#I dug this out of my drafts to post before tomorrow

[secretmellowblog]

I actually don’t think it’s true to say Hugo “intended” for Javert to be Romani. I admit my own feelings on this have changed over the years. :( The thing that was the final nail in the coffin to “this was almost certainly not *Hugo’s* original intent” was when I listened to a talk from a person studying race in Les Mis and they addressed Romani Javert specifically. It really feels like the more you study the passages that people pick to support this interpretation, the more the claim this was “definitely Hugo’s intent” seems to hold less water.

To be clear I don’t think Hugo’s intent is the be-all end-all, and that people can reinterpret things, and that reinterpretation is good. I also think people can reasonably disagree on translation/interpretation. but if we’re talking about the original intent….

If you read any other of Hugo’s works, there is never this level of ambiguity when he is trying to indicate a character is Romani. He is especially never this ambiguous when a character is dark-skinned enough to not pass as white. He is explicit. (And he’s racist. Hugo sucked.) Romani characters in other Hugo novels both before and after Les Mis are basically always explicitly said to be Romani, in a way that Javert never ever is.

Even in Les Mis we see a handful a characters who are supposed to be nonwhite, and it’s always very explicit. Hugo was racist and also very unsubtle.

The passage people usually cite as proof Hugo intended Javert to be Romani are two lines in his backstory— one saying that his mother was a fortune teller, the other saying that he’d come to hate “the race of bohemians from which he’d sprung.”

There are two words commonly used for “bohemian” in French. one is usually is used for the race of Romani people and the other usually used as a general adjective. Apparently the term that Hugo uses here is the one that is more commonly used as a general adjective. Saying “this passage is meant to clearly explicitly indicate he is Romani” seems to me like it’s mistranslating it; at best, it seems like you can argue there is possibly some intentional ambiguity.

Later on we also get a description of Cosette that describes her as “the bohemian who walks barefoot,” and the word for bohemian used in that passage is actually the French word that’s more associated with the race. (It’s being used in that context in the racist way people use g*psy as an adjective.) But people are far less likely to interpret dainty innocent Cosette as Romani compared to “violent” “brutal” and “savage” Javert who “hates his own race.”

The “fortune teller” mother could play into bigoted Romani stereotypes— but it could also into bigoted stereotypes about poor/lower class people, which often broadly overlap. Because of racism a lot of the way characters are coded as lower class/being on the fringes of society, and coded as Romani, broadly overlapped.

And “race” is being used in a more general sense here to refer to class, the way Hugo uses it often.

None of the early adaptations of Les Mis go with the Romani Javert interpretation. I can’t find old reviews that mention it. To me this indicates this isn’t what people at the time would’ve gotten out of the story either, especially because Hugo doesn’t seem to have gone on the record about people missing it. And again if you contrast that with other Hugo novels, where reviewers and adaptations DO all get which characters are meant to be read as Romani..:it just doesn’t seem to hold water that this was definitely what an audience was supposed to get from it.

And even if this was Hugo’s intent (and I don’t think it was)….well then it’s a catastrophic failure? Then it’s very Badly Written and shallow and horribly handled?

Because Les Mis is about how people with different kinds of marginalization face very different specific challenges. A character’s gender, class, level of education, criminal record, age, etc etc etc all affect the way that they’re treated and there’s lots of explicit discussion of that constantly.

So if Javert was intended by Hugo to Romani, and especially if he was supposed to be visibly nonwhite— well then it’s a failure of the narrative because Hugo never does any deep research or analysis of how his race would actually affect his life. Even in the very racist and bad novel Notre Dame De Paris/the Hunchback Of Notre Dame, there is explicit discussion of the way being Romani affects the character’s lives and how they’re treated in a way that we never ever ever see with Javert. It’s poorly handled and racist, but it’s there.

But if you want any of that explicit discussion about race to be in Les Mis you have to do the research and add it yourself, because it is just…Not There.

There’s no discussion of Romani culture and Javert’s distance from it, there are no scenes showing the way Javert interacts with other Romani people, there’s no explicit discussion of actual Roma people at all really, and (if Javert’s meant to be read as someone who doesn’t pass as white) theres no discussion of the way being visibly nonwhite would affect his life in such a deeply racist society. literally none of that is there. If Javert is supposed to be Romani there is an utter lack of care paid to how that would actually affect him and the way he’s marginalized, in a way you don’t see with how Hugo handles gender or class.

Again to me it seems like if Hugo intended for Javert to be Explicitly Definitely Roma, we would know; if he intended for him to visibly nonwhite, we would definitely know.It’s not just that the way he codes Javert doesn’t resemble the way he handles Romani characters in other books… it’s also that it doesn’t resemble the level of detail/care he usually pays to Exactly what background each character comes from and Exactly how it affects their lives.

It seems like what fans often do is take Javert’s internalized classism and label that as “internalized racism?” But I feel that while there are similarities because “class” in the 19th century was often treated as something immutable and biological, and classes were often described as a “race”, they’re really not the same thing.

And like, I’m not here to tell people what to do! people can reinterpret things how they want and bring their own takes on the story. Hugo sucked and was shitty and racist. A lot of my favorite Les Mis fanfics are one that take characters Hugo probably intended to be white and reinterpret them as POC, doing research into how that would’ve affected their experiences. But at the same time….

Many other people before me have pointed out that there is a Trend to which characters in which Les Mis tend to be more commonly reinterpreted as POC. There is a reason why “savage” “violent” oppressive cop Javert was played by a black actor on broadway years before we got our first black Valjean.

As someone who used to have this interpretation, I think Javert is a challenging character to attempt to reinterpret as a POC (without massive changes to his characterization) if you’re doing it for “good diverse representation” because he just, sucks so badly. Especially if he’s written as the only POC in the cast, he’s just a mess. He’s described as violent. As beast-like. He’s a bigoted cop. He’s brutal. He’s hideously ugly. He canonically refuses to think because he hates thinking. He hates the “race” (meaning class of poor people) he comes from. Every time we see him he’s compared to a savage animal. And yeah that’s …a lot of baggage! He is a character made entirely of baggage. And adaptations like BBC Les mis show the kind of uncomfortable racism that ends up being brought to the surface when Javert is one of the few main POC in the cast.

But yeah. TL:DR; There is ambiguity in Javert’s initial description, and I see why people have this interpretation. I think people can reasonably disagree on it. But over the years I’ve come down on the side of, it’s a bit misleading to say this is Definitely Clearly Exactly Canonically what Hugo intended and that adaptations/fans are whitewashing him.

To be clear I also think that reinterpreting characters is great and good! And that reinterpreting characters as POC, doing the research that Hugo didn’t, is especially good! but also that Javert in particular is a problematic hornet’s nest of unfortunate implications that kinda have to be managed, and that whether you disagree that this was “Hugo’s intent” or not there’s a massive gap in the story when it comes to discussing race that would sorta need to be filled with outside research.

[zablife]

Fragile Things

Jack Nelson x female reader

Author's Note: Written from an anon ask I can't find in my inbox anymore, requesting some soft, smutty Jack thru the seasons. It turned angsty at the end as I listened to "Munich" by the Editors, but I hope you still enjoy it! It's short with an open ending, but I thought I'd post it instead of letting it sit in my drafts any longer.

Warnings: hint of smut, mention of cheating

The open window blew a gentle spring breeze into the room along with the scent of lilacs you’d planted in the fall. You’d kept busy those dark months as Jack traveled, trying not to think what might happen if he never returned. It hadn’t been easy to calm yourself in the early days, whispering prayers into the wind. Your unsteady hands craved his touch upon your shoulder tethering you to reality. Without it, you felt as though you might float away. Sometimes you still found it difficult if he went too long without visiting.

But he’s here now, you thought as you gazed up at him, memorizing every golden fleck in his bright green irises. The feeling of his arms caging your upper body protectively was comforting and you dug your heels against the backs of his thighs, urging him nearer to your aching core. He pushed you further into the mattress with a deep stroke of his pelvis, full lips brushing yours before licking into your mouth hungrily. It was the first time your mind had truly quieted in weeks.

As you came down from your high, you whimpered at the loss of him as he withdrew from your body, rolling onto his back with a contented sigh. He reached for you with one arm, beckoning you to his side and you nuzzled into him. His fingers carded through your hair, massaging your scalp and tangling in your disheveled locks. You pressed your cheek against his bare chest to feel the rhythm of his heart, allowing it to lull you to sleep when he suddenly spoke. 

“Gotta go to New York tomorrow, doll,” he whispered on an exhale of breath. Closing your eyes against the tears threatening to fall, you snaked a hand around his waist possessively. It had only been two days since his return and the thought of him leaving again was too much to bear. You glanced at the clock on the bedside table quickly realizing your crushing loneliness was only hours away.

You sat up, clutching the bedsheet to your chest as you stared at Jack in disbelief. “Can't you stay any longer? You just got here,” you protested, hoping to change his mind.

Jack rubbed a hand along your back soothingly. “I know, angel, but it’s business. I have to,” he explained. Despite the softness in his voice, you took no solace in it.

Turning away from him to reach for his jacket, you fumbled in the dark for his cigarettes and lighter, needing something to distract you. “You’ll be a good girl for me, no pouting?,” he asked and without having to look, you could imagine his mouth curling into a charming smile. As your fingertips brushed paper, you frowned slightly. Pulling it from his pocket, you squinted in the light to make out a woman’s name and a New York address. Your heart dropped at the sight of the unfamiliar loopy handwriting and tomorrow's date inside a heart.

“Doll?” he called out when he realized you were softly shaking your head. His large hand came to rest atop your thigh and gave a gentle squeeze to get your attention, but your thoughts had drifted back where he could no longer reach you. You were somewhere in the garden planting flowers while he dined with her, falling asleep in a cold bed as he warmed hers and dreaming of a man who never thought of you.

You stood from the bed and glared down at him with a quiet anger he instantly recognized, the accusation written over your tear stained face. “People are fragile things, Jack,” you mused. “You should be careful what you put them through."

[skyevergreen]

Solitudinarian (A horror short story Im writing)

(Little pre-thing this is my first time really posting anything of this kind on Tumblr and So im gonna post this story in chunks and as I write more do little updates also very rough draft) “We interrupt your current broadcast to bring an emergency broadcast, this broadcast is being brought to you by the United States Public safety department and is a message to all residents of the United states. There have been a total of 500 thousand people coming into hospital with symptoms never seen before in any known virus. Symptoms observed have been red eyes, nose bleeds, ringing ears, irregular behavior, sleep walking, violent and sporadic movements, twitching, and overall brain failure. All cases of this virus have been fatal, and those who haven't died are now missing. Those infected have reported seeing shadows in the corner of their eyes, or feel like they are being watched. Along with infected individuals, sightings of tall and disfigured silhouettes have been spotted around neighborhoods. If you make contact with any of these creatures, make distance between you and the entity. If you or a family member are suffering from sickness, do your community a favor and keep yourself indoors and locked inside. For those uninfected lock all doors and windows, stock up on supplies, and do not leave your home. Have trust in your government, May god be with us all”.

The TV broadcast rips through the air once more. It's the same old message that has been repeated for the last 2 months. I tune in just for the chance of there being an update, a chance that maybe this whole thing will all be over. As the same words play again I hit the power button to the box Tv leaving me alone in the darkness of my living room. My stomach growls and I feel my body ache at me telling me it's time to eat, all these days that have strung together hunger is the one of the things that's at least stayed the same. I stand up feeling my body ache and looking around at the can littered floor I make my way to the kitchen. Flicking on a light switch, blinding myself for a few brief moments. As my eyes adjust I lay sight to the dirty counter space that matches the off white walls. A cockroach crawled from under the fridge and almost as fast as it crawled out it scurried right under another counter. Taking a deep breath I open the cupboard to be met with stacks of canned food. Sighing deep I grab one of the cans of food and pry it open, my eyes are met with the can of meat that I'm only half sure what's in it. But it's better than starving so I sink a spoon that I had found on the nearby table into the meat. It gushed liquids and made a disgusting noise as I dug into it. Getting a spoonful I take a bite and chew, it's the same stuff I've been eating for days now. The disgusting taste is now almost welcome. As I finish the can of food I lay it on the counter with the rest of the empties. My eyes are heavy, I've been awake for far too long, it's probably best I get some rest. I leave my kitchen and make my way down my hallway, that seems to extend for miles due to the beckoning darkness. I stumble down the hall passing the bathroom door, I arrive at my bedroom, it's lit by a dim lamp revealing the piles of clothes and several empty bottles of water. I fall onto my bed reaching to grab my medicine from my bedside table. I take 2 pills and lay my head on my pillow and let the mattress grab ahold of my body. As I close my eyes I feel myself drift off into the void of sleep, Maybe tomorrow will be different.

[minadoki]

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大家好, hello! this will be my first post on this account and I would like to start off with a brief introduction and a one-shot :D [+set of boundaries//dw, I will write it in front of every shot]

一、one: I usually write angsty fanfics because I lean towards a more emotional side, which makes it more comfortable for me to settle down and pour my thoughts over a messily written draft that I may cry about later on when proof reading :)

二、two: a little fun fact here, your sincerely unstable author here came from wattpad and traversed the universe to tumblr since my many favorite fanfics were either finished or paused. I came to tumblr mainly because I do not have a lot of time to dedicate to reading fics and writing a whole 10000 words chapter. :((

三、three: I mainly write “xreader” [fem!] shots but of course, it does not limit you to request a canon ship [or male!reader, but it kinda makes me uncomfortable haha]! [sorry to those who wants avengers or stranger things or any other live action series/movies x readers because I don’t really write those—I have also never watch those unless my parents watches them—so I can’t really make up a plot without making them OOC, I mainly write about anime/manga/certain books such as Harry Potter & Keeper of the Lost Cities though]

—pls do not claim this as your own if not permitted by the author

—take responsibility for your own digital footprint

—keep this environment toxic-free

THANK YOU

~that’s it for the intro<3

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SPY X FAMILY —————— yuri briar [fluff]

<1>

“Catch me!” You shrieked as the boy behind you bubbled with laughter, racing towards your small and frail figure. Your voices vibrated throughout the open field.

Your breath got heavier and your heart was drumming loudly in your ears, causing your mind to spin and your knees to go weak. Soon after, your legs gave out and a pair of hands grabbed onto your shoulders, causing the both of you to fall on the patch of fake grass. You felt him press himself against you by accident but he steadied himself, standing up before pulling you towards him, assisting you back to the small apartment in which he and his sister live in.

“Dinner time!” Yor announced excitedly, placing down a few packaged food on the dining table. Yuri grabbed you by your hand and pulled you to sit beside him as he is sandwiched between you and Yor.

Itadekimasu~

and you dug into the food while it’s still warm. “Oh and y/n,” Yor started, “when are your parents coming to pick you up?” A brief moment of silence fell upon the three of you, before you spoke with a full mouth, “uh-hum, they will be coming soon… so that I can wake up in time for school tomorrow.”

Yor smiled, her cheeks flashing a pink hue, “thanks again for standing up for Yuri at school the other day, it was really brave of you to do so..” You only glanced at Yuri in response, awkwardly nodding your head.

You’re still a new student in middle school and the Briar family have already kept you under their wing and made sure you treated them as a second home—somewhere like a safe haven to drown your worries and fears away.

Ding dong!

“Thank you, truly, for taking care of y/n here, her father and I have been quite busy today but we were relieved when you volunteered to take care of her, we couldn’t thank you more.. here take this sum of money as our token of appreciation!”

Ms Snow stuffed a hefty load of cash into Yor’s hands, forcing her to accept the offering whilst you waved at Yuri. “W-wow!” Yor said, flustered about the load of cash she was given. While Yuri was engrossed in the adult’s conversation, you sneaked up to him to plant a soft kiss on his cheeks before grabbing Ms Snow’s scarred hands to make a beeline for the traffic.

After crossing the traffic, Ms Snow’s expression turned somewhat serious, and you knew then. You straightened your posture and leaned in closer.

“It’s time for your training,”

<2>

It is heavily raining that day due to the bad weather conditions these few days. A rather cold breeze gushed in your direction as you shivered. The busy traffic did not help as much. You were just outside your office building when a few police officers patrolled the area, seeking for suspicious persons.

You squinted your eyes, searching for a cab that was available to get you a ride home but the rain was too heavy and all was masked by the brutal shower.

While waiting for an available cab, a few officers jogged towards you, their uniforms soaked with the heavy rainfall. But one—one of them was under an umbrella with another officer holding it upright, sheltering him from the heavy rain. Though he was from a distance.

Perhaps he sent those officers to interrogate you?

But instead, your mouth gaped in surprise when they offered to hitch you a ride home. Though it was slightly suspicious, you were thankful for the kind gesture, but you waved them off, rejecting the offer with an apologetic smile.

That’s when you saw him—your eyes shifting to observe the officer being sheltered from the rain.

Yuri..

You breathed, grasping onto the hem of your culottes. You watched as the officers offer a tired sigh and jog towards him, feeling the need to follow them as well. You gave up. Finally succumbing to your desires, you ran out into the heavy rain, the droplets immediately soaking your attire as the wild wind flapped your wet hair and pulled at your culottes.

“YURI!!”

You screamed. He paused, then turned around and your heart raced against your rib cage as a thousand butterflies swarmed in your stomach, dancing around as tears burned in your eyes.

You were basically drenched in your own sweat, tears and the rain that mercilessly pecked you for your rash decision by the time you neared him. You reached out your hands and grabbed his cheeks, placing your lips against his.

The world stopped.

Time stopped.

It was a beautiful, magical moment.

Yuri’s cheeks flared as he grabbed your hips close to his. And as your lips part, you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you..”

<discontinued>

-take note that this is just a sample so it may be a bit rushed (I spent 3 hours writing it)

-I’ll write a better one next time :)

[ladyartemesia]

TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

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Home | k.mg

pairing ➳ businessman!mingyu x female!reader

genre ➳ strangers to lovers, romance, slice of life, angst, fluff, gets spicy at the end

word count ➳ 5.6k (apx)

warnings ➳ cursing, reader is really indecisive, heavy makeout, implications of sexual activity.

synopsis ➳ an attractive stranger visits your cabin for a week with whom you quickly bond, developing some strong feelings in the process; leaving you to wonder if he's worth leaving everything behind.

A/N: henlooo~ I finally posted! This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I didn't really feel like writing for a while, hence the delay. I hope y'all enjoy this piece and please don't forget to leave some feedback! It really motivates me :)

A cool gust of wind blew by as you finished typing your last column, leaving a soothing feeling behind as you exhaled loudly. It was hard to finish this piece of writing for some reason, maybe because you lacked inspiration or maybe because your life had been monotonous for a while or simply, a mix of both. Closing your laptop you stretch your hands and legs, feeling somewhat productive. Humming a tune, you looked out the window to see a Lamborghini come to a halt at the entrance.

It piqued your interest because it's not often that people riding Lamborghini come in this cabin so genuinely you're interested in the visitor. You shifted in your chair, waiting for the man to come upstairs to the reception and sure enough a tall- really tall man dressed in a neatly pressed suit appears into your view, briskly walking towards the reception where Chan stood to greet him. You could not get a good look at his face as he moved around quickly, grabbing his small carry on and heading towards his cabin after the formalities.

You watched his tall frame walking away as you got up from your seat and moved towards Chan.

"Who is he?"

"Kim Mingyu," Chan explained, resting his arms on the reception table." A millionaire, owns a lot of companies. No wonder he looked familiar."

"Oh, really? How long is he staying?"

"He has booked for five days. Said he might extend his stay."

"I see."

"Why are you so curious though?" Chan raised a brow at you, tilting his head to a side.

"Nothing." You shrugged. "He just has different vibes than the other people that come here you know?"

Chan hummed in agreement.

-

There was never much visitors during the rainy season which was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because that meant the cabin was less hectic and curse because sometimes you are bound to get a bit too bored. You were helping yourself with a cup of tea to somewhat feel re-energised when your newest and the only guest for the week appeared from his cabin, padding through the corridor and stepping into the common kitchen area. You were taken aback for a moment before you composed yourself and smiled at your guest, "Good morning, Mr. Kim. May I help you with anything?"

"Mingyu, please," the tall male replied while scanning the kitchen area. "You're the owner right? What's the food arrangement here?"

"Well, our guests generally cook for themselves or order takeout. When there are many guests I sometimes do the cooking."

Nodding, he hummed before putting in a capsule in the cappuccino machine. You took a seat by the window, tea in your hand as you watched the male move around like he knew this place. Dressed in his pajamas and judging by the fluffy mess that his hair was you assumed he had a good night's sleep.

"I hope you had a pleasant night, Mr- Mingyu." You said to your guest who had whipped out a pan from the cupboard and was making omelette. "Yes, surprisingly so. Normally I have trouble falling asleep but I slept like a baby last night," he casually conversed as he prepared his breakfast.

You smiled, "Well, I'm glad to know that. If you need anything let my staffs or me know."

"Sure. Oh- I didn't get your name though." Mingyu turned to meet your eyes.

"___," you smiled.

"___, okay."

-

"This is gonna be a rainy week," Hoshi said from behind you as he stood holding a tub of fresh soil for the plants in the backyard of the cabin. You sat on your knees, eyeing the plants which needed their soil changed.

"Yeah? Well, good thing there isn't much guests now."

"I think there should be, I mean it's so pretty here during the rain too. People need to look at it themselves." Hoshi complained.

"Well, most people don't like going out in the rain. Pass me the soil, Hoshi. Let's get this finished before the shower starts."

Hoshi handed you the tub of soil as the sky above started growling, full of thick black clouds. It was gonna start raining soon.

Hoshi spoke, "Oh, Mr.Kim, Mingyu you know, asked me about the beach by the marketplace. Apparently he wants to visit so he asked me if I was free to show him around."

"And let me guess, you aren't?" You rolled your eyes.

Soonyoung pouted, "No! Well I would have given him a tour today if the weather wasn't so bad. And my friends are coming tomorrow, so I'll be busy then."

"Wait- you're friends are coming?" You turned, glaring at the boy who smiles sheepishly, "Oh! Um- I didn't tell you? Well they're only staying for a couple of days and it's not like they're staying for free."

"Well, make sure they clean after themselves okay? If I see them trashing all over the place like last time, I'm kicking you out with them." You gave him a pointed look.

"Okay okay," Hoshi rolled his eyes, puffing his cheeks. "Just- take the CEO out on a tour tomorrow for me okay? I haven't seen my friends in a long time."

"Alright, I will...if the weather is good which probably won't be." You sighed, gently removing the old soil.

Hoshi mused about Mingyu, "Bummer for him, he came in a wrong time. It's weird, no? We don't have such guests like him."

"Yeah," you hummed, focused on handling your roses.

-

Hoshi's friend, Seokmin and Seungkwan appeared early in the morning next day as you watched Hoshi vibrate from happiness when he hugged them. You smiled to yourself, laughing at at the antics of your staff as you saw him guide his friends into their cabin. The day was once again filled with dark clouds and raining which occurred every other hour. You and Chan cleaned up and completed some chores as the noon fell.

"Should I cook something up for them?" You wondered as Chan finished cleaning the common space of the first cabin.

"Nah, Seokmin hyung is cooking for them. He's a pretty good cook actually."

"Really? That's nice." You said pulling up a chair to sit down. "Are you gonna join them? Hoshi has been with his friends since they came."

"Yeah, probably. You should join us too."

"No, I think I'm gonna take a nap. I feel so tired."

"Alright."

You watched as Chan climbed down the stairs and stepped towards the second cabin where everyone else was. You were about to head to your room when the CEO, Mingyu appeared in the kitchen.

"Oh, hello."

"Hi."

"I haven't seen you since morning," you said watching as Mingyu poured himself a glass of water.

"Yeah, I woke up early today, went for a jog."

"Ah, I see."

"Couldn't go far though, the weather sucks you know." He said leaning against the kitchen top.

"Yeah. But I heard that it should get better from tomorrow. I could show you around if you want to. Hoshi, my staff, is going to busy for a while so I can guide you around."

"Really? That would be cool." Mingyu smiled. There was a small stretch of silence as you both listened to the rainfall before he spoke, "Have you had lunch?"

"Uh-no."

"Would you like to join me?" He asked "This is the longest time I've been alone and it feels a bit weird," he murmured more to himself than you.

"I mean- I don't mind," you shrugged. "Though I should be the one doing it."

"It's okay. People say I am a good cook," Mingyu smiled, his eyes crinkling.

"Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to see."

-

It was weird how comfortable you felt watching Mingyu being clumsy and bump into things as he prepared your meal. It felt like you've been doing this forever- like you've known him forever and you thought to yourself what was suddenly wrong with you. He made small talk as he cooked and it felt easy talking with him- almost impossible to believe that he was stranger. He was friendly and easy to get along with, definitely not a cold and grumpy businessman like you imagined him to be.

Mingyu grinned as he set down the food in front of you- chicken soup, rice and cheese omelette. His eyes twinkled excitedly as he watched you take a bite, waiting for you to say something.

"What are you? A part time chef or something?" You tried not to moan as you chewed because it was that good. Mingyu laughed- a sweet, shy laugh that had his canines showing and his eyes forming crescents. "Thank you. I learned from my mom. I like cooking for myself when I get the time which is not often," he smiled- almost sadly.

"Well, you can cook for me all you want as long as you're here because this is amazing!" You grinned at him, cheeks puffed with food.

Mingyu chuckled softly as he dug in and you both started eating. It felt nice, to talk to someone new and spend time with them, someone other than Chan or Hoshi. It was a nice change- a change you probably needed for a while.

"So...What brings you here?" You asked as you finished your food, setting down the spoon and leaning back into the chair. Mingyu who was still eating, looked at you with a perplexed expression so you spoke, "I mean...we don't generally have guests like you. And it's not even a good time to visit...so I was wondering what brought you here?"

"Guests like me? What does that mean?"

"I mean...rich, okay?" You fumbled, feeling awkward. Maybe you shouldn't have asked. "Like...there are fancier places to visit, you know..."

Mingyu smiled at your words for a moment before he deadpanned, "I'm running away."

"Running away?" You gasped, almost jumping from your seat, "From who? The cops?"

"It would have been better but no, my family," he said, his voice as serious as ever.

"Oh...I see," you fell quiet. It definitely wasn't the answer you expected. You both remained silent for a while as he started out the window, lost in thoughts. "It must have been really bad if you're hiding out here." You spoke softly.

"It has always been," he mumbled. "I just couldn't take it anymore, you know? I desperately needed a break," he spoke more to himself than you. Instead of prodding further, you sat quietly, watching him and listening to his words. Seeing him now, he definitely looks troubled and you didn't exactly have the words to console him.

So you whispered, "Well, I hope it gets better."

-

Later that night, you find Hoshi and his friends and Chan preparing for a bonfire in the front yard of the cabin.

"Wow, you all are really having fun, no?" You said as you fisted your hands in your pockets from the chilly weather. The air was colder than other nights and everyone including you had put on some warm clothes.

"You wanna join us?" Seokmin asked as he stacked logs on top of each other.

"Nah, it's fine. You four carry on," you patted his back as you started walking back towards the cabin and saw Chan and Hoshi coming out with some boxes in their hands.

"Hey! There are marshmallows in the kitchen cabinet if you want.... nevermind," you finished as you saw beer cans and soju bottles in their hands.

"We're gonna get drunk baby!" Soonyoung yelled, grinning like a fool.

"Hyung, you look drunk already," Chan gave him a side look as they trudged towards the bonfire.

Laughing at their antics you climbed the stairs to the kitchen, preparing some hot chocolate for yourself. Holding the mug on one hand you knocked on the door to Mingyu's room, checking up on him since you haven't seen him since lunch.

The door opened revealing Mingyu in a baggy shirt and pajamas, his hair fluffy and messy.

"Hey," you chriped. "Wanted to check up on you. You wanna join the others in the bonfire?"

"Nah, I'm good. I've been watching them from the balcony." He smiled, his pointy canines showing.

"Oh, I see."

"You wanna come in? I've been getting lonely." He offered, moving away from the door to make space for you.

"Uh- I don't mind," you murmured, surprised that he asked you to come in. You tentatively stepped in and it was fair to say that you were surprised to see the room neat and pristine as most guests kept their room messy.

He ushered you into the balcony, which had a great view of your yard and the forest behind. You saw others laughing loudly as Soonyoung acted something out. Mingyu's voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

"You didn't join them?"

"Nah, they can get too loud sometimes," you chuckled, taking a seat on the bench. You eyed an empty mug lying by, guessing that Mingyu already had his fill of hot chocolate.

Mingyu took a seat beside you, stretching his legs and sighing as he mused, "The view is great."

You hummed your agreement. It was indeed. Not only did you have the full view of your yard and the forest, but you could see a vast horizon of the night sky, some stars twinkling through the clouds.

"It's even more beautiful during summer. You can see so many stars that it feels unreal." You told him.

"Then I will try to visit again during summer," he smiled and you were not sure if he was serious or joking. However you replied with a smile, "You're always welcome."

A silence falls among you two after that but it's not uncomfortable, as you both watched the night grow and Soonyoung and his friends got louder.

"Things got really hard for me, you know," Mingyu started speaking, his voice soft as he stared at the mesh of trees ahead. You were somewhat surprised at his words, but you didn't interrupt, opting for him to continue.

"Running a million dollar company was never easy but...it suddenly was unbearable. My parents always interfered in my work and how I run the company but I managed through all of that, really...until..." Mingyu heaved a long sigh, abruptly stopping.

"Until?" You tentatively asked, peeking at him.

"They want me to get married. With the daughter of their business partner. A marriage of convenience, really."

Oh.

You fell silent, watching him as the moonlight dimly lit the side of his face. There wasn't enough light to see his face completely, but enough to see the curve of his face, his sharp jawline and the sad, lost look in his eyes. Your heart suddenly ached for him. Silently you patted his shoulder, conjuring up some words to console him.

"That's ...awful, really. I'm sorry."

"I've never been so mad in my whole life. Can't they just leave me alone? They treat me like a puppet, like my only job is to live for them. I'm so done. " He said, his hands forming fists.

There's a beat of silence as you quietly patted his back and watched your friends get wasted by the bonfire before he chuckled softly, "I'm sorry for dumping all these on you. I just couldn't hold them in you know-"

"It's really fine, Mingyu. I don't mind. It would be nice if I could actually help you," you sighed, retracting your hand.

"Trust me, you are," he said and you caught a smile on his face.

"I suppose you don't have a significant other? Someone you could talk to freely?"

He shook his head. "That is why I came here. Needed to get my thoughts together, away from them. Not to mention I don't remember the last time I went on a vacation."

"And have you got your thoughts together?"

"I think so, yeah." He shrugged.

"What are you gonna do?" You asked tilting your head.

"Stand strong in my ground, I guess. There's no way I'm marrying their business partner, I'd rather die. And if all else fails, I'm staying here. I'm sure you have some type of job for me, right?"

You laughed at his words, "Maybe. But I'm not sure about your skills, Mr. Kim."

"Oh I'm a fast learner, Miss ___."

You both grinned at each other.

That night when you went back to your room, your thoughts were plagued by Mingyu and you could swear you saw him in your dreams too.

-

The next morning is brighter and shinier; the sky relatively clear other than some light clouds. After getting dressed and checking up on Hoshi and Chan who were still sleeping, you trudged through the cabin and towards Mingyu's room, before knocking on it. A fully dressed Mingyu appeared, clad in a white polo and jeans, his hair styled messily. He looked effortlessly attractive, making your heart skipp a few beats.

Damn it, what was wrong with you?

"Hi," you almost missed a breath, your face flushed with warmth.

"Oh, hey. I was about to come to you. I believe you were to show me around." Mingyu grinned, his pointy canines showing.

"And that is what I'm here for, Mr. Kim."

"Great! Let's get going. We'll take my car."

-

After showing Mingyu around for a couple of hours, you both ended up at the beach by the marketplace, sitting on the sand next to each other. The weather was nice; not too hot, not too cold as a light breeze flew by occasionally. Though you could see some black clouds gathering above, it wasn't to rain until evening if the forecast was correct.

"This place is so pretty," Mingyu mused, making you smile.

"I know right. The weather is great too."

You both watched the waves crash to the shore, occasionally wetting your feet as you both relaxed on the sand. There was a silence, a comfortable one as you finished eating the corndog you bought from the market earlier with some groceries. As you finished the last bite, Mingyu turned to face you and asked, "Tell me about yourself."

"What?" A squeak of surprise escaped from you.

"I shared a lot about myself last night. It's only fair I get to know about you too."

"Well..." You pondered. "There isn't much to tell. I've a pretty dull life, unlike you."

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head, "Does the cabin belong to your parents? Is it like a family business type of thing?"

"No, not really," you smiled softly. "My parents are dead. The cabin belonged to my grandfather."

"Oh- I'm sorry."

"No it's okay. They passed away in an accident when I was a kid so I don't remember them much." You spoke, watching the sea, "My grandparents raised me. Growing up I've spent a lot of time in the cabin and when my grandfather retired he handed the job to me."

"Are they alive? Your grandparents?" He asked tentatively.

You shook your head, "Grandpa passed away a couple years ago and it's been a few months since grandma did too."

"I'm sorry, you must've been lonely," Mingyu offered, his voice soft.

You shrugged, "Yeah, like I said, nothing interesting going on in my life."

Mingyu hummed noncommittally and there was a few moments of silence before he spoke again, "Was managing the cabin something you have always wanted to do?"

You were quiet for a while as you thought over the question, "No...not really. I've just kept doing the job I was handed to. I haven't really thought about what I want to do."

"Well...I think you should hire a manager in your place and maybe...I don't come to the city and make friends, see what calls for you."

"Yeah, I've thought about it. But I don't know really." You murmured.

"Well, give it some thought. I could help you find a manager. In fact, I could help promote and upgrade your cabin if you'd let me. It'll be a good investment."

You laughed softly, not taking his words too seriously. He was just a guest. He was probably just being nice.

A gust of strong wind flew by, ruining your hair as it poked into your eyes and you laughed when your eyes landed on Mingyu.

"What?"

His hair was sticking in different directions because of the wind and you shook your head with a smile as you reached to pat the hairs back into place. It happened naturally, before you could stop yourself. For a moment your eyes meet as you quickly retract your hand, face heated.

Something was definitely wrong with you.

Mingyu's gaze stayed at you for a while; you could feel his intense eyes on you and you thought maybe he didn't like you touching him. Before your thoughts ran more rampant, he spoke.

"___?"

"Y-yes?"

"Do you...Do you have a home?"

"Home?" You were confused.

"Yes, home. Not like a real house but like a... person. Someone who makes you feel at ease, someone with whom you can be yourself without judgements, someone who keeps you cozy and safe and loved...like a home."

Somewhat taken aback by his words, you fell silent but their depth hit you and you found yourself thinking about it. Do you have a home?

No. No, you don't.

You shook your head, murmuring, "No."

Mingyu nodded taking his eyes off you.

"What about you?" You asked.

"Me neither."

You smiled, "Figures. Because if you had someone you wouldn't have run here but went to them."

Mingyu smiled, a sad smile gracing his lips. It was a somewhat bitter truth, he hadn't found his home no matter how much he looked for it. Maybe that's what he was doing wrong, looking desperately.

"Let's get going. It has started to rain," Your voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he felt small drops of water fall on his face. You reached your hand out to him and he took it, standing up. As you both jogged towards Mingyu's car, your hands remained connected, no one bothering to let go.

-

That night you had dinner with Mingyu again but this time it was you who did the cooking. After enjoying dinner over small talk, Mingyu like the gentleman he is did the dishes as you poured some wine for the two of you.

Sitting on the small table in common space by the window, you both watched the clear sky that had appeared after the shower. You sipped your wine, watching the vast expanse of stars that blinked in the dark sky.

"I think I've to go back tomorrow," Mingyu suddenly whispered, his tone so low you almost thought you misheard him. A bolt out the blue, you looked at him.

"Tomorrow?"

"Mmhmm," he fiddled with the hem of his cardigan as he stared at the table. "I've got so many calls and messages from work. My company won't run on its on, I can be gone for only so long." He sighed.

You didn't offer any words, too shocked to know that he'd be gone tomorrow. What is this attachment you've developed towards him? Why did the thought of someone, almost a stranger going back to where he came from, where he belonged hurt you so much? You didn't know what to label your feelings but realizing that you'd probably never see him again was tugging at your heartstrings.

Should you ask him for his number and stay connected with him? Is there even a point in that? You both live miles away from each other. Or should just take his advice and follow him to the city? Would that even be a good idea? Are you just reading all this wrong?

You were so invested in your thoughts that you didn't realize Mingyu was calling you until he shook your shoulder.

"You okay, ___?"

"Huh? Yeah...it's just, the news is really sudden. I didn't... expect you'd return so soon." You mumbled.

Mingyu sighed, his shoulder dropping a little bit. "Trust me, if I could I'd stay here forever. But...I can't keep running. I need to face my parents, the sooner the better."

At a loss of what to say, you just nodded. Reaching for your drink you took a big gulp, trying to calm your nerves. It's okay, you can do this. He's just another one of your guests.

You stood up, taking the empty glass in your hand, "Well, I better leave you alone now. I'm sure you've got packing to do."

You almost turned away; until a strong hand gripped your wrist and pulled you back, making you stumble towards Mingyu's body.

"Don't. Stay for a while. I don't want you to leave." His voice was soft yet deep and it immediately broke your resolve as you set the glass down and looked into his eyes.

He didn't let go of your wrist; instead only wrapped his other hand around your waist, pulling you closer, leaving just a few inches between your faces. You didn't tell him to move neither did you make any effort to get away from him- you didn't want to. It felt good, comforting as he held you and looked at you almost like you were his whole world. His eyes had so much emotion swirling in them and you were sure yours looked the same too.

"___?" His voice was breathy and it set your heart aflame.

"Y-yes?"

"Can I...kiss you?"

You inhaled sharply as his hold on you got tighter. You couldn't process a reply, overwhelmed with emotion. So you just nodded and Mingyu leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

It was soft at first, his lips just resting against yours, as if he was testing the waters. When you didn't resist but only pulled him closer, he started devouring you, his tongue prodding in your wet cavern. Moans espaced from you as you kept pulling at his hair almost grinding on him, desperate for more. He was the same, kissing you with so much passion and vigour like you were the last female standing.

You somehow managed to tug off his cardigan between the kiss and when you pulled apart for air, Mingyu panted, "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

His deep raspy voice spread liquid heat throughout your body and you had to stop yourself from pouncing on him.

"Yes please," you breathed. Mingyu stood up straight, his tall and built body intimidating you in the best ways possible, "Oh baby, you don't have to beg. I'll give you anything you want."

Once again your breath was trapped as he picked you up, his hand under your ass to support you. When he dropped you on his bed and took off his tee you realized you were in for a long night. In the back of your mind, you also realized that this would make it even harder to let him go.

-

Next morning you were the first one to wake up as the sun barely seeped through the blinds. If you had to guess it wasn't any more than six am. Mingyu's hand rested on your waist as he remained snuggled against your back. It was so comforting that you almost forgot your reality and went back to sleep, until you remembered what had happened last night. Before you could start overthinking and possibly had a breakdown right there, you ever so carefully removed his hand from your body and scrawled out of the bed, grabbing your shirt and quickly throwing it on. Then you tiptoped out of his room despite the ache between your legs and rushed straight towards yours.

Slamming the door shut, your sat down, head in your hands. You've to now prepare for saying goodbye. Right, you just need to act casual and not let him know that you might have developed feelings for him in the past week.

His words came back to you.

"Do you have a home?"

You didn't have one until now but the realization that you may have found it brought tears to your eyes.

-

You spent the next hours wallowing in your self pity, curled up in your bed too afraid to get out and face Mingyu. Soonyoung dropped by once, knocking at your door and asking if you want breakfast, which you declined. Time slowly ticked away and you watched as the clock struck eleven. You couldn't stay inside forever. You needed to bid Mingyu a goodbye- that is if he hadn't left already. But you were sure he didn't; he wouldn't just leave without any words.

Sighing, you gathered every last bit of your courage and stepped out of your room. Immediately you saw Mingyu coming out from the opposite end of the corridor, the carry-on he brought with him in his hand.

"Hey, where have you been?" He asked, his steps getting quicker to come and stand in front of you.

"Oh- um, I took and shower and then dozed off, sorry," you lied easily, not meeting his eyes.

There was a beat of silence as you both stood in front of each other and when your eyes finally met his, a blush spread across his face like wildfire. The air was heavy with unsaid words and you coughed, trying to get rid of the terrible awkwardness.

"So, you're leaving now?"

What a nice question.

Mingyu seemed to be lost in thoughts as he snapped back to reality and scratched the back of his head, "Oh yeah, right. It'll be a couple hours drive so the earlier I leave the better."

Nodding you motioned your hand towards the exit, "I'll see you out."

Mingyu seemed to have something to say but he pressed his lips in a thin line and started to climb down the stairs, you behind him. Soonyoung, who was standing at the entrance gave you a conspirational wiggle of his brows but said nothing as he watched you follow Mingyu out.

You observed as Mingyu loaded his bag in the trunk, peeking glances at you every other second. When he finished, you spoke, "Well...good luck. I hope you can overcome your problems."

"Thanks. It won't be easy and my dad will probably take away my shares of the company but...I'm done living like this."

You nodded, smiling softly as you crossed your arms against your chest. It suddenly felt cold.

You both gazed at each other, saying nothing even though you've so much to say, as if the silence would carry your unsaid words to him. You were torn- wanting to talk about last night but chickening out knowing it was probably just a fling, a one night stand for him.

"___..." Mingyu spoke but the words died on his tongue. Not trusting yourself to speak, you swallwed the ball of emotions and looked at him with a curious tilt of head.

"...I hope you find what you really want to do. And I hope you find your home too," he said, his words so soft and gentle. For some reason you had a feeling that those were not the words he wanted to say yet you forced a smile and nodded, "You too, Mingyu."

His eyes swirled with so my emotions but you didn't know what he was thinking. He looked pained, just like you but you were too afraid to speak your feelings, scared that you misread him.

When you spoke no more, Mingyu sighed and backstopped slowly, "Well... goodbye, then."

You managed to choke out the words, "Goodbye."

Your emotions overwhelmed you, tears stinging your eyes as you watched him enter his car. Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel like your heart was being ripped right out of your chest?

His engine roared to life and your stomach sunk. Was this really the right thing to do? Should you just let him go like this?

You made a split second decision that moment, just as his car moved forward a little.

"Mingyu!" You called after him, immediately making him stop the car. He came out, almost in a hurry, an expectant look on his face as you ran towards him. Then you made another split second decision as you wrapped your arms around his tall frame and held tight.

"I like you, Mingyu. I really like you." You mumbled in his chest.

He didn't say anything back but you felt his arms wrapping around you tightly and you stood there in each others embrace for a while. It felt like time has stopped, the warmth and safety of his arms comforting you and making you realize how you would have regretted if you had let him go.

Mingyu pulled back to take a look at your face, his hand cupping your cheeks, his warm but intense eyes on you, shining with love and adoration.

"Say something," you whispered, still unsure.

He chuckled, a light-hearted, carefree sound that made your heart swoon. "I like you too, if it wasn't obvious after last night."

Elated, you pulled his face down and kissed his lips as you felt him grin and wrap his arms around you once again.

"I want to go with you...to the city," you murmured into his chest as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

You couldn't see it but you felt him smirk, "Good. Because I think I found my home."

Your heart couldn't become fuller as you grinned like a happy child.

"Me too."

A/N 2: If you enjoyed reading don't forget to like and reblog and let me know your thoughts!

© startlightxsvt 2021 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

[princess-of-inarizaki]

Hi! If you’re taking requests, can I ask for something with Oikawa? Like maybe his knee injury is acting up and Seijoh’s sweet manager (who he of course has a crush on, and she has a crush on him - duh) takes care of him? Thank you, love!

AAAAH sweetheart thank you for this!! I love Oikawa so it was my pleasure to write this. (An anon after my own heart xD I'm melting).

Okay anyways, I hope you enjoy this <3

Taking care of your precious Tooru

Throughout the entirety of practice, you kept a watchful eye on Oikawa. Of course, you looked at him more than usual since you had the hugest crush on him (which makki and mattsun teased you about mercilessly)

But something was different, today. His knee, as you noticed was weaker than usual and he kept favouring the other side so as to not place too much strain on it.

“Oikawa, I think you need to take a time-out” you said gently, as soon as your were sure. “but y/n-chan...”

you simply flashed him a concerned look. A look that plainly said "hey you're not fooling anybody, mister"

Sighing, Oikawa walked over to you and sat on the bench, whilst motioning for the rest to continue their game. The bench was secluded from the training area as a row of lockers separated them (sorta like a makeshift locker room)

“Tooru, love? what were you thinking?” you whispered softly as you knelt down and gently elevated his knee, feeling him wincing in the process.

After he was alright, you began massaging the muscle as you looked up to face him. “don't get hurt, Tooru. I worry when you do.”

Oikawa was having such a hard time masking his feelings then. Not when the two of you were having a moment as intimate as this one. Not when you looked up at him with such concern and adoration.

Oikawa: you really do make it so hard

Y/n: what?

Oikawa: oh nothing. You just make it so hard to resist you. I could kiss you right now if you'd let me.

After relieving some of his pain, you helped him up. “We're going home. I'm walking you back, no arguements, okay Tooru?”

And honestly, how could Oikawa ever argue with you? He nodded as the two of you bid the rest goodbye.

Makki: ten bucks they get together before tomorrow

Mattsun: twenty bucks they get together in the next two hours

Iwa: shut the hell up oh my god let's stop talking about shittykawa.

On the way back, Oikawa gently wrapped his arm around your waist, causing you to blush deeply and smile. “Y/n-chan you smell really good”

“Oh yeah? You're a dork, Tooru” you said though laughs. “no I'm serious. You smell like cupcakes. I could honestly just eat you up right now” which earned him a prompt shove.

His house neared and he dug in his pocket for the keys, unlocking it and gesturing for you to come inside. “I'm sorry it's so messy” he said apologetically and rubbed his neck.

“No that's alright, I'll just make sure you're okay and then I'll leave” you assured him, as you walked into his kitchen to prepare a hot water bottle for him.

After it was ready, you walked up the stairs to find Tooru in bed, scrolling through his phone. “Ah y/n, there you are. Thank you” his face broke into a smile at the sight of you (which really made your heart flutter).

“I'll be leaving now, my love. See you at practice, yeah?” you gently brushed his hair out of his face and turned to leave, but something stopped you.

Oikawa had reached up and pulled your hand, burning passion in his eyes. “I know you brought me a hot water bottle, but you're really warm. Do you want to be my hot water bottle for a little while?”

You blushed as you allowed him to pull you in next to him, his arms immediately wrapping themselves around your waist and burying is face in the crook of your neck.

“I like you, y/n” he mumbled softly. “I like you so much it hurts.”

“I love the way you fuss over me, and treat me so gently. It's like you see me as a person in need of care and not just someone to make use of”

“I want you to play with my hair like this” he whispered as he pulled your hands up to his head “and I want to be able to kiss you like this” as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I want to be yours so badly it's almost like I'm a lovesick fool”

You didn't know what to say and instead just chose to kiss Oikawa's lips gently. “then from here on out, I'm yours. And you are mine.”

He could hardly believe his ears, and just as he was about to say something, you pulled him closer to you and glared “but if you ever overwork yourself or push yourself to the limits I am going to be very upset. You've gotta care about you as much as I care about you, mister”

Oikawa gave you a sheepish grin as he nuzzled into your neck and closed his eyes, seemingly pretending to fall asleep. The action was so cute, it made you fall in love with him all over again.

OH my god. Onto the saga of me finding already completed imagines in my drafts and going "yoooo why have I never posted this?? ;-;" so enjoy !!

Taglist: @tilli-san @dai-tsukki-desu @k-sakusa-old @sunasthing @osamusriceballs

[everlarkficexchange]

Magic as Always

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 71: Magic of Ordinary Days AU: 1940s, Katniss is a single pregnant girl. Desperate for her daughter not to have a child out of wedlock, Mrs Everdeen contacts a priest who in turn knows a young man who just may be willing to help. Sweet, kind and shy Peeta stayed home to take care of the family farm when his beloved brother went to war to never come back. He’s always wanted a family but rural small town life gives little chance to court. He hears of Katniss’ plight and graciously offers to marry her and raise the child as his own. He does everything he can think of to make a home for Katniss and the baby. How does Katniss take it? How does their relationship develop? Will they fall in love? [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: this chapter is rated Teens and Up  

Tags: Historical!AU; WWII; 1940’s Era views on marriage, sexism, pregnancy, etc; Katniss/Marvel relationship; Non-graphic Unprotected Sex; Unplanned Pregnancy; Arrange Marriage; Miscellaneous Religious views; Grief/Mourning; Canon Characters Death; OOC!Mrs.Everdeen; Somewhat OOC!Katniss; Everlark is Endgame; Other tags to be added.

Notes: Thank you Anon for this prompt. I must confess, I’ve never seen the movie ‘The Magic of Ordinary Days’ or read the book the movie is based on. I did a quick skimming on the plot of the movie and then dug up all kinds of reviews on the book, most of my plot points come from a combination of movie and book (which apparently differ only in a few parts), besides what the prompter asked for. I just really loved this prompt, and see the potential of this story, which will be a few chapters long, cross posted to AO3 and I already have a good chunk written ;) The rating will be adjusted too, because there will be explicit Everlark smut in the following chapters. Anon, I hope I don’t disappoint you, this story will be only loosely based on the source material, and adapted to fit THG characters in the narrative, I will try to stick to the main plot points as much as I can, but I’m also taking several liberties with the story. I hope you still like it though. 

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

Prim died on a Tuesday, after a very long, strenuous battle with poliomyelitis. My sweet little sister’s face looked as fresh as a dew drop even in death. 

  “Come now, Katniss,” my mother calls from the open door of the mortuary hall, where visitation took place an hour ago. 

  The mortician has arranged for the coffin to be taken to the cemetery and put in the ground this afternoon. There will be no graveside mourning. It’s all we could pay for, but then again the war has left everyone penniless nowadays.

  A big, rotund man comes to close the coffin, and offers a curt nod. 

  That’s it then. The very last time I’ll ever set eyes on Primrose’s sweet face. 

  “Katniss,” Mother whispers, insistently. It’s probably all she can muster before breaking down in tears.

  I look on at the box my sister’s body lies in, numb and heartsick. I bring my 3 middle fingers to my lips and then rise them in the air. My last salute to my beloved Little Duck. I step away from the coffin and shuffle towards mother. 

  Up close, I can see the deep, dark bruises under my mother’s eyes. She used to be beautiful in her youth— according to friends and old photographs— but now she just looks tired and defeated. I guess having to bury first her husband and then her 15 year old daughter, in less than a year, would have that effect on anyone.

  Prim would’ve looked like our mother, with their soft blonde locks, almond shaped blue eyes and alabaster skin. She had a softer spirit though, she enjoyed music and loved animals. She always said that if she was older, she would’ve joined the Red Cross and signed up to serve as a nurse to our boys in the Pacific, like Father did… Father wasn’t a nurse though, he was a chaplain. 

  It’s funny to think that I inherited so much of my father, like my dark hair, gray eyes and olive skin. We both also share the same aversion to human pain and blood that moves my mother and Prim to action; but unlike Prim, my father’s calling to help the soldiers in their worst situations, passed me and went directly to my baby sister. 

  I sigh… Prim would’ve made a terrific army nurse, if only she hadn’t wasted in bed with that odious disease! If she had been given the chance to live, I’m sure Prim would’ve had so many boys trailing after her. She would marry at some point and have a beautiful full life. 

  I don’t plan on marrying and having a family. If the acute pain in my own chest wasn’t enough warning,  watching my mother walk silently from the funeral home to our apartment, with her head bowed and listening to her quiet sobs at night would be enough evidence that there’s too much sorrow in losing one’s husband and children. 

  I think my efforts will be better spent in cultivating my mind, and getting my degree in botany, like my father always dreamed, anyway… plus, I’m not much of a looker… not like Prim at any rate. 

  We finally arrived at our modest home. Mother drifts ghost-like into the door, and then we both shuffle quietly into our separate bedrooms. There won’t be a meal at the table tonight, but I make sure Prim’s old tomcat gets fed and watered, and after he meows in distress at my sister’s door, I open mine, and let him strut inside my bedroom and hop into my bed. The hideous fur ball and I distrust each other, but he understands his mistress is never coming back, and he’s the last thing I have from her… so he lets me pet him and he cuddles close to my chest as I fall asleep, crying. 

——————————-

Mother and I walk slowly through the busy streets of town, mostly ignoring the bustle and disarray around us. People shout, cars honk horns, a baby cries in the distance, and the few young men rush back and forth in the busy sidewalks, like they’re being lashed by invisible whips.

  “We should stop by the grocer and see if we can pick up some eggs.” Says my mother, pulling her “Sugar Book” out of her handbag. 

  Because of the war, everything is being rationed, from sugar to shoes.

  I could care less about food and clothing, though. But I still go into the shop, dutifully. 

  I’m so immersed in my own thoughts, I don’t see the lanky man walking towards me with his arms full of vittles. 

  We collide. The man’s groceries fly up in every direction, raining over me, as I sit on my rump on the floor. 

  My mother is nowhere to be seen. Typical.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!” Says the man, pulling a packet of oatmeal from the floor, while extending his other hand to help me up. 

  “No… it’s alright, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Well, let’s agree that we’re both klutzes, and leave it at that?” The man offers.

  I’m on my feet, dusting my skirt off and righting my blouse, “Sure, let’s do that.” I scowl at the skew state of my clothes and finally look up at the man. 

  He’s smiling down at me, and I must admit, his smile is dazzling. He’s got short brown hair, greenish-brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles over his nose. He also towers above me. 

  “My stars! If it isn’t Katniss Everdeen!” The young man says, unexpectedly excited.

  I blink owlishly at him, and try to place his face, but I’m horrible at remembering people. Or their names. 

  “Marvel Quaid,” he offers genially, unfazed by my lack of response, “we went to grade school together?” He prompts, “My pa used to sell luxury goods in District One?”

  “Oh, I think it’s coming back now,” I say smiling for the first time in what feels like months. “You used to throw sticks, pretending they were spears or something,” I tell him, showing that indeed, I do remember him.

  Marvel scrunches his nose, “Javelins, actually. I was pretending I threw javelins. I saw a fellow doing it for the Olympics in a film, and then he won a medal for it. I thought to myself that making a victory lap with the good old American flag flapping after oneself looked like fun; well, I wanted to be a victor too!” He chuckles, then deflates. “But as everything, those dreams are gone now, crushed to dust under the weight of the war.”

  As is the norm, once the war gets brought up, gloominess settles on, dampening the cheeriest of spirits.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m all too familiar with the sentiment.”

  Marvel nods, grimly. 

  “We lost Father in France.” I’m not sure why I said it. “We put my sister in the ground last week, too.” I avert my eyes. 

  “Aww, geez, Kit… that’s truly awful. I’m so sorry for your loss,”

  I’m mildly surprised I don’t immediately recoil at his little pet name. I guess the fact that he doesn’t sound condescending while delivering his condolences, helps. 

  “Oh, well, as my father would’ve said, at least their toils in this world are over. They can finally rest in peace.”

  After a moment of heavy silence, Marvel shares, “I’m being shipped out tomorrow morning.”

  I scowl, “Oh,” I bite the inside of my cheek, wondering how he’d manage to evade the draft for this long? Marvel is my age, 19 going on 20… boys get sent to the front lines at 18. “I… I could write to you… if you wanted?” I offer shyly. 

  Isn’t that what young women are being told to do, in order to keep our boys’ morale from plummeting?  

  Marvel grins, showing slightly crooked teeth, “That would be swell, Kit!” He stares at me for a long moment, then sighs, “I should go back to my shopping, before they miss me at home. Lord knows when will I have the chance of doing something as mundane as picking up my mother’s weekly grocery allowance.”

  These days it is not only uncommon seeing men doing grocery runs, but simply seeing young, able-body men around, period. All of our boys are either in Europe or the Pacific, fighting to keep the devastation of the World war from reaching our shores.

  “Well, for what is worth, I hope you get to return home safely… you know, so you can do all the boring tasks your mother tells you to do. And when I say safe, I mean, I hope you don’t run anymore into spaced out girls, like me,” I smirk. 

  “Oh, Kit, if only you knew how much I’ve enjoyed our accidental skirmish. It’s like a gift from above, seeing you after all these years. Your smile and the color of your eyes will forever be branded in my mind, to give me a reason to fight. To have a dream,”

  I’m momentarily floored by Marvel’s florid little speech. Nobody has ever said anything nearly as sweet and gallant as that to me, and for a moment, I forget all about my dead sister and father, the war, and my own sorrow. 

  I avert my eyes, bashfully, as he finishes picking up his vittles off the floor.

  “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I lean over to pick up a can of milk, and put it on top of his pile. 

  “I only speak the truth,” he smiles brightly. 

  My mother chooses to interrupt at the exact moment I bat my lashes at him, “Katniss, there you are! I’ve been waiting for you by the counter.” She shakes her head. 

  Marvel wobbles on his feet, rearranging his load, and then greets my mother, warmly, “Mrs. Everdeen, how nice to see you again,” 

  My mother eyes him, unimpressed. “Good afternoon, young man,” she answers. 

  “Ma’am… pardon my forwardness, but, would it be too troublesome to ask Miss Katniss to accompany a soldier about to be shipped out, to supper in the town?” 

  My mother narrows her eyes, distrust dripping from her voice as she speaks, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. My daughter and I are in mourning, you see,”

  “Oh, this won’t be an untoward celebration of any kind, ma’am. With the war raging on, we’re all in mourning. All I ask for is one last night of normalcy, a chance to reconnect with an old grade-school mate,” he smiles, hopefully, “For old times sake?” 

  I’m watching my mother’s face closely, with bated breath.

  “Very well,” Mother sighs, “You may ask Katniss out to dinner. But have her home by 9 sharp!”  

  I don’t hesitate to step up and give him directions to my apartment building in District 12. 

  I spend the rest of my day giddy and nervous, pressing my best Sunday suit, the gray one with the matching jacket, and polishing my only pair of leather shoes. There isn’t much I can do about my hair… the thing can’t be fashioned into the favored waves, not even putting it in curlers overnight, so I let it be. 

  I briefly wonder if this was all Prim’s doing? Meeting Marvel and mother’s somewhat easy aquiciscent. Prim hated seeing me sad, and constantly talked about how she’d love to help me get ready for dates with a beau. She couldn’t wait to be of courting age and date a strapping, young man herself… but of course, that would never happen for her, but she would probably still want to see me have those things. 

  Maybe Marvel is right, and our serendipitous encounter is a gift from above, to heal our wounds… at least for the night. 

  ————————-

  Marvel arrives at my house in his father’s car at 5:45. Riding is now such a luxury, with gasoline being rationed and all. He takes me to a quaint little dinner in the middle of town. We share malts, a greasy burger, and a small portion of fries and onion rings. 

  We talk about baseball:

  “You’d look good in a baseball uniform, Kit! Can you still run as fast as you did in school?” 

  I laugh. “I’m not much for sports,” I demure, “but I’ve heard playing in one of the new teams pays alright. Anyway, I’m gonna be starting my second year of college soon. I put my studies on hold while Prim was at her worst, but now that it’s only just me and mother… I’m anxious to go back to study.”

  “Wow, beautiful and smart!”

  We talk about cars:

  “I loved driving… but Mother sold our car when my sister took a turn for the worse. She didn’t want to at first, saying that Father saved up to buy it, and it held sentimental value to her, but I had to push to sell it. We needed the money and gas was a nightmare to come by, anyway,”

  “The only reason we still have ours,” says Marvel, “is because Pa is too stubborn to let go of the things that still made him feel wealthy.” He scowls, “He’s trying to get into the ice business now, since it’s pretty much the only thing one where the raw material is plenty and relatively cheap, and there’s guarantee that people will buy the product… everyone still needs ice for their ice boxes, right?” 

  No one can afford luxuries anymore with every penny going out to support our boys in the battlefields.

  We talk about many other subjects: his sister’s wedding; my father’s unit getting pinned and killed by Germans… We didn’t get a body to bury, but I got a medal on his behalf as his eldest child. 

  Marvel lets me sniffle against his chest, and then kisses my lips slowly. 

  I’ve never been kissed on the lips, and I feel my face heat up. 

  “Would you… like to take a drive with me, Kit?”

  We drive all the way to the city limit. It’s exhilarating to be in a car again, and sitting at the overlook, at twilight,  alone with a handsome boy, feels positively forbidden! 

  I’ve never done anything remotely injudicious all my life, and this whole moment feels… magical… exciting! 

  Tentatively, I initiated our next kiss, but he takes over in a rush of caresses and flitting touches. 

  “Beautiful, graceful, Kit. You have no match!”

  “Marvel…” I kiss him again, not knowing how to answer his sentiments with words.

  His hands are restless, groping my shoulders and elbows. “I wished he had more time! I would’ve loved to marry you before departing. I would’ve show you so much passion and love!”

  “You still can show me, Marvel… you absolutely can!” 

  It’s all the permission he needs to dive into a frenzy. He doesn’t stop until the deed is done, and we’re a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs in the back seat of the car, only partially clothed. 

  A deep feeling of lethargy pours over me. My muscles are sore and heavy, and wished I could fall asleep in here. 

  “I intend on coming back to marry you, Katniss,” Marvel says, stretching his lanky, long legs to zip up his pants. 

  I sit up and start finger-combing my ruined hair, hoping my mother won’t notice the strands are extra frizzy. “Um… I guess we should after this,” I say shyly, gesturing between us. 

  “You could still go to college while I’m away,” he offers with magnanimity.

  “You… wouldn’t mind that?” I ask incredulous, college women are so rare, unless they’re trying to become nurses or teachers. Most girls start courting right after high school and get married in the span of one to two years, and their husbands don’t normally encourage an education beyond what their wives came into the marriage with; so to hear Marvel say that wouldn’t mi d me stay in college is just about the greatest thing possible!

  “My darling, Kit, I don’t want you to be one of those girls pining and wasting away for her beau. I’ll be busy at war, it’ll be unfair to keep you from occupying your own time while you wait fir my return. Go to college, my clever girl!”

  I smile indulgently at him, leaning closer to slip his necktie around the collar of his shirt, “You are truly a generous, loving man,” I say.

  Marvel beams, circling my waist with his arms pulling me against his body. “It’s all inspired by you, sugar plum!”

  I giggle, kissing his cheek, “I’ll write to you every day!” I promise. 

  “That’s nice… but just so you know, I might not be able to write back right away. It’ll be a while before I get settled enough to write. But you’ll be in my thoughts every minute of every day, and that’s the honest truth! I’m serious about marrying you when I return, Kit,” he kisses me again. And then, he looks at his watch, sighing. “It’s 8:32. We should get on going, gotta keep in my future mother-in-law’s good graces!” 

  We share a carefree laugh, and finish tidying ourselves up to drive back to my house. 

  He walks me to the door, takes me in his arms, and kisses me passionately before promising he’d be back to officially ask for my hand in marriage, and for my part, I swear I’ll write to him every day until he returns home safe and sound. 

  But neither of us keeps our promises in the end, although I tried. 

  ————————-

  Three weeks go by and I keep my word of writing daily letters. I receive no word in return from Marvel, but think nothing of it… Europe is far and traveling by sea is tedious and time consuming; Marvel will get in touch once he’s settled down. 

  Another week goes by, still without news from my would-be fiancé. I still don’t worry. I’ve been busy with university, and the few other girls attending school with me keep me busy, but my heavier workload is starting to get to me.

  I’m usually so tired and moody after school that socializing with my classmates becomes a chore. I barely eat supper before I’m passing out in bed, and my letters to Marvel start to get shorter and simpler with every passing day.

  I skip writing one afternoon altogether, and take a long nap. Buttercup— Prim’s ugly cat— perches on my bed like a sentinel to watch me sleep. I believe he’s worried about me… stupid, clingy cat thinks I’m sick.

  But the feline’s intuition proves right, because just two days later, I shoot out of bed and run into the washroom to spill every last ounce of last night supper into the toilet. I must’ve caught a bug or something! 

  I feel queasy and lightheaded every morning after. My appetite wanes and it seems my delicate stomach can only tolerate pears, and broth. 

  I visit the post office to place out my letters to Marvel almost everyday; Every time I come, the nice old mailman comments on how sweet it is to see all the young-uns holding romance strong. Marvel has yet to respond to one of my letters, so I just smile tightly and demure. 

  I’ve been thinking though; the longer I go without news of my supposed future husband, and despite the whirlwind night of romance with him, I start questioning my actions, my promises. I never wanted to marry before, and suddenly I was okay getting a hasty, unofficial engagement with a virtual stranger, I barely remember from grade school… maybe it’s better if Marvel never writes. 

  My plans on earning a college degree and finding a well paying job will go unencumbered— I’m aware women in prominent working professions are as rare as snow in July, but women’s presence in the working forces keep growing as industries need laborers to keep up producing while the men fight in the war. Educated women are almost becoming less rare. 

  At the two month mark since I last saw Marvel, I become weepier than usual… is to be expected in my opinion; Prim’s been gone for a little over two months and she was the only person I knew I loved. But now I’m worrying about my health on top of everything.

  One morning, while I’m kneeling on the cold, hard floor in front of the toilet, feeling miserable and tired, my mother calls my name from the open door.

  “Katniss, I think it’s time to get a test.” She states evenly, and then enters the room to fetch a damp washcloth to wipe my face clean. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’m afraid you may be with child,” she sighs. 

  I squirm. “No,” I gasp. “I— I can’t be with child. I just can’t!” But the thought has crossed my mind a few times already. “It’s not supposed to be this way!”

  “I know, child,” My mother pats my head, “there’s only one way to know. Get dressed for the day, I will call the most discreet physician I know, and have him pay us a visit.” 

  ————————-

  Doctor Aurelius— a physician my mother has helped deliver babies and treat maladies with— confirms the pregnancy with a grim face. 

  I sit at my kitchen table numb and despondent. My mother writes a check to the doctor for his services, while talking in no so hush tones in the other room. I listen to their whole conversation, as if submerged in water.

  “I blame myself for this, doctor. I should have kept a closer eye on her,” 

  “Don’t blame yourself Ms. Everdeen, it’s that war business bringing out all sorts of evil into the world! It’s unfortunate the rise of these cases in our community. Young ladies— from good families!— engaging in acts ought to be saved for marriage. Youth do things without thinking, guided by fear. Our boys fear they may not return from that senseless, awful war, and settle down properly, and I don’t blame them one little bit.”

  “The only solace I have right now, is that my poor husband is not here to see the shame that’s fallen over our family,”

  “I understand the sentiment, ma’am. There’s no telling how Preacher Everdeen would’ve taken this blow. But I’m sure things will work out as soon as young Katniss hears from the father…” 

  I dissolve into silent tears then. My mother escorts the doctor to the door and then there’s silence. 

  My pinky finger curls into the soft fabric of the table cloth, and I try to ignore the urge to vomit boiling in my stomach. There’s one thought circling mi mind: my college days are over.

  ——————————-

“Ah! Miss Everdeen, I have something for you.” Says the mailman as soon as I reach the desk. He smiles, but rather sadly, like he’s about to give me bad news. 

  I’ve come to the post office with urgent letters every day for 6 days, and he’s never looked at me this way. 

  The old man digs around for a moment and almost reluctantly, passes a parcel tied up in twine. An envelope is attached to the top of the parcel, and with a sinking feeling, I realized it’s a stack of my own letters. 

  “It came in today, miss.” Says the man, voice laced with pity. “Sorry for your loss.” He says. 

  At first I don’t understand what he could possibly mean by that; he’s offered his sympathies fir my dead father and sister already; it makes absolutely no sense to repeat himself randomly after so long. 

  Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. 

  I gasp, and press the parcel to my chest. “Oh no! Marvel!” I whisper. I give the man a hasty wave, thanking him, and rush out of the post office like mad. 

  Tears run down my cheeks, while I dash home, imagining the worst. “Poor, Marvel!” Is all I can think.

  “Katniss, what’s wrong?” My mother calls, alarmed, when I rush to my bedroom, sobbing. She follows me in, and watches me tear into the envelope at the top of the stack. 

  I frown in confusion when I’m met with handwritten, chicken-scratch scrawl, instead of a formal missive typed in official US military stationary. 

  My scowl deepens as my eyes rove over the flowery vocabulary, and then I screech, “What?!” 

  “Katniss, what’s going on?” 

  I ignore my mother when she approaches to read over my shoulder; I step around her, shaking the piece of paper in my hands and stand by the window, as if sunlight will make the words change their meaning.

  I smooth the creases and folds on the page over, and read out loud, “Dearest Kit, sorry it took so long to write, it’s been a wild time since we arrived and finding time to correspond with everyone back home it’s been hard.

  “At times, your letters have been the sole source of light and hope in the darkness of this conflict. Is for that reason, and with a heavy heart, that I must come clean to you now. I truly meant it when I swore to come back and make you my wife, but as the Good Book says, the Lord works in mysterious ways, and love has sprouted out the most unlikely place! Kit, I’ve fallen in love and married a lovely gal here in England…”

  I stop reading. He goes on talking about the why and how, but I sincerely don’t care. 

  “That good for nothing, virtue dasher, future crushing… liar!” My mother bleats to the ceiling, raising her palms over her head, dramatically. 

  I’m angry too, of course. I feel used and disposed of like a dirty rag, but my mother’s reaction is borderline hilarious. Except, it isn’t. 

  I’m pregnant, unmarried, and soon— once my still flat stomach starts rounding— I’ll be socially ostracized for my condition. My only saving grace was the promise of marriage that bastard Marvel had given me. But that’s gone now. 

  “I knew that boy was bad news the second I laid eyes on him! He never even introduced himself to me, the little weasel! This is my fault. My fault! I should’ve never allowed you to run amok with the likes of him…”

  “Mother, will you please?” I nearly growl, gesturing at the open bedroom door.

  She stares at me uncomprehendingly for a moment, before pursing her lips in disapproval, and stalking out of the room muttering her aggravation under her breath. 

  I sink into my bed with Marvel’s stupid letter crumpling in my fist. A single, hot, angry tear rolls down my face, and for the first time since finding out of its existence, I hug my midsection and address my child, “I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess. I know you didn’t ask for a mother like me, but I’m all you got now, little one. I promise we will be alright… I’ll try not to let you down.”

  ———————-

  My mother has been unbearable for the last two days. She cries in her room worse than when Prim died, and when she sees me, she starts lamenting my poor choice, like I’m not even standing there… as if I don’t feel discouraged enough. 

  I keep myself busy with my education. I will need to earn this diploma now more than ever before, and I need to do as much as I can before the baby arrives and my studies get put on hold. 

  In the meantime, I scout the newspapers for possible work options to sustain me and my mother. Our savings keep diminishing and the small stipend my mother got from the Army since my father passed away is becoming more insufficient by the day. 

  There’s a knock on the front door, and I push out my chair unhappy by the interruption. 

  “Afternoon Miss Katniss! Would you let your mother know she’s got a telephone call down in the lobby?” Says the building’s doorkeeper. 

  “Of course, thank you. She’ll be right down!”

  Telephones are yet another luxury we had to give up when moved to this small place after losing my father. 

  I go back to my job hunt, and my mother descends to the lobby, quickly. 

  She returns after only 10 minutes, almost running through the door, excitedly calling my name. Tears wet her face, but her smile is so blinding, even without knowing what sort of news she’s heard to cause her such joy, I stand from the table with nervous anticipation. 

  “Oh, Katniss! Katniss my dear daughter, you’re saved!” She exclaims, hugging me tightly. 

  I’m confused. I step away from her embrace, “What do you mean?” 

  “It’s the best thing possible ever, I tell you! The Lord has answered all of my prayers!”

  “This is all so exciting and all, mother, but… could you please share this great news already?” 

  My mother cups my face in her hands, and beams at me, “You need to pack your things, darling! Your father’s good friend, Reverend Undersee, has found a husband, and you are to wed, in three days time!”

  —————————

Reverend Undersee and his daughter, Madge, meet me and my mother at the rinky dink bus station, in the equally tiny town my mother has banished me to.

  “Katniss! How long has it been?” Says Madge, hugging me enthusiastically.

  I bite my tongue to keep the acidic retort of “not long enough!” to leave my mouth. 

  “Welcome to Panem,” says the reverend, soberly, shaking my mother’s hand in greeting.

  “Thank you, revered. We appreciate your hospitality and your understanding,” my mother responds, then gives me a pointed look and a wordless command. 

  I nod and mutter, “Thank you, sir. Madge,” 

  I scowl at a crack in the pavement, not feeling an iota of gratefulness for this charade! 

  Any man agreeing to this questionable union has to either be desperate, or be hiding terrible, ulterior motives to go along with all of this. Nobody in their right mind would willingly marry a girl pregnant with another man’s baby, and be happy about it… unless that’s the reason! 

  I shudder at the thought. 

  But it is a very real possibility that my intended is a simpleton, who can’t find a wife otherwise… or worse! It could be a man very advanced in age, looking for a supple, young body to leech off. Gross!

  My mother had been too excited about the news that a man offered to marry me (as if I asked for, or even wanted a husband!) to bother to ask his name. 

  Reverend Undersee coughs daintily, clears his throat, and starts, like he’s giving a lecture at the university. “It is our Christian duty to lend a helping hand to widows and orphans in their time of needs. Same way it’s our duty to keep the memory and honor of an old friend from being dragged into the mud.”

  I wince at the harsh words, and let my face fall lower, if that’s even possible. 

  “Well, it’s a good thing that we are all recipients of the abundant grace of the Lord, which covers multitude of faults, and it’s never hard to reach,” a deep, velvety, masculine voice cuts into my embarrassment. 

  I lift my eyes from the ground, to find a man striding confidently in our direction. He smiles kindly at me, his eyes fixed on my own, like I’m the only person still standing in the station.

  He finally cedes our staring contest, to take in the rest of the group.

  A knot forms in the pit of my stomach, because I recognize him from years past when my family used to visit this town, and I’m afraid I know exactly why he’s here. 

  “Good afternoon, all. I apologize for my tardiness, I had a last second detail to take care of before leaving the house,” he nods in our general direction, taking his hat off; a riot of ashy blonde curls falls onto his forehead, before bending forward to shake my mother’s hand, “I’m Peeta Mellark, at your service, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

  “Likewise, mister Mellark,” says my mother, her lips twitch tersely, “Widow Everdeen, and this here is my daughter Katniss… your bride.” 

  Peeta Mellark’s baby blue eyes slip back to mine, and the left side corner of lips curls into a shy, earnest smile. “Welcome to Panem, Katniss, I’ll sure do my best, so you’d like it here.”

[aidanchaser]

Waterloo Station

Several folks said, “I would love to see more of Regulus and Sirius shenanigans!” after Chapter 18. Well, lo and behold, I actually have a deleted bit of Chapter 18 showcasing just that. The second draft was from Sirius’ perspective, but since Sirius lent his voice to In Memoriam, and we’re about to hit a short run of non-Harry chapters, I brought the chapter back to Harry in the third draft. (the first draft was an entirely different Harry chapter about breaking James out of prison, but that got pushed back in favor of some character development; we’ll get back to it, I promise.)

So here’s a short bit, taken out of my scraps. It’s headed with “MY DARLING” because it is one of several darlings I have killed while writing Deathly Hallows, but it’s the only one to earn the all-caps title. Thanks to the magic of fanfic, I can still share this darling with you. (the alternate title for this chapter should be: Sirius Accidentally Outs Himself as a Furry)

Padfoot hated the city. It was loud and there were so many people, each with their own scents and emotions. He supposed he should count himself lucky Harry had bled so much, or the trail would have been harder to follow.

He recognized the wizards on the platform easily. Their attire of slacks combined with hoodies or rain slickers paired with thick rubber work boots marked them easily as incompetently dressed Ministry employees. Sirius supposed they were keeping an eye open for someone stupid enough to come to the platform in search of Harry, someone just like him.

The platform had been scrubbed clean, but Padfoot could still detect Harry’s scent through the bleach. He didn’t board the train that pulled into the station, not yet. He waited, sniffing the entrance of the car carefully. He didn’t smell Harry or bleach. So he sat back and waited. A few Muggles scratched his ears as they passed or before boarding the train. Sirius let them without protest. 

He had learned that Muggles, by and large, enjoyed dogs as long as those dogs were gentle, still, and quiet. And if he was anything else — too loud, too quick, or too threatening — they were eager to chase him out or worse, catch him. It was a lesson he had learned early in his life, long before he had become Padfoot; it was just an easier lesson to follow when he was Padfoot. Something about a thick coat of fur, the eyes and ears of a predator, and four paws to run with made him far more comfortable and settled in his own skin than being a young boy in the middle of a war ever had. 

Another train pulled in, and this one, too, didn’t smell of Harry, but the third one did. He followed the Muggles into the carriage, and noticed a small black shadow slip in after him. It hid under the seat, and Sirius pointedly ignored it. He took a post at the door and waited, ready to check each stop this train made until he found Harry.

Regulus had tried desperately to talk him out of this, but Sirius had ignored him. Between him, Lily, and Remus, Sirius was the only one who could track down Harry, and if he didn’t, Lily and Remus would. Lily was far more likely to be recognized on the platform than Padfoot was, making Sirius not only the safest choice, but the most efficient choice, given Padfoot’s hunting instincts.

The first stop didn’t have even a whiff of Harry, but the second one did, though it was no longer paired with bleach. Sirius could only surmise that Harry had healed any open wounds before exiting the train and he felt both relieved and proud. 

That relief vanished almost as soon as he stepped off of the train. This station was enormous. It wasn’t just another Underground station; it was the biggest train station in London. Crowds hurried past, chasing after trains. Others clustered around kiosks and maps. Sirius’ heart sank. Harry could have boarded a train to practically anywhere from here, even Paris. 

The small black shadow slunk out of the carriage behind him and slipped into a tiny space beneath a nearby bin. Padfoot put his wet nose to the ground and followed Harry’s faint scent to a ticket station. From there it was difficult to determine where to go next. He thought he had a faint trail of Harry’s blood but it was unusual, mixed with something else.

“Pardon me, sir,” a nearby Muggle said, “but you need to have your dog on a lead at all times —”

“Oh,” a man looked down at Padfoot. “He’s not my dog.”

Sirius decided to follow the scent of Harry’s blood. It led him out of the station and away from the Underground service workers. The last thing he needed was for a well-meaning Muggle to try to help him find his owner. The few times it had happened in the past, he had always had James to bail it out.

Sirius shook off the stab of grief that came with the thought. It was always easier to shake off grief as Padfoot, as if the same abilities that heightened his physical senses dulled the sharper edges of his hurt. Besides, he reminded himself, there was nothing he could do for James right now, not until they were able to find whatever Death Eater prison he was being held in — and they had to believe he was being held. What Sirius could do was find Harry.

Though it had been less than twenty-four hours since Harry had passed through here, London had a way of making people invisible, of burying passersby in the scent of automobile smog and endless eateries. Sirius had to work hard to discern the scent of Harry’s blood through it all, but he managed to follow the trail south for less than a mile until it disappeared into a tall, brown-brick residential building.

Padfoot sat down on the pavement and evaluated his options. It would not be hard to sniff out Harry, if he truly was in this building, but a large dog was likely to be chased out of a private building. As Sirius, it wouldn’t be hard to charm his way into the building, but it might be harder to find Harry.

Padfoot barked softly at the bushes. The black cat that had been tailing him crawled out. He knew Regulus had no interest in helping him, and had only come along as emergency backup in case of a duel, but Padfoot gestured his head towards the building anyway.

The small, black cat stared at Padfoot, then back up at the building. Reluctantly, he slipped up the stairs and into the building on the heels of an unsuspecting resident.

Padfoot sniffed the stone retaining wall. Plenty of people had passed through here, but he didn’t smell Harry, not exactly. He definitely smelled the blood trail he had been following, but that wasn’t the same thing as Harry’s scent. He wondered if it was Greyback who had come through here, but Sirius was fairly certain that he would recognize Greyback’s scent if he came across it.

He wondered, briefly, if Regulus had been right when he had said that Sirius was better off staying with Remus and Lily, rather than hunting down Harry. The full moon was just two days away, and he knew Remus was nervous. Brewing the Wolfsbane Potion had been impossible this week. They had been moving too frequently to get together the ingredients, and they still hadn’t figured out where Remus was going to transform. Lily would need to be somewhere safe but on hand in case of emergency, and they couldn’t be anywhere too open that might put others at risk. Tonks had, kindly, suggested hers and her mother’s home, but that had only sent Remus into another downward spiral. Remus was wary enough of transforming around people he loved when he had the Wolfsbane Potion to keep his mind. He was never going to allow himself to lose control with Tonks so close at hand.

Sirius tried to shake his worries off. Remus was tomorrow’s problem. Harry was today’s.

Regulus returned from his investigation surprisingly quickly. He hurried across the street and over a low wall, into some plants. When he stepped out as himself, Sirius reluctantly followed and also used the wall as cover to return to his human form.

“What did you find?” Sirius asked.

Regulus smoothed the front of his cloak. “Harry isn’t there.”

“I know.”

“Then why did we come here?”

Sirius swung his legs over the wall. “Because someone here has information about Harry. Did you follow the blood trail?”

“It’s going to be a dead end.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t use that word.”

“The trail is cold, Sirius. We have no way to know where Harry has gone.”

“Give me a flat number and I’ll go myself.”

Regulus hesitated, but Sirius knew he would give in. They were stubborn, the both of them, but Regulus had never built up the tolerance for conflict that Sirius had. Sirius could thrive in the center of chaos; he’d had to in order to survive. Regulus, however, invested too much effort in fighting chaos. It was always going to be a losing battle.

Regulus crossed the street, back to the building. He pointed his wand at the lock, but it didn’t budge.

Sirius looked over Regulus’ shoulder. “Oh, it’s one of those keypads? <i>Alohomora</i> is no good.” He dug his own wand out and aimed a hot white spark. It fizzed and sputtered and then the lock clicked.

Regulus pulled the door open. “Did you break it?”

Sirius shrugged. “They malfunction all the time. Keeps the Muggle maintenance men employed.”

Regulus led Sirius upstairs to the top floor and gestured at a door near the stairwell. “The trail leads here. But I didn’t see, hear, or smell anything to indicate that Harry might be here. I can’t imagine Harry would have stayed in London.”

“No, but if whoever lives here had Harry’s blood on them, they might be able to tell us something.”

“And if that person is a Death Eater?”

“Then I guess we’ll duel them.” Sirius knocked on the door.

“We aren’t even going to try to disguise ourselves?” Regulus hissed at him, but Sirius couldn’t answer, because the door opened.

The gentleman in the doorway wore a fine Muggle suit. His skin was dark and he had a neatly trimmed beard and shaved head. He looked about Sirius’ age, and was about as tall, though definitely rounder in both face and build.

He looked over the two of them and raised a thick eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

Sirius held out his hand. “I hope so. My name’s Sirius.”

“Nigel Brooks,” he said, and shook Sirius’ hand warily. His eyes drifted over Sirius’ shoulder to Regulus, but Sirius had a feeling Regulus would not be keen on an introduction.

Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a photograph. “We’re trying to find someone, and we think you might have run into him.” The picture of Harry was from Remus’ wedding. He had folded it over so that Ron and Hermione were hidden, along with most of the movement in the picture. Harry still blinked and his smile moved slightly, but Sirius hoped the Muggle would just think it a trick of the light.

Brooks took the photo to examine it more closely, then shrugged. “Might’ve seen him around.” He looked Sirius and Regulus over again. “You don’t look like police.”

Sirius glanced down at his worn jeans and leather jacket. “Hardly,” he said. “I’m his godfather. His mother’s awfully worried. We’re just trying to get some information.”

Brooks returned the photograph. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Best of luck, though.”

He started to close the door, but Sirius wedged his foot in the door. “We know you saw him, and at the very least, got his blood on you. We’re just trying to find out where he might have gone. There are dangerous people after him.”

Nigel straightened, and Sirius recognized a familiar determination in his dark eyes. “If what you say is true, and if I really did run into a young man, injured and running for his life, then what makes you think I would tell the first strangers who knocked on my door anything about him?”

“We’re his family.”

“Family can’t be dangerous?” Brook’s voice was cold, and Sirius, while he appreciated the man’s desire to protect Harry, felt outmatched. He didn’t feel outmatched very often.

“His name is Harry,” Regulus said, “and all we want is to know that he’s alive. You don’t have to tell us where he went, just tell us that he’s safe.”

Brooks stared at Regulus for a moment, then opened the door so it was no longer pressing on Sirius’ foot. “He’s alive, as far as I know. There was a lot of blood, but his injuries weren’t as bad as they looked. I thought whoever was chasing him had torn his wrist open, but when he showed it to me, there wasn’t even a scratch. He refused to go to hospital, just said he wanted out of the city, so I put him on a train. That’s the last I saw of him.”

“Has anyone else come asking for him?”

“No. You’re the first.”

“Thank you for your help.” Regulus inclined his head. “Sirius, we’re done here.”

Sirius did not think they were done. He wanted to know exactly which train Harry had gotten on. But Regulus was already leaving.

“Reg — wait —” But Regulus did not wait. Sirius eyed Brooks, but he supposed Regulus was right. They weren’t going to get anything more out of this man.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Sirius —” Brooks hesitated, and Sirius waited, hopeful.

But Brooks gave them neither a train nor destination. Instead, he handed Sirius a small business card. “If you find him, I’d like to know he’s alright.”

Sirius looked down at the plain white card. It had the man’s name printed on it and the contact information for an art gallery. 

“I’d find him faster if you’d tell me more.”

“He told me he was going to find his aunt and uncle,” Brooks said. “If you’re really his family, it shouldn’t be hard for you to track them down.” And he closed the door.

Sirius walked away, more confused than when they had arrived. He met Regulus at the bottom of the stairs.

“Did he tell you anything?” Regulus asked.

Sirius handed Regulus the business card. “He said Harry went to stay with an aunt and uncle. Do you think he meant Tonks and Remus?”

“I suppose that would be a simple way to explain their relationship to a stranger. Why would Harry go to Remus?”

“Maybe a fight with Greyback scared some sense in him.” Sirius found himself hoping it was true rather than believing it was true. Harry had been pushing them away all summer, and Sirius thought one duel unlikely to have changed Harry’s mind. Harry had his mother’s stubbornness, after all. 

Regulus handed the card back to Sirius. “I suppose there’s nothing else to do. We’ll just have to trust this man Brooks’ word that Harry is safe.”

“We’re hardly done.” Sirius was already walking back to the station at a brisk pace. “Now we show Harry’s photograph on the platforms. We start with the line headed for Tonks, and pray he didn't actually board a train to Paris.”

An unusual anger sparked in Regulus’ cold gaze as he hurried after Sirius. Not that Regulus never got angry, but he usually tempered it so well. “Harry is wanted by some of the most dangerous people in the world and you think it's a good idea to flash his picture around to every blasted Muggle in London — you’re also wanted by those same people! You can't just spend a day on a platform where they're surely to be looking for Harry — it’s absurd!”

Regulus' general frown of displeasure twitched with his outburst. His nose scrunched the tiniest bit and his already thin lips seemed to disappear. He looked so much like Narcissa. Sirius looked away, wishing his brother could wear someone else’s face. He wished, more often than not, that he could wear someone else’s face, too. Perhaps that was just another reason it was so much easier to be Padfoot.

“We’ll wear disguises.” Sirius surprised himself with the “we.” He had never wanted Regulus to come along on this hunt in the first place, but suddenly he was not keen on Regulus leaving him to it alone. “Hell we could even pretend to be Hit Wizards, deputised with hunting Harry down, if any wizards question us.”

“But the Muggles, Sirius! You’ll have to Obliviate every single one of them that you talk to, or else the Death Eaters or Hit Wizards or Muggle-born Registration Commision or Snatchers or any other group of wizards that want you and I dead could interrogate them and track it back to us — or worse back to Harry.”

“That will take us forever —”

“Why can't you just let Harry go? You know he got away from Greyback. Brooks put him on a train, helped him, made sure he wasn’t injured, so he must be safe somewhere. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Not for me, and not for Lily nor Remus.” It wouldn’t be enough for James, either.

“You can't protect him from everything, Sirius. He’s seventeen now, and whatever Dumbledore’s asked of him —”

Anger flared hot and bright in Sirius' chest as he whirled on Regulus, and there was no Padfoot to soften the edges as he snarled Regulus words back at him. “‘Whatever Dumbledore’s asked of him’? Harry’s told us you're in on it so don't give me that hippogriff shit acting like you don't know. Like you're not keeping all the same secrets from us as Harry is. Like this is somehow less your fault, just because you slink away from arguments whenever you damn well please.”

Regulus’ temper faded from his face, replaced with an unusual, stricken expression that Sirius was not sure he had ever seen on his brother. Blacks felt many things, and usually felt them strongly, but fear? That wasn't something Sirius had seen in any of his cousins before, nor his brother.

But to Regulus’ credit, he did not transform into a cat and run away. He carefully schooled his expression back into its traditional calm and proud with a dash of disdainful form.

“I’ll help you find Harry,” he finally said in a quiet, almost apologetic voice. “But we Transfigure our disguises, no Polyjuice. It's too unreliable. And we Obliviate every Muggle we meet — don’t argue with me on this, Sirius! Yes, it will take longer, but it will keep Harry safer, and I trust that wherever he has run off to, he is indeed safe. We would have heard otherwise if he wasn't.”

Sirius took in several deep breaths to make sure his anger was cooled, at least enough that it would not attract the attention of those passing by them on the pavement, before speaking again. “Fine. Let’s do what we can today. And I want to put a word in the paper to Tonks, just in case he really did mean that he was on his way to her and Remus.”

“The paper? Sirius —”

“Not the <i>Prophet</i>. I’m not an idiot. Tonks, Remus, and I have a code we use for personals in the <i>Times</i>. Her idea. Said her dad used to use it in the first war to communicate with some of his Muggle-born friends, at first just after he and Andromeda eloped and had gone to ground to avoid her family, then as part of the war effort.”

Regulus shook his head. “It’s still risky —”

“It’s a war. There’s risk. Accept it and move on. The longer you whine about it, the longer nothing gets done.”

Regulus studied Sirius, and Sirius did not care for the intent look on Regulus’ face, almost like Regulus was trying to peer directly into his thoughts. It reminded him too much of their mother, trying to parse just how much trouble Sirius was in, just how much damage he had done.

But Regulus did not scold Sirius, nor criticise him. “I’m sorry,” he said instead. “You're right.”

Had Sirius been in a slightly better mood, he might have had a joke ready, made Regulus repeat his apology. As it stood, Sirius had trouble accepting it at all. Perhaps it was no real wonder he and Regulus had grown so far apart. Even when one reached out, the other couldn't bother to reach back.

He zipped up his jacket, suddenly cold, though it was only the middle of the afternoon, and kicked his boots against a nearby wall. It didn't lessen his frustration. 

And after a full day walking up and down train platforms, talking to and Obliviating every Muggle they met, Sirius was no less frustrated. The task ahead of them was enormous, and with each passing day that left them with no leads, it seemed more and more futile.

But there was nothing else to do. Lily and Remus did their part connecting with the Order, hunting down rumors of sightings of Harry, while Regulus and Sirius plodded on through Muggle after Muggle and Memory Charm after Memory Charm.

It was two full moons more before, finally, a Muggle woman frowned as she looked at the photo.

“I think… Goodness it’s been a while, but I think I did see him. Or I saw a boy who looked like him. Had red hair. I thought it odd with his complexion, but it was a dark sort of red, I suppose. The glasses… I can’t remember if he was wearing them or not. He was a twitchy lad, though, rather unhappy face. Is he in some sort of trouble?”

“No,” Sirius said, though it was not exactly true. He spoke quickly, anxious to get every detail out of this woman. “I’m his godfather, just trying to track him down. Can you tell me where he went?”

She pursed her lips. “I think… it must have been the rail line that goes out to Portsmouth — yes, I was visiting my sister that day, and I remember he had a large pack. I thought he must be on his way home from a walking tour.”

Sirius could not fathom what might have attracted Harry to Portsmouth. He wondered if it had something to do with Dumbledore. Maybe Regulus would know, but Regulus said nothing, mere stood at Sirius’ side, waiting to Obliviate this poor woman as soon as she was done talking.

“Do you know where he got off the train?” Sirius asked.

She frowned and handed the photograph back to Sirius. “I don’t know… he tripped over my bag on his way out. I felt awful. It… oh! It was Guildford. Yes, I remember, because —”

“Thank you so much for your time,” Regulus interrupted. Then, her eyes glassed over. She blinked at Sirius and Regulus, slowly, uncertain.

“Er — can I help you?” she asked.

“No, thanks,” Sirius grunted, and as soon as she was gone, he whirled on Regulus. “She might have had more information!”

“We needed to know where Harry had gone. Now we know. What else could she have told us? It’s not as if she followed him off the train. Besides, Sirius, she saw Harry over a month ago. There’s no way Harry’s still in Guildford, no reason he would stay in one place for so long.”

“Are you sure?” Sirius lowered his voice and tried to keep the threatening tone out of it, but he found it difficult. “You don’t know of anything in Guildford that might keep him there? Nothing to do with Dumbledore or You-Know-Who?”

Regulus’ stare was even, but that didn’t tell Sirius much. “Nothing. And if you can’t think of anything that would keep him there, then all we can do is go down there and see if some other Muggle happens to remember him passing through months ago — there’s just no sense in it. We know he got away safely. Let that be enough.”

Sirius was no longer listening to Regulus. He had plucked a map from a kiosk and was staring at Guildford on the network of spider web lines spiraling out from Waterloo Station, trying to make sense of why it had appealed to Harry.

“I’m an idiot,” he finally said.

“That’s nothing new,” Regulus said.

“Brooks told us where he was going from the beginning and I was too stupid to understand.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He was going to see his aunt and uncle, is what Brooks said. Not Tonks and Remus — his mum’s sister. Her Muggle family.”

“Does Harry even know them?”

“He knows they’re in hiding, and he knows their house will be empty — bloody hell I can’t believe I’m that thick.” Sirius balled the map up in his fist.

“Should we tell Lily and Remus —”

“Let’s make sure he’s there before we get their hopes up.” Sirius fought down another grunt of frustration. He had not felt this stupid in a long time, but how was he supposed to connect Harry to Petunia and Vernon, whom Harry had met perhaps twice in his life? He did not even wait to slip away to a hidden corner of the platform to Disapparate. He turned on the spot, in the midst of a crowd of Muggles, ignoring all of Regulus’ protests, and disappeared with a crack.

[lafleaurie]

the locket

author’s note: HEY this isn’t going to be divided up into chapters but it will be REALLY long so I’ll divide it up into different parts in one post so you can take a break in case you need one and pick up where you left off (that idea was taken from someone I follow but I can’t remember who it was so if you’re reading this and you’ve done that, all credits go to you!) also my history of world war II is VERY VERY limited, I am almost 25 and haven’t been in high school for like maybe 6-7 years and I’ve forgotten everything they taught us soooo please forgive me if I got any history wrong, movie or real life. also I know Erskine dies after he’s helped Steve but we’re gonna pretend he dies after he helps y/n

warnings: mentions of torture, death

this is a collab with @smuttybucky with the help of @barnesand, I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

He had no idea, and now, he never would. 

You had known Steve since you guys were children. Steve was like your brother. You’d always known him to be patriotic, courageous, always doing the right thing. You had an immense amount of love for him, but you knew how he always got himself in fights. You were always there for him after them, patching him up and making sure he was okay. He was really grateful for everything you did for him. 

You both were inseparable growing up, you being there for him after he had gotten almost beaten to death multiple times, him being there for you when you got your heart broken. Like that one time you got stood up on your date and he was supposed to have shown up an hour ago before that, but Steve was there to put a smile on your face and make you feel better. 

So when he mentioned he had a friend for you, one that you would probably like, you weren’t too keen on agreeing to meet him. After all, you really liked this guy who was telling you sweet nothings, and even having you agree to go on a date he didn’t even show up to. Steve was adamant about it though, and wouldn’t stop bugging you about it. He begged you to at least hang out with them both at the bar for a couple minutes and if you didn’t like him or you weren’t comfortable, you could go home. It took a lot of begging, but finally, you agreed to it. And, boy, was Steve happy. He was ecstatic even, because now, his two best friends were finally going to meet. You weren’t giving your hopes up though, as your heart had been broken far too many times. 

That night, you put on a pretty yet conservative dress that was red and adorned with flowers all over it. Nothing too fancy, but you felt pretty in it. You let the curls in your hair fall out and let it fall to the side, putting on some lipstick and decided you looked good enough. 

You walked yourself to the bar where Steve and his friend were, walking in, taking in the scent of liquor and the music that was playing, noticing some drunk men already singing along. Steve spotted you right away. 

“Y/n! Over here!” You turned to where you heard your name and smiled when you saw Steve, leaned up against the bar with another man beside him which you assumed was his friend he had begged you to meet. You gave Steve a small hug, greeting him with a big smile as he did the same. 

“Y/n, I’d like you to meet my friend, James,” Steve motioned over to the man standing beside him, putting his hand his shoulder. James looked at Steve and smiled as he did so, bringing his look to you and looking you up and down, before looking back up at your eyes, giving you a sweet smile.

“You can just call me Bucky,” he stuck his hand out for you to shake, and you looked at it for a second before reaching yours out too, shaking it gently. 

“Y/n. Nice to meet you, Bucky,” you said quietly, staring at him for a second and admiring his features, noticing how handsome he looked. When he looked at you and noticed you staring, you looked away quickly, standing in between the two men as you leaned against the bar, enjoying the company of them both. 

That night, you and Bucky got along beautifully. He made you laugh all night, telling you cheesy jokes, giving you small compliments here and there, it was almost like Steve was invisible. Which he didn’t mind, he knew how badly you needed someone like him but he also noticed how Bucky was looking at you all night. Like you were the sun. Like you were what he needed. And you were doing the same. He had never seen the both of you act like that before in the entire years he’d known you two. 

You and Bucky were inseparable after that. If either of you weren’t working, you were spending time with each other. Of course, Steve was usually always there, he was an important person to you both. Not only was a good friend to the both of you, but he was the reason the both of you knew each other. He was the reason you guys were slowly but surely falling for each other. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

PART 2

You and Steve were hanging out one day while Bucky was spending time with some family, and he was talking about enlisting in the army again. Something he always talked about, and you never got tired of hearing. 

“Steve...can I ask you something?” you were hesitant to ask at first, because you were afraid of what his reaction would be but it came out of your mouth anyway. 

“Sure you can,” Steve gave you a reassuring smile as he looked up at you while you two were walking along the sidewalk downtown. You thought for a second, wanting to word your question carefully. You kept your eyes fixated on your feet as you both walked, your hands crossed over your chest. 

“Do you think...if a woman wanted to join the army...she could?” you regretted the words right as they came out of your mouth as you looked up at him. He kept his eyes on the ground as you both walked, his hands in his pockets. 

“What, you mean like holding a gun and everything?” he chuckled softly at the thought of his best friend holding a gun, the woman he always saw as someone so kind and generous. He couldn’t see her killing a fly. You laughed along with him at his words, shaking your head. 

“No, no, definitely not. I was thinking...maybe a nurse?” You cringed physically because you weren’t sure how well that would work but you did have a medical background so you’d probably do pretty well. Steve paused for a second before finally speaking, shrugging as he spoke. 

“I don’t see why not,” he kept his eyes on his feet as he walked and then looked at you, his hands still in his pockets. “I think you’d be great at that.” 

You smiled at his kind words and nodded gently, because that alone had you making up your mind instantly. You went with Steve as he enlisted, expecting him to be rejected right away. They had asked you a few questions as you signed up to be a nurse, and they immediately took you in. You were to be set off tomorrow morning with the 107th. You were ecstatic, and you couldn’t wait to tell Bucky. You weren’t sure about Steve though, whether he had been rejected or they actually took him. You didn’t see him when you left the building. You had to go home and get ready though, so you couldn’t waste your time waiting for him that night. 

You and Bucky had plans to attend the Stark EXPO that night and you were beaming with excitement. He was set to pick you up at 8 o’clock on the dot, and boy, was he right on time. You giggled to yourself as you saw his car pull up, grabbing your purse and practically running straight out the door. He was already of his car when you ran outside, holding the car door open for you. You ran up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his cheek with a huge smile on your face. He wrapped his arms around your waist, chuckling at the affection he was receiving. 

The both of you held hands the whole way to the EXPO, both of you radiating excitement and love for each other. He told you about his day, and you told him about his. He told you about how he was drafted into the army and he was being shipped out tomorrow morning for the 107th. Your jaw dropped. 

“Bucky, I’m shipped out tomorrow morning for the 107th! I’m a nurse for the men!” You were glowing, and he turned to you with surprise on his face. The both of you rambled on about how now, they were able to watch each other and make sure the other was safe. You were both just bursting from excitement, and you reached over to him as you kissed him on the cheek while he was driving, a chuckle leaving his lips. 

You both arrived at the EXPO, him opening the door for you as he grabbed your hand, guiding you out of the car. You held onto his bicep as he gripped your hand in his, walking to the building. You could tell Bucky was excited for this and you knew how much he loved technology. You loved when Bucky was this excited, it made your heart explode with adoration and love. 

He gripped your hand in his as he lead through the crowd, everyone smiling as they danced and held their drinks in their hand, mingling with everyone around them. He held onto your hand tightly as you finally arrived at the bar with him, leaning up against as he ordered drinks for the both of you. He kissed your cheek while the both of you were waiting, and you leaned into his chest as you felt nothing but pure bliss in that moment. 

“You know, I got something for you.” You turned to him as he spoke, a smile lighting up your face at those words. 

“And what did you give me, sergeant?” you giggled as you spoke, straightening his color on his war uniform, leaning against his body once again. He dug into his pocket for something, and out came a little box. He brought it up to your hands, and you looked up at him as you took it from him. You smiled as lifted the box lid, and your jaw dropped as you gasped. 

Inside was a beautiful necklace with a heart shaped jewel attached to the chain, but you noticed the heart shaped beauty could be opened. You looked up at him and he gave you a small smile in adoration, encouraging you to open it, which is exactly what you did. Inside was a picture of him in his uniform, smiling softly for the cameraman that took his picture. You covered your mouth as you gasped lightly, holding it in your other hand. 

“Bucky, I- This is...this is breathtaking,” you had no words. You didn’t know what to say, it was more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. He smiled widely at you as he softly took the necklace from you, telling you to turn around so you could put it on. And you did, lifting up your hair so he could latch it on, and it fit perfectly around your neck. Almost like it was made for you. You turned around once you knew it was latched on, facing him, and instantly planting a long, meaningful kiss on his lips. A smile etched onto his lips and soon yours, too, as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“I love you,” he whispered, almost too quietly. You weren’t sure if you had even heard that correctly or if you were just imagining things. You leaned back from his body and looked at him in the eyes, surprise on your face. “I love you, y/n. With everything in me.” 

You kept your eyes fixated on his beautiful blue ones, tears threatening to escape your eyes as you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. A smile slowly made it’s way on your face as you giggled, kissing him with such passion and love, the whole world disappeared, it was just you and him in that moment. You had never felt so much love for someone before, and you were sure he was the one. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

PART 3

The next morning, you were shipped out and ready to help the men who needed your help, and you were ready to do your part for the war. Things were quiet for awhile and you hadn’t really seen Bucky yet, but you knew he was safe. You kept the necklace he gave you wrapped around your neck as the locket was close to your heart. A reminder of how much he loved you. 

It came all at once. 

The Germans started bombing the American’s tent and their landscape, and no one had any time to react. It startled you awake and you heard men screaming from beyond the treeline in German. You were praying Bucky was okay, and something told you that he was, for now. You scrambled out of your cot, running around the medical tent, trying to get all your equipment ready. 

You were helping soldier after soldier after soldier, and you were constantly whipping your head around at the other nurses to try and see if Bucky was hurt but you didn’t see him anywhere. Was he even here? If he wasn’t how long had he been gone? 

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant...” one of the men came running up to the lieutenant, out of breath and clearly scared out of his mind. You stopped what you were doing as you didn’t have a patient currently, trying your hardest to hear what the man had to say without being caught. “Lieutenant, most of the men in the 107th have been killed or captured. We have to move.” 

You gasped at the man’s words, instantly clutching the necklace in your hand. You backed away from your hiding spot, tears pooling up around your eyes, your breathing picking up and you could feel yourself panic. This is it, you thought. He’s dead and now I’m a goner, too. 

You started running back to the medical tent but you were blown back into the ground with a big thud. Your whole body hurt. You coughed as dirt and smoke filled your lungs, and you could feel liquid starting to form on the skin on your chest and stomach, your breathing suddenly becoming harder to manage. You lay there in the ground, accepting death but still trying to fight it at the same time. You saw a man hover above you as he tried to speak to you but all you could hear was a loud ringing in both ears, unable to listen to a word the man said. More men gathered around you as they picked you up and you tried to speak, but the minute you tried to open your mouth, your eyes got heavy. You blacked out, and that was all you remembered that night. 

You woke up in a hospital, but not any hospital where you lived. You wondered if what happened on the battlefield was all just a dream, if you’d see Bucky sitting right next to your hospital bed, waiting for you to wake up...but you looked over and saw no one. You knew this was real. 

Panic started to rise in your throat, breathing becoming more and more difficult. You tried to get up but moving was painful. You groaned and laid back in the bed, nurses came running in, trying to calm you down. You were crying and screaming and trying to break free and they were about to sedate you, but a man came in, interrupting them. 

“No, don’t! Don’t sedate her. I want her to know what we’ve done,” the man spoke, and you noticed he had a German accent. You looked at him, blinking a few times as your breathing was heavy, nurses slowly letting go of your arms as they looked at him too. “Give us a minute.” 

The nurses complied and slowly walked out, hesitant at first but eventually made their way out of the room. You took deep breaths as you carefully watched the man, making his way towards you. You kept your guard up with how anxious you were, how scared you were.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Miss y/l/n. You can relax,” he stopped when he was a few inches from your bed, raising his hands in a surrender motion. Your guard was still up though, and you kept your eyes on him the whole time he was speaking. 

“You took quite a hit last night, y/n. Didn’t you?” you didn’t know how to answer, mostly because most of what happened last night was a blur. All you remembered was being bombed unexpectedly and that was it. As if he read your mind, he spoke back up, “Do you remember what happened?” 

You didn’t answer right away as you tried really hard to rack your brain for any more memories of what happened but nothing came back up. You kept trying but still nothing came up. You slowly shook your head no as you kept your guard up. The man sighed, as he sat in the chair next to you, holding his hands together. 

“Miss y/l/n, let me introduce myself first.” He looked up at you before pausing for a second, taking a deep breath. “My name is doctor Abraham Erskine. I am a scientist that works for the American Government.” 

“What do you want?” wasted no time asking the most important question, keeping your eyes on him, watching him carefully, your hands in your lap, nervousness still bursting through you. He shrugged at your reply, being nonchalant with his answer. 

“I do not want anything. I am here to help you,” he replied, giving you a friendly smile. You couldn’t be sure if that made you feel better or creeped out, but you were still keeping your guard up. 

“You see, y/n, last night, when the bombing happened, you were injured so badly, you were on the verge of death. In fact, the doctors declared you dead last night at around 2 o’clock in the morning. Your chest and stomach were so torn apart, you wouldn’t have made it anyway.” He got up from his seat and you removed your eyes from him, a blank stare on your face as your head raced with thoughts. I died? 

He started walking around your room, up to a window, looking out as he continued to explain, “I saved your life, y/n. You see, I created this...serum that has been experimented with, I knew it was ready. I just needed someone to try it on. You were the perfect candidate. And now...here you are, alive, all healed up and...��� he paused, and you looked up at him. You weren’t so nervous anymore...but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. 

“And?” He looked at you, taking another deep breath as he walked closer to your bed. 

“Let’s just say now you have special...abilities,” he explained, almost cautiously. You kept your eyes on him as you swallowed, furrowing your eyebrows together. 

“What kind of abilities?” you just wanted a straight answer, and he wasn’t giving you one. You felt frustrated at this point, holding your breath at his reply. 

“Why don’t you take a look at that wound of yours?” he asked, and at first, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of doing what he says, but you were curious. You hurt on the inside, yes, but...on the surface level, you didn’t feel a thing. You slowly peeled your eyes away from him and lifted up your shirt, and your were dumbfounded. Confused. Your ran your fingers over your practically healed skin, not believing what you were seeing. You dropped your shirt back down, still in disbelief. 

“Your healing abilities are quite resourceful, Miss y/l/n. You not only heal yourself, but others, too,” the doctor put his hands behind as his back as he looked at you expectantly, but you were still reeling from the fact that your wounds were fully healed. How was that even possible? It wasn’t, right? 

“You could change the war, y/n. You could change the world,” he said, giving you another friendly smile as he slowly made his way to his seat where his suitcase was, grabbed it, his hat and walked out. You laid there in your hospital bed, your mind still racing from all the information you’ve just gathered. You raised both of your hands up and stared at them, amazed and shocked at what new abilities you possessed now. You had to find out how to work it, how to use it properly. 

Luckily for you, the doctor was in contact with you the next day. He was waiting for you outside your apartment after you had been released from the hospital, and he was ready to teach you about your new abilities. He took you to his lab, where he was able to properly show you how to use them. It took some time, a couple days, but you got the hang of it pretty soon. You even got to test it out on a couple people. The wounds you healed didn’t heal all the way, just enough to where there was no more blood, and no more pain, but you still used it to the best of your abilities. 

Eventually, you were shipped back out for the war, ready to help the soldiers in need. You kept your eyes open for Bucky, but you never did see him. Clutching the necklace he gave you every so often, you worked diligently and effortlessly, healing soldier after soldier, and everyone around you was so grateful for your work and your dedication. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

PART 4

It wasn’t long before America had finally won the war, all because of Steve, or as they knew him, Captain America. You were hoping to find Steve and thank him for everything he did for his country to save those he loved and cared about, but you had heard what had happened to him, and it broke your heart. You lost your best friend and you had this sick feeling in your stomach that Bucky was gone, too. You tried to hold onto hope, you really did, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible happened to him. 

Peggy found you after the war was over and you guys chatted for a bit to pass the time. She had heard what Erskine had done for you, and congratulated you on your new abilities. She told you about SHIELD, how she helped Steve on important missions like taking down HYDRA. You listened to her tell you stories about him, and you honestly had no idea he had liked her so much. You liked her too, and you decided that if Steve was here today, they would be the perfect couple. You were dreading the answer to this question, but you needed to know if he was okay, just so you could stop yourself from thinking about it too much. 

And when you did, you instantly regretted it. You broke down at her answer. Since you didn’t know Peggy all that well, you thanked her for everything she did, gave her a hug, and headed home. You cried the whole way, but when you got inside your house, it came out all at once. You sobbed, you screamed, you laid on the floor and begged for it to not be true. You never once let go of the beautiful locket he had given you, never took it off. 

You struggled a lot for the next couple days. Not really leaving your house. Your family was worried for you, they hadn’t seen you in days. They would come by and check on you sometimes but you just put on a brave face and told them you were fine. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone about it, and rightfully so, because you had just lost the love of your life. The person you knew you were going to marry. Your heart ached and there wasn’t a day that went by where you didn’t think about him and end up falling apart all over again. 

Weeks, months passed by and it got easier. You worked your way up along with Howard Stark, working under him once he founded Stark Industries. You were his assistant, working closely with him as he paved the way for weapons technology. Working made it easy to not think about Bucky so much, you would work late nights so as not to be alone at home with your thoughts. It got to the point where you could successfully think about him and not completely fall apart. 

Well, almost. 

Years passed. Everyone around you aged, but not you. You knew this, given your healing abilities, and you wished you could keep all your friends and family around you young but unfortunately, that wasn’t how it worked. Thankfully, they knew of what had happened to you and why you weren’t aging so no one asked too many questions as to why they were 90 years old and you were still looking 30. 

Howard eventually got married, and you were ecstatic for him. You were there for him and his beautiful bride at the wedding, supporting them both as you were still helping him out even outside of the office. And Maria was a wonderful, extremely nice woman. You were so happy for them both. Peggy was even there at the wedding too, and she was even aging beautifully. You were really happy to be around the people you looked up to, but you really wished Steve was there with you, and Peggy agreed, with a sad look on her face. 

You wished Bucky was there the most, though. 

Not long after that, Howard and Maria soon had a son, named Tony. You watched Tony grow up into a bright and smart man, following directly into his father’s footsteps, which wasn’t surprising. Tony was a gifted man, and you knew exactly where he got it from. He was a close friend of yours and when you knew he was of age to understand, you told him of your abilities, which he thought was astounding. He asked many questions to which, you tried to answer properly but some of them you just didn’t know the answer to. You wished doctor Erskine was still here today, the man who made you who you were today. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR OK BYE 

​

[butgilinsky]

coming home // np

warning; tooth rotting fluff. not proofread but what’s new

summary; three times nolan comes home to you and the one time you can’t wait

word count; 3.3k+

add yourself to my nhl taglist!

one

roadies were always hard, no matter how long they lasted or how many you had to go through during the duration of your relationship. you should’ve been used to it by now, having upwards of three years under your belt at this point. 

despite becoming accustomed to going weeks at a time without seeing him, it never got easier. every game that required anything more than the short drive over to the wells fargo stadium was a disappointment for the two of you. 

despite not being the most public of relationships, the two of you were inseparable. it had been that way for as long as you could remember and no nhl team was going to change that. 

you were happy to move out to philadelphia after nolan got drafted. you hadn’t even hesitated. you knew that there were chances for him to end up at multiple places across two separate countries, but you weren’t worried about it. you were ready to go wherever he would’ve ended up, and he knew that just as much as you did. 

the apartment felt empty when he was gone, especially for a week or two and you had no one to come home to, nor anyone to wait for on the couch. you had gotten used to seeing nolan once you got home from work, or waiting for him to get home after a long day at practice. you hated the days that the apartment fell quiet, the only sound coming from the tv and your feet shuffling from the couch to your bed. 

thankfully, you only had to wait a few days this time around. the boys were in boston, only playing one game before coming back to their home arena to play the next game in the series. this went over well with you, given that you only had to spend two nights away from nolan. 

it was still pretty early in the evening when you started making food, not entirely sure when nolan was supposed to be home but starting dinner anyway. you had been home for almost two hours by the time you started, not getting very far into the process when the front door swung open. 

you turned over your shoulder, a bright smile on your face as you laid the knife in your hand flat onto the cutting board and turned around to completely face him. he smiled at the sight of you, letting out a heavy sigh when he dropped his bag by the door and wrapped his arms around you. 

he dug his face into your neck, practically melting into your embrace as exhausting rolled over him in waves. he was in the middle of a busy season, and coming home to you was something he looked forward to almost more than anything else. 

“missed you.” it was mumbled into your skin, though you didn’t expect much else from the boy in your arms. you loved him to pieces but even you couldn’t decipher the mumbling at times. 

“i missed you too, baby.” you kissed his cheek, watching the red tint that he hated spread across his cheeks. 

“what are you making?” he lifted his head to scan the kitchen, trying to figure out what dinner would be just from the utensils you had out. 

“pasta.” you shrugged, the entire thought of food completely shoved to the back of your mind as you looked up at the boy who had gotten home only moments prior. 

“want any help?” you smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest as you nodded gently. 

the two of you finished dinner with ease, talking about nolan’s short roadie and what you did while he was away. 

two

the entire week had been hell. you were slammed at work every single day that nolan was gone, and today was no different. you had lost track of how long he’d been gone, stuck between thinking it had been an entire month or only two days.

in all actuality, it had been almost two weeks. usually, you went out with friends to distract you from long roadies like this. sometimes you’d ask the girls to come to your apartment, opting for a wine and movie night, other nights you’d go out to whoever’s bar of choice and just try to distract yourself from the almost vacant space back home. 

this time, though, there was no time for you to do that. you had been drowning in projects back at the office, and though you loved your job and the people that you worked with, it didn’t make it any less stressful. it felt like you were hitting deadline after deadline lately, and all you wanted to do was sleep for the remainder of the time that nolan was on the road. 

you had posted yourself in front of the tv, spread out across the couch with a glass of wine that you had barely taken three sips from before you fell asleep. the tv was still on, ending up on a show that nolan hadn’t recognized once he walked through the door.

he knew you had been busy, so he wasn’t surprised by the sight in front of him. it was earlier than you’d normally go to sleep, but with the last few weeks the two of you had, he figured it wasn’t a bad idea to give yourselves a night of doing absolutely nothing. if you wanted to sleep through it, he was going to let you. 

he dropped his things and kicked his shoes off by the door before he had caught sight of you, wine glass still sitting on the coffee table mere feet from you and tv still playing the program that came on after the movie you’d originally chosen. 

after moving your wine glass and turning off the tv, nolan threaded one of his arms underneath your knee and the other around your back before lifting you into his arms. 

you stirred, being a light sleeper not boding well for you in a time like this. your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively just before you opened your eyes, immediately squinting from the intrusion of light that came through your eyelashes. 

“nol?” he hummed in response, telling you to just go back to sleep and he’d talk to you in the morning. “what time is it? when did you get home?”

“just now.” he laughed gently as he kicked your bedroom door open and set you gently on your side of the bed. 

“wait.” you reached for his arm before he could get too far away, gripping onto his bicep gently. “my wine.”

“i put it in the fridge. it’ll be waiting for you tomorrow night, baby.” you hummed and nodded, allowing yourself to relax back into place as nolan got ready for bed. 

when he slipped into the spot beside you moments later, he brought you close to him, smiling when you leaned into his side. 

“i love you.” your voice was groggy, slightly mumbled and raspy, which made him laugh. he was usually the mumbling one, and here you were, talking through your battle against sleep. 

“i love you too, sleeping beauty.” he kissed the top of your head just before you surrendered yourself to sleep. 

three

it’s not how long he was gone, but the fact that he had to leave just two weeks before your anniversary. the two of you had managed to spend your first three together, and neither of you planned on skipping the fourth one. 

you had known each other a lot longer than the span of your relationship, but that didn’t make the day any less special to the two of you. you had offered to make the trip out to the games, but the last stop of the roadie was pittsburgh, and nolan assured you that he was going to do everything he had to do in order to be home in time. 

to say that you were excited when you woke up to a text telling you that he’d be home before noon propelled you out of bed. it almost felt surreal. he was going to be home an entire day before your anniversary, which meant you wouldn’t have to wake up or fall asleep in an empty bed.

after getting ready and receiving multiple texts from travis telling you that nolan was being absolutely insufferable, you made the trip to the airport, waiting patiently for your boyfriend’s plane to land. 

there were only a few other people in the small lot you had to wait in. most of the boys drove themselves, not wanting to burden their families with going back and forth to the airport at odd hours of the day, but you didn’t mind. 

you just wanted to see nolan. 

you would’ve been able to spot him from miles away. besides his coat being a dead giveaway, you watched travis sport a wide grin and hold his arms out to his sides at the sight of you. nolan shoved him playfully, surely mumbling something about his best friend being far more annoying than he ever was. 

you couldn’t stop the smile from taking up half of your face when he finally reached you, wrapping you in a tight hug that constricted your breathing, though you couldn’t seem to care. 

"hi baby.” you sighed out at the sound of his voice, relaxing into his hold but still holding onto him tightly.

“hi.” you hummed in return, finally releasing him and laughing when travis held his arms out for a hug. 

“thank god you’re here. he hasn’t shut up the entire morning.” travis exaggerated, though you weren’t surprised, and you laughed. 

“seems like the tables have turned, eh?” you watched nolan roll his eyes despite the smile inching up his lips while travis laughed and pulled back from you. “do you need a ride?” 

travis shook his head, thanking you for the offer before muttering something about nolan threatening him back on the plane. travis knew just as much as anyone else what tomorrow was, and he wasn’t going to prolong the reunion the two of you were looking forward to. 

after waving to travis, along with a few others, you slipped into the car, watching nolan reach for the aux on impulse. you smiled to yourself, never being able to wrap your head around the fact that every time he came home you fell into the same routine with ease. 

no time away from one another was ever enough to cause unnecessary tension between the two of you. no, it wasn’t always easy by any means, but the two of you knew this system all too well by now. through nolan’s time playing hockey growing up, to when he moved to brandon to play in the whl, and now even in the nhl, the two of you stuck together. 

he caught you smiling, a slightly dazed look in your eyes as you watched the road. 

“why are you smiling like that?” you glanced at him, letting out a soft sigh when his hand landed on your thigh, his thumb moving back and forth instinctively. 

“i don’t think i’ll ever get used to the feeling i get when you come home.” your voice was hushed, barely enough to reach his ears over the soft lull of music filling the car. but he heard it. he heard every word. 

“i don’t think i’ll ever get used to the feeling i get when i come home to you.” your right hand dropped from the steering wheel, landing on his enough to wrap them around one another. 

“i love you, nol.” 

“i love you too, baby.”

one

landing in dallas felt slightly surreal. you had to navigate most of it on your own, given that the only person you thought of asking to direct you were nolan and travis. given that nolan didn’t know you were even in dallas and travis was attached at his hip at all times, it made it slightly difficult for you to ask either of them for help. 

you did a decent job at finding your way around, not having much time before the game started anyways. the entire trip had been rush planned between you and travis, and you were both dealing with outside situations at the same time as trying to plan an impulsive trip across the country that was also supposed to remain top secret. 

a few of the other guys knew you were coming, given travis’s lack of ability to organize everything on his own while also trying to shield it from nolan. being that the two of them were always together, and travis wasn’t the best at planning things or keeping secrets, it was all a bit of a shit show. 

you had lost track of how long the boys had been on the road. all you knew was that you were here tonight, and you’d be able to see him. even if you weren’t able to stay for long, even if the next few hours were going to be spent in a packed stadium you were unfamiliar with. it didn’t matter, because you’d see nolan soon enough. 

you had answered travis the third time he called you, telling him to calm down and that you were safe and sound at your hotel. you were going to make it, even if you didn’t have time to see nolan before the game. 

it was a good game for nolan. three points, two goals. one scored in the first period and the other being the one that gave them the lead with only two minutes of game left. it had you out of your seat, screaming at the top of your lungs with the rest of the flyers fans around you. 

when the last buzzer sounded through the stadium, you practically sprinted out of your seat. you followed the directions that travis had texted to you, though they weren’t the best directions he could’ve given, you appreciated everything he had done for you in the past couple of days. 

it had been his idea to fly you out to dallas, and he made sure to put together everything for you. all you had to do was clear your schedule and show up to your flight and the game. all things you could do with ease. 

when he finally found you, after searching through various hallways for somewhere around ten minutes after he had showered and changed, you saw him sight out in relief. 

“i thought i was never going to find you.” he said once he reached you. 

you laughed, wrapping him in a tight hug while thanking him repeatedly for the entire thing. you laughed again when he told you it was nothing, claiming that you made nolan much more bearable if anything. 

nolan made his media rounds. given the game he had, he knew it was inevitable. he was still on his high from the game, adrenaline still pumping through his veins and heart thudding in his chest. he answered questions with ease, thankful that he had time to shower and change before this entire process began. 

nolan wasn’t a big pda guy. the two of you kept most of that to yourselves, not doing much more than holding hands outside of the confines of your apartment. you didn’t mind it, liking the fact that your relationship wasn’t completely drawn out for everyone to see. however, there were times where nolan’s emotions built up high enough to surpass his privacy preferences. 

he had been pulled out of his line of focus at the sound of your laugh, but he quickly shoved it to the back of his mind when he figured he was hearing things. he shook the thought from his head, telling himself to get back into the mindset of the media he was in the middle of. 

he was asked another question, the answer sitting on the tip of his tongue just as you rounded the corner with travis. the black jersey sitting on your shoulders was a stark difference from the slew of green ones he had seen throughout the night, and it tore his focus away from the interview completely. 

“no fucking way.” he muttered softly, his eyes locking with your own as a smile spread across your lips, your conversation with travis completely forgotten about. 

he excused himself from the people surrounding him, leaving them with the softest and quickest apology he could manage before making the short distance over to you. 

his momentum lifted you off of he ground, arms wrapped around you tightly as you quickly locked your ankles behind his back. you squealed softly at the impact, laughing when your back hit the nearest wall. nolan squeezed you as if his life depended on it, not being able to grasp the fact that you were actually here, right now, in front of him. 

“hey superstar.” you whispered softly, running your hand through his wet hair on instinct. 

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you laughed, pulling his head out of your neck gently. 

you held his head in your hands, fingers splayed across his cheeks as you looked directly into his eyes, bright smiles mirroring one another. the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. you made the right decision flying down to dallas. 

“i couldn’t wait.” you shook your head gently, watching his lips turn up even further, something you thought was impossible at this point. 

“i love you so much. i don’t think you’ll ever understand.” you shook your head gently before leaning your forehead against his. 

“i understand.” you whispered softly, allowing your eyes to fall shut. “i love you more than anything, nol.” 

he closed the gap between the two of you, leaning up the slightest bit in order to connect your lips. it was firm, and it was filled with passion that you had been stripped of for weeks. you hadn’t been able to see him, hold him, kiss him and tell him everything he means to you for weeks. 

you hated roadies. 

he pulled back only when he had to, both of you drained of any breath you previously had as you kissed the other like your life depended on it. 

“how?” your eyes shifted to travis, who stood off to the side with a warm smile playing at his lips. 

he knew how much nolan loved you. he was the one that had to hear about it when you two were separated. though he joked about it being annoying, he couldn’t complain since nolan offered him time to do the same. no matter how much he’d chirp nolan for being wrapped completely around your finger, he found it unbelievably endearing every time nolan spoke about you. 

“tk.” nolan turned over his shoulder, hands moving to support your thighs as he made eye contact with his best friend. 

travis nodded and held out a hand, telling nolan that a thanks wasn’t necessary. he knew nolan would’ve done the same for him, and that’s all he needed. he was happy to see nolan so happy, he didn’t need recognition for being behind it. 

the boy shared a nod before travis made his way back towards the locker room, offering to round up his and nolan’s things so the two of you could have another minute before you’d have to leave the stadium and figure out what you were doing for the rest of the night. 

“i can’t believe you’re here.” you looked back at the blue eyes that never failed to fill you with every emotion you’d ever felt. 

“you can pinch yourself later.” he let out a soft laugh at that, allowing you to jump back onto your own feet but not letting you move from his grasp just yet. 

“what am i supposed to do until then?” he quirked an eyebrow up, watching you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“you could start by kissing me again.” you poked his chest lightly, smiling widely at the sound of a genuine laugh falling from his lips. 

“i can manage that.”

-

nolpat taglist; @extratragic​ @shelbsays​​ @teenagekook​​ @stfukie​​ @kiedhara​ @sadcupofcoffee​

tagging the himbos; @dmonchld​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @dreamypeaches​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @anxietyandtacos​

[ackermans-freedom-inc]

A/N: I had this sitting there in my drafts for too long now, uneditable by my brain yet somehow I couldn't bring myself to delete it so I figured I’d just post it. The hints dropped as to my favourite classical music pieces seem to be the redeeming factor in this fic! Give em a listen! :D 

Accompany Me - Musician AU, fem!reader x Levi 

Crying was not a usual sound one would hear while taking a stroll through the practice rooms of the music building, but with every step, the sound grew to be unmistakable. The sniffles, blowing of the nose, and hiccupping sobs making him feel uneasy. Rounding the corner, Levi expected to see some poor kid who had gotten scolded by the professor for not practicing enough that week, but was met instead by your figure, clad in a dark purple satin dress, long and flowy, making you look like some modern reincarnation of a Greek goddess.

And just like so many characters from the myths, you were sobbing, violin concerto clutched between your fingers, tears clinging to the score, droplets shaking with each sob you let out.

“Oi. Y/N. Mendelssohn isn’t going to be happy you’re defiling his work.”

You looked up, regarding the man who spoke with teary and unfocused eyes, barely registering the tissue he offered.

You stifled the next sob and sniffed, desperate not to drip any more tears on your music and make the situation any worse.

“The way you’re dressed looks like you’re practicing for a recital. What happened?”

His soft voice was something to focus on, and you scooched over on the faculty couches, patting the spot next to you, a courtesy and he obliged.

“Oh hey. Levi right?”

You knew the talented pianist from watching many recitals your friends had put on, but hadn’t really talked to him much yourself, always having a designated pianist up until today.

“I’m playing tomorrow for the winter recital,” you sniffed, dabbing at the wet spots on your dog-eared pages in an attempt to save it, “but my accompanist just dumped me, so I’m down a pianist and a boyfriend. I have to play without accompaniment tomorrow…I, I…I’ll have to get some sort of pre-recorded accompaniment or play solo and -”

You let out another sob, this one sounding more like a laugh.

“God I’m so sorry I’m okay. Please, go practice I don’t want to take up your time.”

Levi dug around in his backpack for a second, pulling a thick score out.

“Violin concerto in E minor?”

You nodded.

“I played this a while ago with another violinist from the faculty as her audition piece for the concerto competition. If you want to give it a go?”

You just blinked, staring at what had to be your modern-day knight in shining armour.

“Are you saying- ”

“Yah, if we get this down, I’ll play with you tomorrow for your recital. Those recordings are fucking awful, and how the hell are you supposed to play a concerto solo. Idiot.”

“Really?? Really Levi? You’d do that for me? I know we don’t know each other well at all and it’ll be our first concert together but I really think I can do it really well and I practiced really hard and - ”

He stopped you again by standing and jerking his head toward the practice room next door.

“Let’s see how our first pass goes, brat.”

From the moment your bow hit the strings, the piece flowed like you two had been partners for weeks, Levi’s fingers picking up the part quickly despite not having played it in a couple months.

You stopped often, listening to his advice about where to play a little softer, where to take more time, and circling the areas where you needed to ease off to let his melody shine through.

The hours passed, and whether it was just the experience of playing with someone else, or the fact that Levi was a notoriously picky accompanist with high standards, but you had never quite felt this way playing a concerto before - during a particularly difficult portion, you had missed a repeated theme, nearly skipping ahead three bars. You were just about to stop, knowing there was no way for the two of you to meet up again, but then you realized – Levi was still with you. Not even batting an eye, he had found where you skipped to, adjusted on his part, all without missing a beat.

The scolding you received for being so careless afterwards was not nearly as fun, but you slowly started to realize the true talent of the man who sat at the bench, waiting for your nod to start the piece over again.

~

The last note rang out, and just like your final practice with Levi not more than twelve hours ago, the two of you were perfectly in sync, your bow still in the air, his hands above the keys, letting the final notes shimmer through the air and bounce off the walls of the concert hall before applause overcame the both of you, shattering the scene of the concerto that had been building.

You bowed, smiling as you clutched your violin, feeling the sweat drip down your brow, the clamminess in your palms, but it was all worth it. Even Mendelssohn would be proud. You stepped to the side, right arm extending to gesture to Levi, who stood, leaving his bench to stand next to you, the both of you taking a bow.

He walked behind you back to your warmup room, accepting your babbled thanks with a wave of his fingers.

He was barely a couple paces away when he saw another pianist walk into your room, some guy he’d seen around the faculty, flirting with the other music majors rather than practicing. In fact, the guy was holding some other violinist’s hand, and judging by their expressions, they didn’t have anything nice to say.

“ – the cadenza? I don’t think you’ve ever managed to get that part right. Maybe she can give you some pointers next time” the guy sneered, the only bit of conversation Levi caught by the time his feet took him close enough.

He saw red in that moment. After leaving to go home the night before, he knew you stayed behind to practice that passage, your solo, the most important and difficult part of the piece. And this fucker was tearing you down. He didn’t stand for it.

Shouldering his way past the two and met your watery eyes, standing by your side to face who he assumed was your shitty excuse of an ex-boyfriend.

“Oh?” said man sneered again, holding his new girlfriend close, “the great Levi Ackerman himself. Not sure how she got you to accompany her. She rushes the beat and skips around the score like a joke. I suggest you stay away from this one, all crazy up in there and no potential.”

You tried to say something, tried to stand up for yourself, but the lump in your throat was too much, and you would rather die than have your stupid ex watch you cry.

“She played beautifully.” Levi retorted, eyes narrowed at your dumbfounded ex-boyfriend, who managed to recover.

“Hah. She may have done better than I expected, but it won’t last. She – you’re nothing without me”

The last words he spoke were directed at you, and the harsh realities of your passion made you clutch at the fabric of your dress, not a word formulated in your brain, the pain and confusion and will not to cry all too much to handle.

“I gave you a chance. But since you’re offering such unsolicited advice, I’ll return the favour.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head when Levi spoke, tone icy and barely controlled.

“You keep your disgusting fingers away from Y/N, she doesn’t need you or your shitty wrong notes and bad accompaniment ability. She has me to support her as long as she needs.”  

~

Through the cold winter months, you would meet up with Levi, practicing regular repertoire for class as well as the upcoming Spring Showcase. Life of a music student was dictated by the concerts and recitals you needed to play, and the two of you were no different. You helped him with pieces, transposing them and writing out new harmonies, giggling at his awe of your perfect pitch, his eyes always wide when you managed to tell him exactly what a note was as soon as you heard it, and then able to recreate it either on your strings or on the piano. He on the other hand, helped you with your harmony homework.

The months passed and between the homework and practicing, the two of you always managed to find time to play whatever suited the mood that day, with Levi’s aptly placed wrong note never failing to get you to double over in laughter.

Be it by your shared interest, or the way you managed to complement each other so perfectly in music, you found yourself craving his presence, looking up videos of his performances when you were home, never able to tear your ears away from the way he played, notes so crisp yet effortlessly emotion filled at the same time.

At some point during your practice, the two of you drifted closer, maybe it was the way he would walk you home, not trusting you to carry your violin, all the music, your schoolwork and walk home in the dark all alone. Or maybe it was the way he always packed an extra pair of gloves for you, knowing how nervous you got and how that always translated to cold ass fingers.

The time you knew, without a doubt in your heart that you had fallen for the quiet man was when you arrived at practice from class, fingers practically blue because, of course, you had forgotten your gloves again. You were about to run to the bathroom and run your hands under water when he came up to you, wordlessly grasping your hands in his, rubbing and blowing warm air on them as you sat, bored expression on his face.

Neither of you had said a word about the incident since, but your heart was beating at twice the tempo it usually did the rest of the night.

As the Spring Showcase date drew closer, your efforts were focused, but Levi seemed to be a little off. He carried more music than usual, and the way he played for you seemed a little forced, less practiced, less emotional and a lot more mechanic.

By the third time he was late meeting you, you had found out the truth. He was playing a recital with another violinist, splitting his time between the two of you. Professionalism aside, you felt the most irrational sense of jealousy swirling in your heart, the idea that Levi, your accompanist, your key to playing the most beautiful pieces did not hold you to the same regard made you feel replaceable. After all, a violinist only needs one pianist, but a pianist could accompany anyone – such was the life, but you couldn’t admit it to yourself.

It was irrational, after all, there were more violin majors that piano ones, and everyone had to share. But Levi promised. He had promised that he would be there as long as you needed him, and in the quiet practice room, it was just you and your music because he wasn’t there.

You were on him the moment he pushed the doors open, eyes glancing at the clock that read nearly half an hour after your agreed upon time.

“What is she playing Levi?” you had asked nonchalantly, causing him to reel back in confusion.

“Petra? I’m working on Sibelius with her, for her graduation recital. You - ” he paused, rubbing a hand through his undercut, “You know about that?”

“I asked the others about where you were and Oluo told me. Why didn’t you just say something Levi? Why hide it from me?”

“Hey. Y/N, what’s the big deal? I’m practicing for another recital with someone else, what’s your problem today?”

“My problem is that you didn’t even think to let me know you were late. My problem is that you didn’t even try to tell me you had other things going on, and I’m just not in the mood anymore.

You knew you were irrational, but the seething anger and ugly jealousy in your chest won out as you shouted, thankful the practice rooms were soundproof.

“Look. I’m playing for Petra at her recital. I was her regular pianist anyways even before I was yours, so what’s the deal? Let’s just practice now.”

The fact that you already knew so well only made the situation worse. Petra had been fine with sharing a designated pianist, but here you were, an irrational angry mess at the fact that you came second in his heart when you were never ranked first to begin with. You shook your head, clicking the locks closed on your instrument case. “I don’t want to.”

A step back, and his brows furrowed a little.

“Wait. Are you…jealous?”

Him hitting the sore point in your heart made you bristle, in no shape to confess your feelings as red-hot anger and sickly green jealousy took over fully in your mind.

“You think you’re so great don’t you Levi.” You spat, slinging your case over your shoulder, “You’re just like my stupid ex. I don’t need you. Forget it.”

As soon as you said it, you wished you could take it back. You didn’t mean a single word, and just taking in the hurt that flashed across his face before settling into his usual impassive mask tinged with anger, you knew you had gone too far.

“I don’t think I’m anything. But if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s your ex. I thought you saw through this bullshit and could see the music, but that’s clearly not the case. Good luck at the showcase.”

His words were icy, nothing like you’ve ever heard from him. Before you could say any more, the door clicked shut, and he walked away, soft clicks of his shoes echoing across the empty hallways.

You walked home by yourself, never feeling colder and more alone.

The next few days were bleak, trudging through the melting snow, the small handful of days to your performance getting closer, you practicing all alone, eating all alone, warming up your hands…all alone, and of course, walking back home, still alone.

Two days to go until the Showcase, and you heard a knock at the door just when you were tuning and chirped out an invitation. You could see through the sliver of a window on the door who it was, and nearly dropped your bow.

Your ex-boyfriend walked in, scanning the room, surprised to see the piano bench empty.

“Hey,” he started, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, “congrats on the scholarship by the way. I uh – I just wanted to apologize for everything. I was in a pretty bad place when we broke up and fuck, it took a lot of work to realize I was a real asshole. My therapist recommended making amends, so I just wanted to let you know that you’re really talented and I – I wish you the best.”

You were taken aback at such a point blank confession, but a smile soon broke out across your face. You walked over to him, the both of you engulfed in a big bear hug.

“Thank you for telling me that.” You offered, pulling away, “I’m glad we’re both in a better place now.”

“When you’re ready…I wouldn’t mind being friends again Y/N.” he glanced at the piano, “And maybe, maybe we can play again together one day.”

You nodded, following him out the door, feeling, for the first time since your fight, a small burden lifted from your chest.

That is, until you turned around after waving goodbye, only to lock eyes with Levi walking down the halls, eyes flitting between the retreating back of your ex and the violin in your hands. You opened your mouth to call out to him, but the way he shook his head, you knew there was nothing more to say. Nothing more you could do.

You didn’t get any more practice that day, tears blurring the notes on the page too much to focus.

~

You thought you were dreaming, and almost rubbed at your eyes before remembering how hard and long it had taken to get the makeup just right. Levi stood backstage, clad in his performance suit, his usual impassive stare as you barely managed to hold back from bursting into tears.

“You came.”

“I owed you as much.”

“Levi I - ”

He cut you off, a wave of his hands at your words.

“After this, I’m done. Find another pianist if you haven’t already.”

Through the thick velvet curtains, you could see the audience, proctors, and the scholarship committee.

You just needed some more time – if only you could explain, everything would be okay, if only you could just tell him everything, but of course, your name was announced in that moment.

The spotlight never felt warmer, and your hands never clammier than when you stood, looking out at the crowded auditorium, not really focusing on anyone in particular. You flicked your hair out of the way, giving Levi a nod.

The beginning chords of Zigeunerweisen sounded from the piano and you almost cried. It had been so long since you had practiced this with him, yet you knew exactly how he was going to play it, never failing to highlight your strengths and cover your weaknesses.

You let yourself fall in love with Sarasate all over again, honouring the composer the best way you could, giving it your all, fingers flying over the strings, hips swaying at the melody.

Despite the piece being scored for orchestra, Levi made up for it all with his playing, presence as big if not bigger than if you had the full ensemble behind you. The melody flit like a hummingbird between your flying fingers, bow bouncing across the difficult virtuosic passages and Levi’s keys.

You longed to put all your emotions behind the piece, hoping the feeling of yearning that you always felt from the piece would reach your audience, but mostly, the man playing with you. You loved the slow passages, being able to take your time, Levi’s accompaniment highlighting the dark, deep soulful tones you were trying to capture. But all too soon, the tempo picked back up in the final movement, the piece was near its end, eight minutes never passing so fast.

You tried to have fun with the playful theme, the more variations being added to it the more difficult it got, until you were a flurry of movement, the piece truly a formidable one.

And then, as quickly as it began, it was over. One last flourish, one last chord that marked the end of the explosive piece.

Applause started up, and you smiled into the audience, faces now coming into view. You bowed yourself, then bowed with Levi, sucking in a breath when he placed his hand on the small of your back for some pictures, his touch warmer than all the spotlights.  

Making your way out from backstage, you were against swarmed by your family and friends, flowers in your arms as you thanked everyone for coming, shooting your professor a thumbs up when they winked in your direction for a job well done.

You spotted Levi in the corner, trying to keep out the way of the crowd, and you walked over to him, name falling from your lips before it was caught, watching Petra hand him a bouquet of flowers.

It was too late, and it was all your fault.

You found silence on a bench, and you should have been happy, having conquered your piece, but somehow the joy wasn’t the same. Your head in your hands, you bit back a sniffle and the swirling heavinesss in your chest.

Lifting your head when you felt a presence, the last few months flashed like a movie in rewind.

Levi stood in front of you, tissue in hand.

“First it was Mendelssohn now Sarasate, you going to cry over every composer out there?”

His voice was teasing, but still guarded.

“I fucking missed you.” He said, watching your chest rise and fall, shaky fingers, calloused and tough from your strings taking the offered item. “I missed your stupid perfect pitch, your stupid wrong notes, your skipping habits, I even missed your cold ass clammy hands.”

You hugged him then, reacting to the yearning in your heart – not giving him a chance to push you away.

“I missed you too Levi, I did get jealous, I got so jealous someone else got to play with you, and then you saw me that night when, when he came and…and, I wanted to tell you, I just wanted to tell you that I -”

You felt him sigh, and then warmth cover your shaking shoulders.

“Me too Y/N. Me too.”

taglist: @melancholicmonologue @anlian-aishang @alrightberries @raabzyjan @jean-does-not-have-a-horseface @rach-likes-books @commanderserwin @daenerysdracarys @ladyofpandemonium @hiqhkeybby @may8344 @blankensee @miekasa @hidehaskak 

[rataltouille]

BONFIRE, BONFIRE!: A COLLECTION OF FLASH FICTION + POETRY

so i’ve decided to compile all twenty [these will be split into two so that the post isn’t super long] of the writing pieces i’ve done for my random celebration into one post so that it’s easier to read / access share!! you can also find it here, all put into one work, on wattpad, because i feel nostalgic about that website and decided to just post it!!

NOTE: i know that this shouldn't need to be said, but these 20 pieces belong to me so please don’t copy/repurpose it for your writing!! i plan on using these somewhere in my own writing and either way they’re stuff i’ve written so don’t use them!!

1. cooking + destructive + purple from @andiwriteunderthemoon [also i kind of cheated with this prompt and asked my sis @dreamscanbenightmarestoo for ideas and so the base idea’s from her!!]

I didn’t mean to set my house on fire, alright?

Let me set the scene: I’m sitting in my room, watching the infomercials that blur together, and suddenly there’s a bright purple flash on the glitching screen: /grapes/. They’re shiny, plump, and oh? A recipe for fine wine? Don’t mind if I do. So I pop into my kitchen and cut the grapes, dice them up, finally using the knife after years of not cooking— /mother, are you proud of me now?/— and stick the soft, luminescent fluid into a glass bottle. Following each step of the recipe.

The recipe didn’t mention an explosion.

Destruction rained around my house like a meteor shower. The bubbles from the fluid, frisking up at contact with metal, swam across my shoes and into the living room. It touched the TV, which still flashed the recipe, which I was still cursing at. And then, you know, it burnt up. The couch scorched first, I think. So that was fun. I later realised that I’d used my reserve of petroleum, which I’d put in my kitchen cabinet, instead of vinegar. I think I’ve got to move back in with my mother again.

2. running + quiet + sky blue from @kryskakikomi [i have no idea what this is i drafted this in a fever dream state]

Summer crawled up his skin like a worm. He was seated at his dining table, crosswording his way through the sticky morning, when it struck him that the humidity was new. He’d been caught in summer before, of course, but this year was different. His parents had whisked away to their hometown, and he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to go. He loved their home— he could have been running on beach sand and waves could have cruised over his feet, and his face would reflect sky blue under palm trees. Instead he sat doodling and scratching at cement walls in a quiet that nagged at his ears, grappling his flesh like a fishing hook, reeling him in. Boredom, him sister told him, before she also left for someone’s home. What would you know? he whispered once the door latched from the outside. Maybe /she’d/ like to sit on the same wooden chair, all the pink paint worn out, and scratch out squares of empty text until the pen poked through the other hand. He scoffed. At least he knew the number of scars on the wood; he could hold that over her when his parents returned.

3. hallucinate + hazy + violet from @chloeswords [i wanted to write something dreamy and ethereal but everytime i look at your url i’m reminded of church mud and indirectly my religious trauma so here we are 🤡]

We hold the book in our arms and chant for God. We don’t know what he looks like. They say that he’s sharp, never pixelating or blurring or showing through, like a hazy image would. No, children, our family says, he will come clothed in gold and velvet— the colour a deep and rich crimson, or chartreuse. And of course, he weaves a violet into his hair. Because he is just that humble. Just that gentle. Loving.

We’ve almost understood now. Pray, clasp our palms together into a transient equinox, and pray. Maybe he will shine down on us. Maybe we will speak so loud and chant so long that our lips will chap. Maybe we’ll simply hallucinate him to salve our bones. Our family says, he will bless you. And so he will.

4. halcyon + pluviophile + beige from anon [i was yearning for cats i am a cat person i love cats]

I remember my life before I moved to London,

Those halcyon days that I spent scooping up cat litter and brushing warm fur,

Being a mother to beige and white and black little felines.

They keep better company than humans.

Now I’m a self-proclaimed businesswoman, artist, influencer, pluviophile,

Even when I’ve barely stepped foot outside during the rain,

[But it needs to be said that when it rains in London, it pours].

I think I’d like to open a cat cafe;

I’m rich enough to pull it off.

5. sing + vulnerable + olive green from @occiidens [this was actually super fun to write because it’s a break from the typically unhinged stories i gravitate towards]

You watch from the highest hill of your town, hand wrapped around the serrated wood of a red oak tree. The bark pokes into your flesh, drawing blood that shouldn’t have been taken from you. You scowl. Just another thing that lives to cause you pain.

Three storeys down is a young man, short and smiling and lovely. He has dark skin and darker hair, walking with the stride of a deer, and he’s smiling; the joy reflects onto your face, even though you can’t hear him. He wears a cotton shirt, the olive green stark against the fire-blue sky. You call out, sing his name, three times in a row.

When he finally looks up, squinting as you silhouette under the sun, the smile widens. A wave. You’re suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Your palm digs into the bark until the wound is freshly dug again, the skin supple and vulnerable. You want to wave, but your hands would look so awkward, and the blood wouldn't help. So you turn on your heel and run— why are you so awkward?— and the grass around you is brighter. This is now a tomorrow issue, you conclude. You’re still smiling.

6. dislocate + ostentatious + blood red from @oasis-of-you [this got really unhinged really fast. TW: body horror]

If you take a turn at Finn Avenue,

Rogue your way down a blood red river,

[It’s not actual blood, do not worry. The colour’s a pigment and it’s saturated enough to give you the texture, the touch, the taste of blood, but I repeat, it isn’t true blood. You might think that it’s ostentatious of us to make you cross a river like that, but you’ll understand why.]

And if can stick your fingers inside the fluid,

You’ll find a bone.

Don’t pull it out fully! Only observe.

[This is a real bone, most likely animal. We may be ominous, but we don’t hurt humans. Not yet.]

So what do you do now? You want passage into a better world.

You came here because you saw the brochure, the flyer,

Radiant Idyll, home for love, but you also saw the jutting anatomy that leads to the city. The pictures were rather clear.

Why do you look so surprised? We’ve put this on the brochure— don’t you ever read the fine print?— to avoid this exact situation. That you would cross a body, a skeleton, pooled over in a fluid that we don’t name, but it’s probably alive.

It’s watching you right now.

So what do you do now?

Hurry up, unhinge your arm, dislocate the elbow, drop it into the blood, forgive me, false blood, and pay for your passage.

Oh! Excellent; that’s record time. We do hope you enjoy your stay!

1. @noteaboy [i’ve interpreted your url as ”note, a boy”]

There’s an orange tree. It’s spring, and there’s an orange tree, and it brims with fruit and citrus perfume. Point your lens flare downwards, and note, a boy. A young man, perhaps, because he combs his hair, uptight and firm, and he wears a tie. A long suit. He doesn’t look up, because his hand holds a book. /He/ holds the book, not the hands— tenderness doesn’t translate through anatomy, I’ve taught you this before. He’s waiting for someone. There’s only the rustle of leaves. He drops the book onto the lap of the tree, crushing the apple that had fallen down. Orange, not apple. Take note better. You only have one chance to get this right.

2. @eatingjupiter [your url is so beautiful omg]

The goddess had said this before she died: you need to watch over him. He needs your sentry to survive. The goddess’ words weren’t heeded. Little baby Jupiter tottered on lava as him parents small-talked with their kingdom. Well, it must have been small talk, because nothing seemed to happen afterwards other than his mother’s face collapsing in agony, anger, annoyance. He knew not to touch them then. He’d fly off into the sun one day, but if his hands were but and charred, he wouldn’t survive even a third of the journey.

The prophecy was simple: the firstborn to the kingdom will metamorph into a celestial, purify themselves so that only stardust remains. Live in the sky forever. The astrologers were baffled; you don’t just become a star. They should have heeded the goddess.

Jupiter was sixteen when he expanded and collapsed all at once. He still lives, they say, and the astrologers /were/ right, in a way: people just don’t become stars. They become almost empty space. Nobody knows if his hands were burnt when they left earth’s orbit forever.

3. @laughtracksonata [your name gave me slight horror vibes idk why!!]

Hahaha. The Horror Movie (don’t ask me for a name, I’m not good with those), with its cymbal crashing and plastic sounds, it’s so loud and scary that it hurts, father. Please turn it off.

Father doesn't listen. I shiver on the couch. The screen flickers like radio static and reflects off our wide eyes. What kind of a home is this anyway? I don’t want to fucking listen to a laugh track or a horror VHS tape or watch the bass crescendo as the serial killer jumpscares the watcher. I don’t think that having hour pupils glued to the same blood-splattered movie, with the same recording looping in his eardrums will help him. He laughs along, sometimes. It’s scary. Father needs a new hobby.

PART TWO COMING SOON!!

anyway this got REALLY long so i’m posting the third prompt group, the one based on songs, as a second part in some time. i hope you enjoy this, and PLEASE do boost!! i spent a lot of time writing these pieces and am pretty proud of them :’)

general taglist: @lovingyou-is @guulabjamuns @andiwriteunderthemoon @coffeeandcalligraphy @melonmilk @silentlylostwriter @charles-joseph-writes @eklavvya @eowynandfaramir @bitterwitchwrites @laughtracksonata @whatwordsdidnttouch @indeliblewrites @thenataliawrites @summersguilt @illimani-gibberish @sarahkelsiwrites @writing-in-delirium @shaelinwrites @sienna-writes @chewingthescenery @jennawritesstories @chloeswords @aelenko @keira-is-writing @cherylinanika @infinitely-empty-pages @jmtwrites @august-iswriting @freedelusionbanana @beetleblue88 @mistercaleb @iwannawritepls @hanwatchingmovies @mortallynuttyqueen @idratherliveinnarnia @maisulli @thegreyboywrites @ahowlinwolf @ravens-and-rivers @oasis-of-you @yanittawrites @chazza-writes-sometimes @skyfirewrites @lovebenders @treybriggsthewriter @themidnxghtwriter @ash-karter @queen-devasena @a-procrastination-addict @gaymityblight @beyondthebracken @madmaxst26 @adielwrites @moonpixxel @hollow-knight-dnd @keep-looking-here @overlap @ashleygarciawrites @ryns-ramblings​ @wordsbynathan @novaemlynlewis​ @sophiewritingstuff​ @howdy-writes​ @occiidens​ @nsanelyawkward​ @viawrites-andacts​

[whatmack]

@ the anon who asked for kandreil angst: THIS IS YOUR RESPONSE tumblr fucked up the editing of the post so I copied the response to a new one whoof

see my first thought was, death but the thing about writing about death.....see death in fiction is never as important as death in real life, right? oh it still can hurt a shit and a ton, but at the end of the day, nobody real has died, and you can read the beginning of the story again... so what would be worse? :) (3 guesses if you can figure out what I’ve been reading in quarantine, starts with p and ends with ercyjackson,)

---

The dawn wind rose from the spray of the sea, briny and humid up the pitted rock of the cliff to ruffle the flight feathers at the base of his thumb, tickle the fringe of his secondary coverts. Andrew grumbled and lifted his head from under his wing, snapping his beak a few times to get the sleep-taste from his mouth. He would have preferred a lie-in. Eat, little cousin, the wind said. Its tone was amused. Patronizing. Andrew wanted to bite at it, but he could feel the edged ache of emptiness in his stomach and crop both; the wind was right, today was a day he could not fail at hunting. Already the wind was carrying to him good smells, food-smells, fish-smells, sweet and fatty. His stomach rumbled. 

Nicky was always telling him to stretch his wings properly in the morning so he wouldn't cramp. Andrew took a special pleasure in ignoring that advice, unwrapping his wings from his body and hopping off the edge of his nest on the next up-draft. The muscles of his breast and shoulders soon lost their morning stiffness to slide into familiar rhythm, gliding lazily down towards the flashing waves. Silvery scales, just under the surface, promised a filling breakfast. Andrew considered for a moment, but his tongue was insistent; he was tired of fish. Something different, then, today. Andrew turned his head towards the sandy shore.

There were food-smells here, rabbit and mouse and other mammal. With no-one close enough to hear, Andrew allowed himself a quiet chirrk-chirrk-chirrk of anticipation. His brother-nest-mate told the others Andrew didn't like anything, and Andrew figured that was correct in all the ways that mattered. The hunt, the chase and dive and tearing of talons in flesh, all in instinctive drive to soothe the ache of hunger-- it wasn't that Andrew enjoyed it. It was that he appreciated the brutal utility of it. The plants ate the the sun, which Andrew could not; the fish and rodent ate the plants, which Andrew had not the beak for; and so Andrew ate these small things, these creatures too weak to cling to life. Muscle to muscle, bone to bone, and Andrew kept alive another day. Apollo and Demeter were no matter to a hunter, though Andrew had never sworn the heart-oath to his father he was commanded. He was free as the wind itself; freer, for he rode atop it. A new scent had him ducking in-- not interest, for that was too strong a word, but attention, maybe; a large creature this, larger than was safe even for a bird of Andrew's size, but today Andrew had a mighty hunger. He banked left and followed the meat-smell to a jagged rock jutting out from the cliff into the sea, streaked with generations of excrement from fowl and creeping lizard alike. The churning of the waters around swallowed the cries of the poor creature, and so Andrew was right against the rock before he realized how big the thing was. Quickly, he landed on a spike hidden on the backside of the outcrop, poking his head over the top to catch a glance of what was on the other side. It howled in pain and confusion, struggling; why was it not running? Andrew saw why a moment later, the iron manacle chaining the animal to the rock. So: a stroke of someone else's luck (for Andrew never had any luck of his own). He was surprised no-one else had come to pick at this choice offiering. Perhaps they were waiting for the correct hour. Andrew would take it then, while it was still early, before it could be stolen away. With such a feast there was no need to stint himself. With a cry Andrew spread his wings and rose up over the sea-cracked rock, diving towards the softest meat of the animal's belly. Skin gave easily beneath his talons, spilling the warm viscera from within. Andrew stuffed his beak again and again, lost to the frenzy of eating, the wholly sensate experience that was the only time he felt truly in his own body. His stomach bulged now, yet Andrew knew he could fit more. He dug into wet meat and felt the blood spray across his feathers. Look, the wind said, look at what I've given you… Fuck off telling me what to do, Andrew thought at it, but he was a suspicious bird by nature. He chanced a glance upwards as he paused to draw breath between bites, talons tightening in his prey. The face that looked back at him wavered strangely. Andrew blinked, lifting his beak to smell, and all at once the face and his memories sharpened into awareness. "Andrew," the face was saying, tear-streaked from pain. "This isn't you, I know, think, remember," a wave cut the words off, dashing the side of the rock and filling the mouth with saltwater. When it turned to cough Andrew saw the thin marking of a number two. Why-- How-- What had Andrew done? He tried to throw himself backwards, horror rising like bile in his throat, trying to carry Kevin's bodyflesh  back out of it, but Andrew was trapped, his talons twisting stuck in bleeding muscle. Andrew cried out, beating his wings. He only succeeded in battering Kevin's face, making him flinch backwards more than he already was. Ah, the wind said. Ah ha, ha ha ha… If Andrew could not get away, he would at least stop this. Against his trembling panic he made his muscles relax, seeking to keep himself as far back from Kevin as he was able, giving his wings only enough lift to keep from dragging Kevin's skin down under his hanging weight. For a moment he managed it, and he saw Kevin's eyes fix on his, hopeful; hopeful, even though Andrew in the worst of senses tearing him apart. But then against Andrew's explicit instructions his muscles seized, drawing him closer. He watched as his right claw rose without his own permission, diving deep into Kevin's guts. Kevin threw his head back and screamed.

Another scent rose on the laughing wind, like Kevin's, man-scent and metal. Andrew wrenched his head to look, and before he was wrenched with a compulsion like iron to bite again, he saw a lone figure toiling over the algae-slick rocks, sword held aloft and red hair tangled from the brine. Your hero. This is my favorite part…who do you think wins this time? Why are you doing this? Andrew cried to the cruel wind, fighting against bonds he could not break to stay his ravage of Kevin's body. The fresh meat tasted good; that was the worst part, and Andrew gagged to know it. The flat of Neil's sword caught the sun and shone into Andrew's eyes, but he was not permitted to close them, to hide from the sight of his own inescapable gluttony. Why? Why, because I like it. I think it's fun. Don't you think this is fun, Andrew? You can't keep Neil from killing me. I won't stop him. Ah, ha. But for that he'd actually have to make it to this rock, no? I've reconsidered, I think this is my favorite part, the wind said. It was high-pitched now, too cold for summer, stolen from some place where ice froze too thick to stand grain. Every day, you still think you have a choice. Oh, yes, and Andrew's horror grew to blot out the sun, have you forgotten? That's okay, I can tell this lesson tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrows for all the rest of time...

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

im so excited with the tito fic, could you please post more teaser? 🥺

your wish is my command, also if it’s not obvious I have a six page paper I have to first draft hand in tomorrow so I’m procrastinating

He showed up to your apartment half an hour earlier, before you had even gotten dressed for the day, and let himself into your apartment as if he owned the place. You couldn’t be mad, truly, because you had given him a key and it was far from the first time he had done so.

“Are you ready?” Anthony asked excitedly, making his way into your kitchen where you were putting your now empty mug in the sink. You rolled your eyes, grin tugging at your lips as you turned to face him and gestured to the baggy t-shirt and old shorts you slept in.

“Does it look like I’m ready, Beau?” You questioned teasingly, watching as he sighed dramatically with a grin that rivaled yours. A thought crossed your mind then, one that dampened your mood and you bit your lip to try and stop yourself from voicing it, but it was too little too late and suddenly you were speaking without your permission. “You must really like this girl if you’re showing up early and trying to drag me out of here.”

“Yeah, I do.” Anthony responded easily, and thankfully his back was turned as he dug through your cupboards for something to snack on so he didn’t see the way your face fell and shoulders slumped. You hurt your own feelings with that comment, the dreaminess in his words tugging at your heart. You wanted nothing more than to be his, but if you couldn't have him, you at least wanted him to be happy.

[scullysexual]

Time Can Heal (8/ )

Season Two | Abduction Arc | Canon Divergence | Angst |

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | AO3 | 

Mulder realises his request for the truth costs too much.

Tagging: @today-in-fic @bevh78 @mypanicface @weseeusinthefall

Another part will be added to this chapter but posted separately. I’m not sure if the previous links work so let me know if they do or don’t if you click on them.

- - - 

A coffee is grabbed on the way out. Weak and tasting of piss, it’s not very good but it’s the caffein Dana wants.

Sleep hadn’t come easy last night. An adjoining door that had been unusually locked, she was too anxious of the screams that might have come, of looking at Davis in the morning and knowing he had heard her nightmares- knows that she has them. Or passing guests and staff in the corridors and wondering which one of them had heard her. Images of the defiled girls, her argument with Mulder, neither of which would go away, replaying in her mind or playing out in the shadows like her visions. Sleep had been pitiful to say the least and she was feeling the affects of it this morning.

“Good morning, Dana.” Davis sits on one of the couches in reception. He puts down the newspaper he was reading and smiles brightly, harbouring all the sleep Dana had lost.

“Any chance we had of this case being over with has gone,” he tells her standing up from the seat. “Agent Bocks rang me this morning telling me there’s been reports of another body dug up.”

There had been a smidgen of hope that that had been the end of it but Dana had said it herself, it would only escalate, they had to stop them and the only way to stop them was to investigate.

She takes a deep breath, already starting to prepare herself for the files that awaits her in that office wondering if she’ll actually ever be prepared for them.

.:.:.:.:.:.

Mulder finds himself distracted by the TV, the sound of cheers when either team scores pulling his eyes (and mind) away from his profile to stare at the screen. There had been plans to get tickets to watch that very game.

“We got another body,” he hears Bocks say. The office door closes as Davis and Scully enter. Catching her eye, he smiles and is extremely relieved when she smiles back at him, perhaps there’s a way forward.

“Did you get the forensics report on this one?” Scully says. He hears the familiar agent-tone back in her voice, the I’m-here-to-do-a-job voice that makes me feel that much better.

“Somebody was down there, alright,” Bocks answers. He hands the file to Scully and Mulder makes sure to pay close attention to her. “It’s all in the report but he cut the hair with a pair of pinking shears. This guy.”

He watches something shift in her face, go slightly paler as she looks at the photos.

“How many bodies is that?” Scully asks, that’s agent-tone gone though he can hear her trying to get it back.

“Err…three,” answers Mulder. Scully’s eyes move from the file to him and he watches her regain her composure, use him as a way to tether her to the room. “In two days.”

But what Mulder notices is a shift in Scully, Bocks is completely non the wiser.

“The hair was cut. The third victim’s fingernails were pulled out with what looks like a pair of needlenose pilers.”

Mulder saw the photos himself and that one had disturbed him. When he looks back towards Scully she’s heading towards the exit, throwing the file down on her way out.

Davis watches her go too, some strange look across his face that has Mulder churning on just what it means.

“So what do you want us to do?” Bocks asks Davis but the other agent is still looking towards the door so Mulder answers instead.

“We should draft an eyes-only memo to everyone in this office, and to all law enforcement agencies in the metropolitan area.” He picks up the discarded folder and looks at the photos again. He shakes his head, they can’t deny this any longer, the implications this is showing, what he’s began to write in his profile. “We have a death fetishist on our hands.”

He puts the file down, he’s done his job now he needed to check on Scully.

He moves to leave but Davis stops him with his words.

“What are you on about, Mulder?”

Mulder sighs and turns to Davis. “A death fetishist- somebody who likes all things death.” He turns to Bocks then. “Security should be tightened around the city cemeteries. Mortuaries should be notified, warnings that a possible stalker is in the area.”

He goes to leave but again is stopped.

“You know this isn’t New York, Mulder,” says Bocks. There’s a hesitation to his voice. Mulder’s been here long enough now to know how long things take. “People still leave their doors unlocked around here. It’s going to scare them.”

He shrugs. “Leave out the more gruesome parts in the press release.” Regardless of whether it scares the people or not, it needs to be done otherwise they are never going to catch this guy, and Mulder will never be able to check on Scully any time soon.

But Davis doesn’t want to budge and when Mulder looks other to him there’s a type of glee in his eyes, a game he playing. He is deliberately keeping Mulder from going to Scully the sick bastard.

“Why alarm people, Mulder?” Davis asks, sounding sincere, sounding like he cares when deep down Mulder knows he doesn’t. “I mean, he only preys on dead people, why the bother?”

“Scully said it yesterday,” he tells them both. “His compulsion will grow. He’ll resort to homicide to procure his corpses.” You’ve seen this before Davis, don’t act like you haven’t.

With their questions seeming to have stopped now, a plan of action in place, Mulder leaves the office with the intention of only stopping when he finds Scully.

.:.:.:.:.:.

She doesn’t go far, just out of the room. She can still hear the conversations, Mulder talking about how his compulsion will grow and is growing.

Dana feels sick to her stomach, every time she moves some force is there to pull her back down into the chair.

She knows it’s just her mind playing tricks on her, the violence of the case, her previous trauma, non-existent sleep. Seeing ones self in a crime scene photograph lying on an autopsy table is jarring and she knows she should just ask to go back to DC and she would if it were only Mulder she was working with but Davis is here and she knows he’s writing reports on her, always watching her, waiting for her to slip up.

Dana’s head falls back against the wall. It was becoming more difficult with every new day. Every night she tells herself that tomorrow will be different, prepares and prepares for whatever file is tossed her way, and then suddenly she’s running out of offices, failing again and again.

“Scully?”

She looks up to find Mulder standing in the doorway, the look of perturbed across his face, the concern in how he says her name. It’s endearing and Dana finds herself smiling. Mulder seems to relax when she does so.

“Are you okay?” he asks, moving from the doorway to sit in the seat beside her.

Dana nods because really she is, she just needs a minute.

“It’s normal- how you’re feeling. I’ve seen people with thirty-years old experience fall apart on cases like these—”

“I’m fine, Mulder.”

His sentence falls short and for a second he looks like he doesn’t believe her so Dana steels her eyes, forces herself to believe the words she is saying.

It’s works, that look in Mulder’s face goes and he nods. There’s no room to argue. I’m fine/I want to work- they garner the same reaction which means he’ll keep an eye on her just like he tried to do after her father died.

He pats her hand and stands but then lingers about, looking at his feet. He has something else to say so Dana waits for him to say it.

“Err…do you think you’d be up to reading over my profile?”

He doesn’t want her going back to the motel on her own.

At first she’s about to say no, she doesn’t want to be in this monster’s head at all but it’s at that thought that she decides that maybe it would be better to. To understand exactly what it is she is fearing.

“I have my own reports to do anyway,” she says and Mulder smiles, holding out his hand. Dana accepts it, feeling a lot more anchored to the world and follows Mulder out the door.