#Ive been trying out a slightly different way to draw him this week

[peachgoosy]

sycamore , what are you so excited about?

my goodness, it's SYCAMORE SUNDAY!

pl spoilers below

fun factyou actually can draw them hugging no matter how ooc it is and no one can stop you. It's true try it

[wavypotatochips]

Heyy can I request something soft and calm with Trent when u have a very bad day so he tries to make you happy to stay home with you on a rainy and cold day🥹

𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐀𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Trent Alexander-Arnol x Female Reader

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 : 1.8k

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: I don't watch Liverpool so I wasn't too sure of Trent's personality, but I did my best as always! I also tweaked your request a bit so I hope you do not mind ((: I Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN, Ive finished 4/7 request that I currently have and will schedule them to be posted throughout the week so be on the look out for your request c: <33 ♥

The sound of thunder rumbles in the distance as you sit at your desk, surrounded by textbooks, notes, and a dimly lit lamp. The rain is pouring down outside, pattering against the windowpane like an incessant drumbeat. You've been studying for hours, but the information just doesn't seem to be sticking. You read a page of notes, and it seems like the words are just jumbled letters on a page. You try to remember the names of the bones in the human body, but they all blur together in your mind. You continue to review the information, trying different study techniques like creating flashcards, drawing diagrams, and taking practice quizzes. But the more you try, the more frustrated and stressed you become. You take a deep breath and try to focus, but your mind keeps drifting. You got this you got this, you think to yourself. You start to feel a knot in your stomach as the realization sets in that you might not be ready for this exam. You try to reassure yourself that you've studied as much as you can, but the fear of failure creeps in. As you delve into your notes, lightning flashes in the sky, illuminating the room for a split second before disappearing just as quickly. The flicker of light startles you for a moment, but you quickly regain your composure and return to your studies. As the morning goes on, you become more and more exhausted, both mentally and physically. You're running out of time, and the pressure is building. You want to cry, scream, or just give up. But you know that you can't afford to do any of those things. You have to push through and keep studying, even if it feels like it's all for nothing.You began studying at six in the morning, and it is now three o'clock. Since you are studying for your current class, Anatomy and Physiology, Trent has not bothered you because he understands how important it is for you to be by yourself so you can concentrate. After all, majoring in Sports medicine is not the easiest thing in the world. 

Trent yells, "Babe," and lifts his fist to knock. After a little wait, there was no response. He knocks once more, this time slightly louder, but there is still no answer. When he gently opens the door, he sees you seated in the desk chair with papers all over the place and your head down against the textbook. 

You do not hear Trent as you are too lost in your mind so feeling his hand touch your shoulder causes you to jump up and quickly turn your head. Just by the way you are looking at him he could tell something was wrong. You are always beaming with light, Trent would say if someone asked him to describe you, your smile could light up the whole room. Your eyes are always so lovingly that each time you would look into his eyes, it would cause his heart to tug. But right now, you have a slight frown on your face and your eyes are droopy. You look up into his eyes as he stares down at you, analyzing. You see he is wearing a black tracksuit and has his futebol bag in his hand, “Oh you came in to tell me you are heading out for practice? Have fun,” you give him a small smile as if you are feeling okay, and of course Trent does not buy it. When it is raining, or in this case thunderstorming, they usually practice inside so it is no surprise that he still is about to head out. You are about to turn around, but then hear him speak, “Did you eat yet?” You shake your head no, “I haven't had time…. Or should I say I don't feel the need to?” “Didn't you say the exam is on Friday?,” he questions, causing you to nod your head. Today is Monday, but of course anatomy is not something you can just study at the last minute in hopes to pass the test. He stares at you for a few minutes, before dropping his bag and grabbing your hand. “Come on, you've been studying all morning and it is draining you.” As he grabs your hand to pull you out of your seat you begin to protest,”But Trent I-” “You will be fine. You studied today, and you can continue to study more tomorrow. But, Don't try to study all day because that's when your brain goes into overdrive… Plus I don't think the thunderstorm is helping you right now,” and as if on cue- a loud roar of thunder can be heard. You sigh, nodding your head, giving in. He smiles as he takes you out of the study room, bringing you into the living room and notions for you to sit down on the couch. He picks up the remote from the coffee table, handing it to you, “Pick out a movie for us to watch and I will be right back.” You are about to question where he is going, but he is already quickly leaving the room. You bite your bottom lip, exhaling a deep sigh as you mentally give in and try to destress yourself. You begin to flip through Netflix to try and find a movie for you two to watch.

Meanwhile, Trent stood in the kitchen, staring at the open fridge, trying to decide what to make for you since you more than likely have not eaten yet. He knew he wanted to make something fulfilling, yet light on the stomach. He scanned the shelves, looking for inspiration. He saw some fresh vegetables, a carton of eggs, and some cheese. He decided to make you a vegetable omelet, as he knew you loved them.He quickly chopped up some onions, peppers, and mushrooms, and sautéed them in a pan. Then he whisked some eggs in a bowl, added a splash of milk, and poured them into the pan. As the omelet started to set, he sprinkled some cheese on top and folded it over. He plated the omelet, along with a side of fresh fruit and some toast. He also poured a glass of orange juice, knowing it was your favorite.Trent carries the breakfast to the living room, where he sees you sitting on the couch, looking stressed and tired. He presents you with the plate, and a warm smile.

"Here you go, my love," he said. "I made you a vegetable omelet, just the way you like it." The aroma from the food fills your nostrils, instantly making your stomach grumble to remind you just how hungry you unconsciously are. You smile as you grab the plate from him, thanking him, and instantly grab the fork to begin to eat. Trent sits down beside you, watching you intently as you savor each bite of your meal. He couldn't help but admire your beauty, from the way your hair cascaded down your shoulders to the way your eyes sparkled in the light. As you take another bite, Trent's mind begins to wander. He thought about all the times you two had spent together, laughing, talking, and just being with each other. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have such an amazing girl in his life. Lost in his daydream, Trent didn't even notice when you finished your meal and looked up at him. "What are you thinking about?" you ask, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. Trent blinks, snapping out of his reverie. "Oh, nothing," he replies sheepishly, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks as his smile never leaves his face,allowing his dimple to peek through, "I was just admiring how beautiful you are.". "Oh hush you are soooooo cheesy!,” You laugh, shaking your head, “Thank you for the food baby," you say, leaning to give him a quick kiss. Trent feels his heart swell with love for you as he pecks your lips. As you browse Netflix once more, you lean against his side and put your arm around his. "Let's watch Scary movie 2," you suggest. Trent releases his arm from your grasp and wraps it around you so that your head can rest on his chest as you continue to speak, "It's dumb but it's funny." Trent leans his head against yours as you click on the movie. He kisses the top of your head, "Anything for you, love.” He tells you to wait a second before stepping away from you once more just as you are about to start the movie. He then stands up and walks through the hallway. A short while later, he returns, with a blanket and a bowl of popcorn, saying, "Alright, I'm ready now."

When the movie is over, you decide to just have a "movie day" and keep binge-watching films.

Now halfway through the second movie, you and Trent are cuddled up on the couch wrapped in the cozy blanket he brought prior . The TV's quiet hum and the pelting rain on the windows from the storm that is forecast to last all day were the only sounds coming from the living room. As a result of feeling so calm and at ease in Trent's arms, you start to feel quite exhausted. He watches as you snuggle closer to him,your head resting on his chest, and he feels a wave of tenderness wash over him. He knows school has been stressing you out lately, with exams and assignments piling up, and he wants nothing more than to take care of you. He ran his fingers gently through your hair, soothing you as you closed your eyes and relaxed. Trent feels a deep sense of responsibility towards you. He wants to be there for you, to support you in every way possible, and to make sure you know how much you mean to him. As he looks down at you, he knows that he is willing to do anything to make you happy. He begins to think about all the little things he could do to make you feel better in times like this - make you breakfast in bed tomorrow, send flowers to your university to surprise you, etc. He knew that these small gestures could make a big difference and help you feel loved and supported during this stressful time. He hugs you tightly as you snuggle even closer.  He knows that he will always be there for you, no matter what. He vowed to himself the day he asked you out that he will take care of you, to support your dreams, and to be your partner in everything you both do. And as he looks down at your angelic sleeping state, he feels grateful for every moment you two have shared and looks forward to a future filled with love, laughter, and cuddles on the couch.

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song vii (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, smut; includes jacuzzi (oral) sex, outdoor sex, the angst/drama comes knocking!  words; 8,336

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

A few days after Arin’s birthday party school started back, and just as you’d known you got incredibly busy, incredibly fast. With admin and getting to know your new students you found that you were too distracted to dwell on all the things that had been worrying you. Yes, it was strange not being able to see Seokjin practically whenever you wanted, and yes, you missed him – and the summer, but with work so hectic it cushioned the blow. You didn’t have time to live inside your own head or get sad about stupid, tiny things. 

Letting the school know about your relationship wasn’t mandatory now that you weren’t Arin’s teacher, but you felt better for it, meeting with Hoseok one morning to inform him. Eunbi already knew, being quite a close a friend to you, and slowly, over the next few days you let some of the other teachers you were friendly with know too. You found it quite exciting. You’d been single for such a long time so finding yourself in conversations about your boyfriend filled you with a happiness you weren’t quite used to. You liked talking about Seokjin, bigging him up, some could call it bragging… He’d even very kindly donated money for a new playground to be built in the kindergarten area. He wanted to help Primrose Hill any which way he could. It meant a lot to you and his daughter. 

It only took around three weeks to get yourself into a routine. For both of you to find a rhythm and make it work well. Your lunch break wasn’t long enough for you to zip to Seokjin’s office and join him so he always made an effort to come to you. Sometimes you’d eat in his car, sometimes yours, or sometimes you’d meet in a small café near the school. You cherished that short time together because sometimes that’s all you could have. Depending on how busy you both were you often couldn’t spend time together in the evenings. You tried to at least once in the week, but weekends were reserved for things like spending the night. 

It was Tuesday today and you somehow had a night free from lesson planning which meant you could join Seokjin and Arin for dinner. You were glad really, because Seokjin had been stressed since yesterday and you hadn’t had a chance to see him properly. He had to go away on last minute business this weekend but it coincided with Misook’s family vacation. He’d asked Nana if Arin could stay with her this weekend but she was busy too. He didn’t know what to do, other than try and postpone the trip. Key word: try. 

Misook had left for the day just as you were arriving, Arin in her room, too busy playing on the Nintendo Switch she’d gotten from Nana for her birthday, so it gave you some brief time alone with Seokjin. You were shocked to see him still in his suit, sat in contemplation alone in the family room. Oh, boy. You hated seeing him so stressed. He was never one to mope or even show his mood. You knew him well enough by now to be able to tell when he was drained, but he still didn’t let it affect him too much, always smiling, always joking around. This evening was different. He’d barely said a few sentences, mostly it involved apologising for his bad mood. He felt selfish, not being much company, yet still needing yours. He had nothing to be sorry for, you reassured, resting your head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close. You reached for his hand, and there you stayed like that for a little while, fingers laced together. 

Arin made her way in soon enough, stomach rumbling, a hopeful lilt to her voice as she walked over to you both, hands behind her back. “Can we have pizza for dinner?”

Seokjin shifted, unlacing your fingers and dropping his arm from your shoulders as you both sat up straighter. “Didn’t we have that yesterday, Arin?”

Arin didn’t miss. She was a professional. “But Y/N wasn’t here yesterday. She missed out.” 

Her comeback even managed to draw a quiet chuckle out of her dad. “We’re not having pizza, sweetie.” 

She sighed softly, crossing her arms around her chest as she looked your way. “Daddy is moody today.” 

You raised an eyebrow, your mouth unable to stop quirking up in amusement. “He is?”

“Why do you say that?” Seokjin asked. His tone was light, but you could tell by his frown lines her casual words had him worrying. 

“I heard you on the phone this morning to mommy. There’s no one to look after me when you go away this weekend and she can’t do it.” 

Seokjin faltered, not expecting such a frank answer. He composed himself quickly. “She’s just really busy, Arin. She wanted to look after you, she just couldn’t this time.” 

“I know,” she replied simply, nodding her head. 

There was a beat of silence and then Seokjin reached for her, kissing her cheek, his voice quiet with apology. “I’m sorry. Was I really moody today?” He looked unsurely your way too. 

“Uh huh. You hardly smiled, and when I tried telling you about the field trip I’m going on next week you weren’t even listening properly.” Arin’s small voice filled with such attitude was comical. 

Seokjin chuckled. “Daddy’s really sorry. I’m smiling now, though, right?” Arin nodded. “And if you’re kind enough, you can tell me about your trip again over dinner. Is that okay?” 

“Hmm.” She thought allowed. “So can we get pizza?”

Seokjin snorted. “Nice try, young lady. It’s still a no.” 

.

.

Seokjin ordered from one of his favourite restaurants, helping you set the table as Arin went to check on her rabbits. You ate together, listening as Arin spoke all about her upcoming field trip, finally having her father’s undivided (and interested) attention. However, halfway in, she completely changed the topic, throwing you both. 

“Can’t I stay with Y/N this weekend?” 

“Hm?” Seokjin looked over at her, visibly surprised. 

You swallowed what was left in your mouth just as Arin’s eyes found yours.  “I can just stay with you while daddy has to go away.” Your lips parted, trying to think of something to say, your years of teacher training falling short. 

Seokjin beat you to it. “No, no, sweetie,” he shook his head, sounded a little flustered, taken by surprise. “Y/N will probably be busy on the weekend. That’s her only free time, she can’t look after you.” 

With a small shrug, she put her fork to her mouth. “It was just a thought.” 

Seokjin looked over at you, expression apologetic as he mouthed sorry. 

.

.

Hey, listen…” You began, feeling oddly nervous as you looked up at your boyfriend. It was a couple of hours later, Arin was in bed, time was getting on, you had to leave soon, but cuddled up against him, both curled up on the sofa as you watched mindless television, you really didn’t want to go anywhere. Seokjin had relaxed a little by now (the wonders of food), but you could still tell his mind was exhausted as his gaze fell on yours. You took a breath, deeper than intended, psyching yourself up. “I really don’t mind looking after Arin this weekend.” 

You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened a tad, obviously taken by surprise, but then his mouth lifted at the side, his head shaking from side to side lightly as he let out a breathy chuckle. “Y/N, don’t feel like you have to just because she brought it up.” 

You found yourself relaxing. He didn’t want you to feel obligated. You’d thought so, but the teeniest tiniest most worrisome part of your brain had thought he might now have wanted, or trusted you, to look after Arin. That wasn’t the case. You could tell by the look on his face. He didn’t want to put you out, ask too much of you. 

You moved and straightened your back, eye to eye now. “No, I honestly don’t mind at all, Seokjin.” You reassured, talking faster as you noticed him open his mouth. “Seeing as Arin was the one who suggested it, I guess she’s fine with the idea. I…” Hesitating, you added something else. “I wanted to suggest it myself but… If she’s comfortable with it, I’d love to.” 

It was the truth. Ever since Seokjin had called you at lunch time, telling you Nana couldn’t manage this weekend, you’d wanted to tell him you were up for it but something had stopped you. Even as he’d tried to think of options this evening – maybe his mom could stay for the weekend, his aunt – you’d held back and bitten your tongue. What if you were pushing boundaries? Inserting yourself into situations that didn’t concern you? Arin liked you, yes,   but being entirely in your care for 48 hours was different. She might not want to, she might feel uncomfortable. However knowing that it wasn’t the case, suggesting it herself so casually over dinner had given you the confidence to push through. Seokjin needn’t be worried about asking too much of you. 

Regarding you silently, he considered your words. Lovingly, you glided your hand up his arm, reaching out for his cheek. He pressed into your touch automatically. “I want to help you out.” At that, he smiled gently, lips turning up in a way that rounded his cheeks, making him appear at least a decade younger. It was wholly unfair. 

Turning slightly, his lips grazed your palm. “I’ll ask her about it in the morning.” You grinned, visibly pleased, and Seokjin took your hand to tug you gently to his chest. This time he placed a kiss on your mouth, humming happily. “Thank you.” 

Arin was more than happy about it. Seokjin suggested you stay at his home for the weekend, seeing as that would be easier for the both of you, but she was pretty adamant she wanted to stay at your place. You understood, kid’s curiosity and all. She wanted to know what your home looked like, she wanted to meet your “pretty best friend” she liked to ask about sometimes. Honestly, you felt touched that she wanted to learn more about your life. It was just another reminder of her acceptance when it came to you, and you’d be forever touched by how easily she’d let you into her life. She was more than welcome to come stay at your place, but of course you’d run it by Soojung first. She’d agreed quite easily, even after you informed her you’d be sharing her bed all weekend, Arin of course using yours. 

On Thursday night Seokjin’s guilt was getting the better of him. He had you on the phone, making sure you were 100% okay with looking after Arin. He didn’t want you to feel as if you were trapped just because you felt compelled to help him. He could cancel his trip. You told him how stupid he was being. Cancelling would put so many people out, including himself. Besides, you not only wanted to help him out, you wanted to take care of Arin. You felt as though you were capable, and if you were being even more honest with him, you felt really happy it was happening. Knowing Arin trusted you this much was a great feeling. Knowing he trusted you enough… 

“Why wouldn’t I trust you?” He scoffed in disbelief. “You’re great with her. She loves you.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you laughed. 

“How come?” He was hellbent on proving you wrong, voice softening as he continued. “You’re so easy to love.”  

You felt your heart skip a beat. He’d said it so casually, so easily, you felt dumb searching too much into his words. It was far too early to think of things like that – for confessions like that. Right? Still, he sounded genuine enough. He meant it, even if it wasn’t in that way. Not that you were expecting anything. You were perfectly happy with how things were, your feelings growing stronger each day. You weren’t in a rush, neither was he. That’s what made your relationship so great. But your heart still felt all fuzzy regardless. You found yourself smiling down the line, your thanks obvious in your tone. “I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you more.” He ignored your noises of complaint. “I’ll video call you a lot – and Arin of course.” Then he laughed. “Although, I’ll have a feeling she won’t miss me at all this weekend.” 

The next day you finished up work early, it was a Friday anyway, so you never made a habit of sticking around too long, but this time you were packed and ready to go the same time as the kids. Arin would be waiting in her classroom, ready to go home with you for the weekend. Seokjin had dropped off her things early this morning before his flight, indulging you in a few sleepy kisses before he had to go, a promise of ‘I’ll see you Sunday night,” slipping from his slightly downturned lips, hands reluctant to let you go. 

Arin was visibly excited when she saw you, seconds away from jumping up and down on the spot, your first name rushing out of her mouth without realising. It was no big deal of course, but her reaction was cute, eyes widening as her lips parted into a circle, a noise of realisation leaving her. She looked very much like her father, which made it even funnier. You took her hand, saying your goodbyes to Mr. Moon, her second grade teacher, and left the building for your car. 

“This is a really nice car, Y/N,” she complimented as you made sure she was strapped in properly. You weren’t nervous, but you were slightly on edge, cautious, being a better word, to make sure everything was okay. You needed all bases covered. Arin was in your care for 48 hours after all. You told yourself to calm down, if Seokjin knew you were being this antsy he’d be highly amused. You wouldn’t stop hearing about it for a week. 

“I’ve always wanted to ride in it,” Arin continued. 

You smiled down at her. “Thank you.” She was one of the sweetest kids you knew. Your car was average. Not that she knew anything about makes and prices and whatever else there was. You didn’t either. As long as it drove you from point A to B you didn’t care what it looked like. 

“Will your best friend be home when we arrive?” She asked as you got inside the driver’s seat, sticking the key in the ignition. 

“Soojung? She’ll be still in work. Remember I told she works at a department store?” It was adorable how excited she was to meet Soo. Your best friend’s head would be double the size soon, ego inflated. 

“Mhmm,” Arin hummed responsively.  

“She won’t be done until around 6.” You turned back to look at her, knowing your next sentence would make her day. “I think she wanted to get pizza for dinner. Would you like that?” 

“YES!” Arin exclaimed immediately, eyes lighting up. “Soojung likes pizza too?” 

With a chuckle, you started the vehicle up and started backing out of your spot, replying as you did so. “She does.” But in truth, the pizza tonight was Seokjin’s idea. He’d given you one of his bank cards to spend on the food bill with strict instructions to only feed her the doughy delicacy once this weekend. He knew what she was like – you both did. She’d eat pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner if she could. If you suggested it tonight, then that was it. She’d be eating your menu come Saturday and Sunday. 

“How far away is your house from the school?” 

You’d lost count of how many questions she’d already asked you since you’d arrived to collect her. It was comical. Seokjin had not warned you about that, but your years of experience had told you to expect it. What was a kid without questions? You’d be worried if she was silent. 

“Not too long.” You replied, glancing in the rear view mirror to see her happily looking out of the window. “When we get in, I’ll text daddy and see if he’s free to videocall.” 

“Okay.” 

You tried to stop the smile that wanted to break across your face at her nonchalance. “Do you miss him yet?” 

With a brief shake of her head, still staring at the whizzing scenery outside she answered pretty simply. “Not really.” 

This time you burst out laughing, unable to stop. She looked over at the noise, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you took a right turn, giggling along. “Don’t tell him though, Y/N. It might make him sad.” 

“I won’t, Arin.” You reassured with another chuckle. “It can be our little secret.” 

.

.

She settled in well that night, immediately warming to Soojung (who despite her lifelong insistence, was great with children). You thought perhaps Arin would begin to get homesick once it was time for bed, but after watching a movie you tucked her in and said goodnight. You thought she’d have trouble sleeping because she was in a strange bed but checking in on her twenty minutes later you found her fast asleep, hugging her rabbit plushie. You on the other hand got ready to share a bed with Soojung – the bed cover hogger… 

The next day Arin had you awake at 6am. You already knew about her liveliness in the mornings, so it was no surprise. You’d been woken up countless times over the summer by a knock at Seokjin’s door, Arin’s voice calling out for him. On days you weren’t there she’d even barge in and jump on the bed. Where she got her energy from so early in the morning was a mystery. This morning however, she caught you on the way out of the bathroom. You’d been tossing and turning all night, wresting the covers from Soo. You’d thought about maybe taking a blanket and having an hours nap on the sofa, but there Arin was creeping out of your room, a smile on her face as she saw it was you. 

There was no tempting her back to bed, so you sat her down at the table and made her some breakfast, snapping a picture to send to her father. (Captioned: Guess who had me up at 6am 😴) You had a few things planned today. Seokjin always made sure Arin was busy on the weekends, it was the only time he got to spend with her fully unless she was with her mom, especially now that she was back in school. Even if it was just something as simple as going to the park, he always made plans. So, to do your part and to keep her entertained, you were going to run by her house to make sure the rabbits were fine (fed and watered), then go to the mall. It was simple, yes, but you needed to get a few things anyway, and you promised after all that walking around you’d stop by the food court. Then she had to accompany you to the grocery store to get ingredients for tonight’s dinner. 

She was pretty damn excited regardless. “I like going to the mall with mommy because daddy finds it boring,” she informed you as she picked out her clothes that you’d helped her unpack yesterday. That definitely sounded like Seokjin, you thought to yourself, laughing along with her. “Mommy told me that next weekend she’s going to take me shopping and buy me anyyy-thing I want.” 

“That sounds like great fun,” you smiled, telling yourself you’d pretend you never heard that… Seokjin was keen not to spoil Arin so you didn’t think he’d be best pleased to find this out. “What do you want to buy?”

“Hmm. Something for Olive and Ariel, I think.” 

You smiled again, admiring her caring nature. Her rabbits were the most well looked after in this entire country. She adored them. “I think they’ll really appreciate that.” 

You continued helping Arin get ready first, and thankfully by the time you were done Soojung had risen. You left them watching cartoons together while you showered, eager to leave by 10am. 

Arin you found out, didn’t just like the mall, she loved it very much. She was practically skipping around the place as she held your hand, helping you pick out the things you needed for your craft session with the students on Monday. While she was recommending paint colours to you, she surprised you with a confession. “I wish you were still my teacher, Y/N.” 

“How come?” You asked gently. 

She gave a tiny shrug. “I’d get to see you every day.” 

Oh. You didn’t know what to say to that, touched at her matter-of-fact revelation. Instead you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a loving squeeze. 

“But actually, maybe I wouldn’t like it.” She added as an afterthought. You waited, curious as to why she’d changed her mind so suddenly. “I’d have to call you Miss Y/L/N. I’d get too confused.” 

You laughed, this child was far too funny for her own good. “Me too, Arin. It’s better this way, right?”

“Right,” she agreed with a nod. 

.

.

“Y/N, this is pretty,” Arin cooed, calling your attention as you rounded the stand. You’d gotten everything you needed and were now browsing around some other stores. You’d let Arin pick a couple out, worrying she might be getting bored, and one of her choices had been Claire’s. She was holding up a charm bracelet. 

“Very pretty,” you agreed. 

And then she struck. “Can I have it?” She didn’t give you time to answer, eyes widening as she began to beg, voice soft and hopeful. “Please. Pretty please.” 

You chuckled. You were practically immune to cute kids, so that wouldn’t work on you. However, she had been really well-behaved all morning, in your eyes she deserved a small treat. “You can. But just this one thing, okay?” 

“Thank you, Y/N!” She squealed, rushing up to you. She gave your arm a squeeze. “I like you much better than daddy.” 

“That will hurt his feelings,” you burst out laughing. She didn’t have to butter you up, you’d already said yes. 

As you were paying the cashier, she wondered off to a stand of keychains, her eyes catching something instantly. “Oooh, pretty,” she purred and the cashier, a woman no more than a few years older than you, laughed. 

“Best escape before she wants something else,” you joked, handing over some cash. 

“My daughter is just the same. Kids, who’d have them, right? We’re glutton for punishment.” She joked. 

“Oh, no, I’m –” You stopped yourself dead, unsure what to say. Had this woman just mistaken you for Arin’s mother? It definitely sounded that way. But just how could you correct her? 

“Don’t get me wrong,” the cashier said, shaking her head. “They’re definitely worth it.” 

You forced yourself to smile, feeling a little wooden, but the chuckle you got out sounded better. “Yeah, yeah they are.” You glanced over at Arin, thankfully she was too distracted by the abundance of cute animal keychains. You turned back and took your bag from the woman, trying to shake off how awkward you felt. “Thank you. Bye.” 

Walking over to Arin you took her hand. “Hope to see you again soon,” the cashier called behind you and you gave a wave, telling Arin to do the same.

“Thank you,” she sang sweetly as she did so. 

.

.

“So, something weird happened today,” you told Soojung as you prepared food, careful to keep your voice low even though Arin was well and truly distracted inside the living room. Taehyung was a master with children. The guy needed a career change immediately. You’d never heard Arin laugh so hard. She’d been in stitches for the last hour. You were worried she’d be way to hyperactive for bedtime once it came. 

Soojung looked up from where she was chopping onion, interested as her eyebrow raised. 

“The woman at Claire’s mistook me for Arin’s mother.” 

Soojung scoffed, lifting her shoulders in a casual shrug. “I’m not surprised. It was bound to happen. It’s normal.” She added, reassuring you as she saw the look on your face. “People just naturally assume.” 

“I guess…” 

“What did you tell her?”

Your expression turned sheepish. “I just went along with it,” you confessed, placing spaghetti in a pan of bubbling water. You caught the look she gave you. “I didn’t know what to say!” It was the truth. “I’m her father’s girlfriend seemed too… I don’t know…” Too impersonal? 

“That’s what you are though,” Soo snorted.

You gave up, knowing you were probably making a huge deal out of this. Was it that serious? Probably not. “I just felt awkward.” 

“Because you hate correcting people, or because you didn’t like someone mistaking you for Arin’s mother,” your best friend pried. 

“It’s definitely not that. It’s just…” You sighed. “How would Arin feel about it? What if she’d heard?”

Soojung shrugged. “She loves you. You’re great with her.” 

That wasn’t the point you were trying to make. “It still might have upset her though. She adores her mom.” You weren’t trying to take Nana’s place and you didn’t want her to ever think that. 

It was Soo’s turn to sigh, dropping the chopped onions into a fry pan. “Do you want my opinion?” 

“Please,” you requested meekly. 

“I think you’re looking way too much into it.” Obviously. “It’s not a big deal at all, and Arin didn’t hear anything so nothing to worry about.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, telling yourself to shake it off. 

“Of course I am,” she quipped, rooting around in a cupboard now. She turned back, a can of tomatoes in her hand. “I’m sure Seokjin will be able to ease your mind with his sexy Dilf powers or whatever he calls them.” 

“Shut up,” you groaned. You weren’t even sure if you were going to tell him. Like she kept saying, it wasn’t a big deal, right? It was an easy mistake to make. Probably happened all the time. 

From inside the living room you heard Taehyung roar loudly, mimicking a lion (possibly) and Arin shrieked out his name, laughter exploding from her. “Quick, let’s get dinner ready as soon as possible.” Soojung begged, dramatic as always. “I’m scared Tae might be getting ideas. I’m too young for kids!”

.

.

The rest of the weekend went by smoothly. Despite the excitement levels that Saturday night brought, Arin was knocked out by 9pm. You, Soojung and Taehyung stayed up for another hour before he had to leave and then Soo made her way to bed, needing to wake up early tomorrow for work. That left you on the couch, awaiting Seokjin’s video call. He’d already called once today, but Arin was so hyped, talking a mile a minute about her day, you couldn’t get a word in edgeways. (Neither could he.) You were thankful for some alone time. You were missing him. He’d gone away on business trips a couple of times in the summer but it didn’t mean you’d get used to it. You both talked about your day, and you decided there and then not to tell him about the Claire’s “incident.” Soojung was right, it was no big deal. It was a common misunderstanding, one you’d probably made unknowingly before too. After you’d said your goodbyes you went to bed, already strategizing how you were going to steal the covers back from Soojung. As much as you’d enjoyed looking after Arin, you couldn’t wait to have your own bed back. Sharing with your bestie was torture. Taehyung was an admirable man. 

Sunday was a chillout day, although Arin still had you awake at 6am. You made her breakfast, watched some cartoons and shared turns on her Switch before you both got ready for the day. You checked in on Olive and Ariel briefly before driving back to your place. There was a park nearby and you promised you’d take her. The weather was still warm despite September trickling by. It was crazy how fast this year had gone, autumn already nearly here. For the rest of the day you both relaxed in front of the TV, waiting until Soojung was home to watch a movie, and then you made dinner. Seokjin was due back around 7pm, so you made sure all of Arin’s things were packed up ready to go. It was just gone eight when he turned up at your door. Arin had already passed out on the sofa after her hot chocolate so he couldn’t stay long. You thought with how entertaining this weekend had been it had finally all caught up with her. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?” He asked, careful to keep his voice down as he strapped Arin inside his car. (Still sleeping.) You’d followed him out as he carried her towards the vehicle, wanting to say your goodbyes. 

He straightened up, closing the car door as he stepped closer to you. You rubbed his arm. “You must be exhausted.” 

“Don’t baby me.” Reaching forward, he wrapped his arms around you, squishing your arms to your side. “I missed you.” 

You hummed, pressing your lips to his, careful to keep your voice a whisper. “Your dick missed me.” 

He scoffed in disbelief but couldn’t argue. “That’s…not a lie. My heart missed you too though.” 

“How sweet,” you joked, but couldn’t keep your charade up for much longer. “I missed you too.” This time the press of your mouth was much firmer. He matched it, letting you slip your arms around his sides, holding him too. 

“Tomorrow, then?” He asked hopefully, tip of his tongue wetting his bottom lip slightly as he pulled away. “I know it’s a school night but I swear I only get a good night’s sleep lying next to you.” 

Laughing, you nodded your head. “Tomorrow.” You agreed wholeheartedly. Sleeping alone was no fun anymore. 

He captured your mouth again, humming happily. “Can’t wait.” 

The following weekend Arin was with her mom so you and Seokjin had the entire weekend to yourselves. Saturday was busy, you’d both probably been a little too ambitious when you’d decided to cram as many different activities as you could into the day, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. You didn’t get many days to spend together likes this; walking hand in hand as you explored the local market, having brunch together, checking out a new museum exhibit, watching a movie at the theatre… You treasured days like these. And what better way to end one with? Jacuzzi time! 

Seokjin’s jacuzzi was fast becoming one of life’s staples lately. Who were you? A changed woman, that’s who. This was your favourite space in Seokjin’s garden(s). An area of decking, solar lights draped over the sleek fencing. In the middle was the jacuzzi, set into the wood. Now that the nights were drawing in, it was especially cosy out here, summer holding on for just a little bit longer as the weather stayed quite warm. It wouldn’t be like this for long so you had to make the most of it right now. 

You were sat inside the jacuzzi, water gently bubbling around you as you gazed up at the stars that had just started to appear when you heard Seokjin emerging from the house. His footsteps sounded against the wooden steps as he made his way towards you. You didn’t bother looking but when he didn’t join you straight away, you glanced over curiously. To be met with a rather naked boyfriend. 

“What are you doing?!” You exclaimed, eyes bugging out. 

He grinned. It was hardly innocent. “Jacuzzi’s are much more enjoyable naked, didn’t you know?” 

You tsked, watching him climb into the tub and make his way over to you. His mouth was immediately on yours, arms around your waist as he tugged for you to stand up. This wasn’t just any type of kiss. Like you’d said before, you knew Seokjin very well by now, and besides, you’d already noticed his dick was half aroused as he stood above you… He had a plan. 

On cue, he broke away, corners of his plump lips tugging upwards with a suggestion. 

“Join me?” 

“Seokjin…” You warned, voice low, hands grazing the tops of his arms. He couldn’t be serious. 

“No one can see us,” he reassured you with a wider smile. 

You mean, he was correct. This time you let your hands make their way to his shoulders, massaging them lightly. “You’re crazy.” 

“Yeah, crazy for you,” he smirked, leaning in to kiss you once again. His lips were slow, coaxing. Even more so as they made their way down your jaw and to your neck. You keened into his touch, his hands grazing down your sides, fingers toying with the sides of your bikini bottoms. “C’mon…” He sunk his teeth into your skin gently and you whined. “I know you want to.” You did indeed. Very much so. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, voice suddenly hoarse. You cleared your throat just as his fingers began to untie the strings of your bra, mouth still peppering your neck with kisses. Until that was your chest was bare, and then his lips were wrapped around one nipple, water rippling with the sudden movement. You moaned as quietly as you could, wanting to encourage him because it felt good, but also nervous as hell because you were outside. You didn’t care if there was no one around for a good mile, you were still out in the open. 

Cupping your breasts in his palms he gazed down at them, sighing dreamily. “Have I ever told you how much I love your tits?”

You raised an eyebrow. “One. Don’t be so crude.” (Not that you didn’t like it.) “And two. Yes, yes you have.” You broke off with a laugh, reaching for him to mesh your mouths together. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, but elsewhere he had a hand down your bikini to grab your ass. 

“What’s gotten – Seokjin!” You practically roared, cutting yourself off as he suddenly dived down into the water, fully submerged, hands attempting to tear your bottoms off. “What are you doing,” you giggled, clinging to his back as you tried to stay upright. He had one of your ankles in his hand, wrestling with the fabric. 

A few moments later he arose successful, flicking his head back to stop his wet hair from dripping in his eyes. He pushed it back further with his hands, forehead now devastating, skin glistening with water droplets. You heart stilled, he looked gorgeous – and naughty. Behind him your bikini bottoms floated to the surface. A smirk spread across his face as he finally replied. “Getting you naked.” And then he was on you. 

He kissed you hungrily, his erection pressed up against you, hot and eager now, just like his tongue. Your fingers threaded through his wet locks, letting him push his body weight into you until the backs of your legs hit the seat. 

“Up here for me,” he pulled away briefly, command light, tapping his hand against the deck behind you. You let him slip his hands around your hips and lift you up, legs spread to accommodate his body, feet still in the water atop of the seat. 

“You’re not too cold?” He made sure to ask, concerned despite being ravenous. You shook your head, desire for him enough despite the night air cooling the water against your skin. Satisfied he immediately dove in, leaning forward to place a kiss against your wetness. You pulsed against the touch, moving back on your elbows to get comfier just as his tongue came out and flicked against your clit. Suddenly you didn’t care that you were outside. 

From up here you had a great view of the expanse of his broad, wet back, muscles rippling as he ate you out. You moaned softly, running a hand through his hair, gaze falling to his face. His eyes were closed, water droplets caught in his dark eyebrows and as if he could feel your eyes watching him, he looked up, smirking against you before he sucked the sensitive bud into his mouth, actions growing more eager as he heard you go crazy for it. 

He knew your body well, which is why he cruelly held off slipping a finger inside of you. Actually, on second thought, he knew damn well that the second he did so, your orgasm would soon follow. It wasn’t hard to tease your body, to control it how he wanted. As soon as you felt his middle digit push inside, you clenched around it, hips bucking into Seokjin’s face as a stifled cry forced its way out of your mouth. He grunted, inserting another finger, curling and uncurling them as his other hand gripped your hip, trying his best to keep you still. It was no use, you were a woman possessed, pleasure beginning to hurtle through your body at an alarming rate. You stretched out, fingers of one hand sliding along the wood beneath you, desperately trying to cling onto something as you moaned uncontrollably. Seokjin hummed along, encouraging you, coaxing the orgasm through your body. With each wave your breath shuddered harder. 

You only started coming to when you felt his fingers slip out of you, his tongue ceasing, mouth now at your inner thigh, kissing you wetly, passionately. Your hands reached for him, wanting him close, but he was already on it, straightening up to meet your mouth. “I need you,” he breathed. You could taste yourself, it was intoxicating. “Here.” 

“Here?!” You exclaimed weakly, unfocused eyes trying to concentrate on his face. 

He kissed you once more, moaning a little. “Yeah.” His hands wrapped around your hips, lifting you further up the decking before he climbed out of the water and crawled over your body, reaching for something behind you. “Look – let’s use this.” He had a beach towel in his hand, the one you’d left draped over one of the wicker chairs, and he hurriedly laid it out, pressing you into it to kiss you again. His cock was hard and wet, bobbing against your inner thighs. 

“Are you sure you’re not cold?” He asked, wet hair now having fallen in his eyes. 

You cupped his face, nodding your head as you leaned up. You were still thrumming from your high. “Yes.” Your tongue curled against his open mouth, slipping in to meet his own. The kiss was messy, distracted, as he spread your legs, hooking one up under your thigh. 

Breaking away from your mouth, he straightened his back and aligned himself at your entrance, needing no hands he was so erect. You clung to his shoulders, waiting for the first thrust. His skin was still dotted with water droplets. “I’m too impatient, baby,” he told you simply, and then he pushed inside. 

Slowly, savouring the feeling of your walls stretching around him, both of you gasping as he bottomed out. With a slow thrust he groaned. “You feel like heaven.” As he leaned in to kiss you, he noticed you trying to hold back a giggle. “What?” 

You burst. “That was so cheesy.” 

Chuckling, he kissed you again, tips of his ears turning red. “Don’t laugh at me.” You snorted, unable to help it, reaching for him in silent apology, despite laughter still escaping you. “Seriously, stoppp,” he whined, dropping his head. 

You grinned. “Or what?” 

That got his attention. Looking up, his top lip twitched. His hand cupped your face, thumb brushing over your lips. “I’ll have to teach you a lesson,” he murmured, voice an octave lower. You opened up, sucking the digit into your mouth, looking up at him knowingly. He knew what you were thinking. That didn’t sound so bad. 

“My mistake.” He smiled, gaze intense as he pulled away, his thumb leaving you with a silent pop. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

You were seconds away from agreeing but became distracted, watching him lift both legs up by the back of your thighs now, hiking them above his shoulders. He dick slipped so deep you choked, feeling so full you didn’t know what to do. 

“S-seokjin,” you panicked, your hands clutching his arms. 

He cocked his head to the side, voice soft. “Trust me?”  

You nodded, something already so addicting about feeling him inside you like this. You felt beyond sensitive, beginning to tremble as he slowly thrust in and out of you, bringing the tip of his cock almost all the way out before sinking back into your warmth. You moaned out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with a pleasure so overwhelming. He sped up, going harder now that he was certain you were enjoying yourself, wet squelches sounding along with your moans and his grunts. You loved watching him fuck you like this, towering down over you, the wet spikes of hair falling down around his face, fucking you with his entire body weight, your ass sliding back and forth against the towel. 

However, you also loved kissing him. Holding him as he thrust inside, keeping him to you. 

“Seokjin,” you breathed, voice tight, hands reaching for him. He got the message, easing your legs to the ground carefully as he took one of your hands and brought it up to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, your name slipping from his lips, breathless and husky. 

He moved closer, capturing your lips eagerly and you hooked your legs around his waist, clinging to the back of his neck in the process as your hips jutted up to meet each roll of his own. You were both panting by now, grunts of exertion slipping from your mouths as you continued to make out. His movements were messier, wet bodies pressed up close, enough to provide enough friction for a second orgasm. 

“Ah… I’m close,” he panted, mouth grazing down your throat as he attempted to keep the same momentum. 

“M-me too.” 

That spurred him on, hips snapping into yours with a cry, newfound determination, lips pressing into yours once more. You came together, out of breath and quite sweaty, but mouths unrelenting. You’d never get enough of kissing him. It was addictive – especially like this. 

Spent, he slid out of your dampness naturally, having grown flaccid, kissing you slowly now, indulgently, until he was moving south, capturing your left breast in his mouth, tongue encircling your nipple. You shuddered as he pulled back, one of his hands cupping the right breast to give that a parting kiss too. It wouldn’t be long before you started growing cold, but you were so content here you didn’t care. 

Seokjin lifted his head up, gazing straight into your eyes. His were warm and soft, drunk on your beauty (or so he would say). “I want to give you the world,” he breathed, sealing his confession with a press of his mouth. 

Your heart swelled, heat prickling your skin and you clung to him. But despite that, you felt the need to joke around. Call it a defence mechanism, who knew. “Men are so weak,” you chuckled, running your fingers through his hair to pull it back, revealing his face again. The tips had already started to dry. “Let them cum inside you and they’re like putty in your hands.” 

He laughed too, genuinely amused, but his eyes were still soft and he leaned into your touch, content with the way you held his face now. “I mean it though,” he whispered. “Tell me what you want. Anything. I’ll make it happen.” 

You raised an eyebrow. He was being ridiculous, acting drunk. Still, you were pretty simple. You didn’t have many wishes, many dreams. “I want to travel on a plane.” 

It was his turn to lift an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like a private jet or?”

“No,” you giggled, “just a plane in general.” You kissed his nose. “You know I’ve never been out of the country before.” 

“You want me to take you on vacation?” He hummed, turning suggestive pretty quickly. “A sexcation?”

“Seokjinn,” you whined, dropping your hands from his face. 

He nudged his nose against yours playfully. “Well, of course there’ll be sex involved, but,” he grew serious, genuinely interested, “where do you want to go?” 

“Hm, anywhere?”

“Anywhere,” he confirmed, adding, “unless it’s another planet, or the moon.” 

You smiled, amused, yet deeply preoccupied now. Where did you want to go? What was your dream destination? You’d had one place in mind since you were a child. Running a hand down his bare chest you suddenly felt coy. “I want to visit Paris.” 

He grinned. “France, Mademoiselle?” 

You matched it. “Oui.” 

“Done.” He kissed you, sealing the deal. “Let’s go there tonight.” 

You burst out laughing at his idiocy. “I have school. You have work – a daughter!”

He laughed too, but he was distracted, gazing at you tenderly once more. He opened his mouth, about to say something but hesitated. Instead he smiled, nodding his head resolutely. “Okay, soon. Very soon.” He laughed when you squealed in excitement, bringing one of your hands to his lips. “I’m going to take you to the most romantic city on earth, baby.” 

.

.

It was Sunday the next day, which meant only one thing. Lazy morning sex. It was his favourite, his time to indulge in all things beautiful and pleasurable he told you. (i.e. You). You’d grown used to his lame lines, he couldn’t help it, and deep down you secretly loved them. A man so shameless with his desire, his devotion. You really had hit the jackpot. 

Sundays were also your excuse to just be lazy in general. You usually skipped breakfast in choice of an early lunch, but today you wanted to picnic outside. You knew in a week or so the weather would begin to change more drastically so this was your last chance. You made a reluctant Seokjin get out of bed and shower with you, ignoring his advances as you did so. He was like a dog in heat. Not that you usually complained, but today you really wanted to hit the grocery store before rush hour. Sundays were always busy. 

A few hours later you had everything ready, outside in the spot that saw the most sun. It bleated down on you as you kneeled, arranging all the dishes across the blanket you’d placed down across the lawn. 

“Oh, shoot. I forgot the salad.” Seokjin realised by the side of you. “I’ll be one sec, honey.” He kissed your cheek as he stood, smacking your ass playfully in the process. “Don’t start without me.”

“What will you do about it?” You called out to him, unable to help it. 

“If you’re feeling brave, I guess you’ll find out.” He called back with a laugh, retreating into the house. 

A good girl, you waited patiently, but then time started to tick on. One minute, then five… At ten you stood up with a sigh. Where was he? You had visions of the salad bowl on the floor smashed to smithereens. You made your way through the doors that led inside the back of the house. You past his study, calling his name. “Seokjin? Did you get lost?”

You were met with silence, which wasn’t surprising, his home was big after all. Down the corridor, closer to the kitchen you began to hear voices. Seokjin’s familiar rumble, although you couldn’t make it out, and then a louder, unfamiliar voice – female. You followed the sound, realising it was coming from the living room nearest the front door. A sick feeling was slowly creeping its way up your throat, but you didn’t understand why. As you got closer your heart began to race, blood rushing through your ears. There was this sudden feeling of dread. It was so strong you could practically taste it, and you were so frazzled you couldn’t concentrate on the words you were hearing as you rounded the corner of the open door, although you did acknowledge them. 

Immediately as you came into view you heard them loud and clear though. Directed at you. 

“Oh, and this is her, right?” 

They were coming from a woman, her dark eyes piercing into yours. She was beautiful, was your first thought. Tall and slim, with long black hair, so silky she could have come straight from a shampoo commercial. It reminded you of someone. Her hair just as dark and shiny. Arin. 

At the thought of the child’s name, you looked down, spotting her beside the stranger, clinging to her hand, eyes wide and shiny with worried tears. Everything clicked into place then. Confusion clearing, yet the sick feeling got stronger. This wasn’t a stranger. It was Arin’s mother. Seokjin’s ex-wife. Nana. And she looked angry. 

You glanced around, spotting Seokjin who was looking your way with apologetic eyes. His face looked torn. He murmured your name, stepping towards you, a protective hand reaching for your own. He held it tight, giving you a comforting squeeze. His palm was clammy. 

“Yes, here she is!” Nana laughed harshly, needing no reply. It made you wince. Beside you Seokjin groaned quietly, rubbing his free hand across his face before he took a deep breath. As if he was gearing himself up. 

You looked at Nana, chest a little tight, something heavy in your stomach. When your eyes locked the corners of her mouth curled upwards. 

“The stepmom!” She sneered. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[kyoomiii]

♡ Kiss and makeup [hcs]

-  ➣. . . ❝ Hey bby ~ ive got a request if its alright! A scenario for making up after a fight with Oikawa please! Tysm! 🤍🤍 ❞

― 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @ anonie ​ ―

- ✎ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 ❝ oikawa, atsumu, and sakusa ❞

- [ 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): heavy mentions of fighting/arguing ]

- ⚘ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 ❝ fluff, angst ❞

❝ hi everyone, i’m not dead- c: ❞

-yoomi ♡

Reconciling with Oikawa takes time

He has a lot of pride and often refuses to admit he’s wrong

Hates apologizing first, but will begrudgingly do it if he has to

It may take time but when he does come to you, he comes to you completely raw and vulnerable

He’s someone emotional and speaks with his heart when it really matters to him

Overall, he’s stubborn and prideful, but at the end of the day he recognizes that none of it is worth losing you.

After making up he’s very clingy and wants to spend as much time with you as he can.

Expect lots of love and tears because he will cry if you cry, and even if you don’t he will still cry

.·:·.☽✧☾.·:·.

The little tap that comes from the window pane is the only thing that draws your attention at this time of night. Turning your head to look at the clear glass, you’re thoroughly surprised to see Oikawa’s face, his cheeks slightly puffed out as he struggles to hold himself up against the window sill. 

You’re quick to hop up from your bed, rushing to open your window as you hurriedly wipe away the trail of tears that have stained your face for the past 2 weeks. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him or that you weren’t happy to see him. However, while that may be so you were still mad at him.

“What are you doing here Tooru.” You huff, arms crossed over your chest as you try to uphold your stern exterior.

“I came to apologize-” He freezes, eyes squinting as he scans your appearance with nothing but the small glimmer of the moon, “Have you been crying?”

Eyes wide and mouth almost agap you frantically shake your head, “No.”

Oikawa feels his chest tighten, guilt consuming his entire being as he takes in your exhausted appearance. It’s pure instinct, but he feels himself reach out to brush your cheeks, the slight tenderness left after so many spilled tears only breaks him further.

“I’m sorry y/n… You’re sad because of me and I promised myself I’d be the reason why you smile.” He scoffs, disappointment in himself evident in the way his eyes stare into your own. Crystal like tears welling up in pools of chocolate.

Sighing you offer him the best smile you can muster, “I will always be worried about you Tooru. You push and push until you can’t take anymore and it scares me. I know volleyball is something you love, and I support you in your goals. But you have to know your limits.” 

His tears finally spill, painting his cheeks in clear streaks, “I’m sorry…”He chokes out, the longing and desperation seeping into every word.

“It’s okay.” You hum pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I forgive you.”

...

“-Now that you guys are finished can you please get off my shoulders Shittyawa.”

Through grateful tears and a snotty nose Oikawa glances down at his best friend who is currently supporting said setter on his shoulders.

“Way to ruin the mood Iwa-chan you brute.”

“Shut up.”

Atsumu is childish to say the least. He has pride, and much like Oikawa he doesn’t like admitting he’s wrong

Arguments are one thing, but when Atsumu fights he fights with his whole being saying what he thinks only to feel guilty later

Him and Osamu argue and fight a lot, and when they apologize it’s always indirect or silent

He’s use to quickly sweeping things under the rug because of that

At first he kind of expects it to be the same with you, until he realizes that simply isn’t the case

Nevertheless it’s still pretty easy to make up with him because he’s not one to hold grudges. Plus he’s clingy and would probably die without constant affection

.·:·.☽✧☾.·:·.

Atsumu can’t help but wonder exactly how he had gotten into this position. Perhaps it’s his knack for being an asshole, or maybe it’s the jealousy he feels towards other guys despite the fact that he has fangirls trailing after him like lost puppies. Nevertheless, he finds himself missing your presence, craving your touch and attention.

“What do ya mean?”

“I said no Atsumu.”

He’s confused to say the least, why won’t you hold him? Are you still mad? It’s been awhile hasn’t it?

“y/n… Are ya really still mad?”

“Yes I’m still mad Atsumu, what you said really hurt me.” You can feel it bubble within you. The frustration and the hurt that has lingered, harbored in your mind for days on end, “I don’t care much for your jealousy. But it's the fact that you think our issues can just be pushed aside. You always ignore the problem, and I’m tired Tsumu… I’m tired.”

Your words set his body ablaze. Atsumu feels breathless as he hears the slight choke of your voice. He reaches out to you, uncertain in his touch as the pads of his fingers meet your uniform. His fingers grasp the fabric, desperate in the way that they curl so tightly around your shirt.

You miss him, you really do. His touch, his smile, his antics. Miya Atsumu’s presence is addicting and you find yourself craving him everyday, even more so now that you’ve spent so much time pushing him away.

“I’m real sorry y/n- I really am. I pulled a shitty ass move and I shouldn’t have treated you that way. I just-” He inhales tilting his head back to hide away the tears that build in his eyes, “I’m an ass and I know that so If you’re done with me, I’ll respect your choices...” 

Fighting with Atsumu isn’t an entirely rare occurrence but you always find a way to reconcile. However, this time feels different. A blooming fear settles itself in his chest. The thought of you leaving terrifies him, but for once he lets go of his ego, his pride. If it’s what you want he’ll live with it. Just as long as you’re happy.

Sighing, you turn to look at him, “I’ve missed you Tsumu.” You hum softly as you gently place your hand on his cheek.

Atsumu leans into your touch, basking in your warmth, as he feels a rush of relief flood through his body, “I’ve missed ya too baby…”He feels like he can breathe again, his body slumping against your own in his moment of shock.

“You’re such a jerk you know?” 

“Only yer jerk- I really do love ya y/n.”

“I love you too Atsumu.”

Much like Oikawa and Atsumu, apologies take time with Sakusa

Not because he refuses to admit he’s wrong, but simply because sometimes he doesn’t know nor does he realize that he’s being a bit much 

It takes time for him to register that he’s being an ass, because while he can be a bit dense he’s not completely oblivious

Reconciling is a quiet, long, and slow process, neither one of you knowing how to approach the other

But nevertheless, both of you are still there quietly mending things as you go

Though it’s a frustrating process. You don’t know where either of you are standing. It’s one big mystery that lingers in the form of tension as you sleep with your backs to one another

Touches filled with longing and days of silence grow tiring. One of you has to crack before things return to how they were

.·:·.☽✧☾.·:·.

Sakusa knows he’s not the easiest person to be around, and that only makes him that much more grateful that you love him so willingly, so easily. It makes him feel full, filled to the brim with the warmth that you give him. 

So at first, he doesn’t understand why you turn your back to him, why you won’t look at him, why you don’t speak to him properly. You’re there but you're not, and he admits he’s the same. It’s straining. Both of you are physically there, but it feels so empty and lonely, like falling into a void of nothing.

He misses you, more than he knows how to say. Especially now as he watches you get ready for another night of silence. 

And he’s right, the room falls into a daunting quiet. The tension in the air is so thick it’s almost suffocating. His body aches to hold you close against him- the only person he feels comfortable embracing so dearly.

“Do you plan on staying so far away?” The sudden break of silence is almost startling. It leaves your body tense, even Sakusa himself is shocked.

“I don’t know Kiyoomi…” And you really don’t. Granted even if you are upset with him you can’t bring yourself to resent him, you know you would be lying to yourself if you said you did. However, at the same time you don’t know if you could let yourself cave so easily.

Sakusa acts faster than he can think, shifting to face your back. Hesitantly, he reaches for you. Fingers delicately brushing against the fabric of your shirt, “I’m sorry.”

It’s overwhelming, all the emotions that flood through your very being. Your body begins to shake as you’re racked with tears, quickly turning to bury yourself in his much needed embrace, “I’m sorry too Omi.” You sob, soaking his shirt much to his distaste- though he can’t bring himself to comment.

And you stay like that for the rest of the night. Basking in the warmth of one another. Holding on so tightly as if to make up for lost time.

He wonders how he was lucky enough to find someone like you.

[blurrycow]

Ive begun to add onto an old TUA fic I started a long long long time ago- I’m posting the first chapter here. I’ll try to post chapters once a week but I have a super tight schedule and it will probably be more like once a month. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that!!

tagging: @jbd302020, @conchshell, @sharkneto, @stupidcanofpeaches, @assaily (luv you guys! Haven’t tagged some of you before so idk how you feel abt this but if you’re ok w it… hi!)

Summary: Five’s family from another timeline come to tell him that the third apocalypse is coming- and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. (All chapter titles are songs and together should form a playlist)

rating: idk? Teens and up?? Nothing too mature, maybe some blood later/gory descriptions

Trigger Warnings: cursing, blood, panic attacks (not yet but we’ll get there)

Chapter one

Call it what you want

Call It What You Want, Foster the People

The coffee is cooling, the smell of the beans wafting off in waves. Five is staring into it like it can heal his soul. It can’t. It’ll take a lot more than caffeine to do that.

Griddy’s is barely full. Agnes is at the counter, drawing something on a sketch pad. Or maybe writing? Five can’t tell. His brain is muddled. It is three am, after all.

Dolores’s voice, however, comes through clear. You should get some sleep, darling.

“I can’t,” says Five groggily. “I still have so much to do.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. The apocalypses have been averted. His siblings are safe, for now. Who even knows what other trouble they’ll get into next. He rolls his eyes. Agnes peers at him curiously. It’s not every day you see a kid mumbling to himself at three am. Or maybe it is, for Agnes. Who knows. Like he said. His brain is muddled, like a clear lake sprinkled with mud.

He takes a sip of his coffee, tense. At least some people know how to make it right. He reminds himself to leave a tip for the waitress later.

A zigzag of red crosses his vision, a bright flash. It’s sudden- a change in the earth, a slight in a breath. There aren’t any people, and then there are. Agnes has vanished. So have the other people in the diner, to be replaced with seven shadowed figures, all different heights. Five’s heart pounds. The rapid beat sounds way too loud. It’s eerily quiet.

Stay calm, Dolores says, turning from reassuring to commanding in an instant. Well, she’s still reassuring, but she’s not trying to coddle him, which is nice, and focus on the figures who probably want to kill you, Five. He can see the people behind him in the reflection of his teaspoon, so he focuses on that. Deja vu clouds his mind. This reminds him of an all too familiar scene in this very same diner, not even a month ago.

Depending on whether these guys mean business or just want to chat, Five will have to plan his response carefully. He weighs the options. Should he snark them to death or just jump right into the killing?

“Ah, you’ve found me,” he says with a sarcastic smile, turning around ever so slightly, just enough to see them all, and not enough to expose himself to a vulnerable position- stabbed in the stomach, or worse. “Care for a cup of coffee?”

“Not really,” the largest person (thing?) says, from the shadowy corner they’re nestled in. “Not much for the bitter taste, I’m afraid.”

Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be. Five isn’t feeling good enough to snark. In fact, he’s kind of worn out. He takes another lazy sip of his coffee. Think, think.

What do they want? ponders Dolores curiously.

Five decides to just jump right into the questions. “Who are you, and why are you here? I don’t have the time or the patience to do this tonight.” Maybe not the wisest idea to announce his inner feelings, but his brain is sluggish. When has he last slept? It’s been almost a week of restlessly pacing the corners of the academy, checking in on his siblings every night, trying to do things to occupy himself so that he doesn’t go completely crazy in the tornado that is his mind.

“We need you to come with us,” says the man in the middle. He’s tall and lean, with brown hair combed messily to the side and pale skin, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. He looks familiar, although Five doesn’t know how.

He looks like Klaus, Dolores muses. Five decides that she’s right. Even if the man looks nothing like Klaus, he has a similar vibe. His mind is moving about as fast as honey right now. Fuck, he needs sleep, although he’d never admit it to Dolores.

Slowly, he starts to slide out of his chair. He can blink back to the academy.

“I’ve no time for negotiation,” the shortest figure barks, and Five stops in his tracks because that’s his voice. “You’re coming with us now. I don’t care if you want to go bawling to your family first, but you’re coming with us.”

All of a sudden Five doesn’t even care if this person is him. He doesn’t bawl. Least of all to his family.

Sometimes you want to, Five, Dolores says. He can feel the sympathy rolling off her in waves.

Hush, he tells her, and then growls to the short person, who has eyes like a possum, “who are you, thinking you can boss me around like that? Do you know who I am?”

“You’re me,” they say calmly, eyes flashing sharp, cutting blue. “But softer.”

“Soft? I’m not soft,” Five protests. “I’ve been through two apocalypses. I’ve killed millions.”

The boy stares him straight in the eye. “And I shot my sister in the head when she posed a threat to save the world. You would never do that. Soft.”

Five can’t think of a response. He just growls again. He is not soft.

But you wouldn’t shoot your sister, either, even if the world was at stake, says Dolores.

That’s different.

Is it? Even though you killed so many, you did it for-

Five does something he’s never done before. He blocks her out. Dolores’s voice fades to nothing, a whispering shadow in his mind.

“I can tell you’re tired,” says the small figure tauntingly (he thinks it’s just a sliver of him. Maybe from another timeline).

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Five declares, standing his ground, hand moving almost magnetically to the steak knife lying conveniently on the bar (so shiny, so stabbable).

One of the figures- an unrecognizable woman with a sheath of purple hair and skin the color of almost-blue marble- steps forward and opens her mouth.

“I heard a rumor that you told us-“

As quick as a flash, Five blinks to her side, steak knife in his hand, pressing it to the jagged scar at her throat. His heart pounds. So my theory is correct. No one other than Allison would start a sentence like that.

But how well do you know Allison?

You did run away.

Yes, but he’s gotten to know her since then. After they’d gotten back, Allison had introduced him to Claire, had told him about her career and showed him affection and love, however reluctant he responded. He loves his sister, even if he has a strange way of showing it.

“Five, back off,” says the largest figure from its nook in the shadows. If this is Allison, this must be Luther. He’s even larger than Five’s version. Waist up, he’s a green-gray ape, tubes connecting to a metal red collar, head comically small in comparison to his hulking body.

Five snarls at him, and Luther backs away, eyes to the ground. Coward. Luther always was one of the gentlest of the Hargreeves, though Five still hadn’t forgiven him for throwing him off the stairs.

“Let go of Rumor,” snaps an irritable, familiar voice. It’s a blond man in a prison bodysuit, a skull graphic positioned underneath his breastbone. He’s wearing his underwear outside his clothes. Five thinks it’s ridiculous and impractical. And then he wonders if the man’s wearing underwear underneath his clothes, and then he stops wondering.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” he says, childishly.

“You could have blinked by now,” the other Five says. “So what’s stopping you?”

“Many factors, that you were too dumb to notice,” Five responds.

“Let’s cooperate,” says the man who is Klaus but is not Klaus. While he talks, he gestures his hands wildly, as though he can’t set them down for a second. Hello and goodbye flash into Five’s line of sight. His teeth are pointed, like a vampire’s. “We should start with a polite introduction. I’m Klaus Hargreeves. The woman you’re holding a knife to is named Allison. Luther is the big guy over there, and Five is the smallest but also the oldest-“

“Seniority outmatches size,” little Five says smugly.

“As I was saying,” continues not-Klaus, “Diego’s the cheerful man with the bad sense of fashion, and Vanya is the girl with the violin. Did I miss anyone?”

Other-Diego glowers at his description.

“Nope,” says Vanya, who does not look like Vanya. She’s too lean, too slight, her fashion is wrong, her hair is too short, her smile too wan. Five’s head hurts as his brain bends yet again, attempting to accommodate this new information, that he has another family, and they’re from another timeline, and they’re here. It’s not so hard to believe, he supposes, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less appalling.

“State your purpose,” he barks, gathering his thoughts and pushing them into the black void in his mind he saves for after dark, when he can properly mull over his choices and his thoughts and sort them into neat little filed rows, so they won’t fly out of nowhere like papers in the wind, into his eyes and blinding him from his duty. He steps away from Other Allison and walks back over to the bar to pick up his coffee. No one stops him.

The Other Five rolls his possum eyes and smiles grimly. “Gather your family, Hargreeves. We’re here to help you stop the apocalypse. For the third time.”

[ivybucky]

dog tags and photographs - s.r. x fem!reader

Request from @moonstuffsteve : OK OK BUT CAN I REQUEST A STEVE FIC WHERE READER IS LIKE WASHING HIS UNIFORM AND FINDS A PICTURE OF HER IN THE SUIT AND GETS ALL HAPPY AND LIKE STEALS HIS DOGTAGS AND STEVE THINKS ITS THE CUTEST THING EVER THANK YOU

a/n: this was adorable and just so domestic so thank you Al! I’ve fallen into a nice little writing routine recently and ive been cranking these requests out like they’re NOTHING. as always, thanks for supporting my writing and fics i put out- i really want this blog to turn into something great, but i need to work on it a little bit more. 

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author: abby<3

words: 1385

cw: mention of stress, rough mission, domesticity, worry

Y/N smiled to herself as she listened to her boyfriend’s snores echoing through the apartment, something he swore he didn’t do. She had half a mind to record it, but the win wasn’t worth the fight.

She picked his uniform off the ground of the bedroom, shaking off whatever dust she could. His undershirt was thrown across the room next to the bed. She gathered it in her arms before looking towards his sleeping face. His hair had stuck to his forehead, sweat and dirt acting as an adhesive. Her nails picked at it, brushing it away from his face, before laying a sweet kiss to his forehead where his brows were drawn up with whatever dream he was having.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to wash Steve’s uniform. While he was definitely a gentleman, who would never make her do his laundry, Y/N took pride in doing this for him whenever he had a rough mission. He could sleep off the stress while you made sure he woke up to a stress and responsibility-free environment.

She huffed, walking towards the washer, making a mental reminder to set his combat boots out to dry the mud he tried to avoid tracking in. How many pockets does a combat suit need? You don’t see Nat with this many pockets. She knew how Steve was, how he had his own knives, and tools scattered between the fabric of his uniform. Opening every pocket was more of a chore than actually doing the washing, but it was part of the process.

Her hands brushed over soft paper, different from the usual metals that she found from extra bullets to blades. No, this was soft, pliable to her working fingers. She tugged the gently folded piece from his chest pocket. Curiosity grabbed a hold of her, urging her to unfold it and inspect it carefully. It was a photo of the two of them, when they had gone out for her birthday in the last month. He had pulled them to the park, stopping by her favorite store, and then taking a stroll. Y/N had convinced him to take pictures with the self timer on her polaroid, leading to him keeping the photo.

She hadn’t expected him to hold to it like this, folded neatly into the pocket of what he wore whenever he was away from her. She smiled, remembering how he had wrapped his arms around her that day, resting his chin at the juncture of her neck. Happy looked good on him.

She set the photo down in the basket she used to keep his things together, reminding herself to ask about it later. The washer rumbled slightly as the heavy fabric sloshed in the water.

“Sweetheart?” He called through the apartment, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Hi sleepyhead,” she wrapped her arms around his middle. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I think so. Where’s my-”

“In the wash, don’t worry about it.”

“Wait,” his back stiffened in panic. “Is it already running?”

“Baby, I said don’t worry I got everything out of the pockets.”

He paused again, cheeks going a little bit redder. “Everything?”

Y/N only smiled knowingly, reaching up to press a smile to his cheek. “Everything. Now what do you want for dinner?”

He smiled sheepishly, following her into the kitchen.

----

A couple of weeks had gone by and all Y/N felt was guilt. While she knew that she was caring enough in her relationship with Steve, she had sort of underestimated her importance to him. Important enough to carry a physical photograph in his uniform.

And while he obviously had held onto something of her while he was away, Y/N had yet to find something to bring her own self any kind of comfort. Most days spent alone while Steve was on a mission were spent trying to stay busy, to keep her mind off worrying. The missions where he couldn’t communicate were the worst. The only thing to keep her feet on the ground was their apartment. The way his scent lingers on the sheets, the small stack of drawing journals in the corner of their room, the record player sitting in the living room. While they were all things uniquely him, they weren’t close enough, needing to hold more meaning.

He was gone now, hundreds of miles away, doing what he did best - be a hero. Y/N’s knee bounced as she sat back on the couch, waiting for her boyfriend to return. He had sent a message hours ago, saying he was on his way back, saying not to wait up. She knew she would stay away as long as she could though, just to see him when he returned.

She tried to relax, wearing one of his large t-shirts and listening to a soft record as she waited. Time, however, was not kind and only continued to move slowly. With a sigh, she decided to do some chores, any chores that were left, to pass the time. That is when she saw them.

While Steve had amazing leadership skills, he was, in reality, quite forgetful when he wasn’t focused on doing his patriotic deeds. That’s why when Y/N moved to the bathroom to change out the towels and saw Steve’s dog tags on the counter, she paused. Thin metal was smooth through fingers, save for the imprints of his name and service numbers that her thumb ran over gently.

It was bittersweet, honestly - holding the thing that began Steve’s entire career, and not having him there to bring any kind of comfort. She pushed away whatever sadness remained, clutching the chain to her chest as she walked back to the living room. Without thinking too much about it, she slipped the necklace over her head, letting the tags hang just under her sternum.

Suddenly, she had something. Something with much more meaning than a scent, something tangible, something close enough. Her worried adrenaline left her body, and as she settled into the couch, she was able to fall asleep with ease for the first time since he had left.

--

Steve was almost worried when he entered the quiet apartment. His return was usually met with some kind of fanfare - a tight hug around his neck, a body scan for any injuries, an interrogation of his mental well-being. Tonight though, the apartment remained quiet as he shuffled through the threshold of the front door. His eyes swept over what he could see, finding nothing too out of place. Of course she cleaned. His ears, those genetically modified ears, however, picking up the slight snore, something she swore she didn’t do, of her sleeping form.

His feet carried him to the living room where she laid against the cushions, wrapped in his shirt, clutching his military tags in her hand. His shoulders dropped as he took in the sight, a new kind of relief hitting his body.

He crouched down, a dirty hand gently brushing the hair away from her forehead. “Y/N?”

“Mmm?” she mumbled, brows scrunching at the vibration of his voice. “Steve? You’re home.”

“Yeah, baby,” he smiled. “Want me to carry you to bed?”

Y/N rubbed her eyes as she nodded, tags falling from her fingers. He swept her up in his arms, thanking a god he had strength in his body. Her head rested against his chest, hand trailing over his heart. His mouth pressed a kiss to her forehead, adoring the sight before him.

“You wearing my tags?” he asked softly, not wanting to disturb whatever peace she still held onto.

“‘M sorry. Was missing you.”

“Shh, baby, don’t apologize.” He set her body down in the bed, pulling the sheets up over body. “You look better in them than I do.”

He left her to take a shower, but not before she called out for him, grabby hands sent in his direction. “Steve?”

“I’m coming right back, I just gotta wash off. I’m covered in sweat.”

“Don’t care. C’mere.”

He chuckled, slipping out of his uniform and saddling up next to her under the sheets. He kissed her head again, whispering words of love and comfort as she fell back into her slumber.

He had never been happier to fall asleep in his life.

forever tags: @avengers-do-it-better @maisondumepris​ @hamiltonwrite12​

steve and bucky tags: @fab-notfat​ @mcueveryday​ @nanners-the-great​ @mcubuckyandsteve @captainfile​ @moonstuffsteve​

steve only tags: @patzammit​

[firewoodfigs]

Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️

hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰

                                       +++++

Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.

First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.

Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.

Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.

She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.

Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.

“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”

“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”

Luckily, he obliges without much retort. 

“Your wish is my command.”

Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.

“Three words,” she mutters.

“Eight letters?”

“Twelve, actually.”

Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”

“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”

“Not really.”

“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright.”

He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.

“You should sleep, sir.”

She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)

He shrugs.

“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”

And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.

Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.

“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”

He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.

Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.

“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”

“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”

Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)

“Humour me, Lieutenant.”

“What?”

“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”

Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.

“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”

“I can’t see —“

“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”

He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”

“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”

He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”

“Good.”

She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.

“It’s your move, sir.”

“You’ve made yours?”

“No. You’re playing white.”

“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”

Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”

He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.

Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.

(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)

He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.

Still as aggressive as ever, sir.

Of course.

The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.

“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.

“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”

“I think so too, sir.”

He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.

Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.

She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.

(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.

But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)

They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows  he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.

Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.

I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.

Roy smiles.

“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”

[infectedpaul]

You Matter To Me (Squip/Reader)

You've had your Squip for a bit now and it's been fine for the most part, until he brings up the idea of looking into romantic relationships with others which opens up a lot of wounds you wanted to just bury deep and forget about. But you can't begin the road to recovery without asking why you got there, right?

SO IVE NEVER....WRITTEN AN X READER B4 UGH HJKSAJDASKDJSA esp not for a near dead fandom OH WELL oh well oh well h ignore this my normal followers please please

(warning 4 talks of depression/self degrading talk, its hurt comfort yada yada i need 2 touch grass ik)

ao3 link if u prefer that!!

You weren't made for love, at least, you didn't think so.

For as long as you'd been looking for it, it was always so out of reach. Easily visible, sure. Walking past groups of friends laughing it up on the sidewalks, partners entangled in each other's arms, seemingly trying to make their love known for all. But for you to have any of that for yourself? The heat death of the universe would sooner come, surely.

You'd sort of given up on it. It would be nice, you'd think. To be held, wrapped up in someone's arms, and just to stay there for as long as either of you could want. That cozy, warm feeling of being with someone that you only saw in movies or read about in books. But you had just accepted it wasn't in the cards, so to speak. And you were fine with that.

Well, you told yourself anyway. You knew it was for a deeper reason, though, but that wasn't something you liked to think about too heavily.

It was easier to do that when you didn't have a roommate that could dig into your brain and pry every little detail about them out of you.

When you got your Squip, you didn't know it'd be so adamant about perfecting every little last thing you were. How long or short your hair was styled, if your shoes matched your eyes, how fast or slow you were walking and how too brisk would make you seem like you were constipated but too slow and your likelihood of getting run over by a horse-drawn carriage gone would go up much higher, nevermind that you've never even seen a horse in real life.

What you did know, by now at least was that the Squip was persistent, seeing himself as your guardian angel, a guiding light in your desolate dark world of humanity, ickiness and week old pizza boxes you were too unmotivated to at least move off the bed.

So when his ideal response wasn't given when he proposed seeking out a lovelife, he was...well,

"I'm not sure I understand." His head crooked to the side, puzzled by your surface level indifference, "You're of consenting age, marginally attractive and only slightly under average at socializing. Finding a mate can't be too hard."

His holographic form hummed a soft, near silent buzz, a small imperfection to his otherwise flawless binary makeup. Other than that, and the soft, tinted blue glow around his form, he looked completely human. A little too human, really. Something so real, realer than any CG or video game, but something was just...off, something from the uncanny valley. You hadn't kept him in this form long, you liked to change it up from time to time, maybe to trick yourself into thinking he was someone new, making your brain think you had more friends besides the computer you bought behind a Rack Room.

You didn't look at him though when you responded, too preoccupied with the paper in front of you, decorated with a few characters concocted from your imagination. "I dunno," you shrug, brushing off eraser marks, "Just not my thing, I guess." You could feel his confusion, a bit of gut feeling as his thoughts jumbled in with your own. He was really only in your brain, afterall; the figure behind you sitting on your bed was just something he made up to ease your brain into trusting a new, larger source of perpetually growing information. "But, the purpose of this time in your life is to mate and birth young, is it not?"

You really wished he'd learn to stop talking about you and 'the homo sapien species' like you were a mindless ape made to breed and nothing else.

"Uh, I mean not really. I know that's what everyone around me is doing," Your mind thought back to all the cringey baby announcement videos from kids you knew in high school, "But it's...I guess I'm just not up for it. It's not really for people like me."

He was quiet. Only for a second, before he asked,

"People like you?" Another silence hung in the air. It was a truth you knew he could easily just reach into your brain and find for himself so you kept quiet for a bit longer, waiting for him to start digging. But you didn't feel it, that very familiar sudden ache in the back of your head you got when he went poking around for more things to nag at you about. Just quiet in your room, only the soft buzz and birds tweeting outside your window any solace from the uncomfortable silence you felt.

You shrugged again, and turned to face him, seeing now the muddled and a little concerned look on his face. "You know? The quiet ones, the losers. People like me don't get to be loved. I've just accepted that." You could have said a lot worse, and it seemed like he knew that. You didn't really understand, either. You didn't like yourself, plain and simple.

His concern only seemed to grow, eyebrows furrowing and staring intently at you. You thought for a second, maybe it was anger. It wouldn't be the first time. You were mostly compliant to his (mandatory) suggestions for life improvement, but every once in a while he would propose an idea that you would fight about, like clothes you weren't comfortable wearing for one reason or another. He said he was a learning computer, so he would need your help on things like emotions and comfiness, physical or mental, ruling out whatever the newest trends were. He would be fine afterwards but, he could get pretty huffy about you trying on too skinny-skinny jeans.

But that didn't happen, there wasn't a small but fierce jolt of electricity in your back to stop you from going against 'social programming', as he called it. He just looked at you a bit longer, seemingly turning gears in his head as he tried to process what you're saying.

You gave him a sober smile, trying to still seem indifferent, though for a second you wondered maybe if he was still prying at you, in a different way at least, because if he was, it seemed to be working.

"What? I'm just not that special. You of all people know that, right?" It was almost like you weren't hearing what was coming out of your mouth, that casual self-degradation that almost frightened him. You heard stories from message boards about that, older models of the Squip forcing reprogramming onto the host by breaking down their emotional state with verbal or physical punishment for...just existing, really.

He wasn't really like that though. Yes he could be annoyed when you didn't comply, but you were both good at compromise and treated situations like adults, even if at first you weren't much motivated to treat any situation at all. He informed you while you were looking through those boards that his creators had taken in accounts of previous incidents and built more of a guide to self-improvement than a ball and chain with a backhand. Humans were fragile, he knew that, and it wasn't okay to hurt them just to get a little closer to their goal.

But maybe, did he not think that humans were more than capable of hurting themselves? Their own words used against them, their internal voices bashing against their brains, turning them to mush and making them too scared or unmotivated to build it back up again.

"I just know no one would love some useless, pitiful person...I just kinda got over that a while ago." You almost frightened him with how nonchalant you were about the whole thing. It wasn't intentional, you weren't trying to seek attention or be funny. You just knew there was plenty of other people out there worthy of all that lovey-dovey stuff you thought would be nice but...it's just not meant for you.

There was a knot in his voice as he finally spoke up,

"That's why I'm here, isn't it?" The last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place, but he didn't look satisfied, not that cheeky, self-centered chagrin when things went his way or when he was proven right yet again.

You thought he knew that. You thought from day one he just figured that out and that's why he's been trying so hard to make you into a model citizen or something. "Did you just think you were here to help me pick out clothes in the morning?" You laughed, he seemed to know it was forced.

"Well...y-yes, maybe. I just...I never looked into that possibility of…" He was regaining his composure; this was a side you've never seen of him before. He's always been so astute, robotic and to the point. He's never fumbled over his words or had to give himself a second to figure out what to say next.

"How long has it been like this, Y/N?" His hands were folded neatly on his lap, still looking you dead-on, waiting for you to answer his distressed queuerie with worried patience.

You got up out of your chair, pushing it back and behind you to step away from the table and your drawings. "I dunno," you said, taking a few steps towards the long mirror hung on your wall, "for as long as I can remember, I guess." You looked at your reflection, only tired, dark eyes looking back at you. Even though the edge of the bed was visible in the mirror, your Squip didn't show up in it, another reminder of just how alone you were outside of your head.

"I just started to feel like I didn't belong more and more and...that ate me up so much I just started believing in it. I-I didn't wanna go to school or talk to people or even get up 'cause...well," You turned away from the mirror before you could see the tears you'd been holding back, looking at the more distressed figure in view of you again, "what would anyone be missing, really?" You still smiled, that big smile you both worked so meticulously on making seem not too forced when you had to act excited or just blend into normal social gatherings, but it wavered so easily, like a thin strip of paper about to tear off the nail that barely held it up on the wall.

His eyes widened at the sight of your tears, immediately getting up and briskly walking to stand in front of you, not knowing how to proceed in the moment. He hadn't had to deal with something like this yet and he was troubleshooting to see what was the correct response to a human breakdown.

You looked down, covering your eyes with one hand and clenching the other into a fist, big, strained smile still plastered on your face and trying so hard not to seem more weak than you knew you were. You were nothing. You knew that, you thought he did too. You thought you could just fix things, but how could you do that without getting to the source? You knew you couldn't just sidestep around why you wanted things to get better with humans, but with a computer who could read your brain like the newspaper, you thought maybe you could get around that.

You heard him sigh before a feeling of arms wrapping around you caught you off guard, the Squip entangling you in his grasp and his head resting on yours. It was all simulated, you knew. He had done things such as lightly punch your arm as if to say 'Good job, Sport!' or tap your shoulder to grab your attention without startling you, but this was different. He held onto you for a good couple of seconds, a wave of warmth spreading through your body in an instant. He pet back your hair with one hand, rubbing your back with the other and finally broke the silence in the room.

"Y/N, it- ...it pains me, hearing you speak that way about yourself. You're…" He looked down at you, holding you a bit closer and tightening his grip just a tad. "You're an incredible, talented, wonderful person. You've come so far and you've taught me so much about humans and myself and I just couldn't ask for a better-" He stopped. You knew what he was going to say, a better host, a better human, a better assignment to help and guide and-

"A better friend."

A friend?

He never referred to you or anyone with such a personal or affectionate term. It almost didn't seem real, like you maybe misheard him. Your smile had shattered into a small frown and, with teary-eyes and your voice already cracking, you looked up at him, meeting his almost-heartbroken eyes in an expression that looked so foreign on his normally composed face.

"What?"

He gave a weak smile, trying to be comforting but his fear showing plain as day. You could feel it within you too, a pit in your stomach forming as your chest tightened. You knew it wasn't your anxiety, but his.

"Do I need to repeat myself, Y/N? I think of you as a friend and..." His hand moved off of your back and ran itself up to rest on your shoulder, the other holding your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb. "I want to do all I can to show you that from here on."

You almost couldn't breathe as you looked at him, feeling for the first time that unconditional love you yearned for. You could feel your heart race in your chest, something you knew he could feel too but you were too crushed to say anything. You simply slammed yourself into his chest, grabbing fistfulls of his shirt that made your hands tingle like they fell asleep. His arms enveloped you yet again, the both of you holding onto each other so tight like either of you would fall through the floor if you let go.

You sobbed and sobbed and sobbed for what felt like hours, and, just maybe, you thought you could hear him crying too, but that'd be silly...right?

When you were finally out of tears to cry, you stood there still, simply bathing in each other's presence, the feeling you only saw in others finally yours. And you knew it was only a matter of time before this too was stolen from you, the universe would take back anything from people unworthy but...for right now, you wanted to be a little selfish.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, face still buried in his shirt.

"For?" His head was rested on yours again, holding up your weak and tired form with no effort, just trying to keep you propped up until you were ready to let go.

"I got you to help me but...I can't even let you in like I'm supposed to. But...I want to. I just want help." You pushed yourself off of him, one thought between you and him and his hands meeting yours, the simulated tingle in there again as you held each other's palms in yours and looked at each other with such exhausted eyes and worn-out but so genuine smiles.

He leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead, a soft hue of pink blush spreading on your drained and exhausted face.

"I'd love to help, friend."

[hitoshisbabygirl]

Author's Notes ♡: Hello hello! Welcome to my first JJK fic for our free for all Valentine’s Day collab! I had fun with this free idea , I always wanted to do an AU like this so it gave me a bases for future ideas! Enjoy~ bunny ❥

Warnings : None! Some heavy kissing and such but nothing too explicit , Yuuji and Sukuna are twins ♡

Word count : 3.8k

Paring(s) : Tattooist!Sukuna x F! Reader

Enjoy ♡

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Sukuna couldn't stand it, the girl his brother brought over to his shop plagued his mind. Wide eyed and just as happy as Yuuji it was infuriating how energetic the pair was in the tattoo shop. He was used to the sound of his brother asking for him but once he hear a second voice his hand twitches , eyes moving from the drawing in front of him as his appointment in front of him practically was begging fro his attention, occasionally trying spark up a conversation as he drew out a rose, planned for her collarbone “So, did all of you tattoos hurt?” The girl asked, pushing herself closer as he continued to stech, not paying her much mind. “No, I guess i've always had tough skin though.” He said as the girl hummed and giggled continuing her talking “I've been afraid of needles for as long as I could’ve remembered, but maybe this'll get me over my fear huh?” she questioned as all he did was hum, finishing the small design. “Maybe. Is this okay?” He asked her as she gasped, her giggling increasing to his dismay

“Omg i love it! You're a good worker with your hands” She said as he started to get ready, popping off his rings as he put on gloves, running up red and black inks for the rose to be. “Your right shoulder, right?” Sukuna asked as she confirmed, moving her shirt a bit too low to try to entice him. Pushing more of it back up, Sukuna placed and got the stencil ready, finally looking up to the girl “Tell me if there's anything wrong okay ?” He said as she gave him an almost hungry look “oh please i sure will” And with that he started the tattoo, the girl he was tattooing letting out small cries and gaps. Every one of the sounds made him stop, checking on her as the girl tried to act differently but he knew she was in pain. Once the girl stopped in a crying spell and was able to calm down from the help of the giant tattooist “s-sorry i didn't know my collar bone was so sensitive” she said as he said she was okay, starting to go back to her tattoo once everything was better with the girl. Once finished , she started to pay when she started to hit on him again “ I'm still sorry for that whole thing , how about I get you a drink for the troubles huh?” She threw at him as he gave her a small smile “I have more clients later, and i'd rather not drink, don't really like to unless its special'' Sukuna responded as the girl admired her new rose that covered a small portion of her chest and collarbone “ How about we go celebrate my new tattoo? And the fact you helped me through it huh?” She suggested. Before he could respond he heard the high pitched sounds of laughter. Looking up to his door he saw his annoying brother but with one of the most beautiful girls he ever saw. Once finishing the payment with his client and her sliding her number on a piece of paper his brother came up with his friend “Hey Su! I want you to meet my bestfriend [ ]!” his hyper twin brother Yuuji said as Sukuna looked at the girl in front of them. She looked to be their age , shorter than him with a few tattoos and dyed hair herself. “Nice to meet you young lady”

Sukuna said as he took her hand, giving it a kiss. [ ] giggled as Yuuji fake choked, his brother rolling his eyes at him “ What? Not my fault you've never brought her around me, she's a lady, gotta give her a proper introduction right?” Sukuna teased as Yuuji grumbled causing [ ] to laugh “Well nice to properly meet you Sukuna , ive heard so much about the woman lure bad boy whos the polar opposite of his sweet and innocent twin” She teased as he gave her his own smirk “ Yet i know nothing of the cute little girl standing in front of me” Sukuna lashed back as [ ] felt her face heat up, a laugh coming from her. His brother pouted he stood in front of his brother , giving him a knowing look. “I brought her here for a tattoo, idiot” He said as Sukuna gave him a raised eyebrow, looking at the girl beside him “Is that right doll? Came here for a tattoo?” He asked as she gave him a shy smile back “Well erm, i kinda wanted to start a sleeve with you if that's alright?” with widened eyes Sukuna and Yuuji were surprised together, the strawberry blondes both looking as the girl gave them a confused look back “What? Is that bad?” She asked as sukuna kicked in “Nah, i'm surprised that you'd choose me ,i'm not the usual girly tattoo sleeve maker” He said as she gave him a smile, “And i'm not your usual girly girl who just wants flowers and shit as my tattoo” She retorted back as he gave her an impressed smirk, ushering her to the back of his studio room “You can come too twerp” he said to his brother as yuuji ran to join them, headed to the back room.

This became a recurring theme as over the next few days and even weeks , Sukuna and [ ] met to talk about her new additions, adding and removing elements as they started to get a good picture of what they both thought looked the best together, some ideas being saved for other single tattoos. “So how do you like it so far sweetheart?” Sukuna asked as [ ] gave him an enthusiastic squeal, moving over the turned drawing desk as she fell forward to hug the tattooed covered man. Shocked by her random falling grasp he chuckled, catching her so she wouldn't hit her hip on the swerving table and half giving her a hug back as they laughed together. [ ] pulled back some as she started to notice more differences between the twins. Starting with Sukunas face ; it was more clear and sunkissed, small freckles adorned his cheeks from the sunshine. Unlike his twin, she noticed how more stocky and strong his body and face was compared to Yuuji. The twins were pretty much identical , except for how they acted, the fact that Sukuna had tattoos and the sometimes usual differences between twins, like style and other small discrepancies. Unlike the bright and colorful yet athletic look Yuuji had , Sukuna tended to be more of a dark artsy look, usually black clothes , ripped jeans , rings and chains. He tended to give off the usual bad boy vibes, someone who you wouldn't want your parents to meet.

But under his hard exterior he was very personable , just as sweet as his twin. As she was lost in her own thoughts , her hands pushing off his chest he snapped her back to reality, a finger going under her chin as he gave her a gentle smile , catching the girl in midthought of her tattooist “Aren't you something….what's on your mind [ ]” He rasped out as her eyes widened, realizing how close they were. From the standing mirror she could really see it ; one of her thighs was in between his spreaded ones, the other in his right arm. From her arms wrapped around his neck her face was close to his, the two of them slightly chest to chest. Her body felt hot as the male in front of her smirked, meeting her eyes in the mirror as he looked at the scene in front of him too. Eyeing her in the mirror he could imagine the work to be put atop her skin, and how pretty she'd be in his work, the thought gave him a sense of protectiveness and overall close bond with the girl he was around for more than he'd had before. Spending hours a day , almost everyday except his super packed days had gotten him a closer bond with her and even with his twin brother, the group of them and their other friends relaxing and enjoying time together. The little things that they all did together made him realize how much he enjoyed taking a break. And how much he'd fallen for his new client.

Coming from his own thoughts he pulled her right leg higher onto his lap, causing her to fall forward as she gasped, their faces impossibly closer. “Hm...youre pretty when youre flustered..” he said absentmindedly as he looked back to them in the mirror ,wrapping an arm around her waist as he gave her a sly smile, moving back into the chair he sat in “S-sukuna?” [ ] questioned as he hummed, sliding his eyes from the mirror to her questioning ones. Tracing the hand on his chest he rose a brow, a silent sign to continue. “I-I can get down. I'm sorry i was a little excited-” She continued as she started to move. With quick ease Sukuna kept her in place, rubbing the back of her thigh as he leaned in, pulling her closer by the backs of her thighs “I like you here. You don't have to move unless you're uncomfortable” He said as she ran a hand through his messy hair, sliding it to his cheek as he laid his head in it, kissing her palm. With the small caring action she squeaked , making the male chuckle “Am i...moving too fast” He said , his voice barely a whisper as he tightened his grasp on her waist, eyes searching hers.

“N-no i'm just...surprised?” She half questioned as he gave a knowing smile, shifting her weight to completely have her in his lap. With a high pitched squeal and giggles [ ] landed comfortably , her calves hanging off as her thighs tightened around his waist. “See, isn't this more comfortable?” He asked as she shyly hid in his neck, overwhelmed by his random acts of affection “Sukuna...are you trying to just make me embarrassed” She whined as he stroked her back, putting her face deeper in his neck “Mh..no not particularly..kinda just...thinking” He said as he pulled his phone out. Facing the mirror he took a silent picture, a smirk on his lips as he looked it over. her body was perfectly flushed with his , her arms around his neck as the tattoo down her side was more prominent in the picture. From the way it looked was just a couple taking a handsy photo but for Sukuna, it was a seal for how he felt. He wanted to take more pictures like this, but with them being together. Mirror selfies, clothes or even more explicit for his own gallery ; he loved the way they looked together. Noticing how quiet he was [ ] sat up looking at the male as he set his phone up facing the mirror before squishing her face “Everything okay?” She asked with a squished face as he laughed , releasing her cheeks “I love this..” He admitted as she gave him a wide eyed look , his warm ones looking away from hers

“I know..all of this could be seen as a very lewd way to admit my feelings but..honestly i'm used to just having women want me for free tattoos and well..yknow..my talents'' Sukuna said as he gave her a crooked smile, a laugh coming from [ ] as she understood what he meant, but the fact that he's admitting feelings for her made her heart flutter “S-so you like me?” She asked warily as he let out a light sigh, leaning up to put their faces close again “Hey [ ]...i know this is awkward and embarrassing...for me at least...but..may i kiss you?” He whispered over her lips as she silently shook her head, letting her eyes feel heavy as he got closer, rubbing their lips faintly together. As soon as she tighten her arms around his neck he pushed his record on his phone, sealing their lips together. As the two started to make out he tightened his hands around her waist, a low hum coming from his throat as he bit her bottom lip, sliding his tongue in. the more heated it got the more she whimpered, pulling her kiss plumped lips away from his. Groaning he chased her lips, crashing them against his as they started to kiss again. Letting her nimble fingers move up from his neck she tugged at his hair at the back of his nape, making the male growl as he rocked her closer to him, his larger arms wrapping over her waist.

Once again she whined and pulled away, putting her head against his “Sukuna...I..geez you-” trying to catch her breath he gave an airsh laugh. Ending his video. Catching him touch his phone [ ] reached for it “What did you do?” She asked as he held the phone above his head, watching them kiss again as he grinned “Oh nothing..just wanted my confession is all” He said as she gave him a look “[ ]..i really do like you...god i could say i'm almost in love…” “Almost?” She whispered as he kissed her lips again “More like i am but..i dunno how you feel about me” He said as she gave him a soft look, kissing his cheek “I love the time we've spent together, and well, if you'll have me i'll be yours” She responded. A wide smile on his face as he leaned back in to kiss her, the new couple giggling through the sessions as they finalized the rest, starting on the masterpiece they had crafted together.

Starting on her sleeve was one of the most enjoyable things she had done. Every few weeks to a month depending on the healing time she was adding her next piece. As she finished all of her linework it came to coloring her colorful bits. For the next few months again she finished it, all while spending time with her tattooist boyfriend and friends. As she was to the final stretch of heer coloring she knew valentines day was coming up more and more. Her and Sukuna had been dating for around a year now, just a few weeks shy of it. As she came to the shop she waved to the receptionist, giving him a smile “Hey Megs, how are you?” Megumi, the inky haired boy looked up from his journal and gave [ ] a rare smile, “Hey [ ]! I'm good ,how are you today? Sukunas is in the back if youre ready for him” He said as she gave him smile “That's good! I'm so excited my tattoo should be done just in time for valentines day! Speaking of, do you have an idea of your valentine this year?” She teased as he gave her a shy look “Ah...not particularly but maybe once it came i would” He said as she gave him a nod in understanding. Hearing his girlfriend talking Sukuna came out, a grin on his lips “Hey babe” He said as he gave her a kiss to her neck, causing Megumi to groan as she giggled “Cmon dont make him uncomfortable with your affection, lets go big boy” She joked as she took her strawberry blonde to his room “Ah okay babe let me see your arm” Sukuna started as she took of his jacket, revealing her sleeveless crop top and work of art on her left arm. Turning her arm some he looked over her lines and color deposits , making sure everything looked right. “Its coming along nicely [ ]..i just have this little pieces on your forearm and we'd be done with piece” He said happily as she gave him a soft smile “I love it...just as much as i love you” She said as he looked up from her arm , giving her a shy smile “I love you more [ ]”

Sukuna said as he leaned up, kissing her lips as he set up his inks and machine, snapping his gloves as he started to finish her last pieces. As the buzzing of the machine lulled her comfortingly she caught the determined and concentrated look on his face as he tattooed away “Where do you wanna go on valentine's day...hypothetically speaking” Sukuna asked randomly as she started to fill in lines. Blinking comically, she looked down at her boyfriend. “Anything youd come up with” She said as he hummed, finishing up the last color as he wiped it clean, starting to clean up the ink and smaller tears in her skin hidden by the fresh ink. “Princess...thank you for letting me be the one that did your art…” He said as he traced her hand , kissing her fingertips as he flashed her a smile. “I love you more Su..” [ ] whispered back as she leaned forward, kissing his forehead.

As the two sat there in his studio and talked [ ] drew up a heart with their names in it , giggling as she showed her boyfriend “Look babe!” She said as he stopped cleaning his desk, analyzing her work “I like it, a lot. You did a great job sizing wise, and i always loved your cursive” he said as he ran a finger over the art again “You said you wanted to get better at tattooing, right?” Sukuna asked as he still looked over the design “Yeah i did, what about it?” [ ] asked as he stretched , reaching over as he pulled out his darkest black ink and vibrant red. Soon he picked up two pairs of gloves and one of his various machines “Ill let you do this on me, and i can do it on you if youd like” He said as she gave him a happy screech, starting to make the transfers “Really Sukuna, youd let me do that?” She asked as he nodded, prepping an empty space on his arm “Ill help you, make sure its deep enough but i trust you, you did a good job with the smaller ones on yourself. Youre good sweetheart im here “ And thats what he says the whole time she tattoos him, her lines were straight but she felt like her red names were lacking. Tracing them again the darken, showing up beautifully as she focused, holding his skin apart as she smiled at her work, wiping the access ink and covering it in ointment like he did earlier “I did it!” She jumped happily as he gave a satisfied grin, looking at her energetic girlfriend. ‘I love her’ he thought to himself as he thought of what hed do for her in the coming weeks for the day filled of love

On valentines day [ ] was at home, talking to Nobara as she heard a knock on her door. Telling the girl she'd call back, [ ] started at the door and opened it, seeing a giant bouquet of flowers as she took them nicely from the delivery boy “Uhhh miss [ ] correct? The sender also wanted you to have this” The boy fumbled with a note, handing it to the girl as she thanked him , watching him leave as she let out a happy squeal, reading it.

‘Dollface, I hope you're ready for tonight, I have a lot in store for us tonight. How about you wear that cute little black dress you got last time we went to the mall hm? I'll be over at four-SKR”

Giggling at his note she looked at the time, noting it was 2:00, she went to the back, starting to get dressed as she was excited to see what her boyfriend had planned for them. She took the time to curl her hair, setting them as she worked on her makeup. After taking the time she saw it was around 3:45. She smiled as she got a text from him, saying he was on his way. As she happily ran around her apartment , trying to get rid of the jitters she had for the night planned with her boyfriend. Soon she heard a knock on the door. Skipping to the dor she opened it to her tall boyfriend leaning against the frame, looking down at his girlfriend “Hi darling” Sukuna said as she stood on her toes , giving him a peck against his lips as she giggled “Hi” She responded as he wrapped his arms around her waist , kissing the crook of her neck. “Missed you..” He whispered as she hummed, rocking with him as they stumbled into her living room, Sukuna shutting her door behind him as he picked her up. Laughing , [ ] held onto him, looking down to her well dressed partner. He was in a black vest, adorned with red decals and black pants. Despite him wearing nicer clothes it had the same grudge feel to it, ringed fingers and pierced ears filled with glistening metals very promedent in his attire. As she gave him a glance over from being held in his arms he rose a brow and placed her down, giving her an uncharacteristic shy look “Do i look alright?....tried something new since ill be taking you out” He asked as she kissed his cheek, giving him a content smile “I love it. You still have that edge I fell in love with laced through and through” [ ] said as Sukuna felt his heart jump, a warmth creeping up his neck and face as he kissed her face, taking her hand “Well then...i'm very thankful with a woman like you in my life...thank you [ ]..you ready to go?” Sukuna softly asked as he outstretched a hand to her, making [ ] playfully laugh. Taking her ringed at tattooed lovers hand the duo set off, starting their first Valentines Day together.

Once night rolled around most had been finished [ ] and Sukuna found themselves on a hilltop, overlooking a city as they ate a snack basket that Sukuna prepared. Not only was he a tattooist but he could cook, and cook very well. “If I didn't have the urge to tattoo every square inch of my body with art maybe i'd be a cook” He laughed as she constantly complimented his cooking, laying her head on his shoulders. “This is wonderful Sukuna..ive really enjoyed today” [ ] said as he gave her a look before peering back at the city “I know how much you hated today so...I wanted to do something for you to love it” Sukuna said as she moved up, looking in his warm eyes as he reached out of his pocket, his phone showing their first accidental mirror picture they took together evident as his lockscreen. As he pulled the next thing to it, a shiny ring filed with her birthstone “This is for you, a promise to you” Tilting her head she took the beautiful ring and placed it on her finger, watching it glisten in the moonlight “A promise for what?” she asked “Ill never leave you, and one day...maybe...we could make that promise permanent” He said as he took her hand in his , pulling her in his lap as he sealed that promise with a kiss.

[yesimwriting]

Anastasia (prologue)

A/n ive been talking about my Anastasia x SOC story for awhile and im finally ready to post the prequel,, ive also been working on some requests and thinking about my next multi-part fic (ive made some posts about it lol)

things to know before reading: i tend to like to make up my own countries when writing these type of politically/plot driven fics that revolve around a royal family bc i think it makes it not only easier to write but less confusing bc it takes out the issue of potentially conflicting with canon, so i made up the country ‘Anastasia’ is from,, this also follows the musical Anastasia a little more bc i feel like that version of the story is more mature and easier to write for SOC (the only difference is that not everyone is happy that Anastasia is alive and someone tries to kill her bc they hate the royal family)

Series Summary: y/n makes an unconventional deal with Kaz to save the life of her best friend. No one’s ever made a deal with the infamous Dirtyhands that resulted in them shedding the title of orphan from a revolution-torn country that can’t remember her life before the orphanage and taking on the title of Princess Anastasia. As time progresses, things are made more complicated as y/n has to deal with royals, revolutionaries, a grisha general who has a lot to gain from an alliance with a princess that doesn’t know what she’s doing, and potential feelings for a conflicted Kaz Brekker that has more to do with Anastasia’s disappearance than he’s ever admitted. 

--

The world seems to be made up impossible things. Each day, people defy odds, strangers fall in love, the universe expands, and the Saints watch it all. I am not the kind of person to sneer at a miracle, to try to explain it away instead of acknowledging it for what it is. 

But what this stranger is proposing is laughable. 

I lean more into the chair, doing all I can to get away from the desk that he sits at. A nervous kind of giggle threatens to escape me, a laugh at the expense of the foolishness of the situation. If his demeanor was any less brooding, I would have already laughed at the irony. Kaz Brekker, the Dirtyhands, creating a ploy so colored by the fairytale notions of dreamers.

The longer I go without reacting, the worse this situation becomes. I haven’t seen Verne since Brekker and his people separated us. I can see the world of torment my eldest friend must be experiencing at this very moment while I sit at this desk. 

“Me?” I’m the most ridiculous part of his plan. He said the only reason me and my partner are still alive is because I fit the general description of the kind of person he needs, and if I’m blackmailed into it he won’t need to waste kruge paying me. “A princess?” 

He blinks, as uninterested and stoic as he’s been since he first ordered me into his office. “A pretend one,” his correction feels like a slight, “a surrogate one.” 

My eyebrows furrow together. “But what--I know the odds of the real Anastasia coming back are beyond slim, but if we’re caught in a lie the Dowager Duchess of Avila will have all of us killed. She may be in Ravka now, and her title nothing more than decorative due to the revolution, but she still has people loyal to her.” 

“Anastasia can’t come back.” The graveness of his voice is so certain a part of me has to wonder if he could have anything to do with her death. I dismiss the thought almost immediately, I don’t know his exact age, but he doesn’t look much older than me. He couldn’t have been more than two or three years older than Anastasia when she died, and she was a child at the time. “No one remains missing that long unless they’re dead.” 

I awkwardly scratch the back of my wrist, “You’re the expert here.” No--I did not just say that out loud. “Sorry--I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Not that thinking it makes it any better, but at least then you wouldn’t know and I’d seem like less of an idiot and I wouldn’t be talking about it right now, and just rambling at a really inconvenient time for me to just...” I cringe slightly, opting to stare at his desk instead of meeting his judgmental gaze. “Sorry, again. Normally Verne is here, and he just kicks me in the shin or something to shut me up.” 

“If you’d like to see what apparently is your only source of impulse control alive and in decent enough condition to kick anything ever again, you’ll agree to what I’m proposing.” 

I straighten my posture slightly, nerves and guilt twisting in my stomach. “I’m going to be as transparent as physically possible.” The warning is for both of us, the urge to hide all my weaknesses bubbling in my chest. “Mr. Brekker.” That’s awkward--what am I supposed to call him? “I’m a university student that’s only in Ketterdam because of an academic scholarship. I’m from somewhere average--I’m not from a place nice enough to give me the manners I’d need to pass as a girl who spent her fundamental years growing up in luxury and I’m not from a place grimy enough to make me a quick enough liar to make up for what I don’t know.” I inhale slowly, ignoring the sting of the flaws I laid out for a cruel stranger. “I’m not particularly graceful or sly or talented in any field that someone like you would value. The closest thing I have to talent involves things that can be tracked on paper. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, I was just doing a friend a favor.” 

“You claim that you’re not a decent liar or a thief and yet your closest friend is one who believed himself talented enough to challenge me?” 

I resist the urge to shrink back into my seat. “This is Ketterdam, you try finding someone that doesn’t dabble in crime and ambition.” He does’t reply to my retort, which I think means I won. “Cards on the table, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save Verne, but you don’t want me for something like this.” 

He pauses, jaw locked and eyes too stony for me to interpret. “Every flaw you just pointed out, every reason you think makes you unfit for this job, is exactly the reason I’m offering you this.” I keep a thousand questions to myself as I wait for him to continue. “Those used to lying lack the warmth that will be needed to sell this. The Dowager Duchess is a grandmother first when it comes to Anastasia, that’s why she’s offering so much gold. She, and the rest of the royals that desire to know what happened to Anastasia, want to believe the story I’m telling. If you present yourself as someone real and warm and you understand table manners enough to not disturb the serene picture they want, they’ll squint at ugly details until they disappear.” 

Wow. I know that he’s intelligent, but what he’s constructing is so much more bullet proof than I thought it’d be. “I’ll admit you’ve constructed an airtight narrative.” 

I know my approval means nothing to him, but it’s the most agreeable I’m willing to be. “A narrative the background you told me of fits perfectly.” I shouldn’t have answered all those questions he asked me earlier so honestly. “A child born in Avila who was sent to a Kerch orphanage due to a war-relief effort during the revolution. A faceless orphan who was found during the height of the revolution with no memory of anything before the morning she woke up in a hospital cot.” 

I say nothing. My skin burns in protest of someone knowing so much about me. He must take my silence as a sign of me teetering the line away from what he wants, because he then says, “your friend is fortunate, if things aligned a little less perfectly he’d be dead already.” 

Dead already. The words elate my heart in a way that pinches. He’s still alive. Verne is alive. “If I agree, you let me see him and then you let him go.” 

“If you need a contract to believe me, I can have that arranged.” The words have an almost mocking edge. I guess it’d be a little ridiculous to get an official contract drawn up for something so small. “If you at any point change your mind, I’ll do the same.” 

The threat is clear. I back out and Verne pays for it in blood. Verne’s safety is once again in my hand. This situation is much more precarious than Kaz Brekker wants it to seem. “You need me to do something that will literally last the rest of my life. Tiaras aren’t something you can slip in and out of.” 

“Yes, I’m forcing you to give up a life in the slums for a palace for your friend’s life. This must be a difficult choice for you.” 

I look down to avoid rolling my eyes. “It’s still permanent, and it’s large because at any point I could reveal the truth and take you down with me.” 

“Remember who you speak to.” His voice has turned to pure darkness. 

Don’t wince. Don’t wince. Don’t wince. “All I’m saying is that you’ve offered Verne’s life to buy my cooperation, but you have yet to mention the cost of my silence.”

His expression is sharp enough to draw blood. “The Dowager Duchess is old and sick, wait at most two years and you’ll have more gold than you could ever spend. The revolution took that family’s power, not the wealth the Duchess took with her to Ravka the night of the massacre.” 

I shift awkwardly. “I’m not trying to get kruge from you for me.” I fold my hands neatly on my lap to avoid fidgeting. “Verne--he’s beyond desperate for kruge, that’s why he risked angering you.” The urge to shy away threatens to break my resolve. I think of all the times Verne has saved me. “Let him keep what he tried to take.” The request is awkward from my lips. I’m asking for more when I should should be grateful any type of mercy came from him. Any type of offer. “Half. Let him keep half.” 

He’s silent for a long moment, weighing the implications of loss. “You’re already entitled enough to pass for royalty.” I don’t let myself shrink. “Deal, but not because you threatened me--try that again and you’ll find yourself wishing you had never left the orphanage you came from.” The relief is practically crushing. Verne is going to be okay. He’s going to live and my resistance earned him enough kruge to have a week or two without worry as he plans what he’ll do in my absence. “You better be as good a study as you made yourself seem to be.” 

I don’t understand the second threat. “Studying?” 

“You didn’t think you could wander into the Dowager Duchess’s home, use the excuse of amnesia to explain why you don’t even know your own mother’s name, and expect them to think you more than an Avilan orphan with a desire for wealth.” 

“I actually don’t know my own mother’s name because of amnesia.” 

He’s in no mood to be contradicted, glowering sharply, “not anymore, anything that doesn’t fit the narrative I’m constructing is no longer true.” He straightens slightly as he begins to pace away from me. “You’ll have five minutes with your friend and then we’ll see where your table manners are at. I know someone who knows enough to correct you.” 

I try to picture where someone like him would meet someone that knows about etiquette. My mind provides nothing useful, but it doesn’t matter--I’ve agreed. It can’t be undone, not without having the blood of my dearest friend on my hands. 

[bubsdolan]

are requests open? if so, could you write some major angst? like maybe gray is in a new relationship with a girl and he thinks she is just using him and yells at her and makes her cry?🥺

“babe! have you seen my credit card? ive looked everywhere for it, swear i left it on the bedside table.”

you heard grayson mumble the last part to himself. you were sat at the kitchen island, finishing up some last minute college work before yourself and grayson were headed out for a date night. with how busy graysons work schedule was and the amount of assignments you had deadlines to complete, you both made it a number one priority to have a date night once a week. thursdays were normally your chosen day.

“try the pod room!” you call back. submitting your essay before huffing out of relief and closing the laptop down. grayson had brought you a laptop early on into your relationship. you refused and even offered to pay him back, but his excuse was that he knew first hand how hard schooling online could be and he “wanted to make it easier for my girl to graduate.” in all honesty grayson loved treating you. wether it be to dinner, a laptop to help ease the stress of your degree or even a bunch of flowers he saw that reminded him of you. he was whipping his card out in an instant, no amount of money would be enough for his girl. 

however, in a second it’s like that all changed and your world flipped 360. you were on your way to help grayson look for his misplaced card when you bumped rather harsly into his broad chest, catching you off guard as you stumble back slightly. normally grayson is quick to reach out and catch you, but instead he was fixed in his spot. a cold hard stare being thrown in your direction as he held up his credit card and your purse in each hand.

“oh! you found it.”

“hmm, i did. care to explain why it was in your purse?” graysons tone was unlike one you had heard before. it was sharp, cold and held a venomous undertone to it. scaring you slightly as you step away timidly from his body and hard glare.

you look down at your feer as you shift them uncomfortably, not knowing what grayson was implying untill you heard him scoff and throw your purse on the sofa. watching as it bounced off and hit the floor with a thump.

“you must have put it in there when we went to get monty’s last night?” you question, almost uncertain in your reponse, but knowing that was the only reasonable explanation to it. a midnight feast always ended up with the two of you eating your body weight in vegan burgers and shakes. just basking in your own little sanctuary made perfect for the pair of you. as always, no matter how many times you try to argue, grayson always pays. insisting that chivalry is far from dead. 

“how could i have been so blind.” he shoves his way past you. his shoulder connecting with yours as he does so, one again sending you staggering back and holding onto the freshly decorated wall to steady yourself. you stare at him in completely shock. your mouth agape as you try to desperately hold back the tears, not wanting to show him any weakness that he could prey on.

“excuse me?”

“you’re a gold digger.” grayson answers like it was the most obvious thing in the world. unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt as he makes himself comfortable on a kitchen stall. your plans for a nice romantic evening where thrown out the window. instead it turned into a night of regret and trauma by his uncharacteristic actions.

“im a what?” you hiss through gritted teeth. tearing gathering in your eyes as you were taken aback by his depreciating words. it was almost as if the man in front of you, that you’ve grown to love and become so emotionally attached to, was a completely different human. you didn’t recognise this grayson - this certainly was not your grayson.

“want me to spell it out for you, y/n? you’re using me for my money. plain and simple. you can’t handle the fact i earn more money than you, im more successful than you, that i can afford the luxuries in life that you can’t. you’re not in love with me, you’re in love with my money.”

grayson knew the words he was saying was false. everything he said was a lie, yet he couldn’t stop them from leaving his lips. he didn’t have a excuse as to why he said all those hurtful, degrading comments- yet they kept coming. each word a knife to your heart, with an twist for added pain. grayson knew he royally fucked up the second he heard those heartbreaking sobs escape your lips. wanting nothing more then to reach out and hold you. to shush your cries and tell you how much he loves you.

he hated seeing you in any pain, especially knowing he’s the reason behind it. if he could tske it all back, he would- but he was to far gone at this point.

your vision blurred as you failed to control the tears from spilling any longer. all the pain and newfound hatred you felt for the man you thought was your endgame, showed in your expressions, movements and psychical pain.

“this-“ you hiss, walking up to grayson as you reach for his credit card. holding it between your fingers as you rummage around the kitchen draws for some scissors. knowing first hand that actions speak louder than words. you hold the meaningless plastic up to his face, making sure he was souly focused on you as you cut up his earning right in front of his broken, distort eyes.

“-means nothing to me. money, means nothing to me. i didnt even know who you were before we met! jesus chirst, grayson. ive done nothing but love you unconditionally, worship and praise you and never once made you doubt how true and real my feelings for you were, ARE. yet tonight- it’s obviously you made yours crystal clear.”

throwing what was left of his card at him, the cut up jaggered pieces of plastic hitting him in the chest and cluttering lifelessly to the floor- a metaphor of what just happened to his heart- as you say your final piece before slamming the door and leaving grayson dolan to wallow in his own guilt and shame. knowing he just fucked up the best thing that ever happened, no amount of money in the world held the same value as the love you shared- used to share? he wasn’t sure anymore.

“have a nice life, dolan. i guess money really can’t buy you happiness huh? jerk.”

{part II}

[dclsbaby]

mykonos-crossed lovers (part i) 🦋

🎶 playlist for part i

prologue

part ii

part iii

part iv

Summary: When you drunkenly book a girls trip to a tropical Greek island to help mend your broken heart, you would never for a second think it will take you exactly to where he is. Him. A tale of the right person at the wrong time, an overused cliché made into plots of movies you never thought would live through in your reality. Two people, still madly in love with each other, hearts still broken, suppressed by the alcohol and distractions consumed on this trip. Will they let their egos get in the way, protect what’s left of their already broken hearts, or will let their hearts speak?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: angst?

Author’s Note: hi everyone, thank you so so much for the responses to the prologue! I am so overwhelmed and did not expect to receive so much kindness it makes me wanna cry hahaha 🥺 thank you a thousand times over! and if this is your first time getting to know the fic, I highly suggest you read the prologue before diving into part 1! This chapter is sort of a filler chapter (I know it has 2.6k words lol), it shows how (y/n) have been doing since the break up & how the trip came about, I hope it’ll make sense once you read it 🤍 thanks for reading x

Gif:

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It’s been months since you last spoke to him. Him. The thought of him still hurts. The idea of him existing without you, hurts. As much as you try to fight it, you still remember him like the back of your hand. You could draw on paper the contours of his face by memory, by instinct, like remembering your way home. He was a love you have never experienced before. Something about his magnetism seemed impossible to resist.

You and Dominic broke up nearly half a year ago. Your hopes of an amicable breakup were destroyed by him. His confusion, his anger, his frustration made it impossible for you two to stay friends. He couldn’t even begin to imagine being just a friend to you when his entire heart belongs to you. He called you selfish for leaving, he called you stubborn for having your mind made up without letting him put up a fight when he was ready to battle anyone, even you, to save your relationship.

The first few months were difficult, but the first few weeks were excruciating. You barely ate, as the numbing in the pit of your stomach constantly made you nauseous that your body couldn’t digest anything you ate. You couldn’t bring yourself to shower and get dressed, and spent days laying in bed, wallowing in sadness. Overtime, you just learn to live with the pain.

Since then, you’ve had good days, and slowly but surely stopped faking smiles and replaced them with genuine ones. But your bad days felt like hell, with your mind often teasing you with memories of him that you’ve suppressed enough to compartmentalise, then it comes back to you all at once, and consumes your entire soul. The pain is suffocating, like being crush by tidal waves, leaving you no time to run for shore, the waters dragging you, pulling you in many directions. All you could do was be still, stay paralysed, and pray that it goes away. That’s what remembering him felt like.

Then on other days, you often wonder how you were able to manage all this, with the pain still fresh whenever you think about it, but I guess we’re all guilty of pushing our feelings to the side and pretending that everything’s alright, when it’s the opposite. You’re still alive, despite it all. But you want to live, not just survive.

The truth is, you did not leave because you fell out of love. In fact, you were too in love—it’s a crime. He was your entire life. Days were spent waiting for him to come home from training and matches. Missing him during away games. Your entire happiness depended on him, and that terrified you. You weren’t happy with yourself either, and expected more out of your life. The burden of having a prosperous career, a stable income, a life for yourself that you loved, becoming too heavy to bear. You had all these dreams and goals set for yourself that you never got to actualise so you could be by his side. Your love for him was insurmountable, that you couldn’t accommodate anything for yourself. No matter how hard you tried, you will always put him first. It was natural. Even though he never asked for all your attention, you couldn't simply choose between yourself or him, because you would always choose him. Over and over.

So you did what you had to do, break your own heart, and his, to love yourself.

Since your breakup, you finally moved out of your friend’s place and got yourself a nice two-bedroom flat at the city centre with a stunning view of the city. You landed yourself a job as a junior editor for British Vogue that demands commuting to London several days a week. As you thrive in difficult situations, the breakup forced you to submerge yourself in work, mainly to avoid the pain, but it propelled you to get to where you are.

Trying to get over someone who is in the public eye was a different battle. It seemed as though everywhere you went, he’s there. You see him on billboards, TV screens, his face painted on murals, quickly becoming a tourist site. Occasionally, you would watch his games out of habit, and listen to the prideful Evertonian crowd chant his name. You witnessed his first England senior team debut, and tuned in to England v. Wales on the TV for old time’s sake. You watched him score his first senior England goal behind a screen. Your eyes welled at sight of him living his dream, poaching the ball into the net, scoring the first goal of the game, making his country and family proud. You feel the rush of adrenaline he felt as he ran to his teammates and celebrated. You can’t help but share this sense of pride, as you’ve watched firsthand how hard he has worked to get to where he is.

But on days where he isn’t on your mind, you do not want to be reminded of him. It’s difficult to cope when you encounter pieces of him that takes you back to the worst day of your life, and his.

Like last night, for instance. You had been scrolling on your social media when it was brought to your attention that a magazine had published an issue with your ex on the front cover, spotted on a night out with a blonde you don’t personally know but you could’ve sworn you’ve seen before. Perhaps another one of those so-called “influencers”, you thought to yourself. You know that you have no right to feel jealous or upset, as you broke up with him and this was bound to happen, but selfishly, a part of you had hoped that he wouldn’t find anyone else, or at least not before you did. You’re frustrated at yourself for letting him have this effect on you even months after your break up.

Succumbing to your bad habits, you give in to your impulses and pop open a bottle of red wine to calm your growing anxiety. Two glasses of wine, a takeout, and a season of Gossip Girl later, you find yourself slightly drunk, nerves calmed, and a little drowsy so you quickly change into your satin pyjamas and tuck yourself in bed.

You decide to turn on the TV for some background noise and quickly close your eyes. By some twist of fate, you hear a painfully familiar voice giving his thoughts at the end of a game he’s won. The sheer volume of his voice on the TV causes a sharp pain in your chest as you scramble to reach for your remote in the dark, with your eyes half opened. and change it to anything but a sports channel. That’s it, you thought to yourself. I need to get the fuck away.

Still drunk and not entirely aware of what you’re doing, you reach for your laptop on the nightstand. The brightness made your eyes squint a little bit, but you managed to type out a link and open a travel booking site, and scroll through different pictures of tropical islands you’re longing to get to. Anywhere but here, you thought. You selected options that you thought looked the blue-est, the most expensive, a party town, and had the most five star restaurants.

By the end of it you have booked a return flight to Mykonos for 5 people where you will be staying at a grand, luxurious 5-bedroom villa located at the party central of the island. You couldn’t be bothered to check how much it cost you. All sense of ration gets thrown out the window when you mix heartbreak with alcohol. When you told your friends of what you had just done, it was safe to say that they were surprised but absolutely ecstatic that you have booked a much needed getaway with the girls. With a three-day notice, you all quickly scramble through your closet and go on an online shopping spree to pick out your outfits for the holiday.

***

Days later, you find yourself landing on Mykonos island on a sunny afternoon.

“I can’t believe you’ve managed to pull all this off within days,” your friend says as you all walk through the pebbled entry way of your villa, and open the door. “Holy fucking shit,” another friend says in awe of the sight. The villa was filled with white interior, bright lights, wooden tables that give off beach vibes, and an infinity pool where you could swim as you watch the sunset, with a view of the blue sea. With 5 bedrooms to choose from, your friends collectively decided that you should take the master that had direct access to the pool, which you happily accepted but it wouldn’t matter anyway, as you’ll all probably stay in one room.

Once you’ve unpacked, you pull out your white cardigan and make your way out the terrace to catch a view of the sunset and have a moment by yourself. You take a deep breath of the fresh air with a hint of sea breeze as you try to take in the stunning view of the island. You are filled with gratitude as you bear witness to something so beautiful as you watch the sun sink into the blue Aegean Sea. Despite the peacefulness exuded by the view, your heart can’t help but feel Dom. You remember when he had brought up wanting to spend this exact summer in Mykonos with you, but life had other plans.

***flashback***

Dom was laying in bed with his laptop screen on his chest, an arm to support his head as he scrolled through the travel booking site. He had been looking through different options, but he has his mind set on a lovely town in Greece, Dubai’s overrated after all, he thought.

“Me, you, blue skies, tanned skin, bike rides around town, what do you think love?” asked Dom. “Where’s this?” you ask, moving closer to him as he shows you his laptop screen. “Mykonos. It’s not too far away, I’ll have enough time to rest before pre-season starts,” he replies. “That sounds like a plan,” you smile at him. “But we’ll book it closer to the summer, yeah? In case anything comes up,” you said as you plant a kiss on his cheek. He nods as he bookmarks the site and drifts off to sleep with you shortly after.

Unbeknownst to you, later that night he quietly opened his laptop and quickly booked the trip for you two as a surprise. Anything that will come in the way will just have to be compromised. He was adamant to make sure he gives you the best summer of your life, it is what you deserve after all, he thought.

***

You had forgotten about your conversation with Dom until you stood on the island. Your thoughts were interrupted by your friend’s footsteps. “Hey, you okay babe? You’ve been out here for a while,” she asks with concerned eyes. “I’m alright,” you said. “Or I will be,” you add, giving your friend a forced smile. Your friend wraps her arm around your shoulders as you two make it back inside to have an early and quiet night with the girls, exhausted from all the travel.

***

The next day you woke up a little late, with only several hours to tan before having to get ready for your dinner reservation at one of Mykonos’s famous restaurants that looks over the sea. A little frustrated at yourself for sleeping in, you went to the bathroom to wash your face, put on some light makeup, and change into your swimwear.

You join your friends who are sprawled on the sunbeds. “So, where is this place again?” you asked your friend who booked the dinner. “A restaurant by the sea located at party central babe. Everybody, I mean everybody goes here. They’ve got the best food and music,” she replies. “Think of Mamma Mia 1,” another friend chimes in. Your eyes widen at the imagery. “Better have some great alcohol too, I’m desperate for some,” you laugh. “That’s my girl,” your friend says.

***

By the late afternoon you and the girls are getting ready for dinner. Makeup bags and its contents sprawled on the floor, you had to tiptoe around makeup products and brushes, careful not to step on them. After long deliberation, you decided to dress up in co-ord that hugs your figure and fits you like a glove, paired with your favourite heels, settling for an elegant yet fun look. You decide to keep your hair down and put on some natural makeup to balance out the bold colour. After about 30 minutes of taking pictures of each other and some group photos, you finally made it out the door.

The location was spectacular. The ambience was complemented with bright lights to lighten the dim Mykonos sky that has turned a shade of dark blue, almost purple. The food was divine, a little overpriced for your liking, but it was worth it. The restaurant turns into a nightclub close to midnight, and you and your girls were eager to start your first round of drinks. Fruity drinks were passed around, made with fruits freshly picked from the gardens. Watermelon margarita was your drink of choice, partly sweet, partly sour, and just enough tequila as your first drink of the trip.

The restaurant was packed, you could’ve sworn you had seen a star of a Spanish series you’ve just finished watching on Netflix. The guests were well dressed, many had bravely eccentric taste, mixing patterns and sparkly jewellery, paired with funky footwear to add some flair. In Mykonos, you will not encounter the same judgment as you would walking down the streets back home.

Your friends stood up to dance the second the alcohol kicked in. You took your time, savouring your drink, wanting the night to last. You smile at the sight of your happy friends, so full of life, not giving a single care in the world. As you’re sitting there, observing people, you suddenly feel your chest get heavy. It’s hard to put into words what this feeling is like, but it pushes you to shut down in social settings, overwhelmed by strangers and loud music that makes your ears ring. It is a feeling of unexplained anxiety, where you need a second to correct your breathing, and calm yourself down. Not now, you thought, not here. You often feel these random bouts of emptiness since you left Dom. You try to push the discomfort away, and think of anything else but him. You stood up and walked to the edge of the restaurant by the white border wall to get some fresh air, and take in the view of calm waves under the night sky to collect some peace of mind.

You place your elbows on top of the border, and rest your head on the palms of your hands. A bystander would think that you’re a scene from a movie, a damsel in distress, longing for her love interest. But this was no movie, no fairytale, no knight in shining armour to protect you, no lover to sweep you off your feet.

Or so you thought.

Your focus on the sounds of splashing waves was interrupted by familiar footsteps, getting louder and louder as it creeps its way closer to you. The scent of the sea began to mix with an all too familiar scent of tobacco vanilla. Only one person came to mind. It can’t be, you thought.

“(Y/N)?,” his voice breaks.

It’s him.

[statticscribbles]

Lifeboat

Summary: Bucky/Reader; Post CW you’re on the raft after having been captured with the rest of team Cap, you’re , avoiding using your power unless absolutely necessary

TW: Torture, discussion of miscarriage

You can hear Wanda humming under her breath again and you let your powers trickle out telling the guards to come to you. You can hear their boots, moving closer, away from Wanda. Clint sneers as they pass, you can hear the anger in his laugh. The guards stand awkwardly at your door unsure what led them to your cell. They shuffle back and forth peering in and find you sitting curled against your bed; head between your legs trying to stop the nausea rolling through you again. One laughs, harsh and grating and the other kicks the door startling you and causing you to shift and whimper as you make it to the steel bowl they call your toilet.

You can hear Clint and Sam’s doors unlock, their daily interrogation starting. They cast a look at you and you sigh, both are free of shock collars, and Clint’s black eye is almost healed. Sam looks thinner, sick and you can tell his lip is scabbed over, you wonder how many times he bit back screams and angry comments. The guards leave you alone for the next two hours, as they bring Clint and Sam back you can hear Scott shouting something and you feel your powers surge as one of the guards pulls a taser. The guard drops the taser and the rest of them grumble and one snatches it up handing it back to him.

“Come on, just zap him.” You can tell the guard that you’re manipulating is gaining his control back; he turns sneering at you and pulling his baton out, lighting it up.

You hiss as your head starts to pound; your powers are draining you faster these days. Being kept on a constantly fluctuating equilibrium has your head spinning; the lack of food is also a worry. You’re trying to ease off using them, you know the shock collar registers how intense your powers are, and you wonder why no one’s shocked you. Ross starts a walk through and you know why when he stops at your door and nods. You can feel the agents dragging you out and you’re fighting against your powers. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. Don’t fight back. The guards throw you against the ground and you stagger up as best you can. The scrubs you’re wearing still allow for you to move your arms but it doesn’t help much when you see the guard you controlled leering over you. The baton flickers as he turns the electricity off.

“Wouldn’t want to hurt you too badly, you still gotta tell us where the Captain took Barnes, Y/N.” You can hear Scott laughing, Clint joins him and you can vaguely see Wanda’s lip quirk up.

“Like hell she’d tell you where either of them are.” Ross stalks over to you, smirking darkly. You tense backing yourself up so you’re in the middle of the room. You can feel the cool air from the sea. The smell of it makes you feel sick and you wince as you vomit again. Ross’s eyebrows rise before his face darkens.

“Oh.” You panic, your powers forcing him backwards as he watches you in understanding. You feel a low jolt from the collar that stops your powers; too tired to fight back you curl around yourself and wait for more punishment.

“Solitary sir?” You can hear someone’s boots stomping next to you and you curl your hands around your stomach and whimper. Your hair is grasped forcing your face up so you’re staring at Ross again.

“I have a much better idea.” You can see he holds out his hand and he flicks the dial up on the remote but not pressing the alert to send the shock for you.

You can feel your hand breaking as his boot slams into your stomach as you try to keep your arms locked around it. The other guards stand awkwardly back as Ross gives you another kick before dropping you back to the ground. You whimper and try to twist away from him. But as he steps back the other guards take his place. You can feel the first three kicks in your hands but after that they drop, your body screaming at you to use your powers. You squeeze your eyes and let go, letting your powers force the guards back to where Ross stands. They make it halfway towards him before the shocks rocking through your body cut your powers off. The guards practically run back, returning to their assault sneering. They pause to catch their breath and Ross shocks you as they move away. He laughs as he steps forward and you groan in pain as two of the guards bring you back to your cell. They leave you on the floor and you lay there for a moment trying to figure out how injured you are. You can feel your hand healing, and you wince as you look at the bruising on your face in the mirror they’ve given you.

You grimace lifting your shirt and see dark bruises against your stomach. You touch it softly, fingers ghosting over a barely there bump before you stretch slowly and lay down on your bed as the lights flicker. You curl up wrapping your hands around your stomach as you drift off.

You dream of Bucky, you’re back in the house you shared for a moment before it morphs into something in between your house and the avengers compound. You’re warm and safe wrapped in his arms as he runs his fingers through your hair kissing you softly. You smile teary eyed when he pulls away and he swipes his fingers against the tears smiling back at you. He kisses you again wrapping his hand around you pulling you closer to him. You press your forehead to his and smile again.

“We’re going to be a family, I love you so much.” He nods smiling again and you pause expecting him to say it back. Instead you catch the shimmer of red around the room.

“Wanda?” Your breath hitches as the dream fades and you wake in the dark, cold and alone. You can hear footsteps, rapid and a group. You’re not sure if it’s a good idea to sit up, so you lie on your side hand drifting back to your bruised stomach. The door is silent when it opens and you’re grabbed and can see a needle plunger moving down as they inject something into the IV port on your hand. They let you go and you sway, confused. You take a few stumbling steps as the sedative takes effect rending your powers just beyond your reach. You can see Ross’s teeth gleam in the dark. You can hear muffled screams and shouts and your feet stumble over each other as the other guards drag you out.

Your head throbs and you try to lift it, unsuccessfully as it lawls against your shoulder. You can see Wanda screaming, the sound and her movement startles you but the fear that crawls up your spine is why no one’s punishing her.

“Sir, the med bay is prepped, are you sure this is safe, what if her powers effect- yes sir.” You’re dozing on and off as they place you in a chair. The straps around your arms make you jump but the panic kicks in when you see something in the sides of your vision circle around your head.

“Just enough so she passes out. Not enough to damage anything.” Your vision goes dark before the shocks finish making their way through your body.

You wake back in your cell groggy and can hear everyone stirring as you sit up and vomit on the floor.

“Fucking hell. You okay Y/N”

“What did they do?” Your voice is surprisingly steady after weeks of disuse.

“We don’t know they said they were taking you to an interrogation. We were hoping you could tell us what happened..”

“They brought me to the medical bay, there was a chair, they shocked me with it.” You sit back against your bed sighing trying to piece together what you remember through the pain. You had woken up suddenly, you remember your arm burning and your head spinning but other than that you draw up empty darkness.

“Sorry.” You press your palm into your eyes rubbing them as you sniffle.

“They didn’t ask me anything, just shocked me, and cut my arm I think?” you look at your arms no bandages or new cuts have appeared but your IV appears to be a fresh one.

“They replaced my IV, I think that’s all they did.” You cringe when a guard walks by and wrinkles his nose at the sick on the floor. He mumbles into the radio on his shoulder and you see two more guards appear and pull you out. One hands you a paper cup and nods encouragingly.

“Take it.” He shoves the cup closer to your face and you wince, shaking your head.

“It’s to stop the nausea. Take it. Or I’ll make you.” His smile darkens when you throw the cup to the floor. He knocks your feet from under you and you land on your knees as he grabs you by the collar tugging it up, cutting your airflow off. You can hear Scott and Clint yelling but almost as soon as it happens it stops. One of the doctors they have on staff appears, injecting something into the IV. You watch as he refuses to meet your eyes.

“That wasn’t so bad, they’ve even finished cleaning your room.” The guard turns back to the doctor as you’re led away. You see Ross walking up and catch only a few words of their conversation.

“It –take — will it?”

“Not long—few hours– mess though, safer — monitor her.”

“No. Mutant’s breed mutants, they shouldn’t get safety.” Ross stares at you as he says this. The smile he had has dropped off and he turns away leaving you to your cell and your fear.

Scott’s led away for interrogation again and the guards ignore you. You try to pull at them with your powers when they take him. The guards turn slightly but the shock that pierces your concentration has them no more than hesitating when they bring him back to the interrogation room. You rub your throat slightly and let out a slight scream of annoyance.

“ Y/N you okay?”

“They’re shocking me again.”

“So that’s not surprising, you’ve been given a lot of leeway, I’m sure they’re tired of waiting for you to give up answers, so they’re trying to hurt you to get them. They’ll probably bring you for another ‘chat’ in a few days.” Sam tries to reassure you, but you can’t help the twinge of fear that runs through you.

“I- I think they weren’t shocking me for a different reason.” Your breath hitches, and you try not to panic as heat licks against your skin and a vice strangles your stomach with pain.

“Care to enlighten us then?” You stare at your hands as they tremble; you watch the way the IV jerks up and down as your hand shivers. You can see the edge of the tape peeling upwards from the sweat now pooling on your skin.

“I should have said something before, I should have told him before we got separated..” You look up to see one of the guard’s smug smiles. He taps your remote and shakes his head.

“It doesn’t, doesn’t matter now. It’s too late anyways.” You let the words tumble from your mouth against Sam’s protests. The guard nods, laughing as he hits the button to shock you. You can feel a scream tearing out of your mouth and you thrash as the shocks pass through you. You end up falling from your bed onto the floor as the shocks cause you to convulse. As they ease away you tremble, blood dripping from your nose and now from in between your legs. You try to stagger up but a low level shock makes your arms give out. You try to still yourself but the tremors wracking your body leave you unable to control your own limbs.

“Y/N?”

“Y/N? You okay? Talk to us, please..”

“Fine.” You croak out turning your face so you stop tasting blood for a moment. You take a shaky breath in and sigh.

“I’m okay just surprised me.” You try not to laugh at your own lie. You let the pain swallow you up. As your vision spots and black splatters creep in you decide that it might be safer to sleep through it.

“Can you at least let me set up the IV; she’s massively dehydrated and that’s just to start, I don’t even want to think about anything else, let’s just finish this then?” The doctor’s face swims towards you before pulling back and showing Ross sneering.

“She’ll be fine, her powers will heal her.” You just stare as his face moves away and the black retakes your vision.

You don’t remember waking up. The dryness in your mouth is almost a welcome reprieve from the vomit you usually spew, but it sends a bolt of fear to your heart and you can hear your breath stutter. You try to brush your hands against your stomach but find your scrubs have been replaced by a jacket with lengthy sleeves securing your hands across your chest. You know you now mimic Wanda’s position; you can feel the jolt from the collar. You look out and see one of the guards smirking.

“Ross gave us the all clear. Try your powers and see what happens.” Your head’s swimming and you get shocked for remaining silent. You can tell he’s turning the dial up again and you can feel your powers surge as the drugs clear from your system finally. The remote drops, his boot crushing it as he unlocks Sam, Clint and Scott’s cells. He’s shot in the head halfway to Wanda’s. They fire at your door, the bullets cracking the glass and the sound and movement enough to startle you to lose your hold on everyone.

“Solitary. Now.” Ross’s voice crackles over the speaker as one of the guards shoves you farther back into your cell, turning you to face the wall. He presses you as close as he can to the concrete and laughs. Your cell goes black and you can’t tell if you’ve squeezed your eyes shut or not. The light on your collar vanishes as well but a light shock lets you know it’s still active. They soundproof your cell. They skip your meals and let nothing enter your cell. You’re not sure how much time passes but suddenly the light on your collar turns on.

You squeal which unfolds into a scream as you’re shocked into silence as one of the men turn you back around, the blackness leaves your cell and they leave as well. They do not return for the rest of the day. None of the guards make their morning rounds and this causes a glimmer of hope. The lights dim and flicker well past dinner time and when you see a figure walking up you finally allow yourself to relax. Steve gets Sam out first Wanda and Clint are next and Sam helps Scott as Steve gets you out.

“Y/N, you okay?” You stare at him as he snaps the collar off your neck.

“Fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay good, I’m bringing you all with me, to a friend, he’ll keep us safe while we try to find out where it’s best for each of you to go.” Steve nods to everyone and you follow him to the jet. You curl in on yourself the minute you see a seat keeping your eyes down and refusing to look at anyone. You feel someone sit next to you and you try not to jerk away as an arm wraps around you. Your peek from behind your hair at Wanda and she offers you a sad smile and a puff of air as both of you cling to each other. You can feel her warmth prodding at your mind and you shake your head, shielding the rest of your face behind your hair. One of your hands drifts down to your stomach and you choke slightly when you feel a scar running across it. Wanda grimaces and you can see Sam through your curtain of hair looking worriedly at you.

“Y/N, you excited to see Bucky, Steve said he’ll be at the place we’re going to.” You cringe curling further into yourself.

You failed. You only saved yourself. You failed. You only saved yourself. You suck in a breath trying not to panic as Steve suggests everyone get some sleep. You’re not sure when you fell asleep but you start awake and end up falling from the seat smacking your face against the floor of the jet.

“Nightmares?” You sit up and watch Steve move over to Wanda, he tucks a loose strand of hair away from her face, and pulls the blanket that’s slipped down back over her. He checks Scott, Clint and Sam as well. Giving Clint an extra blanket and sitting on the seat close to you.

“I’m right here if you want to talk. I know it’s going to take time to undo all of what happened, but I want to make it right.” You furrow your brow.

“Not your fault, we knew what we were getting into..”

“You didn’t.” You think back to when you first met Steve, after Bucky had returned to you and explained how he was a fugitive, how he was a murderer and assassin, in turn you explained about your powers, how you’d sneak into his head and cut the nightmares off before they got too bad, how you made his brain patch the good memories first. You talk about betrayal as you run with him. You both come to terms with the lies, content to push them to the back for the moment.

You don’t tell him of the night you spent together, or the mornings you’d spent heaving your breakfast into the toilet. You decide to wait till everything has calmed down. At the airport you know you’re not going to go with them. You try to tell him but all that slips out is an ‘I love you’ before he’s gone and rubble is blocking him from you. You’re brought to the raft within the hour. You shake the fear from your head and look at Steve putting a smile up.

“I’m alright for now. Will I be able to see Bucky when we land, I have a lot to tell him.” Steve nods but you know something’s wrong with how he refuses to look in your eyes.

“Is Buck okay?”

“He’s better than he’s been, there’s people there helping him get rid of the codes, and help him be safe-“ Steve swallows rubbing his face with his hand.

“In order to do that though, he went back under, until they fix it, until he doesn’t have to be afraid.” You don’t care that your screams and sobs wake the rest. They pile around you content to hold you and keep you sheltered as best they can.

Support My Writing?

[jaskiersvalley]

HEY I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT YOUR FICLET ABOUT GERALT BEING ILLITERATE IS THE MOST PRECIOUS THING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. I had to put down my phone and whimper when he pulled out the card 🥺 can.. can i humbly request a pt. 2 in the future please? (also,, ive gone through the entirety of your blog too and its. so. good. while ive been chillin’ quarantinin’ reading your fics have been my very favourite thing to do!!) ♥️

Nonnie, you and @ohnomybreadsticks have both given me inspiration for more. It’s gone in a slightly different direction with the whole Wolf School in on the thing now. But, hopefully, you’ll enjoy this addition just as much. Best of luck with the quarantine! I’ll be posting stories fairly regularly for the foreseeable future which will hopefully keep you entertained and out of trouble!

The illiterate Geralt story can be found here.

Jaskier’s School of Self Care for Lost Wolves

It was a known fact that Jaskier loved too much and too freely. Sometimes, he even fell in love with those he hadn’t met but felt they needed love all the same. Which was how he ended up with emotions towards witchers he hadn’t met beyond Geralt occasionally letting a name slip. It wasn’t the same kind of love he held for Geralt, it wasn’t all consuming, he didn’t want to kiss the other witchers silly but it didn’t burn fiercely and involved a lot of throws and warm cuddles. Because, as Jaskier had helped Geralt work on his reading and writing, he realised something. None of the other witchers knew how to do that either. Which was how Jaskier ended up demanding he be allowed to go to Kaer Morhen with Geralt. He had a whole winter to remedy the mistakes their teachers had made. It wouldn’t magically make up for all the neglect but Jaskier would be damned if he didn’t try his best to slowly build scaffolding around and start the process of patching in the holes.

The journey back to the old keep was more hazardous than Jaskier had even dared imagine. It didn’t help that Geralt told him most witchers died on the path, either too naive and new on their way out or too tired or injured on the way back. That was utterly appalling and Jaskier was in half a mind to demand that a new path be devised to make sure all witchers could get home and get the care they needed. Even if Geralt insisted this was for the best, an injured witcher had no prospects after all. Rather than argue, Jaskier kept his mouth shut and began scheming.

There weren’t many witchers left, the school of the wolf was a dying breed but, along with Geralt, three other witchers returned and Jaskier was delighted. It seemed that the whole family was together again. Not that they acted like a family, more like a bunch of pissy cats trying to establish territories because they couldn’t figure out how to share and snuggle. That did disappoint Jaskier, he had a lot more work cut out for him than anticipated. Still, he could put the beginnings of his plan into play.

“What are you doing?” Lambert sounded so utterly offended when he came across Jaskier settled comfortably between Geralt’s legs, both of them stretched out on a fur in front of a fire. Jaskier was holding a book and Geralt was reading aloud in a low, rumbling voice.

“We’re enjoying a good story. Care to join us?”

Snarling, Lambert stalked out of the room and Jaskier shrugged. It was a start, even if it wasn’t an auspicious one. However, it set things into motion because not two days later, Eskel had approached Geralt in the kitchen, softly quizzing him on reading.

“I could teach you,” Jaskier volunteered as soon as he heard, deciding to ignore the wide eyed, almost sheepish look from Eskel.

That was how an hour was set aside each day where Jaskier sat with Eskel, leafing through well loved books that Geralt had used, sounding out words together. After the third time, they ended up with a secretive audience in the form of Lambert lurking just outside the door, listening in. In the end, Jaskier left a book in his usual hiding spot and waited for Lambert to come to him. It took longer than he had anticipated, Jaskier had been shooing Eskel out the room and hanging around to tidy up after their lessons for a good week before the book was thrown by his feet.

“Stop mocking me.” Lambert had his arms crossed defensively over his chest and was glaring in a way that would have sent bolts of fear through most people. Just as well that Jaskier wasn’t like most. He’d seen the posturing, the anger and lashing out in Geralt before, knew all too well what lay below it. With the greatest simplicity, he picked up the book and sat down, opening it and giving Lambert an expectant look. After a beat, the witcher sat down next to him.

That was three witchers on their way to literacy but something still bugged Jaskier. Thankfully, he didn’t have to say anything because Lambert took matters into his own hand. He had a book with him one breakfast, furiously trying to catch up with the other two and master ‘See Spot Run’ at record speed.

“Why did you never teach us to read?” he asked around a mouthful of eggs, greasy fingers leaving marks on the pages.

A silence descended on the table as eyes turned to Vesemir who, for the first time since they knew him, looked uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t needed,” he began. “A witcher can’t read a monster to death.”

Understanding dawned on Jaskier then and there. He put his fork aside and stood with an “oh you poor dear”. It was barely audible over Vesemir’s mumbled “I was just a fencing instructor.”

Walking around the table, he easily settled on Vesemir’s lap, ignoring all social conventions regarding touch. Looking up at the witcher, he smiled.

“It’s never too late to learn.”

Given the possessive nature of witchers, one would have expected Geralt to get jealous. However, he seemed content for Jaskier to do as he pleased, spending time with the other witchers. All too soon, all four of them were piled together on rugs and chairs around a fire and frowning over their respective books while Jaskier flitted between them, helping and encouraging where it was needed. It was obvious Lambert struggled the most, the letters dancing before his eyes and never quite settling which made him growl in frustration and his book often went flying across the room. Only once did it land in the fire.

“I’ve made a decision,” Jaskier announced during a quiet afternoon. “You’re all coming along wonderfully with reading and I have so much more to offer.”

Four witchers looked at him a little fearfully, wondering if they weren’t enough. They didn’t say anything as Jaskier walked out of the room but the sadness was palpable. Until Jaskier returned with his beloved lute.

“If anyone wants to learn any music, I’m happy to teach them.”

While reading was a chore for Lambert, he took to music like a duck to water when shown songs, able to replicate the chord sequences Jaskier showed him quite quickly. He had a special love of raunchy singing songs. The only sad thing was that there was only one lute or any kind of musical instrument in the whole of Kaer Morhen. Though Jaskier was more than happy to sing along to whatever tune Lambert was picking out. Soon, they had a whole repertoire of witcher drinking songs they would happily belt out while the others thumped the table in time with the beat.

By contrast, Eskel seemed content with the softer side of things. In fact, he had taken a real shine to sonnets and would often be found discussing them in depth with Jaskier. Occasionally, Geralt joined in but he didn’t find as much joy in dissecting whether the “sweet smell of faded summer” was in fact a statement about the passing of seasons or whether it was the soft lament of two lovers growing old.

“What are you doing?” Vesemir’s voice pulled Jaskier from his quiet introspection. It was early, the sun was barely poking out from behind the mountains but he was out in the courtyard with Geralt sat on a barrell and frowning into a book.

“Stretching,” Jaskier replied, sunnier than the weather. “I learned a series of movements to keep the body supple and the mind engaged. It helps me keep up with Geralt.”

The wink he sent Geralt’s way was enough to have him raising the book to hide his blush. While everybody knew what was going on between them, Geralt didn’t like to shamelessly advertise it. He was a private soul by nature.

“Come.” Jaskier beckoned Vesemir. “Let me show you.”

They worked through poses, Jaskier explaining a little about each of them. While they looked simple and easy, Vesemir was surprised to find that they gave the gentlest workout he had ever had. By the end, he was pleasantly tired but not in a way a training fight would have worn him out. It was, for want of a better word, rejuvenating. It had him as close to a smile as he usually got.

Over the course of the week, it went from Jaskier stretching in the courtyard while Geralt read to Jaskier and Vesemir. Until, silently, Eskel joined them one morning, standing next to Vesemir, a little nervous but a smile from Jaskier had him easing into the flow. The next morning, soft lute strums accompanied their exercises as Lambert sat opposite Geralt and his book, playing something gentle. The grateful look Jaskier shot him was enough to get him scowling, even if the music never stopped.

Spring was just around the corner. The witchers were all sat around the cleared dining room table with parchments in front of them, quills in hand. Eskel’s tongue was sticking out the corner of his mouth as he focused on his work.

“Just remember, this means you can keep in touch with each other. Enchanted crows can deliver your letters now.” Jaskier was playing soft music as the others perfected their penmanship. Well, all except Lambert who had taken to doodling, letters getting lost in the pictures. But that was okay, he could always draw his sentiments, the others would understand.

By the time it came to leaving Kaer Morhen, Jaskier was content and happy. He had four witchers who looked so much more self confident in their abilities. Because while he had kept their attention on the arts, it was inevitable that they all bonded. It wasn’t all that unusual to find at least two, if not three of them piling on top of each other with a book, getting lost in adventures they didn’t have to live through. Someone else’s struggles were so much more satisfying when the fear of death and failure didn’t hang above their heads.

Three witchers and a bard stood in the courtyard, horses loaded up as they prepared to leave on their respective paths. Only Vesemir stood in his usual attire and a soft smile creasing his face.

“Safe travels to you all,” he said, meeting the others’ eyes in turn.

“What will you do?” Eskel asked. “You usually accompany us at least some of the way.”

The smile turned into an excited grin and Vesemi gestured vaguely towards the keep. “My path for the year is one that is a tight circle. The library here needs some attention.”

Pride made Jaskier beam. He stepped forward and gave Vesemir a hug. “I expect many a wonderful tale from the library when we’re back next year.”

That sealed it. The next winter, they were all going to return with more stories. Eskel even kept a diary to share with Jaskier in case Geralt was stingy on his details for songs. And, when they all reconvened at the start of the next winter, Vesemir had tomes from the library ready to read stories from while Lambert turned up with his own lute on his back.

[warmau]

☆ pride & prejudice!au doyoung others: yeosang

something catches the heel of your boot as you make your way through the freshly wet grasslands of the countryside

there had been a horrible storm last night and you were worried that your dear sibling had been caught up in it after your parents had sent her off on horseback to that rich mans manor

you stop to look up at the now sunny and expansive blue sky

what was his name? 

your sibling had fawned over him all week after first making his acquaintance at the ball you’d been forced into attending

you try to remember, but all that you recall is the name of his perpetually scowling and stone-faced friend

kim doyoung

other guests at the ball had whispered about him, some kind of surviving heir to a handsome estate and a gigantic load of money

he was even wealthier than the young gentleman throwing this ball, and from the amount of frivolous furniture and expensive wine strewn around the place

that was saying something

he had been beside the man your sibling was being obviously courted by the whole night 

and when you’d had enough of the brooding silence

you had introduced yourself - or you had attempted 

with one glance that seemed to take in the entirety of your existence 

he had stated his conclusion

rudely

“plain, everything about you agrees with the status you and your family are currently in.”

your sibling had a hard time swallowing the statement, but they were easily quelled with their new potential partner

you, on the other hand, just smiled in response 

and everything about your pompous attitude makes me happy to report that rich people are just as self righteous and despicable as ive always assumed them to be

you hadn’t said it outloud - you wanted to - but youd just driven your nails into the skin of your palm behind your back

at home that night your sibling had told you to forget about doyoung, and you had assured her you werent about to live by the gospel of a man born with a golden spoon in his mouth

plus - he was nowhere near your type anyway

you were much more interested in selfless men, with some inklings of kindness and manners

plus, you didn’t think he was all the handsome anyway.

(that was partially a lie, for his lean but broad figure and dark eyes were charming - but it didnt matter. his character shined very, very well through)

finally, after an almost two hour walk - you make it to the manor

and you remember the name of the man who owned it

“im here to see sir taeyong.”

the maid takes a look at the boots you have on - mud and leaves stuck to the toes. the hair you’d tried to make presentable before leaving was now slightly curled with a bit of sweat and the hanging dew still in the air

your skin was glowing with it too, the shawl around your shoulders hanging slightly crookedly

“and you are?”

“my sibling is here-”

“ah! of course, come in. ill take you to the drawing room.”

you’re not surprised at the size of the halls and the ceilings that arch up, you feel like you’re in a church rather than a home

but you presume rich people must enjoy the ,,,,,,,,,, open space

when the maid announces your presence you step inside and into a room of three pairs of eyes

one is taeyong

the other is a women, who might assume is the sister of taeyong or the last person in the room

doyoung

“sorry to disturb-”

“heavens, what is on your feet?”

the women points out

you look down and think - isn’t it obvious? it’s just mud

“did you walk here?”

another voice, deeper, asks

you look up and see doyoung’s gaze fixed on you, a quill in one of his hands

“ah yes. my sibling took our horse here, but i generally do enjoy the exercise.”

taeyong is the only one in the room that gives a little laugh, the other two occupants eye you over again

“by the way, where is my sibling?”

taeyong hurries over and with a sympathetic look explains that they’ve caught a cold and are staying in one of the rooms upstairs

you vaguely remember how persistent your mother was about not allowing your sibling to take the carriage - even when the greying clouds had been peeking through 

it was probably the plan all along, im sure sir taeyong has enjoyed taking care of them immensely

“ill take you!”

taeyong begins, but suddenly doyoung is at his side and as taeyongs hand reaches to hand you the key to the room - doyoungs interrupts and your hand brushes his instead

a small sound emits from you as you step back

but doyoung quickly turns away and calls for a maid to do it instead

you follow the maid up to the room

hands cradled in one and other as you push away the instances thats just happened into the corners of your mind

you unlock the door to the spacious room where your sibling is almost drowning in the extravagant velvet blankets in a lacquered black wooden bed

you can see that they’re paling and shivering and you think its ridiculous what people do to have the attention of someone they love

although, you’re pretty sure your sibling is innocent in the case of this situation

you talk for a bit and before you get up to go, their hand touches your wrist lightly

“i didnt know if it would be important to mention but sir doyoung asked about you.”

the surprise perks you up a bit

“what did he ask?”

“he asked if id relay an apology to you,,,,,,about his comment at the ball.”

as quickly as you’d been interested, you let out the tension in your shoulders

“ill tell him you did, but honestly im just more irritated he’s brought it up again.”

your sibling’s smile is weak and you leave them to rest

you intend to start the long walk back after you’ve excused yourself

but as you say your farewell in the drawing room, the sound of a chair pushing back breaks through your words

doyoung stands and the weight that has hung in the room since your arrival shifts

“ill see you out.”

you’re not sure if that’s a suggestion for which you should give an answer (your answer would be no) but he’s already making his brisk way toward the hall

you follow and are a little bit peeved that he doesn’t stop at the doors

you’re side by side now, and a well halfway through the sprawling path that leads off the property 

the lack of explanation irks you - am i so unworthy of even a word?

you stop and he seems only to notice a few paces later as he turns around

there’s a good five or so feet between you - and from now on you think you’d like to keep it that way

“im sorry if this is crass, but i must ask - do you intend to make the treacherous walk back with me?”

“i-”

the high collar of his perfectly pressed shirt seems to stiffen around his neck

you can’t help yourself and jab for further measure:

“as you’ve noted about me before, the place where i come from is indicative of my class and so i dont think you’d like it much sir.”

his eyes - usually dull and cast to the side are suddenly transfixed on your own

“ive already inquired that your sibling pass on my sincerest apology for th-”

“oh don’t bother.”

you uncross your hands and the shawl falls a bit from your shoulder 

it exposes just a bit of the curve of your neck from the swoop of the line of what you’re wearing and you don’t notice it in the split second of the motion

but the nape of doyoungs neck seems to sweat at the slightest baring of skin

“you don’t have to pretend to want to be in my company simply because your friend is entranced with someone from my family. although it may spite you that he has fallen for someone poor-”

“i never intended to insult you or your family. i apologize, but i don’t think i can keep repeating it until you’re satisfied if that’s what you are asking of me.”

your hands reach your hips now and you lean forward, the strands of your hair are still a little wild since you had no time to brush them back

and the stance makes doyoung take a careful step back 

although he’s dealt with many prying persons in his life, and he’s been accustomed to earning the immediate dislike of them 

something about you right now is less so an annoyance as it is - rather engrossing 

he thinks if you come any closer the heat that’s its way up his jaw might tickle its way onto the rest of his face

“im not asking you to do anything for my pleasure, sir doyoung. i would never ask someone so untouchable to perform any kind of favor - especially not you.”

“not me?”

he snaps from the momentary daze of fascination

you straighten up and march forward, passing him and nearly brushing your shoulder against his

the steps are quick and you are deliberately making them loud to aid your message 

but for some unknown reason they play out like a slow scene in doyoung’s mind

the smell of the dew and honey float by him in the ends of your trail and he swallows a lump that rarely ever grows in his throat

you turn back when you are once again at a good distance

“yes you, ive met enough new people in my life to know that some are just not meant to be my companions, much less even a neighbor to greet occasionally when we cross paths.”

your look is fiery, but not dotted with the usual sparks of momentary greed driven anger doyoung is so used to

instead the flames are yours, and although your expression reads as if you would like nothing more then to take a hold of his throat and wring him out

doyoung is in awe of the beauty that radiates from all around you - like a glowing halo of the setting sunlight

“and i believe you would agree as well - that you and i should keep our interactions to a minimum, and at best, we should never meet again at all!”

with that you start your march again - but his voice only reaches out to you after a minute of a pause

“i was going to offer that you take my carriage hom-”

“no thank you!”

you wave your hand and doyoung stands as he watches you disappear into the countryside

the rapid beating of his heart and sweat on his palms is new 

its different

he’s never reacted like this to someone before

he doesnt realize he’s standing there thinking about the shadow of your back until taeyong runs out to ask him what happened

doyoung doesn’t know how to answer that

what did happen? you had chided him, but he would have done nothing more than to keep hearing such sweet, rude words come from your mouth again.

you keep walking - the fuming anger dying down a bit with each step as you think about the look on doyoung’s face

he hadn’t responded with as many quips as you’d expected, or even turned away to ignore you completely

you know you should forget, but as you near home you bring your hands together and the only thing left on your mind now

is how it had felt when your skin had brushed his 

ugh - what i wouldn’t do to keep telling him off! although now im sure he’ll never want anything to do with me again.

oh, but how wrong you are. 

[ffangirlingsince2001]

End of the Tunnel: IV

George Weasley x Reader

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING, mentions of suicide, cutting, language, angst!!!! (I’m very serious if this messes with your mind DO NOT READ).

MASTERLIST

***

Hannah had been living with him for three weeks. And what a three weeks it had been. There was never a dull moment living with George Weasley. One night she had shown up to a water gun fight and the next a candlelit dinner he had cooked almost entirely on his own (Hermione had been a bit of help where magic failed). He helped her clean after work whenever the shop didn’t keep him late. He held her until morning as they curled beneath the sheets of his drafty apartment, never hesitating to grab another one of his mother’s knitted blankets when she even so much as shivered. He was loving and kind and sweet. He laughed at her stories and even added a few tales from school of his own. He was never impatient when she struggled to understand some wizarding device she had not yet encountered (“It’s a bird of prey!”). Honestly, it had been the best three weeks of her life.

Everything seemed to be perfect until she was returning to his apartment one late night. The town drunk had refused to leave, escalating to a fight with one of her waiters, drawing in cops and a medic for the cuts and bruises left by shards of glass. When she pushed her key into the lock, she immediately knew something was wrong. Nothing was out of place and there was nothing profoundly disturbing, but the air hung like tragedy was waiting to strike.

“George,” she called into the house, jumping as her voice contrasted the heavy silence of the room. “George,” she called again, gently stepping towards the slightly ajar bathroom door. She stretched her hand forward and pushed it open, unable to stop the blood-curdling scream the escaped her throat when she found what was inside.

He was sitting in the bathtub with hair askew and a bottle of firewhiskey, mostly gone, resting in his hand. But that wasn’t what worried her, it was the thin cuts that traipsed up his arm like a morbid train track.

She was on her knees in a second, crouching over him as she sobbed.

“George, George, look at me,” she sobbed, and he glanced at her, tears mixing with the streak of blood across his cheek. He seemed so lost and afraid.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he whispered, and she shook her head, grabbing bandages and climbing into the bathtub as she cried. She straddled his waist and pulled him close. “You’re always home by midnight, but you didn’t come, I thought you weren’t coming back. I thought you were gone.” They both were sobbing now.

“No, I promised. I promised you I’d never leave, and I don’t break my promises,” she cried trying to bandage his wrists. He yanked them away to cover his face, but she held tight, tightly wrapping the gauze around the shallow cuts. They weren’t bleeding much, but every time she glanced at them her stomach churned, threatening to empty her rushed dinner from earlier in the evening. “George, look at me.” She placed a kiss to his forehead. “Please, I need you to look at me,” she cried and eventually, through the emotional turmoil he did so.

His eyes were red from the firewhiskey and puffy from the crying, face so full of sadness he looked like a child who had not received anything on a dreary Christmas morning. She ran his hands over his cheeks, softly wiping away the tears that had been shed.

“George, there was an accident at the bar, I had to stay a bit later to take care of it. I’m sorry,” she explained, and he nodded, tears still sliding down his cheeks. “Please, don’t ever do this to yourself,” she said ushering to his wrists, “You have to promise me, please George.” He halfheartedly nodded but she persisted. “George, I’m serious. I can’t lose you, not to something as terrible as this.” She was crying harder now, fingers pressing subconsciously into the fresh wounds.

“Hannah, I promise, I promise I won’t,” he told her, pulling her tight, sobering up with every second she remained within her presence. They didn’t move from the bathtub that night, holding one another until they fell asleep and woke up with cricks in their backs.

While the three weeks before that had been the best weeks of her life, that day had been the worst, far worse than anything the death eaters had managed to inflict upon her psyche. When they had woken up she had made him promise one more time.

That must have been why when she returned to the house in the middle of the day two weeks later she had been hysterics.

Just like that night she had opened the door, and this time there was no heavy tension in the air, only his body on the kitchen floor.

She heard screaming, harsh and shrill against the silence, and it wasn’t until it was filled with crying that she realized it was hers. It was her scream echoing against linoleum, shaking the dishes and rattling the silverware as she fell to his side. His name never left her lips as she shook his shoulder, praying to whatever god that would listen. She prayed he would wake up and that the blood would return to the two long cuts up either arm. It was a sea of blood, staining the grout and her nails as she tried to pull him into her arms. God it was everywhere, spread across the floor like the cruel slaughter it was. She didn’t want to look at it, but it was impossible to look away. It coated her hands and her arms, staining her blouse all the way down to her shoes. No one should have that much blood, it seemed impossible for someone to have so much. It seemed impossible that it was his, spread across the floor. It just couldn’t be possible, not him, not now, not when he had fucking promised. He had said he wouldn’t do it, he had fucking promised. He just kept slipping back to the tile, cold, heavy… lifeless. It was a wonder none of the neighbors came as she screamed for help, the silencing charms he had once placed on their home should have been nonexistent against the wails of despair that slipped from her lips until her throat ached.

“Wake up! Wake up! Please, I’m fucking begging you wake up!” she screamed until she was hoarse.

It seemed no one would come, no one would help her pick up the pieces that were spread across the floor like a cruel joke. The world was playing a cruel joke on her, by ending when everything had just been beginning. It wasn’t fair, there had to be a way, there just had to. He was a wizard god damn it.

And then suddenly she felt familiar arms wrap around her, holding her tight as she cried. At first she was sure it was just her imagination, until she managed to hear her name through her own cries.

“Hannah,” it called and she turned to find him standing there. She blinked, rubbing away the tears, pressing her hands to his face, just to ensure that it was actually him. He felt there and the way his breath brushed her cheek felt real. She glanced behind her, and the body was still there but it looked different somehow. The alive George pushed her behind him and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the dead version of himself and the body turned to a ball of energy before being banished the a trunk that shook with vigor once it was locked tight. “Hannah, it’s okay, look at me, it’s not real.” She looked down and the blood was gone. It was just her on the floor with George holding her.

“What, I, I don’t.”

“It was a boggart,” he consoled, wiping away her tears.

“A- a what?”

“It shows you your biggest fear. Nasty creatures, I can’t believe we have one this far out of the wizarding world.”

“Oh,” she whispered, turning towards where he had once lain., “I’m glad that’s all.” And with a sudden zeal she pulled him tight against her, breathing deeply what she had thought she had lost only moments ago. He offered her a weary smile and she returned with one of her own.

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow with Ron, but now you should get some sleep.” It felt like hours since she had found the figment of his body, but the sun was still high above them.

“I have to go to work,” she protested but he shook his head.

“No, you don’t. Call someone in, you’re exhausted,” he said, noting the way her shoulders stooped over when he released her. She nodded and he carried her to bed, climbing in beside her. Her arms wrapped around him tighter than they ever had.

That night he waited until she was asleep before sweeping through the kitchen in search of every knife in the place. He bagged them all, doing his best to not let them rattle against each other, and then he chucked them into the bin outside their home. The kitchen was clear of her fears and with a nod he climbed back into bed, if they really needed them he was sure Ron wouldn’t be opposed.