#mild angst (?)

[iluvsanrio444]

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chapter one plot ⋆˚࿔ : Ever since interactions between Huntrix and The Saja Boys, Romance had been eyeing you down. The exchanged glances and personal space not being a thing each time till the point you find yourself in a fling with Romance. That’s how you thought to view it as, no more than a fling, right? Humans and demons aren’t capable to love each other. Even hunters wouldn’t be capable. What makes you expect this would actually turn out right?

word count -> 2,624

#Fluff #mild-angst #comedic #romcom #movies-plot #context based

ʚɞ A/N: Depending on the performance for this chapter, i’ll turn this into a series with many more chapters to come by! Any suggestions after this feel free to send me anything or maybe feedback :3 ENJOYY!!

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There were a millions of reasons why this shouldn’t be happening. Not like this.

It started with innocent long glances between the two when both HuntriX and The Saja Boys would conflict with each other. Nothing out of the norm, right? However, whenever interactions like these happen, you can't help but always feel a pair of eyes on you, you only. The way he lingered a little longer before following the others to exit. Softening gazes when you did make eye contact, one where.. he— he meant no harm? Nonsense, he's a demon. All demons are nefarious.

Even knowing this, being the odd one out it felt weird at first, but soon after it tingled within your heart, the strings being tugged on like wireless cables. This was only the result of Celine's parenting, continuously doting on Rumi even after knowing both you and she possess your father's demon traits. The only difference was she had it all: the talent, the aspiration, the ability, and the power. Everything. You? …Yeah maybe some aspiration and some strength but never the talent. At least not up to Rumi's level.

As days passed by, there were challenges between the sisters, but this played out well since it did make them grow fonder and understanding of each other, trying to accept their roles. It wasn't so bad; you didn't have to hide the staggering markings with Rumi and Rumi too. It only hit you meticulously at times, looking at the group performing from the wings, fans cheering them on..being loved, acknowledged for who you are, and recognised for you.

You were supposed to be up there if only your mother had just… put a little oomph into you, you know? Instead, you were just their helper, a personal manager next to Bobby. Although you did have trouble accepting this, the only way was to force yourself. It was, in fact, inevitable at the end of the day.

Who the hell would be contempt with this? You must be Buddha to be!

Every time it was like someone immensely poking drumsticks at your abdomen each time fans recognised the trio whilst you had to stand at the sides. Invisible. To you it felt like you were their clerk at times, nothing less different than from a Joseon princess's eunuch; you might as well scream jeonhaaa. Ugh. Anyone who knew your situation would take pity on you or, matter of fact, just clown you for it. Yeah, you were the clown near the trio, - it felt like putting rouge on a corpse.

Being Rumi’s sister, you were already built to despise the Saja boys ever since they debuted with their song “Soda Pop”. Even Zoey, who always was headed to whichever guy she comically popped popcorn out of her eyes and even bopped her shoulders to their song, had some hatred for them. Yet here you are, hands limp on the metal railing, tinging your forearms with its mint. Again he had come by one of the members in the same very group you were told to despise. Romance. The palpable, effortlessly charming, labelled ‘playboy’ in the group, the annoying sugar-gazing... loveable… enduring — okay, what the flip. As your eyes followed the pink-haired man swiftly but silently jumping over the railing, a sigh left, knowing where your thoughts were headed about this overly love-addict bastard.

“You’re here..- again?” Your eyes still focus on Romance, clearly not fazed by this in the moment. You didn't have any energy to be bothered. It was already midnight, and Huntrix was making their comeback song “TakeDown” for the idol awards. A long day being a dog, to be honest. At least Romance came by then and there; honestly, his timing is really meaningful to you, obviously. He's a weird demon or whatnot; what feelings does he have?

Romance gave that same earnest gaze along with that bitchboy smirk, “Don’t act like you enjoy it—“

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t Romance.”

“Oh yeah?” He took his place beside you, having his elbow rest on the railing whilst the other hand cupped his cheek, hunching his back a bit to your height, looking down. “Then why did you even notice me in the first place?”

A scoff leaves your mouth, “Who the hell wouldn’t notice a tall ass pink heart shaped hair climbing onto my damn balcony?” Romance couldn't help but let out a laugh seeing how pent up you had gotten. He was the ‘playboy’ in the Saja Boys, but that didn't stop him from being a damn heartthrob who noticed even the littlest things. That charm of his grabbed you, and he knew it.

“What's so funny?” You gave him a sideways glance, “You, getting so worked up.” Your entire head was facing him with your face getting more of a scowl in annoyance, “How does Jinu even handle you..”

In response, Romance dramatically tugged on his shirt, his hand on his heart and a grunt in pain, “Mentioning another man when I'm here… ack—!” Followed by that adoring smile his fans go ballistic for, “Y/N!”

Rolling your eyes, a staggering smile threatening to appear on your lips. You nudged him a bit by your elbow near his ribs, “Shut it, you sound like a damn rat dog.”

“RAT DOG?!”

Romance made even more grunting in comical pain, intentionally making it louder for the trio to hear him. In a haste you snapped your head to your room door and back to him. What if they heard? “Aii! Okay okay..” She placed her hand now on his forearm. “A— uh.. Pomeranian dog okay? Happy?” He bent down a bit more to meet her eyes. “Happy.” The sudden closure brought both of you to an airtight silence, feeling the rise in warming tension between the two, face to face. It stayed like that for a while, with not many words or bickering said but a lot more meaningful intent. This thing you and him had going on… this fling – who knows what can happen to them? A mouthy ‘why’ tried to escape your mouth but was immediately greeted by Romance having another hearing of Gwi-Ma's malicious announces.

Already weakening his knees, he was forced to buckle down onto the floor whilst his hands hastily made their way to his ears. Trying to block out any sound or just Gwi-Ma's voice in general. Moments like these made you question if all demons were truly wicked. You didn't have the slightest clue what to do, but you went through it, kneeling down to his height. Taking in what was going on, you knew it was Gwi-Ma's daily threats he told you about, seeing how he blocked his ears, his eyes trembling, sweat running down and, most importantly, his demon marks showing through. You never had any of these Gwi-Ma stuff for whatever reason, but the least you could really do is comfort the poor gu— demon.

Your hand made its way to his back; at first he flinched away slightly but soon realised that your hand made gentle pats. Soothing your hand up and down his back with small pats filled with genuine worry, soft enough to not throw him off yet enough to signal him you’re here. “Aii rat dog, I'm here, okay?” With a small smile, you jokingly cooed to him, just trying to get his mind out of the gutters in Gwi-Ma's constant threats. What if some demons aren't that bad? Your doubt with Celine's life teachings against demons only grew the more you saw Romance in pain.

He flashed a quick smile hearing what you called him again, giving a weakened expression, one that was vulnerable. Nevertheless, only you saw the one he felt most comfortable with. “Seriously? Is 'rat dog' going to be my new nickname or what?” The snigger left before you could even reply, giving out a smile that was once hidden with others. Even your own sister. “It suits you.” However, despite the sniggers that escaped, you felt his eyes only on you. He didn't laugh with you; he followed you with that adoring gaze yet again, only smiling in response, admiring your raw self.

“Whatt?” You asked as you calmed down from the high in the joke, your smile still in contact. A small “hm” noise when she tilted her head left and right, patting her hand on his back more. “Romance?”

“Cute.”

“Eh?”

“Sometimes you can be adorable, Y/N, even when I get under your ski—.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A snap back to reality caused you to shoot up from the floor; the beaten red look on your cheeks went against you. Hitting him multiple times on the shoulder, causing him to go, “Ah! What the hell?!” You quickly dragged Romance up on his feet and pushed him into your room. “Yah! Y/N? She's going to see me, dumbass; I'm too big-!” He retaliated against you trying to keep himself outside of the closet. You gritted your teeth, “Shut up and get in the damn closet!” In one big push you managed to shove him into your closet. Whilst being practically plunged into the closet, he put his hand on top of his heart-shaped hair and yelled in a long whisper, “No, my hairr..!”

Thud.

Knock, knock, knocₖₖₖₖₖ

“I’m coming!” You yelled out at the continuous knocking, Who the hell was it? Looking around your room for any hints that Romance, who is literally here, left to indicate his presence. Why? Well, I don't know. Maybe because Huntrix HATED him and his group's guts? You didn't see any signals that would suggest Romance being here, so in a swift gallop skip, you opened the door to see the three: Rumi, Mira, and Zoey.

“What took you so longg?” Zoey asked in her high-pitched tone, draping her arm around your shoulder whilst Mira walked inside, no questions asked, “Took you long enough; the hell were you doing?”

“Oh, me? “Uh...” you quickly retorted in a giggle whilst scratching the side of your neck, letting out a believable yawn, “I was trying to sleep.” Zoey, Mira and you were already up to the shenanigans before Rumi walked in. “We need to talk.” Everyone's head snapped to Rumi with a curious yet nervous look. “Together. All of us.” This made your personal nerves even more tense knowing that Romance was in your closet doing God knows what.. probably worrying for his hair like usual. However, it wasn't just that; it was the look on Rumi's face. A look that she was familiar with whenever something happened with guilt.

Rumi sat everyone down in the living room, —Zoey on the singular rounded chair, Mira cross-legged beside me, and Rumi leg crossed in the centre. An uneasy feeling was known for a bit which didn't stop you from glancing at your bedroom door, worried for that pinky who was in your closet still. Hopefully. Ugh..you prayed to whatever god up there that he wasn’t snooping about and just stayed in your room like a good dog. Ironic.

Rumi took a deep breath and looked at everyone, “I know we don’t keep secrets between each other.” She startled you, thinking it was about time that Zoey and Mira knew about the half-demon breed you and Rumi are. But as soon as you heard the name, ‘Jinu’ you leaned back on the couch and exhaled, knowing where this one was going. It was obvious – maybe not to Zoey or Mira, but to you it was your sisters at the end of the day. Nothing can go unnoticed between the two… That being said, did Rumi know about your fling with Romance? You shook your head slightly, knowing you had to focus on what Rumi had to say.

Zoey and Mira were almost at the edge of their seats as soon as Rumi brought up Jinu. Zoey, of course, was giggling her ass off, whilst Mira had a weirded-out expression. “So.. I and Jinu have been talking…” Zoey was the one to scream first, “Talking as in how?!” Rumi couldn't keep her eyes on us. Keeping her hand grasped onto her forearm in embarrassment, she finally awkwardly responded, “I think we all know.. how..”

“Rumi, you were the one who told us not to get close with them.”

“I know..”

“Rumi, what's going to happen?”

“I don’t know.. but we’re trying to figure it out.”

“What about Gwi-Ma?” Your arms were crossed and dead set on Rumi. The only reason why you were serious in this question was because of.. Romance. What if there was a world where manipulated demons could live by with humans? Hunters? Why the hell did you care either way, let alone for Romance, its a damn fling. The three ladies had turned their eyes onto you, whilst Rumis widened slightly, “That.. we don’t know… It's only based on a theory.”

“Which is?”

“If we seal the honmoon before Gwi-Ma can even get fed more soul, the weaker he gets, right?” We all nod.

“No souls being fed is equal to no Gwi-Ma; he wouldn't be powerful enough.” Rumi kept doting on either of us as she explained the theory, “Don’t forget that the honmoon will seal the demons out for good, the demons alongside Gwi-Ma himself.”

“If, in some miracle, Jinu and probably the other Saja Boys don’t get into that sealing process, then maybe… just maybe they can get a second chance, a second life here… away from Gwi-Ma's torturous attacks.”

It was silent. Piercingly silent. You, Zoey and Mira were processing what the hell Rumi's theory was going on about. To be honest, in her case, it was making sense, and it did line up perfectly, but... where's the evidence? What happens if-

“What happens if it doesn’t work, Rumi?” Ah, Mira already caught you to the chase. “It will work, Mira. If we could tell Celine this and what she's told me beforehand, it will wor—“

“She told you stuff…?” Mira focused on that part. Shit. You already knew what Rumi was going on about, but these two don't know. You looked at Rumi in urgency as her own eyes flickered to yours in a second. “Celines told us about the honmoon no?” You chimed in, trying to save Rumi out of the corner, “She’s made it clear if the honmoon is sealed, the demons within that seal are gone for good. We never knew Gwi-Ma would even think to make a demon boy band and allow them to roam freely in the human world.” After my saving, Rumi could finally breathe, seeing Zoey and Mira buy into it. I gave a quick smile and half-hidden thumbs up to Rumi, in which she smiled back gratefully. It did make sense what I said. Its just.. the risk behind it.

“Would the Saja Boys even agree with this?” Zoey asked, already Googling, on the fact that she could keep that purple-haired, face-covered strange guy, Mystery. It made you laugh seeing Zoey always admiring mystery even though she denies all claims so freely. A tug on the dumbbells latched on your heart each time she did, though. Supposing that could be Romance and you… even if it was a fling or just interest.

“We can convince them!” Rumi declared loudly when Mira just smirked like she was the devil herself, cracking her knuckles, “If they do anything funny, I swear I’ll kill them all.”

Amidst everything going down and between the exchanged laughs and perseverance in comedic speeches about the Saja Boys, you noticed something off. At the edge of your vision, you spotted your bedroom door opened ajar. It dawned on you the possibility that Romance had heard everything; how much did he hear?

[elitadream]

In wich Obelix experiences a week in the village without Asterix's supervision and understands why his little bro is so stressed all the time. 💀

Pianokantzart and Istadris have been COOKING with this concept lately and I couldn't resist the urge to draw a small scene for it. 😂 Enjoy!

[g1rld1ary]

let things go - ex!james potter x reader (kind of)

wc: 4455

summary: cleaning out your apartment so your boyfriend can move in, you come across a box of mementos and discover you're maybe not as over your ex as you thought | angst, swearing, problematic boyfriend (not james), a bit of misogyny, lots of flashbacks, modern!magic!AU

me: this is maybe the angstiest fic i've ever written and i'm sorry that present james isnt in it, but i do have ideas for where his story could go, so if people like this i'm open to writing a second part! based off the song let things go from ordinary days!!

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You stared around your apartment, hands on your hips as you mentally prepared to make it your bitch. With Britney Spears’ Circus album playing and garbage bags at your disposal, you were sure you were ready.

You wondered how you could’ve ever considered the place not big enough for all your belongings, grimacing as you imagined the bomb-site it would soon become. But that’s why you were cleaning, right? For the greater good, because you deserve to live in a place not cluttered by trinkets and things stuffed in places they don’t belong. Or maybe because you’re boyfriend had decided he was moving in. Who could say, really?

You flung open a closet door, unimpressed at the mass of clothes seemingly defying physics to stay off the floor. My life has to be more than the sum of this… stuff you thought to yourself, turning your back on that. The closet was scaring you too much to start, you should pick something easier. You looked up at the bookshelf, teeming with novels you’d long since loved, and told yourself to grow up. Today was the day you started cleaning things out. Today was the day you’d start letting things go.

Hours later, you’d made a start and not much else. You stood in the centre of your bedroom, your whole entire history strewn across the floor. Fetched from a box deep in the back of your closet, a treasure trove of trinkets lay in front of you as you decided what you had to get rid of. Years-old planners, dog-eared postcards. Why was I even keeping these? You asked yourself, laughing at the ridiculous thought of you even holding onto frivolous mementos all these years.

But then you shot yourself in the foot. You almost saw it from an outside perspective, bending down, fingers dusting lightly over the various souvenirs until they curled around the planner, decorated with stickers and photos taped to the front. You recognised it immediately, the planner you had for seventh year.

Your stomach dropped as the memories smacked you in the face and you were on the floor before you knew it, furiously thumbing through the pages.

september 1st - first day of seventh year!

september 27th - hogsmeade date with james <3

october 5th - study with james 4pm

october 31st - halloween! common room party 8pm: make sure james’ costume is ready!!!!

november 23rd - sirius’ birthday party 8:30pm

december 25th - christmas at the potters! make sure gifts are here for effy and monty

january 1 - new years day!! to do: kiss jamie <3

february 14th - valentines day! date with james 7pm

april 9th - easter lunch with the potters

may 29th - graduate from hogwarts!! to do: start life with jamie

A year full of James; one of six knowing him in Hogwarts, one of four that you dated. Every other day had something involving James — help him with his essay, going to Hogsmeade with him, kiss him silly (god bless teenage hormones and being in love, why were you writing that in your academic planner?). Every new page and task brought back memory after memory of James and his dumb smile and your stupid dates and the whole relationship you thought would never end.

You snapped back into your real life, forcibly ignoring the water collecting at your lash line. You were fine, everything was fine. Your eyes strayed to a postcard, paper edges fraying and wearing thin from the amount of time you’d obviously spent re-reading and admiring it.

The design on the postcard was cute and kitschy, a vintage style beach picture with a sun lounger and palm tree. You remembered it instantly, receiving it in the post over the summer between your sixth and seventh year. You flipped it over with trembling hands, the familiar chicken scratch scrawl bringing a small smile to your face.

Hey lovie,

I am in Nice! We got in late last night and I’ve been exploring all day — remind me to show you the photos when I get back because it’s so beautiful here. We should come back here together next year.

Anyway, I’ve been walking around town and this older man asked if I fancied a shag — fancy that! I said no, thank you, I’m actually married, just to see how it felt (very good). I can’t wait to marry you when we’re older, gorgeous.

Mum and Dad are absolutely thrilled to be by the beach — I think they’ll be prunes by the time we get back to England! Will send you photos to laugh at in the next letter.

I love you!

James Potter (your future husband)

You sat for a minute, the postcard crumpling slightly from the tension between your fingers. Then, in a flash, you slammed the postcard down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling to stop yourself from crying.

You stashed the belongings back in the box, unwilling to look at them anymore but unable to throw them away. You just couldn’t get rid of all those memories. Still, you needed to clear out some room for Adam’s things, so you tentatively labelled the box ‘maybe’ to pretend you were considering getting rid of it all.

You exhaled emphatically, convincing yourself to think it over and throw it all out at the end of the day. Just after you did the rest of the room.

Things only got worse from there. You’d never thought of yourself as a hoarder of the past, but as soon as you were looking around your flat, you discovered decorative or sentimental items displayed on every surface, hidden in every drawer and cupboard. Birthday cards from years gone by, plastic souvenirs from monuments you’d travelled to, a pamphlet on Van Gogh from when your friend group went to France and wandered around the d’Orsay making fun of the paintings.

You shook your head, physically manifesting the negative thoughts leaving your head. You needed to clean all this shit out! You should’ve done it years ago.

But then you picked up a framed photo — the one that always seemed to fall face down whenever your boyfriend came around. It was your graduation photo, all your friends crammed in like sardines to fit in the shot. You were pressed into James’ side, his strong athlete’s arm wrapped snugly around you. Nothing else about the picture indicated you were a couple, which was how you rationalised keeping it up, but holding it now, you could feel all the memories rushing back to you like it had happened yesterday. The soft breeze, the smell of daisies from the grounds, your friends' beams, the feeling of James’ hands around you.

You could feel the sensation like it was current, but it all seemed like lifetimes ago. You’d seen James maybe once since your breakup, purely by accident, and it was like ripping your heart out all over again, like you were freshly eighteen and experiencing the first heartbreak of your life.

And to be honest, you could hardly remember the last time you’d even seen the rest of your friends. There was no picking sides, no ferocity or anger, but somewhere along the way, they’d faded from your life, much to your regret. Now, you spent most of your time with Adam. And Adam’s friends. Which was great.

Suddenly, you realised how much your life had changed. How much you’d changed. Adam didn’t even know you were a witch, for God’s sake!

Suddenly, the pictures weren’t just pictures, and souvenirs weren’t just hunks of plastic; they were proof that this life was yours — even if you hadn’t been living it for years. And you couldn’t let that go, you couldn’t dispose of the identity you’d just realised you’d lost. So back the trinkets went, returned to surfaces and shelves in pride of place. Small reminders that you were still who you always had been, even if you didn’t feel like it.

How did it happen? You’d torn up your apartment just to decide you couldn’t get rid of anything, painstakingly returning everything to its place.

Fuck! Adam. Adam still needed to move in —well, he still wanted to move in. So you still needed to find some room for his things. But surely he’d be fine? You could get creative, maybe move some of your mementos from out of the closet and into one of the cabinets in the hallway where Adam would never look, so you didn’t have to get rid of any of it. Or maybe some of your things could be stuffed into the spelled secret crevice where you kept your wand stashed whenever he came around.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Adam would be over in fifteen minutes. Everything needed to go back in its place before he arrived, or all hell would break loose.

It was a known fact to you that Adam was jealous of James, even now. You’d met whilst the two of you were still dating, and Adam had, both before and after, always made comments about how you weren’t right for each other. It had irked you a bit whilst you and James were together, but then again, he was right, so… The point was, if Adam knew you were keeping all of these mementos that involved James, he’d flip.

Half an hour later, Adam arrived.

“Hey, Babe,” He unlocked the door with the key you’d given him free access to a few weeks ago, “Turn that shit off, it’s trashy.” He followed the statement with a kiss, which confused your senses. You nonetheless got up to switch off the music, changing it to an album you knew you could both enjoy, something he’d introduced you to.

“So did you clean out some of your stuff?” He fell onto the couch next to you, reaching to turn on the television. You watched him reach for the remote, sighing as you turned off the music.

“Uh, kind of,” You hesitated, searching for the right words, “I moved some things around. I’ll still have to do some work on it, but I’m sure we’ll have space!”

“Babe,” He groaned, putting an arm around the back of the couch, sitting just disconnected from your skin. “I’m moving in in a few weeks, we’ve gotta get this stuff ready. I know you’re a ‘feeler’, but it’s just stuff, you have to make compromises for me.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” You shifted in your seat, eyes glued to the television screen where Adam was clicking through programs, “It’s all just got sentimental value to me. It’s hard to get rid of any of it. But I’ll try, I promise.”

“What about I just do it? I’m sure I can put a bunch of papers and plastic snow globes in the bin.”

“No!” You said, too fast. “It’s okay, I’ll have another try and be stricter with myself. It’s just the first time I’ve looked at any of this stuff in a while. Memories, you know?”

“I get it, Babe, but we have new memories now. And we’ll make more. You don’t need a shitty hunk of plastic from eight years ago.” You made a noise of agreement, not wanting to get into any more detail about what the ‘hunks of plastic’ really were.

After the talks of moving in and cleaning out moved on, your night really was nice. Adam helped you cook some dinner, and you turned on a film he’d been talking about for a few weeks, but something still felt wrong.

You could tell Adam expected to stay over, a fair assumption, and was being touchy enough that you knew what he wanted. To your own dismay, your body was rejecting his advances, knee twitching when he laid his hand on it, subconsciously leaning away when he cuddled in or nuzzled into your neck. You didn’t want to, but everything felt wrong in the moment.

“Hey, um, I think I’m getting my period or something, my stomach feels really weird. Do you mind if we call it here?” It was a cheap shot, you knew, but also not necessarily a lie — your stomach was feeling queasy.

Adam looked at you for a minute, and you weren’t sure if his knitted brows were for concern, confusion or judgment. Probably all three.

“Sure, I guess. Do you need, like, a hot water bottle or something?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take a painkiller and see if it gets worse. Thanks, though.”

You accompanied him to the door, apologising again softly as he pulled on his shoes.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you soon. Love you,” He said, crossing the boundary outside of your flat. You hummed in agreement, leaning up to press a kiss on his lips.

“Bye,” You murmured, shutting the door softly as he took off. You leant against the door, a sigh escaping you.

You suddenly felt like you were in a video game, anything from your life before Adam illuminating in a glow, calling your attention to them. You stumbled through the apartment, buzzing from photo to souvenir to memento in a haze of memories.

It all came to a head in your bedroom, a box half full of things that didn’t fit in other places still sitting in the middle of the room. You sank to your knees, unable to stop yourself from immersing yourself in the years of memories you were unlocking.

You felt like you were waking up from a dream, a whole reality fading in and out of existence, the pathways of your life splintering as you looked back on where they all diverged. At what point did you make the decision that put you on this specific path? Was it worth it?

You picked up a folded paper flower from out of the box, being taken back to the day you received it.

It was the winter of fourth year, just after the Christmas holidays. The grounds of Hogwarts were covered in a blanket of crisp snow, something that most students found beautiful and calming, but you thought it was isolating, suffocating.

“What’s up, grump?” James approached your spot in the bay window of the library, staring vacantly out at the pristine white grounds. You looked up in surprise, a small smile gracing your lips.

“Just putting off my charms essay, waiting for spring to come,” You sighed. This wasn’t a new problem; all of your friends were well aware of your aversion to winter, but it didn’t mean it ever got better.

“Right,” James laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, “Well, I, uh, made this to help you feel better?” It came out as way more of a question than he obviously intended, causing a rosy blush on his cheeks as he revealed a paper folded flower from behind his back.

“Potter? What is this?” You asked in delight, reaching out with delicate fingers to cradle the flower in your hands.

“My mum taught me how to make them over the holidays. I thought it’d make you happy over the winter ‘cause they won’t die.” You beamed, looking up at James with bright eyes.

“That is so cute! Thank you, James.” You went to turn back to the window, thinking the conversation was over, when James cleared his throat awkwardly.

“This might be weird or whatever, so, like, don’t even worry, but would you maybe want to go to Hogsmeade with me next time?”

“Aren’t we all going together in a few weeks?” You asked casually, not fully catching on to what James meant.

“Um, yeah, but I meant just the two of us? Like a date?” James was looking anywhere but at you, a stark difference from his usual cocky, borderline obnoxious demeanour.

“Oh!” You broke out into a wide smile, nodding before you could even get the words out, “Yeah, I’d really like that!”

“Cool,” James replied, sporting his own dorky grin. “Awesome. Amazing! Can’t wait.”

“Yeah,” You agreed, a little awkward but excited nonetheless.

“Yeah.” You and James stared at each other for a moment, unsure of where to go from there. “I’ll see you at dinner then!” He waved quickly, practically leaving a trail of smoke behind him.

You watched him go, a smile still lingering on your lips. James Potter just asked you out on a date! Fancy that!

You and James had dated for the second half of fourth year, fifth through seventh year, and made it eight months after you graduated. That was a significant period of your life, pretty much all of your adolescent memories were inseparably associated with James. You put down the flower, carefully preserving it amongst the other items.

You felt a bit like a madwoman, throwing your things across the floor, jumping from memory to memory like you were a starving man coming across food for the first time.

Even the clip in your hair was a gift from him, coincidentally, the same night you met Adam for the first time.

“Here, lovie, got you a clip so you don’t have to have it in your eyes while you’re dancing.” James approached you from behind, offering you the claw clip before wrapping his arms around your middle, smoothly joining in the group’s conversation.

“Is that where you went?” You asked with a happy gasp, reaching around James to quickly put your hair up. You’d been complaining for the last hour since your group had started dancing as opposed to sitting and chatting, your outfit not quite prepared for the occasion.

“Prongs is so pussy-whipped he went to a chemist for a clip on a night out,” Sirius barked out a laugh to Remus, who just rolled his eyes with a smile.

“Forgive me for loving my beautiful girlfriend?” James asked with a spoonful of sass, placing a kiss on your cheek.

An hour later, you were dancing with the girls, carefree as you threw your arms around in the air. Lily nudged you at one point, gesturing just beyond where the boys were crowding near the bar to where another man was watching you. It wasn’t necessarily intimidating or threatening, but you were unused to attention after being so associated with your relationship for so many years. You accidentally made eye contact with him, sparing him a half smile, unsure of what the proper protocol was.

You’d long forgotten about the man once a Kesha song came on, getting lost in the music with your friends.

About an hour later, you were slowly making your way up to the bar for another drink when the man returned, approaching you with a charming smile.

“Hi, I’m Adam. You’re stunning,” He said, taking you aback with his directness.

“Oh, uh, hi. Nice to meet you,” You introduced yourself, strangely reserved.

“Are you here by yourself?” Adam asked, subtly shuffling closer. You leant back, shaking your head.

“No, I’m here with some friends. And that’s my boyfriend over there.” You pointed James out as he laughed at something Marlene said.

“That guy? No way.” Adam shook his head confidently, laughing in a way that had you a little confused. What was funny about that? When you voiced that thought, he tried to soften his statement, backpedalling a little in a way that amused you. “Sorry, it’s just… You are way out of his league. I mean that guy? He looks like every typical high school film jock who has muscles for brains. Like, does he have independent thought skills?” He said it like a joke, but you weren’t sure it was funny.

“James is really smart, actually. Always got top grades in school,” You replied, voice soft but determined.

“Oh, you guys went to school together? High school sweethearts?” Adam had totally changed his tune, maybe because he could see that you didn’t think insulting your boyfriend was entertaining. Still, you nodded brightly, choosing to believe the best in him.

“Yeah, we’ve been dating since I was fourteen! We’re going on four years.” You glowed with pride, eyes straying over to James, who was starting to notice where you were.

“So you’re fresh out of school, huh?” You nodded slowly, suddenly aware that he could be decades older than you. Well, maybe you were being a little dramatic.

“How old are you?” Adam was twenty-four, as he told you, which did surprise you slightly, though you tried not to let it show. In the real world, that’s not crazy, right? Maybe you were still adjusting to being out of Hogwarts.

“Hi, lovely, who are you talking to?” James approached you both, his hand snaking around your waist.

“This is Adam. We were just chatting.”

“Hey, mate.” They exchanged identical greetings, a strange tension growing.

“Your girlfriend’s just been raving about how great you are, mate. You’re a very lucky man.”

“I know,” James said, jaw tensing in a way that was equal parts concerning and sexy.

“Well, it was nice meeting you!” You chirped, pulling away to end the conversation now that James was beside you.

“Yeah, you too, honey. I hope we meet again soon.” You nodded after a slight pause, waving politely as James led you back to your comfort zone and your friends.

“Well, who knew little miss wifed-up still had it?” Remus laughed, giving you an impressed nod.

“Hey, I thought we all knew I was gorgeous,” You joked, tossing your hair dramatically, “But seriously, if I have it, I do not want it.”

It wasn’t until later that you’d met Adam again and struck up a friendship which eventually evolved into a relationship, beginning to bond right before the start of the demise of your and James’ relationship.

God, you felt like your world was beginning to crash down around you, memories you’d had locked away for years resurfacing the second you laid eyes on a corresponding memento.

Everything was too suffocating; you needed to get out. Stumbling around your room, you pulled on some outside clothes, lacing up your shoes as you hopped down the entryway.

Walking down the street, you immediately felt a bit calmer, the crisp air sending shocks through your system and bringing you back down to earth.

With a little more sense in your head, the reality of your feelings began to set in. Regardless of how satisfied you were with your current life, which was something you were simultaneously beginning to reconsider, you missed your old life. In particular, you missed your friends.

Though James was obviously a massive part of your life and dominated most of the souvenirs you’d held onto, you’d had the same friendship group for six years of school. They rounded out every memory, filled the time between classes at school, and helped shape you into who you’d become as you grew into adulthood.

And somehow, somewhere along the way, you’d lost contact with them. Obviously, you hadn’t caught up with James since the breakup (with the exception of the single most awkward interaction of your life) because you were so heartbroken and shattered, but you’d tried not to let it impact your friendships.

Sirius was the first to go, of course, just because he was so close to James, and the other boys followed not too long after, torn between the rift. The girls held on for a bit longer, and you would tentatively say you were still friends today, but the intervals between your catch-ups got longer and longer each time. No bitterness, at least on your part, but you were all busy leading different lives.

Suddenly, it clicked how long it really had been since you’d seen your friends, and how it had steadily declined ever since Adam. Maybe it was just because you were already emotionally distraught, but doubts began to creep in about Adam. The way he’d behaved even before your breakup, his refusal to hang out with your friends after, and insisting you hang out with his friends all the time despite them not really liking you. It felt like something was beginning to add up, but you weren’t sure how to finish the equation.

With shaking hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, searching through your contacts for a number you hadn’t called in far too long.

“Hello?” The voice on the other side asked, gentle confusion evident.

“Lily?” You asked, voice wavering as relief washed over you at the familiarity.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong?” Lily asked immediately, the intricacies of your speech pattern coming back to her in an instant.

“Are you free to talk for a bit?”

“Um, yeah, of course! Remus is with me right now. Do you want to be on speaker? Or I can go into a different room.” You said it was fine, the desire to hear his voice overpowering in your heart.

“Hi, dove. Been a while,” He said softly, and you could see the expression he was making despite it being a voice call.

“Yeah, sorry,” You choked out, tears beginning to spill again. Without further ado, you began to spill everything. All of the conflicting thoughts and feelings that had stirred within you in the span of a single day. You told them about Adam rushing you to let him move in before you were maybe ready (you’d never said that out loud before), finding the box of memories you’d forgotten had even existed, and the deep, deep longing for the past you’d felt ever since.

When you were finally finished you’d cried out all the water left in your body, but you felt monumentally lighter, even if it was just because Lily and Remus at least knew how much you loved and missed them.

As you began to trail off, worries less prominent, your friends sat in silence on the other side of the line.

“Do you think I’m broken?” You asked, voice ragged from your monologue and the accompanying tears.

“I think,” Lily said, “You need to come over tonight.”

part 2

[clairewritesfanfics]

A-Z Fluff Alphabet: Omni Mark Grayson

author’s note: The alphabet here is an amalgamation of fluff templates from the following writers: @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @snk-warrior, @queervibesmydude and @imagineimagineimagine, and my own personal additions.

Adoration: What does he can’t help but gush about you? 

Your eyes that see his most pathetic sides and still shine with pure affection. Eyes that trust and love him wholeheartedly.

Baby: Does he want a family? 

Maybe. His dad screwed him up so badly he couldn’t even picture himself with a romantic partner, let alone raising children. But having you in his life means he’s doing better.

Comfort: How does he help you when you’re down or stressed?

He knows you’ll talk when you’re ready, so he will simply brew your favorite beverage and set up a nest for you in front of the TV. All your favorite shows and movies and podcasts are already queued in. 

Dates: What are his ideal dates?

Quiet, classy and low-key. His favorite is an evening meal at a fancy restaurant, no fuss, there is just you and him enjoying each other’s company. 

Everything: You are his __________.

You are his peace, his quiet in the storm. When the whole world is falling apart and the noise is too much, he finds solace just by being in the same room as you. 

Fight: How often do you argue? How does he handle the fight itself and its aftermath?

Not a lot, not even jokingly. He tends to give way to your desires, simply because your happiness is his happiness. The only times he gets angry is when you do something reckless, like not sleeping enough or overeating junk food. He loves you, he wants you to live a long life, so please take care of yourself. 

Gifts: Does he spoil you?

Yes. He has a lot of money and barely has any use for it. He’s not the type to buy you random trinkets though, his gifts are more in line with giant bouquets from Japan and wine from France.

Honesty: Does he keep a lot of secrets from you? Are they white lies or do they hide world-shattering truths?

He likes to keep his professional and private lives separate, so there is information that he won’t share with you. He’s also the type of person who prefers to keep his problems to himself, because that’s what “men do,” but after discussing it with you he’s trying to open up more.

Injury: What’s his reaction when he finds you physically hurt?

He keeps his composure long enough to get you the medical attention you need while his mind pieces together what happens. If it was a genuine accident, and you beg him to let it go, then fine, he will. But if it was intentional? No hesitation, no monologuing–that person is dead.

Jealousy: Is he a green-eyed monster?

He’s mature in many ways, but not when it comes to this. He gets moody when you start talking about anyone for too long. 

Kiss: Describe the way he kisses you.

Cradles your face between his palms while he steals your breath away. 

Longing: Who fell first? How did you two get together?

He’s tall, dark, handsome; has that brooding and mysterious vibe down pat–of course, you fell first. But he fell harder. 

Marriage: Does he want to be your husband?

Naturally. Some people think that marriage is just a piece of paper, but for him, it’s another way to bind you to his side.

Nightmare: What is his greatest fear?

Your inevitable death. His kind can live eternities, yet cursed with a heart that can love transient things.

On Cloud Nine: Is it obvious to tell when he is happy?

For outsiders? No. Not even a little bit. The man has the poker face. Everyone is baffled when you tell them that “of course, he’s happy, can’t you tell from his smile?” while gesturing at his hard expression.

PDA: Yes or no? If yes, to what degree?

No. He won’t be opposed to a quick peck on the cheek or lips, but he isn’t a hand holder and definitely not the type to wrap himself around you while in public.

Quirk: What is a habit, skill or interest of his that surprises people?

He has a sweet tooth and his favorite dessert is sakura mochi, a Japanese rice cake with a red bean paste filling. He doesn’t like black coffee. He has no problem with matcha though, maybe because it tastes great with the mochi. 

Rhythm: What’s his favorite song or genre of music?

It’s rock music or nothing else.

Spa: What helps him relax?

When he is off work, he is off work. The only reason he would fight a supervillain or mediate a natural disaster is because it's actively terrorizing the area surrounding you.

Thrill: Do you two try out new things to give spice to the relationship? Or do you stick to your routine?

You’re predictable to each other, which he adores. You buy him a second bottle of hair gel without him even asking and at restaurants, he orders for you because you trust that he knows what you like. His work gives him a lot of surprises already, he doesn’t need any more excitement than that. 

Upset: What is he like when he is in a bad mood?

Even more reserved than usual. He answers in grunts and has a hard time keeping eye contact. When he’s in a really bad mood then he will leave to cool down, not for too long, because then you’ll get sad.

Value: How important is the relationship to him?

So much that he cannot picture a life without you in it. 

Wild Card: Random fluff headcanon

He will not leave for work unless you kiss him. 

XOXO: How affectionate is he?

A lot, just not in a physical or verbal sense. He never forgets anniversaries and other special dates, he never misses appointments with you, and he cleans up around the house when he notices that you’re tired.

Yearning: How does he cope when you two are apart?

He despises overtime. He’s no early bird either–he’s one of those control freaks who arrives exactly as agreed upon; if you tell him that a meeting starts at 8:00, he will arrive at 8:00, not 7:59, not 8:01, but 8:00 sharp. He wasn’t always this strict with his schedule, after all, for someone like him, time was endless. But he has you now, and it feels like he has so little time.

Zebra: If he wanted a pet, what would he get?

When he was younger–as in, half his current height younger–he found a bird in the front yard. It was a release dove, so it wasn’t afraid of him, it trusted Mark enough to let him pet its head. It was Mark’s first and only friend. But one day, after school, it was gone from its clumsily made birdhouse. That evening, his parents had beef, Mark had poultry. Nolan forced him to finish everything. To this day, Mark can’t even stand the smell of fried chicken.

MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

Other Fluff Alphabet for Mark Grayson Variants:

Mohawk Prisoner

[halemerry]

I just need to hear Crowley call Aziraphale Supreme Archangel like it's a curse so I can be properly emotionally devastated the first time he calls him Angel again.

[yelenasburnbook]

Short Circuit

Pairing: Bob Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bob helps Y/N train to control her powers under pressure. But when frustration gets the better of her, their sparring session turns tense.

Reader’s Abilities: Electrokinesis, Telekinesis (not really mentioned here though), and Flight

Warnings: Mild angst, accidental electrical discharge, brief loss of control (non-lethal), combat training.

Please let me know if I have missed anything.

A/N: I wrote this so it takes place a few years after the Thunderbolts takes place, where Bob has a much better control over his powers and void (I will touch on his journey in some one-shots as well). Y/N has been a part of the team for a while, but struggles to control what she can do.

—————————————————

There was a hum of energy buzzing faintly in the training room of the avengers tower, dancing off the reinforced walls like static. The center mat had been cleared, the lights dimmed, and two figures stood, facing one another under the glow of the overhead panel.

Bob cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck, almost cocky looking, “Alright, sweetheart. Hit me.”

Y/N squinted at him, hiding the lilt of annoyance in her voice, “Just… hit you? You’re not even going to block?”

He smiled. It was patient. Infuriating.

“Don’t need to. This is about control, not damage.”

She exhaled slowly, raising her hands. Pale blue sparks flickered in her palms, licking at her fingers as she summoned a burst of energy

———

From the overhead walkway, Yelena was leaned over the railing, watching with interest. Bucky stood beside her, arms crossed. He was silent and stoic as per usual, but observant.

It was him who had suggested this training session. After the last mission had almost blown up in their faces, due to Y/N’s loss of control when she was overwhelmed by enemy agents, he needed to find a way to keep it from happening again. Her aim had suffered, she had gotten cornered, and Ava almost lost a limb in an effort to rescue her.

Bob was a bit reluctant at first, knowing Y/N already wasn’t proud of what had happened. He wasn’t sure that having her own boyfriend critiquing and correcting her would help.

But Bucky was insistent, considering he was the only other member of the team with any sort of powers. It also helped that once upon a time, he struggled to control his own abilities and emotions too.

With a sigh and a mumbled, “You’re paying for our couples therapy,” he reluctantly agreed.

They watched as she fired a few rounds of electric blasts at Bob, very obviously holding herself back a little.

“She’s getting better,” Yelena murmured, “But she’s tense.”

“She’s always tense when it’s him,” Bucky replied.

———

Below, Y/N was focused, her eyes locked on Bob’s chest. She extended one palm, fingers shaking slightly, and fired another tight bolt of energy. It hit his shoulder and dispersed harmlessly across his skin.

“Good,” Bob said, his tone gentle, “But you hesitated. Again.”

She huffed, “Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Bob gave her a look, “You can’t-” Y/N cut him off, annoyance layered thick in her voice.

“Yes I know. I can’t hurt you because you’re ’Invincible’ or whatever,” her voice was almost mocking, and it didn’t go unnoticed by her boyfriend, “But you never actually know, so please just humor me.”

He took a slow step forward, keeping his patience as he spoke, “You wanna know what could actually hurt me?” His voice wasn’t cold, but it was stern.

At that moment, Y/N couldn’t really tell the difference.

“If you hesitate or lose control out there again? And a situation that you’re fully capable of handling goes haywire? That would hurt me. Because god only knows what could happen to you next time.” There was a softness behind his eyes.

And enough shame behind Y/N’s for her to not notice.

“So please humor me, and stop hesitating.”

She clenched her jaw, and lifted both hands this time, “Fine.”

Six quick pulses fired from her palms, more powerful than what she had released before. It was the kind of power she would use on enemies. The kind that could flip a vehicle. Four of them missed, only two of them hitting Bob.

He didn’t move, let alone flinch. Frustration burned hot in her throat.

“Y/N,” Bob said quietly, “You’re overthinking it. Feel it. Trust yourself.”

She shot him a look. “Easy for you to say, Mr. Invincible.”

His expression hardened a bit, “You don’t have to be invincible to be in control.”

———

From above, Yelena whispered, “She’s about to snap.”

Bucky just nodded.

———

Y/N released another blast, bigger than the ones before, this one only catching him in the shoulder, and she watched as his body just absorbed it.

She didn’t know what was more frustrating, the fact that she could barely hit an unmoving target, or that any time she did hit him, he took it like it was just a light breeze.

It made her feel weak. It made her feel angry.

“You’re just standing there,” she muttered, electricity building like pressure behind her ribs, “You’re not even trying. You’re not trying and I’m still failing—”

“You’re not failing,” Bob interrupted, stepping closer.

She took a step back, not looking at him. She felt like yelling, and screaming, and kicking, and breaking anything that she could get her hands on. She opted not to for the time being.

“Don’t lie to me,” she shook her head, hardly noticing the electricity beginning to flow through her entire body, in sync with her frustration, “Don’t act like this whole thing isn’t pathetic. Like I’m not pathetic.”

All of a sudden Bob was the one hesitating, not sure what to do or say. He could see the electricity flowing beneath her skin, and how she glowed slightly.

He began to take another step forward, “That’s not true-”

“I said don’t lie!” Her voice cracked as a violent surge of electricity finally released itself, bursting from her hands as she lashed out.

Bob barely had time to brace himself, catching the wave square in the chest. He skidded back a few feet while floor around him crackled, and smoke rose from the mat. He smiled to himself for a moment, when he realized that it actually hurt.

He hadn’t felt that in a while.

Y/N stood frozen. Her heart was racing, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly, “I-I didn’t mean to-”

Bob straightened slowly, looking incredibly impressed, “There she is.”

Y/N blinked, “What?”

“That,” he said, pointing to her hands, “Is what I’m talking about. It was raw, yes. But you didn’t lose control. You held the charge, you aimed, and you pulled back at the last second. That was instinct and restraint. That was control.”

She glanced down at the mat, seeing the minor skid marks from where he had dug his heels in as she knocked him back. She looked at her hands next, feeling the current run through them more comfortably, more confidently.

More powerfully.

She looked up at Bob, a different kind of glint behind her eyes this time. He smirked at her, heart swelling with pride as he opened his mouth to speak,

“C’mon,” he said, arms going up in defense for the first time during the whole session, “Hit me with another one.”

———

From above, Yelena smiled faintly, her own chest swelling with pride as she watched Y/N throw blast after blast. They were steady, more controlled, accurate.

They were even knocking the wind out of Bob, something no other avenger had ever been able to do.

Another fifteen minutes went by before Y/N’s hands finally dropped to her sides, catching her breath. Bob relaxed his stance, making his way over to her.

“Well,” she said, glancing toward Bucky, “That was surprisingly productive.”

Bucky gave a quiet grunt of agreement, eyes still on Y/N. “She just needs space to fall apart without being judged for it.”

“She’s lucky,” Yelena murmured, watching Bob as he gently wrapped an arm around her, “To have someone like that.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, voice unreadable. “She is.”

Yelena shrugged, turning to walk away, “They are like lovesick puppies.”

Bucky cracked a smile for the first time that day, but said nothing else, as he followed Yelena out of the training room.

———

Y/N sat down on the mat, still catching her breath, and wiping sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her shirt.

“I actually feel good,” she said, surprised at herself, “Like I could do that again… not today though. No more for today.”

Bob sat beside her with a chuckle, their knees touching, “You should feel good, you earned it.”

She nudged him playfully, “You sure you didn’t go easy on me?”

“Absolutely not,” he said with mock offense, “I was bracing for impact the whole time.” She laughed, the sound light and unguarded, and leaned against his shoulder,

“Thanks coach.”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around her back,“Anytime, sparky.”

She snorted and shoved his shoulder.

[sunnwila]

dimples

high school best friend! sam winchester x f! hunter! reader

⋆༺♱༻⋆

summary: sam winchester transferred to your high school in your junior year. he lasted all of five months there but in that time, you grew close enough for sleepovers. you reunite on the hunt years later... closer to his brother than he likes honestly. it's shocking that you can hunt for all of two minutes before he sees you take down a vamp.

warnings: some very mild angst, some fluff. jealous sammy and dimpled sammy. nerdy sammy. LOTS of back story i got carried away, sorry. some shit head big brother dean too. brief j*hn winchester mentions... idiots in love!

i love sam's dimples, what can i say.

⋆༺♱༻⋆

The first time you met Sam you were freshly seventeen in your junior year of high school. Sam was just a year below you, despite being seventeen himself (he was forced to stay back a year because of moving around so much. This severely irked him).

No one had the nerve to go up to the new kid, he was lanky and had a mean resting face that dared people to mess with him. You didn't have it either honestly, but luckily for you, you didn't need to because Sam had beat you to it.

"Is that Frankenstein?" he asked, pointing to the book in your hand. His locker was a couple across from yours, but the hallway was nearly empty. He shut his with a click before striding over to you with his head tilted in curiosity. You looked down to the book you had taken out, it was the assigned reading for your Honors Lit class, and you gripped it at the realization that he was talking to you.

"Uh. Yes," you stumbled over your words which made him quirk a half smile, his dimple peeking out at you. Suddenly the giant kid with a size too small shirt and shaggy brown hair seemed completely harmless. You smiled back and from that moment on you'd been inseparable.

Dean had teased Sam endlessly about his "girlfriend" when he would pick him up from school and see you lingering by his side on the stairs.

"Girl and friend, Dean. She's my friend who happens to also be a girl," he would correct annoyed as he slid into the passenger seat, inconspicuously looking back out the window at you.

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night," he retorted with a chuckle and a glint in his eye.

Sam and you would pour over books, endlessly dissecting plot structure and sharing character analysis. He would geek out about whatever he was learning in history while you carefully listened and drew little cartoons of him while he babbled.

(His face would light up when he saw these drawings of himself, or sometimes it would be a panel of cartoon-him and cartoon-you doing something silly. Every time, he'd insist you sign them before carefully putting it in-between the pages in his book).

He'd purposely annoy you with arguments like who the best classic author was (he said Salinger, you said Steinbeck) and why Dally in the Outsiders was the best Greaser (you were quite fond of Ponyboy).

Sometimes you'd read in silence together, the white noise and the sound of his breathing enveloped you and you'd sometimes (a lot of times) get distracted peeking over your page to study his face and the way his brow furrowed when he concentrated.

Practically attached at the hip, you two would walk down the halls together, laughing about whatever stupid thing you could think of to get a peek at his dimples.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't harboring the teensiest crush on him.

What wasn't to love? His smile was the cutest. He was a full head taller than you, and then some. He loved to read all of the same books you did, and he was ever the gentleman, kind and reassuring. And he was funny! Most of the time you were in stitches when he would crack the rare joke (apart from his little sarcastic comments).

The only problem was that you didn't know a thing about him. All you knew was that he moved around a lot and had a brother. There was never a mention of his mother or father. The one time he had mentioned John was brief, and it was that he was kind of a hard ass because he was a Marine. The subject was quickly dropped in favor of Napolean and Napoleonic code, something he started reading about when he got bored in Pre-Calc the week prior.

You'd never gone to his house, but he would often come to yours, first to study, then to watch movies, then for dinner. Eventually he was spending weekends at your house. Your mother thought the two of you were dating. You had to shush her anytime she thought to bring it up with a sly smile at dinner. Sam wasn't stupid, he knew, but politely continued to eat with a faint blush on his cheeks, pretending he hadn't heard.

It irked you that you two could share so much of your time with each other, but you still knew so little about him. He knew everything there was to know about you. You'd only learned the little things, his favorite color (orange, the burnt siena kind), his favorite book (The Catcher in the Rye), how he liked his eggs in the morning (over medium, not too runny, but enough that he could dip his toast in it), and his favorite band (Alice in Chains). You took what you could get, and you never let it show, but it disappointed you that he didn't trust you to tell you. You were so vulnerable with him, did he think that you wouldn't understand?

One Friday he didn't come to school. You texted him a quick where r u??? before going into your shared chemistry class. You didn't hear from him the whole day and didn't see him again until that Tuesday. Worried sick, you pushed him for answers, especially for the black eye he was sporting. He dodged your questions and gave halfhearted attempts to change the subject until eventually he shut you out. He moved out of town a day later with no explanation. He had sent a goodbye text, but that was the last you heard from him.

For the next few years, you thought about Sam. All you'd had left of him was his Radiohead CD and an arbitrary green t shirt. You'd texted and texted but got no response.

When you'd graduated top of your class, you wished he was there. When you'd had no prom date, you wished he was there. When you were applying to schools you wished he was there.

When your mom got killed by a rugaru in your second semester of your freshman year of college, you'd wished he was there.

And like any hunter worth their salt, you dropped everything and began hunting the thing that killed her.

For a while you were chasing your own tail in circles. You came across other small hunters, but it wasn't until you'd met Bobby that you were finally able to track the thing down. All those years of your mom insisting on kick boxing and Jiu Jitsu classes were starting to make sense.

She'd been a retired hunter and a close friend of Bobby's. He told you that your father had been killed by a shifter a month before you were born, leaving your mother in ruins. Instead of aiming for revenge, she swore it off to keep you safe.

Fat load of good that did you.

Rugaru dead, you found yourself spending a lot of time with Bobby. You didn't go back to school, but you did start carrying your own weight around the scrapyard and helping with the hunter information hub.

That's how you met John Winchester. And evidently Dean.

When you first met them, you couldn't believe it. Were these the infamous Marine father and annoying brother Sam hardly spoke about back then? You couldn't believe it. You obviously hadn't known before that Sam's family were hunters, but things began shifting into place in your mind when you put two and two together.

He'd clam up when the subject of college was brought up, all the weekends he'd spend at your house, avoiding questions from your mother about where his family was and if he'd told them he was staying over. All the ominous talk about not wanting to go into the family business. Your heart swelled at the thought of seeing him again, only to deflate when Bobby had to explain that Sam wasn't in the life anymore. It was then you realized that all the time Sam spent with you, was to escape.

Pieces of you were glad Sam got out. His reluctance to mention his dad then made sense. But what stood out in your mind most often was his fiery blush when you told him that with the way he talked himself out of trouble all the time, he'd make a decent lawyer

Even three years later, you still thought about him. You missed him.

So you got to know the parts of Sam he hadn't shown you before.

Dean took to you almost immediately. He remembered you from that beat-down-town years ago and enjoyed annoying you just as much as his brother once had. When you got on your feet again and started hunting, you'd tagged along with John and Dean, eager to get out. When John got sick of lugging you around, calling you dead weight (not without a sneer and a scoff of disbelief from you) he sent you and Dean to small-fry jobs.

A month or two in, Dean and you found a rhythm. Find the monster of the week, do your homework, scramble to kill the thing, celebrate with a few beers and a night at a dive.

You hardly brought up Sam. It was a touchy subject. From the tidbits you'd gathered on drunk sappy nights with Dean, Sam had left without looking back. He'd run off to college and was determined to leave this life and his brother behind. Dean hadn't spoken to him in years. You weren't sure if you should tell him that it didn't sound like Sam to leave with no contact, but then again, he had done the same thing to you. You'd only been friends for five short months; you had no idea who he could've grown up to be.

John brought him up when he needed to point out how much better Sam was at research then you were, or really anything you did-- Sam was better. The pride in his voice mixed with the disappointed look in his eye encouraged you to keep your mouth shut. Usually, you'd just sit there and fume, you hadn't known the man long enough to spit something back, sufficing with muttered fuck you-s under your breath. You hadn't wanted to upset Dean, you knew how highly he thought of his father and had decided it wasn't worth it.

Fire would rise in your chest when you saw the pained look on Dean's face anytime his dad talked about Sam. In the months you'd gotten to know him, you became fiercely protective (something that made Dean wildly conflicted, he was the big brother/mama bear... having someone else dote on him was foreign, but strangely not unwelcome).

Usually, when John started on a tangent, you just removed yourself and lugged Dean with you. He kept the shouting up as you two stalked off to the Impala, or the Motel, or wherever he wasn't. It was around those times where he would send you two off on your own.

That's how you'd found yourselves in the Impala on the way back from a hunt in Raleigh. It took a week and a half to find a haunted doll hiding in someone's attic, but you'd managed to salt and burn it without much damage. Two years of hunting with Dean put you at a comfortable ease during a hunt and the two of you pretty much knew the ins and outs of each other, both as hunters and as friends.

On the way out of North Carolina, Dean decided to call John, to check in and see how his hunt in California was going. Fourteen missed calls later, Dean was worried. Bobby hadn't heard from him, and John wasn't necessarily a friendly hunter, so none of Bobby's hunter friends had seen or heard anything either.

The car was silent while he figured out what to do in his head. His resolve never faltered, his gaze trained on the road ahead.

"I think I should get Sam," he said.

"What?" The idea of seeing Sam for the first time in over five years almost made your heart stop. But you didn't want to be selfish. it wasn't fair to bring him back because of a silly schoolgirl crush.

"Our dad's missing, Sam deserves to know," he had replied, knuckles tightening on the wheel.

"Dean, are you sure we should even bring him back in?" As much as you missed Sam, you respected him more.

"Our Dad is missing," he said with a tone of finality that shut you up. You'd have plenty of time to argue with him later, it wasn't worth it right now.

"I'll drop you off at Bobby's," he added.

"What?" you repeated, starting the fight you'd planned for later. There was no way you were sitting this out, you'd told him as much, but he wouldn't have anything of it. This was something he felt he didn't need to drag you into. You didn't even like his dad anyways, he had said. Which was true but hearing him say it felt like a slap in the face, as if you weren't allowed to want to help Dean, someone who had become family.

The car ride was silent after your argument. You'd gotten out of the Impala without a word, lingering to see if he might say something. When nothing followed, you stood there like an idiot for another second before a simple "Goodluck" fell from your mouth and you shut the passenger door on him. You'd turned and trudged into the ranch ahead, too stubborn to actually give a proper goodbye.

For days you wanted to cry. You hadn't heard anything from him, Bobby mentioned he had called when he got Sam, but nothing else. When you got over yourself, you realized that in Dean's stupid protective head he probably thought he was looking after you. Whatever he thought had made his dad disappear, he didn't want you to get hurt. That's what Bobby had said. You tried to not let it sting whenever you thought about him thinking you weren't capable or a good enough hunter.

A week passed when you heard about Jess. Still nothing from Dean or Sam. You hadn't known he was in a relationship, neither did Dean, by the way he spoke about him--at least, he had never mentioned anything. A twinge of regret pierced through your heart, and embarrassingly enough, disappointment. That stupid high school crush never really went away. But you'd only sort of gotten to know him, briefly, you had no claim on him.

You didn't call Dean to check on them. You didn't want to press, you were sure Sam didn't need that right now.

Another week passed with nothing from them, and you quickly got sick of sitting around all day and decided to go back out and hunt. Overthinking your relationship with the both of them wasn't doing you any good. Bobby was worried for you, but you'd amassed quite the skill since your mother died, your fighting skills far passed anything Dean could muster, and your aim was getting better as time went on.

You took a car from the yard--something you'd been tinkering with for the time you'd spent there--and packed a bag. Then the gear. And after a nice roast dinner you'd made for Bobby and yourself, you hit the road, following a lead on a djinn down in Tennesse.

And just like that, you had spent a year hunting on your own. Not necessarily with the same efficiency that you achieved when you were hunting with Dean, but you handled your own well enough. Hunts took a little longer, but then again, you were finally on your own, no crutch to fall back on. It was relieving as much as it was lonely. You missed sharing breakfast or lunch or dinner with Dean at a diner, laughing when he stuffed his face.

And the money thing was kinda hard. Dean handled the fake credit cards. You'd learned how to hustle pool and so instead of committing credit card fraud, you used good old-fashioned misogyny to win a couple hundred bucks from loser guys at bars.

It was one of these nights that you found yourself at the edge of a pool table, hustling a group of guys that had a little more to drink then they probably should've.

Five of them crowded around the other side of the table, four cheering on the fifth who was currently aiming for a striped ball in the corner pocket. You'd beat two of them already, but somehow the others couldn't believe that you, a woman, could not beat them. Let alone have the smarts to hustle them out of their money. It must be beginner's luck they chortled amongst each other.

The laughing stopped when you beat the fourth guy. And like clockwork, the fifth stood up to play. You had to roll your eyes. Did they even consider the fact that you were hustling them? You couldn't tell if they were more upset that they were losing their money or that it was a woman they were losing to.

Either way, pride got in their way. Another win, and you had over half a grand in your hand. You had to laugh.

"Good game, hon. You almost had me!" you shook your head in amusement.

"You bitch," the fifth man snarled. Two other men saddled up behind him, giving menacing stares.

They weren't so amused, apparently.

"Freaky, huh? I mean, are you sure you guys weren't going easy on me?" you couldn't help yourself as you pocketed the cash. You hoped the kitchen was still open, maybe you could get some mozzarella sticks to celebrate your win.

"You think you're funny?" One guy said.

"Oh no! A little girl like me? Funny? Can't be," you grinned. A small audience was forming as people began to take notice of the hostility radiating off of the men. You knew when to quit it, so you smiled extra sweet at them, an evil glint in your eye, before bending down to pick up your bag from the ground.

It was at this precise moment that a few things happened at once. First, the fifth guy (the ringleader if you will) stepped forward, no doubt, with the intent to scare you. You had anticipated this and popped up, ready to play dirty and kick his knees in, when another man from the audience stepped in with a deep "Hey!" You got a brief flash of leather, and, unable to stop what had already been put in motion, side swiped the fuck out of the man stepping up to your defense.

"Shit!" he cursed as he went down. Shocked and apologetic, you turned to help him up, barely catching a glimpse of your victim, when a heavy hand came crashing down on your shoulder and pulled you away roughly. Assuming it was one of the other pissed off guys, you turned and swung in the general direction of what you assumed to be your attacker's head.

A familiar "oof" came when you made contact with a cheekbone. Immediately your brows furrowed, your hand slackened and your heart dropped. It couldn't be.

Your mouth was too slow on the uptake and Dean beat you to it. Hauling himself up from the floor where you'd swiped him down and called your name in disbelief. Your eyes widened when you realized.

Your head whipped around to see Sam standing behind you holding his cheek, bewildered.

"Holy shit!" you looked between Dean and Sam, the angry men stood forgotten on the sidelines of the whole ordeal, unsure of what to do. You paid no mind as you looked back to Sam again, not convinced this wasn't a dream.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked as he pulled you in for a hug. You embraced him and shoved your face in his leather jacket.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" you quipped, slapping his shoulder.

"Getting attacked by you, even though I was about to defend your ass!"

"My ass doesn't need any defending, thank you," you smiled.

"Right. You had it handled," he rolled his eyes. You slapped his shoulder again.

"Yeah, I did. I'm a way better fighter than you," you shrugged.

"You are not."

"Bobby thinks so."

"What?" That got him. Before you could unleash your witty reply, Sam cleared his throat behind you, turning both yours and Dean's attention to him. He wouldn't look at you at first, just made big expectant eyes at Dean.

"What?" he said, clueless. Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning back to you with a soft smile on his face.

"Hi," he said, all sheepish.

"Hi!" You beamed and immediately pulled him in for a hug. He was at least three inches taller than the last time you'd hugged him. He smelled the same, though. Just the feeling of his heart beating against your cheek pulled you back to seventeen, pining after him and laughing in the echoing hallways.

"What are you-"

"Why are y-" you both cut each other off with an awkward chuckle as you pulled away.

"Sorry, you go," you smiled.

"No, no. You first," he gestured with his hand, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity, dimples peeking out in amazement.

"Uh, before you two start, can we sit? I need a beer," Dean chimed in with a grimace. You rolled your eyes, Sam mirroring your expression before turning to the nearest booth.

When you guys settled, Sam across from you and Dean on your right, you ask your question again, "Why are you guys here?"

"Hunt, duh," Dean replied, taking a sip from his beer. You saw Sam's eyes widen in annoyance in Dean's direction.

"Oh. Right. Sammy, she's a hunter now," he explained. Your head spun back to face Sam.

"Wait, you didn't know?"

"How was I supposed to know?" he replied, half joking, half butthurt at being left out.

"Well, I assumed your brother told you," you shrugged, looking to your right and fixing Dean with a look.

"Sorry, but he would've gotten all worried and distracted. You know how he is," he busied himself with a ring on his finger, avoiding eye contact.

"You're an idiot," you said before turning back to Sam with a smile.

"So you're a hunter..." he trailed off.

"Yeah, have been for about... four and a half years now?" you sighed.

"Wow. And that's how you know my brother," he said, eyeing Dean.

"Yeah. Went hunting with him and John a few times. Then with Dean for like, what? Six months?" you turned to ask.

"Eight," he replied.

"Eight months I guess," you said turning back to Sam. He had an unreadable look on his face. If you hadn't known any better, you'd say it looked like jealousy, but that couldn't be. He'd tensed up when you brought up John too, and by the clear lack of him around, you understood that they still hadn't found him. You didn't push the subject.

Sam's hands rested on the table in front of you, his fingers woven together and fidgeting. He didn't say anything for a while, just looked at you like you could disappear any moment. He seemed like he wanted to say something but refrained. Maybe for Dean's sake, maybe for his own. You wished he'd just say it.

After a moment he smiled, "Man, I can't believe it's you. I thought for sure you'd be a professor or something," he shook his head.

"A professor? Why?"

"Well, I was gonna say doctor, but you hated chemistry so much back then..." he trailed off. You laughed.

"Yeah, you're right," you wanted to reach out and touch his hand just to feel him. You still didn't believe he was right there in front of you, after all the years of wishing you could see him, hear his voice.

Dean spoke up then, "We're here about some disappearances."

"Me too. It's a vamp nest," you said without turning your head. You couldn't stop staring at Sam. He was looking down at his hands, so you drank him in without freaking him out. His hair had gotten longer; he kept his bangs though. The urge to trace the moles on his face made your fingers twitch and you had to squeeze them to remind yourself of where you were. Of who you were to him. His girlfriend had only died just last year.

"You're quick," Dean replied, "when'd you get here?"

"Mmmm, last Friday?"

"Huh," Sam chimed in, studying your face. Though he tried to mask his surprise at your efficiency in finding the monster in a short few days, his mouth gave it away, twitching in disbelief.

"Right, well, y'know where it is?" Dean sipped the last of his beer and motioned for another.

"Oh yeah, couple buildings down from here, was gonna head over after I gambled for my lunch money for tomorrow," you grinned. Sam laughed at this.

"Alright lemme finish this and let's go," Dean motioned.

"Are you hijacking my hunt?"

"You don't want help?" he tutted.

"Yeah, yeah," you swatted him away as he poked your arm. Sam watched this interaction closely, his jaw clenched. You only caught a glimpse of it before he steeled himself and his face went back to neutral.

Dean finished his beer in two big gulps and you and Sam followed him out and to your car.

"You fixed this thing up?" Dean gestured to your mustang.

"Mhmm, this is Cherry," you puffed up your chest in pride as the boys looked onto your cherry red muscle car.

"Creative," Sam quipped with a teasing smile. He peeked into the car, eager to see what you had in there. He wanted to take in as much about your new life as possible. He felt like he missed so much.

You popped your trunk, grabbing a machete and a book from your duffle.

"Hey, you still like this book?" you called out to Sam whose head was almost fully in your passenger side window. He shot himself up so fast, you were surprised he didn't hit his head. Sheepishly, he walked around to you where you held out your beaten copy of Frankenstein that the two of you had gushed over all those years ago. A laugh bubbled out of him, and you warmed at the sound.

"You still have this?" he reached out to take it from you, his fingers brushing yours, butterflies erupted in your stomach.

"Well, yeah. It's in your hand, isn't it?"

"Still a smartass then," he shook his head with a fond smile.

"Says you," you nudged his shoulder. Dean had wandered off to the Impala to grab their gear, so it was just the two of you alone. "You can have it," you said pushing the book closer to his chest. More fluttering in your stomach at the contact with his warm hands.

"No," he tried to argue but you shushed him.

"Seriously. I've read it so many times, I can recite whole pages, word for word." He laughed again at this, and you beamed.

"Fine. But I'm giving it back when I'm done."

"Sure, you are."

"I missed you," he said after a moment of silence. You looked up at him.

"I missed you too."

"I wanted to call so many times," he said.

"That's okay," you looked down and kicked at a pebble with the toe of your boot.

Both of you weren't sure what to say next. The Impala started with a roar in the distance, filling the silence between you two.

"I'm sorry about Jessica," you whispered. You didn't want to bring her up. You didn't know how Sam was doing; you hadn't ever talked about anything so vulnerable regarding his life with him before, but you needed him to know.

Before he could reply, Dean rolled up, window down and head sticking out his driver's side window.

"Alright, let's dust these fuckers, you comin'?"

"Right, yeah" you said, swinging the machete in your hand. Sam cleared his throat, eyeing your swinging before rounding the car and entering the passenger side. You sidled up to the trunk, tossing the weapon in with the others and swung around to the back, sat comfortably behind the brothers.

"How long you been huntin' again? Last I heard from Bobby you were hangin' around there," Dean asked as he sped off.

"Eh, year or so? I go back to Bobby's every coupla months though," you cracked your knuckles in the silence. Sam's head turned ever so slightly in your direction, you wouldn't have caught the motion if you weren't staring. He didn't say anything for the whole ride, but Dean did a whole lot of talking for the both of them, asking how you've been, commenting on the new machete, but never bringing up John.

When you got there, Dean assigned roles. You took the back entrance; he and Sam would take the front. You had a mean swing, and weren't worried, but Sam's eyebrows furrowed when Dean announced that you would be alone. He looked about to speak up, but you interrupted before he could say anything.

"I'm good. There's only like three of them in there, last I checked. I could do this alone if I wanted," you couldn't help the boast. Dean laughed and clapped his brother on the back.

"She ain't a little girl anymore," he strutted off (because yes Dean Winchester struts). Sam followed but not without a look of reluctance to you, "Be careful," he urged.

"I always am," you smiled before jogging to the back. You peered through the windows but saw nothing but shadows. It was pitch black out and there were no lights on inside. The back door opened without any force and you made your way inside, eyes scanning what looked to be the kitchen. You heard muffled footsteps to your right, but turned to see it was just Sam.

"Anything?"

"No, there's gotta be a basement," you replied. The two of you began searching for a door until you heard a grunt come from the room next to yours. There were a few more and what sounded like a punch landing. You and Sam ran to aid Dean in whatever he was dealing with when another vamp descended on you. You swung your machete around and nailed it in the arm. It hissed and swung its other arm at you, grabbing your shoulder.

In the mess of fighting, you caught a brief glance at Sam fighting his own vamp, it getting dangerously close to his neck at points.

You ripped from the vamp's grasp and kicked it down, knocking the wind out of it before swinging your machete around and slicing its head clean off. When you turned to see how the boys were doing, you were met with less success than yourself. Dean had gotten his weapon wrestled from him and thrown to the side.

You charged up to the vamp attacking him from behind and swung, but he moved at the last second and you cut through the air, nearly missing Dean's nose. His eyes widened before turning his attention back to the vampire, turning its attention on you, pissed.

Dean grabbed for his machete on the ground and charged, nicking its shoulder. You turned back to Sam who was far too preoccupied with watching your back that he was losing his battle. His arm was bleeding as he tried to fight off with his other good arm. As you made your way to help, the vamp kicked him across the floor, Sam slammed his head on the cabinets in the fall, and you winced. You turned back to Dean, who had his vamp cornered and was talking smack (because he always has to use that smart mouth). Seeing he was perfectly fine; you turned your attention back to your vampire.

Pissed, you took one swing to the unassuming man and his head thudded to the ground, rolling as you rushed over to Sam.

"Jesus," you said as you helped him up. He groaned. "Why the hell were you watching me?" you remarked, annoyed.

"I wasn't!" he defended, propped up against the cabinets behind him. Footsteps echoed behind you.

"Sammy what the hell!" Dean said behind you.

"He didn't bite you, did he?" you asked, brows furrowed and eyes scanning his body. You looked closer at the wound on his arm, and he hissed.

"No."

"No need to be pissy about it, c'mere," you hoisted yourself up and held out a hand for him to take. He grabbed it and used the leverage to pull himself up as well, not meeting your eyes.

"You could've gotten yourself killed," you scolded.

"Yeah, well I didn't," he mumbled, embarrassed.

"I dunno why you were so worried about me. I told you; I was fine. I can handle myself."

"Yeah, I gathered that," he replied with a huff as he walked through the back door.

"That was it right?" you turned to Dean who had been silent for the time being.

"Yeah, those assholes came from the basement. I checked after I wasted the other vamp."

"Wasted?" you teased.

"Shut up," he rolled his eyes with a smile. You turned your attention ahead of you again and saw that Sam was much further ahead than before, so you jogged to keep up with him.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he grumbled.

"You have a huge gash on your arm, and you hit your head like a motherfucker," you deadpanned. Normally, this would crack at least a small smile from Sam, but he said nothing keeping his eyes trained ahead.

"Listen, I don't understand why you're upset with me," you tried again.

"I'm not upset with you," he reluctantly responded after a moment.

"Then what's up?" More silence. You saw him chewing on his cheek, contemplating what to say next. "C'mon, you're my best friend," you nudged his bad arm, and he winced. "Shit, sorry."

He turned to you with a look in his eye, scanning over your face before speaking, "I wasn't expecting you to be so close with Dean."

You almost laughed, but for Sam's sake you reeled it in. A smile creeps up on you, and you watch his face for a second before replying, "Are you jealous, Winchester?"

He shook his head in disbelief and a small laugh fell from his lips. You smiled, "I missed that laugh." Your cheeks flushed at the moment of vulnerability, and you hesitated to meet his gaze. He dipped his head, so you had no choice but to look up at the puppy dog look he was giving you as the two of you walked right up to the side of the Impala.

You both stopped, saying nothing. You weren't sure what to say. Sam didn't have anything to be jealous of. Dean was your family, sure, but Sam was this big, never ending, sense of warmth. You held on to that stupid crush for years. How could you explain that to him?

You looked at him and studied his face. His lips were pursed slightly and his eyes darted back and forth over your face. You wished so badly to reach out and touch him but refrained, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't your place. Sam still said nothing.

Dean finally reached the two of you, clearing his throat with raised eyebrows. Some sight the two of you must've been, Sam bloody and beaten, and you sheepish and wide eyed, turning from each other to look at Dean.

"Don't you two look cute," he remarked with a smirk, making Sam choke in surprise, his neck stiff with embarrassment. Your cheeks went red, and you squinted at Dean as if you could inflict physical pain through a look. He looked smug as he glanced between the two of you and the both of you took a step away from each other at the implication.

"I need a cigarette," you both said at the same time. Then, "You smoke?"

𖤐

not really proofread... sorry !

[aventurineswife]

Two Hands, One Home

Summary: After an abyss attack destroys your home, Kinich, who values independence and self-reliance, offers you a place to stay. Though he presents it as purely practical, his actions reveal a quiet, genuine care. Over time, you settle into a peaceful routine together, finding comfort in his reserved kindness and the small gestures of care he provides, learning that beneath his cold exterior, Kinich has his own way of showing affection.

Tags: @m1nella, Kinich x Reader, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Reserved Kinich, Found Family, Quiet Moments, Pragmatic Romance, Subtle Affection, Soft Kinich.

Warnings: Implied Loss Due To An Abyss Attack, Mild Angst.

The aftermath of the abyss attack was devastating. Your home, once a place of safety and comfort, had been reduced to rubble, its walls shattered and roof torn asunder. The shock of losing everything you had worked for in an instant left you feeling hollow, adrift in a world that had suddenly turned cold and uncertain.

But amid the chaos, there was an unexpected offer. Kinich, with his usual stoic expression, had come to you with a quiet proposal. “You can stay at my place while your house is being repaired.” he said, his tone as dry as ever, yet beneath it was something softer, something genuine.

You were hesitant at first—Kinich was a private person, and you knew his past hadn’t been easy. Still, the practicality of the offer, and the simple fact that you needed somewhere safe to stay, won out. You nodded, grateful but unsure of what to expect.

The day you moved into Kinich’s house, you couldn’t help but be surprised by how… normal it was. The inside was modest, a far cry from the grandeur of the mansions you’d seen in the past. But it had a warmth to it, an unspoken coziness. The walls were lined with handmade furniture, small knick-knacks that spoke of a life lived with care and attention, even if it wasn’t a life of luxury.

Kinich showed you around, his gestures efficient but not unkind. “This is the kitchen,” he said, pointing to a simple stove and a small table. “If you need anything, just ask. And, uh… don’t go near the shed out back. I keep some of my… tools there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tools?”

His lips twitched in what might have been a smile, though it was hard to say. “I’ve got a lot of things to fix. You’ll see.”

You followed him to the living room, where a modest fireplace crackled. The scent of wood and something faintly herbal hung in the air, and Kinich, ever the practical one, was already setting up a small cot by the wall for you.

“Don’t make a fuss about it,” he said as he smoothed out the blanket. “It’s not much, but it’ll do for now.”

You couldn’t help but feel touched. For someone who valued independence so much, Kinich was surprisingly attentive in his own way. You sat down on the cot, still a bit unsure of what to do next.

Kinich cleared his throat and turned toward the kitchen. “I’m making dinner. It’ll be ready in about an hour. You can relax until then.”

As he worked, you took a moment to look around the room. It wasn’t much, but it was his—his space, his home. The absence of his usual sharpness, the subtle kindness of his gestures, made you feel a little less alone. Even if he didn’t show it often, Kinich had a way of making you feel like you mattered.

Dinner was simple, a warm stew that smelled of fresh herbs and hearty vegetables. Kinich placed a bowl in front of you, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was something softer in his eyes, a flicker of something more than just duty.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you said, quietly breaking the silence. “Let me help with something.”

Kinich paused for a moment, his hand still on the pot as he glanced over at you. “It’s fine,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not doing it for you. Just… don’t let the food go to waste.”

You chuckled softly, nodding. Kinich’s words were as blunt as always, but the care in his actions was something you couldn’t overlook. As you sat together at the table, eating in comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but think that, despite everything, you had found a place here—a place where, for the time being, you could heal

Over the next few days, life at Kinich’s house settled into a quiet routine. You’d help with the small tasks around the house—cleaning up, organizing things—and in return, Kinich would share bits and pieces of his life with you, small snippets of knowledge or skills that he’d learned over the years.

One evening, as the sun began to set, you found Kinich in the garden, tending to some plants in the fading light. You hadn’t realized how peaceful the house could feel when it was just the two of you, sharing this simple life together.

“Need help?” you asked, walking over to him.

Kinich glanced up, his face softening slightly. “If you want. I could always use another pair of hands around here.”

You knelt beside him, taking a small gardening trowel and gently digging into the soil. There was a strange comfort in working alongside him, the silence between you both not awkward but companionable, as if you were partners in something greater than just survival.

“Why do you do it?” you asked, looking up at him. “Tending to all this, I mean. I would’ve thought you’d want to leave it all behind.”

Kinich paused, the question catching him off guard. His eyes flickered briefly, almost hesitant, before he answered. “Because it’s mine. It’s the one thing in this world I can rely on. People… they come and go. But this? It’s real. It stays.”

You smiled at his answer, understanding him a little more than you had before. Kinich didn’t offer grand gestures or flowery words, but in the little things—like the way he cared for his home, or the way he offered you a place to stay when you needed it most—you saw his quiet strength.

And, despite his belief in self-sufficiency, you couldn’t help but wonder if, maybe, for just a moment, you could be the one thing he’d allow himself to rely on, too.

That night, as you both sat by the fire, Kinich spoke again, his voice quieter than usual.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.” he said, not looking directly at you but still offering the words with sincerity.

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude. “Thanks, Kinich. I… I really appreciate it.”

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “It’s not charity. It’s just… practical.”

But the warmth in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

[thimbleandakiss]

You Shouldn't Be Here

Hufflepuff!Reader x Fred Weasley

Summary: After a rough night, you sneak into Gryffindor Tower to bug your sleepy boyfriend.

Content: Fluff, mild angst, mild cursing, and Umbridge hate

Cross-posted on Ao3

"Bloody hell- what in Merlin's name-"

You quickly covered his mouth with your hand, grinning lopsidedly. 

"Shhh, Freddie," You hush with a small giggle, "You'll wake the others." 

You'd ensured the crimson curtains were drawn tight around Fred's fourposter, but there was only so much privacy fabric could provide. 

Fred grabbed hold of your wrist and effortlessly pulled it away from his mouth. He pressed a quick kiss to your knuckles before giving you an incredulous look. 

"What time is it, love?" He grumbled. 

"Oh, not long after one o'clock," You replied casually.

"And you're in Gryffindor Tower." 

You nodded, looking quite pleased with yourself, "Yes."

"...But you're Hufflepuff."

"And?"

"You shouldn't be here."

You raised a single eyebrow which probably couldn't be seen well in the gloom. "Are you, Fred Weasley, complaining about me breaking school rules?"

He huffed and shifted his weight, so he's sitting up just a little on the headboard while you straddled lap. His hands rested casually on your hips, thumbs mindlessly stroking the curve of the bone and your own arms slung across his shoulders. 

"No, not at all, love, it's just-" He sighed, "With that foul Umbridge woman running amok, consequences are a lot more... permanent."

Even in the low light of his dorm room, you could see the worry that shone in his eyes. Fred was always one for mischief, but he was hesitant to string you along in it. He had no issue whatsoever with throwing himself headfirst into danger, him and George, because they'd be the only ones to suffer the consequences. With you involved? ...He never wanted you hurt. He had this intense urge to keep you protected at all times. So, while he certainly enjoyed the fact that you were willing to bend the rules to be with him and get yourself in trouble just to cause mischief with him, he always found himself personally responsible whenever you got hurt. 

Your expression darkened slightly at the mention of the Professor. Your hands tightened behind his head, and the scars you'd kept hidden there burning like they had when they'd been freshly etched onto your skin. 

"Believe me, Freddie, I'm intimately acquainted with Umbridge's definition of consequences," You muttered, turning your face away slightly. 

Fred tensed beneath you, sitting up a little straighter. "What haven't you told me?" He demanded quietly but firmly. 

You shook your head. "It's nothing important-"

He cut you off and grabbed your chin to force you to look at him. "Bullshit," he said with careful calm. "Don't tell me what I do and don't find important."

The callouses of his hands scraped gently against the skin of your chin, and though his grip was firm, he's always made sure to be gentle. He'd never admit it to your face, but he treated you like the most precious, fragile thing. He'd probably die from the sheer guilt alone if he ever hurt you. 

You swallowed and, staring into his warm brown eyes which reflected the moonlight like stars across his pupils, found yourself unable to lie to him further.

"...I had detention with her today..." You admitted quietly, looking down. 

Fred let out a stream of colorful, and arguably creative, curses, dropping your chin and returning his hand to your hip. "When?" He asked stiffly, the muscles in his jaw working

"I got off and came straight here."

He cursed again. "She kept you there until one in the morning?!" 

You shrugged. "I suppose I have thicker skin than she anticipated," you mumbled with forced casualty. 

"I'm going to kill that woman." A shiver passed up your spine at the sheer conviction with which he spoke. "What was the reason for it?"

"She caught me consoling a second-year student about his own detention. I was trying to use magic to take away the pain. And, as you well know, all magic is now banned in the halls." 

Fred looked downright outraged. "She threw you in detention for comforting a child?" 

Another shrug. "You know Umbridge," You muttered, though it was of little comfort. "I wonder if she's somehow part dementor. She sucks the soul out of everything."

Fred scoffed lightly. Then, he lifted one of his large hands and set it gently on your arm. "Let me see," He asked softly. 

You knew exactly what he was referring to, and withdrew your hand from behind his neck, angling it so the fresh, angry scars caught in the moonlight. They read I must not set a bad example. 

Fred gently rubbed his thumb across the words, a few locks of his ginger hair falling in front of his eyes. Despite the situation, you smiled, loving the sight. With your spare hand, you gently brushed his hair off his forehead, and he glanced at you, his gaze briefly softening. 

"...This is some bloody bullshit," He muttered finally, intertwining your fingers. 

You chuckled softly. You knew he was upset and angry on your behalf, but you couldn't help but find his inability to adequately express it endearing. 

"It's alright, love," you murmured, running your fingers through his hair, "I'm alright."

He looked at you like he seriously doubted this but chose not to say anything. 

There're a few moments of comfortable silence, before you take a breath. "...Can I stay?" You asked hesitantly. 

He once again looked as if he was about to say something then decided against it. He sighed, "You want to?"

You nodded. 

"Alright. You can stay. But I'm not covering your ass if Professor Sprout gets mad at you for breaking curfew." Despite his words, you knew deep down that he would, in fact, try to cover your ass if it came to it.

You smiled gleefully and quickly shucked off your robe and pulled off your yellow and black tie, tossing them to the ground. You both knew George and Lee wouldn't say anything if they saw your clothes on the ground. They'd probably choose to actively avoid the topic. 

Fred reached over to his dresser and grabbed a spare jumper, handing it to you. It was so oversized that, if you stood, it'd reach to your knees. The extra room in the jumper allowed you to unbutton and slide off your school shirt without ever having to be actually shirtless. 

After the white fabric joined the pile on the floor, you leaned forward and settled against Fred's chest as he, too, laid back down, one arm behind his head, and the other wrapped securely around your waist. You lifted your face to smile at him and found him already grinning down at you. Propping yourself up slightly by your forearms, you planted a gentle kiss to his lips, one he happily returned. 

"Goodnight, Freddie," You whispered as you laid your head back down, closing your eyes and listening to his heartbeat. 

"Goodnight, love," He murmured back softly. 

He rubbed his thumb back and forth soothingly against the small of your back, just to let you know that he was still there, still with you. You knew the moment he started losing consciousness, because it was the same moment the reassuring motion ceased. 

It didn't matter much, however, because it wasn't long after that the sound of his soft breathing, and the quiet, comforting strength of his arm around you sent you into a blissful sleep. 

[xxstormyprincessxx]

Tendou was a lot of things. Crazy, hyper, always taunting people, quick witted, and a “monster”

He never considered relationships. Considered friendships to some extent like with Ushiwaka or other team members.

He was always wild even in the bedroom, high energy, hardcore dominance, and anything but vanilla.

He never considered aftercare as a thing. That was until he met you.

His sweet, chubby, thick thighs, pretty eyes, goddess who’s gone through more than he could stomach.

The first time it happened, he thought nothing of the look on your face.

Same with the second, third and fourth time. He never thought to consider what that painful look on your face was. Until he brought it up to someone he didn’t expect to get advice like this from.

“Have you heard of after care?” Ushijima had replied. “Has she experienced it?” Tendou hadn’t thought about it till that moment.

He spent weeks avoiding touching you, he wouldn’t let his body react no matter how badly he wanted. He knew he should give you an answer cause the pain made him sick.

Finally, finally he gives in. Gives you a well deserved night of hard sex, dominance, and enough orgasms to wreck your pretty little body.

When you rolled over like you always did and moved to go to the bathroom joined to your shared bedroom he gripped your wrist.

“Wait. I uh. I want to do something. Probably something I should have been doing all along.” He had whispered as he pulled you back to the bed, as he held the water out to you.

You sat stunned staring at the bottle in his hand, eventually you took it and drank a good portion of it. Watching him slide his shorts up letting them sit low on his hips, he strolled into the bathroom.

You could hear the shower turn on, things being moved around, and within a couple minutes your legs were being spread by your lover who was running a warm washcloth over your thighs, wiping away your cum, his cum, and all other fluids there.

“Come take a shower with me princess. Then after that I already have snacks.” He pulls you gently to the bathroom, pulling you under the warm spray.

You didn’t dare say anything as he cleaned you up and told you to go get into bed and wait while he showered.

Before long you were held to his warm chest, his fingers running through your damp hair as you slowly began to doze in and out of consciousness

“I’m so sorry I let you down princess. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you afterwards. I’m so sorry if you felt like I was just another shitty fuck who didn’t care.” He whispered.

He spent over an hour whispering soft words of love, support, promises for the future, and repeatedly telling you that you were absolutely safe in his arms.

Before you finally fell asleep you only asked one thing. “Why are you doing this Satori?”

“Because I should have been indulging you in aftercare from the very first time we slept together. I’m so sorry I failed as your dom pretty girl. I’m sure I’m not the first but I sure as hell won’t let you feel anything less than loved from this day on. I promise princess. I’m not going anywhere ever.”

You fell asleep in his arms, safe, loved, and bursting with affection for the wild man.

[fizzyapplecandy]

Ateez as Romance Tropes

The one where Wooyoung has had enough

Other members

Wooyoung x Fem reader

Genres and warnings: best friends to lovers, Wooyung in love, angst, fluff, happy ending, mutual pining, humor, mature language

Word count: 2.8k

Your best friend is at his breaking point after you announce you're going on another date.

Wooyoung was blessed with many things in his life. A loving family, a group of friends he would literally die for, and a best friend and roommate who he loved like no one else.

You see, that blessing was also a curse, because said best friend was also the love of his life, she just wasn't aware. Wooyoung wasn't one to keep secrets, he couldn't. His mouth was bigger than the Pacific ocean, and his mates sometimes wanted to tape it to keep him silent.

Everybody loved Wooyoung, but his yapping was constant. How he managed to keep shut about his crush, he didn't know himself, but he was at a breaking point.

It took everything in him not to blurt it in front of you in the coffee shop as you were telling him about your upcoming date this weekend.

"Do you really have to go? I saw this great new movie coming out on Saturday, wanted to watch it with you." He said, trying to maintain a neutral expression.

"We'll watch it on Sunday, we always do movie night on Sundays." You replied, puzzled by his sudden interest in spending the whole week with you.

No, really, he hasn't left you alone since Monday morning, and it is Thursday now. You and Wooyoung always gave each other space, even when living together. For some reason, he managed to wiggle his way into your schedule.

"Yeah, but I'm too pumped to wait. Come one, you aren't really expecting anything to happen with this guy? He's like, what, the third one in two months?"

You didn't know how to react, but it was clear his words offended you.

"Excuse me? Since when do you keep track of my dating life?"

"Since we became friends? I have to! You never know what kind of creep you might run into!" He said, getting a bit red in the face.

You sighed, leaning back into your seat. Wooyoung has been acting a bit weird lately, but you thought he was weird regardless, so you didn't put much thought into it. Somehow, the way he was going on about this particular date didn't sit right with you.

"Woo, what's going on? Is something troubling you? Are you feeling okay?" You asked, reaching over to place your hand on top of his. He turned his palm around, interlocking your fingers. Wooyoung loved being touchy with you, with everyone really, so you got used to it pretty quickly. You didn't even think twice before reaching over for his other hand to do the same.

"I'm okay, don't worry. I just want to spend time with you. I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages."

You chuckled, watching as he pouted because of your amusement.

"Wooyoung, we live together. We see each other everyday. We brush our teeth together, we eat breakfast and dinner together. You even stay with me in my bed until I fall asleep. Are you sure that's what's concerning you?"

He didn't know what argument he could give. You were right about everything, but you just didn't realise what Wooyoung really meant. You couldn't, not without him telling you the truth.

"I... You're right, of course. Silly me. So, tell me about your date then!"

The way his mood changed so drastically should have made you question him a bit more, but again, you knew how Wooyoung was. His attention span was short, and he liked going from topic to topic until he was bored and found something else to talk about.

You gave him another look, but he just smiled and gestured for you to move on.

"Okay, if you're sure. Well... I met him last week at that new bookstore. We reached for the same novel, and I don't know, started talking. He's a sociology major, but not at our university. His name is Heesung."

He nodded along as you spoke about your little meeting with the Heesung dude, trying not to frown or pout. You went on and on about how smart he was, how you liked the same books, how you drank the exact same coffee order.

"He wants to take me out to dinner, he said the little coffee date we had didn't count. He likes doing fancy things, so we're going to that new French restaurant by the university."

"Hm... Sounds... Great! Yeah, great! So, is Hejung aware your roommate and best friend is a man?"

You frowned, knowing he purposely said his name wrong. Wooyoung did that when he disliked someone, but he didn't even know this guy.

"It's Heesung, and yes, he knows. I told him because he's going to pick me up from our place on Saturday. I didn't want him to freak out."

"Yeah, we don't want to scare poor Hejung."

You wanted to correct him again, but your phone buzzed with a text. You glanced down at it, seeing it was a message from Seonghwa about your study group in the library. You sighed, realising you haven't let go of Wooyoung's hands until you started packing your things.

"It's Heesung. I have to go, Hwa is waiting for me, I haven't even realised what time it is. See you at home!"

You placed a quick kiss on his forehead, something you always did when you said goodbye, and off you went. Wooyoung was never able to return the favour because you always moved away quickly, but he knew it was for the best. He probably wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing your lips, and that would be a disaster.

Right?

.

.

"Okay, you've got to stop eating on the coffee table, we have a kitchen for a reason!"

"Oh, relax, I'm not even making a mess!"

You sighed, watching as Wooyoung slurped his cup noddles while sitting on the floor and watching something on TV. You also noticed how the carpet didn't reach all the way to him, so he sat on the hardwood floor in his shorts.

Without a word, you grabbed a pillow from the couch and handed it to him. He looked at you confused, until you sighed again.

"Lift your butt and sit on it. You shouldn't be sitting on the floor like that."

He smiled, kind of feeling shy.

"Oh... Thanks. Grab one and sit next to me, this show is good."

You make your way over to Wooyoung, doing as he said and making yourself comfortable next to him. It wasn't unusual for him to invade your personal space, so you didn't even blink when he snuggled up to you, picking up the ramen bowl and slurping away. He stopped for a second, grabbing some noodles and offering them to you. You leaned forward and took a bite, not even noticing how he moved your hair out of the way. These actions were something you rarely paid attention to, but Wooyoung never failed to repeat them.

"So, still on for that date tomorrow?"

You choked on the noodles, looking at him wide eyed. He put a glass of water in your hands, patting you lightly on the back.

"Why are we talking about that again?" You managed to ask, gulping down the cold water.

"Because I thought you might've changed your mind. I never know what your brain is up to these days."

He tried to be nonchalant about the situation, but you could tell he was getting nervous. Wooyoung wouldn't even meet your eyes, and that was a huge thing for him.

"No, I haven't changed my mind. I don't know why you are so opposed to me going on a date. I don't say anything about your escapades!"

Now he was getting mad.

"My escapades? Have you seen me go somewhere with someone in the past, I don't know, two years? No, I don't think so."

You stopped for a second, trying to rake through your memories. It was true, Wooyoung hasn't met or talked about anyone in a long time. How did that pass up on you?

"Are you for real? Not even a one night stand?"

He shook his head, getting up and grabbing the empty ramen bowl to throw away.

"Not even that. Shocking, I know. I just... I can't."

"Is something wrong? Have you suddenly lost interest in dating? Is it not going well?"

He scoffed, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching as you approached him carefully.

"No, I haven't lost interest. And you know I can pull anyone I want, man or woman!" He pointed a finger at you, almost offended by your concern.

"Okay, lover boy. Then what's the problem?" You asked, genuinely worried something was going on with him.

"I just... I just don't want to, okay? Leave it be."

"But Woo-"

"I said enough! Just because you go on too many dates, and you can't keep track of your boy toys doesn't mean I do it too!"

Well, that stung. Did he really think about you like that? Wooyoung seemingly realised what a jerk he was, but the damage was already done.

"Is that what you think about me? Are you implying I'm..." You frowned, not knowing how to handle the situation.

"Y/N, baby... I wasn't... You know I would never..."

He was at a loss for words.

"I get it, okay. I know I've had a couple of bad dates, but I didn't even think it was that many. I just didn't think you, out of all people, would judge me."

Your sad expression made Wooyoung's heart break into pieces. Instead of trying to get onto your good graces, he fucked it up, badly.

You pointed to your bedroom, clearing your throat. Wooyoung panicked, because the look on your face told him you were about to cry, and he was the jerk who got you to this point.

"I'm... I'm gonna go to my room now, I'm kind of tired. See you in the morning."

"No, Y/N! Wait a second, I didn't-"

"It's fine, Wooyoung, everyone is entitled to their own opinion."

With that, you turned around and matched into your room, slamming the door without even realising it.

Wooyoung was left standing in the kitchen with a heart so hurt it felt like it would explode right in his chest.

.

.

The next day came, and Wooyoung felt like shit. He hasn't slept properly, and for the most part of the day you were hollowed up in your room. You got out only when you heard him go back into his.

Your dinner date with Heesung was approaching, and suddenly you didn't feel really up to it.

He was a good man, his credentials astonishing, his looks even better. He just wasn't...

You didn't even know what the hold up was. Maybe you were used to loud, rambunctious boys, always trailing after you and making you laugh until your stomach hurts.

There weren't many on the list who did that, no. There was only one you could think of right now, probably beating himself up about the way you spoke yesterday.

But Wooyoung was never an option for you, because you were best friends. Your silly little crush on him was pushed aside somewhere deep into your brain and heart, just to make living with him easier. You knew he'd never look at you like that, so you made up with the fact a long time ago.

Now, as you were putting your makeup on, you thought about what it would be like if he was the one taking you on a date, not Heesung. You'd probably be at a burger joint, after thoroughly criticizing a movie tight in the theatre. You always did that anyways, so there wouldn't be a major change.

Come to think of it, you did almost everything with Wooyoung that you would with a boyfriend, except kiss. One time, you almost did that as well, but your drunken brains somehow knew it wouldn't be right.

You curse yourself for not being spontaneous enough, because Wooyoung looked like he would've devoured you in that moment.

There's no point in thinking about it anymore, because neither of you addressed it, and life went back to normal afterwards.

Sighing, you looked at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your outfit and hair. Heesung texted you saying he was outside, and that you could take your time if you needed. You didn't even check if Wooyoung was out of his room, wanting to get out as quickly as possible.

That's why you practically ran into him in the hallway.

"Oh, sorry."

"Yeah, no worries." You replied, trying to move around him.

"You look beautiful, Y/N."

Your head snapped up, looking into Wooyoung's eyes and seeing how tired he actually was.

"Oh God, have you slept at all? You look horrible!"

He chuckled, rubbing at his eyes to keep the tears at bay.

"Yeah, thanks. I tried... And failed obviously."

"You... Wooyoung..."

He shook his head, motioning for you to go.

"Come on, Heesung is waiting for you."

You froze, eyes going wide.

"You got his name right."

"Sorry?" He asked, confused.

"You never get the name of my date right, it's your thing. Why the sudden change?"

Wooyoung stiffened, deciding it was now or never.

"Well... I have to know the name of the man who is about to take you from me."

"What?"

He shook his head, leading you towards the door.

"Come one, off you go."

"But Woo-"

"Y/N!" He said, voice unusually calm. "You have to leave now, please. Don't make this any harder for me."

"Wooyoung, if you're implying what I think you are..."

"It wouldn't change anything now, would it?"

He asked, already making up with the fact he let you slip out of his fingers.

"Wooyoung, I'm giving you a chance to tell me before I walk out of this door. Once I do, there's nothing I can do. Please, just be honest."

Wooyoung though about his options, but he'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all, so he chose to stay silent. He was confused by your mad expression.

"Is that how it is? Fine."

You opened the front door, turning to look at him again.

"I really thought you'd man up after all these years I spent waiting."

You were gone before he realised what you said.

.

.

"So, I heard this place has really great reviews. They say we can't skip out on the deserts, so be prepared."

You smiled, albeit a bit forced, at Heesung's effort to keep the conversation alive.

The date was a disaster. Your table was nice, a window seat looking out onto the busy street. People were walking hand in hand, with big smiles in their faces. You wish that was the case with you, but the events of the evening were replaying in your mind over and over again.

"Hey, Y/N... Is this about Wooyoung?"

Your head snapped towards Heesung, eyes going wide in shock.

"What?"

He smiled, a bit sad about being right.

"You like him, right? I kind of figured it out the first time we met, but I wanted to shoot my shot."

"I... I don't know what to say."

Heesung looked over your shoulder, smiling at you again.

"I think you don't have to, somebody else will."

You looked at him confused, wondering who he was talking about.

"I've had enough! Hejung, sorry buddy, but I have to take my girl home."

Your head whipped up to see a frantic looking Wooyoung standing beside your table. You gasped, frozen in your seat.

"Wooyoung?"

He looked at you, face red and panting, probably from running towards the restaurant.

"Y/N sweetie, I'm about to pass out. So please, before I do, just tell me you love me like I love you."

You stood up, putting your arms around Wooyoung's neck and hugging him tightly.

"Oh my God, only you would do something like this. Come one, let's go before we cause a scene."

"Tell me you love me first!"

"Wooyoung!"

"Tell me!"

You sighed, glancing at Heesung who had a smile in his face.

"I love you, you idiot, now walk."

Wooyoung cheered, turning to look at the man sitting at the table.

"I lied. I'm not sorry. But it was nice meeting you!"

"No worries, nice to meet you too!"

You wanted to talk to Heesung, apologize for the inconvenience you've caused, but Wooyoung wouldn't let you go.

"I love you, Y/N. You know that now. Ah... I'm feeling so much better."

You giggled, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulder and pull you close.

"I can't believe you just did that."

"Why? You know how insane I am, it's worse when it's for you. But now you're stuck with me forever!"

"That I am. Can't say I'm complaining."

Wooyoung turned to look at you, finally feeling the weight lifting off of his chest.

His girl was now where she belonged, right by his side, and he'd never let go of her.

.

.

[blue-jisungs]

promise

# author's note ... oh i love making deals w zanna bc i get to write this banger (idk what possesed me) and she will write me pt 2 of this masterpiece mwahahahah (go read it btw its so good like vampire hanbin>>>>>)

# setting ... boxer gunwook

# summary ... gunwook comes home after a fight, missing a date... but he can't understand why are you quiet

# warnings ... angsty, hurt to comfort (i think...?), mention of wounds n blood, nursing trope (its me n zanna, come on.... if uve been around for a while u know we r sucker for nursing teehee) also it was written at 2am so sorry for any misrtakes !!!

# word count ... 1k

the door opened quietly but gunwook could swear it was the loudest noise ever. your small but cozy apartment was dipped in the darkness of the night, only occasional beams of moonlight shining on the floor. 

however, there was one more source of light coming from the kitchen. gunwook sighed and took off his shoes. 

his footsteps were soft, trying to keep the noise as low as possible. maybe you’re asleep. maybe you forgot and just left the light on… 

his hopes died upon seeing your silhouette. your back was facing him, legs crossed and head resting on something (probably your arm). 

“you’re home” 

your voice was cold and stung like frostbite but gunwook knew it was well deserved. 

“i’m home” he whispered and you finally turned around. 

now it was your turn to sigh upon seeing his bruised face, busted brow and dried blood on his cheek, along with some cuts. 

“couldn’t you at least take care of yourself?” you murmured and stood up, reaching for the usual spot with a heavy heart. 

gunwook stayed silent because you both knew the answer. he preferred when you took care of him. 

without additional words from you, he went to change into fresh pyjamas that he kept at your place. then he swapped his eye contacts to his glasses, scanning his injuries in the mirror. 

guilt washed over his gut, wounded knuckles turning white from gripping the sink. you’re too sweet for him. 

“wookie?” your soft voice called him, causing a pang in his heart. 

your boyfriend soon enough came out from the bathroom, a sad look on his face. if it wasn’t for his savaged face, you’d think it was a normal night. his black t-shirt, red and black checkered pj pants, glasses resting on the bridge his nose and framing his handsome face. even his raven-colored locks were still slightly wet, probably after the shower he took at the gym. 

gunwook sat on the chair you were previously sitting, spreading his legs and resting his fists on top of his thighs. 

you took a quick glance at the clock, which read 1:31am. your boyfriend caught your worried look and bit the inside of his cheek. 

there were so many things you could say, yell. how he forgot about the date that he promised you two weeks ago. how late it was. how he got hurt again. how he didn’t let you know where was he… or if he was fine. it puzzled gunwook; why were you so quiet? 

he closed his eyes, unable to bare your eyes on him. focusing on the calming feeling of your fingers instead, he tried to think of a reason. maybe you will break up with him? 

you both knew that with his lifestyle of a boxer it won’t be easy. you knew he wouldn’t give up on his passion and way of living but he promised you to stop being careless. 

your fingertips gently caressed the unharmed skin of his right cheek. then he felt a stinging sensation on the left onr, just where he got hit by someone’s fist. 

gunwook felt two or three fingers tucking his hair away from his forehead softly, followed by a feather light kiss on that spot. 

only then he realized it’s your way of speaking. the kiss meant ‘i love you’. the fingers tracing his nose gently to see if it’s broken shouted ‘you should’ve been more careful!’. a slightly wet smudge being smeared by shaking fingers right under his busted brow meant ‘i was worried’.

gunwook's eyes shot open and he realized you’re crying, crystal tears trickling down your face. 

“hey, it’s fine. i’m here now, i’m fine. look, i’m in one piece” he choked out and grabbed your hand to cup it against his right cheek. you just nodded your head, trying to silence the sobs “y/n…” 

you raised your other hand to your eyes, hiding your face into your elbow. 

“you’re so reckless” a muffled cry leaving your lips made his heart clench “and… and, it’s not even about the date anymore. i just wish i could fall asleep without worrying about you, about your life” 

you’re standing right in front of him, between his legs, shaking and crying. and gunwook felt helpless, also taken aback by your words. 

he knew you were worried about him but every time he’d miss a date because of his fights you would say you’re angry. angry because you didn’t get to go on it, angry because you wasted time preparing. 

now he just realized it was a lie. it was a cover up for your true feelings, for your energy draining and - so it seemed - endless worry. 

“you don’t have to worry about me, sunshine. i know i get home looking like something tan me over but i always win” gunwook hummed, his thumb tracing over your knuckles. you just shook your head, face still hidden in your elbow. 

your boyfriend moved his hands to your hips and pulled you down into his lap, ignoring the stinging bruises on his legs. 

instantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and started crying your heart out into his shoulder. his large, calloused from fighting, hands found its way to your back. rubbing it in soothing motions, gunwook gave you time to let it all out and eventually calm down. ignoring his own aching wounds (the biggest one being the red muscle clenching inside his ribcage), he let the time pass. 

finally you leaned away, eyes puffed. gunwook immediately gently cupped your face with one of his hands, wiping the wet traces after your crystal tears. 

“you didn’t answer your phone” a faint, barely audible, whisper escaped your lips. gunwook moved his thumb and wiped it over your upper lip. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking” he replied honestly, locking eyes with yours. 

“i know you love boxing, wookie. but promise me…” your voice trailed off, hand wrapping around his wrist. gunwook looked at you expectantly, already willing to agree on anything “promise me to come back home safely. to me. please” 

“i promise” your boyfriend hummed and sealed the promise with a long, passionate kiss. despite his aching body - and even more aching heart upon seeing your state - he put all of his energy and life force into that kiss. and you felt that. because if there was something gunwook was passionate about other than boxing, it was you; loving you.

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @haecien ,, @weird-bookworm

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"Yer not goin' out there," Daryl said. "Ya ain't. Ya dun even have a plan. Yer gonna get yerself killed."

You only continued shoving your gear into your pack. "It's not your decision, Daryl. And how many times have you done something just like this to save your family? Why are you allowed to do it and not me?"

"No," he said firmly. "I swear, I'll lock ya in here if I gotta!"

You finally looked up at him, the color high in your cheeks. "Don't treat me like a child! My mind is already made up!"

Daryl's voice was low but intense when he spoke again. "I ain't treatin' ya like a child. 'M treatin' ya like—like somebody I couldn't live without."

And that stopped you dead. Prompt: "Don't treat me like a child."

[g1rld1ary]

pushing it down and praying - ex! james potter x fem!reader

part 2 to let things go wc: 5935 cw: angst with some comfort, lots of crying, swearing, blood and cuts, toxic partners, kind of misogynistic speech? sex but not in graphic detail, pls lmk if i miss any me: has taken me a hot minute but part 2 is finally here! it ended up being so much longer than i expected so i assume there will probably be a part 3 at some point bc theres so much to explore with this dynamic

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Lily’s apartment was cozy but refined, absolutely perfect for her. You could see furniture and decorations you recognised from when she first got her place with Mary, but it was clear she’d grown up, and the flat had matured with her. Your heart clenched as you realised you’d missed it all.

Thankfully, Lily hadn’t commented on your absence, hadn’t made any snide remarks that you were crawling back because you had nowhere else to go. She just held you in a long embrace the second you walked through her door, rubbing your back softly as you began to cry again.

Remus was standing behind her, a pitiful frown on his face.

“Long time no see, love.” He pulled you towards him, his knitted sweater warm and soft against you.

“I’ve missed you,” You mumbled against his chest, holding him tighter until you were almost sure you weren’t going to bawl anymore.

Remus and Lily fussed around you until you were wrapped in a thick duvet, sitting on Lily’s couch with a steaming mug of tea.

You were glad you’d let everything out over the phone; it negated the necessity to explain it under their pitiful, sympathetic gazes. Instead, you let them both fill you in on their lives.

It seemed like everything had changed, yet was still exactly the same. The friendship group had stayed, but jobs, partners, and living arrangements had shifted and altered in the time you’d been away. You hung onto their every word, filling in the gaps that had slowly appeared over the years.

Then Lily asked you to return the favour. You hesitated, unsure of where to start. You started on something safe: your career. Objective achievements, a linear progression between positions and responsibilities. You told them about the hobbies you’d picked up and those which you’d long abandoned. Finally, you told them about your flat.

You described the shitty heating that only worked once every four or five days, meaning you had blankets ready on every surface just in case. You told them about the single square metre kitchen (only a slight exaggeration) where you had to contort yourself to open any of the cupboards, but how you turned it into a game and had even started to love it. You told them about your bedroom and the sanctuary it had become, with eccentric lamps you’d found antiquing and the same cozy bedspread you’d had since adolescence.

Speaking about your bed brought you back to thoughts of Adam, though, and you could feel your spirit sink again at the idea of him moving in. Remus and Lily exchanged concerned looks, unsure of how to broach the subject.

“So, Adam’s moving in?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Can I ask something that might be uncomfortable?” Lily continued at your nod, “You and Adam have been together for, what, a couple years now, and he still hasn’t moved in? What’s your hesitation?”

You looked around at both your friends for a long moment, feeling bile rise in the back of your throat. It was bitter and burned inside your mouth, echoing how you’d been feeling all day.

“I don’t know,” You croaked, staring daggers through your tea mug, “I mean I love him! I think. But, I just… I don’t know if I want to wake up next to him forever, you know? If he moves in, it feels like that’s it. It’s permanent.”

Lily looked at you in a way that was very familiar, eyebrows knitted together in pity. You kept your eyes anywhere but hers, carefully examining some of the framed photos on the wall.

“You know it’s okay to not want what someone tells you you’re supposed to, right?” Remus said, pulling a blanket over himself on a plush armchair. You nodded, duh, but really hearing it, you bit your lip.

“It’s just, like, it’s been years, right? He’s been asking to move in since before we hit a year, and it just feels like if we don’t do it now, then he’ll break up with me. And I don’t want that! I don’t think, or — or, I didn’t, but now things are extra weird and… Ugh.” You didn’t mean to ramble or reveal so much, but you were sure it wasn’t such a surprise after the previous events of the night, and the way that Remus and Lily had known you for a million years and were intimately familiar with your tells. Evidently, you hadn’t changed that much with Adam.

“Lovely, you can’t be making huge lifestyle changes just to hope that someone doesn’t break up with you. If Adam is really the one for you, he shouldn’t mind if you tell him you’re not ready for it yet.”

“Besides,” Lily added, “We’re all still young. It’s okay to just want to experience living alone in your twenties. There’s no timeline that you have to do anything.”

“Okay,” You nodded shakily, “I’ll tell him tomorrow that I’m not ready for him to move in, but that I want us to stay together. Maybe we can reevaluate or something in a few months?” You missed the look that Remus and Lily exchanged — not ideal, but it’s a start.

“That sounds good, honey.” Lily smiled, asking if you wanted any of the ice cream she had left in the freezer.

Ten minutes later, you were all chowing down on chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, giggling over much lighter subjects.

“Is Sirius still working on that bike?” You asked, remembering the broken-down motorcycle he’d bought for almost nothing right when you graduated. He’d still been trying to repair it the last time you saw him.

“It’s working now, he’s even managed to get it flying,” Lily replied with a smile.

“God help us all,” Remus interjected, shaking his head, which made you giggle.

“You’ll have to come round and see it sometime, it’s actually quite a good-looking bike. ‘Course we’re all scared half to death whenever he rides it, but you know Sirius can’t be dissuaded.”

You asked a few other questions — had Marlene made much progress with the electric guitar? Was Peter still the best in the group at chess? Then, quietly, nervously, you asked, “How’s James?”

They both paused before answering, clearly choosing words carefully.

“He’s good,” Remus said, “Still playing quidditch, of course, but he’s beginning to think of life outside of playing and branching out to other projects. Have you seen any games?”

You shook your head. “Not since… it ended. And Adam doesn’t know I’m a witch, so it’s just easier to tune out of it all.”

“Still?” Lily asked, disbelief clear in her raised eyebrows, “They’re at the top of the ladder this season anyway, maybe you can come over and watch a match one time if you’re not up to attending in person — they’ve finally caught up with muggle television.” Remus brought over one of the framed photos sitting beside the television as Lily spoke, clearly a recent one. James looked good, like always.

“Outside of work?” You poked, trying to talk around your point. Remus just raised an eyebrow. He always was too smart for his own good.

“He’s had a few short-term girlfriends, but nothing more than a few months. I think he’s looking to settle down, though.”

“He always wanted a family.” You nodded.

“As do you,” Lily said, though it sounded more like a challenge. You choked on your ice cream at the implication, shaking your head.

“I’m with Adam,” You confirmed, partly for yourself.

“Never said you weren’t” She held her hands up in surrender, “Just something to think about.”

The next night, you invited Adam over for a home-cooked dinner. An apology of sorts for the night before, and a softener for what was to come.

You sat across from him, pushing your pasta around the bowl as you tried to broach the subject. Adam was focused on his food, attacking the bowl like he had something to prove.

“So, um, I have to tell you something,” You said, fork scraping against the porcelain bowl.

“What?” More of a statement than a question, but you proceeded anyway.

“I don’t think we should move in together.” Adam’s head snapped up to face you, already clouding over with anger. “But I don’t think we should break up! Not at all, I want to be with you, I do. Just… I’m only getting started in my life, and I think I need to have this time where I’m figuring so much out to be okay with being alone and self-sufficient.”

“And you can’t figure that shit out with me in the flat?” He asked, unimpressed.

“It’s not about you, Adam,” You sighed, running a hand through your hair, “That’s the whole point. It’s about me. I want to be a fully formed woman, I need to know who I am in my soul before I attach my identity to yours!”

“I don’t get it, isn’t that the fucking point? This is a serious, grown-up relationship, is it not? What are you waiting for? Do you not love me, is that it?” It wasn’t like Adam was yelling or flipping tables or anything, but tears welled at your lash line, threatening to bubble over and down your cheeks.

“Can we just take a minute?” You begged, hands splayed out on the table like they were keeping you upright. “I don’t want this to be a fight.” Adam huffed but nodded, and you went to go sit in your bedroom while he took the couch as you both cooled off — well, Adam cooled off and you cried.

Your bedroom was still a mess from your attempts at cleaning out yesterday, but you sidestepped the piles of junk in order to throw yourself across your mattress, sobbing into the pillow as you clutched it tight between your arms.

It went exactly how you thought it would — Adam taking it overly personal and blowing up. He just didn’t get it. He’d already done all his figuring out by the time he’d even met you; he was almost thirty! Adam had his whole life planned out, and you were dragging him behind.

In your devastation, to your entire shame and disgrace, you began to think about James. What would your life be like now if you hadn’t broken up? Would you have moved in together by now? Or would you be resisting it like you were now? A memory struck you, one that had you crying harder.

You lay on James’ naked chest, hand softly playing with his curls. You’d both just lost your virginities and were basking in the post-sex haze in his bedroom over the summer holidays, shrouded in white sheets, orange sun rays filtering through the window.

“How long do you think we’ll be together for?” You asked, voice small, though you didn’t pull away from him. It was an insecure question, you knew, but it had been a vulnerable day.

“As long as you’ll have me,” James answered without hesitation, hand drawing gentle circles in the small of your back. You smiled, so big James could feel it against his skin.

“Will we get married?” You followed up, tracing his jawline featherlight.

“Somewhere gorgeous,” He replied, “In a garden with those flowers you like, the purple ones.”

“Sirius will be your best man, and Lily will be my maid of honour, and your mum will cry buckets.” You were both giggling, giddy in the way only teenagers in love can be.

“Will we have children?” He asked, pulling you so you were directly on top of him, the two of you nose to nose.

“Yes,” You paused to think, “Two or three maybe. One boy and two girls.”

“Sounds good to me, lovely. Can’t wait for forever.”

You were smiling through the tears, the nostalgic joy of the memory flooding through you. A knock at the door had the warmth seeping out of you, pulling you back to the moment you were living in. You made an affirmative noise, and Adam cracked the door open, looking a little like a kicked dog.

“I don’t want to fight, babe. I won’t move in yet.”

You managed a weak smile, nodding as you blinked a few times until your eyes were dry.

Adam sat next to you, the mattress dipping under him. He put an arm around you, your muscles tensing under his touch.

“It’s okay, babe. I get that you need time to grow up or whatever, but we love each other, so it’s fine. I can still stay over, right?”

“Yeah,” You hesitated, “Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” He said, leaning over to kiss you, “Because I couldn’t live without you.”

You let Adam kiss you, malleable under his direction. He pushed you back onto the mattress, and you let him slide your red woollen sweater over your head, kissing down your neck and collarbone.

Soon you were naked, lying still underneath Adam as he slid in and out of you, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. I love him, you told yourself, I love him. And so you kissed him, craning your neck to reach him, hoping he couldn’t see written on your face what was creeping into your heart.

You closed your eyes, a big mistake. In your head, instead of Adam fucking you it was James, his doe eyes boring into your own. Fuck, you wanted to feel guilty. You knew it was wrong, Adam was your boyfriend. Not James. James hadn’t been your boyfriend for years.

And yet, you didn’t feel guilty that you were fantasising about your ex whilst you were actively having sex with your current boyfriend. In fact, you’d just started feeling good. Your back arched up into Adam’s chest as you moaned, “Fuck, touch me.” You fell just short of crying James’ name, thank god.

Adam finished, collapsing on top of you and wrapping his arms around your middle.

“Love you,” He mumbled, holding you tighter.

“Yeah,” You whispered, rolling onto your side, “You too.”

You were still awake an hour later, staring at the wall, bathed in silver light from the moon outside the window. On your nightstand stood two framed photos, one of you and Adam early in your relationship, his arms around you as you both stood in a nightclub, wide smiles on both your faces. The second was of your Hogwarts friends when you were much younger, at Remus’s sixteenth birthday party.

You were all squished around the armchair that Remus sat in, a crooked birthday crown sitting on his hair. You were next to James but your arms rested on Remus’ shoulders so it wasn’t obvious that you guys were a couple at that time — but you knew his hand was resting on your arse behind the back of the seat. If Adam was privy to that knowledge, then you knew the photo would have been thrown away years ago.

You couldn’t help staring at James. He looked the same as he did when you broke up, bright grin and mischief in his eyes. His glasses were crooked across his nose, you remember reaching up to adjust them after the picture was taken. You missed him; you couldn’t deny that to yourself. But it wasn’t romantic, you reasoned, just nostalgia spurred on by the past few days. You only pictured him instead of Adam because it was an experience you were used to, no other reason. You repeated that mantra until you fell into an unsatisfying sleep.

A few weeks passed, and you were making a conceited effort to stay in touch with your old friends. At first, it was just Lily and Remus, confident in knowing that they still liked you. But eventually, you reached out to the rest of the girls too, pushing through an awkward coffee date to reestablish your previous connection. You hadn’t reached out to Sirius yet, and you knew you’d never contact James, but you were content that you were taking steps to bring back the old part of your life.

“I’m off,” You said one evening, pulling on your coat, “Headed to the pub with Lily and some of the girls.”

“Since when are you hanging out with them?” Adam asked, looking up from the football match he was watching on your couch.

“Just recently,” You answered blithely, “I realised I hadn’t seen them in forever! Crazy.” You purposefully left out any suggestion that it was Adam’s doing; it would just cause another fight.

“I thought you didn’t like them anymore? Remember you said they were too immature?”

“I didn’t—” You cut yourself off, shrinking in shame when you recalled the moments the words left your mouth, trying desperately to seem cool in front of Adam’s older friends. “Well, um, you know. It’s been a couple years, maybe they’ve changed.” You slipped out the door before Adam could say anything else about it.

Later that night, or earlier the next morning, you stumbled in, blissful from a night of laughter and dancing with your friends, just like when you were younger. You didn’t expect to see Adam still up, a sitcom rerun playing, but he clearly wasn’t watching.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, standing.

“I told you, out with the girls.”

“Til two in the morning?” He took a step towards you, and you headed towards your bedroom.

“We went dancing.”

“Great, so you were probably grinding on some other fuckin’ guy,” He huffed, and you hurried over to him, a soft hand on his bicep.

“I would never! Adam, you’re my boyfriend.”

“Prove that you love me.”

You were beginning to have a problem. Lying naked in bed, Adam inside you, yet you couldn’t enjoy it unless you were picturing James instead. You had to imagine it was James’ lightly calloused fingers running up and down your sides to derive any pleasure from it.

And still, you couldn’t feel guilty, because when you closed your eyes and James’ kind smile replaced Adam’s, you’re insides finally ignited, giving you a release you’d been waiting for. The same which convinced Adam you hadn’t cheated on him. Funny how that works.

Things were shaky, but mostly alright, for a few more weeks. You saw your friends when you could, but tried not to bring it up very much in front of Adam. He got moodier every time you mentioned them. Snide comments, subtle insults, you had no idea why he hated them so much.

It all came to a head a few weeks later.

“I’m off to lunch, you can stay here if you’d like,” You said, applying your mascara in the hallway mirror.

“And I wonder who you’re going out with.” He rolled his eyes with a huff.

“It’s Remus’ birthday,” You pleaded, “I have to go.”

“But Remus hates me, how could you be friends with someone who hates your boyfriend?”

“He doesn’t hate you.” He does. “Besides, it’s his birthday, and it’s just lunch. I can’t miss it.”

“Fine, whatever. I just can’t believe you’re choosing them over me.” Adam turned back to the television, your shoulders slumping as you sighed, hand making its way up to your forehead.

“I’m not choosing either of you — whatever, I’ll be back in a few hours. Let yourself out.”

At your lunch, you recounted the story to your friends with a casual air, scolding Remus when he interjected with a deadpan “I do hate him.”

“He’s really not that bad, Remus. He’s just not maybe your kind of guy.”

“He’s no one’s type of guy,” Marlene snorted, “He’s barely a man. Six years older than you and acting like a child.”

“Come on, guys,” You sighed with a small smile, “We’re here for Remus, not to rag on my boyfriend.”

The conversation moved on to lighter subjects, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling that maybe your friends had a point. It wasn’t like they would lie to you, right? Surely if all of them thought Adam wasn’t right for you, there was some truth to the statement.

You figured it was an issue you’d deliberate over when you were home alone, not when you were in the company of friends.

Even Sirius was there, giving you a long embrace when you reunited, though the energy between you wasn’t as effortless as it had been in the past — you couldn’t blame him. You were told James couldn’t make it because of quidditch training, but Remus said he saw James enough that it didn’t really matter whether or not he was there for the official celebration.

You stumbled along the path with Mary, who lived nearby, giggling as you’d perhaps gone overboard at bottomless lunch. You were unaware of Adam still in the apartment, watching you with contempt from your front window, three stories up.

“See me soon, okay?” Mary made you pinky promise, kissing you on both cheeks.

“Of course, we’ll go see that movie you were talking about — the one about the cowboys.” You nodded eagerly, squeezing her hand as you turned towards your door.

You fumbled with the keys, missing the slot two or three times before pushing into your flat. To your surprise, instead of the tranquil apartment you were expecting, Adam was standing in the middle of your open plan area, clutching something tightly in his hand.

“Hey,” You said lightly, stepping closer. You could finally make out James’ postcard wrinkling under Adam’s grip, and your face fell. Looking over, your room was in disarray, your memory boxes strewn across the floor.

“What the fuck is this?” He held up the postcard, practically vibrating in his fury.

“Adam…”

“No, what the fuck is this? How can you possibly defend having all this just sitting in your bedroom?”

“Adam, it’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think? You’ve got boxes full of shit from your ex-boyfriend, how can there be any other explanation?”

“It’s stuff from my friends too, it’s just from my school years!” You tried to defend yourself.

“Don’t lie to me!” Adam yelled, and you faltered, shrinking away from him. “You’re still fucking in love with him, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” You protested, tears welling in your eyes.

“You know, my friends all told me you weren’t worth it. That you were immature and hung up on that dick, that I was dating below my league. But I defended you, said you were mature for your age, that you were cool. And this is how you fucking thank me? By emotionally cheating on me with your fucking teenage boyfriend? You’re just a pathetic girl.”

You could only watch, paralysed, as Adam ripped up the postcard, tossing it to the floor. A fat tear rolled down your cheek.

“Adam, please, can we just talk about this, it’s not like that!”

“Talk about what? That I’ve given you years of love just for you to run back to some washed up high school jock you dated when you were sixteen?”

“I haven’t seen James in years!” You yelled over him desperately, sobs wracking through your body.

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’ll treat you like a child. I’m fucking done.” Adam stormed past you, pausing only to throw your framed graduation photo on the floor, the glass of the frame shattering into a thousand pieces at your feet.

The door closed with a violent slam, and you sank to the floor, hardly noticing the shards of glass tearing up the skin of your knees. You clutched the remnants of the photo, too distraught to care about the blood dripping from your hands as you grasped the ruined frame hopelessly.

You cried for what felt like hours, alone in your dark apartment, unable to gather the energy to even switch on a lamp. It was only when you had no tears left to cry that you pushed yourself up onto shaky legs, stumbling out of your flat in a daze.

You wandered down the streets, limping from where a particularly deep cut had sliced into the join of your knee. You weren’t bothered by the disturbed stares of passersby, too emotionally drained to even be self-conscious.

You didn’t stop until you were standing at Lily’s doorstep, weak hand extending to the doorbell.

Inside, the gang had continued Remus’ birthday celebrations, everyone giggling over wine and a Bowie record. When the doorbell rang, clear and piercing even through the joyous noise, no one expected the visitor waiting to be let in.

Of course, it was Lily who opened the door, gasping in horror as she took you in, grabbing the attention of the rest of the party.

You stood in the doorway, mascara running down your cheeks, your hair a mess. You were still wearing the mini skirt and blouse you’d worn to lunch, but your bare shins were covered in blood, matching your hands, from where you’d been cut up by glass shards.

Lily ushered you in, and you followed her numbly down the entrance way toward your friends.

“Hey,” You croaked, voice rough from harsh sobs.

They all spoke at once, questions of what happened and whether you were okay, exclamations of horror at your sorry state.

“Did he do this to you?” Sirius asked, and no one had to clarify who ‘he’ was.

“No,” You shook your head, “Not directly.”

“We need to get you cleaned up,” Lily said, comforting hand warm on your back. For the first time, though, you’d noticed James.

He looked the same, yet entirely different. The years had changed him for the better. James had grown into his features, strong jawline just dusted with a five o’clock shadow. His curls had grown out slightly, sitting just below his ears, but his glasses were still crooked on his face, just as you remembered them always being.

Right now, though, his face was far from the sunny, mischievous expression you were used to seeing. As you locked eyes for the first time in years, conflict was clear on James’ face. You were sure yours was exactly the same.

“Uh, come on.” Lily pulled you gently, leading you along to the bathroom. By the time you arrived, you were crying again.

Lily didn’t question you as she sat you on the closed toilet lid, letting you silently cry as she wet an old rag. There was a knock at the bathroom door, just two quick ones which echoed against the tiles. Lily cracked the door open, a slight gasp escaping her as she came face to face with James.

“What are you doing?” She asked softly, a hand reaching out to comfort him. There was no reason he should be coming after you.

“I’m the only one here with any first aid training,” He replied, studiously avoiding you, “Glass is trickier than a plan cut.”

“Oh, ok,” Lily nodded, “Do you want me to stay?” She whispered, and you pretended you couldn’t hear despite the three of you all occupying the same square metre. James shook his head, and they swapped places, Lily giving him a long look before leaving you two alone.

James didn’t say anything at first, simply taking the rag that Lily had left in the sink, wringing it out so it wasn’t dripping, before making his way over to you. You didn’t make eye contact.

“I’ll just clean off the dried blood first, shouldn’t hurt too bad.” James’ voice was more gruff than you remembered, but maybe that was because he was with you. You didn’t say anything, but gave him a small nod.

James started with your knees, pressing the rag lower on your shins where the blood had run to. That part didn’t hurt, so you sat in silence, the only reprieve coming from the music floating softly from the living room. The bathroom door was only open a crack, closing by itself in the movement before.

“What are you holding?” He broke the silence. You looked down, snapping out of a daze. You didn’t have the words to describe the picture without absolutely sounding weird or talking yourself into a hole, so you just held it out for him to inspect.

James took it from you, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges. You watched in real time as his eyes softened, the beginnings of a smile twitching at his lips as he examined it.

“From graduation?” He asked. You nodded, your own smile threatening your lips.

“It made me happy every time I looked at it; I had to keep it.”

You locked eyes, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed, that you were both freshly out of school and in love. Then, in an instant, you were both back in the present moment. You both averted your eyes quickly, examining your injuries.

“Um, this part’ll hurt. I would do it with magic, but honestly, the glass kinda stresses me out, I’d rather just do it by hand.”

James dug around in Lily’s bathroom cabinet until he found a pair of tweezers, and you winced before he’d even approached with them.

It took fifteen minutes for James to fish all the shards out of your knee, the only sound being your whimpers and James’ quiet apologies.

“You ready for the hand, or do you wanna take a break?” He asked softly, still not looking at you.

“No, do it. I just want this whole nightmare to be over.”

You whimpered as the tweezers fished around in your cut, screwing your eyes shut tight as you tried to stay still.

“It’s almost over, love, you’re alright,” James said, before visibly remembering where he was and becoming serious once again, “Uh, I’ll be quick.” You didn’t say anything, too focused on trying not to jerk away from James’ intrusions.

James pulled out a bandage and some rubbing alcohol, preparing to treat the wounds. You hissed as James cleaned the wound, the alcohol burning inside the raw flesh. He put a hand on your thigh to comfort you out of past habit, thumb caressing the skin gently.

He wrapped your hand up in the bandage, touch soft though you still weren’t talking.

At long last, you were finished, yet James didn’t move from in front of you. You stared at each other, years of unsaid feelings coming to the surface.

“Did he hurt you?” James asked, tone low and dangerously controlled.

“He didn’t do this.” You looked down at your bandaged hand and knees.

James just nodded curtly, clearly satisfied that he didn’t have to go kill a man. He stood, holding the door open politely so you could rejoin the others.

You took a seat next to Remus on the sofa, smiling weakly when he put a comforting hand on your thigh.

“Do you wanna tell us what happened, honey?” Mary asked sweetly, bringing you a tea from the kitchen.

“I don’t know, it seems so stupid now…” You recounted the afternoon anyway, tears burning behind your eyes. Your friends all looked to be in various states of shock and horror as you told them what Adam said to you.

“You’re acting like a child? Be fucking for real,” Remus snapped to no one in particular.

“So what now?” Marlene asked.

“Well, ‘I’m fucking done’ was quite clear. We’re broken up.” You didn’t look at James, too afraid of his reaction.

There was a moment of silence in the room before your friends erupted in thunderous applause, hooting and hollering as Lily fetched a bottle of champagne from the kitchen. James didn’t partake in the external celebrations; in fact, you couldn’t read his face at all.

Still, when a bubbling glass was handed to you with an accompanying congratulations, you couldn’t help but smile through your upset.

“Our girl is free!” Sirius sang, draping himself across Remus to cheers your glass, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek.

“Shove off,” You laughed despite yourself, “I’ve just been dumped, you dick.”

“Yeah, by a man who we’ve been hoping you would see the light and break up with for years!” Mary cackled, and you giggled, the bubbles already floating up to your head through your bloodstream.

“Where do you go from here, practically?” Lily asked kindly, always the one to be thinking pragmatically.

“Well, thank god he didn’t move in, so I don’t have to deal with any lease stuff. Honestly, the only thing I lose is his friends, but they never liked me anyway. They thought I was immature, or too much or whatever.”

“So literally no loss,” Remus said casually, “You’re better off, even. Though we could have told you that after the first date.”

“Hindsight’s 20/20, right?” You said weakly, revelling at least in your friend’s laughter. “Lils, would it be possible for me to stay here tonight? There’s still a bunch of Adam’s stuff in my flat that I couldn’t bear to look at tonight.” Lily agreed in a heartbeat, of course.

The night wore down, and your friends all eventually set off for their own homes. You were mostly left with congratulations and celebratory hugs, but you stood in front of James as he set off for the door, tension thickening before your eyes.

“Thank you for helping me,” You said earnestly.

“It’s no problem, wouldn’t want you to have to deal with a messy breakup and glass embedding in your body,” He tentatively joked, the new dynamic between you entirely unexplored.

“It was really nice to see you, James.”

“Yeah,” He hesitated, “Yeah, you too. You deserve so much more than that jerk ever gave you.”

With that, he walked off, leaving you stunned and conflicted in the middle of Lily’s living room.

Half an hour later, you were lying beside Lily in her double bed, the moment feeling perfectly like you were having your childhood sleepovers again.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” You whispered, squeezing Lily’s hand under the covers.

“Anytime, you know that.”

“Thanks for letting me come back.” You both paused, the weight of what you’d let happen over the years sinking in. You’d missed so much. Nobody was the same as they were, including you.

“This is your chance, my love. Figure out who you are. Not who he wants you to be.”

[moonlitenvyillust]

Epic Telemachus HC's because i am bored and i cant post any drawings of him (yet) because i havent finished his design

|• He draws alot to pass his time. Before the suitors came, he used to draw designs for Penelope to weave. Which resulted into his scarf, the last thing she weaved for him before she had to make the shroud bluff

|• Telemachus, every year, makes a hyper realistic drawing of him, his mother, and his father while waiting. Why? Because one, he needs something to pass the time. Two, he wants to get better. But on the other hand, its never finished. Because he doesnt know how his father looks.

|• he's actually a master of sarcasm™ and Vicious mockery™ but locked in during little wolf because he knows he cant bitch tongue his way out of this one

|• he has long hair and ties it up. Fight me.

|• growing up with drunk suitors around, he does not know romantic love. But he is oh so very aware of lust. To him, because of lack of understanding and lack of anyone teaching him about it, he sees lust and love as two very similar things. And listening into his parents in WYFILWMA he is contemplimenting wether or not he should barge in and stop anything from happening

|• self esteem issues from the suitor's. Oh come on i cant be the only one that sees this???

|• you've seen Trans!Telemachus headcannons. Now i propose, genderfluid!Telemachus. Gender is a social construct. Fuck you

|• remember the scarf i mentioned in the first point? Telemachus wears that thing EVERYWHERE. and he refuses to take it off. A reminder of who he is and who he thrives to keep safe

|• he has His mother's eye shape but with Odysseus's sharpness. Does that make sense? No? Yeah ill post a drawing of their eyes later idk

|• he needs friends everyone. His only friend all his life is a fucking dog (no hate to Argos he's amazing)

|• inherted some of Penelope's naiad-like features. Really good swimmer. Fight me. (How many Times had i said fight me in this post?)

|• his Naivete is his weapon. He uses how he seems like an innocent boy as an advantage for a long time. But it kinda shattered during little wolf.

|• Peisisarus was his gay awakening. And Nausicaa was his Bi awakening. Guess what he decided on? Date both. And both decided hell to the yeah

|• when training with Athena, she realized how much and how little he resembled his father.

|• Athena suggested he used a spear, because he seems to be better at is (she meant a sword is too heavy for him!)

|• remember his Athena cosplay during Odysseus? Yeah. Thats a magical girl transformation and his "diplomatic mission" was him meeting Peisisarus and Nausicaa and also his magical girl training arc/hj

|• Telemachus never needed "the talk". Listening to whatever drunken blabbers the suitors had gave him understanding. From that he hated sex and shit. But he got the talk anyways

|• During his time with the suitors, he was almost taken advantage of. But he was lucky enough to escape.

|• also in that time period, watching those men get drunk gives him a hatred to any type of alcohol. He refuses to take more than half a cup of wine.

|• Telemachus tries, he really does. But nightmares always comes and he just feels the need to guard his mother's Doors again. And when he Heard noises from inside, he goes batshit and feels anxiety, sadness, and dissapointment in himself. Until Odysseus walks out hearing him and gives him hugs

[potatoplace]

We Can Fix This

Poly!Feysand x Reader

We Can Do This (part 1) | We Can Do This Together (part 3)

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: You get a bad haircut. You're four months pregnant. It's a rough day. But with Feyre and Rhys around? It's not so tough.

Warnings: none I don't think? Just a baaad haircut

Words: ~1.7k

Author's Note: It's heeeere the fic inspired by my own horrible haircut. Of course, I wasn't given micro bangs... I hope you all like it! Also I've been so happy to hear other peoples bad haircut stories, it's made me feel less alone in hating my own. Love you guys! Enjoy! 🫶

18+ only pls

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You couldn't stop crying.

Not even with your phone buzzing non-stop for the past half hour, calls and texts pouring in from two different numbers.

You hadn't been able to move yourself from where you'd collapsed on the couch, your face buried in a pillow as you sobbed, a hand clenched in your hair and the other on the small bump of your stomach.

You weren't sure exactly how long you'd been laying there when knocks landed on your front door, gentle the first time, but growing more and more frantic by the second.

"Y/N?" A voice called through the door. "Y/N, are you in there?" They waited for a moment, likely hoping for a reply, but all you could manage was more sobs spilling from your lips. "I'm going to unlock the door."

You heard the lock turn and the slight squeak of the hinges, but didn't move an inch.

"Y/N?" Feyre asked, and you heard a quiet gasp. "Y/N are you okay?!" She asked frantically, her heels clicking quickly on the floor as she crossed the living room and rounded the couch to stand in front of you. You only cried harder, pressing your face further into the pillow.

You didn't want her to see you like this.

"Love, I need you to tell me if something is wrong. Are you hurt?" Feyre's gentle hands were smoothing over your back, one of them carding through your hair.

Your short, shoulder length hair.

The action only renewed your tears, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Please, Y/N, just tell me if you need me to take you to the hospital," Feyre begged, her hands now attempting to roll you onto your side, so she could see your face. You pushed against her, unwilling to move your face from where it was covered. She sighed heavily, and stopped trying to move you. "Just nod for me, love, yes or no. Do you need to see a doctor?"

You shook your head.

Not a doctor doctor. Maybe a psychiatrist, seeing as you were having a breakdown.

A breakdown over something as simple as a haircut...

You sobbed again, absolutely distraught at the state of your hair. You couldn't believe that your beautiful, long hair was now chopped to your shoulders. Already, you felt ugly and unfeminine, and you'd had the cut for less than a day.

"Okay, that's good at least..." Feyre said, her voice sad and quiet. "Will you let me hug you?" You shook your head again. "Hmm... I'll be back in just a second, love."

You heard her get up, the noise of a zipper, and a hushed conversation. It was likely that Feyre had called Rhys, which only made your tears pour out more quickly.

No one should see your hair like this, especially not them. They'd been so perfect with you, with everything surrounding the pregnancy. Taking you to doctor's appointments weekly, bringing you fresh groceries twice a week and cooking for you, making sure to text or call you to remind you to take your vitamins if they couldn't see you that day.

No, they didn't deserve to see how hideous you were, when they'd been so lovely. And they both had such gorgeous hair...

"Love, can you look at me?" Feyre asked softly in your ear when she returned to your side. You shook your head- the worst of it was your face. She sighed, and placed a gentle kiss to the back of your head. "Okay."

Feyre pulled the pillow out from under your face, and you made a discontented noise, your hands grasping for the fabric before it was taken from you. You pressed your face down into the couch, but a moment later, Feyre had lifted it up and slid onto the couch, laying your head in her lap.

"You don't have to explain anything, darling, just lay here, okay? Cry as much as you need," Feyre cooed, her left hand stroking gently over your back, her right carding through your hair. "I'll be here as long as you need."

You nuzzled your face into her lap, cheek brushing against the smooth, silky fabric.

Oh.

"Don't you..." The first words came out like a croak, and you paused to clear your throat. "Don't you still have the charity gala to get to?"

"They'll be just fine without me, sweetness, I'm perfect right where I am."

You sniffled. Maybe... If she was going to miss the event because of you... Maybe you could show her, so she wouldn't be wasting her time...

You gave yourself a few more minutes to let the tears pour out before you took a few deep breaths, then pushed yourself up, so you could rest your head on Feyre's shoulder.

"Hi, pretty girl," Feyre said shortly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, brushing the bangs on your head. Tears leaked from your eyes again at the remind of how your hair had been butchered. "Is this what's bothering you?" Feyre asked, a finger brushing against the tiny hairs covering part of your forehead. You managed a twitch of your head up and down before burying your face in her shoulder. "Oh, sweetness, I'm so sorry. Come here." Feyre pulled you onto her lap, her arms wrapping tightly around you.

You cried into her neck, tears falling onto her skin with each passing minute that you stayed there. Her hand continued to stroke your back and arm, so gentle and soft.

You'd nearly stopped crying entirely by the time your front door swung open again, a concerned Rhysand bursting through it.

"What's happened?" He asked, his tone carrying an underlying panic as he rounded the couch, taking in the sight of you curled into Feyre's body, her arms holding you against her while you buried your face further into her neck. "Are you alright, darling?"

Feyre tried for a moment to pull your face from her neck, with no luck. Instead, she pressed a kiss to the side of your head before mouthing something at Rhys, her free hand playing in your hair for a moment.

"Ah," Rhys said quietly before sitting down, angling his body so he was covering your back, his arms wrapping around you and Feyre. "I'm sorry, little love," he murmured into your hair, pressing gentle kisses along the back of your skull.

The three of you stayed there for a while, their soothing touches calming you down and nearly causing you to drift off, relaxing into their holds completely.

You were brought back to awareness by Rhys's large hand rubbing soft circles against your belly, and Feyre pressing her lips to your cheeks.

"Hey there, love," Feyre smiled at you, her eyes gentle. "Do you feel like telling us what happened?"

You sniffled but nodded your head. "I uhm... I wanted to cut a haircut for the gala tonight, so I'd booked with my usual hairstylist, but uhm..." You sniffed again, trying to hold back your tears, focusing on the feel of Rhys's hand. "She was out sick, so they gave me to another stylist. And she uhm... She... She butchered my hair," you cried, the tears trickling down your cheeks once more. "I told her I just wanted a trim and curtain bangs and..." You buried your face in Feyre's neck again.

"Oh, little love," Rhys cooed softly in your ear. "I'm so sorry, I know how much you love your hair."

And you did. Your beautiful, silky hair that had passed your waist this morning was your favorite feature you possessed, and haircare was of the few things you splurged on for yourself.

"Can I take a look, darling?" Rhys asked carefully from behind you, his hands poised on your shoulders to peel you away from Feyre, but you knew he wouldn't try unless you said yes.

"I don't want you to..." You whined into Feyre's skin, and she let out a soft chuckle.

"He's going to see at some point, love, and really, you're still absolutely gorgeous. I promise," Feyre reassured you, her soft hands running through your hair.

... She had a point, you supposed. So you let Rhys pull you away from Feyre a bit, albeit reluctantly.

Getting you to look at him was another story, and after a moment Rhys simply got in his knees in front of you and Feyre, capturing your face in his hands.

"Feyre's right, darling, you're absolutely flawless," he said with a charming smile, the one that sent butterflies through you, even now, four months after you'd first met them. "But, if you're up for it... I think we can fix this," he offered. Your face scrunched up at the idea of anyone touching your hair ever again. "Now, now. It won't be what you initially wanted, but I can give you some longer bangs to cover the ones you have now. And try to get you closer to the style you had before. How does that sound?" Rhys asked softly, his eyes sparkling.

You pouted at him while you considered it, and he put a thumb on your lower lip, tugging lightly on it. "Do you know how to cut hair?" You finally asked, giggling when he didn't relinquish his grip on your lip.

"My mother was a fantastic hairdresser, she taught me how to cut her hair when I was a child. Including bangs," he added.

You looked away poutily for a moment before meeting his violet gaze once more. "Okay..."

Rhys smiled at you, and your heart skipped a beat. "Good. I'll just need to buy some scissors or-" he paused, reaching into his pocket for his phone. "I'll have them delivered. That way I can keep making you feel better."

"We can keep making her feel better," Feyre added, and when you turned to look at her, you saw her glaring playfully at Rhys. "Now, do you have any food you want? Any cravings or desires? We can make it a fun night in, after all, those charity galas are such a bore. The only fun part of it was going to be seeing you in the gown we'd picked out," Feyre said, squeezing you against her again.

Now that she mentioned it...

"Funyuns sound really good... And cheesecake. And- Oh! Orange chicken!"

Feyre giggled against your neck. "Rhys? You get all that?"

"Of course, darling. Is there anything else you'd like, little love?" Rhys asked you patiently as he found everything you'd listed.

"Mm... Can we watch cheesy romcoms too?"

"For you? Anything."

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General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao