#although there still appears to be only one small bed

[bizarrelittlemew]

this has to be a shout-out to the fandom for speculating about the sleeping arrangements aboard the Revenge for over a year

[navstuffs]

DO IT FOR HIM

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: Leon catches a particular item on your stuff.

Warnings: cute, two idiots in love, FLUFFY FLUFF, comedy, domestic!leon

Author's Notes: inspiration for this came from The Simpsons obvs and this amazing artwork from @emahriel. thank you so much giving me the honor to use it for my little fic! you should all check her blog, she has amazing artwork! i hope this fills your day with joy as much as i had fun writing it!

my leon's masterlist

"What is that?"

You and Leon have been cleaning your bedroom. The idea came from you: to let the energy flow around the house by donating and throwing away old items. Well, you were, at least. Leon is lying in bed, still wearing pajama pants and a shirt, although it is 4 pm. He deserves his rest, he says, and you agree. Because only Leon looks gorgeous in simple grey pants and a white shirt with a hole in the armpits. No complaints on your side.

"What is that?" Leon asks as you sit on the floor, surrounded by old stuff "That. Right there," Leon points, and your eyes follow. It is just your old collection of mangas.

"This?"

"No, behind it. That small little glass frame. What is on it?"

Small little glass…oh, crap. You immediately realize what it is, your stomach twisting. You thought you threw away that long ago before you and Leon moved together. It was a cute piece you made for yourself when you met him, feeling like a teenager in love again. It was never in your plans for Leon to see it.

"No-nothing. It's probably an old art project of mine," You try to place the frame with its face down, thinking of a way to get rid of it, before Leon, faster than you, is at your side, pulling from your hands. "Wait, Leon!"

When Leon turns the frame around, he paralyzes. It is his face. There are numerous pictures of him smiling, looking seriously at the camera, and even admiring the background scenery. There were a few of his younger self as well. And behind it, written in your handwriting in big black bold letters, DO IT FOR HIM. Leon looks at you, a smile appearing on his face, and he feels his cheek heat up.

You don't see that, your face hidden behind your hands. It was just a silly thing you did to help you during work. You placed it on your table to remind yourself to stay strong, even when things got hard.

You peek between your fingers to see Leon isn't in there anymore. Well, there you cringed the man of your life, and he probably regretted marrying you. Or, knowing Leon, he left to give a good laugh without embarrassing you.

Leon comes back, his wallet in his hands. You wait until he sits by your side and hands you the wallet.

"Open it."

You do as you are told, feeling Leon's gentle stare. You hadn't seen anything special in his wallet before besides cards and ID. You look up, and he motions for you to open his wallet. You do it, finding a small folded piece of paper.

"What is this?" You ask, cautious.

"Unfold it."

You wrinkle your forehead, opening the paper and looking at him surprised. It is one of the first pictures you took together after Raccoon City, and you just started dating. Although it was supposed to be a selfie together, Leon accidentally cut himself almost entirely out of the picture, focusing on you and your big happy smile. The paper seemed to have been folded and unfolded plenty of times. When you look at Leon, his face visibly red now, he confesses, his voice low.

"Helped a lot in dark times, believe me."

"Why this one specifically?"

"It was the first time you told me you loved me. I like to remember that."

Without being able to control yourself anymore, sniffling, you throw yourself in Leon's arms, hiding your face on his neck.

"Are you crying?" Leon wonders with a smile. When you don't answer, he rubs your back, whispering in your ear, "I still love you as much as that day."

[russo-woso]

Could you do a fic with lessi where the reader is pregnant and they find out during the delivery that they having twins. Maybe some angst during the delivery like r blaming Alessia. And them not being able to tell the twins apart and lessi keeps getting them confused. You could include like team interactions with the twins and them making fun of alessia for not being able to tell them apart. 🙏

Twins || Alessia Russo

Warning pregnancy, giving birth, ‘I’m such a bad mum’, fluff (lots of it)

It had been a long nine months to say the least.

The last nine months were the hardest nine months of your life.

Being pregnant came with its highs and its lows.

One of the biggest highs, was that you and lessi were finally starting a family. Something that you had both dreamed of since you were seventeen.

However, after going through the long process of IVF and it working, you entered the first trimester and the morning sickness kicked in, the constant tiredness started, the hot flushes occurred.

But the thought of your baby on the way, and Alessia being there every step of the way, made it so much easier for you.

Although, as soon as you entered the later months of your pregnancy, and the kicking started, you had immediately told your wife that you were never going to be pregnant again.

Every minute of every night and day, it was non stop kicking.

You blamed it on Alessia. After all, the baby had her genes, and she was the footballer.

And so when your water broke on a cold December night, you couldn’t have been happier.

You were going to meet your baby, and you weren’t going to be pregnant anymore.

After Alessia running round making sure you had packed everything, you finally made it to the hospital.

As you laid in the hospital bed, Less sat to your right, your breath hitching every time a contraction hit.

Alessia was so good though, constantly whispering how well you were doing and how she was so thankful that you were going through this so you could extend your family.

The midwife came in to check how dilated you were but when she noticed the sudden increase of the baby’s heart rate, she brought the scan machine in to check the little one via a scan.

Alessia took a hold of your hand, treasuring this last scan before you saw your baby face to face.

“I can’t wait to meet our baby.” You told less as the picture appeared on the small screen.

You turned back to face it and noticed the midwife’s eye widen in shock and confusion.

“What? Is everything okay?” Alessia asked, also noticing her change in emotion.

“You do realise there’s two?” She asked back, waiting for an answer.

You just stared at Alessia, not knowing what to do.

“Two what?” Alessia questioned, the realisation not settling in.

“Two babies. You’re having twins.” The midwife explained and you swear you could’ve fainted in that moment.

“No, that can’t be right. We’ve been told throughout the whole pregnancy that it’s only one baby.” Alessia said to the midwife but the midwife pointed to the screen, two babies clearly visible.

“Twin B has been hiding at the back all along.” She pointed out, and you freaked out, worry and dread filling your body, tears spilling out of your eyes.

“Hey, baby, it’s okay. We’re gonna have two babies. Double the amount of love. It’s gonna be hectic but it’s another baby that we get to love.” Alessia said, claiming you down as she enveloped you into a gentle hug. “You’re gonna be such a good mama, you know that, right? You already are.”

“Now due to us only founding out it’s twin now, you will still have to go ahead with a natural birth, however, we’ll give you extra drugs and pain medication to lower the pain.” She explained and you nodded your head, dread filling your mind once again at the thought of pushing two babies out of you.

The midwife left the room, leaving you and less to have to some privacy as you discussed the unexpected twist.

She returned again to actually check how dilated you were, and it turned out that you were eight centimetres dilated so it was only about an hour left.

“Baby, do you think you could get some sleep for me?” Alessia asked, purely thinking of you and how tired you must be feeling.

“Cuddle.” You murmured, your eyes already drooping as Alessia laid down in the bed next to you, her hands instinctively landing on your bump.

As soon as your head landed on her shoulder, you were gone.

Once you had awoken, you felt a build up of pressure in your lower abdomen, which could only mean one thing. It was time.

You told Alessia and she went and grabbed the midwife.

“You ready?” She asked once she had gotten you into position. You nodded back in response, sending a weary nod.

————————

“This is all your fault, Alessia.” You told her through gritted teeth.

Alessia didn’t even deny it. She couldn’t.

You had carried her two babies, and were now delivering them into the world, the least she could do was let your anger out on her.

“Keep going. Keep going. Good job. The heads out now.” The midwife told you, and you let out a sigh of relief, knowing that your first baby was nearly here.

“You’re doing so well, baby. One more push and one of our babies will be here.” Alessia encouraged you, stroking the loose hairs out of your face.

Your face scrunched up, the pain taking over your body, but left as soon as newborn cries filled the room.

“Mum, would you like to come and cut the cord?” The midwife asked Alessia, who nodded straight away.

“A girl, Y/N. We’ve got a baby girl.” Alessia’s voice cracked as she set eyes on your baby girl. “She’s perfect, baby.”

The doctors and nurses took her to be checked over, and Alessia found her spot next to you.

“I have to do it all again because of you.” You told Alessia, rolling your eyes at her.

“I know, love, but it’ll all be over soon and we’ll have two babies.” Alessia pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead as you began pushing once again.

“Fuck, less, I hate you right now.” You managed to get out.

All Alessia could do was smile at you.

She couldn’t have been more in love with you than in that moment.

She was so amazed that you had not only carried two babies but had also gone through the agonising process of delivering them.

With one final push, an identical cry filled the room.

“They’re here, love. Both of them are here.” Alessia cried, kissing your temple, before walking over to cut the cord of Twin B. “Another girl, twin girls.”

“Girls?” You asked, exhausted from giving birth.

“Two baby girls.” Alessia confirmed as the nurses wrapped them in blankets.

“Both of them are perfect. Two sets of ten fingers and ten toes.” The midwife smiled at you as both girls were placed on your chest.

“They’re perfect, lessi.” You sobbed, as you looked down at your baby girls.

Tears ran down yours and Alessia’s faces as you stared in awe at the tiny humans you had both created.

————————

“I can’t wait for the team to meet them. They’re gonna be so shocked when they see both Ava and Mila.” Alessia said as she put both girls in their car seats, pressing light kisses to their noses which scrunched up in reaction.

“They still have no idea?” You asked, resting a hand on Alessia’s back as she crouched down buckling Mila’s car seat.

“No idea at all. I haven’t even told Ella.” Alessia told you, leaning back up picking up a car seat. “I’ve got Mila, no Ava, wait, no I’ve got Mila.”

“Lessi, you’ve got Ava.” You corrected her as less’ face was covered in confusion.

“I’m such a bad mummy. I can’t even get their names right.” Less buried her head in your neck as you brought her in for a hug.

“Love, you’re not. Don’t ever think you are. It’s confusing. I get it wrong too sometimes. They’re identical twins and they’re babies. You know, your mum suggested we write their initials on their hands. We’ll do that when we get to camp.” You told her and she nodded, agreeing with the idea. “Come on then, baby. Let’s get you to England camp.”

————————

After stopping at three services to breastfeed, you eventually made it to St George’s Park.

At first, Alessia had turned down the offer to be at camp for the week purely to be with you and your girls, especially since they weren’t even a week old yet.

But when you found out, you weren’t having it.

She loved her time at England camp and so you compromised and offered to go with.

Alessia spoke to Sarina and Sarina said it was a pleasure for you and the baby, babies, to be there.

On the way there, you and Less had planned it that you would wait outside with one of the twins whilst Alessia walked in with the other.

Hopefully, the team would see Alessia, gathering round to see the newest member of your family.

Then, you would walk in and the plot twist would be revealed.

And that’s exactly how it went.

Alessia walked in, Tooney spotting her first, immediately gathering round to meet her newest niece.

Less set the car seat down and the girls gathered round, staring in awe at the newborn baby fast asleep in a milk coma.

Alessia couldn’t help but shed a tear at the sight of all her best friends connecting with her baby girl.

“What’s her name?” Lucy asked, looking down at the baby.

“So we had two names in mind that we loved throughout the whole pregnancy. We loved them so much that we couldn’t decide between them.” Alessia began as you quietly entered the room with Mila.

“Which turned out really well because we actually got to use both names.” You continued, the team still looking at Ava, unaware of Mila who was in the other car seat.

“It turned out well because unaware to us, we weren’t just having one baby girl.” Alessia said and the team sent her a weird look.

“Instead, we had two.” You spoke up again. This time, the girls looked up at you and gasped once they saw the second car seat.

“Oh my god. Twins?” One of the girls questioned as they all ran towards you, turning silent, scared to speak or make a sound.

You looked up at Alessia who had a massive smile on her face.

“You knew you were having twins and didn’t tell me?” Ella asked you and Alessia and you laughed, knowing the answer was going to sound crazy.

“We didn’t know we were having twins. We only found out an hour before I gave birth.” You told her and Alessia explained the rest of the story.

The team gathered round in the relaxation room, taking it in turns holding the girls.

“So, what are their names?” Lucy piped up again, realising that you never told them in the end.

“The one Kiera’s got is Mila and Niamh’s got Ava. Wait, no, other way round. Actually, what?” Alessia questioned herself, embarrassed that she cousins even name her own babies. “Yes, Kiera’s got Mila and Niamh’s got Ava.”

“Baby, other way round.” You told her and Alessia face palmed herself, sighing in annoyance.

“Awe, can your mummy not tell you apart?” Niamh cooed at Mila, winding Less up.

“Niamh.” You warned, seeing Alessia get worked up. “Baby? Can I talk to you outside?” You asked her, taking her hands in yours as you led her outside.

As soon as you shut the door, Alessia started sobbing.

“That’s like the eighth time I’ve done it. I feel so bad that I can’t even get their names right. I’m such a bad mum.” Alessia shared with you, in between sobs.

“Hey, hey, calm down, baby. It’s okay. They’re only five days old, we haven’t had time to get to know them yet. That’s the hard bit about having twins. As they get older, they’ll have their differences. It’s just because they’re still young.” You told her as you continued to hug her.

You broke apart from the hug and pressed your lips on hers.

As you did, a small cry was heard from within the relaxation room.

“That’s Ava, you go sit down and I’ll grab her.” Alessia told you and you smiled at her.

“How do you know it’s Ava?” You asked her, confused as you weren’t in the room to know.

“Her cry is higher pitched compared to Mila’s.” Alessia explained to you and you simple smiled at her, knowing she had proved herself wrong.

“See, you knew that was Ava. I didn’t know that was Ava. At a guess, I would have said it was Mila.” You said, rubbing your hand up and down Alessia’s arm.

“Thank you, Y/N. Thank you for always being there for me, thank you for giving me our two girls, thank you for everything.” Alessia stated, kissing your lips.

“Thank you, lessi.”

“Guys, stop kissing and come and get your daughter!” You heard Mary shout and you laughed before going back into the room.

“Come on, Mila.” Alessia cooed, picking her up and resting her in her arms. The baby girl immediately calming down by her mummy’s touch.

“Babe, that’s Ava.” You said and Alessia face dropped. She was so confident and 99% sure that it was Mila. “I’m joking, love. Sorry, I just had to do it.”

“I hate you right now.” Alessia mumbled, not wanting to wake up Mila.

“Hmm, that sounds familiar but at least we’re even now.”

[httpiastri]

yours – op81

love is tough, but oscar makes it easy.

genre: fluff, angst/comfort

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety and commitment issues

author's note: hello hello! this is based on this song that i first heard at my sixth grade graduation. hope you enjoy. 💓

f1 masterlist

‎‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎‎

"do you really have to go?"

oscar's voice echoes from inside your bedroom all the way out to where you're standing in the hallway. you shoot one last glance at yourself in the mirror before stepping into your heels, letting them click against the floor as you walk back to the entrance of the room your boyfriend is in. he's staring up at you with his puppy-like eyes, his back resting against the headboard and his lower body covered by the duvet.

you nod, a small pout appearing on your lips. "i really do. attendance at the seminar is mandatory," you hum, leaning against the door frame.

"does your professor not care that your darling finally has a day off and needs cuddles?" he sighs, a playful frown on his face.

"unfortunately not. however," you start, walking over to him and sitting on the edge of the bed. "i'll be back in just a few hours. and then, i'll cuddle you so much that you'll get through next week without any cuddles at all."

oscar shakes his head. "not possible. there's not enough time in the world for that." you roll your eyes and stick your tongue out at him. "i think i'll need some kisses to survive until you get back, though."

you chuckle, leaning forward and letting your lips brush against his. your hand moves down to his neck, your thumb drawing little circles into the skin, before your fingers pull softly on his lowest strands of hair. his own hands land on your hips, lifting you up and into his lap, his sudden actions drawing out a small yelp from you. when you part from the kiss, you use your free hand to squish his cheeks together.

"you scared me," you scold, giving his cheeks one last squeeze before using the hand to adjust your skirt.

but oscar doesn't say anything. when you look up at him again, you find his big eyes staring right into yours, contentment written on his face. you raise an eyebrow at him, but he only smiles back. "you know what?" he asks, and you shake your head. "i love you."

although it's not the first time he's uttered those words to you, his words still bring a slight blush to your cheeks. but no matter how much you'd like to, you don't answer him.

you wish you could say something; that you loved him too, that you're his and only his, or that you've never felt this strongly for anyone before. but you just can't. you're so scared of being vulnerable – not just with him, but in general – and you're so scared to admit that you're falling for him.

because falling for him means that losing him will hurt way worse.

the weight of your unspoken emotions lingers in the air, leaving a bittersweet tension between you. in the silence that follows his words, your eyes never look away from his, and you hope he can decipher the unspoken words in your gaze – just like he usually can. maybe one day, courage will grant you the ability to vocalize what your heart truly feels. but for now, it's like your mouth is taped shut.

"you don't have to say anything, you know," oscar says, interrupting your train of thought.

he understands. he always does.

now it's his time to caress your cheek with one of his hands. a smile spreads across your lips and you lean forward to hug him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. he squeezes you close, hoping you'll feel the warmth and comfort he's trying to send your way.

"i'll hury out of class as soon as it ends," you tell him, giving his lips one last peck before standing up from the bed.

his touch lingers on your skin when you make your way to the door. "i'll be counting the minutes until you're back," he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of longing and affection. with one last glance over your shoulder, you meet oscar's gaze, finding solace in the warmth of his brown eyes. and when you step out into the hallway, you leave the comfort of his embrace behind but continue carrying his love with you.

you already can't wait to be back in his arms.

‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎

working the late shift sucks.

you hate getting home late, you hate having no time to study and being too tired to even cook a light meal. and tonight, work has been particularly hard.

your boss had been in a bad mood, which resulted in everyone else suffering, too. and besides making your workplace feel like a living hell, she also gave you some extra paperwork to finish at home.

so, to say that you are exhausted when you finally enter the front door of your apartment tonight is an understatement.

you kick off your shoes and throw your coat into the wardrobe with a heavy sigh. as you're stomping off to your bedroom, you gather your last drops of energy to make it all the way bed, and you're just about to turn the lights on in your bedroom when something catches your eye.

oscar is lying in your bed, his head resting atop your pillow as soft snores pass through his lips. as your eyes begin to wander through the room, you notice that the bedside lamp is turned on, a sticky note pressed to it. you make your way towards it, steps much softer than before, hoping to let the sleeping beauty stay asleep. when you reach the bed, you pick up the piece of paper, holding it up to your face.

‎‎ ‎‎

hey baby,

i know you're working late and i wasn't sure if you ate before or not, so i made dinner for you. it's in the fridge. i hope you had a good day, and if not, wake me up if you want to talk about it. or wake me up if you want to just exist and not talk. anything is fine by me.

love,

oscar.

‎‎ ‎‎

by his name sits a small, uneven heart, making the corners of your mouth pull upwards. you put down the note again and turn off the lamp before lifting the duvet, lying down and scooting close to him. with a soft sigh, you rest your head on his chest and drape an arm across his body.

you know oscar means a lot to you, and you know you want nothing but to be with him. but, just the thought of discovering exactly how much he means to you frightens you.

every little action and every single word of his makes you fall deeper for him. every day, your feelings grow stronger. now, it's just about finding strength in yourself to talk to him about it.

"i..." you start, voice as silent as you can possibly make it. "i think... i think i'm ready for love."

oscar's eyes remain closed, his breathing still slow and heavy, but one of his arms instinctively wraps across your lower back and squeezes you close. it's like a silent, unconscious message that he understands, and your heart almost bursts out of your chest.

‎‎ ‎‎

the room is almost completely dark, the only source of light being the thin streak from the full moon on the night sky passing through the curtains. the moon and the stars are all reflected in the tears falling down your cheeks, the ones that had left your eyes before you had even noticed that you were crying.

your body is heavy, like weights are pulling you down into the mattress, but you need to sit up. you need to do something, anything.

you press your hands into the bed, lifting yourself up to a sitting position. you pull your legs up to your body, hugging them tightly as you exhale a light sob. closing your eyes and pushing the palms of your hands to your eyelids, you try your best to clear your mind from the scenes of your nightmare. but they are replaying themselves over and over, and you stand no chance. they're clouding your thoughts, they're taking over, they're too much, you're drowning in them-

suddenly, there's a rustle next to you in bed, and you jump. opening your eyes, you turn to the side – only to instantly realize that there's no reason to be scared when you see oscar's eyes blinking up at you.

"love?" he whispers, one of his hands helping him sit up while the other tries to rub some sleep out of his eyes. "are you crying? what's wrong?"

you can't speak. as you look up at him, the dream you'd just dreamt starts feeling so very real again, and there's a sharp pain in your chest. breathing is getting harder, and for every breath you try to take, the pressure in your chest increases. the tears won't stop spilling from your cheeks down onto the bed.

"hey, you need to breathe." he wipes away a couple of tears with his thumb, making sure to make his own breathing louder for you to follow him. it takes a few moments, but under his soft touch you always feel like you can relax and eventually, you can breathe almost normally again. "please talk to me, sweetheart. what's wrong?"

you look up at him, into his worried eyes, but regret it instantly and look away again. "i..." your eyes roam across the room, never focusing or staying on anything. "i had a bad dream."

oscar remains quiet, not sure what to say. he nods slowly.

"i... thought i'd lost you..." you say under your breath, so low that he doesn't hear you.

"what was that?"

you sigh. "i dreamed that i lost you. that you weren't here for me anymore, that-" you halt, unsure whether or not to keep going. you pull a hand through your hair, finally looking back at him. "that you didn't love me anymore."

he nods once again. "and that made you feel like this?"

you sniffle and dry some of your tears from your eyes with the blanket. "yeah." you shrug. "i don't know, i just... want to be your everything." closing your eyes again, you cover your face in your hands. "god, i'm falling apart."

the worst part about the dream was the realism of it. you've got a feeling that it's a reflection of the near future, and you loathe the thought of accidentally forcing oscar to stay with you. you don't want him to feel like he can't leave you, as you're sure it's hard for him to stay with someone who doesn't give as much love as he does. you just don't want to be a burden, but your mind keeps telling you that you are just that – and that this will be the end of you two.

but without warning, oscar takes a hold of your waist, pulling you into his lap and embracing you tightly. "feeling like this doesn't mean you're falling apart," he says. "and i promise you," he pulls away just enough for him to be able to look at your face properly. "you are my everything. and more."

you answer with a smile, burying your face in his neck. "i'm yours."

"what was that?" he teases.

you lean up to give his lips a chaste kiss before resting your forehead against his. "i'm yours."

and suddenly, the room doesn't seem as dark anymore.

‎‎ ‎‎

"honey, i'm home!" you holler before closing the front door behind you, stepping out of your shoes and hanging up your coat in the wardrobe. you don't need to hear your boyfriend's answer to know that he's still in your bedroom. or, more specifically, cuddled up in your sheets.

waddling into the room, you find him lying on his stomach, his laptop propped up in front of him. "i think i found a good movie," he cheers, eyes moving up to where you're standing by the doorway.

"they didn't have your favorite chocolate croissant, so," you begin, holding up the paper bag from the bakery. "i got three other kinds, just to make sure you like at least one."

"you didn't have to do that."

you smile and sit down next to him on the bed, laying down the bag by the computer before taking oscar's face into your hands. "you're the best, you deserve it." you lean down to give him a quick kiss before looking at the computer. "what movie is it?"

"it's called..." he quickly glances at the laptop's screen. "grease?"

your mouth flies open. "you haven't seen grease?!" he shakes his head quickly, and your surprised look turns into a grin. "you dork..." you ruffle his hair with both of your hands. "it's really good, let's watch it!"

he doesn't say anything back; he merely looks at you, a huge smile on his lips as his eyes wander across your face. you chuckle.

"what is it?"

"nothing," he says, reaching up with one hand to brush a few strands of your hair out of your face. "i just love you so much."

you smile back at him, leaning down to kiss him yet again. "but not as much as i love you."

there it was. those three words, the ones you'd been so afraid of, the meaning behind them that had worried you so much – and here you are, saying them like it's the easiest thing in the world.

oscar tries to play it cool, but on the inside, he's barely even believing his ears. "are you sure?" he asks, and you nod immediately.

"i love you." one more kiss. "i love you." one more. "i love you."

"get down here so i can cuddle you already," he says, his hand impatiently patting the space next to him on the bed. how could you ever say no to that?

[haeryna]

thinking about idol!gojo and rockstar!geto (tw: mentions of underage drinking, implied abandonment, implied homophobia from gojo's parents, vague mentions of illness)

how you three, along with shoko, lived in the same ratty small town in the middle of nowhere. you'd moved when you were six, all shy and scared of the house your parents had moved to in order to help your sick grandmother that you barely remembered because the last time you'd seen her was when you were four. you were from the city; you'd never seen fireflies, or grass that stretched out as far as your eyes could see, and so when you saw the first firefly appear just as the sky turned to dusk, how were you supposed to resist it?

so you chased it down to the creek, all smiles and filled with excitement, until you realized it was dark, and you were in the forest, and you were scared. you couldn't help but start to cry, and that's where geto found you.

"are you lost?"

sniffling, you peered up at the dark haired boy, whose soft brown eyes filled with a sort of concern. "y-yeah," you hiccupped, and geto offers up a gentle smile. "it's okay, i know the way back."

and so, you'd taken his hand, let him tug you out of the creek bed, and lead you back toward the house that still didn't quite feel like home. you'd learn, his name was suguru. suguru geto, and wherever suguru geto was, satoru gojo was never too far behind (although you didn't know that, yet).

"you crying?"

you'd let out a startled yelp, still clinging to suguru's hand, twisting to look at the other boy who was staring at you with unrestrained curiosity. even at the age of six, you found him beautiful, with the piercing blue of his eyes, and the soft white down of his hair, even as he mocked you. satoru hadn't known how else to express the sort of silent jealousy that had torn its way through his chest once he saw you holding suguru's hand.

the two of you bickered, all the way back until they left you at your front door, much to suguru's displeasure. yet satoru was beaming; nobody but suguru and shoko dared to speak to him that way. he was too young to understand the way his heart seemed to churn every moment he saw you after .

later, you would meet shoko ieiri, who instantly took a liking to you, defending you with the stubbornness of an older sister you never had.

later, you would realize just how beautiful suguru and satoru were, as they grew. you were the one who pierced suguru's ears (a decision made at 1am in his basement), who bought satoru his first eyeshadow palette (his parents would have died if they'd ever see him use it). and it was eventually you who brought them into music, as you stared up at the ceiling of suguru's basement. the lights grew hazy as you blinked up at them, empty bottles of stolen beer surround you. suguru and shoko were busy smoking a pack of (also stolen) cigarettes, and satoru was on his phone.

"what if we like. made a band?"

you were only 16, and dreamed of leaving the small town you'd moved to. the temporary stay had turned permanent after your grandmother had inevitably passed. shoko immediately snorted. "i love you, but i can't sing for shit."

but you were persistent. you thrifted an old guitar that you gave to suguru as a birthday present, encouraged satoru's angelic singing.

you should have known they would outgrow you.

you're 21 now, still living in the old house, taking care of your parents. the dreams you'd had years ago turned into ash in your mouth. even shoko had left, off to pursue medical school.

you can't stomach looking at the news anymore. satoru has broken into the idol industry, creating equal amounts of chart toppers and scandals. an idol like that only comes once every one hundred years, they say. with the way he moves, the way he acts, you're inclined to believe it.

(when you watch him for the first time, on some variety show, you see him, see the way they've done his makeup, and you're brought back to sitting on the couch, telling him to stop moving or he'll mess up the eyeshadow you attempting to apply. you wonder if his parents were furious at the decision. you wonder where the eyeshadow palette you gave him went. did he take it with him before he left for good? bile rises heavy in your throat, and you shut off the television, unable to stomach it any longer.)

the radio is equally as traitorous. you know suguru has been dominating the indie charts, to the point where it's simply suguru and satoru competing against each other. you hate how whenever you go to the local bakery, you can hear his voice again playing through the speakers. hate how when you make the long drive to pick up your parents' medicine, how you can hear him through your car's speakers. it feels intimate in a way that you cannot bear.

(still, you hear the guitar and remember the look in his eyes when you gifted him the one you'd found in the thrift store. suguru had treated it reverently, telling you with an earnest sort of smile that, "the first song i write will be for you." he's traded out acoustics for rock. he has no need for that guitar anymore, you think absentmindedly. just like he no longer needed you.)

but what you don't know is that every time satoru's makeup artist gets to his eyes, he has to keep them firmly shut or else he'd burst into tears. she didn't do it like you. she never would. every time he steps onto the stage, he looks for you, though he knows he'll never find you. it never stops him from looking. how he sings his heart out in the hopes you'll hear him, unaware that despite his popularity, you avoid his music like it's deadly.

what you don't know is that every time suguru writes, he realizes how he lied to you. "the first song i'll write will be for you," he remembers, and yet now every song he writes is about you. now, girls he doesn't even know, screams his name, screams along to his songs that he wrote for you. they pretend that they're the girl who was left behind, the girl that he's never stopped loving.

(he'll never forget the way your hand fit into his, how even at the age of six he knew that you were the only one who ever had his heart along with satoru)

how on days he misses you particularly badly, the piercings you'd given him burns. he writes his love into his music, the music that you shut off every time you hear it come on the radio.

it changes nothing, if they come back, you tell yourself. suguru and satoru have each other. they don't need you.

but one day they do come back, come back for you, and it changes everything.

[silkjade]

STILL WITH HEARTS BEATING

alhaitham x reader ⤀ warnings: gn!reader, insecurity issues, fear of vulnerability, hurt/comfort, selfship coded a/n: a vent drabble, so everything is super self indulgent + reader is based on me lol

“tell me atlas. what is heavier: the world or its people’s hearts?” — darshana suresh

although he prefers to keep his nose buried in a book, alhaitham is still as perceptive as ever, taking note of all the minuscule changes in your demeanor, even whilst you don a mask to stifle your woes.

he sees it first in the wistful sighs scattered amongst your too calm breaths, in your crafted smile, too practiced to be natural, and the strained words that fall too heavily out your lips, each in a race to prove that everything is normal and fine—that any anomalous behavior might only be the ramifications of an exhausting day.

your name rolls so naturally off his tongue, as he reaches out to you, catching your wrist before you can disappear into the bedroom and sleep away your swallowed emotions.

“are you alright?”

he asks out of courtesy, but to him, the signs are clear as day: the sharp inhale and slow exhale as you rally to fabricate another facade, chin tilted just a smidge too high as you turn to face him, dull eyes glistening with the remnants of unshed tears, forced to retreat by the winged flutter of your lashes.

to him, the signs are clear as day that you are not, that you are only putting on a brave face, something which he finds odd within the threshold of your shared home.

“just tired is all,” you reply, speaking in half truths. after all, it's exhausting trying to keep up appearances when all you wish to do, is to curl into yourself and rot into your bed.

you flash him a quick smile, small and devoid of warmth; a lame imposter to the very one he’s grown so terribly fond of.

he repeats your name, this time softer, brows knitted with equal parts skepticism and concern at your empty words. filled with even emptier spirit, he notes.

nonchalant, rehearsed, refined—and yet, he can hear the melancholia that spills into your tone. see the downward twitch of your lead-laden lips and the watery shift of your eyes as you avert your gaze in self-consciousness.

“you don’t have to hide from me,” he murmurs, and you want to believe him, want to believe that you’re brave enough to lay down your defenses, that you can trust him to hold your porcelain heart in his hands without threat of endangerment.

you open your mouth to speak, but not a sound comes out as the words turn to bile in your throat. to swallow the bitter liquid, or to spit your heart out and lay it bare for him to see. for alhaitham, who is more than just an akademiya giant, but a cornerstone of sumeru itself: brilliant and brave, kind in spite of his unconventional displays. the sun who shines by the heat of his own radiance.

his moon, he calls you. and yet the moon does not glow; the moon whose only light is a reflection of the sun.

you purse your lips, internally willing yourself to believe that these tears will not spill. it'd be egregious—like coughing up blood when you too have a reputation to uphold, a certain presence to be perceived. for even the moon, who shines by grace of borrowed light, is steadfast in its quiet elegance.

“it’s fine,” you insist, “really.” it’s heavy under the weight of your pride, but at least your heart is safe here in your chest, isolated and tucked away.

you push until he relents, relaxing his grip around your wrist. good, you think, he's given up. but then why does it so painfully squeeze your heart in a way you cannot convey—like a hair-lined fracture upon your brittle bones.

but alhaitham is no fool; he intends to prove he’d catch you before you can shatter, freeing your wrist, only so that he might pull you into his arms instead. there is no shortage to the vast infinity of words he can say, but matters of the heart have never been his forte… and so he hopes that his actions might speak more profoundly than his words.

the sudden impact blows your eyes wide with surprise, tears already threatening to spill from the solace of just his embrace. there are no sounds other than his steady heart and even breaths, no scent besides the faded woody fragrance of his cologne. it's safe here, cocooned in his arms, and you think that for a moment, perhaps everything is and will be fine.

you relax against him, basking in his warmth, as you rest into the crook of his neck, absentmindedly staring at the patterns on the floor.

“you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispers, “but please don’t hide from me.”

your hands, pressed flush against his chest, curl into themselves, relieved that he cannot see the tears welling in your eyes. he does, however, feel that first crystalline droplet that slides freely down your cheeks, melting into the fabric of his clothes as more follow. alhaitham runs his fingers through your hair, while his other hand hugs you by the small of your back, holding you ever closer. the occasional sob racks your body, silent and reluctant, but it’s a start.

a heart is a complex web of earnest emotions, floridly woven into secrets he cannot fault you for keeping locked away in a vault. perhaps one day, you’d rely on him, let him in to share the burden. and if he should be so lucky, perhaps you'd deem him worthy to be your home, so that you might rest with him, without armor. as for now, he’ll gladly cushion your fall, give you a soft place to land.

in the night’s dark embrace, the moon’s milky light paints patterns through the stained glass window of your bedroom, and behind you, your lover’s arms stay wrapped around your waist, holding you close beneath the blankets.

“… alhaitham?” your voice is delicate, spun from silk amidst the quiet of the night.

“hmm?” he peaks an eye open at the unfamiliar use of his full name.

“if I ask you something, do you promise to answer honestly?”

“I don’t see any reason not to.” The low vibrations of his tone tickles your skin as he replies with a kiss to your shoulder.

“am I…,” you hesitate, voice wavering as you contemplate whether words whispered into the wind might write itself into stone. “am I… enough for you?”

the seconds seem to stand still, as if all the world and even the sky itself, were holding its breath in bated anticipation.

finally, a creak cuts through the silence as the bed shifts alongside alhaitham, who now hovers over you, his body and arms trapping you in between. the intensity of his gaze prompts you to look away, but he reaches for your chin, holding you gently so that you have nowhere to look, save for his technicolored eyes.

enough for him? is that what you were upset about? what a shame, he thinks.

“If you could only see what I see,” he murmurs, with a kiss to your forehead. his moon, his stars, his entire night sky, who guides him in the dark.

“intelligent, intuitive, independent,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and down your neck in between each word. “outspoken and fiercely strong. beautiful, capable of anything…”

alhaitham glances up, only satisfied once the insecurity is dispelled from your features, replaced by an absolute reassurance.

"… which I knew from the moment you made me fall completely in love with you."

he peppers your face with little kisses, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh, almost embarrassed. “haitham…”

alhaitham pauses at your first genuine smile of the night. “I mean every word. you’re more than enough, just as you are. and no one should be able to take that away from you, so…”

he rolls back into bed, pulling you with him as he goes, so that you might drift to sleep with your head rested atop his chest, listening to the steady tune of his heart, as it sings to you in your dreams.

a/n2: this was actually vry therapeutic but i did not intend for it to get this long, and so i m a bit embarrassed (don’t perceive) however if u have made it this far, as always, thank u for reading ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[thisismeracing]

Honeymoon stunts | CL16

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 1.2k ― Warnings: not proofread; mentions of a wedding and public sex; graphic description of sex; p in v; breeding kink; +18 (minors DNI); ― Summary: Charles and Yn just got married, and although they know too much about one another, there's always something new to discover together, such as Charles' new breeding kink. ― A/n: Every piece I write here it’s a new experience, so your feedback, comments, and asks are more than welcome. *mwah* 🤍

⁕ I just got back from a shadowban so Tumblr is still a bit slow on delivering my stuff, that being said, it would be nice if you guys could not only like, but reblog this piece. Thank youuu!

Based on this request.

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⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

Charles loved the sea. He loved what it represented, its mysteries, and how it could be used for many interpretations of life. For example, he loved to think that life sometimes worked just like the sea: it had its highs and lows, sometimes the waves would reach the furthest part of the beach, and sometimes it would retract and crash almost around itself. He, like the sea, has had many setbacks the past few years, but, just like the sea, Charles too had his high tides. The most recent one being just the other day: his marriage.

Charles married Yn, and he considered this his high tide. The water reached the driest pieces of land in his heart. 

He have never been so happy the way he was with Yn by his side. 

And as if on cue, she appeared in front of him obstructing a bit of the sunlight reaching his face. Charles pinched his sunglasses at the point of his nose, leaving just enough space for Yn to see his eyes. 

“Hi, husband,” she grinned.

“Hey, wife.”

“I missed you in bed,” she confessed before straddling his lap, her hands firmly planted on his strong shoulders.

Charles mumbled a quick apology busying his lips with her ebony skin. He trailed kisses from her neck to her jawline and the corner of her lips, and then from her cheeks to her shoulders where he lowered the straps of her nightgown. Yn smiled and with a dashing attitude, she pushed the small piece of fabric enough to free one of her breasts. 

“Chérie,” Charles lets out a pained whisper as if trying to hold himself back.

“It’s a private beach.” Yn reminded.

“We’re going into the kinky public sex?” he teased lightening the mood and Yn threw her head back in laughter. The Monegasque watched how that position exposed so much for him. Just for him.

And what could Charles do if not take it?

One of his hands tightened on Yn’s waist, while his open palm found a home in the middle of her back bringing her body closer to his mouth. He kissed and licked over the places he knew he had left small lovebites the night prior. Yn whimpered and rocked her hips against his bulge, she was wearing nothing but the nightgown and Charles moaned when he felt her wetness against his trunks. He dipped one of his hands between their bodies, his skilled fingers were fast to find her sensitive bud and rub it teasingly. She bucked her hips harder and Charles groaned. 

It was her turn to kiss her way from his neck to his face. She took her time biting, sucking, and gently kissing his now-tanned skin. And she did it all while lazily rocking on top of him, which only drove Charles crazy. Yn, however, didn’t kiss his lips and he was about to protest when she got up, took off her nightgown threw it at his face, and covered her breasts with one of her arms. 

“Yn…” Charles warned and she giggled. The wind and the waves mixed themselves with her happy noises and Charles swore he found paradise again. 

“You want it?” she teased spinning her body for him. “Come get it!” she giggled again and took off to their cabin. Charles gripped her piece of clothing and laughed before sprinting right after her. He got to her just when she reached the door and it wasn’t long before they stumbled into the bed. Yn sitting on top of him again.

Charles gripped her neck and brought her face down to his, smashing his lips to hers in a messy and needy kiss that Yn reciprocated with the same amount of passion. She rocked against him again, and this time her fingers were the ones between their bodies, she pushed his trunks down freeing his hard cook. Their lips were still attached to the others when Yn started pumping his shaft, her thumbs finding his head every once in a while, and her mouth swallowing all the dirty noises coming out of her husband. 

“Fuck, mon amour, just- oh fuck,” Charles started but lost track of his words when Yn tightened her hand on his base. 

“Yes?” 

“Don’t tease me,” he whimpered and she smiles victorious. It was a wonderful feeling to have Charles under her begging and whimpering to have her. It felt powerful. He needed her just as much as she needed him. 

Yn kissed his collarbone one last time and got into a seating position grinding his dick against her lips, gathering just enough slick to help him slip inside her. Which Charles did in a single movement. It earned a loud moan from both of them. 

“Oh, fuck- you feel so good, chérie,” he breathed.

“Charls,” Yn moaned starting a sequence of rotational movements. She rocked and ground on top of him and Charles raked his short nails on her back and thighs. She repeated her movements and they felt the ecstasy that angle caused. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!” Yn almost screamed when Charles lifted his hips to find her moves. Her body shook with want. He felt bigger when she rode, and she could feel his pulsing dick so much better that way. It was fantastic. 

Charles gripped her breasts and took one nipple between his teeth teasing and playing with it while their bodies kept rutting against each other. Yn raked her fingers throw his brunette strands, gripping his face and directing his lips to her.

Her stomach tingled whilst Charles devoured her until her body started to tremble, “I’m coming,” Yn choked and Charles smirked lifting his lips again. His thrusts got sloppier and Yn knew from that fact that he wasn’t far behind her.

When the wave of pleasure washed over her, she let her body fall on top of his, her body dissolving into pleasure, but her hips still grinding waiting for Charles' turn. He grunts and moans and he’s about to pull out when Yn perches her body harder forcing them to stay in that position.

“Come inside me,” she pleads and lets out a string of curses in French. 

“You want me to let you have my seed?” Charles asks and Yn can only nod, her sensitive clit brushing against his pubic bone. “Huh? You want me to put a baby in you, mon amour?”

 Her eyes roll back and she cries feelings another orgasm approach, “Please, Charles!” 

“Tell me, chérie. Tell me you want me to stuff you full of my cum,” his voice is low, but his tone is set and straight, almost like an order and Yn obeys.

“Please, I want to- I want you to empty yourself inside me. I’ll have all your babies, love.” 

Charles bites her shoulders and sensually groaned on her ear when his orgasm finally came. It brought her second one along and they rode it together, gripping the other for dear life, moaning profanities, and love confessions. 

When the dizzy feeling of the orgasm started to fade, Yn sat up, a small smirk on her face, Charles was still buried inside her, she could feel their wetness mixing together between her legs, and the Monegasque could only smile blissfully at her. “So… a breeding kink, Charls?” 

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⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

⁕ I just got back from a shadowban so Tumblr is still a bit slow on delivering my stuff, that being said, it would be nice if you guys could not only like, but reblog this piece. Thank youuu!

Feel free to leave me a message or ask <3

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Tell Her You Love Her 3/4 (Word count 4.5 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

A/N: Finally I can share the rest of this crazy story with you guys! Chapter 4/4 will be posted right after this one. Also if you haven't yet seen @shizukaay0 's amazing fanart for this fic, go take a look, it's steamy!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

She wakes up next morning only to find König gone.

The restless night nearly makes her sleep in, and when she notices that the man has left while she was still sleeping, something twists like a blade inside her stomach. She throws the covers off, scours the room with her stare, and notices a note and a small sunflower on the bedside table.

He has left his knife – or one of them – here too. Another gift.

The steel is dark, nearly black; the handle olive green, with sturdy finger grooves and a heavy guard to protect the fingers. The saw-toothed portion on the back of the blade gives the knife a look that most people would probably deem ugly. The blade is wide and ends in a vicious, fat tip that looks sharp enough to puncture flesh without having to apply much pressure.

She doesn't know what a Glock knife looks like, but this is exactly how she sees König: petrifying, big, and brutal. In her eyes, beautiful… Stunning.

The knife juts from the table and holds a note in place although there is no risk of wind to take it off.

Flower for my Engel

I'll see you tonight

The clumsy, hurried message immediately makes her smile. The disturbing thoughts from last evening are only an odd memory – his offerings make her insides glow with warm milk and honey, she feels silly, like summer – and the promise to come to her every night doesn't feel like a threat anymore, it feels… magical, a secret romantic meeting, something wild, something she has always avoided from fear of trying new things.

The floral dress on the floor doesn't appear as evidence of her ruining anymore. It's fairytale-like: that he leaves flowers and knives wherever he goes. The destroyed bra makes her almost giggle. When has a man ever done something like that to her in the heat of passion?

The night feels like another odd dream: König had barely fit to sleep in her bed, and she had barely fit to curl around him. He had slept like a baby, motionless and peaceful, while she woke up every few hours to admire him: to watch the slow pulse between his collarbones barely revealed by the hood and listen to the faint snore that stopped for the smallest moment when she brushed her fingertips over his stomach.

Her muscles ache from lying half on top of him all night. Changing position was out of the question because he held an arm of steel around her all night. Luckily, it prevented her from falling from the bed. But now her muscles were coated with pains of not getting enough sleep while being held in place by a giant for almost 9 hours. Not to talk of the fresh aches born from their activities before getting those precious few winks of sleep…

She goes to work that day with such an everlasting beam that people notice her. She's not entirely sure what has happened, but she is suddenly wildly alive, and blooming.

No one knows about her secret man, her secret, sturdy weapon. No one knows she is the one he comes to every night: the shy, invisible cleaner who has seduced the man whom everyone fears.

And they can keep their boring normalcy and dull decency. She has found something infinitely better.

He's her most precious secret from now on.

He comes to visit her in the break room in the middle of the day, and she's slightly surprised. She thought they would see each other only at night from now on.

She greets him with a smile, and he answers her delight with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He looks far more normal now that the tension is gone. It's suddenly easy to be in his company because they share a secret nobody else knows about.

"Hi… What are you doing here?"

Her shy smiles and the soft whisper should tell him that she doesn't object at all to this sort of intrusion. She might be a little obsessed now too.

"I had to see you," he says as if she's his priority from now on, and her heart feels lighter and lighter. He's equally as lovestruck as she, then.

"You look so beautiful."

She's walking in a dream again: this man calls her beautiful even when she's hidden in her cleaner uniform, stripped from her dresses and flowers and makeup. The only thing she has is her smile, really, but he's not any less adoring. She's being worshiped during her sleepy coffee break, in broad daylight, when she's dressed in dull, grimy working clothes… Who would've thought?

“Thank you,” she gives him another smile, and he moves to her; so close that she has to crane her neck to look up at him.

The kiss that follows is stolen but thoroughly consensual. She disappears inside his hood and smiles on his lips, which are far gentler now. It's a chaste little kiss that happens in darkness and in secret, like everything else between them.

"Will you come to me tonight…?" She asks as if the note wasn't promise enough that he would. He's far too decent, not even groping her this time, and it drives her crazy.

"Nothing could keep me from you," he answers straight into her mouth. His musk and the soap he uses – something breezy and pungent, tea tree, perhaps – surround her much like the hood.

"You can be on top this time. I want to see how you take it–"

"Shh…" She smiles, almost laughs at his libertine whispers. He's smiling, too.

"Don't worry. I'll do the heavy lifting if you're tired."

He retreats, the hood is taken away and her sight is filled with light and decency, but then his hands go around her waist and lift her from the ground. It's like she's flying, floating through the air before he sets her gently on the coffee table.

"Except that you're not heavy at all," he says, voice dark and thick from arousal. He moves to her neck, the hood-coated face roams up and down her throat as he moves to whisper more suggestions in her ear.

"Or you can take it in your mouth… Have you ever had a man in your mouth?"

Something tells her that if she were to say yes, it would deeply upset him. The hair on the back of her neck starts to tingle, and when she doesn't answer him, he continues.

"I could eat you at the same time. Would you like that?"

His voice is darker still, and it makes her bite her lip and grab his arm for support. Even the idea of a 69 with him is dizzying. She can barely breathe from the joy and wanting.

How is she supposed to continue her day when he pops up out of nowhere and talks such sweet filth in her ear?

"König…"

"And after that… We'll fuck until your legs shake."

"Stop," she laughs a hushed giggle in the fabric of his hood. "This is inappropriate…"

"Oh ja. I'm hard again."

Mmh.

"All your fault, Engel."

"You are incurable," she laughs.

"That's what they say."

Perhaps it's a joke, but the word they makes her briefly wonder if he has had this kind of affairs with other women, too. Perhaps she's not so special after all. The image of him fucking other women with abandon breeds a stale, bitter putrefaction in her stomach.

Has he called them angels too…?

Her hands are about his neck, but she has no memory of throwing them there. She wishes she could just dangle from him the rest of the day until he carries her to bed and does all the things he just promised he would do. Let her do all those things to him while he gets to watch – watch how well she can take him, ride him, suck him.

She makes a silent promise to herself and to him that she will be the special girl, no matter the cost.

"Do you want coffee? I just made some," she asks in hopes that he would stay for a little while longer even if he isn't supposed to be here in the social spaces of the maintenance personnel.

"Sure. I would love that."

The man wants his coffee dark, and it only makes her smile as she pours him that minimalistic, unsweetened beverage. She likes his knives dark, his hood dark, his shirts dark… Perhaps she should start wearing black dresses.

"You left your knife in my room."

"For you," he tilts his head a little, wanting to know if she likes his gift. Has he given knives to other women, too, after he's fucked them…?

"Thank you. It's incredible."

"Good combat knife," he nods. "Doesn't reflect light."

If someone was here with them right now, they would probably roll their eyes at how deranged this conversation is. What rotten lunatics they both were.

She’s completely flushed, and smiling like an idiot from receiving a fat, vile knife as a present after having been fucked into oblivion twice last night.

"Well, it reminds me of you."

He looks at her, searching for deceit or ridicule, but there is none.

"That's how you see me..?"

"Mm-hm," she hums with sudden lightness. "Incredible."

His eyes betray the same look he had when he came inside her last night: brief, fragile, naked hope. Her next smile is sadder because obviously, this guy didn't receive compliments often. She's watering a dry desert plant with a single, simple word, and his eyes light up like he's just received years and years worth of good care.

He steps forward and looks like he is finally about to sit at the table. The obsessed look has melted into pure adoration: it's even more knee-buckling than the possessive stare that has followed her for weeks.

One of the maintenance officers arrives to get a cup of coffee in a hurry; a man whose name she doesn't even care to remember, whose world seems to consist mainly of stress. He’s a typical, middle-aged, burned-out man who doesn't appear to remember how to cherish the little things – such as a good cup of coffee – but rushes by everyone and everything and blames them for his stress. She always feels pity for both people and inanimate objects that get to suffer from this man’s exhaustion.

But she doesn't even see him now: all she sees is the fierce operator who is not supposed to be here. The giant who looks at her equally as mesmerized, like everyone else has ceased to exist in this world.

The air is teeming with naked lust and barely contained, sweet hunger, but the poor officer is blind to all of that. A sudden warmth gushes on her chest as the man bumps into her while rushing by with his overfilled coffee mug. She might as well be invisible again, and the hot liquid burns, but it has no power to make her angry or sad.

“Oh–excuse me,” she chirps with a dreamy smile on her face when it’s all his fault that she has coffee all over her shirt.

Before the man gets to the door, König grabs him by the collar and hurls him against the wall. She doesn’t even catch the knife before it plunges inside a round stomach like the worker is merely a balloon to be punctured.

The blade comes away all red, then disappears into the flesh again, and again and again… She loses count after six; the knife sails inside the same hole like he’s fucking the man with the blade. The slick sounds remind her of their intense love-making last night, they taint the passion in the most twisted way.

More hot coffee ends up splashing on her thighs before the sound of a mug smashing into tiny little pieces on the floor tells her that all innocence is lost.

Her gaze is glued to the black and red mush that used to be a polo shirt and a stomach: the man stays upright only because he is not allowed to collapse to the ground. But after a few seconds that seem to last hours, he is shoved to the floor in a sad heap.

She’s still staring at the now dead man when König takes a small step toward her. It occurs to her that both her palms are over her mouth only after she raises her eyes to his, and sees that he had expected some other reaction than this.

Her hands won’t descend; they try to keep all her horror inside, try to reassure her that this is only a dream, she hasn’t woken up yet, and the relief will be immense once she does.

But that never happens.

It’s real, and she would give anything to go only a few minutes back in time where the man was still alive and König was not everything she always feared he was.

He is looking at her with bewildered confusion, then the corner of his eye twitches, just once. He forces the blade back into its sheath without wiping the blood off: a telltale sign that he is more than thrown off balance.

Her horror and disgust escort him out the door in a tornado-like state, and she is left alone with two spilled coffees and a bleeding corpse, wondering who will clean the mess because she cannot for her life do it.

. . . . . .

The shock leaves her body cold and weak as she sits on a bench in the hallway, too distracted to carry on with her day, too afraid to go into her lonely room. It feels safer to remain in a public space, even if people who pass her by look at her with pity and confusion.

She cried her eyes and heart out after the shaking receded. She understands now why shock is such a dangerous state to be in. She always thought it a lie that people could die from shock, but not anymore.

Other people cleaned the mess, after the investigation. How she was able to stay so calm and collected during the questioning is a miracle on its own. What came after was an empty, bleak abyss.

She’s still staring at the floor after the buzzing around her quiets down. Minutes or hours pass by, the work day is over, steps fade away, doors close, people leave.

“Now now… What's the matter here lass?”

It’s the Scottish dude, unbearably benign, and looking like he’s actually caring about why she looks so devastated.

So, the other operators haven’t yet heard.

She doubts if König will receive much more than a scolding for what he did, high-ranked and fiercely dedicated to his work as he is. The man’s simply too valuable to be thrown away. They will just blow enough money to cover this shit right up.

This is not a regular army, and these are not regular people.

Soap sits down next to her, and she doesn’t even mind. At least he’s normal. At least something in this world is still intact, and smiling kindly.

"König did–König did something terrible."

She snobs and snivels, nose clogged and numb, eyes still burning from the tears. Soap looks at her with unadulterated concern, then pity. His brows knit together and he swallows before sighing profoundly.

"Right. What did he do now?"

When she only continues to stare at the floor, Soap raises a hand and starts to rub her back. Rather forcefully, to make it clear that he's not making a pass at her.

“Did he do something to you?”

She shakes her head slowly, because technically, it’s the truth. He didn’t knife her down.

Soap doesn’t ask any further questions. He must know without telling that König has done something bad, something fucking foul even if she hasn't been at the receiving end of it.

"Wanna hear my advice? Just stay away from that guy. Don't talk to him, don't pay attention to him."

The hand on her back stops as he thinks of more advice to give her while her heart grows cold and lonely.

"Just pretend that he doesn't exist."

It’s another punch in the gut to hear that she, the invisible girl, should simply return to her invisibleness and condemn König to nonexistence, too. To cast him out and send him even further into exile. To pretend that he had never been inside her, never brought her gifts.

The hand disappears, but then she feels padded gloves on her chin. She's too tired to flinch, and the hand gently coaxes her to turn her head and look back at the Scottish sunshine.

"Now… Give me a little smile, lass. It can't be that bad."

He’s not flirting with her.

She’s far too plain for Soap.

Or at least, that’s how she feels: unattractive, to men like him. To twinkling brown eyes, a perfect jawline, good jokes and outgoingness… She's had a few admirers but König is the only man who has looked at her like she’s nothing short of a goddess.

Soap, however, is the only one who came to clumsily cheer her up from the slump that witnessing a violent stabfest has sent her in. Everyone else just rushed by with feigned hurry. Every kindness she receives, she usually returns tenfold… But kindness is also a burden. Under the surface, she mainly wants to get rid of Soap; wants just to be left alone. Finally go back to her room and cry herself to sleep.

So she gives him a smile, shy enough to make him believe it’s genuine.

"There we go," he smiles back like an innocent sun, and behind him, in the darkening hallway, she catches the approaching giant: a black hood and under that, a bone-searing blue gaze.

"Wait–wait, wait!"

She darts from the bench, between Soap and him, like her lithe little body is enough to shield John MacTavish from a murderous titan.

If a man who spills coffee on her deserves to be stabbed more than a dozen times, what will happen to a man who has dared to touch her and make her smile?

"Don't,” her hand meets the steel of König's chest, and the blood drunk Goliath actually stops.

“Don’t, König, please."

The ice-cold gaze drops to her, and there’s such a range of emotion behind those blues that she has a hard time catching even half of the storm raging inside her maniac.

Soap rises from the bench behind her: the rustle of clothes and the squeak of gear tell her as much.

"Caught the girl crying,” he says with poorly disguised trepidation in his voice. “Now I don't know what you have done but maybe you should apologize."

Soap’s bravery is admirable. The flash of rage that is sent behind her could scald flesh from bones.

She presses herself against König, hugs his middle, tries to guide his attention elsewhere.

Just let the him go, please, no more…

Soap could perhaps defend himself for a while, but she doubts if the Austrian war machine would stop even when he’s shot full of holes.

Gargantuan arms go around her like a cage: she’s his, and forever will be. The true cost of being cast out from heaven is heavier than she had ever imagined; the tears that arise are born from a deeper trauma than that of witnessing a homicide in her quiet little break room.

. . . . .

König waits as she goes to have a shower. He follows her like a dark cloud as she goes to throw her work clothes, stained with coffee and the memory of blood, to the washing machine. He waits with statuelike composure as she finally sits on her bed, hair still dripping wet and leaving damp stains on her cute little white dress.

Wearing white seems like an abomination right now.

"I told you I don't want you to hurt people," she says quietly while watching how the water gathers at the tip of the strings of hair and tip-tip-tips on her dress and hands.

The man says nothing to defend himself. All the rage and fury is gone, his shoulders are tense, high up in the sky, almost in his ears. He’s shielding himself, and it makes her confused – clearly, he feels empathy, so why is he like… like this?

"I don't think you understand,” she swallows, heart beating more calmly now. He’s not going to plunge a knife in her, that much is certain. But still…

"I'm afraid of you."

She raises her stare: a powerful accusation, a woman's weapon. His head pulls back – he's surprised at this newfound nerve.

"I'm afraid of you, König," she emphasizes, much louder now. The declaration rings so true that it leaves her breathless and free, even powerful.

He, on the other hand, is a paralyzed beast. A golem stripped of the magical word that makes him a soulless robot. His eyes betray fear of loss for the first time, real, actual fear. He steps toward her, and when she doesn’t stop him, walks slowly to where she’s sitting.

He falls to one knee, slowly, so slowly – like she's a bird about to fly off. It pulls at her heart, it rattles the cage of her ribs. The frigid padding of his gloves touch her cheek, and she surrenders an inch or two. Maybe more than that.

She doesn’t know who lifts the mask, he or she, but her lips meet his desperate ones under all that black.

"I'm afraid of you…"

She whispers it on his lips, in his mouth, although she’s not afraid anymore. She’s pissed, and somewhat in love, and addled, shaken, ruffled to her core.

The kiss turns into a hungry one when he notices she’s not meaning what she says. Before long, she's on her knees too, and he's devouring her until she finds herself in his arms, being gently set on the floor. A trembling hand disappears under the hem of her dress, and the fabric comes up with it as he travels up her thigh.

But the only thing that’s wet right now is her hair, everything else is parched dry, locked up, sealed like the tomb of Tutankhamun, and there are curses in store for the one who will try to enter with force. Hell, even with a trembling, delicate hand.

And it’s not because she can’t get aroused – she could, in mere minutes with him – but because she’s not wet at the very instant he’s in her presence, that makes her grab the hand currently trying to get some solace from her.

"No."

He stops but doesn’t move that hand away. He’s panting in her mouth: needy, and in a whirlpool of despair. The only thing that can make him feel better is her wetness, which she cannot provide him.

The hand probes; it forces its way up just an inch.

"No."

She's relentless, and he finally draws his hand away, only to place it hesitantly and with an immense amount of grief, on her waist. She feels tiny under that giant palm.

"I'm not your plaything," she whispers, even finds the courage to shoot a tiny glare his way.

The hand does not apply pressure. If anything, it grows lighter and lighter with the fear of scaring her away.

"I made a mistake, Engel," he breathes. "You're not a toy."

Her eyes must betray both her hurt and longing because the man ups the stakes immediately.

"I'll give you anything you want," he tries: so desperately, so seriously that it sounds quite ridiculous.

"Can you just go," she whispers while a tear or two push out from the corner of her eyes. They’re hot as hell because they’re born of odd love.

"Engel–"

"Just leave."

The fingers on her waist curl, they grab her dainty little dress like it’s his only gateway to heaven. He releases the fabric soon enough, then grabs it again and lets out an agonizing sound.

Just go, go, please just leave me be…

She wants him to understand that there are consequences to his actions, and at the same time, she wants him to just hold her, to fix everything and fix her. It doesn't take the bitter taste of betrayal off her tongue to realize that she always knew what he was. She knew.

He rises to his feet, paces around a few times, more and more confused, distressed like a tortured animal. She sniffs and curls into a fetal position, hoping that he would just leave, and at the same time, hoping that he would brush off her demands and just hug her.

"I can't," he finally wails as if he can hear even her thoughts. "You're crying…”

It breaks her heart into million pieces – how can the same man stress and fuss about her tears when just hours ago, he had murdered some innocent man in cold blood?

He comes to the heap of her again, falls to his knees, then caresses her arm so softly that at first she thinks she’s just imagining the touch.

"Little angel," he tries.

Her following sob is like that of a child's. Why does he have to be so perfect and at the same time, such a–

"I know that I'm a monster."

Her eyes want to fly wide open, but she keeps them shut. He's self-aware, so much so that it hurts. He pets her more neurotically now; it's almost as if he's comforting himself and not her.

"Don't send me away," he begs, then curls behind her in an awkward spooning, holds and rocks her gently as she cries some more. After the catharsis that lasts for good long minutes, he gathers her like a doll in his arms and carries her to the bed so she doesn't have to lie on the cold, hard floor.

"I'll make it better," he says again and again as he caresses her and strokes her hair, "I promise I'll make it better…"

“Just go,” she cuts him off with a whisper.

He leaves eventually, after some more pacing and a few sighs, and she understands that he actually cared for her all this time: otherwise, he would've just taken what he wanted.

She slips into a dream, a soft oblivion where everything is well and summer is at its peak. They hold hands and stroll through the freshly cut grass, birds are singing, and he has no mask.

Taglist:

@ghostinvenus @konigsleftkidney @stillinracooncity @valenspuppy @koionthewalls

[exhaslo]

Since Puzzle Pieces is a favorite piece of mine from your writing could you dk like a mini side story about reader and mafia!miguel raising a family together especially with reader navigating finding herself

MORE SIDE CONTENT!!! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOO

Warning: Minors DNI, some smut, mentions of sex, mentions of murder, mentions of bullying

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

"Mama, mama, mama! Wanna play at park, please, please, please?!"

Unable to resist the adorable look your oldest son was giving you, you caved.

"Alright, sweetie. Why don't you pick out an outfit while I call daddy to let him know, okay?"

You smiled brightly as the toddler cheered before running off to his room. It has been a few years into your relationship with Miguel and you couldn't be happier. The two of you had three beautiful children...and counting according to Miguel.

Your oldest son, Gabriel, was four; the second child, Gabriella, was two; and the last child, Kron, was only a few months old.

Humming lowly as you took your two youngest children to your room, you placed them on the bed before calling Miguel. Ever since your children were born, Miguel took extra caution whenever you would go out.

It was thanks to an incident when you and Lyla went out for some clothes shopping when Gabriel was about five months old. One of the other mafia families had the nerves to kidnap the three of you for ransom. Miguel did not take it lightly and ended up killing that new form mafia family.

"Hey, Miggy, I'm taking the kids to the park. Little Gabriel was just too cute to say no too," You said with a giggle.

"Aye, mi amor (my love), you must show some restraint with him."

"I know, I know."

"I'll send some men over. How are you doing today?" Miguel asked, wanting to make sure his wife was in good health.

"I'm okay, Migs-"

"AHHHHH PLEASE!"

"Are you okay? Another mafia group bothering you?" You asked after hearing the screams in the background. Miguel just chuckled softly,

"Not reason a bother, more like an insect. But don't worry, mi amor, they will be squashed in a moment. After I'm done here, I should be able to go home early."

"Maybe you could join us at the park, hehe," You said with a smile as you finished changing Gabriella.

"Daddy!"

"Yes, Gabi, your daddy might join us~"

"Now I have to finish early. I'll see you soon."

With that, Miguel hung up. You continued to change your youngest before laughing at how Gabriel dressed. Once finished, you had to fix your oldest clothing. With the three finally ready to go, you waited for Migue's men to appear.

You loved Miguel. He was still ever so kind and gentle with you. Your stuttering had calmed down with his help, although, you do get the occasional nerves, especially with new people. If anything, your children were the biggest reason for you to try and get better.

You wanted them to look up to you. Miguel was not only a powerful mafia boss, which the kids won't know about, but also one of the world's most powerful CEO. Compared to Miguel, you were just a small little bunny.

The thought made you sorrow. You wanted to do something with your life as well, but what? You've spent a good portion being bullied and ridiculed by both your parents and your ex boyfriend. Hell, if it wasn't for Miguel, you might not be here.

"Mama, the Peters are here!" Gabriel cheered.

Chuckling lowly towards your son's cute group name, you opened the door for the Peters. Jessica was there as well and greeted you and the small children.

"Hey, how's everything going?" You asked, wanting to get your mind off of your failures.

"Good. My kid's causing a ruckus in school every now and then. Wished, he got more of his father than me," She said with a laugh.

"Awe, I don't even want to think about sending Gabriel to school. I'll miss him too much!"

"Girl, with how Miguel is, he'll give you another baby." Jessica said with a wide smirk causing you to blush.

Miguel would.

--------

You were tired. You were sitting on one of the park benches, watching Kron as your other two children played. The Peters were watching the two children like a hawk while Jessica helped you with your youngest. Even with the help, you felt drained from other parents watching you.

It brought you back into your thoughts of what you wanted to do with your life. You had been through so much trauma that you could write a book, but would anyone read it? Would it be too depressing for other people?

"Excuse me, are all these men with you? You're making the other parents feel uncomfortable," A woman spoke while approaching both you and Jessica.

"O-Oh," You flinched, "S-Sorry...um-"

"Her husband worries a lot. They are her and her children's bodyguards, do mind yours." Jessica huffed.

"Well, it's still making everyone uncomfortable!"

You felt your heart sink. You couldn't even stand up for yourself against other parents. What were you going to do when your children went to school?

"My apologies, then perhaps we shall find another park for our children to play at."

Miguel placed his hand against your back, smiling casually towards the irate woman. It was instant that the parents gasped upon realizing who Miguel was. They immediately said it was fine as people tried to approach Miguel.

"And here we go," Miguel said with a heavy sigh. You smiled towards your husband,

"I'm sure the kids played enough for today,"

"DADDY!!!!"

"See?" You giggled as the two children ran towards Miguel.

Miguel laughed as he picked up his children. His loving gaze towards his family made you swell with joy. As long as Miguel supports whatever you want to do, you will be happy. Hell, knowing Miguel, he would make everyone in his mafia to buy your book, puzzle or whatever you do.

"Ready to go home?" Miguel asked his kids. They whined in response, "Mommy and Daddy have important work to do."

You felt your cheeks warm up as you looked at Miguel in protest. Using sex as an excuse for important work was going to get old eventually. You whined in turn as your children agreed to Miguel's ridiculous lie.

--------

"Tell me, (Y/N), what's been on your mind lately?" Miguel asked with a hum as he pressed your body against the bed, his cock reaching the deepest part of your gummy walls.

"M-Miggy, n-no fair," You whined as he held your legs over his shoulders, "I-I can't think...l-like this."

"Sure you can,"

With a thrust of his hips, you gasped and moaned his name. Your body melting against his touch and pussy clenching around his dick. No matter how many times Miguel would fuck you, it still brought you to nirvana each time.

Whimpering as Miguel's thrusts grew faster and rougher, you couldn't hold your voice back. You arched your back, whining and moaning as Miguel slapped against that sweet spot of yours.

"There's my little bunny. Wanna tell me what's wrong, amor?" Miguel whispered in your ear as he pressed you into mating position.

"Mhm~" You wanted to protest, but how could you? "I-I...ah~ I want...t-to do something...mhm~ with my l-life-"

"Amor,"

Miguel whispered softly, pulling you in for a kiss as you confessed. His thrusts were slow and sweet as he held you closely.

"Hah~ Ah~ M-Maybe...I...I could w-write a b-book."

"I'll support whatever you do, (Y/N). Just say the word and it's yours."

"Mhm~"

You wrapped your arms around Miguel as the two of you continued your 'important work'.

--------

Once all of your children were asleep, you sat in the living room, typing away on a laptop Miguel bought for you. Miguel approached you from behind, placing a cup of hot tea on the table. You smiled as he took his spot beside you, kissing your shoulder.

"Have you decided what you want to do?" Miguel asked softly. You rested your head against his,

"Well, I want to write about what I went through. Maybe...it will help other people try and get out of their similar fate....and I want to make learning puzzles for kids."

"Hm, seems like my wife has a busy schedule ahead of her." Miguel's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you onto his lap, "Just let me know and I'll help anyway I can."

"Thank you, Miguel." You titled your head and kissed him sweetly, "I love you."

"I love you more,"

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

I hope you enjoyed! Puzzle Pieces is always fun to write! Also, you all might like my new series:

Over-Time

@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddi @openup-yourmind @black-swan-blog27 @xstarsdiary @kiddisquacking @gachagator @yujyujj @emmyrxx @blackteamint @sockears @black-swan-blog27 @soraya-daydreams @byjessicalotufo @nanoinn @bunnibitez @aockskcw @l3laze @dimitri-needs-therapy

[imshymorph]

Here’s soft!price, i’m sure you missed him or at least i did. Of course as soon as i say i’ll write and post about ghost i get ideas for everyone and their mother and write those instead.

I believe that sometimes, when John is away for a mission and struggles to fall asleep, he thinks back to moments in your relationship.

Like now, it had been at least an hour since he had left the rec room where the rest of the task force had been chatting after supper. He had gotten ready for bed and finally found a comfortable position. And yet here he was, still awake despite how tired he really felt.

And just like any other time he had the chance to, he let himself think of you. First he was thinking about how you'd probably be knocked out by now, for sure falling asleep while the two of you watched a movie on the couch and cuddled.

- - - - -

How he'd pause it so you wouldn't miss anything, pick you up carefully to not wake you and carry you to bed. Hold you close and pull the covers around you both before pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a soft "i love you".

A little amused smile appeared on his lips when those three little words made him jump onto a different memory. One that you referred to as "the unofficial first i love you".

It had started when John received a call from the hospital, not giving the nurse the chance to say more than your name and at what desk he should ask to see you before he was fleeing base and coming to you (even if at that time you hadn’t been together for that long).

To this day you defend how overly dramatic he was, sure you had been in the ER, but it had been "just" because of a minor concussion. You had wanted to snack on some chocolate covered almonds while watching your show, but when you went to get them you had realised the little container had been pushed to the farthest part of the cupboard. Even in your tiptoes, your fingers only grazed the container, not getting enough of a grip to pull it forward.

Determined to have your snack you had gotten a step stool (which John had been happy to hear because he had worked really hard on getting rid of your dumb habit of climbing on the counter). What you hadn’t noticed was that the damned kitchen faucet had been leaking again. So when you got on it and leaned forward, the stool slid back, the movement making you bend forward and smack your head on the cupboard’s edge. After feeling dizzy you had called for a cab and gotten to the ER. And there you were, waiting for him to pick you up.

He had gotten leave for the first few days and kept to deskwork for a couple weeks after to make sure he was available were anything else to happen. He was glad he had done so, as the first week had mainly been you on bedrest with a killer headache, feeling dizzy nearly every time you sat up, almost nauseated whenever you had to walk to the bathroom.

He now was able to admit to himself without guilt that, despite how much he hated the circumstances (the faucet didn’t have the chance to be leaky again from then until you moved in together to the house you now share. And your step stools have grippy stickers on the feet) he loved the perfect excuse it gave him to baby you and hold you all day. Which had led to the memory that made him smile every time.

“John, I'm bored… Talk to me about something.” You murmured, your head resting on the crook of his neck to shield your eyes from the light that managed to filter through the curtains. “Anything, really.”

“Hmm, let me think.” He murmured, his gruff and low voice surprisingly being of help with your headache, giving you something to focus on instead of the pain. “I actually thought about this last week… You haven’t been to France, have you? Maybe when you recover we could plan a weekend trip to Paris.”

He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you chuckle, although it withered a bit when a small pained whimper followed, the pair flaring at the effort. “I’m okay.” You reassured almost instantly, “I just hadn’t expected the topic to be France.”

A low chuckle left him as well, “well, you said I could talk about anything, love.” He justified it with a small self-pleased smile before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Need me to bring anything to help with the pain?”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured softly, adjusting a bit in his arms. “Don’t change topics now, you were promising to take me on a trip.” you say lightheartedly, earning a small laugh from him. “I’m making a big effort here to recover, I better get something good after.”

He chuckled again, one hand moving to rub your back, making you smile against his neck. “Making the effort for me or for the trip, doll?” He teased, but he froze when your answer came, his heart beating faster than he could admit and the warmth on his cheeks luckily hidden by his beard.

“For you, of course.” It had been so simple, and yet he had to stare at the ceiling for a full minute to recover from it, feeling like his heart could jump out of his chest at any moment. And before he could realise, he had gently held your chin and pulled back a bit to look you in the eye.

“I hope you don’t tease me for the rest of our lives for saying this now, but… I love you, I love you so much.” His words had left in a soft murmur, his eyes matching your widening ones as you both processed the moment.

A small shaky breath left you and despite your prominent headache you lunged forward, pressing your lips to his in what he still considered one of the best kisses he had ever received (the list was pretty long but all of them classified after the one on your wedding). “I love you too.” you had said softly as you pulled back, just to immediately slap his shoulder. “But why tell me now, you twat. I’m stuck in bed, we can’t do anything cute like a date night.”

It had caused him to chuckle then and it did now as he adjusted his pillow and pulled the covers a little higher. The official version according to you was a month later, when you both had snuck away for a weekend to the Paris trip he had promised. You had planned an incredibly cliché day out but pretty much none of it had worked out when a storm had drenched the whole city. Somehow you had found yourself taking cover in a quaint and cosy jazz club where you had spent all night chatting away in a small booth.

He could still remember the adoring look in your eyes when he had turned back to you after ordering new drinks for you both. And when you had leaned in and said those three little words, he had known he had been right to say it a month before. His heart soaring and his whole body thrumming in delight when he whispered it back before kissing you.

With a soft smile and a quiet murmur of I love you, John passed his thumb over the wedding band that hung around his neck along with his dog tags before finally falling asleep.

[hollyhoneybear]

【 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 】 - being athy's big sister

remember, requests are open !

Athanasia was very weary of you, at first.

In Lovely Princess, you were an impartial character. You treated both Athanasia and Jennette the same, never favoring one more than the other.

At first, you did speak out agaist the claims of Athanasia poisoning Jennette. However, when the fake evidence was presented, you could only side with the law.

The novel didn't expand much on your personally.. You were just Jennette's beloved big sister, and Claude's first daughter.

So she was surprised when almost every day, without fail, you would come running to her nursery, begging whatever maid that was half-hazardly watching Athy to let her play with you.

Although only a few years older than Athy, you did more than the maids every did (aside from Lillian, of course). You happily bottle fed her, read her books, played toys with her.

Still, Athy kept her guard up with you. You'd think she's cute now.. but when Jennette comes along, you'd leave her side just like in the novel.

...

At 10 years old, your little sister was 5. After your persistant efforts, Athy had slowly let down her guard around you. It was alright to relax for now.. right?

Your days before Claude were blissful. You'd sneak Athy chocolates, bake sweets together while the maids gushed over how cute you both were. You'd spend hours in the flower fields braiding wildflowers.

At some point, you basically began living in the ruby palace. You'd crawl into bed with Athy at night, holding her against you as Lily read you both a bed time story.

Every single night a kiss was placed on her small forehead, and you both slept soundly in each other's company.

But that changed when Claude appeared.

...

Both something that you and Athy could agree on was that Claude was.. unknown to you both. He wasn't exactly a good father to either of you.

Still, you saw the opportunity for your family to become closer, so you jumped at the chance!

Every day you were in Claude's office begging him to have a tea party with Athy and her.

Every day you would ask for a bit of money to get Athy a gift - and then of course, suggest he should get her one as well.

Slowly, over time, you three bonded and became closer (even if Athy didn't want to admit it).

When Athy started drowning that one day, Claude watched as you nearly jumped in after her. But he grabbed you by your ankle before you could jump in, instead fishing his hand in to get her out himself.

That surprised you both. You were excited, while Athy was freightened.

Things really changed when Athy had that near-death scare, though. You three were having one of your usual tea parties, when Athy started spitting up blood.

The last thing she saw was you rushing to her side, and Claude staring at you both in shock.

...

After that incident, everything changed. Well - things stayed similar. You three had tea, ate dinner together, went on boating trips. But things just felt.. different.

You both could see the way Claude looked at you two had changed. You were cherished. And while you weren't super caught off guard about it, Athy certainly was.

Every day you were carrying her to Claude's office, and spent almost the whole day in there coloring, playing, or talking to Claude.

Claude started giving you both gifts.

When you appeared at his office one day with Athy, dressed in these adorable matching outfits Lily got for you both, Claude nearly choked at how cute his daughters were.

You three were getting closer, as if you were a real family.. and Athy felt like she could finally, really, relax.

...

As you both got older, your dynamic changed a little, but you were stiill very close.

You helped Athy with everything for her debutante. Choosing decorations, jewelery, makeupstyles to do, dresses to wear, you were involved in every step. And she couldn't have loved it more!

Compared to Athanasia's original debutante, the event didn't feel like an upcoming battlefield, but instead a day to celebrate with her family ....in front of a bunch of nobles, but we'll skip that.

She insisted that you were a dress that matched her's somewhat.

As a teenager, she's much more protective over you. Her darling, angelic older sister, she couldn't just let someone take advantage of you!

Definitely starts getting jealous when you start spending more time with your friends, or your lover.

Despite her fears, you never "left her side" for Jennette. You were always cordial towards her, but Athy was always your first priority.

When Jennette's identity was eventually revealed, despite the ongoing turmoils, you tried to act like family to Jennette, but that sister bond with Athy was a bit different.

And even if it was a little selfish.. she was immensely greatful for that. You were the only person to be on her side since day one.

You were always there during the hardest times for Athy. Even when she ran away, she couldn't bare to see you in distress, so she would visit you every night and keep you updated.

On one occasion, she snuck you out to meet Jennette..

..And it was wonderful! You three spent the night drinking tea, eating cute cookies, and chatting the night away.

It relieved you that, even though Athy wasn't home, she was still safe.

...

By the time Claude got his memories back, you three had the strongest relationship you'd ever had before.

You were.. a real family.

After everything with Anastacius was over, the topic of inheritance came about.

You were, by a good few years, the eldest.. and therefore, the rightful heir to the throne.

You expressed right away that you'd love for Athy to become Empress. But that's where she stops you!!

You've done everything for her in this life. If you weren't here.. she wasn't sure if she'd even be alive, let alone in Obelia.

So after much deliberating, it was agreed that you would be the next Empress of the Obelian Empire.

...Which meant, you had to hang out with Athy a lot less. It was torture for you both.

The bright side was that Athy got to involve herself in all aspects of the planning. She wanted you to have the best coronation, so she deemed herself in charge of the matter, along with Claude of couse. But she'd act like the boss because it's Athy

She helped you pick out a dress, decide on the hairstyle. You two spent countless nights doing makeovers on each other, because she wanted to try different makeup styles on you, and you wanted to try similar looks on her so that you were matching on the special day.

When the day came.. it was magcial.

You were surrounded by your loving little sister, your proud father, the friends you had made, and the empire that adored you.

Although Athy wasn't going to be Empress, you made sure to communicate to her that you two would stay as close as you always had.

Despite her original fate, Athanasia had earned her place of ultimate safety and happiness; right by her big sister's side.

[bookofbonbon]

strut: to the hospital - coriolanus snow

Characters: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Summary: Coriolanus is 'stuck' in hospital with you while the two of you await your uncle and aunt.

Word Count: 659.

A/N: There is no plot, rhyme or reason to this fic. I'm making it up as I go along and using this as a way to get back into writing. This is very self-indulgent and I am writing whatever comes to mind.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Coriolanus exhales loudly through his nose, eyes screwed shut as he pinches the bridge between his thumb and forefinger.

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

“Self-control is an essential skill. Self-control is an essential skill…” he reminds himself, having re-adopted the six word mantra some three weeks ago. 

The Grandma’am may not have been around so frequently as to help him practice it but, you? You had been more than making up for her absence since your arrival. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Did you know... Coryo, that talking to oneself may indicate an underlying madness?” 

Coriolanus’s eyes snap open at the implication. Your voice nails on a chalkboard in his ears, the sound causing him an immediate headache that he didn’t need - although your presence alone was enough to do that -  was it not enough that you had attempted to murder him? Now you insisted on taunting him with the name he reserved only for friends, family and those he loved - all things you were not but, anyone on the outside looking in would think you were. 

Tap. Tap. Tap. 

Coriolanus turns his head mechanically toward you but you pay him no mind, too busy flicking through whatever book you were pretending to read - Forensic Firearm Examinations, he reads the title with a scoff. Now what would you be doing with a book like that? Were you trying to impress him? Did you even know how to read?

No matter, he saw through your little facade; he knew the truth, that you were out to get him and he would prove it in a little less than five minutes. In truth, he had no reason to still be  gowned up and laying  down in the hospital bed. Coriolanus, by all accounts had escaped your attempted murder unscathed and had in fact been medically cleared for discharge but, he pulled some strings and extended his stay so, that he could play up his false injuries to old Strabo and Ma Plinth when they arrived; so they could see for themselves the ruin their horrendous niece attempted to inflict upon him. Maybe then, they- more so, old Strabo would see that you did not belong in the Capitol and banish you back to where you came from. District Two. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“Has no one taught you it’s rude to stare? And I thought you Capitol lot were supposedly provided with an elite-”

Without thought, Coriolanus hand comes down hard and fast with a resounding thwack! against the table.

He watches you intently, your head turning slowly away from your book and over to his hand that now rests atop yours, promptly ending your tapping and your sentence. There’s tension in your jaw as your gaze drags venomously from your joined hands to meet his eyes, your mask is slipping and in turn his mouth curves into a victorious grin but, not for long when your expression begins to match his.

“Self-control is an essential skill, Coriolanus,” you mock, turning his hand over with your own and touching the center of his palm lightly before standing up. “Seems you need a little bit more practice.”

The action is small but sends an oddly pleasant feeling through him, leaving him both speechless and mouth gaping, slightly forgetful of how to breathe until four figures appear at the end of the room.

Coriolanus immediately recognises them as old Strabo, Ma, Tigris and his treating doctor. Kicking himself back into action, his response is immediate as he slumps down into the bed, appearing worse than he actually felt.

"What happened?" Strabo calls from across the room, the question very clearly directed at you.

Coriolanus smothers the Cheshire smile that threatens to appear - how he would love to see you lie your way out of this.

"They didn't tell you?" you say instead, raising an eyebrow at the doctor. "I almost ran dear Coryo over while he was strutting about in the middle of the road."

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2023. All rights reserved.

[doobea]

BORN TO MAKE HISTORY - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: After his brother takes a nasty fall and calls out before the new season starts, Rin has to step up as your new figure skating partner.

✰ ✰ ✰જ⁀➴ PLAYLIST.

contents: an ice skating au fic (very much yuri on ice inspired), fem!reader, ice skating terms and irl figures thrown around but not that super important, lmao probably inaccurate depictions of figure skating, sfw, kinda enemies to lovers but its really just rin being anti-social and cold, sae is a decent brother in here, characters are in their early-mid 20s, talks about ISU grand prix, mentions of mental health (depression, anxiety, burn out, imposter syndrome), heavy narration, rin centric, multiple parts will be added but no set scheduling of course word count: 4.3K (sigh there will be more) a/n: you know... whenever i feel like i hit a writer's block... thinking about rin always helps me break out of it so thank u...

For as long as Rin can remember, he's always followed in his brother's footsteps. 

Whatever that meant being interested in the same shows, books, and sometimes even hobbies, Rin would always be one step behind. It was a long-time habit that he picked up ever since he was little. There was a small running joke that if you wanted to find Rin, all you needed to do was find Sae. If anyone were to ask him why, he would probably shrug and refuse to answer, though his parents would gush on about how much he looks up to his older brother, and… it’s not a complete tall tale. 

His brother is talented and not in a ‘he can totally balance a stack of rocks in one try’ type of talented—though Rin is pretty sure that Sae can do that—but in a ‘he’s born with a natural gift to be absolutely perfect at everything he touches’ type of talented. So, regardless if Rin is always one step behind his brother, he knows deep down that it will always be Sae standing on the very top of the podium with a gold medal around his neck. 

Sae delved into figure skating at the age of eight, and Rin quickly followed suit. It began on a family night in, the brothers gathered around their small, worn-out television, fixated on the Winter Olympics in muted colors. Although ice skating initially served as mere background noise while their mother knitted, they both felt an undeniable pull.

Rin was only thirteen when he first won silver at his junior debut competition. In that same year, Sae also moved up to the senior-level groups and gave his first professional appearance during the Japan Figure Skating Championships. Unsurprisingly to no one, Sae effortlessly won gold, putting the whole world on notice and overtaking the competition by over 40 points. From that moment forward, Sae was recruited by an international coach and was sent aboard to different training facilities. 

It burned in Rin’s memories of all the irregular Facetime calls they would have of Sae giving him a walking tour of the cities he stayed in. New York was too loud and bright. Chongqing felt like something out of a fairytale and a cyberpunk city at the same time. Saint Petersburg was too cold but Sae liked grabbing pirozhki from a street food vendor before practice every morning. Despite being only two years older, he sometimes felt like he was worlds away from his brother’s place. 

Still, after everything, Rin looks up to him. It doesn’t bother Rin that he’s always ‘second best’—according to those poorly written sports magazines—because this is something they can bond over, something that only they can understand.

And maybe this is Rin’s motivation to eventually surpass him.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t go exactly how he imagines it. 

“You’re going to sub in for me.” 

Sae is sitting up on his bed, his right leg bandaged tightly all the way up to his knee, and he’s saying this with his usual straight-laced expression. Their mother has always complained about being unable to read Sae’s emotions and Rin always thought it was pretty amusing growing up. But now, he finally understands what his mother was talking about.

Rin straightens his back in his seat, a colorful plastic chair from their childhood that’s now too small for a person his size, and almost drops his phone. “Did you hit your head too?”

His brother rolls his eyes and continues, “I know you’re taking a break this season but I promised one of my juniors that I would compete with them. Luckily,” and he points to his injured leg, “this isn’t a permanent issue but I think it’ll also be good for you.”

Sae’s injury happened during practice overseas at a training facility in Madrid. It’s a mild ankle and knee sprain from overexertion and stress factors from jumping too often. He was treated briefly before their parents suggested flying back to Japan to fully recover. It’s not uncommon for skaters to suffer from these types of injuries but why does Sae feel the need to bring Rin into this? 

During last year’s Grand Prix Final, Rin had barely finished in the top ten. He fumbled with his short program and free skate, failed to land his quad jumps three times, and had a sloppy step sequence, both of which were supposed to be his strong suits. That day, he didn’t bother joining his coach at the kiss and tell, ignored all the swarming paparazzi self-proclaimed journalists, and uninstalled every social media app on his phone. His fans, coaches, and his family were all concerned as to how someone like him was able to fall that low compared to his higher-than-average stats. Rin had blamed it on something he can’t even remember, maybe a stomach bug, he thinks. 

Obviously, that wasn’t the case, everyone could see right through the lie but not entirely the truth of it. News outlets flooded the market with headlines shaming him for not living up to his older brother’s standards, not being a good representative for his nation, and that it was all karma for having an ‘unbearable’ personality to work with. His coaches retired after his flimsy performance and all but two of his sponsorships dropped him. Rin hasn’t officially given out a statement regarding anything. 

Depression is a hell of a thing to deal with. Rin’s dealt with it in the past when Sae first moved aboard. Luckily, Sae is perceptive to this kind of thing. The daily calls helped, despite the harsh timezone differences, and eventually Rin was able to move past it. The reality of it though, is that depression never really fades away, it’s almost like an addiction. Sometimes it takes hold in a moment of weakness, one that Rin doesn’t even realize he has until it’s too late. Maybe it’s all the rigorous training, all the comparisons to his brother—he tries not to think too much about it.

He didn’t know when the feeling hit him or why it decided to affect him that day. 

For the past several months, he’s been spending time gliding around their local ice rink, teaching some kids on the side to keep his mind preoccupied because, if not that, then he’ll probably end up laying in his bed all day. It works and it’s at least a healthy distraction but, at the same time, he can’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest every time someone mentions his last performance. 

Rin feels like he’s hit a wall. A thick, towering, uninviting wall. And he doesn’t know if he’s ready to face his baggage yet.

“I’m not going to do that.” He finally answers and watches as his brother’s face stays unfazed.

“I need you to.” Sae presses on. “You need to get out of whatever rut you’re in. You’re not happy and going back might help. Forget about competing in singles and join pairs.”

Sae might be talented in everything else but, like Rin, he’s bad at choosing his words and comforting. Rin knows what he means though and he can’t exactly blame him. He’s lost weight, most of it being muscle, and whenever he does get back from work, Rin holes up in his room playing horror games all night long. Rinse and repeat. 

At least there’s a level of concern and sincerity behind Sae’s tone, unlike the vulture-like glee from the tabloid reporters.

“I’m…” Rin’s throat feels heavy all of a sudden and he struggles to find an excuse. 

Instead of answering, he fixates his attention back to his phone, it’s a news article about Sae’s injury and his withdrawal from the skating season. The article also has a photo of you posing next to his brother, elbow resting on his shoulder while your other hand raises a peace sign towards the camera. Rin hasn’t heard much about you, not that he actively keeps up with any of his competitors, but Sae has mentioned your name here and there before since you both share the same coach.

From what Rin knows, you started skating around the same age as him. You won a few local competitions and managed a bronze medal in the women’s singles category during the Japan Skating Championships. Supposedly, this year you’re attempting to take a shot at qualifying for the Grand Prix Final for pairs. With Sae out of the picture, Rin really hopes the responsibility doesn’t fall on him.

The look that Sae is currently shooting at him is making him backtrack his thoughts.

“It’ll be good for you,” his brother reiterates. Sae scoots closer to the edge and plucks the phone out of Rin’s grasp. “Plus, I already told her that you would do it.”

Rin’s eyes widen. “You did what?”

Sae hums, and taps his fingers away at the screen, before handing it back to him with your contact information placed in. “She’s actually on her way over here.”

“I haven’t even—”

Sae throws a hand up. “No, you don’t get a choice, Rin.”

Despite being three years younger than Sae, you had no issues barging into his room, suitcase in hand and hair in a frenzy. Rin is still seated, having to process his brother’s ridiculous request and now having to make himself semi-presentable to you. He also eyes the suitcase because… there’s no way that you’re actually staying with them right?

“Hope the flight here wasn’t too rough,” His brother starts casually.

Your cheeks are puffed out, eyes slightly baggy from the presumably restless flight, and you let out an exasperated sigh. “I hope you know that I didn’t tell coach about any of this.”

“Any of what?” Sae asks slowly. Now Rin is internally panicking.

Your eyes fall on him and they sparkle in recognition for a brief moment before you turn your attention back to his brother. “Um, that I flew all the way from Madrid to Tokyo?”

“I thought you said he approved of it.” Sae looks visibly annoyed.

You give a sheepish shrug and try to smile. “Yeah, I might’ve lied a bit.” It looks like you can’t decide if you want to be embarrassed by this fact or want to burst into tears.

Now it’s Sae’s turn to sigh. “Well, you’re already here so there’s no point. I’ll come up with something if Ego asks.”

You’ve made yourself practically at home within the next hour. Sae had told you that you could transform their home office space into your bedroom for the next several months in preparation for the competition, much to Rin’s protests. Right now, your makeshift living space composes of a shitty air mattress that Rin had in his closet since childhood and one of Sae’s extra pillows and blankets. You still need an actual mattress and a bedframe, and Rin doesn’t know if he wants to suggest the local hardware shop down the street. Because, if he does do that, it’ll mean he’ll be accepting his fate for the next upcoming year.

“Are you guys both hungry for dinner? I can whip up something real quick!” You’re saying this as if you’ve been living with them forever. It throws Rin off but Sae is unphased by your informality. 

“Pork katsu curry sounds nice.” Sae muses from the living room couch. He’s streaming a figure skating compilation video from the previous Winter Olympics on the TV while jotting down some notes on his phone. “Why don’t you help her out, Rin?”

“Do I have to?” 

“Yeah,” and Sae lifts his eyes away from the screen to give him a knowing look. “You have to.”

Three protein shakes. A pack of half-eaten grapes. And two boxes of forgotten leftovers from god knows how long ago. There’s not much in Rin’s fridge. His parents have been traveling around the world ever since he got back and usually, Rin would just get himself takeout to save some time. When he rummages through his pantry, he almost feels embarrassed by how barren it feels. A box of cup ramen, some curry cubes, and a small bag of rice on the bottom. It would honestly be better just to order takeout than to bother cooking up something less satisfying. 

“We should—”

“Let’s go to the store!” Of course, you offer that up. Rin can feel his shoulders immediately tensing when he sees you grabbing your jacket and wallet.

Sae throws him another penetrating gaze and Rin recedes. “Give me a second.” And maybe a drink or two.

You’re the complete opposite of what Rin expected. 

Bright, bubbly, and almost downright annoying. It reminds him of how he used to act when he was younger.

The first few minutes of the walk are silent not because Rin doesn’t know what to say but because he doesn’t want to say anything. His mind drifts off to an MMO he’s been currently playing with two of his ‘friends’ that he made during his last competition — if you count only exchanging numbers for the sake of playing games and talking about nothing else. That’s what friends do, right? It’s evening and, if it weren’t for Sae and you, he could be online right now, clearing a dungeon with them. This week is a double drop event and he’s going to miss out on it because you want to buy katsu curry ingredients. 

After passing the third block in the neighborhood, you start to see a few local shops and grocery stores lined up down an alleyway. There are more locals around, some are walking their dogs, others sweeping the sides of their house entrances. You decide to take this time to finally talk to him.

“Who’s your favorite skater?” It comes out as a blurt like you’ve been holding it in.

Rin blinks. “What kind of question is that?”

“A normal one,” You pick up a small shopping cart by the entrance and make a beeline towards the produce section. “Plus it can tell you a lot about a person.”

Can it really? “You first then,” Rin tells you.

You answer without much thought, throwing a couple of apples and potatoes into the cart. “Has to be Nathan Chen! He’s super bold and flashy with his programs.” He’s heard of him before, Rin thinks he’s around the same age as his brother. 

“Yuzuru Hanyu.” He answers right after.

You make a noise, and Rin assumes it’s a good one by the way you’re smiling. “I can definitely see that, he’s really elegant when he skates.”

The two of you fall silent again but it’s a bit bearable. You finish off by buying pork, onions, and a few soft drinks before heading over to the self-checkout. Rin pays for the entirety of the grocery run since it’s mainly his fault for having an empty fridge. If he had kept up with a healthier lifestyle then maybe he wouldn’t be in this current mess.

Dinner, for all things considered, doesn’t go horribly. It’s been months since Rin has picked up a knife, let alone use his cutting board, and you’re nice enough to show him how to properly score meat. And yeah, he just learned what scoring meant outside of sports. He’s learning a lot today. 

Adding apple chunks to the curry really made an immense difference. Tastes a lot sweeter but also comforting. The pork comes out crispy and tender enough for him to easily bite through and practically melts on his tongue. Maybe he should get back into cooking soon.

Sae wipes his mouth before setting down his utensils. “I’ve also taken the liberty to coach you guys too, so don’t let me down.” 

You blink. Rin looks like he’s going to drop his fork on his plate. He seems to catch himself though, and for just a moment. Your heads both tip to the side, and there’s a strange moment of eye contact, one where you are nervously glancing at Sae, and Sae is caught in a strange back-and-forth with Rin.

Yeah, Rin is learning more today compared to the average person.

The next day at the ice rink is a surreal experience for Rin. A year ago, when he did skate professionally, he was used to practicing alone or occasionally sharing the rink with a few other skaters, but now there's a new dynamic—a pair dynamic. You and him. The thought alone sends shivers down his spine, and not the good kind.

Sae is sitting on the side, his injured leg propped up on a chair, and he's observing with a critical eye. Rin can feel the pressure, not just from the expectation of his brother, but also from the fact that you're now involved. His comfort zone has been invaded.

“Let's start with some basic warm-up moves,” Sae suggests, and Rin reluctantly nods. 

The two of you glide on the ice, trying to synchronize your movements to a random classical tune that his brother placed on shuffle. Claire de Lune—he’s warmed up to this song plenty of times before. It's awkward at first, the pacing and speed is off, and you’re both too tensed to initiate physical contact. 

“You need to trust each other,” Sae instructs, his voice echoing in the cold rink. 

Rin shoots him a dirty glare. Trust has never been his strong suit, especially not with someone new.

You decide to break the ice, quite literally, by attempting a lift. Rin braces himself as you come at him with speed, and then, in a moment that feels like slow motion, he lifts you off the ground. Success. You're now spinning in the air, and Rin is holding his breath, hoping he doesn't drop you.

“That was good, Rin!” you exclaim when you land back on the ice.

He's slightly out of breath, both from the physical exertion and the anxiety that came with it. “Yeah, great,” he mutters, avoiding eye contact.

After what seems like an eternity, Rin begins to find a rhythm. It's still not perfect, he’s not used to skinship so he can tell his grip around you is either too firm or barely there. Sae’s a rough teacher and quite possibly the king at micromanaging, the two of you bond quietly over the fact. Rin also learns that you’re pretty good at hydroblading and the Biellmann spin. Well, you’re pretty good at a lot of things. He’s surprised that you haven’t tried out for more international competitions prior.  

By the end of the day, both of you are exhausted—well, you look fine, it’s more like Rin feels like his quads are about to burn off. This is the most he’s done physically and with his career in the last several months. Sae, with his usual unreadable expression, nods approvingly.

“You’ve got potential,” he comments, and Rin is unsure if it's a compliment or just a statement of fact. “So, what’s the theme?”

Right. They need to figure out that first before deciding on anything else. Rin has always struggled with coming up with themes and settles with essentially the same one every year since he feels comfortable with it. The past years he’s played around with ‘solitude’, ‘dormant’, and ‘night’—and all of his programs contained dark, moody instrumentals that went along with it. 

You’re shuffling awkwardly by the benches, fiddling with your gym bag, and raise a hesitant hand. “How do we feel about ‘love’?”

Rin tightens his lips. “Isn’t that kind of vague?”

“Weren’t all of your themes the same?” Sae shoots back and it makes him quiet. “What songs did you have in mind?”

You’re quick to pull out your phone, a playlist pops up with songs that you’ve either wanted to skate or skated to. The song choices aren’t bad, most of them being soundtracks from musicals and pop artists.

“This Love.”

Rin lets out a loud scoff. “Guess you’re into that sappy stuff.” He remembers one of his skating colleagues was floating around the idea of skating to that song when they first jumped into a relationship but decided to shelve it once they found another person.

“It’s a good song,” You say with a huff, to which Rin only rolls his eyes.

“Guys,” Sae claps his hands three times, a signal that Rin recognizes from his earlier childhood days of basically saying ‘shut the fuck up’. “I need you to work together.”

Your index finger jabs into Rin’s ribcage. He manages to hold back every fiber in his body to not yell at you, especially not when Sae is staring right at him. “If you’re going to make a comeback, I think maybe you should get back on social media again to promote!”

“I’ll sleep on it.” He says with a clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“We’ll see you later back home, gonna do a couple of laps around the neighborhood before we end the night.” You’re lacing up your sneakers while Sae grabs his car keys. Rin assumes his brother is just going to be ‘encouraging you’ from the driver’s seat. Classic big brother move. 

“Sure thing,” It’s the tone that says he’s decided. He’s done. End of discussion. Rin just really wants to lay in his bed right now.

As he walks home, Rin mulls over your suggestion and decides to reinstall some of his social media apps. Surprisingly enough, he still remembers his passwords (he definitely does not have the same password for everything, nope) and immediately logs onto Instagram, fighting back the weird twists and turns in his stomach as the app slowly loads.

There are maybe over a hundred notifications in his DMs, most of which are from random strangers giving half-assed ‘advice’ on how he can be a better skater and some messages from people he’s skated against asking how he was doing. He starts from the bottom of his inbox and recognizes a few of their usernames.

itsyoiboi — sent ten months ago are you doing alright? let me know if you need anything

hyo.chigiri — sent nine months ago Just checking up on you. Coach told me that you left.

megugu_skates— sent nine months ago (。┰ω┰。) rinrinrin!!  dont tell me ur quitting for good?? =͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ ﾍ ( ´ Д `)ﾉ (⋟﹏⋞) u have to come back!!

baroushouei — sent eight months ago Hey, get your head out of your ass. We’re all worried about you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Rin semi-appericates the sentiment but he didn’t ask for it. He doesn’t need any of them checking up on him for the sake of it. None of them were ever close to him so why bother?

He eventually reaches back to the top of his inbox. What Rin didn’t expect was to see a message from you.

yn.is.here — sent a week ago um  hi there!! sorry we haven’t officially met before but your brother said you’ll be able to help me compete in skate pairs?? he told me that you’re thinking about coming back this season.  sorry if this comes off as weird!

Ugh, of course, his brother would plan this whole thing behind his back. It doesn’t surprise him, and it explains why any of this is happening. 

When he finally gets back home, he kicks off his shoes and heads straight to his bedroom. Rin plops and eases his back into the mattress, thumb rummaging through his photo album and trying to find a dumb professional photo to post on his page for stupid promotion purposes. He’s about to pick out an old photo from nearly two years ago when your text notification pops up. You sent over ten attachments—guess Sae took photos and videos from today’s practice run.

Rin shifts through the options before settling on a photo with the two of you in it. You’re both gliding side by side, hands barely touching. He looks scruffy, well he looks scruffy in all of them, the smile he tried to make came out more like a scowl, while you look like a complete natural—what’s new? On top of his skating, Rin needs to work on smiling and his skincare routine next.

Rin uploads the picture with a simple caption, ‘im back’, and turns off his notifications. He’ll worry about the lousy reporters tomorrow morning.

[DISCUSSION THREAD] Rin Itoshi's Icy Resurgence, Unraveling the Mystery Girl, and the Journey Without His Brother by [MOD] Dooby

In the world of figure skating, Rin Itoshi is no stranger to both triumphs and challenges. The seasoned skater, known for his graceful performances and technical prowess, recently made headlines by returning to the ice after a brief hiatus. Taking the place of his brother in the figure skating pairs category, Rin has partnered with the talented and rising star, Y/N, to form an unexpected yet promising duo.

[yurio.fan.cl0b] - 17 minutes ago he’s going to make an embarrassment out of himself AGAIN just go back into hiding  [VICChan] - 15 minutes ago Lololol he thinks that piggybacking off another skater it’ll guarantee a gold medal lolol who is even y/n anyway… never heard of her???? [porkkatsu] - 14 minutes ago shes a nobody just like rin *shrugs*  [ISAGINUMBERONE] - 12 minutes ago ^ been a rin itoshi fan since day one — i believe that he’ll make a great comeback!! rin if you’re reading this please ignore the haters!  [itsJJStyleX0X0] - 9 minutes ago are you actually an idiot? there’s no way that they’re going to take gold, not at the level he’s currently at. compared to his brother, rin’s past performance was sloppy and weak. if he’s going to win gold then he’ll probably end up doping himself [SaeItoshisWIFE] - 7 minutes ago Can we please refrain from spreading rumors like this? Doping is a serious accusation to make…

next rink!

a/n: ok... i meant to keep this in my drafts until i finish it but then i realized it would've been like... way too long with the number of scenes i wanted to write.... so here's some content until the next part bleh >:(( i need to fixate on one project at a time but at the same time i love sharing stuff w you guys haha

[joyaphoria]

"it's 10:15 pm," sakusa groans, squinting his eyes at the outline of a figure making a poor attempt at crawling in through his bedroom window.

the best course of action would probably have been to jump out of bed and shove the intruder back out the window, but after the first few times it's happened, sakusa learned to simply accept that you're just never going to be normal.

he only rolls his eyes annoyingly when you get tangled up in your own limbs, leaving you to tumble onto the floor. "omi!" you exclaim as you quickly recover, kicking off your shoes as you throw yourself onto his bed. "i missed you soo much!"

"i was only away for a day," he sighs, biting his tongue before he could add 'clearly not long enough'.

"and still it felt like forever," you whine, sprawling out on his bed. "i was all alone at lunch, it was horrible."

sakusa doesn't bother to point out the fact that you could've eaten lunch with your other friends, because he knows how you feel about them already. 'you know how they are,' you'll say, disapointement clouding your usually cheerful eyes, 'you know what they say about me.'

and although sakusa has always been a straightforward realist, never one to beat around the bush, he'd rather keep his mouth shut than to bring up a topic that he knows would ruin your mood.

"did you eat?" he asks instead, leaning over to flick on the lamp on his bedside table, the tiny bulb lighting up the room.

you nod cheerfully, before pulling out a container of oreos from behind your back. "i brought these for us today, but when i couldn't find you i decided i would just bring them to you instead!"

he doesn't bother to tell you that he’s never liked oreos, the filling far too sweet for him to enjoy. he takes one anyways, carefully pulling apart the cookie and plopping the part without the filing into his mouth.

“no eating on my bed,” he scolds, watching as you freeze, two of the overly sugary treats already stuffed in your mouth. he absently shudders at the thought of micro sized cookie crumbs sprinkled under his sheets, too small to fish out, but just big enough to drive his sensory issues through the roof.

you nod apologetically and finish chewing the cookies in your mouth, placing the plastic container on his bedside table. then, you lie flat on your stomach, plop up your chin on your arms, and stare at him.

“what?” he bites out, pulling his bedsheets up higher to cover his chest, all of a sudden aware of the fact that he was only in his boxers.

you notice the subtle gesture however, and when your eyes quickly dart down to catch his bare shoulders, the corner of your mouth twitches up. 

“omi,” you purr, as your eyes narrow to slits and the smirk he’s unknowingly grown weak for appears.

“you’re absolutely insufferable,” he huffs, picking up one of his pillows and launches it at your head, though you dodge it with your arm.

you push yourself up on all fours, slowly crawling towards him with that same look in your eye, the one that knocks all the air out of kiyoomi’s lungs and leaves him shuddering. still, he refuses to back up or turn away as you reach him, leaning in closer until you’re practically sharing the same air as him.

his heart pounds rapidly as he wills himself to hold out, to keep a straight face even though you’re so, so close, your hands on either side of his hips, your knees between his legs, and your mouth, your mouth—

your eyes dart down to his lips. his eyes dart down to yours.

he shoves you off quickly, scoffing as he lays on his side and yanks the covers up to his neck. “time to go,” he dismisses you, ignoring the way you’re laughing as the heat creeps up his neck and, well, his crotch.

recovering from your fit of giggles, you move to lie on your side to face him, but he interrupts you before you can crawl under the sheets. “no outside clothes under my sheets,” he hisses, shuddering at the thought of all you dirt you would be dragging into his bed, especially considering you came in through his window.

you arch your eyebrow playfully, and just as he’s realizing what he said, you lift your arms and pull your hoodie over your head, revealing the thin — oh so thin — fabric of your tank top, and the fact that you aren’t wearing a bra. kiyoomi doesn’t notice he’s been staring until you pull off your sweatpants in one swift motion, revealing a hidden pair of boxers underneath.

oh my god.

if he was red earlier, he must’ve been a dark shade of purple by now. 

he turns onto his other side, taking in a deep, silent inhale. his best friend. you’re his best friend. “i said to go home,” he repeats, but his head is screaming, begging you to touch him, to hold him, to run your fingertips up and down his arm, to wrap your hand around his pulsing, aching d—

“i can’t,” you sigh, and kiyoomi curses the name of every single one of his ancestors watching over him when he feels your body press against him from behind, and he has to bite hard into his bottom lip to stop himself from groaning.

what the fuck. grow a fucking pair, kiyoomi.

“then go sleep on the side of the road,” he mutters, inhaling sharply when your hands snakes across his waist, the cool skin of your arm shocking the warmness of his chest.

“oh but you’d much rather me here, wouldn’t you?”

kiyoomi curses once again. in his head, of course. or was it out loud?

“don’t play games with me,” he warns, squeezing his eyes shut when your hand snakes dangerously low.

“but you’re just so much fun,” you coo against the tenderness of his neck, your hand tracing down the fine lines of his chest, down to his v-line, then thumbing at the waistband of his boxers.

“y/n,” he bites out. your hand slips under his boxers. his hips jerk.

in less than two seconds you’re pinned beneath him on his mattress as he hovers over you, chest heaving and a knee between your thighs.

“what’s this, omi?” you call out playfully, lifting your hand between your faces and you spread apart your fingers, the stickiness of a substance stretching along with it.

he’s going to hell.

he pushes his knee upwards, firmly, and you gasp, gripping onto his forearm and your hips jolt and you whimper.

his dick jumps in his boxers.

he watches as you try to subtly grind against his knee, desperate for any kind of friction, the sultry facade fallen.

this is going to be a long night.

[hellwantfuckme]

her warmth

summary: Azriel returns injured from a mission, he could have visited Madja, who would make quick work of healing his wounds, he prefers to stay with her, even if it will hurt a little more, as long as the solitary wound lodged in his chest also heals.

warnings: injuries, blood

author's note: Azriel has my heart.

Eclipse's face twisted into a minuscule expression of disgust as she looked at the brutal wound, fifteen centimeters long on Azriel's muscular back, just below his shoulder, a generous space between the gash and his shoulder blades where his wings began. The expression on her face increased, her eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

"Do you still insist on not going to a healer?" Eclipse asked, her voice weak as she saw the blood. A small knot lodged in her throat.

She had had wounds like that on her body a thousand times, and had treated them on her own, miraculously, only one or two had become infected. Eclipse was thankful that Azriel was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking forward, unable to see the slight disgust on her face. She was on her knees just behind him, keeping a reckless distance from his wings. The left wing comfortably stretched across the length of her bed, the other, somewhat more uncomfortable, reaching the headboard. But both were down, relaxed, perhaps. Or maybe he was just so tired that keeping them firm, as he normally did, was heavy. Eclipse had seen him sprawled out on a sofa, totally drunk, and still his wings didn't touch the ground. She had seen him sit on his bed other times, with his wings well tucked against his back.

Eclipse didn't know how to process that information. What it meant. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind. That was something for another time, to think about his body language and analyze it until reaching a thousand conclusions, she would do it later, when the Illyrian was not sitting on her bed. When there were only remnants of his scent left.

"Is it really bad?" Azriel asked, his hoarse voice sending a shiver through her spine and making her heart race. He remained downcast, bone-tired.

She hated seeing him like this, her frown only deepened. She didn't want to acknowledge that the feeling that ran through her veins was raw concern. Eclipse looked at the wound again.

"W-well, yes, it looks pretty bad. When did you get it? A day ago, two?" Eclipse inquired, although by the way the wound looked, it was clear to her that it had been more than 24 hours. She spoke without letting Azriel answer. "From Windhaven to here is two hours, flown two hours and it still hasn't healed on its own, it will need stitches. It looks deep," Eclipse said, voicing what had been going through her mind since Azriel had taken off the leathers covering the upper part of his body and sat on the bed.

The blue-gray light from the faelights gave her perfect illumination, the wing membranes appearing more of a light pink than the usual red.

Azriel stiffened, nerves attacking her, and she tried to keep them buried, push them down. She couldn't help but overanalyze every gesture, every change, to a conclusion that had as many opportunities to be correct as to be miles away from reality.

"Or so I think, I have no idea how Illyrians heal," Eclipse muttered doubtfully. She was no healer, just a twenty-two-year-old girl who had had to heal this kind of wounds more than once. "I don't even know how Faeries... do it. But from the times that..."

"No," Azriel interrupted. "It's... you're right. If it hasn't healed yet, it won't heal on its own."

"You said you've sewn wounds on yourself more than once, right?"

A conversation they had had months ago, Eclipse blinked, the only sign of surprise. She hadn't really thought he would remember it, it had been something she had only mentioned once, less than a minute.

"I could help you with the wound, it's not too late tho, we can still call Madja and..." Her doubts about herself grew denser.

"Can you do it?" Azriel interrupted again, his shoulders rigid.

Eclipse felt the tortured way the words came out of his lips, tense as well.

Eclipse sighed, not thinking too much about the fact that he was indirectly asking her to take care of his wounds, had a kind of meaning. The kind of meaning that Eclipse would spend hours thinking about, hours tossing and turning in her bed repeating every tiny interaction over and over again.

Her hand rested on Azriel's other shoulder, a mere sign of seeking balance as she got out of her bed and headed to the bathroom attached to her room. She didn't stop to think about the much-exposed skin she was showing with that barely thigh-length blue silk nightgown, or the discrete way his eyes roamed the length of her legs, to her exposed collarbones.

She entered and left the bathroom without taking too long, gathering everything she needed.

The House had provided her with a bowl of hot water and a clean cloth, as well as a sterilized needle and thread. And also, herbs that Eclipse knew very well. Yarrow leaves that would prevent bacteria in the wound, marigold flowers that would help with inflammation, and lavender, for the pain. She had prepared this mixture a thousand times, the smell of everything reminding her of all the times she had gotten into street fights, or bar fights, and especially, the scar along her forearm itched with the memory.

She banished the mental image of all the blood and panic she had felt back then. Now she knew what to do, although the fact that she would be treating someone who wasn't herself still sparked a slight panic in her chest. Eclipse filled her lungs with air for six seconds, held it for four, and released it for another six seconds.

«Calm down.»

She carefully left everything on her nightstand, with Azriel's gaze fixed on her, his usually stoic expression interrupted by a slight frown and a very slight pink shade on his cheeks. Eclipse must have imagined it.

She dipped the cloth tip in the hot water, then submerged the fabric a little more until half of it was wet and withdrew it, wringing it to remove the excess water.

Their eyes met for just a second while Eclipse stood up, there was a glimmer in his eyes that she could not decipher. It was incredible how, even without trying to hide his emotions, it was difficult to read him.

Eclipse turned the bed around, got on it, positioning herself just behind him. Her warm, somewhat wet hand from the cloth, touched his shoulder again to recompose properly. Eclipse felt him bristle. She didn't know if it was because of the contact or because she was too close to his wings, either way she backed off a little. Still close enough to easily reach his wound but maintaining a distance between her and his wings.

She cleared her throat.

"It might hurt a little," she said.

"I've dealt with worse," Azriel told her, his voice almost guttural and tense. Eclipse stopped for a second.

Was it the pain? Or perhaps, had he changed his mind about this and wanted to leave? Maybe he had seen her nerves. Maybe the pain clouded his judgment and he hadn't thought it through.

Eclipse heard a sigh escape his nose, and she looked at the wound again, unsure of how to proceed. The idea of reminding him that he could leave if he wasn't comfortable, that they could still call Madja, was a quick order to her vocal cords, and when she was about to speak, Azriel beat her to it.

"How did you learn to heal wounds like this?" he inquired. His voice notably less tense.

Eclipse took it as an invitation and gently placed the cloth over the beginning of his smooth, firm skin break.

"I used to get into fights," Eclipse murmured as the cloth gently crossed the wound, cleaning impurities.

The smell of blood reached her, the blood and the cedar and exhaustion. Eclipse still wasn't used to the fact that emotions gave off a smell, even though she had been Fae for three years, with countless years ahead of her.

"The friends I had were all from extremely questionable security neighborhoods. They solved everything with violence, the slightest offense, the smallest debt…"

Eclipse sighed.

"I've broken my thumb twice punching wrong, and I have thousands of small scars from learning to use a dagger properly. And I've had wounds like this more times than I care to remember," she explained.

She finished cleaning the wound without giving any further explanations, and Azriel didn't speak or make any sounds of pain, he just clenched his jaw so hard she thought a tooth would break. Eclipse remembered how she had screamed, they had made her bite a belt, the first time she had gotten a wound like this and they had simply cleaned it. Although there was also the fact that she had been infinitely gentler cleaning Azriel's wound than her friends had been cleaning hers.

Eclipse got out of bed, leaving the cloth on the nightstand.

The house conjured up another wooden bowl, right next to the herbs. She put each of the herbs in the bowl, poured some hot water over them, and crushed them as best as she could. It took her longer than she would have liked, Azriel's gaze, once again, fixed on her.

"You've broken your thumb twice?" Azriel asked, raising an eyebrow. She saw curiosity and a bit of fun on his face and snorted.

"At least you know how to throw a punch," she joked, halfheartedly.

"If I haven't, are you going to push me into the ring with Cassian and have him yell orders at me?" Eclipse joked.

"Cassian would be too soft for someone who has broken their thumb twice giving a punch, and done it wrong."

"I was fifteen!" Eclipse excused herself, her voice rising only slightly. The corners of his lips curved into a tiny smile. "But I do know how to throw a punch."

"I'd like to see that," Eclipse rolled her eyes; his smile grew slightly broader.

When the ointment was ready, Eclipse positioned herself behind him again. Every time Eclipse saw the wound it seemed to get larger, bloodier.

She applied the ointment carefully on the wound, Azriel let out a small groan of pain, almost imperceptible. Eclipse grimaced and swallowed.

"Sorry," she murmured. When she finished, she looked at the needle. "Could you pass me the needle?"

Azriel handed it over without objection.

"I imagine I don't need to tell you it's going to hurt," she murmured again.

Azriel closed his eyes when the needle pierced his skin, his fists tightened the sheets beneath him.

Eclipse sewed the wound with expert hands, a process that took long minutes until it was closed. Azriel let out a sigh, and she, as gently as she could, bandaged the wound.

"Go see Madja tomorrow morning, Azriel," she practically ordered. He just nodded. Eclipse got off the bed, then, standing in front of him. He straightened up, even when a grimace of pain settled on his face at doing so, just to be able to look at her better. For the first time, he had to lift his chin to look her in the eyes.

Eclipse noticed a few drops of blood staining his face, and her muscles moved without thinking. Azriel spread his knees wide enough to make room for Eclipse between them, while her hand cradled his face, her thumb tracing the dried drop of blood on his cheek.

Azriel inevitably closed his eyes, tilting his face to the incredibly soft touch of her hand.

Her chest filled with warmth.

"You have to rest, Az," she murmured, not breaking the chocolate gaze of the man who seemed so... vulnerable. "My bed is yours if you want it."

He opened his eyes, as if wanting to confirm that she had just said that. That he wasn't imagining it. He blinked.

"Where will you sleep?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.

Eclipse nodded towards the sofa in front of the windows, it was actually large enough for her to sleep well, although she knew she wouldn't. In reality, she didn't know why she had offered it. But she didn't have time to regret it.

"No, I..."

"If you want to stay, you will stay in bed," Eclipse said, her voice firm. Azriel blinked again, surprise disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

Azriel knew it would be tremendously selfish to let the kind woman who had healed him, and who was looking after him right now, sleep on a sofa. But he couldn't leave her warmth, her scent around him. He couldn't bear to return to his room, alone. Just as he had been for five hundred years, because he had discovered that she filled a heavy void in his chest. That there wasn't a corner that felt uncomfortable with her, he couldn't find a flaw in her. Not one.

So he simply nodded. And let himself be taken care of.

[laurfilijames]

Wish You Were Here

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x reader

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of death and brief descriptions of war. Intimate flashbacks.

Summary: Sleep deprivation begins to take its toll on Will, leaving him distressed and emotional as he thinks about being back home with you.

A/N: This is sad and it hurt my heart to write but I needed to do it so I can go back to writing fluffy filth!

---

The numbers usually calmed him, gave him something sturdy and finite to focus on, but tonight they taunted him.

Each second that turned into a minute was a cruel reminder of all the ones he had spent awake, and no matter how exhausted he was and how physically ill he felt from the sleep he was being starved of, his mind and body refused it.

It had been days without more than a few minutes of rest at a time, only accumulating to a small number of hours that wasn’t enough to sustain anybody, and another wave of nausea set in as the effects of it all started to become too much.

It was moments like this that he missed you even more. The hurt in his heart turned physical, a relentless ache for you that the pains in his body couldn’t compare to.

Will sighed heavily, trying everything he could to cope with the insanity he felt over it, but it was growing to be unbearable, his limits tested like the few times they had before. He wondered as he took another deep inhale - his empty stomach filling with air - if he was waking anyone up in his distress, constantly shifting where he sat on the cold ground to try to feel even an ounce of comfort, his breathing louder than the wind howling around them, but it was stupid to think anyone else was able to slip into the solace of sleep at this point. No one was snoring and everyone was still, lacking the relaxed twitches that came when rest took control of your body, and he thought how the only members of their company who were resting peacefully were the ones going home to their families accompanied by a folded flag.

Home.

He blew out another shaky breath, closing his burning eyes so he was able to picture it in his tormented mind.

Your alarm would be about to go off, the early dawn still covering your bedroom in darkness right before the sun appeared to kiss your skin with its orange glow instead of his lips, your side of the bed cold as your body favoured his spot to be the one that was kept warm. You would no doubt have one of his t-shirts on and your head would be on his pillow, gripping it tightly as if it was him, trying to capture a bit of him that was left behind from the last time he was there with you.

Will found a little relief in these thoughts, knowing you were safe and out of harm's way, although he wasn’t naive enough to think you weren’t spending each moment worried and anxious for his safety.

Another inhale, slower this time, eyes still screwed shut as if the tighter he closed them the further he would be from this brutal reality.

He can hear the hum of the fan that sits on your dresser and is aimed at your bed, the sound ingrained in his mind from keeping both of you cool in the humidity night after night, and he can almost smell the scent of your heated skin, the familiarity of it making his mouth water, the desperation he feels to be able to hold you making him want to smile and scream all at once.

Fuck, he wished you were here.

Will flashed open his eyes. No. He couldn’t dream of placing you in this hell and exposing you to all the evil he had witnessed.

He shifted his legs, closing his eyes again as tears sprung up in them, the wet boots on his feet feeling more intolerable than usual.

Another inhale, then exhale.

He sighed again, imagining he’s back in your room, crawling into fresh sheets after showering, tangling his naked limbs with yours, your fingertips dancing up and down along his arm and back and softly over his face until his breathing continues to happen without him thinking about it and his mind is temporarily void of all he holds onto.

In the distance, the boom of an air raid sounds, rumbling and shaking the ground with a trembling force, bringing him out of his dream.

His muscles felt incredibly heavy, beyond tired and depleted of any strength, and he replaced the reasons why they were with how wonderful his body always felt after pouring every bit of energy he had into loving you, the satisfaction in expending all of his power into your pleasure comparable to nothing else.

A stray tear rolled down his cheek as his breathing grew quicker, thinking how he would do just about anything to be with you right now, even for the briefest of moments. Everything was more tolerable when he was with you, no demons too big to face, the strength you had admirable and extended over to him by simply being in your proximity. Sleep was something that never came easy to him, but at least when he was with you he was engulfed in a comforting embrace that gave him some rest and repose.

He brushed the wet away with his thumb, his heart clenching in his chest while his throat restricted, knowing if you were here you would kiss each tear away and sit quietly with him until his mind gave him some reprieve.

Will sunk his chin down into the collar of his jacket, rubbing his mouth back and forth on the material, the smell of sweat, rain and stale blood that he didn’t know was his or not filling his nostrils with a pungency he struggled to get used to.

A huff that bordered on being a laugh came from him, thinking how ironic it was that the night before he deployed he hadn’t slept either, choosing instead to spend every second he had making love to you over and over while the time was available to him, each time never enough, and he thought how he would sacrifice sleep for the rest of his life if it meant he could share nights like that with you again.

He licked his lips, trying to get some moisture onto them and rid them of the stinging, chapped feeling and then pressed them together, recalling how it felt to have them hydrated and wet from yours, imagining the sensation of your skin under them as he peppered countless kisses on your body, something he could only describe as being the closest he could ever get to heaven while he sat in the threshold of hell.

Will had vowed when he left that morning that he would never leave you again after this mission, and he would stay true to that promise, deeming it completely impossible to carry on like this while knowing everything he needed to live and survive was half the world away.

Until then, he would tick off every minute, hour and day, counting them down until he was holding you in his wearied arms again, and hoped he could at least pass some of them with sleep, the gravity of needing to be alert and focused in order to make it back to you sitting heavily on his shoulders.

He untucked his arms from across his chest, tugging up the sleeve on his left one to check his watch, feeling a little more hopeful that he was one hour closer to that goal.

---

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