but persistent. “She mentioned you often, Harry. It wasn’t just idle chatter. That night, she was so taken with you that she couldn’t stop talking about how you caught her attention. Even when she tried to play it cool, it was clear she was struggling with her feelings.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “Really? I didn’t realize I made that much of an impression.”Hermione nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “She tried to keep it hidden, but it was obvious. She spoke about how conflicted she felt, especially with Draco hovering around and her own feelings about the Malfoy name. It’s not just about admiration; it’s deeper than that. She was worried about what people would think, especially considering your past with Draco.”

Harry's eyes widened slightly, realizing the depth of your struggle. “So, she’s been dealing with a lot more than just—” Hermione interrupted gently, “Yes. It’s not just about you being ‘handsome’ or whatever. It’s about her own internal battles and the fear of being judged for her feelings. That night, she was quite a mess. And despite her attempts to hide it, her vulnerability was apparent.”

Harry felt a pang of regret and concern. “I wish I had known. Maybe I could have helped her through it.” Hermione placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s never too late. Understanding what she’s been through is the first step. She needs to know that someone cares, without judgment. And right now, she needs to see that you’re not just someone she’s worried about but someone who genuinely wants to be there for her.”

Harry nodded, his resolve firming. “I’ll find a way to show her that. I don’t want her to feel like she’s alone in this.” As the conversation wrapped up, the mood shifted to one of mutual understanding and determination. Harry’s newfound clarity about your feelings and struggles gave him the motivation he needed to approach the situation with sensitivity and care.

Draco’s plan was set with his usual confidence, and though you felt a twinge of unease, you knew better than to question him openly. “Tonight at dawn, then,” you agreed, your voice soft but resolute. The instructions were clear, and Draco’s expression was one of satisfaction as he dismissed the others, leaving you with your thoughts and preparations.

As the evening approached, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of apprehension and resolve. Draco’s scheme was typical—using you as bait to catch Harry Potter in a moment of vulnerability. It wasn’t the first time you’d been used in one of Draco’s schemes, but the stakes felt higher this time. There was something more personal about this plan, especially considering how your feelings for Harry had been evolving.

The hours ticked by slowly, and as midnight approached, you found yourself pacing in your room. You had to remind yourself that your role was to lure Harry into a situation where Draco could confront him. It wasn’t about your own feelings or the growing empathy you felt for Harry. It was about following orders, maintaining your loyalty to your brother, and not causing any more trouble than necessary.

When the clock struck midnight, you slipped out of your room, carefully making your way to the library. The corridors were eerily quiet, the only sounds being the faint echoes of your footsteps and the distant creak of the castle. As you approached the library, you spotted Harry in the dimly lit space, hunched over a stack of books. He was absorbed in his reading, his focus evident. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the task ahead. The plan was simple: engage Harry in conversation, lead him into a situation where Draco could confront him, and hope that everything would go according to plan. As you made your presence known, Harry looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

Harry’s initial surprise quickly turned to curiosity as he looked up from the book he was studying. The dim light of the library cast a soft glow on your face, highlighting the delicate features and the genuine concern in your eyes. As you bumped into him, the contact was fleeting, but it left an impression—one that made Harry's heart race.

He looked at you, taking in the way you seemed genuinely apologetic, a stark contrast to the usual icy demeanor of your family. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice betraying the same mix of surprise and unease that you displayed. He took a step back, his hand lingering a moment longer on yours before he released it. “I didn’t expect anyone else to be here this late.”

The library was a place of refuge for him, a sanctuary away from the prying eyes and expectations of the outside world. Seeing you here, and in such an unexpected way, felt like a strange twist of fate. The vulnerability in your voice was palpable, and it drew him in, compelling him to stay longer than he might have otherwise. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was just... getting a few more books before heading back.”

Harry nodded, his gaze not leaving you. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been spending a lot of time here lately. It’s peaceful.” There was a pause, the silence between you filled with the distant hum of the library’s quiet atmosphere. Harry could see the way your eyes darted around, perhaps anxious or simply uncomfortable. The contrast between your nervousness and his own hesitation created a quiet tension, one that seemed to draw them closer.

“So,” Harry began, trying to break the ice, “What are you reading? Or... studying, I guess?” The question was simple, but it opened the door for conversation, allowing both of you to escape the awkwardness of the moment. He hoped that, perhaps, talking about something more neutral might help bridge the gap between you and him.

Harry’s breath hitched as you closed the gap between you, your hand brushing against his chest and your fingers lightly gripping his tie. The proximity was electrifying, and he could feel the warmth of your body against his, a stark contrast to the cool air of the library. His heart raced, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through him. Your voice, soft and almost seductive, drew him in further. “You know...” He swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in your demeanor. “What... what do you mean?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. The library, once a haven of solitude, now seemed to pulse with a different kind of energy, one that was both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

The space between you was almost nonexistent, and Harry could feel the heat radiating from your body. His mind raced with questions and possibilities, unsure of what to expect but unable to pull away. The library’s shadows seemed to deepen, adding to the intensity of the moment. “What’s going on?” he managed to ask, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to keep his composure.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly at your confession, his mind racing to process your words. The pink flush on your cheeks was unmistakable, adding to the growing intensity between you. He could barely believe what he was hearing, especially considering the way you had approached him.

“I... I stare?” he managed to stammer, his voice cracking slightly with surprise. The vulnerability in your admission made his heart race even faster, and he struggled to find his voice amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

You could see the hesitation in his eyes, but also a glimmer of something deeper—a curiosity, perhaps, or a hint of hope. Your fingers, still lightly touching his tie, gently encouraged him to close the distance between you even further.

“Yes,” you said softly, your voice carrying a blend of shyness and determination. “I noticed. And honestly, I’ve been thinking about it. About you.” You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to continue. “It’s not just about the way you look at me. It’s more about how you make me feel when you do.” Harry’s gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he took in your words. The library, with its quiet and secluded atmosphere, seemed to wrap around you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy.

“Y/N, I...” He paused, his eyes searching yours for any sign of pretense. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I’ve always admired you from a distance, but... I didn’t think you’d feel the same.”

The uncertainty in his voice was palpable, but there was also a flicker of hope and longing. Your confession had clearly affected him, and he seemed to be grappling with his own feelings as he looked at you. The library’s shadows seemed to deepen, heightening the emotional weight of the moment. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile connection between you. “Because... if you are, then maybe we should... talk about this more. Together.”

Until the sudden noise from the corridor startled both of you. The unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed through the library, breaking the intimate moment you were sharing. Harry’s hand froze beneath your chin, his eyes darting toward the source of the noise with a mix of concern and disappointment.

The library’s shadows seemed to dance around you as you both pulled away, the spell of the moment shattered by the intrusion. You exchanged a glance, your heart still racing, and Harry’s face reflected a blend of frustration and urgency. “We have to... we should—” Harry began, his voice hurried as he glanced back at the approaching footsteps. He reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze before letting go. “We can’t be seen here.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the interrupted moment but also the lingering excitement of what had almost happened. You quickly gathered yourself, smoothing out your clothes and trying to regain composure. The footsteps grew louder, and you both knew it was time to make a swift exit. With one last meaningful look, Harry gave a small, almost apologetic smile before you both slipped away into the labyrinthine stacks of the library, seeking refuge from the unwelcome interruption.

As you parted ways to avoid detection, the promise of what might have been hung heavily in the air, leaving both of you with a mix of longing and anticipation for what the future might hold.

Harry’s fist collided with Draco’s face in a sudden burst of anger and defiance. The impact sent Draco stumbling backward, his surprise quickly morphing into a mix of pain and fury. The library’s atmosphere shifted from one of tense anticipation to chaotic confrontation.

Draco’s eyes blazed with indignation as he wiped the blood from his split lip. “How dare you!” he spat, his voice laced with rage. “You have no right to touch her!”

Theodore and Mattheo, momentarily stunned, quickly regained their composure. Theodore’s smirk faded as he stepped in front of Draco, his own anger boiling over. “You think you can just waltz in here and act like you own the place?” he sneered.

Mattheo, still holding a mocking grin, was quick to chime in. “Looks like Potter’s got a bit of a temper. How amusing.” You moved to stand between Harry and your brother, your voice trembling but determined. “Please, just let him go. This isn’t helping anyone.”

Draco, rubbing his jaw, shot a venomous glare at Harry. “You think this is over? You’ve just made things worse for yourself.” His voice was low and menacing, filled with the promise of retribution. Harry, breathing heavily, glared back at Draco. “I’m not afraid of you or your threats. Let’s settle this somewhere else, away from here.” You could see the frustration and desperation in Harry’s eyes, a reflection of your own turmoil. “Harry, please. Let’s just go before things get worse.”

The tension in the library was palpable, each of you caught in a complex web of emotions and conflicting loyalties. Draco, Theodore, and Mattheo seemed ready to pounce, but the realization that the situation was spiraling out of control was clear to all. With a final glance at you, Harry reluctantly stepped back, his anger still simmering but controlled. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “Let’s go.”

As you and Harry made your way out of the library, your brother’s furious eyes followed you. The confrontation left a bitter taste, but it also solidified the resolve between you and Harry. The path forward was uncertain, but the bond between you had been tested and, despite the chaos, had grown stronger.

Outside the library, the cool night air felt like a welcome release, and Harry’s hand found yours again, offering a comforting squeeze. The events of the night had only intensified the feelings between you, leaving both of you with a mixture of relief and anticipation for what lay ahead. But not until Mattheo had the last words in your defense. 

Mattheo’s voice cut through the chaos, his frustration evident as he tried to intervene between Draco and Harry. “You’re such an asshole!” he shouted, his anger palpable. The library’s peaceful ambiance was now a battleground of shouts and clashing spells, and the situation seemed to escalate by the second.

Draco and Harry were locked in a heated struggle, their spells and curses lighting up the library like a chaotic light show. Theodore was trying to separate them, but his efforts were in vain as the two continued their relentless battle. The intensity of their fight was palpable, each movement fueled by a mix of personal vendettas and raw emotions.

Mattheo, seeing that his attempts to break up the fight were futile, resorted to threats. “I’ll tell Father about this!” he roared, his voice filled with menace. “You’ll regret this!”

Despite Mattheo’s threats, Harry and Draco were too caught up in their conflict to heed his warnings. The air crackled with magical energy, and the sounds of spellcasting and grunts of exertion echoed through the library’s aisles.

Amidst the commotion, you felt a mix of panic and determination. You stepped between the combatants, your voice rising above the din. “Enough! This has to stop!” you shouted, trying to grab their attention.

But your words were lost in the chaos. It was clear that neither Draco nor Harry was willing to back down easily. The library’s tranquility was shattered, and the once-serene study space was now a scene of conflict and anger.

Realizing that a more drastic approach was needed, you tried to summon your own magic, casting a powerful barrier between the two fighters. “Stop it now!” you commanded, your voice filled with authority. The barrier shimmered with a protective light, momentarily halting the duel and forcing both Harry and Draco to take a step back. The sudden ceasefire gave everyone a chance to catch their breath, but the tension was far from resolved.

Mattheo, still seething with anger, glared at you. “This isn’t over,” he warned, his voice dripping with venom. “I’ll make sure of it.” With a final, furious look at Draco and Harry, you turned to lead Harry away from the scene. “Come on,” you said urgently. “We need to get out of here before things get worse.”

Harry, still breathing heavily and with a look of determination in his eyes, followed you out of the library. As the two of you exited into the night, the cold air felt like a balm against the heated emotions of the confrontation. The events of the night had left a mark on both of you, but the bond between you had been tested and strengthened in the face of adversity. The path ahead was uncertain, but together you faced it with a renewed sense of resolve and connection.

The scene in the library had reached a fever pitch of chaos and confusion. Despite your desperate attempts to intervene, the fight between Draco and Harry had become almost uncontrollable. Each spell and curse seemed to add fuel to the fire, and even with your friends and Professor Snape now involved, the confrontation continued to spiral out of control.

Professor Snape's authoritative voice cut through the tumult, commanding the situation with a chilling firmness. “Hospital, now,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. His presence brought a semblance of order to the chaotic scene, and he quickly took charge, guiding Draco and Harry toward the hospital wing.

You reached out to Harry, your voice trembling with concern as you tried to hold onto him. “Harry, please, let me help—” His response was strained but resolute. “Don’t,” he said, his voice edged with pain and exhaustion. He pushed your hand away gently but firmly, signaling his desire to deal with the aftermath on his own terms.

Feeling helpless, you watched as Snape and the others escorted Draco and Harry out of the library. The corridor’s dim light cast long shadows, and the tension hung heavy in the air as they moved toward the hospital wing. You were left standing alone, the aftermath of the confrontation weighing heavily on you. Your friends gathered around, their faces reflecting a mix of concern and confusion. Hermione’s hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “We need to make sure they’re okay,” she said softly, her eyes full of empathy.

You nodded, though your mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. The fight had revealed deep-seated tensions and unresolved feelings, and now, all you could do was hope that the wounds—both physical and emotional—could be healed.  As you made your way toward the hospital wing, you couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that settled in your chest. The night had taken a turn that none of you had anticipated, and the road to resolution seemed fraught with challenges.

The hospital wing's door loomed ahead, and you braced yourself for what lay beyond. The events of the evening had left scars that would take time to heal, but you knew that facing them was the only way forward. With a deep breath, you steeled yourself and stepped into the unknown, ready to support those you cared about and navigate the complexities of the relationships that had been strained by the night’s events.

The next morning, you hadn’t slept a wink. Mattheo found you alone in the common room, your sleepless night evident in the dark circles beneath your eyes. “Didn’t sleep?” he asked gently. You didn’t respond, your whole demeanor blank and distant. He sighed, understanding why you were silent and why you hadn't spoken to Theodore, Blaise, or Enzo.

“Look,” he continued, “I tried to tell your brother it was a bad idea. Even Pansy would agree with me. We were all against it—knew how you felt about Potter. And though everyone might think otherwise...” He paused, waiting for you to meet his gaze. When you finally did, your eyes glassy and weary, he added, “I’m genuinely glad to be the first to hear that you and Potter are together.” His smile was warm, sincere, and offered a small beacon of comfort.

“But... what about Draco?” you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. Mattheo raised an eyebrow, immediately understanding who you were referring to. “Draco? Forget him. We’ll figure something out. If we need to keep your relationship a secret, so be it. I just want you to be happy—me, Theodore, everyone else.” His words were sincere, and you hugged him tightly, your face pressed against his chest.

“Finally, the peepsqueak is awake,” Theodore’s voice cut through the moment, a smile on his lips. He looked relieved to see you up. “Where were you?” you asked, feeling a mix of exhaustion and curiosity. “In the hospital wing. Harry’s been given a day off. He wants to see you.” Despite Theodore’s attempts to sound upbeat, you could sense the undercurrent of concern in his tone. A sigh escaped you, unsure if you were ready to face Harry. But Mattheo’s reassuring squeeze and the silent nod of support convinced you to go.

Harry sat on the hospital bed, Hermione at his side while Draco slept nearby, his presence barely acknowledged. “I’m sure she wasn’t…” Hermione whispered, trying to keep her voice low as Draco shifted restlessly in his sleep. “From what you’ve told me, it seems more likely that he set her up. Regardless…”

Harry’s gaze shifted, and he noticed you standing there, looking even more fragile than the night before, a clear sign of the toll it had taken on you. Hermione, who had been speaking, fell silent as Harry’s eyes met yours. 

“If you want to see him, he’s here,” Harry said, his voice carrying a hint of threat. “It would be helpful if you picked him up.” Hermione’s reaction was swift; she slapped Harry gently on his wounded arm, her disapproval evident.  Although you appreciated the offer, you barely acknowledged it. Your focus remained on Harry. “Harry…”

His eyes closed tightly, a clear sign of his struggle to process your words. “Harry… please listen to me,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you fought back tears. A choked sob slipped through your lips. “I didn’t know anything about it, not even the prank. My brother mentioned something about you, yes… But never in a thousand years would I have thought it would come to this, especially when I was about to confess my love for you…”

His eyelids softened as he listened, his anger wavering. “And the fight... After you were taken away by Snape, Mattheo—strange as it may seem—is on our side. He trusts you with his life, more than...” Your gaze shifted nervously from him to your brother. With a hint of disgust, you added, “More than him.”

Harry paused, a heavy silence settling between you. Hermione nudged him, silently urging him to speak. His brow arched in questioning, “You meant it?” His voice was filled with a mix of hope and disbelief. 

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Everything.” 

As you approached quietly, Harry flinched slightly at your sudden presence. Hermione took her cue and left, giving you a reassuring smile before exiting. You settled beside his bed, reaching out for his hand. Though he tried to pull away, the connection was too strong to resist. He loved you, despite everything.

"Harry James Potter," you said softly, using his full name as you leaned in, echoing the intimacy of the previous night. "I loved you from the very first moment. Will you accept this kiss?"

Harry's heart swelled with a mix of affection and relief. A gentle chuckle escaped him as he cupped your face, his smile tender and sincere. "You may, Y/N Malfoy." 

With that, he leaned in, meeting your lips with his, sealing the promise of his love.

The Perfect Love / Halsin

summary: while battling against the Durge and embracing your new you. you struggled to pinpoint the source of your envy towards the elf druid you had been ordered to save and return to the grove. it wasn't until one night, with perhaps a bit of help from a mischievous vamping, that the true nature of your feelings began to surface.

ps ; english isn't my first language but i hope you appreciate this story!

words ; 2654

Halsin was a man unto himself, his charm both undeniable and somehow elusive. Admirers far outnumbered foes, drawn to the balance he maintained with nature and the quiet prosperity he exuded. He wasn’t just the revered druid everyone spoke about in hushed admiration—he was also a striking Elf, impossible to overlook. Those fortunate enough to attend his lectures on harmony found themselves captivated, much like you, lingering at the back of the group, ever more intrigued by his words and presence. Brooding in silence.

“You know,” Astarion’s voice slithered into your ear, his gaze flicking between you and the unfortunate soul who had become your prey that night. Although calling them a "threat" felt like an understatement—it was more of a fleeting obstacle, your mind entirely consumed by Halsin’s perfect smile. The temptation to tear Astarion to pieces in that very moment simmered just beneath the surface. “If you keep staring like that, he’ll eventually notice,” Astarion teased, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Perhaps even get nervous.”

"Nervous?" You nearly choked on your drink as the rough, cheap alcohol scraped down your throat—courtesy of the most bare-bones camp supplies Faerûn had to offer. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you shot back, trying to sound confident. Astarion, however, was anything but convinced, the arch of his brow giving you away before you even finished. “I mean, just look at him. I bet half the people listening to him right now are only here for his looks. His perfect eyes, his perfect hair, his perfect mus—” Your words faltered as you realized the dangerous path you were treading. Complimenting Halsin's physical perfection was not where you wanted this conversation to go. Too late. You caught the wicked smirk curling Astarion’s lips, the one he reserved for moments like these—when someone proved themselves wrong. “Mus? I didn’t quite catch that, darling,” he teased, eyes glittering with mischief.

The emphasis on the word had only deepened your worry, and now your gaze locked with the vampire spawn’s. Astarion leaned in closer, his silhouette casting a shadow over you as if daring you to continue. His smug satisfaction was unmistakable, reveling in the fact that he had you cornered. You tried your best not to fall into his trap, but the pull of his teasing was undeniable. 

“Astarion, I won’t say it,” you insisted, voice strained, struggling to hold onto your pride. “It’s not in my nature to—” But even as the words left your mouth, the smirk on his lips grew wider, knowing full well he’d already won.

“Nature of what?” That voice—rich and unmistakable—cut through the tension, catching both you and Astarion off guard. While Astarion had been thoroughly enjoying his own mischief, his amusement quickly faded as the shadowy figure stepped closer, drawing both of your attentions. Even Astarion, usually so composed, faltered. A delicate flush bloomed across his pale cheeks as he hurriedly returned his lips to the rim of his wine glass, avoiding further scrutiny. The silence stretched long enough for you to wrestle with the question, wondering why Astarion, of all people, had fallen so quiet. Then came the follow-up, dripping with amusement: “Or has the cat caught your tongue now?”

A small cough escaped Astarion, his amusement evident as a few splashes of wine dripped onto his pale skin. He quickly stifled a laugh, wiping the droplets with one finger, his gaze dancing between you and Halsin. The druid's expression was endearing—innocent, really—blissfully unaware of the conversation he’d nearly walked in on. Astarion, ever the opportunist, made a mental note to bet some gold next time, just for the chance to see your face at a moment like this again.

Your eyes followed Astarion’s motion, and when they landed on Halsin, your heart nearly skipped a beat. Halsin, with his effortlessly handsome features, was now looking directly at you. The sudden shift in your demeanor—cheeks flushed, eyes wide, and brows raised as if you'd seen a ghost—hadn’t escaped him. "My dear Y/N," he remarked, a soft concern in his voice, "you look a bit flushed. Are you alright? Do you need me to fetch something to cool you down?"

But the worries faded into the background as Astarion's laughter echoed through the air, his amusement wrapping around every word. "Oh no," he began, clearly relishing the moment. Because when the attention wasn’t on him, Astarion always found a way to redirect it. "Actually, it’s—"Before he could finish, your hand shot up, covering his lips. You couldn’t let him say it, not here, not in front of Halsin and the others, all of whom were now watching intently. The last thing you needed was for your rambling to be exposed.

"I—I must go. I'm so sorry," you stammered, your voice trembling with nervousness. Halsin’s brow furrowed in concern, his keen eyes noticing the slight shake of your fingers as they fell away from Astarion’s mouth. The druid could sense your anxiety, but what puzzled him more was the question that lingered in his mind: why did you always seem so flustered around him?

As Halsin watched you retreat to your tent, his brows knitted in confusion. Astarion, still amused, casually wiped away the remnants of your hand from his lips, further drawing Halsin's attention. The druid, perplexed, turned to him with a quiet question. "Care to explain why she acts like this around me? Every time I try to approach her, she either freezes or... leaves."

Astarion, for once, refrained from teasing, but the air of mischief lingered around him. Meanwhile, the camp, already buzzing from the commotion you’d stirred, was now curious, eyes darting between Halsin and your tent. Amidst the rising murmur, it was Shadowheart who finally spoke on your behalf.

“I can’t say for certain,” she began, her voice calm, “but she’s been like that ever since you joined us. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s something she’s quite ready to share.” Her gaze softened as she looked in your direction, a quiet understanding in her tone. "Give her time." The camp fell quiet again, though Halsin couldn't shake the feeling there was more to your behavior than what met the eye.

Gale nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin before offering his own insight. "I’ve noticed something too," he said, his tone measured. "It seems to happen most often when you're teaching, Halsin. As someone who’s done a fair bit of teaching myself, I understand the challenge. When two lives—especially so different—cross paths, tensions can arise. And, let’s face it, good looks don't make things any easier." He offered a wry smile. "It’s no surprise you have admirers, Halsin. But I have a suspicion that our dearest Y/N might be dealing with a bit of… jealousy."

Halsin’s brows raised slightly in surprise, though he remained silent, the new piece of information settling in. Gale’s words made sense, but they only deepened the mystery for the druid, whose mind now lingered on the complexity of your reactions around him.

Astarion raised his glass with a triumphant grin, clearly reveling in Gale’s conclusion. “Gale, you’re absolutely right! She can be hard to read at times, but jealousy? That’s crystal clear. It’s obvious she’s got a thing for our charming druid.” He turned, his smirk widening as he gestured toward Halsin. “After all, we elves are just naturally irresistible, aren’t we, Shadowheart?”

Shadowheart, caught off guard, gave Astarion a sidelong glance, clearly unamused by his antics. “I wouldn’t count on all elves being charming,” she replied dryly, though her gaze softened briefly toward Halsin. “But I’ll admit, Halsin does have… a presence.” Halsin, for his part, shook his head with a quiet chuckle, though Gale’s observation and Astarion’s playful commentary left him more curious than ever. Could it really be jealousy? The idea seemed both flattering and perplexing.

As the party continued to banter about your supposed jealousy, Halsin’s gaze drifted elsewhere, lost in thought. He found himself reflecting on his time teaching the others about nature. It struck him as odd that, despite his dedication as a teacher, it wasn’t the admiration or the attention he received that seemed to unsettle you. What truly seemed to bother you was the constant presence of admirers crowding around him, often preventing you from even getting a simple greeting.

While some might view the notion as a bit far-fetched, Halsin understood the frustration. It wasn’t just about the superficial interactions; it was the lack of meaningful connection. You were always on the periphery, never having the chance to truly get to know him. Despite his knowledge of you, the details of your life remained largely unknown to him. This disparity in understanding seemed to create a barrier, one that he now felt compelled to address.

“I’d suggest you go talk to her,” Astarion’s voice interrupted Halsin’s thoughts, his gaze fixed on your tent. The druid's brows furrowed as he considered the suggestion. "She’s probably sleeping by now—" Astarion shook his head, dismissing the notion. “You know her better than that. She’s either restless or busy with something else.”

Determined to resolve the uncertainty, Halsin approached your tent, only to be met with faint, sorrowful sounds coming from within. The cries were soft but unmistakable. They cut through the night air, revealing a vulnerability that neither he nor Astarion had anticipated. The realization that you were struggling alone hit him hard, stirring a sense of urgency and empathy in the druid.

“Y/N…?” Halsin’s voice was soft but clear, cutting through the darkness of the tent. Though you were numb and struggling with your inner turmoil, the sound of his voice was unmistakable. A surge of jealousy and frustration surged within you, a painful reminder of your emotions. 

You fought the impulse to lash out, the temptation to hurt him as a way to release your pent-up feelings. Tears, which had momentarily dried, began to well up again. Desperate to maintain some semblance of control, you turned away, trying to cover your face and silence your sobs, hoping he would take the hint and leave you in peace.

But Halsin did not leave. He remained steadfast, his concern growing stronger. When he managed to peek through the tent, he saw you as he had anticipated—your face flushed, your body curled up as if to shield yourself from the world. The faint cries he'd heard earlier were now more apparent, a stark contrast to the usually composed and serene image you presented.

“Are you afraid of me?” he wondered aloud, though he quickly dismissed the thought. It couldn't be fear, he reasoned. If anything, it was something deeper. He began to pull away, respecting your apparent wish for solitude, but you reached out, your hand gently gripping his arm. Your touch was hesitant but firm, a silent plea that spoke louder than words. "Please, I beg you," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and vulnerability.

Halsin stopped, his heart aching at the sight of your struggle. It was clear now that your need for help outweighed your desire for isolation. He knelt beside you, his voice soft but determined. “I’m here,” he said gently. “Tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you.”

Halsin’s soft features met yours as your gaze finally connected. His lips curved into a reassuring smile, a silent promise of support and understanding. Without needing to say more, he accepted your plea, recognizing that it went beyond mere words or shared battles. 

He understood that these moments of vulnerability were crucial, that his presence was more important than any simple greeting or fight alongside you. If nights like these required extra effort, he was more than willing to give it. The reassurance in his eyes spoke volumes, a quiet commitment to stand by you and help you through the darkness, no matter how long it took.

When Halsin settled down beside you, preparing to wrap his arms around your waist, you instinctively rushed to him. It was as if the shelter you’d been seeking was right there in front of you. Halsin chuckled softly, his voice carrying a hint of playful reproach. “You know,” he began with a scoff of laughter, “I always wondered why you seemed so distant during my lectures. Aren’t my classes engaging enough?” His tone was light, almost mockingly offended.

Despite the fact that your discomfort had nothing to do with his teaching or demonstrations, you felt a flush creep onto your cheeks. It was hard to ignore the feelings bubbling up inside you. “Would I be damned if I admitted that it’s because I find you utterly breathtaking?” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, the warmth of your blush reflecting your sincerity.

Halsin’s laughter joined yours, his amusement genuine as he found your comment both adorable and endearing. Yet, beneath the surface, he sensed that your feelings ran deeper than mere admiration. The revelation that you were the Durge—an identity everyone spoke of—had shifted his understanding of you.

As you spoke, your voice carried a tremor of vulnerability. “But it’s also my fear of being alone,” you began, your eyes fixed on him. “Being the Durge has its advantages, but it also feels like a curse. Ever since my father, Bhaal, and my siblings came into my life, I’ve struggled with the fear that no one would ever truly love me. Not even someone as wise as you.” Halsin listened intently, his gaze unwavering as he absorbed your confession. The weight of your words was not lost on him, and he felt a profound sense of empathy for the fear and loneliness you carried. His focus remained solely on you, his presence a quiet reassurance in the face of your deepest insecurities.

As you shared your fears and vulnerabilities, Halsin listened deeply, feeling a connection to your struggles. He reflected on your accomplishments, like saving the grove and rescuing Zevlor and others from the goblin camp. These were feats he often spoke of with admiration, and they were the very stories that captivated his students.

“You know,” Halsin began, a hint of pride in his voice, “I might be an accomplished teacher, but it’s actually you who excites the students the most. They’re always eager to hear about your deeds. In fact, many of them have expressed a wish to meet you. But I’ve been hesitant, understanding that you don’t seek the spotlight.”

He looked at you with a reassuring smile, his words conveying both admiration and a deep respect for your desire for privacy. “You’ve made a greater impact than you realize, and while you might not seek attention, your actions speak volumes to those who know about them.”

You listened intently, your fingers gently cupping Halsin's face as you lifted your head from his chest to meet his gaze. “So that’s what Alfira was talking about last week?” you asked, a hint of shame coloring your words. “I always thought the hero was someone else in this party, considering my story.”

Halsin's lips curved into the same reassuring smile you had admired since you first met him, the same smile you had once envied but now found deeply comforting. “How about…” he began thoughtfully, “next week, I have a lecture to attend. Perhaps you could join me? It could be a first step for us to get to know each other better.” His suggestion was warm and genuine, offering a bridge between your shared experiences and the budding connection between you.

The phrase "a first step to our relationship" echoed in your mind as you continued to gaze at him. A small smile curved your lips, and with sincerity, you replied, “I would love to, Halsin.”

Halsin’s heart warmed at your response. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, drawing you closer into his embrace. The warmth of his touch was soothing, a comforting reassurance that you were no longer alone.

“We will work this together, my dear.” 

THE GERWLS LOVE KARLACH — 💕🗣️✨

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Also Karlach be supporting/bodyguard gf can have my 💍🎀

Love in the Impala / Sam Winchester

summary: Sam and you had always felt a mutual attraction, but the chance to voice your feelings never seemed to arise. Then, one evening, Sam took the initiative, creating an opportunity that could mark the start of a new relationship.

ps: english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors

xox'

Being with the Winchesters definitely had its perks, but unfortunately, it came with its share of drawbacks too. One unexpected downside was Dean’s immediate interest in you from the moment he laid eyes on you. What Dean failed to grasp was that your attraction was solely directed towards Sam, and Sam only. Something that he too, quickly picked up on. Unlike you, Sam enjoyed every little bit of it.

Sam couldn’t help but notice your irritation whenever Dean would continuously compliment your appearance, his eyes lingering on your figure, especially during those late nights at the club. It wasn’t until one particular evening after a successful hunt, when the three of you, including Castiel, decided to unwind at the local pub near the hotel. The place was packed, signaling the end of the week, and you were undeniably exhausted. But even then, Dean’s persistent attention towards you remained unwavering.

"You know," he purred, flashing the same overconfident grin he'd given you the first time you met. "Still impressive how you've managed to keep up with us. I mean, with a beauty like yourself. Who could resist, right?" He chuckled, taking a sip of his umpteenth beer to 'unwind'. Meanwhile, you simply returned his gaze, offering a silent smile before diverting your attention elsewhere for amusement. And there it was, Sam’s eyes fixed on yours, impossible to ignore.

Sam was fully aware of his actions, deliberately ignoring whoever the unfortunate lady was vying for his attention. His nods were half-hearted, brows furrowed almost in disdain, as he pretended to listen to whatever was being said, eliciting a slight chuckle from you. "Funny, isn't it?" What you failed to realize was how you, too, were ignoring Dean's words entirely. And in response, Sam did the same, sharing in your amusement with a vulnerable chuckle of his own.

Later in the evening, Dean was completely intoxicated, the taste of alcohol lingering on his breath, while Castiel made valiant attempts to keep the conversation going. Amidst this, you noticed Sam mouthing a word – 'Bathroom' – prompting you to excuse yourself before fully comprehending his intent. Sam not only shared your sentiments but also awaited this opportune moment, perhaps to assert to his brother who you truly belonged to: him.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a little situation to attend to," you announced, your voice cutting through Castiel's ear, who simply hummed in acknowledgment as Dean reluctantly lifted his gaze, his lips forming an unmistakable pout. "Won't be long, I promise," you assured, though that turned out to be entirely inaccurate.

Sam waited for you, a drink in hand now emptied, his eyes fixated on your every movement as you approached him. You could feel his unwavering gaze upon you, devoid of shame or guilt, as he realized the power he held to admire you whenever he pleased, without his brother's interference for once. "Did I forget to mention how beautiful you are?" His gaze hardened slightly, brows furrowing from perhaps admiring a bit too intensely. But where was the line when it came to the two of you?

"Not too shabby yourself," you replied in kind, your teeth gently sinking into your bottom lip as you eyed him from head to toe, a familiar sensation stirring in your stomach, reminiscent of the first time you met Sam. It had been a rookie mistake, spilling your favorite coffee on him, but it led to one of those moments where you were fortunate enough to help him clean not just his shirt, but his chest as well – a memory he seemed to relish in reminding you of. "It's a shame we're not at a coffee shop. Who knows where your clumsiness might have taken us."

Your cheeks flushed at his comment, and the moment he noticed, his lips curved into a smirk as he leaned in closer. It was one of the things he loved about you – not only were you nearly the same height as his brother, but just a tad smaller, creating a perfect fit between the two of you. Trying not to sound too obvious, you chuckled softly, but he couldn't resist teasing you, his fingers gently caressing your chin to draw your focus back to him. "Hey hey, back to me, love," he murmured, his voice husky, rendering you almost defenseless against him, already feeling yourself succumbing to his charm.

"You make it impossible not to be distracted by your beauty," you pouted, your attempt at defense crumbling as your gaze involuntarily shifted from his chest to his lips. Sensing an opportunity, Sam's fingers trailed lightly around your waist, wrapping around you before he contemplated fully enveloping you in his embrace. His grip conveyed an unwavering resolve not to let go. "I have an idea," he confessed, sparking your curiosity about what plan he had brewing from the start – undoubtedly one that would leave Dean regretting ever flirting with you in the first place.

Sam's gaze drifted over to Dean and Cas, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he observed the scene before him. With the two of you not far away, he couldn't resist indulging in the sight. "How about," his voice husky once again, his desire palpable as he clenched his jaw, longing for you – a desire that had been brewing since day one. "We have a little fun in the Impala?"

Your nerves caused you to gulp nervously. Had you heard him correctly? "Th-The Impala, but what about—" Before you could finish your sentence, Sam swiftly cupped your face, his attention solely on you as he pressed the bottle neck into his chest. Without giving you a chance to respond, his lips brushed against yours, initiating a kiss that you found impossible to resist. You felt his breath quicken, followed by a playful nip at your bottom lip and a soft laugh as he quirked a brow in confusion. "What?" you chuckled, to which he responded in kind. "It's just... I don't know how long I could resist. If it weren't for being Soulless, not to mention Dean being so clingy around you—"

Without hesitation, you leaned in once more, rising onto your tiptoes to initiate another kiss. "Then," you broke away from the kiss, allowing Sam a moment to catch his breath, though his gaze pleaded for more. It was enough to tease him, your fingers playing with his collar as you spoke softly, "How about you be a gentleman and take me to the Impala?" He understood your implication immediately, wordlessly heading to settle the bar tab, smoothly concocting a story to excuse yourselves to Dean and Cas, citing the need for some fresh air. Fortunately, Sam's convincing manner provided the perfect cover, sparing you from having to hear the charm he employed on his brother.

As the two of you managed to sneak into the Impala, you couldn't help but chuckle as Sam settled you onto his lap. His fingers traced patterns around your waist, causing a slight shift in your hips as you felt the tension building through the fabric of your clothes. Your cheeks flushed with a rosy hue as you tried to stifle any noise. Public make-outs were never your preference, but with Sam, your adventurous side emerged, perhaps as a subtle message to Dean to cease his flirtations.

"God damn, you look even better on top of me," Sam's eyes darkened as he savored every visible inch of your skin, his fingers digging into your flesh as he relished in the sound of your escalating moans. "Sam..." Your voice echoed through his mind, driving him to the brink of madness. But before things could escalate further, a tap on the Impala from outside abruptly interrupted the moment.

"Dipshit!" Dean's voice, surprisingly less intoxicated, pierced through the silence. In contrast, Castiel remained uncomfortably silent, his presence a reminder of the world outside the cocoon of the car. Sam's chuckle prompted you to bury yourself deeper into the crook of his neck, his arm still protectively wrapped around you as he scrambled for an excuse. Yet, his cocky demeanor remained intact – if this was the tactic to finally make his brother understand, then it had to start somewhere.

"Dean, maybe we could... leave the two of them..." Cas attempted to diffuse the tension, but Dean's strong objection was evident as he stormed into the driver's seat, causing both you and Sam to shift closer together in response.

"Really?" Dean's gaze shifted between the two of you, and you couldn't help but anticipate a hint of sadness or even anger from him, considering it was evident that you and Sam had a mutual attraction. However, his response caught you off guard. "In MY Impala? You can bang anyone, Sam, but NEVER in my Impala," he declared, gesturing emphatically.

The two of you couldn't help but laugh in unison. "So, me hooking up with the girl you've been flirting with isn't a problem?" Sam sounded almost offended at this point.

"I mean," Dean paused, swallowing as his gaze met yours. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes that you felt deeply once they locked with yours. But instead of dwelling on it, he smiled. It was clear that seeing his brother happy was of utmost importance to him. "I know you've had a thing for my brother. I mean, who can resist those puppy eyes?" He ruffled Sam's hair, earning a playful pushback from Sam and a smile from you at the small display of affection.

"You're right," you agreed, redirecting your attention fully back to Sam. "How could anyone resist?"

With that, Dean started the Impala's engine, Castiel back in the passenger seat, while you nestled comfortably in Sam's arms, sitting in his lap. The drive was filled with laughter and shared moments, the four of you enjoying each other's company until you arrived back at the Bunker. As Sam spoke, teasingly, "Don’t think you can get away without me testing you, my love," you tried to hide your blush, only for Dean to interject with mock disgust, "Spare the details! For the love of god."

Chuckling together, now alone, you gently caressed Sam's cheek, admiring every detail of him. "I love you," you whispered softly, leaning in to peck his lips.

"I love you too," he replied earnestly, ensuring that you would never forget that night. And indeed, come morning, you would find it a little difficult to walk, as Sam made sure of it.

I finally was able to make a Masterlist of my stories for our love of The Hunger Games series especially TBSOAS here is a few that I have written for thus far. XOXO'

Reaper Ash:

Love and Temptations

Treech:

Capitol's Love Birds

Sejanus Plinth:

Lost Souls

Coriolanus Snow:

Distraction

Jealousy

Little Bird

Envy and Passion PT. 1

Envy and Passion PT. 2

Coriolanus Snow ft. Sejanus Plinth :

Cherry Red

Coriolanus Snow ft. Treech :

A Lumberjack's Love Story

Thank you so much. 🥺 Seeing so much positivity makes me so happy! Treech is such an interesting character and love District 7 soo much. I will definitely be writing for him more and Reaper Ash as well!

Much Love

XOXO

O’ 🎀

Love at first Sight / Billy The Kid

summary : billy assumed the role of your father's right-hand man, working for a man rooted in tradition and possessing a distasteful approach toward women, especially you. as he engaged in conversations with his boss expressing displeasure regarding you, billy found himself increasingly interested in you. your situation, bound by an arranged marriage to the mayor's son—a union you adamantly rejected—created a unique backdrop. It was during a specific event that billy had the opportunity to meet your father's daughter, and in that moment, he became a firm believer in the existence of love at first sight. this entire journey began with his enduring fascination with the scent of your perfume back at your mother's stable.

ps : english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes and grammar errors. please don't copy my work without giving proper credit. thank you!

Billy never experienced a genuine sense of belonging, whether he was away or striving to improve the situation for his family. He was acutely aware of society's treatment of outliers. As the affluent men from the village strolled through the suburbs, they, too, recognized the presence of criminals in their midst, and Billy found himself among them. And yet, he blended himself quite well with the wealth too. 

Although you had expected to be the new talk of the town, an arranged marriage with the mayor's son was not on your list of future goals. Furthermore, being wedded to an arrogant individual who was well aware that it was merely a strategic move, and behind closed doors, he had no qualms about bringing his mistress into the same house, was beyond anything you had envisioned. Especially considering that if you had dared to do the same, your father would unleash his fury and shame at dawn, calling you the same names he had directed at your mother. She, in a desperate attempt, had reluctantly embraced the notion of marriage solely to preserve the family legacy. 

"She will marry him, no questions asked." Uttered your father, the day before the marriage. And even in this assertion, it was the most affectionate sentiment he could muster towards his wife. Over time, you began to harbor suspicions that he, too, maintained a relationship outside the confines of home. In contrast to your newly arranged husband, your father, at least, displayed a modicum of dignity and refrained from entirely demeaning his wife in the presence of someone he found more alluring. 

While the mere rumor of the mayor's son getting married spread, it didn't take long for the news to reach even those living close to your mansion. It was an announcement that resonated beyond the village. Citizens from the village, including yourself, were invited to celebrate this new union. Despite wanting to find humor in the irony of the situation, you found yourself gazing at your reflection in the mirror that very morning. Your hair was styled more meticulously than usual, and your maid affectionately applied a touch of powdered blush on your cheeks, suggesting that you should also apply a shade of red to your lips—apparently, your husband's favorite color. However, this notion raised suspicions that he might have mentioned it merely as a reminder of his own extramarital affair. 

On the contrary, Billy found himself deeply engrossed in his pursuit of a plan to earn money and provide for his family back home. What he failed to mention was that he had been working for a member of your family since the very beginning. However, he soon found himself bewildered, troubled by the revelation that your father had a daughter. Despite being accustomed to your father's often proudly expressed family affairs, what offended Billy the most was the notion of witnessing such a beautiful girl tethered to a man he could hardly bear to part with—your new husband. 

As your father's right-hand man, Billy was privy to more information than he probably should have been. He spent countless hours in conversations, observing how your new husband seemed enamored with the notion of having you as his wife. He openly entertained the idea that his mistress was even more alluring, describing her in rather explicit terms. This perspective left Billy contemplating the disdain these two men harbored—not only for their wealth but also for their audacity in talking about  you with so much filth coming from their mouth. 

Unbeknownst to both of you, there was a transparent tension in the air. Your father, having the audacity, warned Billy to tread carefully. "She's a spicy one, you know." He casually remarked one night at the pub, with your mother expressing concern over your father's prolonged absence. "She could make any man fall in love, a seductress she is." The words of your husband tempted Billy to rise and deliver a punch to his face, but he understood that such an act would cost him his job. Driven by the determination to catch a glimpse of your beautiful face on your wedding day, he suppressed his impulse. "You seem quiet tonight, boy." Your father's voice resonated in Billy's already agitated mind. Despite his initial disdain for the man who employed him, this time, Billy managed a smile. Aware that alcohol had taken its toll on the two affluent men, he began to entertain the thought that perhaps even the most sought-after criminal could outsmart every wealthy aristocrat, including your father and your husband.

As the reality of today being the wedding day sank in, you were expected to catch a glimpse of your husband before the ceremony. How mistaken you were when you decided to step out for a breath of fresh air. Suppressing tears, you tried not to panic at the thought of soon saying "Yes" to your husband, officially binding yourself to him. It was at that moment that Billy saw you in full. Carrying out a discreet surveillance as per your father's instructions, he had to halt his horse to avoid causing a disturbance in your courtyard. Dressed in his customary attire, a matching hat and blouse with his curls peeking through, he stood under the humid weather. His piercing blue eyes locked onto your silhouette. In that moment, Billy realized that love at first sight was indeed a reality. 

Your thoughts were consumed by anxiety as you made every effort not to appear completely distraught. Amidst the constant pressure to present perfection, a seemingly inconsequential decision loomed large, poised to alter your life entirely. You were on the verge of declaring your desire to escape this distressing situation forever. If it weren't for your mother's insistence on keeping her daughter by her side, you might have left the wretchedness long before venturing into the wilderness. It was during this tumultuous time that the sound of a horse approaching caught your attention, guided to a halt. A boy of your age emerged, and there was a sense that he might be an outlaw in the employ of your husband's family. His gentle gaze met yours, prompting you to approach cautiously. "May I help you?" You inquired, hoping your recent tears had dried by this point, and the dryness in your voice was simply a result of dehydration. 

"I reckon I should be askin' you the same question, darlin'." The accent hinted that the boy hailed from the South. A man of his demeanor might be viewed with disdain or seen as one who relishes the rugged existence of the wilderness as a mere challenge. However, his mannerisms suggested that this same man was well-acquainted with the nomadic lifestyle. Perhaps, if you were an unattached lady with enough daring in your spirit to break free, you could run away—with or without a total stranger—just as long as it meant being far away from home. "Billy's the name. Your father hired me to be..." He paused momentarily, conscious of your father's confession the previous night about you being the woman he envisioned. However, Billy wanted to witness it with his own eyes and found himself captivated by your subtle vulnerability and the fearlessness you displayed in conversing with someone of lesser means, not to mention a criminal. "His right-hand man. I reckon we haven't been properly introduced. You must be Y/N.” 

Your eyes widened in shock, almost in disbelief, though it wasn't entirely surprising that your father would enlist someone to handle his less savory tasks. It wasn't until today's events that you truly learned about the man your father had only briefly mentioned, leaving you to think he was nothing more than an urban legend. Considering the amount of alcohol in his system, you were hardly surprised. Yet, there he stood—the man your father boasted about during lengthy dinners with his men: Billy the Kid. A figure with a shrewd skill for shooting intruders without hesitation, coupled with a charming demeanor. "I am..." You confessed, your admiration for his demeanor evident as you approached. You became conscious of the horse, realizing it was from your mother's stable. "She's been fed properly." Billy remarked, noting your gesture as you began to caress the braided hair of Billy's horse—a routine you had always done, realizing it was all along the horse reserved for him. "Love the braids, by the way." 

His compliment sent a warm flush to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to know the owner's skill in braiding. I wanted to thank them, but a little bird told me it was someone's daughter who's about to get married. And upon hearing that, I was sad to hear such news." Among all the men you had encountered in your life, something distinctive resonated in Billy, acknowledging the small gesture. He was aware of your presence only at the wrong times and different hours, lamenting the missed opportunity of not meeting you sooner, especially after learning the news of you becoming a recognized wife.

The news struck Billy deeply. In all honesty, he meant every word he spoke. He realized it was merely a matter of being there at the right time, and he could have been the one to offer you in marriage. The thought of heritage and the possibility of being dismissed due to your father's demise didn't concern him. Billy began to believe that if you had been with him all along, you could have been a free lady. Unlike many men in the wilderness, he would have treated you as the woman you were meant to be—a princess in his eyes. Cheating, for him, was a sin. Despite his own involvement in many crime, he was determined not to tolerate disloyalty and would damn well wage a war against any men who prioritized their sins over loyalty. 

"I—" You were so taken aback by Billy's sudden interest that unfamiliar feelings stirred within you, emotions you hadn't experienced in a long time. You had convinced yourself that love was a distant memory, and the idea of loving your own husband seemed utterly ridiculous. "Y/N! The ceremony is about to start!" Your mother's voice interrupted, drawing attention to Billy's presence. A formal smile appeared on her face, indicating that they knew each other long before you did. After all, he was involved in your father's business, and your father was adept at keeping his affairs away from you. "Billy." Your mother called out his name, prompting a respectful bow from him. "Miss." He acknowledged. "I'll leave you two ladies for the preparations, going back to duty." He announced, to which your mother responded. "Oh, you know you're always welcomed, boy. We even kept a plate for you. You're family." 

"You're family." The words echoed in your mind as your mother gently took your arm, guiding you back inside to try on your wedding dress. Before stepping fully inside, you stole a final glance at Billy. He acknowledged your gaze with a brief nod, and you could have sworn you saw a soft smile, implying that everything was going to be okay. 

But it didn't. The marriage turned out to be a complete spectacle. The meticulously arranged plates, with the white and red combination your husband had chosen, were even more distasteful than the concept of marriage itself. Despite having said "Yes," anticipating your father's intense gaze throughout the entire wedding, you were proven wrong. To no one's surprise, after a few drinks, he was already drunk and couldn't care less. However, you sensed someone's gaze shifting entirely from your mother to you from afar. It was Billy's gaze, his usual blue eyes looking at you so lovingly that he began to curse himself for not being the fortunate man to propose. "Don't they make a loving pair," your mother would say to him, although it was only for show. Your mother had shown signs of concern that your husband had already found a mistress back at home. She wanted to ensure that you felt the love your husband supposedly felt for the other ladies, and that man turned out to be Billy.

You came to the realization that throughout dinner, you had been putting on a façade, performing an act solely to appease the affluent company. The discomfort gradually intensified until it manifested as a nauseating twist in your stomach, making it impossible to consume such an excessive amount of food in such a short span. The moment your husband, adorned with a forced smile and a trace of alcohol on his breath, attempted to lean in, you swiftly rose from your seat. A disconcerting sensation lingered as you tried to evade his touch. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but notice Billy's unwavering gaze, indicating his awareness that something was amiss. True to his character as a loyal confidant, he patiently bided his time until you excused yourself, following suit shortly after. However, Billy's departure did not go unnoticed by your father, who inquired about his early exit. "Just need some fresh air." Was Billy's offered explanation.

Only upon reaching the back door did your eyes well up with tears, the very tears you had struggled desperately to conceal both before and after the wedding. As you brushed your fingers against a ring that didn't rightfully belong to you, an overwhelming desire to scream surged within. The pain and desperation begged for an outlet, a release, but no words emerged. Collapsing to your knees, vulnerability engulfed you completely. 

Billy trailed behind, intending to afford you some privacy and a moment alone. However, what he hadn't anticipated was stumbling upon you in such a distressed state. Witnessing you in such a condition was beyond his comprehension. It was inconceivable for him to imagine seeing someone as beautiful and wise as you in such turmoil, especially considering that even his own boss, your father, would allow such a fate. You only became aware of his presence when the rhythmic thud of boots on the wooden planks reached your ears near the back door. Swiftly turning around, you flinched at the sudden noise, relieved to find it was only Billy, signaling there was no need for concern. “Woah there Darlin’. It’s just me…” 

The casual and frequent use of "Darling" as a term of address by you was a mannerism you couldn't envision any other man adopting. The way he effortlessly and elegantly incorporated it into his speech hinted at an attraction that went beyond mere details. It was apparent that he harbored a profound desire to get to know you better, suggesting a possibility of rediscovering the love you believed was lost. This, of course, hinged on your continued role as a dutiful wife to your husband. However, Billy had his own agenda and plans in motion. That you would come with him, back home. 

Your hands strained to reach out, desperate for a connection or anything tangible that could restore the emotions you longed to feel. You yearned to be loved for the woman you truly were, not merely a decorative statue to be admired at someone else's convenience. "Hey—" He noticed your discomfort, limping in an attempt to maintain the facade of perfection. "Shh... Come here." His arms tenderly encircled your waist, a stark contrast to his robust frame, displaying a genuine fear of causing harm. A true gentleman, he was. As he caught the scent of your delicate perfume, a vivid memory surfaced—the first time he encountered it was when your father had gifted him his retired horse. That same fragrance lingered in the horse's mane. Back then, he couldn't put a face to the scent, but now, he was fortunate to not only have a face to associate it with but also a person to cherish. 

"I feel so disgusted... A woman with a husband should not sin." You confessed to him, torn between the desire to have Billy all to yourself and the looming temptation. The notion of love at first sight seemed undeniable, but Billy, with genuine concern, attempted to steer you away from such thoughts. "And let your husband be with that whore back home without even worrying about his own wife? I call that bullshit." His Southern accent became more pronounced, his breath closer beneath your face, and his eyes gleaming in the bright sun of the wilderness. "I wouldn't mind making the husband regret something." He added nonchalantly. 

Tilting your head, your gaze was solely fixed on him. "And what sort of action do you propose to make my husband regret so profoundly?" You teased him with a hushed tone. This banter was a familiar game for you, reminiscent of the numerous long dinners accompanying your father, where many men sought your hand in marriage. Yet, all those efforts went to waste, leading your father to plead with you to consider marrying the mayor's son. "Will you love me the way you're looking at me right now?" You inquired, playfully challenging. 

"I'll do whatever it takes." He asserted confidently, his thumb tracing the line of your chin, lifting it gently to meet your gaze. Your eyes momentarily wandered to the slightly exposed chest, a sight he might have deliberately unveiled for your eyes only. "Anything within my power to claim you as mine. Even if the consequences become their own, I'm willing to make you feel at home once again."

The notion of feeling at home had eluded you for quite some time, a sensation you hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. The concept of home seemed so distant that even your own residence became something almost unfathomable, much like the tears that had once dried only to resurface now. It occurred to you that perhaps Billy was the man you had longed to find in your life. If not for that realization, you would be compelled to thank your father for hiring Billy during that critical moment. Fortunately for both of you, Billy shared the same fervor to bring you home with him, even if it meant sneaking out or feigning vacations. 

“Wouldn’t, they suspect of my absent? My husband could care less anyway…” Billy chuckled slightly at the irony of the situation. Something he too found oddly ironic by the subject of you being the object of another wedding that in the end was only to keep the money aligned. “I might have a few tricks up to my sleeve, darlin’. How do we say? By dawn tomorrow? I’ll come pick you up.” 

As you contemplated the excuse, fully aware that you would scrutinize it, he pressed on. "Mother said she'll keep this a secret. She mentioned you'd been in contact with a distant cousin, and the plan was for you to spend a few weeks there and such. Oddly enough, your husband didn't seem to mind and even agreed." Your eyes registered disbelief. Did you hear correctly? Your mother? The same mother who appeared so vulnerable and hesitant, had orchestrated everything behind your father’s back. She was likely cognizant of Billy's admiration for you since his initial visit to the stable, where he expressed a desire to confront your father whenever he spoke of you in a distasteful manner. 

"I promised her that I'd protect you and play the part of an unsuspecting ally upon returning to your husband. Your father tasked me with being your right-hand man this time, but it seems our luck had something even more significant in store." He confessed with softened eyes. A part of you yearned to embrace him, to acknowledge and reciprocate his admiration. However, your gaze shifted to his lips, a desire he sensed had been lingering since your first meeting. Without hesitation, he gently held your chin with one hand, drawing your lips closer to his, fully immersing both of you in a passionate kiss. It was a kiss you had no intention of ending, a kiss that spoke of love—something noticeably absent in your husband's crude and repulsive attempts to win your favor. “Mine…” You whispered so softly, begging for more kisses through it all. 

“Mine forever… Señorita.”

Your connection with Coriolanus might be labeled as toxic if either of you had the courage to admit it, but the truth is, neither of you can. It required him not only to openly share his feelings with you but also for you to acknowledge that you were now completely under his control. If you dared to consider leaving or reevaluating the relationship, Coriolanus would ensure you understood unequivocally to whom you belonged, with no room for reconsideration.

Amidst the unfolding of the Hunger Games, you were well aware of the connection he maintained with Lucy Gray and ensured it was portrayed as mere entertainment. His excuse? "To please the public." Serving as a subtle reminder that your own romantic inclinations towards your candidate had not gone unnoticed. However, it soon became apparent that this was a tactic to divert Coriolanus' own jealousy. Until one time– He had enough. By directing you unhesitatingly to his room, stating. "You. In my room now." Without any protest or objection, a smirk surfaced on your face, signaling that your strategic maneuvers were at least yielding some success in this intricate game.

Once inside his room, brace yourself for Coriolanus to consume you with an intensity that leaves no room for tomorrow. He would channel his stress and anger into you through fervent kisses and lingering whimpers, accompanied by your supplicant pleas. Snow's gaze darkened, and any lingering emotion within him seemed to exit his body, placing you under his complete control. He'd lift you with a possessive grip, his fingers digging into your flesh to keep you still. His lips would navigate to the crook of your neck, refusing to release their hold. "You are mine." He would assert, repeating it more than once as his breath grew heavier with a hunger to savor every inch of your skin. "Mine. Do you understand?"

"Yes..." Was the only response you could muster, and though your sincerity was evident, Coriolanus desired to hear it again—this time with an added layer of pleading. "What did you say?" He feigned with ignorance about your admission, coaxing you to repeat it once more.

“I am yours, Sir and forever.” 

Shower with Mike Schmidt

Mike's unfortunate situation required you to patiently wait for him to return from work. Adding to the difficulty, the young man was already quite stressed, and his primary desire upon arriving home was to immediately seek his bed and rest until the following day. However, today held an exception in your plans, as Mike had briefly requested your assistance in picking up Abby from school and getting her ready for bedtime. This meant that dinner was prepared, and you had a few hours of solitude in the room before his return from work. 

While Mike reveled in solitude, the newfound position bestowed upon him by Mr. Raglan proved to be profoundly challenging, especially considering the disarray he was already in. What astounded you most was not his ability to engage in coherent conversations with you, which seemed increasingly improbable, but rather his tenacity in preserving his mental equilibrium. On that particular evening, when Mike returned, his countenance bore an intricate amalgamation of emotions, instigating heightened concern within you. As he settled upon the living room's couch, he emitted a sigh of such depth and shame that it resonated as one of the most profound exhalations he had ever allowed himself.

As you observed his weary demeanor, you cautiously broached the subject, inquiring. "Long day?" Your initial reluctance to speak dissipated as you extended to him a welcoming cup of coffee, a beverage his physician had explicitly discouraged but one that he had, in a rare instance, advised you to offer if he sought to enhance his concentration. In response, he replied with a simple, affirmative hum and expressed his gratitude through a soft, murmured "Thank you." His hands cradled the cup, the liquid within steaming and exuding a comforting heat, precisely to his liking. As he took a sip, a subtle and almost imperceptible smile appeared to grace his features. "Thank you once more." He acknowledged, appreciative of your thoughtful gesture.

Seated alongside him, you graciously relayed the information that Abby had already completed her evening rituals, having taken her shower and donned her pajamas before partaking in her dinner. In your considerate manner, you suggested that, Mike was more than welcome to do so as well. A habitual inclination to depart from the couch and withdraw from the room began to stir within you, only to be arrested by the unexpected touch of his hand upon your arm. Startled, you turned your gaze towards him, an inquisitive arch gracing your brow. With his eyes half-lidded, Mike implored, his voice carrying a hint of drowsiness but a plea that resonated all too familiarly. "Please stay." He murmured, his pout lending an extra layer of persuasion to his request, beseeching you with a sentiment he was known to employ.

Initially, an instinctive impulse welled up within you, compelling you to dissent in response to this unusual demand. Your responsibility had been solely to ensure Abby's safety during Mike's shift, and no more. Yet, as you contemplated Mike's peculiar request, you couldn't help but entertain the possibility that fatigue had clouded his judgment, rendering him unusually talkative and perhaps even in need of nourishment. The inclination to suggest a small meal tugged at you, but he swiftly interposed, contending that dinner could be postponed. Upon further reflection, his argument held merit. With Abby securely ensconced in her room, serenely slumbering, Mike could, for once, contemplate relaxation. And if relaxation was indeed his aim, what better company than yours to accompany him in this moment of respite?

Though you uneasily acquiesced to his offer, an act that, upon reflection, appeared ethically questionable, the realization of Mike's superior role in your professional hierarchy weighed on your mind. The potential for his occasional idiosyncratic comments, particularly in the presence of your mother, if that were ever the case, gave you pause. However, as you drew nearer, observing the profound exhaustion etched across his countenance, an overwhelming sense of compassion enveloped you. An innate curiosity regarding his profession stirred within, yet you found yourself suppressing the urge to inquire.  As Mike nonchalantly set down his now empty coffee cup and extended an arm behind your back, drawing you closer, you assured him that you were quite comfortable where you sat. However, his expression shifted, and a hoarse chuckle emanated from him, remnants of the previous night still evident in his voice. "I noticed you watching me yesterday." He revealed, a twinkle of playful mischief in his eyes.

An expletive of astonishment nearly escaped your lips, and your eyes flitted nervously from side to side, attempting to process Mike's revelation. The gravity of the situation struck you when it became apparent that he remained unwavering, his unwavering gaze locked onto yours. Your thoughts danced between a presumption that he shared a similar sentiment and a nagging self-questioning, wondering if he had somehow overheard your brief conversation with Abby regarding Mike. 

However, a different intuition emerged, contradicting your initial doubts, as you noticed the subtle curvature of his lips forming a wicked smirk. "You truly believed I was oblivious?" He inquired, and a wave of relief washed over you, dispelling the notion that your initial impression had been nothing more than a self-concocted illusion. This encounter served as a stark reminder that, in the future, you should exercise greater discretion, ensuring that your gaze did not inadvertently linger on Mike, especially in his presence.

Your words faltered, leaving your speech marked by a pronounced stutter that only intensified the flush of warmth spreading across your cheeks, a futile attempt to conceal your burgeoning feelings. With a tender chuckle, Mike gently encouraged you to reveal your hands, appreciating the affirmation of your growing connection with him. It was not that he needed to be vindicated, but he knew that, come tomorrow at work, Vanessa would owe him ten dollars, and you would be unequivocally his.

"Shh..." He leaned in, soothing your nervousness with a hushed reassurance, his thumb tracing a delicate path across your skin, from your thighs to your plump lips. It was a sensation he had yearned for since the moment he first laid eyes on you. In the softest and most polite of tones, he inquired. "May I?" The question rendered you momentarily motionless, your entire being seemingly frozen by his request. Yet, after a fleeting internal struggle, you accepted, a shared chuckle escaping both of you in harmonious union. "You may." Your voice trembled, granting permission with a mixture of anticipation and desire.

His lips, as you had imagined, were remarkably tender, and his prowess as a kisser left no room for doubt. The intricate dance of his tongue intertwining with yours spoke volumes about his skill. Delicately, his teeth occasionally grazed the pliant flesh of your lower lip, a subtle but potent assertion of his claim over you. In response, a soft whimper escaped your lips, conveying the surrender to his captivating ways.

His hands, imbued with an electrifying touch, traversed the sinuous contours of your back before finding their way to your arse. There, his fingers deftly sought purchase, securing a subtle yet undeniable grip on you. With a swift, practiced motion, he hoisted you into his arms, a single arm encircling your petite waist while your legs entwined themselves around his, ensuring that you remained secure in his embrace. Your laughter, a melodious counterpoint to the unfolding drama, rang out softly. You playfully protested being set down, but he obstinately defied your request, his determination unwavering. In his firm yet gentle embrace, he steered you toward the bathroom, both of you destined to embark on the shared experience of a shower.

Though the prospect of sharing a shower with Mike wasn't initially a scenario that had featured in your mental repertoire, you found yourself neither voicing dissent nor wholeheartedly objecting to the idea. With a practiced gentleness, Mike settled you onto the toilet seat, his own readiness for the shower apparent. As he prepared to disrobe, you reflexively covered your eyes, fumbling for any plausible excuse to evade the situation. In response, a light, affectionate chuckle escaped Mike's lips, his shirt already having been discarded. In a swift, surreptitious glance, he stood before you, unabashedly nude. Suggestion that you were welcome to join him if you felt comfortable hung in the air, a tempting proposition.

As the steamy allure of the imminent shower beckoned, you hesitated for a fleeting moment. A silent conversation with yourself ensued, contemplating the decision. "Should I?" You whispered, a trace of uncertainty lingering. Recognizing your own need for a rejuvenating shower, you ultimately made the choice to embrace the moment, shedding any remaining hesitation.

Without a moment's hesitation, you undressed, considering that perhaps the prospect of sharing a shower with Mike was not only a means to spend more time together but also an unconventional yet alluring way to unwind. These musings, however, passed through your mind without further significance. As you calmly entered the shower room, your presence initially went unnoticed by Mike, his back turned to you. But when he eventually turned to face you, a smile graced his countenance, lending an air of relaxation to his features.

His gaze, tender and radiant, seemed to soften as it locked onto your own. "You know," He began, his voice a hushed confession that left no room for delay. "It might not be the ideal way to profess one's love for someone. But, Y/N, I do truly love you." Mike's declaration hung in the steamy air, and without a moment's pause, he leaned in, capturing your lips with a passionate, fervent kiss. This time, the embrace bore a greater intensity, laden with temptation, and his hand embarked on a sensual journey down your body, his fingers delicately caressing your breast areas. Your response was a symphony of soft whimpers escaping from your parted lips, igniting a mutual excitement that engulfed both of you in the fiery throes of the moment.

"I yearn to hear your voice, calling out my name." Mike's voice, now husky and filled with desire, resonated in the steam-filled shower chamber. His eyes, ignited by a fervent lust and passion, darkened as he reveled in the sensation of your soft whimpers, his own desire manifesting physically. His skilled hands continued to caress your breasts with a tantalizing gentleness, evoking a sensation that left you yearning for more, your head tilting back as his lips embarked on an erotic descent along your neck, branding you with conspicuous marks.

In the midst of these intoxicating moments, Mike's voice grew heavier with each pause as he spoke, laying bare his affection for you. "And..." His breath, laden with a heady mix of passion and yearning, created an almost hypnotic rhythm as he confessed, "I wish to ensure that everyone bears witness to whom you truly belong."

In a state of submission, as deeply as he desired, your fingers eagerly sought out his touch. With each caress, Mike's arousal surged, a testament to his yearning for more than just your physical presence, desiring to claim you entirely as his own. He climaxed within you, savoring the sweet sound of your angelic voice, a melodious whimper that begged for further indulgence, all while his hand firmly grasped your hair from behind. Your body leaned back, yearning to face him, its malleable form a testament to its fervent desire, eagerly seeking more and more, as your mouth reached out for his in a passionate exchange of kisses.

"Is this what you desire, my dear?" He inquired, his tone infused with a seductive allure that sent shivers of arousal down your spine, momentarily distracting you from the sensations he had in store. In that moment, all he craved was to witness your vulnerability, and Mike proved exceptionally skilled in achieving just that.

With each rhythmic thrust, you were drawn into a whirlwind of sensation, your eyes rolling upwards as a euphoric wave overtook you. Your moans, once gentle, grew in volume, filling the space with the symphony of your passion. Mike's hand, initially a guiding presence, moved over yours in an objective manner. It was as if this were merely a test, a challenge to see how long you could hold back the flood of your desires.

When his hand finally withdrew, it was as though a dam had been breached, and you surrendered to the torrents of your pleasure. The anticipation built with each powerful thrust, and in a vulnerable admission, you confessed, "I'm about to climax..."

Even though Mike had initially wanted to witness you release your desires, he withdrew, relinquishing his claim to let it all be yours. Instead, he chose to be a teasing tormentor, skillfully pleasuring you with his mouth, his face nestled between your legs, your voice calling out his name again and again as you fervently clutched his curls with your fingers.

With graceful elegance, you descended to your knees, a pout adorning your features, a silent supplication to Mike's desires. He, in response, expressed his wish to witness your climax in a more exquisite manner, his hand enveloping his arousal and guiding it with a gentle precision. As you bestowed a tender peck upon the tip of his throbbing desire, you observed his release gushing forth, an artful display that bedecked your visage.

Amidst the sensual spectacle, his moans filled the air, your name escaping his lips like a sacred mantra, entwined with a fervent curse. A solitary finger traced a casual caress along your cheek, lightly adorned with remnants of his release. Leaning closer, he entreated you to taste the evidence of your shared ecstasy, and without hesitation, you complied.

Just before you realized it, a mischievous smile graced his countenance. "You shall be mine, my dear, and mine alone." He murmured, his tone resonating with the weight of an irrevocable commitment.

"Yes, sir," you responded, your eyes sparkling with anticipation and an exhilaration that danced like firelight. He proceeded to cleanse and pamper both of your bodies, all the while lavishing you with an unceasing cascade of tender kisses. Each kiss served as a wordless proclamation of his boundless affection, a testament to the depths of his love for you.

As the warm water enveloped you both, you couldn't help but contemplate the prospect of spending more time in the showers in the days to come. After all, it seemed like a place where love, passion, and intimacy could be shared in a most exquisite and unending manner.

ꕮ 𝐵𝑒𝑔𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔. ꕮ / Steve Raglan aka William Afton

William, or Steve, is the kind of man who doesn't hesitate to assert his dominance. Whether you dare to play a prank on him or serve up a tepid cup of coffee, you can be certain he'll take swift action to make you fully comprehend the consequences of your actions. He may choose unconventional methods, like a sudden, firm slap on your arse, which will elicit startled gasps and a visible rush of warmth to your cheeks. Your eyes will practically beg for more as he leans in, his tongue sensually tracing the curve of your neck, his fingers maintaining their strong hold beneath you. He'd whisper softly while gently nibbling the lobe of your ear, "What did I say about those who misbehave..." Of course, you'd remain silent, convinced that this is all part of an enticing game. As expected, he'd let a wicked smile curl on his lips.

"They need a reminder of who they truly belong to..."

Having a relationship between Mike Schmidt and Steve Raglan

SFW 

NSFW 

This was a favorite experience for both of them. Mike, in particular, preferred a gentle and unhurried approach. He took pleasure in watching the gradual blush deepen on your cheeks with each tender moment. The subtle friction between your lingerie and the warmth of his clothing held a special allure for Mike. Let's just say that Mike reveled in intimate moments that were passionate and unhurried. In fact, there were times when he was so exhausted that he willingly relinquished control to you. When he returned home from work, he'd head straight to his room, a subtle invitation for you to join him. You'd often find him already asleep, lying on his back, his face turned towards you with closed eyes. Sometimes, the sensations of your movements would stir him, leaving you in suspense, unable to discern whether he was truly asleep or not. This ambiguity added an extra layer of enjoyment to the experience for both of you.

For Steve, it was the complete opposite. Whenever he was engrossed in work or engaged in a call with a client, you would stealthily enter his office, taking extra care to make no noise that might raise suspicion. This clandestine rendezvous was something Steve found quite enjoyable. As you approached him, it was you who would assert control before he had a chance to resist. Only once the calls and other tasks were completed would he finally wrap his arms around your petite waist. The sensation of your clothes rubbing against each other would gradually intensify, transitioning from a slow pace to something more urgent. Your voice would fill the room, calling out his name, as he leaned in to explore the curve of your neck, his full lips eagerly exploring every inch they could reach. 

Mike typically wasn't one to sneak a peek, but when he was truly captivated, you couldn't underestimate his curiosity. His fascination often went a bit overboard whenever you entered the same room as him. You began to notice this when you returned late from your job at the local canteen, still wearing the uniform that your boss required all waitresses to wear. Exhausted from your long day, you inadvertently forgot to lock the door while changing, and this presented an unexpected opportunity for Mike. Although he had seen a naked body before, it was his way of expressing his deep admiration for you. While it may have seemed a bit strange at the beginning of your relationship, you eventually grew to appreciate how his eyes would light up as each piece of clothing was removed. Even the subtle moments, like when you knelt down to retrieve something you had dropped, only to find Mike discreetly stealing a glance, became endearing in their own way.

Steve had a more uninhibited approach to peeking. While Mike would either request it in advance or on specific occasions, Steve didn't bother with such formalities. In fact, he often indulged in discreet glances in your direction whenever you made any kind of movement. Whether you were bending down to pick something up from the floor or leaning forward to him, providing him with an enticing view of your cleavage, Steve didn't hold back. Sometimes, when Steve visited the Pizzeria where you worked, your role as his employee also meant being at his beck and call for whatever he desired that evening. As the boss, he expected you to accommodate his requests, and if that involved being a source of temptation for him, he was sure to make it abundantly clear. 

Mike had a preference for unhurried and passionate encounters. He wasn't inclined to opt for quickies, and if the thought ever crossed his mind, it was likely during a moment of urgency. In general, he favored languid and intimate sessions, whether it was in the morning, sometimes in the shower, or at night – especially if you managed to steal away to the Pizzeria to entice him. He was the kind of lover who left you in a state of lingering desire, a reminder of who you belonged to, without being overly rough and leaving you sometimes when he dared to with a hint of looping tease. However, if he did go a bit too far, which you didn't mind at all. In fact, you found his earnest apologies endearing, and it even added an extra layer of intimacy to your relationship. To this, Mike didn't raise any objections.

Steve, on the other hand, had a fondness for the intensity of quick and passionate encounters. He took pleasure in witnessing your eyes roll back in ecstasy as your bodies ignited with desire, feeling your fingernails dig into his skin, leaving their mark all over you. Steve delighted in the idea of demonstrating that you were unequivocally his, regardless of the setting, even if it meant a hasty encounter in a department store's changing room. While he wasn't particularly keen on public spaces, your fascination with them was one of your fantasies that deeply aroused him, pushing him to explore more daring encounters, including in his office. Steve wasn't hesitant to leave tender red marks on your buttocks, eliciting your passionate pleas and cries for his name, often rendering you unable to move the next day. This, in turn, led to teasing and left you blushing intensely, with a pout that invited a mischievous grin to dance across his face.

Mike was incredibly nurturing and affectionate when it came to post-intimacy care. After both of you had reached the peak of pleasure, and with exhaustion from your busy days taking over, you often found yourselves napping for extended periods. His lips would tenderly pepper your warm skin, repeating declarations of love for you. Sometimes, he'd suggest taking a soothing shower together, and on other occasions, he'd wrap his arms around you to cuddle for hours, all the while engaging in lighthearted conversations about life and sharing silly dad jokes. This would often result in Mike monopolizing the conversation, but he would always pause to place a gentle kiss on your lips, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your body, conveying a desire to hold onto that intimate moment for as long as possible.

Despite Steve's dominant and somewhat sadistic tendencies, he possessed a unique and caring side, which may have seemed peculiar to some but was endearing to you. After an intimate session, he would tenderly scoop you up in a bridal style if you happened to be at home. Steve would then prepare a soothing, warm bath for both of you, complete with a glass of wine, all in an effort to pamper and clean you. He'd wash away any traces of the session and proceed to plant more kisses on your skin, as though the ones he had left earlier weren't sufficient. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sensation of his plump lips caressing your soft skin, especially as the warm bathwater enveloped both of you. Steve had a penchant for the simpler pleasures in life, and if a bath and some extra cuddling brought happiness to your world, it was all that truly mattered to him.

Together. / Mike Schimdt

Enjoy!

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

From one call to another, Mike encountered an unending stream of repetitive "nos" and polite rejections for the position he sought. It dawned on him that he might be the source of the issue, especially after the peculiar "incident" that may have left a stranger somewhat shaken. A few days post-dismissal, someone finally directed him to visit the office of Steve Raglan, a man he had never met before. Today presented the perfect opportunity. Mr. Raglan fit the mold of a man from a bygone era, with his distinctive round glasses and traditional attire. Michael's growing apprehension made him wonder if venturing into this place had been a poor decision all along.

A hushed pause enveloped the room as Mr. Raglan perused Mike's professional background with casual interest. "Well, Mike..." He paused in the midst of his sentence, stealing a quick, appraising glance in his direction. Mike responded nonchalantly. "Yes?" His voice, however, lacked the self-assuredness he longed to convey.

"Care for some coffee?" Steve's inquiry was succinct yet brimming with anticipation as he strolled toward his coffee machine. Mike hesitated, then replied, "Um... No, thank you. I'd rather get this done quick." Deep down, Mike yearned for a stable job, one that would enable him to look after his sister, Abby, and perhaps even sway their aunt to grant them custody.

Steve sensed the growing impatience in his client, who was eager to learn what the future had in store. "You know," Steve remarked, returning to his chair, his voice now tinged with excitement – a side effect, Mike presumed, of his coffee intake. "I recognize this place. It's a place where someone like you would give anything for the job..." A spark of curiosity ignited within Mike as he leaned closer to Mr. Reglan, raising an intrigued brow. "And," Mike inquired. "what makes this place so special?" Steve paused briefly, carefully choosing his words. "Well, you see..."

Mike found himself utterly perplexed by the revelation before him. The location had not only been abandoned since the '80s but also, the job requirements were far from aligning with his original intentions. The compensation was dismal, and he couldn't help but suspect that perhaps none of the previous security guards had been paid properly either. Or not paid at all. It involved a shift he had no expertise in and had no intention of pursuing, particularly after having to bail on his babysitter to bring Abby with him. It was an unequivocal "No." He declared firmly, convinced that this man was even more cynical than he was.

"Are you absolutely certain? Your resume suggests you're more than capable for the position." Mr. Raglan made one final attempt to persuade, his features softening subtly from their earlier rigidity. However, Mike shook his head once more, resolute in his decision. He muttered briefly about the job being the primary source of his conflict, preventing him from seeing Abby or ensuring she had a decent meal, not to mention avoiding losing custody to his aunt. With determination, he rose from his chair, ready to leave the office. Just as Mike was about to exit, Steve handed him his business card, his demeanor marked by a slight pout, swiftly followed by a confident smile. "Just in case, take this," he suggested. Mike, though hesitating for a moment, accepted the card out of politeness and left the office without a word.

After his meeting with Mr. Raglan, Mike's quest for the ideal job seemed to come to an unfortunate conclusion. None of the places he had contacted before his appointment with the advisor, and none since, had offered him any promising prospects. He was beginning to contemplate that maybe accepting the night shift at this particular place was the most feasible option for now. If nothing else, it would provide him with a source of income, and the busy night hours might keep his mind occupied. What enticed him even more was the prospect of being his own boss, with no co-workers to influence his ever-present paranoia. This thought made him more determined than ever to give it a try.

On that very same day, as Abby engrossed herself in her beloved TV shows, Mike settled in to tackle his usual paperwork. It was a task he wasn't particularly fond of, especially considering how the bills seemed to climb higher with each passing month. Even though they were essentially the same, being currently unemployed gave him the impression that each payment had somehow inflated. Just as he was wrapping up his tax payments, a business card slipped through the paperwork, piquing his curiosity and triggering an unexpected flashback.

He hesitated for a moment, contemplating the significance of the card, and then made an impulsive decision. Michael picked up the card and dialed Mr. Reglan's number.

Silence greeted Mike on the other end of the line, as if Mr. Raglan had anticipated the need to give him some space before speaking. "Hello, Mr. Raglan, it's Mike." He began, slightly perplexed. Oddly enough, he could almost sense the man's smile from the other end of the call. It was a whimsical, knowing smile, as if the company had despaired of finding anyone willing to take on the position. Advising Mr. Raglan to take anyone who had agreed upon the offer. "The man who doesn’t do night shifts..." 

“How may I help you?” 

He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep gulp. Ultimately, if he hoped to secure some much-needed income by the end of the month, Mike felt he had no choice but to go for it. With trepidation, he inquired about the availability of the job position. Mr. Raglan's response was swift and affirmative, exuding a sense of warmth toward the young man's inquiry. Encouraged by this, Mr. Raglan asked, "So, from the seemingly random question, can I assume you are accepting to be the Night Guard? Is that correct?"

“Yes.” Mike firmly agreed. 

“Well!” Mr. Raglan exclaimed with a beam smile written on his features. “Now let me explain you everything you need to know…” 

Mike's first night turned out to be anything but simple, despite his initial expectations. Although he had assumed it would be a straightforward affair, the reality hit him when he arrived at the Pizzeria. Mr. Raglan had painted an enticing picture, but the reality was far from appealing. The exterior of the place was drab, with a sign in disrepair, and an entrance that appeared older than Mike himself. The eerie atmosphere left him questioning the wisdom of his decision to accept the job. However, the need for money was a compelling motivator, so he soldiered on.

As he stepped into the building, he recalled being informed that the technology was outdated yet operational, suggesting that someone had been there before him to maintain it. Regardless, as long as their shifts didn't overlap, it was a situation he could live with. However, as he prepared to settle into his office, a profound sense of isolation crept over him. Or perhaps it was a feeling he had merely convinced himself of.

On that very night, Mr. Raglan had called for a check-in, a practice that you found rather unsettling. It only served to worsen your already fragile sleep schedule as the weeks passed. What made it even more distressing were the persistent, haunting visions of them replaying in your mind – flashbacks of their appearances at the restaurant and even inside your own home. But what set your anxiety spiraling was the presence of an eerie figure intertwined with these visions. This haunting scenario ultimately drove you to seek medical attention at the hospital due to severe sleep deprivation. After that harrowing incident, it's safe to say that your eyes would seldom close.

You had also received a rather cryptic warning to keep an eye on the new night security guard, as if your job wasn't demanding enough on its own. Strangely enough, you had never laid eyes on the big boss, nor had any idea what he even looked like. All you knew was that he had a penchant for privacy and seemed to have great faith in Mr. Raglan's knack for providing these kinds of employment opportunities.

As you cruised through the town, dressed in your security guard uniform, you made a pit stop at the convenience store. There, you grabbed some instant coffee and a few snacks to keep yourself alert during your night shift. It wasn't as if you desperately needed them, but considering the unpredictable behavior of the animatronics, especially on the new security guard’s very first day, you opted to stay on high alert. After all, it had been who knew how long since you'd managed to keep your sanity intact while enduring the trials of this dismal place.

You had casually mentioned to Vanessa that you had a few errands to run. She appeared as exhausted as you, both of you affected by the recent ordeal involving the security guard. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor guy, always caught in the middle of chaos and associated with the color purple. It seemed absurd that something so innocuous could be the root of all these problems, but you quickly dismissed such thoughts. After paying the cashier and expressing your gratitude, you left the store behind.

Mike's night was surprisingly going well, and he mused, "It's not as bad as I thought." Despite his seemingly confident tone, he remained alert and cautious. While you had explicitly advised Vanessa not to come and check on you, yet she did precisely the opposite. Mike suddenly became aware that he was not alone. Could it be a burglar? He had been sternly warned against letting any strangers in, and he was determined to follow that advice. However, Vanessa's impressive familiarity with the Pizzeria allowed her to slip in through an alternate entrance, demonstrating her knowledge of the place. Leading Mike into desperate urgent major. Finding the burglar. 

Meeting Vanessa had caught him off guard, and he was momentarily taken aback by her unexpected presence. Vanessa, however, took the initiative to speak on his behalf. "You must be the new security guard," she observed. Mike, still trying to process who this woman was, offered a hesitant nod, prompting a chuckle from Vanessa at his reaction. "I'm Vanessa," she introduced herself, her tone light. "Security guard by day, and assistant by night."

"Assistant?" Mike scrutinized her, contemplating whether he should call the big boss to confirm her role. However, Vanessa reassured him, saying. "No need to. The big boss called Y/N to fix Foxy's lair."

"Y/N?" Mike inquired, skepticism evident in his voice. "And why should I take your word for it without any proof?" He stayed close to the camera footage and swiftly switched to the next camera, which was focused on Foxy's area. Everything appeared to be in pristine condition, suggesting the entire place had been left deserted. "And who is this... Y/N?"

Vanessa pointed at the screen displaying the main entrance, where you were standing, clearly aware of the camera above. You cheekily flipped your finger at the camera, leaving Mike torn between the belief that Vanessa was indeed present or that the security guard was merely doing his job, and she wasn't there at all.

"I informed them that I wouldn't be around, but they are rather fragile. They are being advised to be checked on during their shift." Vanessa explained. "While I focus on the animatronics to avoid raising any suspicion, I suggest you go and check on them.”

The instructions were unmistakable, and Mike had little choice but to comply. "But... what if the boss finds out I'm not at my station?" He voiced his concern. Vanessa couldn't help but chuckle softly, feeling a pang of sympathy for him. "Don't fret. He's already aware." She reassured him, her expression tinged with a hint of guilt.

"Great," Mike muttered with an eye roll as he returned to monitoring the main entrance. He couldn't help but steal a glance at your figure, noticing how cold you seemed on this early fall night. He could practically see you shouting on the other line, "Hey, jerk! Let me in, it's freezing out here!" Even though he couldn't hear your words, he could tell from the expression on your face. In response, he finally granted you access, and you muttered with relief. "About time..." just before stepping inside.

As you stepped inside, the interior of the place made you acutely aware of your luck, albeit in an eerie way. It was undeniably creepy, yet you had an inexplicable sense of safety and even felt oddly welcomed. Foxy, known to be the most terrifying and historically the meanest of them all, somehow found solace in your presence. You could have sworn that at times, his eyes seemed to lower, watching as you tended to him. It was as though he had a hidden identity, not quite ready to reveal his true nature, you suspected.

As you wandered through the Pizzeria, Mike couldn't help but notice your diminutive figure amidst all the towering animatronics. He found it difficult to fathom how someone so petite could be employed in this establishment. He murmured his thoughts to Vanessa, nudging her gently. "Maybe we—" He began, but she quickly interrupted, saying, "Not now."

As you finished repairing Bonnie, the big boss tasked you with fixing Foxy, who had been acting strangely. It struck you as odd because Foxy typically only reacted to potential intruders. He preferred targeting moving objects over those playing hide and seek until they got too close. You made your way up to his lair, pulled back the curtains, and revealed his silhouette. "Seems like someone's been naughty lately..." Your voice usually provided comfort, but today it had an odd tone. "Have you...met the new guard?" You found it rather absurd to be talking to a robotic entity, particularly one as poorly and cheaply programmed as you had discovered. If there was one thing you wanted to tell the big boss, assuming you ever met them, it was to consider upgrading the gear if they ever thought of opening another Pizzeria. 

On the other end, Mike observed you with a watchful eye. It didn't take long before you began repairing Foxy's arm and his body started to glitch unexpectedly. "Weird... I thought—" Your words were abruptly cut off by a loud and startling BANG. Foxy's eyes were now fixed on you, but they were different from what you were used to. They were red and filled with anger, just like in your recurring nightmares. In that harrowing moment, you froze in place, uncertain of what to do next. "Y/N!" Vanessa's voice came through the walkie-talkie, but you couldn't hear it. Everything around you felt vacant, as if you were about to become Foxy's last meal of the night... or so you feared.

An arm swiftly reached out and pulled you close to its owner. Mike clutched you tightly, and a sense of terror and dread washed over both of you. It was Mike who managed to break free from the grip and make a dash for the monitor room, but just as he got there, Bonnie arrived, blocking his path. "Damn it," he cursed, frantically scanning for an alternate route. You, from your vantage point, weakly directed him, "The first aid room...to the right."

Without uttering a word of thanks, which, given the gravity of the situation, seemed secondary to getting you to safety, Mike finally brought you to the emergency room. It was a room that had seen far too much use, but oddly enough, everything seemed to return to normal once you arrived. The animatronics had moved elsewhere, and for some reason, they couldn't access the area. This brought a sense of relief to Mike. He carefully placed your body on a rather shabby bunk bed and softly murmured, "Here..." You remained in a state of shock, your eyes wide as if your body had been frozen in place. "Hey," He attempted to reassure you, "you're safe now. Vanessa should... Great job, Mike, real smooth." He berated himself inwardly for his awkward choice of words.

Upon hearing Vanessa's presence, you lifted your head abruptly, your eyes brimming with tears you were trying to hold back. Just when you thought of her, she appeared, precisely knowing where to find you. You felt a mixture of relief and concern as she leaned in to inspect you for any wounds or scratches, cupping your face and keeping her gaze locked on you. "Has they had any water?" Mike, who was present to assist, appeared increasingly nervous this time. Being new to this place, he didn't know everything either. "Where... Where is it?" He stammered, quickly searching the room. Vanessa pointed in the direction, her eyes never leaving you. "The first storage room to the left."

"Y/N, look at me." Vanessa implored, his voice filled with unease. "The man doesn't exist. He's not here... He's a fictional—"

Nervously, Mike handed the water bottle to Vanessa, who then offered it to you. This time, you shook your head vigorously, tears streaming down your face. "No! I saw him. Foxy spoke his name to me! It can't just be in my dreams!" You pleaded, desperate to convince them, despite your previous breakdowns being labeled as delusional by past doctors. As you shook your head, you realized that Mike was beside you. You clung to his arm, causing him to gulp nervously, just a little. "You have to believe me... Please..."

Mike found it hard to believe, even though you had clearly experienced a breakdown in that moment. While it was entirely understandable, he tried to do the same thing Vanessa did. "Perhaps you should just take a moment to breathe." He suggested. "Whenever I'm in a state of panic, my doctor advises me to take deep breaths." You observed him closely and countered. "And does your doctor say you're insane?"

Insane…

As undeniable as the truth was, it struck Mike that perhaps you were right. Everything seemed so peculiar when it came to Abby and Y/N's imaginary friends, especially with Vanessa working so hard to conceal her friend's breakdowns. "You know... now that you mention it..." Mike began, leaning in to discuss it further. Vanessa attempted to nudge him away, but you allowed him to continue. But he stopped. And by locking eyes with each other, you both knew something was wrong with this place. So in response, you leaned in and wrapped yourself in his arm. There was something about him that felt like home. You felt protected and, for once, someone truly understood you.

On the other hand, Mike comforted you with a few soothing rubs on your back. He glanced at Vanessa, who seemed to share the relief but carried a heavy load of guilt inside, which she wasn't ready to disclose to either Mike or you. “Shh… I got you.” He said, with a soothing voice that remembered it as your older brother. Not letting it go he continued. “We are going to get through all of this together… Y/N.” 

“Together…” 

In the distance, Abby observed the trio with Foxy's humanoid presence beside her. Foxy, who felt a deep sense of guilt for what he had done to them just hours ago, hesitated to intervene to bring Y/N back to him. However, as he watched Mike and you, he felt a strong urge to protect you, jealousy even you were a mother figure for everyone, but especially Foxy. Abby noticed his face changing into hatred until she halted him with a reassuring smile. "There's no need," Abby whispered. "They have found someone... Someone who truly cares for them. Someone who will love and protect them."

Foxy silently observed the scene unfolding before his eyes, and as he heard Abby's words, he felt a sense of relief welling up within him. Watching it all happen, Foxy came to realize that Abby was indeed right. Y/N had found someone they could genuinely rely on, someone with whom she could openly express their feelings..

Fin. 

Till life and death | Henry Creel

Henry remembered you.

He remembers everything.

From being the first project to once favorited by its own mentors. Mind you his ideologies weren’t working in his favors either. The time and effort he crafted to perfection now ruined right beneath his eyes, just as he witness your presence. A silhouette so delicate, almost too delicious not to devour in one bite. A fragrance so strong it almost made him sick to the stomach and yet it possessed him not to leave you out of his sight.

Luckily you worked part time at the laboratory and you were assigned to coordinate each patient’s medications and procedure when the time came. You definitely knew about 001. His real name however, remained another subject. With chance your shift was not aligned with his and by the time you got the hang of your position, Dr. Brenner assigned you with more patients. Almost protesting to argue to why, his only reasoning were that you were the best for the position and he had put his full trust on you and no one else.

It has been a few days since the new shift. Not truly on board with the decision, a single thought brought you joy the second you stepped foot inside the laboratory. Coffee. Only a simple yet official sip of fresh brewed coffee had brought enough exhatic and mindless thoughs before starting this hell hole of a routine. Before heading to work, a co-worker you worked with gave you the list of the new and usual patients you were going to serve today and for the rest of your life. “Good luck.” He knew your sentimental about new faces and with the smirk he gave you before leaving, you were for of a god damn ride.

Thanking the nurses with the new medication prescribed everything felt now new to you. As if you were back to square one. Noticing you were in advance doing a full run of your usual patients was probably the best decision until it reaches to the unknown. Time went relatively quick, patients grew happy when seeing your arrival others went mental and were sent to the isolation room. With a sigh of relief you were able to get most of them. Just when your finger brushes through the texture paper and saw the number. A number no one. No one not even the damn nurses were to wish upon anything to face this thing. 001.

With a sigh of unsureness the grip of your fingers as it held the tray became slightly slippery by each steps as you approached the room. You are a grown woman, it can’t be that bad. A damn fool. Telling such things to your self you were this close to think that maybe you were the one utterly insane. That everything around you was only just a dream.

“Come in.”

That voice… It caught you so sudden yet it grasped your body like a cloud into the sky. You leaned closer to the door, his back facing you, your fingers trembling by the touch. The doorknob felt cold just like his presence and the moment you opened the door, a woosh of subtle wind embraces your cheeks as if the air itself had truly interpreted onto him.

“You’re the new nurse, I suppose?”

“Yes.”

Great. First impressions failed miserably the first instinct was to leave the tray and rush to the exist soon as possible. The lesser you talked the less trouble you caused. With knowing such little information about him the chances of creating an awkwardness awareness grew more by the ticking clock within each seconds that passed by.

“You are not going to serve me?”

He turned to face you. The bright blue that shines through his eyes caughting you so off guard somehow spread a soft smile upon his delicate features. It had struck you so much that you barely noticed how ridiculous you looked when blinking a few times to return to reality and with shame and hesitation politely asked him to repeat his question.

“You are not going to serve me?”

His voice was more demanding this time. Definitely left you out of your comfort zone, however you managed to nod quietly humming a subtle yes enough for him to understand. Meaning reading through the lips almost became a second nature to him. Approaching him you noticed the cold once met prior but with luck you got used to it. “Here is your usual. I don’t have sadly the procedure on his your medication works but I am sure-”

He chuckles. Fuck. You should’ve shut your damn mouth and left things there. His eyes finally met yours, offering you a sit next to him. Uncertain about it, patients like this were rare in the laboratory. You remembered the discussion you had before getting offered the shift by Dr. Brenner.

“Oh and Y/N?”

“Yes, Dr. Brenner?”

“I’ll be assigning you a new patient by Monday. He is normally under my care but this time and with my full trust I will give it to you.”

With the incident of another nurse disappearing after a doing the opposite of Benner’s orders, no one not even its own god damn secretaries took the opportunity to be against his ideologies. So in Benner’s words you followed 001’s request and requested him to serve his medication the preferred way.

When the serving began silence corrupted the room either 001 enjoyed empty white covered window’s room or you were 100% going to prescribe yourself another medication in order to calm overlapping loop as you served him the correct measurement and water intake over and over again until none was left in the tray.

“May I say something?”

“Of course…” The shyness in your voice was for a him a sort of a amusement. Almost too laughable to not notice when the color of your cheeks turned into a slight shade of pink.

“Out of all the nurses I had in the pass, you are one of a awkward yet the most beautiful creature, I’ve seen.”

Wait a god damn minute… was that a compliment or an insult. Either way not deceiving him was probably the best option. “Um… Thank you?”

“Henry is the name.”

Henry… You mesmerized it in your head. His name felt so smooth as you murmured it softly almost too well for you own sake.

“Well… what’s yours?” He apologizes by telling you that he had been definitely lacking social skills ever since his other nurse sadly passed away.

“The name is- is Y/N. I work-”

“Yes I know you. He told me about you. He told me that you were my new… guardian angel. Although I believe it should be the other way around, what do you think?”

Pinch myself. Was all you thought when hearing such baffled words coming from your patient’s name. Almost to the point of laughing out of agony. That is of course when you had the guts to do so, but his present was so much stronger than anything other you almost started to believe him.

That is when he approaches from a few inches closer coughing you off guard as you felt his lips slightly brushing against yours but not enough to potentially be this close. The cold of his fingers almost white as snow touched your lips, ushing you to make another word. Smirking when he knew that his new prey was withing a blink of an eye right in front of him. The one he looked, craved, dreamed off every night since.

“Shhh.. Peter is the only one that matters now. You are now under his rules, power and wishes. He will protect you just as you will protect him. Till life and death.”

His words hypnotized you without even being aware of. You felt suddenly so petite around him, wanting to take him under his wings.

“Say it.”

It became more crisp. Almost as if you ever decided to run now, both of your lives were to vanish away completely. Your eyes locked within each other not leaving it out sight. You gulp out of nervousness, realizing you were to starstruck by his power, his words effortlessly blended with yours.

“Say… what?”

“Till life and death.”

The one with the hidden bruises. | Steve Harrington Imagine

Warning : Abuse/Violence/Slurs

Type : Sad.

Enjoy ♥︎

Your’s and Steve’s relationship had always come either with pure rage or jealousy with one another. Knowing you were Billy’s twin out a 100 the chances of you adapting the same attitude of your brother wasn’t even questionable.

Classes ended in a matter of hour and all of the students went home or somewhere they could get their desire distractions away from school for the next twenty four hours.

You on the other hand decided to go on a walk around Hawkins’s school and the park. You had warned your brother earlier about your absent once back home and to tell your father before he could get worried. Or worse angry.

One of your hand in your pocket another one holding your bag’s strap you were ready to start your little journey. You were fairly new to Hawkins and your curiousity took over you and you just had to adventure yourself out there.

After all Hawkins was a small village you weren’t so scared of getting lost anyway. During your little adventure you realized something very different. The citizens were welcoming and so calmed which was the complete opposite of California. Yet without your mother around Cali nor Hawkins nor anywhere it wasn’t the same.

You knew you had to get yourself lost on your own thought when you felt a strange car sound coming near you nearly scaring you to death. You knew it slowed down when your head looked over to see who could possibly follow you. Especially at this time.

It was Steve. His vehicle engine stopped once he parked next to you. He kneeled down his head a little to have a better look at you. “You know for a pretty girl like you, staying this late wouldn’t be good for your own safety.”

Shit. Have you been walking this long to realize it that the sun was practically down at this point?

You rolled your eyes. “Look who’s talking. For someone who isn’t creepy at all driving around the city to follow pretty girls. Yeah totally not creepy at all. Harrington.”

The way you had said his last name made him more irritated then he ever was and you liked doing so. “Don’t spill useless words out your mouth, Hargrove. Now come. I’m going to bring you home.”

Home? Crap. Knowing it was getting late your family has probably started dinner by now.

“No.”

He looked at you with disbelief. “Y/N, your parents must be getting pretty worried. Or do you even have any parents? Who am I kidding you two are such a piece of meat that I bet you, your parents disowned you both and made you move here.”

You were this close to punch him but he was Steve and you were.... you. “Suck it up dipshit, I bet Nancy left you because of that small dick of yours.”

Ouch. Steve acted as if he was shock or even felt humiliated at all. “Also let’s face it your brain could only hold a kid way younger than you to even keep yourself stable these days. How sad.”

Now you had pull the last strains of his patient. He started the engine of his vehicle and once you were fully settled in his car he drove not minding a shit at the speed limit he was driving on at this point.

You two didn’t say a single word when you finally arrived at your house. The lights were on and your father’s and Susan’s car were also parked. You were in some deep shit.

You got out of the car not even facing Steve due to the conversation you both had earlier before the drive until your father opened the door before you could do so. “Y/N, your late.”

You lowered your head, “I know, Sir...” Neil tried his best to remain the father he was meant to be and to educate his children professionally especially when Steve was still watching from a distant. “I didn’t quite understand.”

“Yes, Sir... and I—-“ You felt his firm fingers slapping the right side of your cheek. Being so use to it you didn’t even flinched. Once you lifted your head up you looked around like a lost puppy. Not only for something but for someone. “Your /precious/ Billy went to pick up dinner for you. Since we ate everything.”

Neil then grasp both of your arm and violently slammed your back on the wall near the door way. Steve couldn’t believe his own eyes.

The Hargroves he thought he knew from the start, now knew damn well why the two of you acted all tougher. Your attitude in school was a way to keep your broken pieces far away the from arch reality you had been living. Especially after your mother’s passing.

“If you weren’t such a whore 24/7. At least we could’ve shown you some respect.”

You just couldn’t believe, Susan on the other hand tried to rassure Neil and informed him that a gentleman with the name Steve Harrington has picked you up from your walk. And to as an excuse said that you had a rough day to make the situation loosen a bit.

She was trying her best you knew that. But when your father’s eyes darkened he said. “Who’s Steve?”

“One of Maxine’s good friend to. Apparently he’s some kind of babysitter...?” She chuckled nervously. Trying everything in her power to distract your father from this hell you now couldn’t escape from.

“Y/N?” A voice way too familiar was heard. It was Billy. He had picked you some food and with worried eyes looked at not only you but your father as well. Until his expression darkens. “Keep your filthy hands off her now.”

And with that your eyes looked up at Steve from across the street. You could only look at him not moving an itch until your father closed the door knowing damn well where you were looking to.

Steve on the other hand had watched the whole scene with his own two bloody eyes. You needed to get out of there not only yourself but Billy and Maxine. But for now he just couldn’t he had to let the life decide. Whether he liked it or not.

After the whole situation of embarrassment, you cried all night. Your father kept yelling at you to stop hanging with whoever this Steve was. You tried to resonate with him but as time went you realize you had been talking to a wall this whole time.

Now cuddled up in Billy’s arms. Billy caressed gently your fresh bruised your father had been giving you when Steve watched. “Since when..?” Billy couldn’t believe. How could he be so blinded by his father’s actions. Especially towards the person he cared the most out of this family. /You/.

“I want this to be over Billy.... Why can’t he just accept the fact that mom’s gone and I can never be like her....” You sniffed one of your last tears and wiped them up with your fingers.

“If he ever lay a hand on you tell me, if this happened ever since mom died I could’ve saved your ass, Y/N you know that.” You nodded and soon your eyes felt heavy and your were exhausted and sleeping was your only cure right now. “Rest now, tomorrow you and I on a long road trip far from Hawkins and a huge after care.... Sleep well.”

Maxine had arrived from one of Will’s D&D games. She was blinded by the situation the both of you had between you and your father. Susan tried everything to keep her daughter far away from the abuse. She would often be told “Go play with your friends and I’ll come pick you up.” After all Maxine didn’t complained at all socializing and making friends were her own way of surviving.

Once she step foot inside her home she felt the tension. Had Billy gotten into trouble again? She didn’t bothered to ask the game she had tonight had her so thrilled. As she walked towards your room she began to speaks. Like a little sister who’s exciting to share a moment of the day with her older one.

“Y/N? Guess what! You are welcome to play! Thought on the other hand, Steve will be there to. I know you hate his guts just as Billy does but—!”

She then heard the small cries of yours. She leaned on your bedroom door and opened slightly hoping she hasn’t got herself caught, yet.

“Shh....” Maxine couldn’t quite understand. She had never seen Billy like that. Nor Y/N. Did she had a break up? No... From what she remembered she was single. Her eyes soon then adjust themselves with the slightly dim of light from your room. Bruises on your arms. No.... How?

With surprise Neil closed the door soon as he sees his step daughter peaking into her older’s sibling’s room. “Time for bed kid.”

She didn’t argued and knew them well what was going on at this point. Billy and you didn’t had that though persona it was your father who both mentally and physically had turned you into this state. She wanted to do something but for now she had to just like Steve let what the life decides to give.

The one with the confession | Steve Harrington Imagine.

**wrote this around midnight minors error might happened will be editing on it’s way.

Having a student in Hawkins quickly made to the news. Somehow every girls were talking about it. For once it wasn’t a new girl where all the boys began to drool over and once she had fully settled was quickly forgotten.

That’s what you get from living in a small town. You walked your way to class as someone grasp on your arm. A thrilled Nancy Wheeler got the both of you in the classroom. In a rush you didn’t even had the time to question when she first speaks. “Have you seen the new kid?”

Ah, the new kid. You shook your head. “No? Should I be worried or should I?” She laughed at my question. All I could do was frowning and looking at her beyond confused. “Billy Hargrove, a hot stuff if I say so myself. You should’ve seen.”

You had to remember yourself that Nancy wasn’t taken anymore. She was an independent woman and you took inspiration from that. The way she kept describing Billy could literally be seen as someone who would write a love letter to a crush or a celebrity. Yet you didn’t judge her for that.

Once school ended, you decided to finish your work at the school library. You knew Dustin would be at the arcade by now. The only worry was to prepare dinner for the family due to your mom coming late from work.

As you tried to concentrate yourself from all of the thoughts that came into your head, from the talks about how Billy looked amazing in denim jacket and the gossip between your friends just bombarded all of your thoughts. You were tired and what could Billy possibly give anyway?

Only soon to be taken by surprised with Steve who somehow also felt the same way. He had been not only bragged about who this “famous” Billy was but faced to a deadly match during his basketball practice.

“You look like you’ve been defeated by something. Where’s the king Steve that I so used to know?”

A sigh only came out, you knew something was wrong. You knew Steve too well. “Come on, shoot.”

With that he began to rant about everything. He hated every guts of Billy. Just like you did. Even if you didn’t directly met in person you could sense it. “And with that he humiliated me during practice. Can you believe?”

You delicately place your hand onto his with a gentle squeeze. “Fuck him.”

He frowned, not knowing a thing who you were referring it too. “Who?”

“Fuck him, fuck Billy. Fuck him. Whoever he is.”

He shook his head chuckling softly. “Thank you, Y/N. But I don’t think King Steve is going to be kept any longer...”

With that you cupped his face with both of your hands. You always did that when Dustin felt down or either discouraged it was your way of affection and caring. Especially towards the people you loved the most. “Cut that crap, Steve. In my heart you are the King. The king that melts every girls heart. Fuck Billy he can suck it for all I care. I only love and know one King. I love yo—“

Steve was left in shock was that a.. confession? He couldn’t put it right. “Did you just...?” In realization your eyes were wide opened with no words left you simply gathered your stuff and saluted Steve, reminding yourself to pick up Dustin as an excuse.

“Ugh, I... See you tomorrow Steve...“ You murmured to yourself for being so obvious and stupid for ever doing so.

“See you tomorrow, oh and I love you too.”

And there he was watching you as you turned around facing him. Soon realizing about your confessions and probably having to deal with a happy Dustin once he had heard the news from Steve.

The one with the blush. | Newt Imagines [A little bit of Minho?]

For someone who had to endure another final sprint outside of the Maze, still alive and well, was quite a surprise. Not only for yourself but for Minho as well. Sadly, you knew that once both had got into the glade, you will have to deal with one of his other teasings.

Finally arriving to your destination you could already sense the smirk on Minho’s face. “Not so bad for someone who kept complaining on my wonderful plan.” You rolled your eyes and murmured a few words in which we’re quiet curses for only you to hear.

Once inside the glade, both of you were then greeted by the other Gladers until your eyes now glanced to your right to see an unfamiliar face. To your surprise a Greenie had arrived while you and Minho were on a run. Yet you were beyond excited of meeting him.

“Looks like we are having a new one.” You smiles only to make the new boy jumped by surprised, turning to face you. It wasn’t until the moment you decided to held your hand out of politeness that something caught your arm before you even did. “Love, you better get washed. We can smell the awful sweat from a distance.” Newt said only to cause you more irritation and nodded without saying a bloody word.

“He’s right,” Minho laughed, nudging your arm. “You should’ve have seen her Newt. For someone who’s constantly complaining she isn’t so bad after all.” You frowned, not knowing a damn thing where he was going. All you could do is hit his right arm out of defense. “What’s that suppose to mean?!” For a first impression sure the Greenie was entertaining himself.

You had enough and both of you walked still arguing like two sibling to then go wash yourself and change into some proper clothes.

Leaving then a Greenie somehow in admiration by you and how naturally comfortable you seems to be. I mean being an only girl in world of boys was in fact quite of a shock for not only himself but you as well.

——

The bonfire came and everyone was enjoying the ceremony. Some were drunk some were dancing. As for Newt he joined the Greenie who had sat down far away from the scenery, hoping to find peace. Yet not as far for you to had caught your attention at the two boys.

“Enjoying the first day?” Newt smiled, trying his best to rassure their new companion. “You will get use to it trust me. The first few days aren’t always the best but once you get to know one another, time flies.”

The Greenie nodded, while glancing at time to time at the bonfire, from a distance casually glancing on not only you (while you weren’t looking back of course) but at Minho too. Watching as the both of danced and laughed not even minding a damn thing about the awful world surrounding you.

Newt’s eyes surrounded at whatever the Greenie was even looking over to and soon smirks, upon hearing his timid question. “Not to be a bother but... Are Y/N and Minho....?”

“You have a thing for Minho?” Newt played along knowing them well who the new boy was referring it to. “No... I meant Y/N and Minho are they a?”

Newt shook his head. “The answer to that question : No. Friends? You could say that it’s pretty close.” With that in mind the Greenie out of habit glanced back at you and the rest of the Gladers. Who could have possibly won your heart? Gally? Alby? Fry? Maybe he was just taking things to seriously for his own good. After all how could he possibly know all of you well, he just got here.

Out of the bloom he got taken by surprise as you walked over them with two glass of drink in each hands. “Here you go boys.” You smiled while handing one to Newt and the Greenie.

And without any explanation, Newt being his usual self grabbed the drink and leaned to press a kiss on your lips. Leaving you blushing slightly, he sure knew how kissing in public made you shy, especially around a new Greenie. Or anyone.

“Thank you, Love. “ He smirked looking at you and the Greenie both surprised by his action. Yet you on the other hand knew damn well why he did it. Either it was by pure jealousy or someone who you started to understand had probably talked about you to much to make him that irritated. Newt was a guy of pride and he sure did show it to the other Gladers that you were his and his only. It was a different way to show him how much he loved you and you weren’t complaining about it at all. With all of that, you readjust yourself with a soft smile a few stuttered. “I-I-I’m going to joined the others. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, doll.” And with that the Greenie was left once again by surprised with only Newt laughing, ruffling the Greenie’s hair.

“Don’t sweat, Greenie. You will find someone soon. Maybe Minho who knows? But Y/N is mine. So I would recommend you to take your bloody eyes and hands off soon enough before things get worst.”