#and then 'sometime' winds up being months or years later

[secretagent9]

anyway it’s fun getting into lemon demon a billion years after everyone else

[mercif4l]

𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 — kmg

MDNI, this blog is for 18+ users only. blank blogs will be blocked.

pairing: afab!reader x kim mingyu

word count: 3.5k

summary: sometimes it's hard to say what you want. sometimes, mingyu is just being insufferably coy.

content warning: more smut, slight angst, boyfriend!mingyu, nudity, explicit sexual acts (dirty talk, dry humping, fingering, unprotected sex), discussions about contraception, dacryphilia(?), dom/sub dynamics, slight degradation, pet names, sub!mingyu is losing his mind

a/n: hugely inspired by @highvern who made my soul sparkle when i read the 'teach me' series and then had to get all my feelings out in a self-indulgent gyu fic. ty once again to @beomcoups and @wonuwoe for being my champions <3 and for your patience! hope this is even a little bit as special for you to read as it was for me to write ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

Broad, brawny, strapping young idol, Kim Mingyu. The very image of a gym rat, filling every space he enters twice the size of everyone else; A true BFG. 

And a total mess beneath your gaze as you ride his fingers without rest, legs bucking you up every time he presses against your g-spot and sends stars flying up your body and out through your mouth. 

Mingyu has always admired (envied, resented, adored) your self control. It makes him feel like a horny loser for never lasting as long as you do, and eternally grateful that he can stay hard after cumming just to feel you palpitate around him with your quiet, quivering sighs, launching him into another orgasm even more devastating than the last. 

When you’d first got together and had the sex safety talk, you told him he could ‘just pull out’, and in that moment he’d felt relatively confident about his abilities. But then he’d felt you, and tasted you, and before you could even get your panties off, he was leaking more precum than felt humanly possible.

You’d agreed to take birth control to curb his crippling fear of coming inside unexpectedly. And for your own peace of mind. Which seemed easier settled than his, frighteningly resigned to the side effects that birth control might bring — a concern he wouldn’t let you neglect, encouraging you to attend regular check ups every other month. 

Eventually you told him that while it was endearing he cared so much, it could feel a little overbearing from time to time. It still took a boat load of convincing to get him on board with the pill. You’d said you knew the risks, and while it was unfair there was no male equivalent, you’d shown no abnormal reaction to the pill and were an adult; you knew well enough how to take care of yourself. How you cared a whole lot about your body, and his misled doting could border on condescension if he wasn’t careful. 

(He’d put on a brave face for your conversation, never wanting to make it about himself, then cried to his mom on the phone later that day about how selfish he’d been. She told him to get over it and to try being a woman.) 

Perhaps if he was a woman he’d be in less pain right now. Watching you wind down over a glass of wine like he wasn’t sulking up a fit, his cock so hard that it crooned against his boxers. 

Despite his size and laid-back demeanor, he’s always been a bit bashful. Blushing at the slightest pinch of attention and covering his face with his jersey over some good-natured teasing. It was too bad he’d made himself such an easy target over the years. Any attempt to become non-chalant was at odds with every preexisting relationship in his life and was imminently met with even more teasing. 

Still, no one makes him feel as embarrassed as you do. It’s like a sick cycle. You peek one second too long at his lips and his ears turn pink, making you grin, filling his chest with a familiar ache and making his dick purr.

“Excited, Gyu?” you’d asked him just an hour ago, sat squished together on the lounge loveseat. Your hand poised on his thigh as he tried not to salivate over your compliments. You’d just been doting on him over his latest interview, head heavy with giggles as you rolled around and gushed about your ‘gorgeous boyfriend’ . You’d been particularly tickled by the discussion of ‘Men in their 20s’, Mingyu’s input being as loathing as you’d expect. Once you’d had your fun imitating his exasperated response, you pet his hair like he was a well-trained dog and scratched under his chin for good measure. 

That’s where this particular spiral started. 

The bristle of your nails against the hollow of his jaw left him struggling not to pant. It hadn’t been two days since you’d last touched him, and already he was feeling a little lightheaded. This didn’t stop him from tucking his tail between his legs and pretending to be a good, placid, boy. Eyes all round and twinkling like a deer in headlights; mouth agape as he tries to say that dinner is in the fridge and he’d happily heat it up for you as soon as you’d—

Then, you’d raked those same hands over his neck. And like a never-before-touched-40-year-old-virgin, he let out a pornographic whimper, curling into you with legs spread just wide enough to display the stiff beneath his shorts.

“My puppy, what’s wrong?” 

Instead of answering, he purses his lips and takes a few short, constricted breaths. Closing his eyes as if he can will this whole situation away (or to a head) by pretending it doesn’t exist.

“Can’t help you if you won’t talk to me, Gyu.” 

It was his least practiced skill: just fucking saying what he wants. He’s always too caught up in how turned on you make him or how vulnerable he feels. How deeply he enjoys the way you look at him with the eyes of a predator, and how hot he gets at the thought of being your prey.

“Gyu. Slow down.” For a man with the body mass Mingyu possesses, he’s always had a lack of spatial awareness. Bumping into the kitchen island every other morning; bonking heads in the elevator when he tries to give you a forehead kiss; generally not noticing injuries until he’s flexing in the bathroom mirror and a large bruise has appeared where once there was nothing.

His sex drive was no exception. He grinds against the cotton of his trousers without a single thought, even now as you lay your hand heavy against his throat and mock him for it.

“Such a desperate little puppy, can’t even breathe, humping yourself like a bitch in heat.”

With his airways partially blocked and his eyes squeezed shut, this friction feels almost as good as your hand might. 

“Stop.” This time, the instruction is clear, the heel of your palm digging into his hip bone and forcing him to sit still. He trembles like an injured animal and you don’t hide your snort; the sound is like a bitter spirit left on his salivary glands and it only makes him more liquid in your arms.

“Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll help you, bug.”

“M’sorry, can’t…” 

“Gyu.” It’s a firm warning and still he bites his tongue in resistance:

“I— Fuck… ngh, can’t, I can’t—“

Working himself up over something as simple as wanting to be touched… Well, it makes you wonder if he enjoys being punished. Tears already trail down his temples, thick and heavy as they fall into his damp hair, and every time you lick at the salty water he bucks up into nothing again.

There’s only one way this is going to end. At this rate, with how you’re repeating his favorite nickname in the arch of his ear, the idea of playing nonchalant seems hilarious. How could he ever stay quiet or, god forbid, composed with you around?

It wasn’t always this way, mind you. Communication was a huge part of your relationship. Of course that included acknowledging anything that made you feel ashamed or unattractive. Physical, taboo, emotional: when one of you got shy, you were given a week of grace to iron things out, then you’d have to face the music and let the other in. It didn’t matter how. Actually, there were an infinite amount of ways to sort things out and you were both sticklers for likelihoods and probabilities.

But after six months, Mingyu still couldn’t verbalize his needs. The two ways he’d express himself were whimpering at inopportune moments or folding his legs extra tight until you got the idea. Initially, it was endearing; even after all this time, it’s still sweet and adorable (and a little bit of a turn-on). It sure gave you ample ground to assert your dominance over him. It also gave you a lot to tease him about after the fact. But in some ways, it suffocated you. In some ways, it made you feel gross for controlling the narrative. 

“Actually,” you reckon with a tone so disinterested he isn’t sure how to recognize it as your voice: “I don’t feel like this right now.” 

Then you cross your legs and shuffle across the couch, plucking your phone from the coffee table to retreat inside of it. You’re sure there was an abandoned webtoon chapter to keep you distracted. Anything to quell the bile rising in your throat. 

Before he has a moment to recognize how blue his balls are, Mingyu makes the most sorrowful sound you’ve ever heard. Your head whips around, and what you find is devastating: the big lug has his knees tucked to his chest with his hands squishing against his cheeks. His pearly teeth are gnashed together but barely visible behind his forearm as his shoulders shudder, up and down, up and down.

“Please, please, don’t stop… touching, me, need… Please don’t stop, want you— can you?” and when his begging ends in a whisper of your name, your resolve snaps. You slide onto the ground, hands weaseling between his knees as you look up at him through bleary eyes of your own. 

“Gyu?”

“no, no, I’m sorry, I know. Know I’m the worst — so stupid,”

While you expect him to react poorly, this was not the way you’d wanted it to go. The tears that leave his eyes aren’t pleasant or cathartic-they’re crushing. The weight of his sobs makes him look so so small, and his shoulders twitch at your slightest touch, and now you feel even sicker. But you hold it in, knowing that there’s no way he’ll calm down without a steady hand guiding him.

“Mingyu, breathe baby. Breathe. Let’s just try to breathe together.” 

It only takes a few rounds of counting in squares to wind him down, after which he wipes his tears roughly and clears his throat. 

“Sorry for—“ 

“It’s okay to cry. I’m sorry for overwhelming you. And stopping so suddenly.” A small point of contact between you remains at the apex of his ankle and the soft of your hand. It’s not enough but it’s the only thing that reminds him to breathe. 

“I know—know it’s okay to cry.” 

You snuffle a giggle at his pouty response; “I know you know it’s okay to cry. But sometimes we don’t feel that way, y’know.” 

God. You’re so stupidly smart. So patient with him. God, he’s in love with you. And he’s such a mess.

“Of course… Of course I want to say it,” he tries to avoid your gaze but the fingers now pressing on his calf won’t let him. 

“Want to tell you what I want. But I’m really.. I’m so scared. Scared and not really of you, even though it’s kind of hot when I am, but something about it feels… wrong?” 

You listen without interrupting him or egging him on, chuckling when it seems appropriate and nodding as he trips over his words in worry.

“Like I’m… being like, I dunno, I’m not being the man? Or… something.

His hesitation is filled with sniffles against the overpriced hoodie he’d purchased just a week before. He’ll curse himself out for that later, undoubtably. Good thing he has the knack for a good hand wash.

—But I want to… I wanna try. Can I try?” 

“Now?”

“Mm… want you now.” 

Hearing it from his mouth for the first time in so long sends a bright red flush all over you. Your head dips low as a coy grin replaces that wrinkle between your brows you’d been keeping warm. Mingyu settles his focus on your face to avoid any more distractions. The demure purse of your lips is more than enough to encourage him to continue. Even if he stutters in anticipation a bit along the way.

“So beautiful. I, I love your smile, makes me feel so warm and…weird? Good weird, just like I wanna kiss you all the time. And look at you smiling. And at the same time, smiling at me, and I love it when I feel your tongue on mine, fuck, when I feel your tongue at all” 

His words flow freely as you stretch your legs over his and settle in his lap. His hands move in even strokes down your sides and arms and thighs, gently cupping your face as he admires you. Well, it certainly seems like he’s getting the hang of it. 

“S’all I can think about when I get sweaty… So weird, but I get sweaty and I imagine you licking it off me, shit, look at how pretty you are, shit, shit,”

As he hears himself, he suddenly feels like he could wax poetic for hours (or ramble, whatever this was). If it meant making you look as pleased as you do right now, he’d happily make a living out of it. 

“Can I touch you? So beautiful, wanna feel ya…” The drawl of his accent gets thicker as he rambles on.

“You sure, puppy?” After all that emotional exhaustion it feels a bit strange to be so intimate. The last thing you want is for him to smother his feelings with sex. But then you see the conviction in his flared nostrils and set lips; the very face he makes when you’ve had a bad day and insist everything is fine. When all he ever wants is an excuse to shower you with his love. 

“Yes. F’you’ll let me?” And when he asks so nicely, who are you to deny him?

There’s a slight back and forth as he tries to unbutton your jeans as fast as possible and it all goes so quickly you don’t really register how awkward it is, wiggling out of them in his lap on the couch. But Mingyu’s athleticism never fails him, especially in moments like these. 

The foray over your sticky panties has him searching maniacally for some purchase beneath you. He rubs and pulls and taps until you’re canting into his knuckles sporadically. By the time he’s pulled them to the side and gathers your wetness in his grip, he might be the hardest he’s ever been. 

“God, gonna, wanna make you cum—can I please? Show you?” 

It’s your turn now to be silent, nodding profusely into his cheek as you nibble at his earlobe. There’s one sentiment you refuse to voice in this moment, as the pad of his thumb zeroes in on your clit and drags it in circles: that you’re cooked. You’ve never been this wet in your life, and if you had an ounce of self-awareness left in you, you’d shudder at the slick mess you’ve made. Or the blown out pupils lolling to the back of your head. Or the saliva that drools down your chin in excess and slings onto his. 

But Mingyu is no better: if you weren’t sitting atop him, a dangerous puddle of his own precum would be proudly on display. Somehow the thought turns him on even more. 

“Could come like this, in my pants, nnghh, but I wanna, wanna do it while you ride my fingers, can you…” 

“Fuck! Gyu, just gimme—“ The sentence dies before its finish as he takes your excited exclamation and sprints. The longest of his four fingers push into your hole to fit snugly against your walls, pulsing against him like they’re welcoming him home. 

“Love feeling you on me, my fingers, my—nngh, my cock, made for me, made for you” It comes out a sadistic whine while he bullies them into you with that same doe eyed look.

“Got so much to do, wanna do, wanna make—“

“Gyu, s’good. So good. All mine.”

“Yours. All yours, f’you’ll have me? Have me?”

The words circulate from your empty head straight to your core and you swear, you could cry. He keeps pleading for you to have him and take him and the fever of it all overwhelms you.

In the fissure between the pit of your stomach and where all this untenable excitement likes to linger, something weird begins to coil. Heating so rapidly that you have no time to warn him of it. One moment you’re there, and then next, you’re not; You’re somewhere where there’s color as far as the eye can see, and all you can feel is bliss. Once you do manage to open your eyes, you notice the pool of liquid that now sticks his tank top and pants to his lower belly and thighs. 

Well, shit. You just squirted. And in record time, Mingyu might add. Was this all he had to do to get you riled up? Just divulge his every wet dream and watch you crumble beneath (or atop) him?  

You don’t even double take his soaked white shirt, now stuck to his abdomen with slick, or the dampened the seat of his pants that leave very little to the imagination. You’re wasted with the whiplash of everything that has just happened and truthfully, you couldn’t care less. 

The only thing that brings reality back to your conscience is the continuing buck of his hips.

“My baby, did so good. You wanna cum?” 

“Yes!” He’s squeaking at this point, a pile of incoherent pet names and wet moans. He could probably come in his pants if you hadn’t suggested otherwise, just happy to be in close proximity to you like this: Soaking his clothes and skin and all sweaty all over him. 

Mingyu is so distracted by the image that he barely notices the sticky feelings of his trousers being pulled off. 

“Hands are shaking, m’sorry, your hands—“ 

“I know Gyu. It’s okay.”

There’s no space for him to hold you til you’re steady—his primary concern—with your entrance fluttering over him, still reeling from your orgasm. An ache he didn’t even realize was there is relieved the moment you stretch around him. Welcoming him home. He really could die happy like this: admiring the curve of your chin from below and so, so warm. The image of you, anchoring yourself on his shoulders and hips settled between his, is one he’ll be haunted by forever. 

“Go.” You say it with the last of your energy and a firm bite to his neck. 

He doesn’t need any further instruction; he’s so fucking glad you’ll still tell him what to do. 

The rhythm he sets is animalistic. Heaving and whining and fucking up into you with more force than you’d expected him to be capable of. Something feral takes over your boyfriend and you wish you had the energy to watch it. Maybe you’ll just have to do this all again with a camera filming. God, that would drive him absolutely insane.

With the pace and how worked up he’s become, it’s no surprise when he pulls out a few minutes later to come. Strong arms yank you down and suddenly you’re sat on top of his cock, grinding it against his stomach with his direction.

“Coming, I’m, nnngh fuck!” Mingyu’s voice rises about two octaves as he finishes in white all over his belly. It spurts out long enough for you to feel the aftershocks. In his shivering thighs, in his clenched abs, and the overstimulated cries that catch in his throat.

It may take a long time to recover, but you’re grateful for the break. When Mingyu stands from the couch with you in his arms, you already know he’s taking you to the shower. He strips you as carefully as he can muster and grimaces at the messes made of you both in the harsh overhead light. 

“You shower first.” It’s the first thing you’ve said in a while and he seems bewildered; not just by your wary voice, but by the idea of taking care of himself before taking care of you. So cute, you think. But you refuse to let up. You take a towel from the heated rack and gather all of your clothes in it, holding the sack out as if to say ‘add it to the pile’. Once he’s naked you shove him gently towards the running water and drag yourself out to the laundry room. It only takes a few seconds before you hear those long feet shuffling behind you. 

“Don’t even think about it. I’ll be right back.” 

A silence lingers and you know full well he hasn’t turned back just yet. Alright. You’ll coax him through this part. 

“I’ll shower with you. Just make sure it’s warm for me?” He giggles at that. All it takes is making something a task for Mingyu to thrust himself into it, full force. The retreating footfall that follows is more than enough to make you smile. And laugh, just a bit. 

“Thank you, Gyu.” 

“Anything for you.”

penned by rowan. in reference to this interview among other things.

[helenazbmrskai]

Textbook Love (m) - KSJ

Title [Textbook Love] previously known as Mr Dream Writer!

Pairing [Best Friend’s Brother! Seokjin x Writer! Reader]

Genre [smut, angst, fluff, best friend’s brother AU, friends to lovers, slice of life]

Summary [Loving your best friend’s brother is forbidden so what is even more forbidden you might ask. It’s writing smut about him. Can you still remain friends after he discovers your secrets?]

Words [11,6k]

Warnings [sexual content: oral sex (f and m receiving), morning wood, sexual tension, subby jin, dom reader, teasing, blowjob, lots of kisses, jin comes in his pants, possessiveness, dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie]

Rating [+18]

A/N: Hii! Some of you might know this story (it was a series previously) but I made it into a one-shot and finished it also made some changes in the plot. Now that Jinie is home I wanted to write something about him. Please enjoy!

Masterlist //

Kim Seokjin. Jin or Jinie shortened for friends and family. Your bestest friend’s older brother and your current roommate of five months, nine hours and – a brief look at your wristwatch – twenty minutes.

He’s tall with shoulders as wide as the ocean. Could take over the model industry at any moment. But also born with a heart of gold.

He’s like the warmest of summers, the orange hues of the sunset. Shines so bright in the darkness of the night sky that you’re afraid of getting hurt if you dare to approach him carelessly but if he’s the sun then you’re the moon. The opposite that, unfortunately – doesn’t attract.

If it wasn’t obvious from the intro you put together, remind you, to read this from the first page of your diary you’re here to spell this out. You have the biggest crush on Seokjin. Ever since he caught you three years ago when you almost fell off of the cruise boat on a family vacation while mindlessly looking at the water below. You could still remember how it felt to be inside his arms. How quick your heart raced not just because of the adrenalin but by being held by him. Your back was pressed against his chest and his fingers dug into your waist to keep both of your balance. His breath hit the shell of your ear when he asked in his sexy voice are you alright. Your heart was beating so fast for him. You swear at that exact moment his mom knew what you were thinking.

You childishly filled several notebooks with his name on every page with little pink hearts and his handsome face became a reoccurring figure in your dreams at night. It’s cliché to fall in love with your best friend’s brother and sadly it’s not how the romance novels you like to read portray it where you fall but he falls harder. No –

That daydream ending doesn’t come near you at all.

So you write your own books instead where you magically fall in love with Jin and he reciprocate your feelings.

Jin never had a girlfriend after he ended things with his last one three years ago. He mostly dealt with his heartbreak by the time you started developing your feelings for him but the timing never seemed to be right to tell him how you feel. It felt like you were longing for someone’s love and attention whose heart isn’t available yet.

You did not dare to speak up.

Sometimes you can’t help it. Hope flares in your heart. His intentions are pure but you can’t help but put more meaning behind it as you see fit. You could chat about your days during dinner and sometimes his thumb wipes some sauce from your lips and your heart flutters. He asks if you want to hang out with the boys at the bar and his hand is on the small of your back guiding you to the table between busybodies. You shiver from the cold wind at night on your way home from bowling with your friends and his jacket is neatly laid on your shoulders a moment later. Small details that probably mean nothing to him whilst it’s everything to you.

There are times when you could picture yourself next to him, holding his hand and kissing his lips. You try not to let your delusions surface often. It’s too draining mentally. Left with disappointment in the end when he goes on a date or brings someone home for the night. The illusion shatters.

The brightest light burns out the fastest as they say. One day you’re filled with hope other times reality comes to you like a trainwreck. Some things are not meant to be and it’s probably you and Jin. Blah. Blah. Blah. You could talk about this forever if you had the time.

You spend most days outlining your plot holed up in your room. Keyboard smashing as you fly over the estimated word count.

Who knew that unrequited love could give you so much inspiration?

Writing and editing until your eyes dry out and your nose bleeds are how masterpieces are created in your opinion.

Living between the pages of your book certainly feels better sometimes than real life. Caffeine and food are your new lover at least they can’t hurt your feelings. You can hear the front door open and close from a distance when the apartment is enveloped in complete silence. It’s midday. He’s usually nose-deep in his work by now. If not he helps old ladies to cross the street or save kittens that got stuck on high trees aka living the life of an angel. So what is he doing at home? You hear keys clinking and a heavy sigh followed by sluggish footsteps.

Your typing ceases as your fingers hover over your keyboard as you listen. Should you greet him? He could be having a hard day.

Seokjin’s a polite and friendly roommate as you got to know him. He treats you like a good little sister. You don’t like it but you don’t have the confidence to raise questions about it. He’s a homebody just like you but likes his hangouts every-now-and-then. He’s neat and domestic honestly, the best roommate you had so far. A popular restaurant owner downtown who is not only sought out because of his looks but also because of his excellent cuisine. His wide shoulders carry a lot of pressure to do well with his business.

He most likely comes home from visiting the bank. He decided recently that he wanted to make the place more modern and renovate the kitchen and interior. You heard that getting a loan seems to be a bit tricky. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of Jin’s broad shoulders in a fitting white t-shirt and some baggy pants. You like his day clothes but you like them especially when he goes casual showing true boyfriend material looks with soft hoodies and plain t-shirts. Even when he comes home smelling like food and sweat you find him attractive. His eye smile melts you into a puddle especially when he catches you making his favourite comfort food after a long day at work.

You ask him today if he needs it and he nods already feeling better after the mention of his favourite muffins. You shoo him out of the kitchen while you start preparing to make the butter and he goes to take a shower before he returns to your side. You don’t need to ask if he had a bad day.

”You always know what I need. It smells amazing Y/N. Can I get a taste?” You try to keep your composure when Seokjin throws his arms around your body engulfing you in a back hug that brings the scent of his body wash to waft into your nose. Your heart is beating loudly in your throat and you’re hoping that the sound doesn’t reach his ears with his chest tightly pressed to you and his chin lying on top of your head. You want to melt into him – melt into the lazy circles he leaves with his thumb on your hipbone absentmindedly but you don’t let yourself completely relax afraid if you show how much you like it you will be too obvious.

The tip of his nose kisses the side of your cheek as you slightly turn in his direction holding up your spoon for a taste just like he asked.

”Hmn. Tastes good.”

Your entire body freezes up when he moans into your ear (fucking moans) and your panties dampen by the sheer sinfulness of the sound. Fuck. He’s going to be the death of you.

”S-Set the table, will you?” You hope he doesn’t put two and two together by the tremor in your voice. You’re his baby sister’s best friend there’s no way he would look at you the same way as you are looking at him.

”Sure. Finish up buttercup.” He squeezes you for a moment longer before he lets you go and steps back. Laughing at his own joke. The cold air that rushes back now that his body heat is gone makes an involuntary shiver run down your spine. He doesn’t notice any of your odd reactions. Thankfully. Seokjin skips into the living room like normal carrying two plates with him and forks.

The muffins are almost done.

”My publisher is hellbent on making me write about love. I was thinking of showing how friendship is important in my next book. You know have a somewhat action-based fantasy story as the protagonists meet with strangers and become friends along the way while going through hardships together, something similar like that. I don’t want to write a cute love story when I haven’t got a real boyfriend in ages. I know it wouldn’t be genuine and I would hate to let my readers down.”

At first, you asked about how his day was going but somewhere along the way he asked about your visit to your publishing company today and you had to rent about it. Jin listens to you carefully even though he has his own problems to solve. You don’t try to dwell on it long since you want to comfort him instead.

You know how passionate he is about his job and how he loves cooking and now he’s placed in a tough situation. You don’t have the time to worry about your nonexistent love life.

”You could never let your readers down Y/N. They love your books.” You place your fork down and reach over to grasp his hand in yours impulsively but Jin doesn’t mind. You want to intertwine your fingers so badly with his but you hold back he’s not yours to hold. You hate to see him upset like this. The snack is long forgotten as you both stop eating.

”You can still do it.” You’re confused for only a second before Jin elaborates. One hand goes over his hair ruffling the locks and making a mess.

”You could always try and meet someone.” Okay. Ouch. It’s true but hearing it from him is even more painful than the normal jabs you get from your best friend regarding this matter.

”I don’t need a boyfriend to write about love.” Because I’m in love with you.

You don’t offer him much more after that and he lets it go after a while when he realises you won’t budge on the subject. This is not a topic that you want to discuss with him either.

You’re working on something but that’s not how you pay your bills. Simple romance doesn’t pay as much. It’s written porn you write to your secret fanbase that Jin doesn’t know about on a site. You have a secret job that only your best friend knows about. You write smut on the internet and you have plenty of followers who tip you generously for your thirst posts.

Your popularity is all thanks to the built-up sexual tension because you imagine Jin doing those things to you. It will never happen in real life so you write it down and give the guy a fake name. Simple as that. You started your blog to keep your fantasies in one place but people seemed to love your filthy ideas so you kept going under a fake name.

Once you both eat your fill of the sweets you carry the plates to the kitchen. Jin insists on washing the dishes since you baked so you just stand by the side. Jin hums a catchy tune whilst cleaning and rinsing the plates. You always liked listening to his voice. He could be a singer he said he might be in his next life and you both shared a laugh. It’s domestic talking and doing chores together around the house.

This is how everything has always been.

“Your back is arching one hand is placed on your left thigh firmly to keep you open as two thick fingers enter you. You moan and struggle as Jinie’s pillowy lips wrap around your clit his hum travels to your core as he tastes you.

You gush around his fingers that pump in and out of your puffy folds. You want to see him devour you so you keep yourself open with two of your fingers in a v shape. He licks you from top to bottom looking straight into your eyes. He removes his fingers in favour to circle his tongue around your hole and his nose gently rubs on your clit with each lick and swipe of his eager tongue.

”R-Right there. I’m cumming.” Your hands hold onto his hair pulling desperately at the strands when Jin reintroduces his two digits and his lips travel up to suck on your clit. If he keeps this up you’re going to cum on his face. His hips rut against the mattress and his moans add to the pleasure of his tongue mapping out your swollen and sensitive folds. You sound so hot. ”Jin. Jinie. Please don’t stop...” You pull him closer desperately clawing at his wide shoulders as you nearly suffocate him with your thighs. Close. So close. Need a moment and –“

”What are you doing?” You jump in your seat when you hear Seokjin call out to you. You look over your shoulder pausing your writing to take in his form leaning against your doorframe.

You shut your laptop in reflex when he steps closer to see you better, you don’t want him to see what you were up to. You’re self-conscious even if writing smut is not your literal job. You sit with your legs crossed wound up from your words and imagination. He had to show up right before you wrote the climax. You haven’t heard him knock either. Did you get so lost in your head that you did not hear him at all?

”Writing.” You answer ominously.

Jin hums and takes a seat at the edge of your bed close to your little station. He’s not suspecting you at all. You roll around with your chair and face your handsome roommate.

Usually, he doesn’t come and visit you at night. Jin likes to keep to himself when sad to not bring down anyone’s mood so you’re surprised he decided to seek you out. It manages to put you in a good mood. He trusts you enough to show you his vulnerable side.

He looks tired.

You yelp when he rolls you closer to him by grabbing the armrest of your chair his head lands on your meaty thighs so close to your core that it involuntarily throbs. It was just moments ago that you wrote about him feasting on your pussy and this position is not helping to calm down your racing heart.

Jin has no idea what he’s doing to you and you feel bad for ruining the moment with your dirty mind. He’s here to seek your comfort and you just think about yourself. You’re so selfish.

Your fingers card through his hair and he sighs in contentment. ”Can I sleep here tonight?” You almost didn’t catch the words that he murmured into your skin.

”You can.” Your voice is soft as if you’re afraid to disturb the moment. Jin holds you by the waist and buries his nose into your lower stomach. He’s been touch-starved and while he knows it’s not right to touch you like this he can’t help himself. He needs the comfort of your body after a long day. He longs to feel someone’s body heat next to him. You don’t push him away – you never do so he doesn’t stop even when he spoons you from behind lying on your bed listening to each other’s breathing.

You dream of his lips and wide shoulders.

It’s so hot you can feel sweat collecting at your spine and brows as something warm is clinging to you from behind. You can’t get away from the heat something is stopping you from wriggling out of its hold. Your dream-dazed mind needs a minute to realise what’s pressed against you and emits so much heat and when you do your entire body freezes mid struggle.

Right.

You let Jin into your bed last night. He’s like a furnace. You tilt your head backwards careful to not accidentally wake him up whilst you try to make a mental plan in your head on how to get out of this position. His hands are placed dangerously down on your body holding you by the hips and when he squeezes you suddenly you jump a little getting pressed on him more in the process.

Your t-shirt got rolled up during the night till your stomach was not covered by the fabric anymore. His hands are in direct contact with your skin and you can feel his warm touch cage you against him.

You’re outright panicking when you can feel his boner press into your buttcheeks. Sleepiness is long gone from your eyes.

This sounds like the beginning of one of your cheap smut stories. But you swear it’s not. You vaguely remember writing one about two people sharing one bed one of your favourite tropes to write about when they got stranded at a motel because of the weather. Your protagonist woke up just like you with a morning wood rutting against her whilst the boy was still living in a wet dream.

Jin isn’t moving though. He’s just pressed against you. His breath is not laboured at all as relaxed puffs of air hit your earlobe. He’s deeply asleep but his body is certainly awake and ready to nut. If you would be one of your characters then you might have the courage to press back and grind your ass into his cock. He feels big against your rearside even if he’s tucked away in his underwear.

You really want to move but you know you shouldn’t. If he accidentally wakes up you will be in big trouble.

Your attempts to escape are futile. Jin doesn’t let you go out of his hold and your struggle only makes him pull you closer and create some friction between your bodies. You let out a loud gasp when his cock accidentally rubs harder against your ass as you try to get away.

You settle down and wait. He’s probably waking up. His brows are furrowed and his mouth is jutted in a pout.

You let out a sigh of relief when he doesn’t. Looks like he got tired of you trying to get away and disturbing his sleep because he lets you go and turn to the other side of the bed. One of his hands is tucked under his head as he sleeps.

You shouldn’t feel as disappointed as you do when you get up and leave the room to get ready for the day.

You would have loved to feel him rub one out. You would have gladly let him use you but it’s for the best that nothing happened in the end. You leave the house early that morning. You needed some space to calm down and you had to go somewhere anyway. It’s ridiculous how worked up you got just because you felt Jin’s cock against your ass.

What’s even more concerning is that you have no difficulty meeting up with his sister and having some breakfast together.

If she knew what kind of thoughts you have about his older brother. She would certainly kill you but you try to keep these thoughts at the back of your mind for now as you focus on your important conversation. You shoot down another one of her blind date offers as usual at this point saying no is like a reflex to you.

”You like someone else, don’t you?” Your grip on your mug tightens and you look up at her like a deer caught in headlights after listening to her sudden question. At that moment you knew that you fucked up.

”I knew it! Who is it? Do I know him? Did you ask him out yet?” You avoid making eye contact with her as she rambles on and on about your mysterious love interest.

It’s your brother. Yes, you do know him. No, I don’t have to courage to ask him out and I don’t think I ever will.

You answer her in your head but decide against saying any of that out loud.

Instead, you say something even worse for her imagination to run wild: ”It’s complicated.”

”Is it a married man? I promise I will never judge you. You can tell me.” You gasp in horror when she starts speculating, giving you that look again that you haven’t seen since college when you had that crush on that jock from the swim team senior year. They were wet and hot in your defence every woman’s weakness. Everyone who tells otherwise is a liar.

Her hand finds yours on top of the table to console you but you pull away with a disapproving look.

”Oh my god. That’s not it!” You pick up some fries to shove into her mouth before she can speak more nonsense.

It’s annoying how she tries to nitpick everything you say just because you said it’s complicated it doesn’t mean it has to involve a married man or a sugar daddy! It could be worse than listening to her trying to figure out your mystery crush. At least she has no idea it’s his brother that you have secret feelings for. You shudder just by thinking of this morning with his dick wedged in between your buttcheeks.

It’s futile to think about the what-ifs. Nothing would have changed if you decided to stay or not a little longer. You just saved yourself from some awkward conversation where you would be friend-zoned or worse, sister zoned! You’re way past the point of feeling guilty about thinking about Jin whilst you’re with your best friend. You’re not concerned as you get lost in your head. You never really breached the topic with her but you know she wouldn’t be thrilled for you to have the hots for his brother. It’s stupid but her reaction when one of your friends brought up you dating him in the future is still a sore spot. Them. Together? Yikes. Childish, you know it but it still affects you more than you would like to admit. Not that Seokjin would ever return your feelings.

”Are you excited about our trip?” Glad for the change in the subject you let out a relieved chuckle. Genuine excitement showing on your face.

Of course, you are excited!

It’s been ages since you went to Jeju except for that one family vacation and this time it will be just you the girls and the boys – no parental supervision. You yourselves are grownups. Just friends on a summer trip. Everyone has been busy and working hard so some time to unwind will do some good for all of you. It’s also nostalgic as the first roots of your affection towards Jin bloomed on the Island as well. You’re excited to go back now that you’re all mature.

The problems you had back then seem to be minor things compared to what adult life rolls your way as a challenge. You share some excited chatter about the resort she got her hands on. You heard it’s quite spectacular and has a beautiful view of the ocean. You collect your trays when you’re done and head to the mall to buy some bikinis for the trip.

Time always flies by when you’re together and you step into your shared apartment with Jin in the late afternoon with a heart less heavy.

It’s still one of the favourite parts of your day. When you can smell the freshly made food and be greeted by Jin’s smile as he asks you to join him in the kitchen. You move in sync preparing the dishes seamlessly as you know what the other wants. You cooked together so many times but your heart still flutters when he prefers your help in the kitchen even at gatherings.

”You left early this morning.” The knife in your hand halts for a moment but you regain your composure rather quickly. You keep cutting the vegetables in relative silence as you try to come up with what to say and pour the cut pieces into a frying pan to stirfry, acting busy. You didn’t think he would comment about your sudden disappearance. Did he miss you? Was he disappointed when he didn’t find you in his arms anymore? Or. Is he testing the waters? He probably woke up with a boner and was wondering if he made you uncomfortable but doesn’t want to create an awkward situation by asking you outright. Right? That’s probably it-

”I was just getting ready for the trip tomorrow. Jiah and I went shopping. We didn’t have anything to wear to the beach.”

Seokjin acknowledges your words with a small hum as he’s focused on marinating the beef sprinkling it with various spices.

”Can’t wait to see you in it.” His smile is innocent and his intentions are probably as pure as snow so why are you blushing so hard? You and Jin saw each other in swimwear and went to the beach with mutual friends before but your approach the previous years was more cute than sexy. You don’t know what possessed you to go all out this year but Jiah whistled when you came out of the changing room. She said whoever your secret crush is he’ll probably go blind from your beauty so you’re counting on that.

***

”Hey! Nice of you two to finally join us.” You completely ignore Jimin’s jab at how late you are when you get to the airport. Jin rolling both of your suitcases. You don’t offer an answer; you’re all used to his teasing.

Your eyes are only halfway open when you lean on your best friend’s shoulder to support your weight. You’re not a morning person it took a lot of persuasion from Seokjin to get you out of bed.

Your earlier entrance made some of your friends suspiciously giggle and talk in hushed whispers. The fan club – as they like to call themselves. They have been shipping you with Jin since the first arrangements that you become roommates and while you show your disdain every time you secretly love the attention put on you two.

”Cute.” Hanma giggles when she saw you holding onto Jin’s shirt following him in.

He offered you the edge of his shirt to hold onto in hopes that you two won’t separate as you try to make your way to the guys inside the busy airport. He could see that you were still half asleep and he was afraid of losing sight of you in such a big place. He gave you occasional glances and slowed down his steps to match his pace with you.

He never fails to make your heart flutter with sweet gestures like this. He helps you with your luggage and carries your passports to show at the gates. Some might confuse him to be your boyfriend – Jin is naturally nice so always corrects the people politely but your heart sinks every time he smooths over the mistakes of other people.

You’re surprised that he choose the seat next to you and not one of the guys, beating your best friend to it. They played a childish game of rock paper scissors to decide who will sit next to you and in the end, Jin won.

You try to ignore the butterflies when he smiles so widely at you. You live together so you grew naturally closer – at first, you were surprised how people person he was. He was rooming with Yoongi for a long time but when he decided to take a further step in his relationship and move in together with his sweetheart, Jin had to look for another place and your roommate conveniently moved out not that long ago. You always wondered if it was fate. It seemed like a dream and most of the time it was.

You cook together and watch tv. A lot. He coaxes you out of your room to do things like watching his favourite dramas or just hang out and go bar-hopping with his friends. Simple things like that. Many pros but there are cons as well.

You think that you mastered your poker face when he occasionally brings girls home for the night. You never see them again but the fact that the walls are thin and you hear them moan his name makes the ugly head of jealousy roar to life.

You want to be the only girl that moans his name. Not only moan but – hold his hand, laugh at his dad jokes and make him feel good until his toes curl and he loses his mind. You want to be his girlfriend but it’s wishful thinking on your part.

He’s eight years older than you. He never dated younger girls and his last girlfriend was five years older than him. He likes mature older women – not girls like you in their early twenties.

”You’re always together Jin! Don’t think you can steal my best friend from me! She’s mine!” Jiah whines when she loses at the game and you have half the heart to make a peace offering when Jin pokes his tongue at his sister childishly.

Right. Mature.

”Enough. Both of you. I’m not anyone’s possession. Just sit next to each other. Final decision.” They both try to protest but you’re already out of your seat.

You find one empty so you make your way to the back and sit next to Namjoon. Finally some quiet and peace.

He gives you a sympathetic smile and pats the seat next to him for you to take and you do – gladly.

You enjoy his company and he’s been always easy to talk to. He let you cry on his shoulder when you broke up with your first boyfriend that no one knows about. It was messy. It was a secret relationship – not that you two dated for long.

Namjoon is the only one who knows about your feelings and to this day he kept your secret. You have a special place in your heart for Namjoon. You both confide in each other to tell things that you’re not comfortable telling to other people. You’re not the only one with a secret as he had the biggest crush on your best friend for years.

She’s oblivious to his attraction and it’s clear that Namjoon always has her best interest at heart. He doesn’t want to reveal himself in front of her and put her in a weird situation. The things he does for her are subtle – if you didn’t know of his feelings you would probably never pick up on the little things.

In a way, you’re both sitting in the same boat. There are nights when you two secretly hang out and talk about your crushes. It always feels good to ramble about them and get it all out so it’s a tradition by now.

”You can rest on my shoulder.” You hum in contentment his voice is nice and soothing it doesn’t take long for you to go back to sleep resting against Namjoon’s shoulders as he reads his book in silence.

Jin and Jiah bicker for a while – pointing fingers at each other about who was the cause of you to just leave them but quiet down when Namjoon scolds them and emphasises that you have already fallen back to sleep.

You and Namjoon made a promise not to try and get each other’s hopes up but that glance Seokjin shoots in your direction make him think. He’s been pretty much glued to your side and he knows for a fact, that he didn’t have a woman over for a while now. You always complain about them being loud but you didn’t for the last couple of weeks.

Namjoon looks at Seokjin’s approaching form suspiciously.

”Relax I won’t disturb her but she gets cranky when she’s not resting on her favourite pillow.” He lets him cradle your face between his palm softly and carefully place the pillow behind your head.

Jin gets a few locks of hair out of your face and places them behind your ears and a smile makes its way onto his features unknowingly.

”Tell me what you want.” You play with the hem of his shorts. Strong thighs quivering under your careful fingers. Your mouth is stretched into a vixen smile – moan softly when you picture a big fat cock to stretch it out instead.

”W- We shouldn't.” You lightly scoff. His mouth forms the words but his hips still jut when you ghost your touch over his prominent bulge. He wants you. You can feel it. Your gaze is feral as you look at Jin like a meal on a silver platter. He won’t stop you from touching him his mind keeps telling him to stop you but he won’t because deep down he doesn’t want to.

He wants you to whip out his dick and roll your tongue over his cockhead. Taste the precum of his desire. His eyes are blown out and his chest is moving up and down rapidly at the sight of you on your knees between his spread legs. Despite the position, he’s the one that’s wrapped around your pinky finger.

You know that look too well as you caress his clothed thighs running your fingers up and down in a soothing manner. He’s overthinking again.

”I can stop if it’s too much. I want you to feel good Seokjinnie. You don’t have to feel guilty.” Jin jumps when your head rests on his left thigh your breathing is shallow and calm – nothing like the hammering of his chest. His heart works overtime to pump his blood through his veins directing the flow to his cock rather than his head to think.

”N- No. Please don’t stop.” He catches your wrist when you give him some distance. Thinking that he’s pulling out of the situation. It prompted him to finally answer – and it’s truthful. He doesn’t want to stop in spite of everything in him screaming that he should.

His feelings are conflicted but his fingers weave themselves into your messy hair and gather it into a low ponytail. You feel like the forbidden fruit tempting him and leading him to his downfall. It’s only a thin wall separating your bodies from his sister sleeping next door. Unbestowned to the sinful actions of the two most important people in her life. What kind of brother he is to want his sister’s best friend’s mouth on his cock?

His eyes focus on the object of his desire, your lips. Pink and swollen from biting. Your tongue pokes out to slick your lips to glisten and make them more inviting.

”Tell me that you want it. If you don’t you have to tell me now.” Of course, the last thing you want is to stop but this is not just about you. It’s better to stop now than for him later to realise it was a mistake on his part. You wouldn’t be able to handle that if he did.

”I shouldn’t- I really shouldn’t want your mouth wrapped around my cock but Y-Y/N I w-want it so bad.” You hum grazing his inner thighs with your nails.

”You can have it. My mouth is yours to take.” Seokjin blushes but nods. His fingers shake as he undoes his pants and gets his underwear down his legs showing you his hard cock. It’s dripping the pink tip is swollen as beads of precum bubble out from the small slit. You put your mouth around the round head and taste him for the first time –

”Y/N. What is this?” His tone makes you wince. He never talked to you like this before – with anger laced with his tone. His ears are red and his eyes are distant when you keep looking at the floor avidly avoiding his harsh stare that pokes a hole into your head – hoping to gain some confidence to reply. This is your worst nightmare.

Him finding out – nonetheless this way. His reaction twists the knife in your heart even more.

You look over the words on your open computer. Your heart seizes in panic as you look between the hard lines of his forehead and your filthy words – practically telling him everything that you tried so hard to keep as a secret for years.

”I’m s-sorry.” Don’t know what else to say. Seokjin nearly growls and runs his hands through his hair as if it would decrease the humiliation of his finding. His thoughts are all over the place. The considerate boy is long gone when his harsh words pierce through your bleeding heart.

”What are you sorry for huh? Getting caught or writing porn with my name?” You flinch when he drops the laptop on the bed with a loud thud. He was never violent. The thought of you thinking about him that way disgusts him this much?

You’re lost for words as Jin walks up and down in your room trying to calm down. The tears you tried to keep at bay fall freely when his words hit you.

His frantic movements stop when he hears a pained sniff. His glare softens when he sees you cry and he bawls his hands in a fist to keep himself rooted to his spot. His first instinct is to comfort you but he’s still distraught by everything he read.

”Delete it.” This is the only thing he says before he slams the door behind him.

Your soft cries fill the room. He hates you. You should have been more careful. Shouldn’t let him be in your room when you weren’t around. It’s too late for that now. He hates you – he’s probably disgusted by you.

After he stormed out of your room that night you barely have seen him. It certainly put a damper on your vacation plans but you can’t blame him for reacting that way. It makes you sad that he opted for avoiding you all together rather than talking to you about it.

You tried to apologise but he didn’t take too kindly at you for visiting his room so you gave him the time alone that he needed. Namjoon is the only one who you told what happened and he offered to knock some sense into the boy but you pulled him back by his hands to leave it.

Namjoon is a good friend to the both of you and he could understand his reaction but the way he talked to you was not justified.

He kept by your side during the whole trip and you were glad to have some distraction from everything that happened. You were existing in the same room during the activities but he never even glanced your way or addressed you.

It felt like you were invisible that the friendship you built just crumbled like that.

You dreaded the day that you had to go back to your apartment. You tried to hide your disappointment when he asked Jimin to let him crash at his place for a while. You know he will move out sooner or later. It felt like your friendship was unsalvageable at this point.

You even told Jiah that you like his brother. She kept asking about what happened between the two of you. The tension could be cut with a knife and everyone noticed how the two of you drifted apart when before you were almost inseparable. She was shocked and you expected her to yell at you too but to your surprise, she took the news quite alright.

You had a heartfelt conversation while you both cried your eyes out. It felt good to tell her everything despite the situation. Whenever you thought about Jin your heart squeezed painfully. You haven’t seen him for at least a month now. Legally you still shared the apartment but you know he’s been looking for another place to stay. The last time he looked at you was when you were in your room after he discovered your erotic story about him. Jiah was your rock – and Namjoon too.

You could tell that they grew closer because of you, they talked more and hung out without you. You were hopeful that at least they got together in the end. They took really good care of you and you were really grateful for them to help you feel better.

You announced your indefinite hiatus on your blog and while some were noisy the majority of them wished you good luck with whatever you were struggling with. You were thinking of deleting the whole thing.

You buried yourself under work and continued on your real projects.

You were in the kitchen having some late-night snack. What you didn’t expect is for Jin to show up one day at your door he kept fidgeting with his key as he tried to coordinate his movements and slide the key into the hole.

He was flat-out drunk. His eyes are glazed over in a drunkness hue and he is swooning like he could trip over his feet at any given moment. You haven’t seen him act like this ever – he’s completely shit-faced. You want to give him space knowing that the last thing he wants is to see your face so you abandon your snack on the counter and try to leave but he doesn’t let you get too far.

Your eyes grow wide when he pushes you against your door before you could slip away into the comfort of your room. His breath smelled like he consumed a lot of whiskey on his night out and you don’t think your assumption is too far-fetched from the truth.

It breaks your heart that he has to be this drunk to even face you.

”You’re drunk. You should lay down.” You place both hands on his stomach to keep some distance as he sways.

It wasn’t the most coherent but you could get the gist of his words that would awfully sound like: ”I bw-read your blog. All offfff it.”

You look away in shame – ready to hear him yell again but he doesn’t. He forces you to face him with a firm grip on your chin.

”It bwans’t jsut sex. You swaid you likeed me.”

You try to push him away and get some space between you but he doesn’t relent. Who would have thought that he’s so strong while drunk?

”This is something we should discuss while you’re sober. We will talk in the morning. As, if you’ll be still here.” It was pointless to mask your hurt and he could see that. You looked hurt and thin like you were not eating properly.

The empty fridge seems to be a big hint of that. His head pounds from the headache but he could remember everything from yesterday.

You took care of him. Helped him lay down on his bed and even got him painkillers with a glass of water to sit on his bedside table for when he woke up.

He didn’t think about you at all or your feelings until Namjoon beat some sense into him. It was too much and too sudden. He was fighting these feelings and discovering your dirty little secret just made it all blow up in his face.

He was too deep to think about how his words affected you. He knows it won’t be enough to earn your forgiveness but it should be a good start. He makes some breakfast and waits for you patiently to appear.

You come out, blinking away the sleepiness when the view makes you stop in your tracks. You rub your eyes again in case you’re still somehow dreaming.

Seokjin. Standing in the kitchen, cooking. It’s something you haven’t witnessed for the last few weeks – it feels foreign to see him flip a honey brown pancake on their other side. To be truthful after he left you haven’t felt like cooking (it reminded you too much of him – you used to do all the cooking together and it felt wrong to do it all alone) mostly living off of fast food or eat at your friend’s place if they offered.

”You’re here.” It comes out as if you’re in disbelief and – you are. Seokjin was drunk yesterday. You thought it was a mistake that he came home and would surely leave in the morning before you woke up.

You didn’t think he would be here.

”Yes. Are- are you hungry?” He asks carefully as if you’re a wounded animal that could flee at any given moment. He could barely look you in the eye and it hurts. It’s never been so awkward before and you hate that you made it this way. The tension surrounding your body has a strong grip on your throat. It’s your fault that things went South in your friendship. You don’t even know it could be fixed anymore.

”S- Sure.” You take tentative steps into the kitchen and sit down opposite him. He places two servings down and you eat silently with a gaping hole in between. Usually, you would sit close to each other but not this time, there’s no easy banter or laughing either. It’s all so still.

”I- uh so, uh. Fuck, it’s hard. I guess what I want to say is that. I’m sorry.” Jin places his hand on top of yours – you two always used touch as a comforting gesture – but you pull your hand away without thinking. You think you saw hurt flash in his eyes but he looked undeterred in making up with you.

”It’s ok. I should be the one who says sorry. It was improper of me and it will never happen again.” You look away, your moves are mechanical as you slice into your pancakes. You’re not hungry and the food tastes like paper in your mouth. You miss the dejected look on his face while you focus on your plate.

He should have known it won’t be that easy to get things back to where it was.

He hates that you look so defensive and uncomfortable being in the same room. He deserves this reaction. Namjoon’s words ring in his ears like a mantra.

The way he acted and yelled at you was so unlike him. He said things that night that he didn’t mean and regretted. Namjoon told him how it wore you down while he was confused with his feelings – he hurt you badly. You can’t even look at him now and he hates that he did this to you. He misses your smile.

”No, it’s not okay. I’m sorry for yelling I didn’t mean the things I said I regretted saying them the minute I did. I read your blog and- y-you said that you like me. Is it, true?” If you didn’t know better you might think he looks hopeful. But what he said stuck in your head on repeat. [What are you sorry for huh? Getting caught or writing porn with my name?]

”I did.” You settle for that answer for now. Seeing him again and how painful it is to even be in the same house opened your eyes to how wrong it was for you to fantasise about him. You will make yourself stop liking him. This is the only way you can still salvage your friendship. He’s clearly not interested based on his reaction and you couldn’t blame him.

”The past tense means? You- don’t like me anymore? I-Is it because of what I said?” Jin seems nervous and somewhat, disappointed in your answer but you don’t let your mind linger on that for long. This is for the best.

”I want us to forget about this. This is how we could be friends again.”

You get up and leave but there was unmistakable sadness carried in your eyes. Your pancake is nearly untouched you only took two bites and Jin slumps in his chair sighing. He wanted this conversation to play out differently.

It took too long for him to figure out his own feelings. It looks like he’s always a beat late when it comes to you.

Jin cringes when he thinks about your conversation that happened half a day ago.

”That sucks man but at least now you’re on speaking terms again.” Seokjin sighs. He half-heartedly agrees because he did move back into your shared apartment but it’s far from how it used to be. You’re distant. No more cooking together you don’t even watch shows together on the couch after your late-night writing sessions.

If he’s not going out of his way to see you he bet you wouldn’t even leave your room. You’re only a door away but it feels like there are oceans between you now.

You said you’re working on your book and he knows it’s the truth because your blog is deleted by the time he tries to check it out again.

You meant it when you said you want to forget about the last couple of weeks and while you pretend it never happened – it’s clear that it still bothers you. You’re avoiding him. Even in friend outings, you’re barely speaking to him and choose the seat farthest away from him. Everyone noticed the shift in your dynamics but no one dares to comment on it. Namjoon advised him to give you time, you’re probably just feeling embarrassed and he couldn’t blame you when he reacted that way. The things he said – he wishes he could just turn back time and take a deep breath instead.

He felt betrayed when he first saw your writing and he felt embarrassed that people all over the world read about sexual things with his name in it he replayed what happened at the hotel numerous times and he regrets everything.

Ever since he played with the thought of you and him in the same sentence it became clearer that he could actually picture it happening. Too bad he’s weeks late and now it seems like you will never open up to him again.

”Barely. She’s still avoiding me Joon.” Namjoon finds his older friend’s pout comical.

”Clearly since you’re out drinking again. You know that if you get drunk it doesn’t mean the situation will solve itself.” Of course, he knows it. Jin annoyingly sighs again and Namjoon has to bite his lip to not tell him to stop whining and instead do something about it.

”I’m just so lost about what to do.” Jin swirls his drink looking intently at the bottom of his whiskey in case the key to his problems will be somehow buried under the fifth cup of alcohol.

”Well – did you try to apologise?” Jin snorts. Namjoon could barely hear his answer murmured under his nose. ”Of course, I apologised that was the first thing that I did.”

”Did you explain to her why you reacted that way? That you given it a thought and you would like to try something if she’s still interested? Did you tell her that?”

It’s the following silence that has Namjoon shake his head in disbelief. For the first time since he arrived, Jin looks up from his drink and looks kinda panicked.

”S- She didn’t let me explain.” Even he knows it’s a poor excuse. The truth is he chickened out. You used the past tense as ‘liked you’ and he felt too afraid to say anything. He was confused for the longest time if what he started feeling after you ignored him was genuine or if he was just missing the normality you two always had. He’s afraid that things will change drastically and he would hate to lose you.

He’s still not a hundred percent sure but he probably never will be all he could do is try and see what happens. That’s life. There’s no guide on how to live your life just like there’s no guide to tell him if things would work out between you two. Things are already not normal between you. Even if he hates to admit it he wouldn’t be able to go back to just being your friend anymore after knowing the truth about your feelings. He just needs to take a leap of fate and hope for the best. It’s also easier said than done.

”You need to try until she listens. She deserves an explanation Jin. As I see it she probably avoids you so you couldn’t reject her again. She doesn’t know that you’re not trying to do that she only goes with the assumptions your little outburst created in her head. The only way you can fix your relationship with her is, to be honest. Tell her how you feel. She’s not a mind reader you have to spell it out for her to understand.”

Jin knows Namjoon is right. The question is what he’s going to do about it.

Jin also knows this is not the best time to initiate this conversation but he decides to knock on your door after standing in front of it finally done contemplating.

Your eyes are tired but widen when you see him and while your lights are off your laptop gives off a light behind you that indicates you are still awake. It's 3 in the morning.

Jin smells like alcohol again, but he doesn't seem as hammered as when he first came home. He almost looks painfully sober.

"Did you just get home?" Unsure what to say you ask carefully. Your fingers grip the door until your knuckles are turning white. You're wearing black shorts with a tank top and you're clearly not wearing a bra as Jin can see the outline of your breasts.

Realising his mistake, he focuses back on your face thanks to the dim lighting of the place you didn't notice how he was ogling at your chest a moment ago.

Even after talking big to Namjoon not an hour ago in the bar about how he's going to confess to you being in front of you makes the words escape him and lose all confidence he had left. You look so pretty in his eyes dressed in casual clothes.

The worst that could happen is hearing your rejection. Jin wouldn't blame you after all he said and done. However, things can't go on as they are now. The distance is killing him and he hates how you avoid his looks or touches when it was welcomed before.

"I want to talk to you about something. Can I come in?" He gets it out after some silence and you seemingly contemplate accepting it. It's late and he is drunk. As if he could read your mind he's quick to assure you he didn't have that much tonight. He wasn't even out for that long.

"Alright, come in." You sigh tiredly and you step away to let him in. You don't want to have this conversation right now but you know that Jin is stubborn and it's best to hear it now than prolong this painful thing you have going on. You hate this, it's awkward you don't know how to react to his words or how to move according to his touches. You're ridden with guilt thinking that you created this situation but also angry with Jin. After avoiding you for a month he's back and acting like nothing happened between you.

You motion for your bed for him to sit and you take a seat on your rolling chair. You keep sitting opposite him when before you would always sit beside him but he doesn't say anything as he's the only one to blame for this. Of course, you're heartbroken and angry. Jin is very bad when he has to confront someone or a situation but he needs to do that or else he might really lose you forever, if you haven't already given up on him but he still has hope that you will say yes.

"I know I said this before but I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. I don't even know what I was thinking but what I'm sure about is that after not seeing you I started to think about you more deeply. I never thought about you that way I admit it but after constantly thinking about you I think I actually like you." His words are not the best to express his thoughts but he hopes you can interpret them in a good way. Your expression is not that bright so he tries to help the situation while mumbling more words.

Trying to make things right desperately.

"If you're only saying that to..." You don't have to try and finish your sentence before he's quick to correct it.

"No! Um, no. That's not it, I'm not just saying it because I want to smooth things over. I miss being with you. I miss you so much and I hate that you avoid me now even though I know I deserve it. I'm sorry Y/N, I'm really selfish. I want to have your love again even after I said that. I know I am late but I swear if you give me a chance I'll try my hardest to make you fall in love with me again." You're too stunned to react when he suddenly gets on his knees to beg for forgiveness as his last attempt to convince you. Jin clasps your hands and squeezes them.

"J-Jin." He doesn't let you pull away as he holds your hand against his cheek. "You can stand up." You put your other hand on his shoulder feeling weird about seeing him on his knees. You didn't have time to fully grasp what was happening.

If he did this two months ago you would be over the moon. Is he saying what you think he is saying?

"I won't until you forgive me. Y/N please." You feel pressured but on the other hand, you still have those butterflies in your stomach. You don't think he will let up if you ask him for more time to consider so you silently consider your options now.

He did hurt your feelings but you know Jin would never lie to you. You believe that what he said now is the truth. If he truly considered your feelings and feels like giving it a try with you. You could take one and give your heart a chance.

This time you won't need to hide it anymore. Your friendship cannot go on as it is - and even if in the end it doesn't work out you could at least say you tried your best.

"Alright. I will forgive you Jin." You cup his face with both hands. Jin looks up at you with a silly smile at seeing your expression soften and he pulls you down for a puppy kiss.

It's nothing but lip on the lip but it's finally happening. Jin is kissing you.

You smile into it before it can deepen but neither of you minds it. "Are you going to get up now?"

You help him up after he nods. He lets out a little laughter feeling good after you accept his confession. Both of you just stare at each other after that in the middle of the room unable to move.

"Good night Jin." Unsure what to do you think it's best to leave things at that. It's almost 4 am. Seokjin can sense your hesitance even though you cleared your feelings it's clear that you don't know what you're allowed and not allowed to do.

"Can I stay? I missed you a lot." Jin pulls you close by holding onto your waist. He can feel it on his skin how your heartbeat accelerates as he closes the gap. He kisses your jaw and your fingers tighten around the material of his shirt.

"S-sure." Unable to resist his charms you agree to sleep together. While Jin goes to change his clothes and shower you tidy up your room a bit. You're already under the covers when Jin comes back. The last thing you feel is how he kisses your cheeks and whispers a good night before you close your tired eyes enveloped in his warm arms.

The next time your friends gathered you showed up with Jin hand in hand. After the initial shock wore off everyone congratulated you and Jin on your newfound love. Some things changed but some aren’t. He’s still as sweet to you as ever, you cook together watch movies and talk late into the night but your relationship now has a bonus that you were unable to experience in your friendship. The kisses.

When you’re talking with your friends he sometimes kisses the top of your head pulls you close to his side or holds your hand under the table. Just some subtle romantic actions but they make your heart flutter. There are times when Jin comes home from work and you greet him with a sweet peck. Sometimes it grows into a makeout session. With you on his lap and your fingers in his hair feverishly exchanging kisses on the couch. Or when you’re getting ready to bed he pulls you close under the covers and kisses you until you’re breathless.

Today is one of those days when you two get carried away with the kisses. Jin had a stressful day at work. Some people complained that the food was bad and he had to smooth things over when a waiter got into an argument with a customer. The first thing he did when he got home was hug you close and breathe in your calming scent. You could tell that something was bothering Jin but you hugged him back and offered him your comfort. You didn’t think things would get this heated.

Jin suddenly kissed you like you were the air that he desperately needed to survive he hungrily started to devour your lips until they got swollen and pink. Before anything could escalate you always find a way to stop. If Jin initiates the make-outs then you always put an end to it before the clothes could get unbuttoned.

Jin read the blog and read all about your fantasies so he knows you’re not particularly shy or innocent. At first, he just thought you were not ready and he wanted to wait for you so he never mentioned anything but now he thinks differently. He heard you one morning when he had to come back for his keys when you thought he left for work you pleasured yourself in your shared bed he could hear you moan his name. You always stop before anything could get too heated and he thinks it’s because you’re afraid to initiate anything sexual not because you don’t want to but because you’re afraid to appear too needy.

Today he’s not letting you get away.

He stops you from getting up from his lap. Jin knows that you can feel his bulge underneath you. Continues his kisses down your throat to your collarbones that poke out from under your t-shirt. Your fingers grip his wide shoulders as you try to remain calm, small sighs escape you as he keeps peppering your skin with his wet kisses. You want to roll your hips to get some relief but you’re afraid you wouldn’t be able to control yourself anymore if you did. This is exactly what Jin wants though. He pulls you impossibly close bucking his hips up to you with a firm hold on you he rubs his clothed cock between your legs until you start to soak his lap. Pushing his tongue into your mouth he swallows your needy sounds but he’s no better at keeping his voice down. The small whimpers that escape only fuel your arousal. You swear he knows what he’s doing to you. You try to get away before it gets too much but Jin desperately clings to you as if he reads your mind he opens his mouth to protest.

“Don’t stop please.” Jin continues to guide your hips pushing you against his fully hard cock he wants to take it out already but he holds himself back. His doe eyes meet your half-lidded ones as he chases the friction he craves.

You bite back a moan when you take in the sight under you. He’s so perfect. He holds onto you tightly like he’s afraid you will disappear. It feels like your concerns were unfounded after seeing the unlimited desire in his passionate eyes. You were afraid to have sex with Jin after what happened before. You thought he thought you were dirty after writing sex scenes with his name. It seems like you were wrong. He doesn’t think you’re dirty or undesirable it’s clearly written on his face what he wants.

You relax into his embrace and kiss him lovingly. You want to give him everything he wants. You put your hand above his heart you can feel how his heart beats fast under your palm getting under his spell you continue your journey down his stomach until you catch the side of his waistband and play with it. You explore further your kisses reach his neck your teeth and tongue create dark marks on his skin as your fingers palm him over his clothes. Jin’s hand tighten around your waist he lets out his sounds freely appreciating the care and attention you willingly give to him. Molding against your body he becomes putty in your hands.

“You’re so pretty Jinie.” Shyness blooms on his face at your compliment he buries his face into your shoulders moaning when you increase your hand movements. He’s getting so worked up by your little touches. Your tongue darts out to lick a long stripe up his neck lastly pulling his ear between your teeth. “My pretty baby is getting close? It feels like you’re about to burst. You won’t let anyone else touch you like this right? Only I want to see you like this.” You grab the side of his face with one hand forcing him to open his eyes and look at you.

Your fierce gaze makes Jin gulp down the accumulated saliva in his mouth. He opened it to answer but he could only let out his moans. It’s hard to form a coherent sentence when your hand rubs him so well. You won’t let him get away with it as you push your thumb into his mouth and press on his tongue. Jin can only whine as your finger gets coated in his saliva his eyes stay unfocused as you rub harder. He feels this incredible tightness in his lower stomach signalling his approaching end.

“Tell me that you’re mine and I will let you cum. Be a pretty boy and say it.” Your fingers leave his mouth so he can tell you. He tells you with tears glistening in his eyes the pleasure is too great to handle as he comes in his pants.

“Yours, only yours.” He pants whines and whimpers his whole body shakes as you guide him through his orgasm.

“My Jinie.” You kiss him swallowing his noises. His heart skips a beat your possessive side only adds to your appeal. He never heard you talk like that you say the most sinful things and he loves every second of it.

He doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed about cumming in his pants as you keep devouring his lips your desire growing bigger as you get frustrated as you’re soaking wet and didn’t do anything to relieve yourself.

You only pull away to get rid of your clothes. Seeing your naked body Jin feels the blood leave his head and travel down to his cock. Getting harder again. Jin parts your folds with two fingers his lips are on your neck tasting your skin as he works your pussy. You’re so wet his fingers glide on your sensitive skin easily. One finger sinks into you while his thumb keeps rubbing your clit eliciting sweet moans from you.

You clamp down on the finger inside getting close to your release. Your face is tucked into his shoulders. Jin watches as you ride his fingers slipping a second one inside at the same time you pull him out of his pants and wrap your hand around his shaft.

You kiss and moan into each other’s mouths building a steady rhythm together. You stop his fingers before you could cum around them.

“Want you in me.” Jin nods eagerly pulling your hips up until your opening is aligned with his tip. You sink down slowly feeling each vein and twitch of his cock as it gets buried inside your wet heat.

You ride it fast and deep chasing your end that got denied before you didn’t need much to reach it. It took some swirls of his finger on your sensitive clit to pulse around his cock and milk him with your release. The wetness provided an easy glide Jin could guide you up and down his cock easily until he cums deep inside you a few minutes later.

“You feel so good.” You smile into the kiss. This was way better than your imagination. Kim Seokjin. Jin or Jinie shortened for friends and family. Your bestest friend’s older brother and your current roommate of nine months, nine hours and – a brief look at your wristwatch – twenty minutes and now your new lover.

[livwritesstuff]

Steve closed down his computer after his last therapy session of the day (it was a short day – it’s only three in the afternoon), and swiveled around in his chair to look out the window onto his backyard.

It’s nice out. He could go for a walk around the neighborhood or putter around the yard for a while –  probably one of the last opportunities before the fall weather starts to turn on them.

He knows he isn’t going to do either of those things though. Instead, he’s gonna sit around keeping one eye on his phone because he knows his oldest daughter Moe’s course schedule and he knows she’s about to be heading to her next class which means she’s probably going to be calling him just like she’d done two other times today.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later, Steve’s phone started to ring with a call from Moe.

“Hey,” he said as he answered the call.

“Hi Pop,” she replied, her voice coming through the phone a little crackly, broken up by the sound of wind and city traffic around her.

“You on your way to class?”

“Uh-huh. That chem for engineers course – Pop, you wouldn’t believe the shit that rats get up to in this city. It’s crazy. I literally just saw a massive one dragging a whole bag of those little…you know…the red cheese – well, the cheese isn’t red, it’s just–”

“Babybels,” Steve finishes for her.

“Yeah, those! Pop – an entire bag of Babybel cheese being dragged down the street by a rat," Moe exclaims before immediately heading down another tangent.

Two months into Moe’s freshman year of college, Steve thinks she might be a little bit lonely.

She’s always been independent (sometimes to a scary extent, if he’s honest) and she’d handled most of the transition like a champ, but that kind of independence has its ups and downs, and Moe’s never been all that great at the social stuff. Unlike her sisters, she hadn’t had a big group of friends in high school, just a few good ones that she’d made early on in school and stuck with until graduation.

Now, he thinks she might be having some trouble with the whole making new friends piece of moving to a brand new city (goddamn New York City, because these kids won’t let him see a second of peace, and even though he trusts Moe and knows she can take care of herself, Steve still isn’t really in a place yet where he can sleep easy knowing she’s out there on her own).

He knows that Moe will find her people just like he had done years ago. In the meantime, she's been fulfilling that human need for social interaction through lots of calls with him and Eddie (and he'd once even caught Moe and Robbie on a video call together, which he's pretty sure had never happened before).

Steve’s not gonna complain. He’d pretty much drop anything to talk to his kids.

After a few minutes, the background noise coming from Moe's side of the call fades away.

"Okay, I have to go," Moe says, "I might call you later."

"I'm around," Steve replies, because for her (for all his kids), he'll always be.

"'Kay. Love you Pop."

"I love you too."

He waits a beat for Moe to end the call and when she does, he gets up, sticks his phone in his back pocket so he'll know when it rings again, and goes on with his day.

[readychilledwine]

hiii can i request cassian with single mom reader? she’s his mate, but she has a child from a previous relationship vibes

Girl Dad Cass is back. ❤️ just in a different situation.

To Have and To Hold

Summary - Cassian and reader are finally saying their vows after a few years of courting, but there's other vows Cassian finds just as important.

Warning - fluff? Cassian being mushy?

A/n - I wanted to leave the reader and her daughter as undescriptive as possible. I really need to try a boy dad cassian, but he just screams girl dad energy. Ps- peep the cute divider from @firefly-graphics tons of cute options

Cassian had seen the two of plenty of times. You two were constantly walking around the Rainbow, or in book stores, or shopping.

He never saw a male with you, though, and if his wife and daughter were as pretty as you two, you would have never been unaccompanied. He arrived to Feyre's studio one day to pick Nyx up from class. The little heir was playing with your daughter, beaming so brightly about being around another little one his age. He couldn't stop his curious nature and asked. He found out from Feyre who you were, that your daughter had no father, just a coward of a male who had packed up and ran as soon as he found out protection failed.

That is when you started noticing Cassian around Velaris more. He'd start coming to the bakery you and your daughter loved. Hed be at the children's book reading done by Gwyn at the library her and her mate had opened. He'd be helping Feyre with her art classes.

One day, you were running late picking up your daughter from her art classes. You were at a shift at one of the many pleasure halls and had to help the other bar mistress break up a nasty fight between a male you'd later learn was Azriel and an idiot who'd made a comment about forcing you into his bed. A few stitches gently put into the illyrian males cheek later, and you finally arrived with him at your side. Your daughter and Cassian were deep into a conversation. Her little hands and arms were moving so quickly as you figured out slowly that they were discussing the possibility of Helion and the Day Court hiding unicorns. 

That was the beginning of this beautiful journey. She had begged Cassian to join you two for dinner and snacks that next day, and you couldn't say no to her bright eyes and wide smile, writing your address on a piece of parchment and handing it to the Illyrian male. You joked now that Cassian courted her first. He took her flying long before he ever took you, took her out for ice cream once a week, took her to little dinners and play dates with Nyx. He began joining you two for meals twice a week. Sometimes a breakfast before flying her to school lessons. Sometimes a surprise picnic lunch on a weekend. 

It took a full 3 months of this for your guard to drop. He finally asked you out when it did. "Just the two of us," he had said, and with childcare already planned out by him, you said yes. He had thought of everything. Arriving with Azriel early so your daughter could be taken to the Riverhouse, bringing you beautiful flowers from the garden planted by the High Lady's sister, and even a pick up time for your daughter that night. 

That became the new routine. Once a week, Cassian would take you out, then your daughter would get her Cassian night the next evening. A year later, he had moved you two into the House of Wind where he ensured your daughter had a playroom filled with toys, another little study room with books for her lessons, and her own bedroom with a big girl bed and fluffy pink sheets.

She fell for Cassian as hard as you had. And now, 3 years later, that all felt like a fading memory as Feyre and Gywn helped you lace up the pretty off white gown you were about to marry him in. A soft knock had the three of you turning towards the door as Rhys strolled in, picking at his black suit with a soft smile. 

"I was sent to find the little princess. Is she ready?" As if your daughter knew she was being summoned, she ran into the room, throwing herself into Rhys open arms as he lifted her. She looked so beautiful and grown in her soft white dress that glittered like fresh snow, her long hair curled and pinned with a flower crown and gems. "Cassian just wants a few moments with her before the big ceremony. Is that okay?" You rose a brow but nodded. "Let's go see Cass, princess."

You looked at Gwyn and then Feyre, both of them had small smiles on their faces. "I cannot hide this from you," Feyre finally said. "Come on, but we have to be very quiet." The two of them walked you to a little area that had been set up without your knowledge. A floral archway with purple wisteria hanging from it came into view, and centered under that archway, glowing up the dying light of the setting sun, was your daughter, both of her little hands swallowed by Cassian's large ones.

He was on his knees in front of her, sitting back on his calves. A priestess stood near them, speaking to them about the importance of family, regardless of it being by blood, how it is always the male of the house's duty to protect those he loves, and how it is a father's duty to ensure his daughter is taught how a male should treat her. "Cassian, is there anything you'd like to say to (daughter's name)?"

Cassian cleared his throat and nodded. "I want you to know I'm not just marrying your momma today because I love her. I'm marrying her because I love you. I love your little nose," he placed a gentle kiss on her nose.  "I love your giggle," he tickled her sides making her bell-like laugher sing into the air. "I love our adventures, I love playing your knight in shining armor saving you from the dragon's keep or storming castles in your honor. I love bragging about you to my family constantly."

He paused and wiped a tear from her cheeks. "I know I'm not your dad, babygirl, but I want you to know I'll always love you like you're mine. I'll protect you with my life. I'll love you until my heart stops, and even then, I will love you when I find you in the next world and lifetime." A little I love you interrupted his speech, making Cassian's voice break for the next question. "Is it okay if I start calling you my daughter?"  You watched as her curls bounced with how aggressively she was nodding. You watched as she threw herself into Cassian's arms, and he lifted her, holding her against his chest before letting the priestess know they were ready.

Feyre quickly winnowed you back to the dressing room, fixing the makeup the tears you didn't know you were crying ruined. Rhys returned to the room, seconds later, "I hate to ruin you having a flower girl, but she refuses to leave Cassian's side. We are all ready if you are." He offered Feyre his arm and the two left to take their places as witnesses. 

Gwyn left with a soft kiss placed on top of your head, "Azriel and I will be the cute ones right next to where you and Cass will be standing!"

You paused at the doors to the ceremony chamber. Taking a few stilling breaths, you nodded for the doors to be opened, and you began the walk. The room was beautiful. Strings of fae lights echoed the stars. Candles adding to the illumination of the room, setting a soft warm glow to everything. You couldn't look at anything but Cassian in stunned silence, though. His jaw and face had fallen in shock, tears forming in his eyes. Your face mirrored his and tears started to genuinely fall. 

The scent of it hit Rhysand first. He started laughing silently. It made sense now. All of this made sense now. He told Azriel to take your daughter and he did instantly. 

Cassian moved to you, crushing you to his chest as soon as you were within reach. "Mate," he whispered softly. "I can't believe you're my mate."

"Cassian, babe, we're making a scene."

"It's our wedding. We can make as big of a scene as we want." You two didn't notice your daughter wiggling out of Azriel's arms until both of you were being pulled to the priestess by her little hands. 

"Hurry up and make him my daddy." She demanded before returning to Azriel with her arms up. "Tisk tisk momma." She looked at you, blinking her eyes as she stomped her foot like sass had become her first language.

You held your arms up in defeat. "Alright alright. So demanding," you turned to the High Priestess. "Could you marry me to this male so he can be my daughter's daddy?"

Cassian's eyes were watering again. He sniffled lightly before turning to Azriel to take your daughter back and holding her tight against his side. "General, are you ready?" He nodded, kissing her temple as she leaned into his shoulder. "We are gathered here tonight to watch the union of two souls," the words faded as soon as Cassian took your hand in his, you were focused solely on him, on that new string sparkling between you two, and the happy tears your daughter was crying as she held her dad. 

You wiped one of her tears gently with your free hand after the ceremony when the three of you were alone under that floral arch where he had made his vows to her. "Are you happy, babygirl?"

Cassian still held her tight, refusing to yield her to anyone since she had called him daddy. "Why wouldn't I be? I have my mommy, my daddy, and there's cake."

"Mmmm there is cake." Cassian agreed. "Specifically your favorite chocolate cake with a layer of fudge. Too bad Uncle Az is going to eat it all before you get to." She didn't realize the glint in his eyes was playful, that he was teasing her. 

"Siege the castle, daddy. Bring me my cake."

Cassian seemed to relish the word as it continued to fall from her mouth. Settling her on his back as she pointed to the room, a loud reception party was taking place in. "As my princess wishes." He took off running through the open doors and straight to the cake table Azriel and Rhys were currently admiring. The winged males jumped back, hands held up as your daughter demanded they handed over their plates of cake and sweets.

You looked up to the stars in their all knowing and twinkling glory and two simple words fell from your lips, "Thank you."

[dameronology]

liar (bucky barnes)

based on the paramore song of the same name lol a.k.a the one where bucky barnes is scared of his own feelings a.k.a jazz is back in her bucky era

warnings; language

enjoy!!

-jazz

Bucky Barnes had never considered himself a liar.

If anything, he had a hard time not telling the truth. It escaped from his mouth before he even had the chance to think about; no, Steve, I think your new hair cut sucks and sorry Sam, she wasn’t actually checking you out, she was waving at the guy behind you. Call it a product of his years as an assassin - because he couldn’t recall being this truthful back in the war - but it was part of who he was now. Sometimes he thought it meant he should come with a warning; something to say don’t pull the pin on this grenade, because he won’t lie to your mum about liking her food. Would that have been the worst Tinder bio ever? Yeah, no doubt.

Bucky had a hard time even lying to himself. That had become clear as soon as you whirl-whinded into his life. That day was still as crystal clear in his head six months later. It had been an early morning at the SHIELD HQ - the F-train had been delayed an hour and he’d come sprinting into a national security meeting, Starbucks in one hand (he was already late, he figured five minutes more for a frappuccino wouldn’t hurt) and a jumbled apology ready to offer. Then, not two seconds later, you’d come sprinting through the door, smacking into the back of him and launching the iced coffee from his hand, into the air, and straight into the lap of the British prime minister. 

Bucky was late, but you’d been even later. He liked that about you.

You were a whirl-wind in his life; his best friend from that day forward and the reason he could let go of the breath he’d been holding for so many years. Meetings were never boring with you, nor was the paperwork after long missions or the early starts. Every time he was late, he knew you’d take even longer because maybe his commute from Brooklyn was long but you lived three blocks away from work and managed to sleep through every goddamn alarm you’d set. 

It was clear about exactly three seconds after you met that you and Bucky were not destined to just be friends. You knew it and he knew it but neither of you wanted to talk about it. Avoiding the truth wasn’t necessarily lying - Bucky was thankful for that, because he knew that if you asked, everything would come out. He wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready for love. 

So, you both left it to rest (and maybe to rot). 

“I hate meetings,” you grumbled. It was eight o’clock on a Monday morning and thanks to a national security threat, you once again found yourself in the SHIELD meeting room earlier than you felt to be natural. “Can’t they just put this in an email?”

“Probably,” Bucky replied. “Hi guys, there’s a terrorist threat. If you see something, say something. Lots of love, the security council.” 

You snorted. “Did you know I have all of their emails sent straight to my spam?”

“I would do the same but I can’t work out how the Facebook app works,” he muttered. “Why are there so many buttons? What are cookies?”

“Buck, why would you have the security council on Facebook?”

“Isn’t that…” he paused, scratching the back of his head. “Isn’t that where emails go?”

You dropped your head in your hands and let out a groan. “I only just got you used to Twitter. I’ll leave it a few weeks before I overwhelm you with any more social media apps.”

“What about TikTok?”

“I am never letting you download TikTok,” you said. 

“Sam said that I should make thirst traps-”

“- please no!” you cut him off. “Never take life advice from Sam.”

Sam was sat across the table from you, a scowl on his face. He was a morning person - hell, the man had already been for a run that morning - but the combination of you and Bucky at any point in the day was enough to drive him up the wall. He glanced between you both, brown eyes calculating for a second, before a grin spread across his face. 

“Don’t worry, he doesn’t,” Sam chirped. “Remember last week when I told you to do that thing, Buck?”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “Shut up, Sam.”

“What thing?” you frowned.

“It’s not mine to share,” Sam shrugged. “But based on the last five minutes’ worth of interactions alone? I think it would be best to listen to me-”

“- I swear to god if you don’t stop talking!” Bucky cut him off; then he glanced at you, blue eyes wavering for a second. “Don’t listen to him.”

Sam knew that he was doing; playing devil’s advocate because a) it meant he could piss off Bucky and b) hopefully get two of his best friends to finally get together after months of pining. It had gotten to the point where him and Steve had literal bets on it. Not necessarily on if you would get together, but more on when. 

“I’m not, but you’re acting weird,” you said. “Want to share with the class?”

“No,” Bucky firmly said.

“Buck,” you warned; it was clear by your voice that you weren’t fucking around. “I don’t know what immature high school bullshit is going on right now but I don’t appreciate it.” 

“I’ll talk to you about it later, okay?” he said. 

“You’re an ass,” you replied.

Picking up your bag and coffee, you shuffled over to the other side of the meeting table where Steve was sat. He hadn’t said a word in any of this; you quite often cursed the lack of boundaries amongst the four of you, but you couldn’t fault Steve that morning. He’d kept to himself, simply watching in awe at the chaos that had just unfolded. 

You stopped in the seat beside him, glancing over at him. “If you say a word, I’ll hit you.”

“I’m not saying anything,” he held up his hands in defense.

The meeting was quick, thankfully. Even worse, it definitely could have been put in an email. You also couldn’t help but notice the British diplomats watching your coffee carefully every time you moved - that was a joke you could have made to Bucky, had he not managed to get himself into your bad books.

You’d barely been out the board room five minutes before you were practically wrestling him by the ear into a quiet corner. The meeting had been quick, thankfully. It hadn’t felt that way for Bucky, who’d been sat opposite you the entire time, barely avoiding your dagger-y gaze. If looks could kill, his vibranium arm would have had a fair few dents in it. 

“So?” you asked. “What was that all about?”

“It’s nothing,” Bucky quickly replied. “I promise-”

“- bullshit!” you cut him off. “Why are you keeping things from me, Buck?”

“I’m not.”

“You are!” you exclaimed. “Look, I don’t even want to know what you and Sam were talking about but at least have the common decency not to keep me out of a conversation that’s about me!”

“Why aren’t you mad at Sam too?!”

“Believe me, I have it out for Sam too but it’s worse when this stuff comes from you!”

Bucky thinned his eyes at you. “Why?”

“You know why.”

He sighed, shifting from one foot to another. Eyes to the ceiling for a second, he took a deep breath. 

“Sam told me last week that I should ask you out,” he said. “Said something about how everyone around us can see what we don’t, and that we’re kidding ourselves, and…”

You sniffed, trying to stay composed. It had been a long time coming, there was no denying that. Bucky had been avoiding the conversation because he wasn’t ready but you’d been avoiding it because you were terrified of the answer. Rejection from literally anyone else in the world would have been fine, but from him? There was no metaphor for that pain, or that fear. 

“And what?” you asked. “What do you think of that?”

He shrugged. “I think it’s…”

You both waited for a second, the tension in the air almost suffocating.

“...dumb.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Dumb?!”

“Yeah?” Bucky sounded unsure. “We’re best friends, and-”

“- that’s bullshit!” you snapped. “Buck, I know you can be confusing but…if there’s one thing I am certain of, it’s that we are not just best friends and you know it!”

“Do I?”

You took a step back, sniffing. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s dumb. Forget I said anything.”

“Wait, don’t be like that-”

“- it’s fine, James,” you sniffed. “I’ll see you around.”

“Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

(You weren’t good.)

“Okay, I’m glad. Call me later, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course,” you forced a smile.

(You weren’t going to call him.)

–

Five days.

That’s the longest Bucky had gone without talking to you since he’d met you and also the exact amount of time you’d been ignoring him for. He’d given in calling you after three days, and considered coming around your apartment after four, but then he got a last minute call onto a mission where your name was at the top of the call sheet. Fab. 

Bucky liked to consider himself a good flier, but it certainly would have been easier to co-pilot a jet with someone who was actually willing to talk to him. It was quite amazing, actually, to see the lengths that you were willing to go to all in pursuit of icing him out. 

“This is Barnes to air traffic control on QJ564. We’ll be approaching our destination in about five minutes, currently at 10,000 feet, over.”

“This is ATC to QJ564, you’re cleared for landing in Munich, runway four. Over.”

“This is Barnes to ATC on QJ564. Runway four confirmed, thank you. Could you also tell my co-pilot that I’m sorry and that I miss them? Over.”

“Uh…this is ATC to QJ564. Barnes says he’s sorry and that he misses you. Over.”

“This is Barnes’ co-pilot on QJ564, tell him that I think he’s a cun-”

“- this is Captain Rogers monitoring the channels for suspicious activity from the headquarters. May I remind the pilots aboard QJ564 of the appropriate workplace manners over professional channels? Over.”

After Steve’s voice, the lines went silent. Bucky glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. 

“That was rude.”

You continued to ignore him, attention turned to landing the jet safety. It wasn’t hard - Tony Stark had built a jet that practically landed itself, but it was still a good enough excuse to blank out your best friend for the next five minutes. Still, none of that conversation was worth the absolute castigating you were about to receive from Captain America as soon as you were back in New York. He was no fun sometimes. 

With the jet safely on the runway, you parked up at the airport and made your way down to the tarmac where the agents were waiting. All you had to do now was await instructions from headquarters on what to do next. That gave you more empty time with Bucky, who was stood next to you. So, you moved away and leant against the wheels of the plane, pulling out your phone to play Doodle Jump.

The call came through eventually, but it was to Bucky’s radio instead of yours. 

“Right, agents,” he began, though it was more a sigh than anything. “Coulson is currently ten minutes out on another quinjet to lead the mission. Agent (Name) and I have been removed from this operation for the foreseeable future so that we can sit in the jet, man the communications systems and re-take the online seminar about appropriate workplace language.”

“What?!” you exclaimed. “Nice one, Barnes!”

Bucky forced a smile, trying not to crack up in front of the fifteen junior agents stood in front of you. “Why we have to retake it is a mystery to me.”

“Good luck out there, guys,” you huffed. With that, you spun around and stormed back on board the jet. 

Bucky was hot on your heels, closing up the door behind him as he went. He didn’t really know what to say - somehow he’d made you angrier, now - but apolgoising profusely felt like a pretty good place to start. 

“So you’re talking to me now?” he asked, following you through the fuselage. 

“No!”

“You just did!”

“Fuck off, Bucky!”

“And again!”

“Leave me alone!”

He grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Sorry doesn’t even begin to cut it,” you huffed.

Taking a seat, you curled your legs up in front of you. You didn’t try and swat (or hit) Bucky when he leant down in front of you, which he took as a good sign. It was time to pull out the big guns. 

“Can I talk for just…maybe five seconds, possibly ten, without you interrupting?”

You nodded.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never want to hurt you because you’re the last person in the world I’d ever want to upset but I was put on the spot by what Sam said, and then by what you said, and it freaked me out a little,” he began. “You and I both know that he’s right - but never tell him I said that - and honestly, the silence you’ve given me over the last five days made me realise that more than ever.”

You smiled. “What are you saying, Buck?”

“I love you,” he said. It was plain and simple, completely without hesitation and entirely with conviction. “I’ve known that for a while but I just didn’t want to admit it to myself, but like I said…five days without you made me realise I don’t even want to go five seconds without you.”

“That’s how you apologise,” you gave him a watery grin, poking him in the chest. 

“So?”

“So what?”

“Anything you want to say to that?”

“Oh, yeah!” you exclaimed. “I love you too.”

Bucky pulled you into a kiss; he held you flush against him, one hand holding the back of your neck, metal one gripping the back of your tac-vest. Despite everything, he was warm and you were certain then that you were never going to let him - if not a little ecstatic that you’d found a new way to shut him up. 

You both jumped back when you heard the doors to the jet go, only to turn around and see Phil Coulson on the phone, a glare on his face.

“What is it with you two and inappropriate work place behaviour?”

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” ||[10/…]

— OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"You're the one, You're all I ever wanted. I think I'll regret this."

— Mitski, "Your Best American Girl"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (live action) x F!Reader

Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.

The past echoes behind you, as does the uncertain future that lies ahead. Where you go from this point on, you'll have to be quick about making your decision. There is unrest in the waters, and not everyone knows how to swim.

Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, mentions of violence and blood, Buggy being a simp, flashbacks

A/N: .... Half a year later, and an update. As I've mentioned several times already, I'm sorry for the delay. A lot of things have happened these past couple of months, work has been hella hectic, and I'm moving into a house next month. This chapter is not too long, but I hope it'll do until the finale. If you notice any grammar mistakes, no you didn't.

It's tough to have so much love in your heart but nowhere to put it. It festers in your body, churning until it sours and rots into something unspeakably ugly.

You try not to remember, but sometimes your mind possesses a will of its own; sadistic in nature, taunting you with images of events you wish would leave you be. 

You recall that day. You see images of it flash through the synapses in your brain on more than a few occasions; twisting and knotting until they form an enlarged image of what you have dubbed the day you were acquainted with true pain.

It was a rainy day, not even a month after Rogers departed from the world of the living. The winds were picking up, the ship was rocking like she intended to knock you off balance and leave you at the mercy of the waves. 

Even still, you refused to let go.

The tension between Shanks and Buggy was palpable through your fingertips for a while by then, the reasons behind which were entirely unknown to you. The way they looked at each other was vehemently acrimonious, yet you had no clue as to what had detonated this rift. 

Maybe you didn’t want to think about it?

Maybe you were so desperately naive as to believe that things would stay the same, even when it was plain to see that they wouldn’t.

Buggy and Shanks had always been … at odds with one another, but never in a way that struck you strange before. They were simply like that, for as long as you’d known them. Their rivalry was benevolent in nature, just boys being boys, pirates being pirates.

Not that day.

You had been talking to Shanks on deck, moments before it happened. The subject of your conversation has long since evaded your memory, but that’s all you did. Conversing.

Then, Buggy was there, only that he wasn’t there either. There was something different about the bright blue eyes you used to hold in such high regard. They were cold, inexplicably hostile. 

Foul.

There was rage in his irises, and that had been beyond the kind you were acquainted with. It was scorching, tenfold sharper than the kind you received from your foes. 

Only that he wasn’t one of your foes.

It was Buggy.

Your Buggy.

And you were on the receiving end.

“You’re going with him, aren’t you?!” He demanded in such a way that you felt like it wasn’t him at all. An impostor.

Whether it was the surprise or the shock that ensnared you, you didn’t answer at first.

“ANSWER ME, DAMNIT!”

“Buggy…” your voice was hushed, scarcely making your vocal cords vibrate with each syllable. “What are you—?”

“I saw it, so don’t bother denying it!” 

He stomped over to you, and it felt like the planks beneath his feet were about to break. “Just tell me! Tell me that’s what you’re going to do! Just get it over with!”

You tried to reach for him, intertwine his fingers with your own; a safety line amidst a storm. He never rejected the gesture before, but when your digits fell upon his soft skin, he yanked them off like your touch was molten lava.

His limbs were quivering, hands knotted to fists, burning with heat yet trembling with cold at the same time.

Then, he said three words. 

Three words that would come to haunt you for the next two decades to come.

“I hate you,” he snarled. “I wish we’d never even met. Be with him if that’s what you fucking want! What do I care?”

“Buggy—“

For a moment, you didn’t know how to breathe. 

How to blink. 

How to feel. 

You had been stabbed before. Burnt. Slapped. Stabbed. Whipped. Tortured. 

Long before Rogers brought you with him, you thought yourself well-acquainted with all the pain the world could provide. It marred your bones, painted your flesh, scarred your skin. The indents still stained your arms and legs, your face, yet nothing could compare to the agony that followed Buggy’s words.

Your heart felt hollow; submerged in neck-deep waters with no bottom in sight.

“Buggy,” the corners of your eyes were stinging, yet you could not recall if you were crying or not. The feeling was a foreign one, so much so that you had no way of recognizing the sensation. 

He left after that; turned his back and walked away, and it was the last time you ever saw him in the flesh.

The next couple of years following that incident were blurry, you can’t remember much of it. It was as though your brain decided to dismiss those memories in an act of self-preservation.

You remember staying with Shanks for a time, whether loyalty or self-preservation, it didn’t matter. You stayed until just the mere sight of him rendered your guts to stones. 

You had no reason to resent him. He was good, among the best, but he could not provide a cure for your affliction, so you decided to leave the Red-Haired Pirates.

Shanks never begrudged you.

After parting ways with him, it didn’t take you long enough to establish a crew of your own, and a name. “Cross-Hairs”, the moniker you replaced with your real one. It’s been so long since anyone acknowledged your actual one, it’s as if it never existed. 

Some people saw a strong woman with enough broken bones on her record to know she would ensure their survival just as much as she could guarantee their demise, yet they still placed their bets on it.

Thus, the Cross-Haired Pirates came to fruition. Escaped convicts, thieves, general rogues, but efficient people in their own rights.

They feared you as much as they respected you. Your crew was among the most loyal people you’ve ever met. 

If you told them to bark, they’d bite. 

If you commanded them to kill, they’d do so without question, but they’d still leave their lives in your hands. They were your pack of loyal hounds, but you were a wolf in their ranks. Your say was the last of theirs.

You don’t regret letting them go. You had nothing more to offer them after you’d found a reason to stay in Foosha Village. Whatever violence remained in the world; they could find it in your absence. 

Some of them chose to disagree with your decision, demand that you remain their Captain; their checks would never run empty, but they were silenced quickly enough with the swing of your blade.

You’re not proud of the person you were, yet you could credit your survival to her. 

Blood, bones, tears, and pain, it never mattered to you, yet it granted you a superior seat on the food chain.

You became the beast haunting everyone’s dreams. The shadow in their path.

Even so, the pain of other people could not relinquish your own. 

You burned every day and every second for twenty years, so you turned the world to ashes in kind.

———

Long ago, Cabaji found his captain on deck one night with a bottle nursed against his sternum, his back against the railing, and his knee propped up to rest his head on. He was drunk, and although it wasn’t an unusual occurrence on its own, it was still unnerving.

“Captain, you alright?”

“‘m fine,” Buggy answered tightly, lolling his head back and forth. It was dark outside, no moon, yet the first mate could spot the redness across the Captain’s cheeks. “What t- time is it?”

“Just past midnight.” Cabaji frowned at the pathetic display, and with some hesitance, crouched down so he could put a finger on the clown’s forehead. Holy shit, what a fever. “Captain… You’re burning.”

“Burning?!” Buggy wheezed, as if he’d been told the world’s funniest joke. He threw his arm out, bottle raised high, and repeated: “Burning? Oh, that’s just great! I never took you for a jester, Cabaji! That title’s usually reserved for yours flashy truly! You tryin’ to upstage your captain or something?”

“No, Captain.” His right-hand man lightly put his fingers on the clown’s forehead again, mindful of not letting them linger lest he wanted to lose them. “You’re seriously burning up. How long have you been out here?”

“Five minutes, an hour, fuck, twenty years perhaps!” Buggy took another sip of the half-empty bottle in his hold. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it did wonders for his mind. His troubled, asymmetrical library of a brain whose caretaker had long since abandoned their charge.

The jester leaned the back of his head against the hard surface of the railings, tipping the bottle carelessly to the side so that its content could spill onto the wooden floor without any concern. It stained his pants; he'd reek for days, but there was no urgency in ridding himself of the splotch. “How can I burn when there is no sun out, Cabaji? Answer me that.”

“I don’t understand… it’s the middle of the night, the sun will be back tomorrow.”

“MEH! WRONG!” He continued to laugh with no sense of humor. No joy. No nothing. Just hollow breaths meant to mimic his trademark sound. With no short amount of effort on his part, he almost tripped himself trying to get up to his feet. 

His next words almost struck the first mate as … hollow somehow.

“The sun stopped shining long ago.”

———

You can’t sleep, but it has nothing to do with the added weight on your abdomen. 

Buggy, even with his entity body stripped from him, feels heavy and sleeps soundly, and he snores. You can't help but marvel at the view, mindful of your movements as you do. 

He looks to be at peace, completely so. Content. You'd think that he'd be a bit more wary considering he's currently stuck on a ship with people who want nothing more than to throw him overboard, yet here he is.

He's here.

With gentle hands unbeknownst to you, you carefully pry him off of you and settle him back down once your body’s out of the hammock. 

He can rest, you think, and he does so like a newborn.

Even with your body no longer attached to him, you can’t help but marvel at the sight. His eyes are closed, breathing even, as though he’s completely at ease with the world. Light as a feather, you tug a strand of hair away from his eyes and resign yourself to a night of wandering to ease your nerves.

The air on deck is cold. You find Ussop leaned across the steering wheel, sound asleep. You have half a mind to scold him for his negligence, but the other half remind you that in essence, he’s still just a kid. He should rest as well.

So, you find a blanket and carefully pull it over him, hoping that the cold won’t catch him as easily as Arlong’s men probably will at one point.

The waters are calm as you lean over the railings to observe them. The moon isn’t full, but it still dons a soft light across the waters. You relish in the ambience the night sky grants, finding serenity in it all. 

“What’re you doing up?”

You snap your head down to find Buggy’s head poised next to your arms, having hopped over to you on the railing. He must’ve been uncharacteristically quiet, or maybe you had been uncharacteristically caught off-guard. 

He looks tired, but not disoriented as he props himself closer to you. If he’s moody from the lack of sleep, he doesn’t voice it.

“You’ll fall off,” you warn him.

“You can still swim, can’t you?” He points out. 

“What makes you think I’ll jump after you?”

“Won’t you?”

You glance back down at him, and you can vaguely spot an ounce of sincerity in his eyes; a genuine question that conceals the deep-rooted vulnerability underneath. It’s a rare look on him, or maybe it’s the hole of light in the sky playing tricks on your brain.

The two of you say nothing to each other for a while, but your eyes never shy away from each other. To be honest, you have no idea where this … this is headed. You’re not sure what to do about it either. Twenty years has left a gaping hole in your chest, akin to a supernova that swallows everything around it.

Turns out it will still consume any scraps of your youthful affection too, and you can’t tell if it fills the hole up or further deepens the void. You’re not sure you want to know.

“You should head back inside,” you finally say. “It’s cold outside.”

“So what?”

“Being a head surely leaves you at a disadvantage against the elements, does it not?”

If he had shoulders, he’d shrug, but he makes a pretty good imitation of it with just his head alone. “Dunno, but I don’t care.”

“You don’t want to catch pneumonia and die or something, do you?” I

t wasn’t meant as a joke at first, but the moment he hears it, a snnnrrrrrk develops into full-blown laughter that’s a hair width away from waking your crew members.

You don’t know what possesses you, but hearing him laugh like this, so genuinely, conjures a laugh of your own. It’s more hushed and subtle in comparison to your companion, but it’s there and it feels so strange to have it erupt from your chest. 

When was the last time you laughed? 

After a while, your combined laughter gradually quietens and when you look at Buggy next, you see him with eyes the size of plates, like he couldn’t believe what he just witnessed. Not in an alarming way, but in … adoration. Just unadulterated, complete awe.

For some reason, it pains you to have him look at you like this. After all this time. So, you turn your head back to the sea and let your gaze linger there again. You’re reminded that, like the waves, you can’t go back to how it used to be.

“When you’ve retrieved your body, you can go.”

Buggy freezes. "... What?"

"Once you get your body back, you can leave. I'll tell the crew you disappeared." 

It'll be easier for the both of you, you justify. He can get back to being Captain Buggy, and you can go back to being ... someone. 

You're no longer a captain, and you have no interest in playing the part again. He'll have his freedom, and you'll have your contentment in knowing that you have once more gotten to look him in the eyes.

It’ll hurt, but pain is an old friend.

He doesn't say anything for the longest time, but you can hear the cogs churning in his brain. "You mean ... You don't want to go with me, after all this time?"

You glance over your shoulder to the door to the kitchen area. "I ... Care much for the boy, and I know you tend to carry grudges. I don't intend to be involved with that."

"You don't have to be!" Buggy insists, almost urgently, like he's afraid you'll leave on the dot. "You can stay with me, and whatever business I have with the rubbery pri-... I- I mean, the kid, I'll keep it to myself."

You spend a second looking down at him, scrutinizing him of any signs that he's being false, before you avert your gaze back to the waves. Truth be told, you've never thought much of what to do once you left Luffy's crew. 

As far as you're concerned, you don't have anywhere to go back to. Maybe you'll return to Foosha village, pay Makino a visit, or maybe you'll become a wayward at sea. Make coin where you can, visit Shanks sometime?

But joining Buggy?

Now that's a thought you never believed would cross your head for a long time.

"I won't be a good circus performer," you admit.

He makes a pfsssssh sound, tongue waggling out of his mouth. "'Course you'd be! The strongest woman in all of East-Blue! People will bankrupt themselves just to see you in action! C'mon, just think about it!"

You bury the urge to remind him that if anyone will commit any bankrupting, it'll be him. Joining Buggy's crew, after so long? A part of you thinks that it can open a window of opportunity to provide closure. Grant him a chance to make up for his misdeeds.

Another part reminds you that the pain he once brought caused you two decades of misery, so why give him the opportunity to attempt the same once more? In all your life, only he’s ever possessed the power to render you so small. 

You might be among the strongest pirates across the seas, but someone always held you by a leash; dragged you, pulled you into every direction, and demanded your obedience. Rogers freed you from the leash altogether, but Buggy remains the only person you freely gave your leash to. You gave it to him, and he let it go.

Are you willing to hand it back to him, knowing what happened last time?

How does the saying go? 

Bite you once and twice, shame and all that.

"We should head back inside."

———

Coco Village, you think, is a lonely place; void of life; desolate. It reminds you of where you originally came from before Rogers brought you onto his crew all those years ago. A hollow replica of how it used to be.

A feeling of cold stretches across your skin at the memory of it all, like a layer of frost having come back to torment you. 

You glance around at the halfway-demolished huts, and you see its denizens with nothing behind their eyes. Whatever hope once resided in their hearts abandoned them long ago. It brings you no joy, but it doesn’t necessarily bring you any melancholy either.

It is not your sorrow to bear.

Nojiko’s cabin, on the other hand, seems like a pleasant reprieve. It’s not much, but judging by the delicate way she handles herself and her equipment, it’s a home.

A home hanging on a thread from Arlong’s pointy nose.

While Sanji’s helping Nojiko clean the plates, you’re seated across from Usopp, with Buggy’s head poised between you on top of the table. Wherever Luffy and Zoro are outside, you’re certain they’re concocting some sort of plan to get Nami out. 

It’ll be the first time he’ll have to make up a thorough plan, rather than making it up as he goes as he’s done so far.

You’re curious as to how it’ll go, though you’ll follow nonetheless. Your presence here with them depends on whether he’ll make it, and if he does, you’ll finally part ways.

You love Luffy, almost more than you’ve loved anyone else in your entire life. You were there to watch him grow, you were there to patch him up, to make sure he had food when Makino couldn’t afford to spare any. 

You love his hair, his eyes, the way his smile all but brightens up any dark corner in any room. You love him so much so that you’ll leave the moment you know he doesn’t need you anymore.

The thought, while maintaining a rooted spot in your brain, lessens your appetite and causes you to play with the food on your plate. It’s long since grown cold in your negligence.

Suddenly, a loud "BOOM!!" promptly snaps you out of your mindscape and back to reality. Buggy cackles, and although you're not the intended target of his joke, it still irks you to some limited extent.

"Can you just be quiet?"

"Aw, come on. Where's the fun in that?" There's a malicious glint in the clown's eye. "Do you really think your little toys can get through the skin of a fish-man?"

You have to commend Usopp for his resilience. "These are smoke bombs."

"Smoke. That's rich..." Trailing off, Buggy eyes your meal with the subtlety of a puppy looking for scraps, licking his chapped lips. "Makes me think of how long it's been since I've had any smoked fish." 

You spare him a wayward glance, fork ceasing its massacre of the flesh on your plate. Usopp notices the change almost instantaneously as he tinkers with his makeshift bomb.

The reply from the slingshot is quick. “Don’t give it to him.”

“As opposed to what?” You quirk an unbothered eyebrow. “Let Sanji’s meal go to waste?”

“Eat it yourself, then! You’ve hardly had any!”

“I’m not particularly hungry at the moment, and it’s either the trash or the clown.”

Usopp scoffs. “Like there’s a difference.”

“HEY! I’M RIGHT HERE, ASSHAT!”

Sanji perks up at the commotion and looks at you from over his shoulder, hands still wet from the washing. “I do hope you’re not discussing the possibility of discarding my food. Not when Nojiko has been so lenient as to lend us the necessary ingredients?”

Usopp shakes his head. “It’s worse! She wants to give it to the fucking clown!”

Sanji glances at you, and he speaks in that soft tone he primarily reserves for the women in his company. “Was my meal not to your satisfaction, Madam?” 

You incline your head to him in a way that’s meant to convey approval. “It was, make no mistake of it, but I’m afraid that my appetite is rather lacking at the moment.”

Buggy looks between the two of you, and his mood sours considerably. It’s as though a fire is burning in the back of the room, and the scorch threatens to incinerate the furniture and all the people inside. He halfway hopes it will, but although his Devil Fruit has granted him a plethora of powers people can only hope to dream of, prokinetics are evidently out of his reach.

No one notices, however.

Then, a minute goes by, and Sanji finally shrugs. “As much as I can’t condone Usopp’s anger, I can’t condone a good meal being wasted. Do with it as you please, my lady.”

Buggy guffaws while Usopp pales, but your face stays the way it’s always done. If anyone were to notice the way you discreetly inch the plate towards Buggy, they keep their opinions to themselves. 

If Buggy stares at you like you hung the moon and the sun in the sky, you keep your observations to yourself.

You don’t say a word, but you want to say a lot. 

You wish to say more than you've ever said before.

But you don’t.

———

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat , @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore, @knightsfavoriteprincess, @asterizee, @aamethyst23, @lizzie1107, @cyberwears, @heylookliisten, @f41k47, @beep-beep1, @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts, @rayleeya, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @fanshavegottensotoxic, @fluffybunnyu, @sirenmelody23, @neenieweenie, @kassandrasowl, @matthewjstarling, @fisshil

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[stealingyourbones]

Tim Drake and Jason Todd are both halfas. They just don't know it for a while.

HI BONES I JUST WOKE UP FROM THIS DREAM AND HAD TO SHARE.

There's something recogonized between them, when Robin meets Red Hood in Titan's Tower. But it's a mystery to both of them what - especially Jason. There's no reason for the new Robin to reek of the Dead - not like him. 

The truth comes out a few years later, in hushed whispers of a desperate Tim Drake - something is happening that reminds him of something terrible: after the first week of truly being in the Robin suit, he has a gap in his memory of weeks. Okay a couple months, accurately.

He's hidden this well - the gap is after he'd taken a fairly serious injury, something that nevertheless had a relatively low recovery time. So Batman and Nightwing never noticed that it caused him to, technically, die. And like hell Tim would tell them that, especially then.

The thing is that few missing months.

Tim has put together what happened in those months; he'd always kept copious notes for himself. And Bruce and Dick shouldn't be bothered if he has a bit of amnesia.

After he "died" he was Robin - notes on his computer tell him what he did, notes in the Batcomputer fill him in on the cases. But the notes never refer to himself as Tim. And the tone and methods for what he did - well, they're like Tim's. Tim can follow all the logic in them. They just seem... off somehow. 

But there's no memory left to him, between that moment when his heart stopped in the Robin suit to a moment, months later, of waking up in the Medbay after Dick rescued him from the Drake household - targeted by a magic user with questionable morals who claims he was dead and wrong. 

So he was checked out by Constantine or Zatanna or someone and they confirmed that no, that's not the case and that's definitely Tim in the body.

Once they get there.

The thing is, the more Tim looked into it, the less he thinks that rogue magician was actually mistaken. He's a little faster now, a little stronger. Sometimes it's like he's invisible, or hanging just a little too long in the air on the grapple - but in the next moment, that's gone, and he's just Tim again. Human Tim.

So a couple years later when Jason shows up, and there's that Recognition - Dead to Dead - that he gets from no one else... the memories start filtering in. Now Tim has the memories of being - well - a ghost, in the Ghost Zone, desperately searching for a way back, a way home, filtering in.

Now for a couple years after that beatdown in Titan's Tower - a beatdown that should have left him truly dead, or healing for months longer - but his recovery time has always been faster since those missing months, especially in the minutes and hours right after the injuries, where they're easier to hide a bit. Now there's a threat to all the ghosts in Gotham, and Jason and Tim wind up in deep.

Hunted by the Guys in White.

And Jason is angry because maybe he's a weird undead reanimation of a corpse, but Tim sure isn't and these bastards aren't touching his little brother. And Tim is all like "So there's this thing that happened." and he's (falsely) convinced that if Jason just left him Jason would be okay and the GIW would stop hunting them.

And Jason is gobsmacked - and smacked with memories. Memories he didn't... really have before, not through the Lazarus haze. Not really. Memories of being Tim.

And then the Dates slot together in his head and oh shit oh shit oh shit.

The day Tim died and something possessed him? Was the day Jason crawled out of his grave and was found, catatonic, on the streets.

And the day Tim regained control of his body.

Was the day Jason was shoved into the Lazarus Pit.

Fuck. He hurt his baby brother more than he ever realized. Fuck.

(They eventually figure out, maybe with a bit of help after they rescue some more experienced ghosts from the assholes in white, that Tim... really would have died fully that day, had Jason's ghost not possessed his body, bringing it back to life, heart beating and lungs breathing. And he kept it breathing until Tim was called back to it. And the effort Jason put into that - breathing and beating and keeping that living spark alive - was the jump Jason's own body needed to truly wake up from his grave.)

Yeah so anyway they both say to the GIW: no you don't not MY fucking BROTHER you don't. And so do all the other Bats. 

And the GIW is fucked.

[lilydalexf]

🌲👽 X-Files Survival/Wilderness Fic Recs

Here are some very good X-Files survival or wilderness fics. Because @thatsaprettycoolposter and @pookie-mulder asked! This list does not include post-colonization fics, which are also all survival fics of a sort. Enjoy!

Alligator Moon by jordan big monster in swamp attacks FBI agents

Antidote by Rachel Howard and Karen Rasch Strange doings in a tiny western town bring Mulder and Scully out to investigate. Once there, they uncover a deadly experiment that may cost both of them their lives.

Backtracking by Kel and Scetti What do Charlie Scully, the Alien Bounty Hunter, and Jesse "the Body" Ventura all have in common? Last April you could have found all three of them in Minnesota.

By the Wind Grieved by Karen Rasch Months have passed and Mulder is back. But things are not as they once were. He doesn’t know who he is or what Scully and he are to each other. Together they must reclaim the past before their enemies take away their future.

A Cabin in the Woods by @leiascully Mulder and Scully, on the run, stay for a while in a cabin in the mountains in Montana. A series of interlacing vignettes.

a cabin in the woods by @monikafilefan Being stuck in this rustic cabin, clearly left to age among the wilderness had Scully feeling wild herself, and it felt as if their bodies danced to an ancient song among the elements.

Camping by Amperage and Livengoo Fox Mulder and Dana Scully have survived abductions, serial killers, mutants and aliens but the Partner Cooperation Program Wilderness Encounter may finally do them in. After poison ivy and catfish, who wouldn’t long for a nice, safe killer mutant?

A Change of Seasons by Jo-Ann Lassiter A search for a mythical beast in the woods of Pennsylvania takes an alarming turn for the worse when Mulder's minor in ury escalates into a life-threatening disease.

Changing Tides by QofMush Who says change is all bad?

Circumnavigation by Suzanne Schramm Sometimes you don't know where you're going until you get there.

Coming Back by Karen Rasch Mulder gets a call from Mrs. Scully, who fears for Dana's safety. Following her instructions, he tracks his partner to a cabin in the mountains where he finds that she does indeed need his help. Memories of her time away have come back with a vengeance. (Sequel: The Calm After The Storm)

Dark Water by Suzanne Schramm Prehistoric insects. Mothmen. Now it’s a publicity-shy tribe of murderers. Just another nice trip to the forest with Mulder.

Falling Snow by Snark Mulder, Scully and a mysterious woman from Mulder's past crash in the snowy landscape of the Colorado winter.

Frozen by @dashakay The end of a case, and a stay in a log cabin during a blizzard, lead Scully to take the biggest risk of her life.

Last Chance Falls by @slippinmickeys A man. A women. A forest. A hit squad. An adventure.

The Lost by Wintersong Mulder and Scully are trapped in the remote wilderness and the art of surviving was not what they expected.

Old Growth Forest by Andrea Mulder and Scully investigate the disappearances of homeless people in Madison, Wisconsin and seemingly end up suffering the same fate.

A Path of Salt by Analise Mulder ditches Scully yet again to help an old friend in the Park Service. But Scully has never been one to sit and wait.

Tam Lin by Pequod When your local young men disappear, only to turn up dead a year later, sometimes it helps to have friends in high places. Myth and murder combine in a remote Scottish village, and Mulder and Scully investigate. The Fairy Queen is out to revenge the loss of her most prized knight, Tam Lin. Mulder believes but Scully’s not so sure, until Mulder takes a walk in the woods.

Tempest by Missy Pennington Mulder and Scully survive a plane crash to find themselves injured and stranded in the Appalachian wilderness. (Sequels: Distance, Wild Places, and Escape Me Never)

Untitled by @o6666666 Prompt: Mulder takes Scully camping and they make love for the second time ever under the stars.

Waiting in Motion by mountainphile After leaving the hot spring (in "Miraculous Manifestation"), Scully and Mulder take an unexpected detour on the way home. Dark secrets emerge when they seek shelter in a raging storm...and an intriguing X-file rears its head... (Sequel: Signs of Life)

Way Through the Woods by Pellinor and Rebecca Rusnak Three months ago, someone noticed something unusual about Scully. Now, in a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable, Mulder has disappeared, and Scully’s only chance of finding him include an unlikely ally and an untrustworthy informant. As they make their way through the woods, can Mulder and Scully find each other, or is the future lost?

[thelightsandtheroses]

One: I was just coasting until we met

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: When Joel finds you on your self-assigned insomnia bench one night, it sparks an unexpected friendship that quickly develops into more. Finding peace in the middle of an apocalypse always seemed impossible, but being with Joel feels natural, like a missing piece has fallen into place at last. When a ghost from your past threatens to destroy the peace you’ve found in Jackson, everything will change.

Word Count: 2.5k

Overarching Series Warnings - 18+ blog - minors do not interact, unexpected friendship, developing relationship, idiots in love, flangst, typical TLOU content, references to cults, references to past manipulation, references to past violence, references to PTSD, single parent reader, some secondary original characters, etc. No use of Y/N, any further warnings to be added as appropriate. No specific age for reader, but range is implied in later chapters (minimum of 30s but not specified any further than that) Notes: This idea has been going around my head for months and I’m so excited to actually do something with this and share it. Also, a special thank you to the lovely @darkroastjoel for encouraging me to write this weeks ago when I wasn’t sure of the concept. The chapter title is from I’m With You by Vance Joy. 

One: I was just coasting till we met

Series List | Next

Jackson, WY, 2024

There’s nothing but stars and night sky ahead of you. If you look behind you, you can see a few sparse lights illuminating houses in Jackson, but ahead of you there are no distractions, just the trees and the sky and vastness of the world around you.

The air is cool and smells fresh; a mix of woodland, of the night. You adjust the thick woollen cardigan around your pyjama top and faded sweatpants. There’s no one around at this time of night so you haven’t made a real effort to get dressed or worry about your appearance.

You’ve come here many times before but it never fails to take you aback. The vastness, the stars, the way it makes you feel insignificant but not in a negative way. The only sounds you can hear are the insects and wind blowing through trees.

It’s peaceful, or as close to peaceful as exists these days. For a while, you could forget about the world you live in, convince yourself the last twenty years have been some sick fever dream instead.

In the two years you’ve lived in Jackson, this has become your spot. It’s where you go when you can’t sleep. It’s where you go when the past gets to you, when you either wake because of creeping nightmares and ghosts, or after hours of lying in your bed in a restless, anxious state wishing for slumber. 

You only ever come here at night. It’s as if there’s some sort of magic in place that would either ruin or remove the bench in the daytime. 

When you first came to this town, the idea of wandering around in the middle of the night seemed preposterous, downright reckless after living in Kansas QZ. 

However, one night you hit a breaking point.

You’d been lying in your bed, restless and unable to relax. Every time you thought you might finally drift into sleep, your heart would race and your throat would be so dry that you wondered if you were dying. You would become irrationally concerned you might just stop breathing if you did fall asleep at all. It was a pattern of insomnia that had followed you for years, from before Kansas and beyond. When you did finally sleep, you’d have nightmares, but most of your nights were shaped by restlessness.

That night, as you desperately tried not to wake anyone else up, hating them all for being able to sleep, you felt like you were going to finally break. You had to get out, just clear your head a little. 

You discovered the bench that night, perfectly positioned to watch the sunrise, to take in the world around you without distraction or worries.

It’s a special spot; serene and soothing. It’s your sanctuary.

 Sometimes you don’t need to come here, your record is a week and half away - an achievement you only reached a few days ago, but inevitably, and usually at least twice a week, you’ll end up back on your bench waiting for the sun to meet you and wash away your ghosts. 

There’s the crunching sound of boots on gravel behind you and you turn around cautiously, one hand clinging to the edge of the bench. You’ve been complacent, you chastise yourself, you don’t even have a weapon with you.

Joel Miller stands before you; a battered brown coat buttoned up to his neck, torch in one hand, with the other jammed into a jacket pocket, and a bemused expression on his face when he sees you sitting there.

You’ve heard enough of him from the other locals since his arrival; he’s Tommy’s older brother, Maria isn’t sure of him, he settled here with a teenage ward a couple of months ago. Some of the other locals have said Ellie, the girl, is almost feral. Your impression of her from fleeting visits to the library is that she’s curious, she’s haunted, not used to a community like Jackson (and these days, who would be?) and perhaps the most honest person you’ve met in years. 

”May I?” he asks, indicating the empty space on the bench next to you. You almost want to laugh at the Southern lilt to his voice, the polite manners he’s showing you. 

‘May I?’ is not a phrase that belongs in this world anymore. People take, some people give, but most take. When the world ends, manners fade. When the world ends, you ask for forgiveness and not permission. 

It’s why your instinct is to say no, to say ‘Actually fuck you, Tommy’s brother, and go find another insomnia bench, this one is mine!’

You don’t do that though. Jackson brings back those manners, or it’s trying to at least. And even if you think it belongs to you, technically it’s not your bench because this is a stupid commune. 

So you grimace and nod, frustrated about the interruption as Joel Miller sits next to you. 

It’s the first time you’ve had a chance to look at Tommy’s brother this closely.  While you can see the familial similarities, Joel’s different. His greying dark hair is far shorter, almost messy at the moment like he’s just woken up and walked here. It’s almost endearing.

There’s a scar on the right side of his temple, the one closest to you, and you try and take in every detail of him, to analyse and evaluate just who this person next to you could be. 

You expect to feel uncomfortable at his presence, to feel on edge and ready to flee or pounce, but you don’t.  

“It’s uh, a good view from here,” Joel says after a moment. 

You nod noncommittally and clasp your hands together on your lap. 

“I’ve seen you around Jackson. I’m Joel,” he continues. His voice is surprisingly soft, gentle as though he wants to put you at ease. It shows a level of consideration you didn’t expect, one that makes you more honest in your reply.

“It’s a small town, I know who you are, Joel Miller.” 

“Oh really?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow and for a second something else flashes across his face. “What have you been told about me then?”

“You’re new, you’re Tommy’s brother. I think that’s about it. Heard you and Tommy are good on patrol.” 

“Oh yeah?” Unlike most of the men in Jackson, he doesn’t seem to puff with pride at that compliment. He looks at his hands, wringing them together then before asking, “So, that’s me. What about you then? What’s your name?”

You introduce yourself, taking in the way he repeats your name - how it sounds on his lips.

“I haven’t seen you around town much before,” he says after a moment.

“Would you have even noticed?”

“Someone like you? Most definitely.” You look at the ground in surprise, certain that you’re misinterpreting his words. 

He’s just being polite.

It’s just the insomnia. 

“It is a good view. You’re right,” you say quietly, keen to shift the conversation away from yourself and back to this moment. “It’s a really great spot for the sunrise.”

“I know,” he says calmly.

You pause. Has Joel Miller been using your bench when you haven’t? Is your bench essentially cheating on you?  You’ve always believed this was your secret, your place, but perhaps it’s a timeshare instead.

For some reason, the thought of that upsets you more than you expect.  You try and shake it off though, to be polite and good and everything someone who lives in Jackson is expected to be.

Perhaps you can share the bench … today. Just for today.

“How are you liking Jackson so far then?” you ask.

Joel scoffs quietly to himself and you look over with raised eyebrows. 

“Been asked that a few times already, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“Why am I not surprised? Well, we don’t get that many new arrivals and you’re Tommy’s brother. People were bound to talk. They’ll settle down when something else comes along.”

“‘S been weeks now. Besides, I thought you just said you don’t get many newcomers, how long exactly is this going to last?” he asks, leaning forward for a moment, his arms crossed on his knees and head down.

You smile to yourself, wondering if you should admit how long it took for people to stop asking your group how you were liking Jackson, how long it has really taken to be seen as a resident and not a new arrival. 

“Well, there’s a new litter of puppies due soon, and I heard a rumour that there’s going to be another dance again in the next few weeks. Your arrival will become old news before you know it,” you say with false sincerity.

He chuckles to himself. “This really is like a small town, huh? That uh, -“

“Nosiness? Lack of privacy? Gossip mill?”

“All of the above. So, you think puppies will help?”

“Everyone loves puppies, Joel Miller. Probably even you do.”

He smirks. “Really, do I look like that to you?” There’s a teasing tone to his voice, mischief in what you can make out of his eyes in the dim light. 

“Sure you do.”

“So we’ve just got to wait for a bunch of puppies or some town dance for me an’ Ellie to be old news? Okay, here’s hoping.”

A silence falls between you but unlike before, it feels companionable, calming even. 

“So, you said ‘I know’ when I said it was a good spot for the sunrise. Does that mean you’ve been out here before then?” you ask as your curiosity finally wins out. 

Joel looks over at you with a smirk, “Why, is that really bothering you, huh? A couple of times, sure.” He shifts his weight slightly, places an arm on the bench and turns himself so he’s facing you.

“I just haven’t seen you out here before, that’s all.”

“You come out here at this hour a lot?” Joel raises an eyebrow that you can’t tell whether conveys being impressed or incredulous.

“Sometimes,” you say lightly. Most times.

“How long have you been out here then?” Joel asks.

“On this bench? About an hour. In Jackson? Two years, give or take.”

 “An’ how are you likin’ Jackson so far?” he asks, a mischievous spark in his eyes that even in the dim light takes years off him, makes him look lighter. 

You laugh before you can stop yourself. 

“Touché, Joel.”

“Couldn’t resist.”

“Do you know what? Honestly, I didn’t believe it at first,” you say after a moment. “Places like this - they don’t work, okay? Someone always wants to be in control, power abhors a vacuum and then power corrupts, right? We were watching that play out before cordyceps, and if I’ve learned anything these last twenty years …  so when we got here, I didn’t want to stick around too long. I guess that I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop? Only now, now I’m still here and I guess this place, maybe it just works. It shouldn’t, but it does.”

You’re not sure what makes the truth spill out of you like that. Perhaps it’s because it’s the middle of the night, or it’s the power of the bench, or more likely, it’s because you know Joel is probably out here for a similar reason to you. 

You can see it in his eyes, in the way he’s sitting. 

“That’s what my - my - I’ve heard that before.  That this place actually works,” Joel says. “I know what you mean though. You see enough of all that in the QZs. Is that where you were before here?”

“Before Jackson, I was in Kansas for a while.” 

“Oh.” 

“Huh, I take it you’ve heard the stories then?” 

Kansas had a reputation amongst all the remaining QZs. FEDRA had been brutal there; ruled the city with an iron fist and realised every nightmare of a brutal regime.

 It was no surprise the fireflies had been so present there at one point, the symbol of hope and rising up against tyranny. Only they had abandoned Kansas years ago and it was down to those who stayed to try and fight back. You remembered Michael, who had tried to lead a movement against FEDRA, a man who was working towards a peaceful rebellion, as if such a thing could exist.  The QZ had gone dark months ago though. It didn’t bode well and you’d heard the whispers that perhaps Kansas was no more. 

“I uh - passed through on my way here.” Joel shifts awkwardly.

“It’s gone, isn’t it?”

Joel pauses and regards you carefully before he replies.“Yeah.”

“I take it that FEDRA and Michael’s group just - it doesn’t matter actually.” They’re all dead anyway, you think, the facts won’t change that.  

Flashes of years pass you. 

Violence. So much violence. Then those moments between, the ones that managed to burrow and bury themselves beneath your skin.

Your ex-boyfriend and you kissing in the kitchen of your crappy apartment  …

Your birthday - singing to that cheesy rock song in the living room and dancing to an old song with Sean and his sister.

Marking Gabriel’s height each birthday on the kitchen wall because it felt like a normal thing to do, a new line each year, each growth spurt measured.

Your ex-boyfriend and you arguing over the system, over the possibilities for Kansas. You wonder how long he lasted after you left Kansas - if he was there for its end.

Separations … losses …  too many deaths … pockets of hope and continued disappointments.

You okay?” Joel asks, a reluctant expression on his face.

“I’m fine. Left there for a reason.”

“Right.”

“It’s fine.”

Kansas had never really been home. You can’t make a home in a place you’re constantly on alert in, where you subsist on fear and anxiety. You could exist there though and at least in Kansas it was clear who was running the show, clear who was in charge. 

Jackson is the closest to a home you’ve found in more than twenty years, and even here you feel halfway out of the door. 

Joel’s still looking at you though, his brow furrowed like you’re a map he can’t read, an unfathomable equation.

You shrug and resume staring ahead at the forest ahead, at letting every sound, smell and sound around you just soak in, to create an illusion of peace.

After a while you steal a glance at Joel. He’s still on the other side of the bench; the hand on the arm leaning on the bench now pinching the space behind his brows, his eyes momentarily shut.

You’re not sure exactly how much time passes like this but soon the darkness fades and dawn rises to greet you with the promise of a new day.

You stand up, brushing imaginary dirt off your clothes and meet Joel’s gaze. “See you around, Joel Miller.”

“See you,” he replies lightly.

As you walk down the hill, you turn around and notice Joel’s still sitting there, focused on the horizon ahead.

This isn’t going to be the only time you find Joel on your bench, you realise. Suddenly, your lonely but peaceful sanctuary has an addition. You know the two of you will find yourselves on this bench again in the middle of the night.

If you hadn’t spoken to Joel, the loss of that solitude would be devastating, but it’s not. 

 So, you think to yourself, it turns out you’re not the only insomniac wanderer in Jackson.

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[iwillnotdieamonster]

"This is a beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date. I am impressed at the way she was instantly able to make the decision to choose love over her career. Indeed, the world needs more of this.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona"

Credit goes to the respective owners.

[wrathofrats]

Mushy May Day 2- reminiscing (I changed it oops)

I’m just rewriting thunderstorms because I loved it a lot and wanted to rewrite something a year later, just because I think I can expand upon it (:

Thanks to @forlorn-crows for putting this month together!

1.5k of mountain and dew listening to a thunderstorm.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, mountain attempts to have a serious talk with dew, vague description of a small panic attack,

“Dew, can I ask you a question”

“Yeah of course, what’s up” dew mumbled, head forward to the sky. Mountain lifted himself from his shoulder and sighed.

“Why do you act the way you do”

Dew opened his eyes slowly, just in time to see the room be lit up with lightning, closely followed by a clap of thunder that echoed through the house. He rolled over and attempted to snuggle into a body that was no longer there. A mass of pillows and sheets made up the form of the earth ghoul he had fallen asleep with, as if he didnt want to wake dew in his absence.

“Mountain?” Dew whispered in a groggy tone. It wasn’t like mountain to leave in the middle of the night when they slept together. Often he was the one to hold dew close and mumble protests when they finally had to get up, but dew couldn't remember the last time he had left him first. He attempted to pull the pillows closer to him, the smell of mountain mixed with some kind of fresh scented cheap detergent invaded his senses. All too artificial and cold, a poor excuse for another body.

The house is always eerily still at this hour. The only source of sound being the rolling clouds in the distance and the creak of old wood under dews feet. He could sneak into someone else’s room, wedge himself between aether and Swiss, or curl behind cirrus. But the curiosity of where mountain had gone at such an hour peaked dews interest too much, and the particular ache in his hips was something only quelled by his earth ghoul.

Another large lightning strike lit up the living room, and a figure sitting outside on the patio.

“Mountain?” Dew whispered again, opening the back door.

Mountain turned to greet dew with a small smile. “Hi droplet, storm wake you up?”

“Yeah I guess. You too?” Dew closed the door and walked over to stand next to him, pulling one of the chairs that didn’t seem soaked in rain over to the convenient dry spot that mountain had found on the porch.

“Just couldn’t sleep”

“ ….. we could go for round two if you want something to tir-“

“Just listen to the storm with me,” mountain interrupted. “Usually helps me sleep”

The strong wind and splashes of rain made dew pull his jacket closer to himself, shivering as he sat down. Mountain threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling the smaller ghoul close as another boom of thunder hit. Warmth radiated off of dew as he attempted to regulate his own temperature, putting off waves of heat to keep the both of them comfortable. Mountain breathed deeply, inhaling the earthy smell of thunderstorm, with hints of dewdrop, a comfort of spice and smoke. They sat like that for a minute, basking in each other's company before dew broke the silence.

“So do you just, watch?” He asked

“Yeah” mountain hummed, shoving his face into dews neck and taking a deep breath.

“What are you watching? There’s nothing happening”

Mountain smiled at him “there’s plenty happening, but sometimes it’s nice to sit and just appreciate nature even when there’s nothing going on”

“Sounds like you’re just a nerd” mountain rolled his eyes and sighed.

“You’re more than welcome to go back inside if you’re bored”

“But I wanted you to come with me” dew leaned his head onto mountains where it was still rested on his shoulder. He drew his legs up to avoid the splashes of rain on the concrete. “Besides, it’s wet out here. Wouldn’t it be better to watch from inside if you’re so insistent?”

“But that’s not the point of sitting out here”

“Then what is the point?” Dew grumbled, pouting with his arms against his chest.

Mountain breathed deep for a minute. As much as he loved dew, sometimes he wanted to spend his time peacefully. He wanted to take an opportunity to appreciate the simplicity of the storm, to breathe in the petrichor as if he would never experience it again. There’s always been something grounding about watching a storm pass, about the morality that Mother Nature reminded everyone of.

Dew reminded him of a dark cloud sometimes. Heavy and rain filled, simply looking for a release even if it ended up being destructive to those around him. Mountain lost his patience with him earlier, evident by the bruising around his wrist and the way dew couldn’t quite sit still. They sat for a couple more minutes without speaking. Purely focused on the wind and rain. More thunder rumbled in the distance. They watched as the silvery clouds flashed above the tree line.

“Dew, can I ask you a question”

“Yeah of course, what’s up” dew mumbled, head forward to the sky. Mountain lifted himself from his shoulder and sighed.

“Why do you act the way you do”

Dew was stunned. He didn’t know how to answer that question. Mountain didn’t look at him when he asked, gaze turned towards his lap as if he too didn’t know what answer he wanted, or even why he had asked the question in the first place.

“I dont- what do you mean?” He asked, looking up at the bigger ghoul. Mountain leaned his head back, staring directly into the sky.

“You’re just constantly provoking. You seem to do things specifically to get on people’s nerves, specifically to get a reaction.”

“Then don’t react. I’m just joking and you know that mo” dew rolled his eyes. He sounded teasing, like he was still trying to get the rise of annoyance out of mountain. An instinct in him to continue to push until he can’t anymore.

“See? I don’t really understand you sometimes. You seem to just always want to be bad”

“Fuck you” tears welled up in dews eyes before he could stop them or turn away. He quickly stood up and stumbled backwards as if the chair was suddenly burning his skin.

“Droplet that’s not-“

“I dont” he furiously wiped his face, embarrassed to have mountain see him cry over something that seems so trivial. Part of him has to admit that mountain is somewhat right. He can’t help it, can’t help the part of him that wants to see the reaction to his antics, the part of him that feels sickly satisfied with the grumble of annoyance or backlash when he’s successful.

Dew knew he was probably overreacting, but the sentence stung, “you just always want to be bad” he doesnt. He doesn’t know why he acts the way he does.

“I know you don’t” mountain attempted to move towards him, but dew continued to back up, putting as much space as possible between them like a frightened animal. His eyes were squeezed shut, the sight of pity on mountains face unbearable. If mountain thought he wanted to act out to be a nuisance he didn't want his pity as well. He shouldn’t feel bad for him in this context. Especially since he probably deserves it.

“You just fucking said I do. You just said I do you asshole” the tears were falling faster than he could wipe his face. He wanted to rush inside, lock himself in his room and attempt to forget the conversation that was happening. He doesn’t want to be an annoyance, to make people angry, to be bad.

“That’s not what I meant” Mountain took another step towards dew. His movements were slow, cautious, not to overwhelm the fire ghoul. He hated seeing him like this, as anyone would.

“Stop”

“You constantly act like you want to be punished. You act like you need someone to beat it out of you. You’re only good after you let someone treat you like some kind of stress relief.”

“Mountain stop, please” dew hiccuped. He put his arm in front of his face like he was trying to block out mountains words. Every fiber in him praying mountain will drop him like a sufficiently wounded animal and stop toying with him.

“You don’t deserve to be hurt Dew”

Dew froze. He dropped his sleeve from his face and stared at mountain. Thunder continued to crackled in the distance, but all he could hear was his own heartbeat and blood rushing through his eardrums. His chest felt like it was constricting hearing those words said to him. He wanted to respond, call him stupid and go to bed. But he couldn’t. It felt like there was a golf ball in his throat, preventing him from speaking. He continued to stare at mountain. Neither of them made any attempt to move.

“You deserve positive attention droplet” mountain whispered, as if the words being spoken would break dew into tiny pieces in front of him. “You deserve to be able to ask for the love you need”

He made a slow advancement towards him, giving him to to move in case he still didn’t want to be touched at the moment. But dew continued to stand there, tears still streaming down his cheeks. Mountain put his arms around the smaller ghoul and held him tightly. Dew finally broke and sobbed into mountains shoulder. Holding onto his shirt for dear life.

“I’m sorry” he managed to get out “ I don’t mean to -“

“You don’t need to be sorry” mountain cut him off. He slowly pet his hair while dew continued to bury his head into his chest. “I love you so much”

A cold breeze laced with the spray of rain washed over them. Dews skinned burned as he cried into mountains chest while little rivets of steam radiated off of him. Mountain could only feel the pleasant warmth through his layers of clothing, he wished that he could hold dew like this forever.

They stayed like that for as long as dew needed it. Holding each other while the storm continued on in the background.

[albaskies]

And if I didn't know better

Or: One evening, Ginny reflects on her choice to step up for Teddy, while trying to navigate her grief for the loss of those who never could. Also on AO3:

She isn’t quite so sure what made her decide to step up for a child when she was hardly an adult herself. Not that she’d done much at first - she’d barely ever been there during the first year of his life, and she’d only gathered the courage to rock him to sleep a few months after she’d moved back home. It was more of a feeling, as if she’d accepted the responsibility deep in her heart before she could even trust her own limbs to hold him properly. 

It feels like a lifetime away, now, as his little body is curled up against hers and his turquoise hair shines in the dim candlelight. They lay on several cushions and blankets scattered on the floor; an old white sheet stuck on four chairs hanging on top of their heads, covering the ceiling. They’ve built a fort, you know. Right after playing dragons and running around on invisible broomsticks (‘Feet on the ground, Teddy, please’). All in their living room, all after having dinner. 

Harry’s sent word that he’ll be home late - problems at the office. He sounded very disappointed to miss out on having Teddy over for the night, one of his favourite weekly activities. He usually sleeps over on Fridays, but they might have to switch it to Saturdays if Harry keeps on getting held back at work.

Ginny is seriously doubting that her strategy to try and wear Teddy out before bedtime has been effective, as Teddy’s eyes are still wide open and shimmering with energy. The cup of warm milk she’s offered him hasn’t quite done the trick, now left unfinished and forgotten on the floor right next to him. But then again, Teddy’s undergoing that toddler phase where nothing in the world can get him to wind down unless he decides to, thank you very much. How did Hermione call him? A threenager? Where did she even hear such a ridiculous thing?

She looks down at him again, as he has started to move his tiny hands and notice the corresponding shadow movements reflected on the sheet. His expression is full of wonder, not a care in the world, and she’s so grateful for the look in his eyes (and, yes, for the rare moment of quiet as well) that she feels her heart could explode.

‘Look, Teddy,’ she says, joining her thumbs and wiggling the rest of her fingers. ‘Isn’t that an eagle? Oh my, how did it get here?’.

Teddy squeals with laughter, unable to contain his excitement - the sweetest sound in the world.

‘Again, Ginny, again!’.

She regrets it, to have hesitated back then. It’s not that she didn’t care for him when he was a baby - quite the contrary, actually. She’d known she loved him so much since before he was even born; that one Christmas morning when Tonks had grabbed her hand and had gently placed her on her pregnant tummy.  But she was scared, terrified of messing it all up, of not being good enough. She still is sometimes - she’s just learned to cope with it better, or maybe to hide it better. She reckons that nobody really knows how to deal with a child from the beginning, especially when it’s not their own; and they are all a bit broken now anyway. But it doesn’t really matter, does it, as long as they’re there for each other, as long as Friday nights are still about dragons, invisible broomsticks and animal shadows on a fort sheet ceiling.

.

Harry had dived into the role with all his seriousness and solemnity because, well, what else do you expect. He’d tried so hard to get Teddy to like him from the start, as if there could ever be the risk that he wouldn’t. He’d show up to Andromeda’s house bearing so many gifts that she’d had to beg him to stop once and for all, for the love of Merlin. 

‘I just want to do something nice for him, you know,’ he’d told Ginny later, his brows furrowed and his glare focused on his tea mug.

‘But you already do,’ she’d said, her hand gently squeezing his thigh. ‘You’re there for him. That’s as nice as it gets.’

She could tell she hadn’t fully convinced him, just as she knew that he hadn’t been exactly truthful either. He wanted to do something nice for Teddy, sure, stepping in those daunting godfather shoes as smoothly as possible. But he wanted to do something nice for himself too, for his much younger self, trying to give away all the love and attention he’d been missing all his life. And she couldn’t really blame him for that, now, could she.

‘Gin,’ he’d murmured, his whisper almost pleading. ‘I don’t think I know what I’m doing.’

She’d moved her hand from his leg to his jaw, resisting the urge to cut him off with sarcasm, ‘Have you ever, though.’

‘Nobody asks that of you right now, Harry. You’ll figure it out.’

He looks at her, still unconvinced. ‘But Tonks and Lupin -’

‘No,’ she’d shushed him, gently pressing a finger on his lips. ‘Not even them.’

That’s the thing - nobody had asked her to, either. And it’s not that she’d felt compelled to act as an unofficial godmother only because of her relationship with Harry. He’d certainly never expected that of her. 

She’d felt hurt when her mum had implied that once. As if that ring that Harry had placed on her finger dictated all of her choices, as if she had to have a reason to desire to care for Teddy. As if she hadn’t known Tonks and Lupin, too. 

No, Teddy's become part of her life because of a very careful and important choice she’s made. It has been so incredibly natural, and it has required quite some effort, both at the same time. But it’s always been there, no matter what. 

There hasn’t been a single Quidditch match she’s played without looking for him and Harry in the stands; there hasn’t been a single house she and Harry have looked at without thinking about what room could become his for when he stays over. There hasn’t been a single time she hasn’t thought of him when looking at the clear blue sky.

.

‘And what about this?’, she asks him, still twisting her hands to give life to dark shapes on the sheet.

Teddy lets out a sweet chuckle. ‘A rabbit!’.

‘Good job, Teddy!’’ 

He claps his hands in excitement and his hair seems to have become an even brighter shade of blue.

‘More, more!’

‘Let’s see. What about…’ Ginny says, continuing to move her fingers. ‘This?’

He seems to think about it for a second, squeezing his eyes, wrinkling his nose. Then he beams.

‘A wolf!’

A beat.

‘Er - no, it’s a dog -’

‘No, it’s a wolf!’

‘Teddy -’

And before she knows it, he starts howling. 

‘Wolves aren’t scary, Ginny! You shouldn’t be scared!’

She looks at him in horror. Total panic. Her mind blacked out. That’s the one thing she hasn’t brought herself to do with Teddy yet - talking about his parents. Or even mentioning them, to be frank. She’s quite selfishly left that to Harry, because what does she know about this stuff, he’s a child, she doesn’t want to mess it up for him. She’s quite sure that she would, if she tried. She can’t even think straight after he’s seen the shadow of a wolf rather than a dog, after all. What a stupid way to react to a child acting his age, playing and having fun. Stop this. Don’t be a git, please stop this.

It’s almost as if Lupin and Tonks never enter the bubble that she creates when she’s with Teddy - which is absurd, nonsensical, completely idiotic. But,  well - her insides knotting in guilt at the mere thought - it’s easier this way. She feels ashamed of herself, absolutely fucking revolted. Now that he’s inadvertently brought it up though, a three-year-old braver than she’ll ever be, and he’s opened Pandora’s box (some famous Greek witch, she reckons), she's at a loss for words. It’s so subtle that she should just let it slide - she must, actually. He hasn’t even asked her anything, he hasn’t even made the connection. He doesn’t even know. 

Her mind is racing out of control and he hasn’t even done it on purpose. She’s the one who’s acting like a lunatic. She doesn’t know why she feels like she should say something, doesn’t even know what, because it would all sound wrong anyway.

You know, Teddy, she almost hears herself saying, but you know, Teddy, what exactly? Why can’t she get this thought out of her head? He’s blissfully unaware, and he’s just a child that is playfully pretending to be a wolf, what the hell wrong with you, Ginny, pull yourself together. 

She continues spiralling as she notices that he’s stopped howling, and is now observing her with curiosity. 

Fuck, you’re going to traumatise him, aren’t you. 

As she looks at him more closely, she notices that his eyes, that have been blue like his hair for months now, have now turned darker - a warm, chocolaty brown. And instead of feeling even more horrified, she simply calms down, her panic gone.

Funny how Lupin can offer her comfort even in death.

.

She is staring at the empty desk in front of her. The bell has rung and all her classmates have left already, but somehow she can’t bring herself to get out of the classroom and head to lunch. Not yet, because she is staring at the empty desk in front of her so intensely, almost as if she could get it to talk to her. She remembers sitting there, less than a year ago, just before her memory had gone blank into one of her many blackouts. She remembers opening her diary on her lap, bored to death at the sound of Professor Lockhart’s pompous voice, she remembers jotting down a few thoughts pretending to be taking notes. Then she remembers a voice, his voice, and nothing more. Maybe if she stares at the desks hard enough, it will come back to her, maybe she will remember how she got from the classroom to Hagrid’s shed and then back to the castle again… 

‘What are you still doing here, Ginny?’.

She blinks once, and then once again, trying to bring Professor Lupin’s greyish frame into focus. She isn’t sure since when he’s been sitting on the chair in front of her.

‘Are you looking for something?’, he asks, watching her carefully. She must look rather lost, because he quickly adds: ‘You did well in class, today.’

‘I - er, no - I mean, thanks,’ she blurts out. His dark brown eyes are still focused on her, studying her in detail.

She clears her throat, as if to gather her courage. There is something she’s been wanting to ask him, actually, but she isn’t even sure that she should bring it up. Percy has made it clear that she shouldn’t talk about it with anybody, but Percy doesn’t really understand what it feels like, doesn’t it? To lose control, to not know.

‘I suppose you were wondering what happened on the train a few days ago?’, says Professor Lupin bluntly, as if it’s the most obvious thing on the planet.

‘How do you -?’

‘You wouldn’t be the first to ask.’

As she observes him a little more closely than ever before, she realises he must be much younger than he looks. He has a few grey locks of hair here and there, his face is tired and emaciated, but he doesn’t have wrinkles around his eyes and mouth like her dad. 

He smiles, encouragingly. She clears her throat again. 

‘My brother Percy’s told me about the Dementors,’ she mutters, her glare back on the desk. ‘I know they make people feel bad. It’s just -’.

She suddenly hears it again, that low, yet so familiar voice, telling her she should not be frightened. Then flashes of light, blood, screams, and her clothes are unexplainably damp. 

She shivers, subtly patting her robes. She’s fine. She’s fine.

‘I did some things last year,’ she hears herself say. She doesn’t even know how she’s managed to gather enough strength to.

‘I just fear - well, I guess I worry that the Dementors will make me do them again.’

Professor Lupin falls silent for a few seconds. He continues to watch her, but has now stopped smiling.

‘From what I’ve heard, you haven’t chosen to do any of those things.’

He’s heard, then. She doesn’t wonder why - she reckons stories must travel fast among Hogwarts staff, too.

She would normally be ashamed, but now she can’t help but feel a hint of relief, stemming from Merlin knows where. After all, yes, he’s heard, but he’s still talking to her like she isn’t any different; he’s heard, and he’s still offered her chocolate. 

‘Don’t worry, Ginny, Dementors can’t make you reenact your bad memories. They surely make you relive them, though,’ he furrows his brows, as if an unexpected thought has suddenly crossed his mind. ‘Do you - er - have enough support here?’

She’s taken aback by this question, shame creeping on her cheeks. ‘I’ve got four brothers here,’ she quickly responds, but she knows that this isn’t what he means. She sighs. He seems to understand.

‘I’m working on it,’ she sputters, defensively. ‘It’s not exactly easy to make friends when all the girls in your dormitory think you’re a freak.’

It comes out spontaneously, but she immediately regrets using that tone with a professor. However, to her great surprise, he bursts into laughter.

‘I guess you’re right,’ he says, throwing her an enigmatic look. ‘But believe me when I say that friends are the most precious gift that Hogwarts can give you. Real friends will help you overcome all the hard times; and if they think you’re a freak, well, they’ll choose to be freaky with you.’

He stops smiling, suddenly looking rather thoughtful, but then quickly shakes his head. Somehow, she ends up with the strange feeling that he’s no longer having this conversation only with her.

‘Might I suggest,’ he adds, now back to his reassuring tone. ‘That you perhaps try to talk to other students that might have had - how to put this - a similar experience to yours? Harry’s a good friend of your brother’s, isn’t he?’

She feels it coming - the blush. One of the big ones. One of the bad ones.

‘No! I don’t think -’, she hisses, suddenly horrified, redder than she’s ever been in her life. ‘I don’t think that would work.’

He raises his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth slightly twitching.

‘Well, you never know,’ he states matter-of-factly. He then stands up, patting his hands on his legs. ‘But now I must really let you go. I wouldn’t want you to feel unwell during your next class because you haven’t had any lunch.’

She nods, grabs her things, mutters an awkward ‘Thanks’. Just when she’s about to leave, she hears him speak again.

‘It may be hard to understand now, but what happened to you doesn’t define you. Please, don’t ever forget that.’

It’s true, she doesn’t understand that quite just yet, but she will remember those words for the rest of her life.

For now, she’s busy spending the next few days ridiculously terrified by the thought of Professor Lupin telling Harry about their conversation. She imagines Harry looking at her with pity, disgust even, as a stupid little girl who can’t bring herself to make some friends. But this doesn’t happen - Harry barely ever looks at her, and when he does he seems, well, normal. She’s quite glad of that, for one. She’s also so incredibly glad that Professor Lupin respected her enough to keep her secret, that he could be trusted.

Years later, she’ll regret never having told him that she and Harry had fallen in love. She’ll reckon he would’ve liked to know that, he might have even been delighted. She’ll figure, as a punch in her stomach, that she’d assumed they’d have more time.

.

‘You know what, Teddy, you’re right,’ she finally says, gently stroking his hair. ‘Wolves aren’t scary.’

He beams, looking rather satisfied with her answer, and pulls up his back to sit against a big pillow.

‘Let’s play another game!’

Ginny sighs at his never ending source of energy; her hopes that relaxing under the fort would somehow make him drowsy are completely shattered. She quickly glances at the clock on the wall - if Andromeda finds out that Teddy's been up so late, she’ll never hear the end of it.

‘Time out, Teddy,’ she says, faking a yawn. ‘We should really go to bed now.’

Teddy frowns, pouting his lips and wrinkling his little nose.

‘What if we read the story of Babbity Rabbity?’, she then intervenes tentatively, hoping to jump in just in time to prevent a tantrum. ‘Come on, you love Babbity Rabbity…’

But Teddy isn’t having it. He shakes his head fervently, now crossing his arms.

Ginny wonders if this is the time to be a bit more assertive with him, if she could dare, even. Sometimes she feels like she’s still tiptoeing around him - she’s the one giving him all the fun and games, but when it comes to discipline, she finds that she’s quite rattled. He’s not her child, after all; she fears it’s not her place. Most of the time, she finds herself wondering how Lupin would deal with his son’s tantrums; she would love to see what Tonks would do. She reckons she would do anything to learn a bit more about parenthood from them both, even though (and to only remotely fathom this, her heart sinks) they haven’t had the chance to be parents for long. They would’ve been brilliant at it, though - this is merely her fantasy, sure, as she actually doesn’t know. Tonks and Lupin will remain fundamentally pure in her memory, because she doesn’t like to remember their flaws, especially not in relation to Teddy, and it won’t do any good to anyone, anyway.

‘Why don’t you finish up your milk first?’, she tries again, pointing at the abandoned mug on the floor. With a flick of her wand, she mildly warms it up again. 

He nods enthusiastically, but something goes wrong when he grabs the mug and he spills all the remaining milk all over himself and the blanket. He immediately looks up at her, his eyes filled with remorse and anticipation, almost as if he’s realised he’s gone a step too far. Ginny is aware that Teddy’s clumsy to the point of exasperating his grandmother, and that he might even expect a scolding for his little distraction, but she feels a sudden rush of affection towards him instead.

‘All right,’ she says, standing up and taking him in her arms. ‘Time for another bath.’

She could easily scurgify and dry up his pyjamas, but she remembers how good it would feel when her mum would bathe her and then wrap her in a warm towel, always offering her snuggles and kisses along the process. She repeats the same ritual with Teddy, even playing with some dragon and quaffle toys in the water with him, just as her mum used to - only that the toys, at the time, were old and faded, sometimes missing a paw or an eye. 

She wraps him in the softest towel she can find, swings him in her arms while dancing across the hallway to reach her bedroom, and pretends to drop him on her bed. He laughs so hysterically and uncontrollably that his hair becomes curly. Her heart couldn’t be any more full.

She retrieves his pyjamas bottoms with a quick ‘Accio’ and helps him wear them, but decides to leave his milk-stained t-shirt on the bathroom floor. She ransacks first Harry’s, and then her own clothes drawer in search of something clean for Teddy to wear that isn’t the top of Harry’s Auror uniform, a pair of mismatched socks, a bra or some old Christmas jumpers. 

That’s when she sees it, stuck in the back of the drawer - a hint of green. She touches the cotton fabric and seizes it. It still feels soft, despite having been left unworn and forgotten in a drawer for years.

She realises her hands are shaking. She’d never thought she could’ve forgotten.

.

Ginny had never assumed she could smell dust before, but now she’s quite positive she’s been in the wrong all her life. As she sits in the dining room of 12 Grimmauld Place, taking a break from the massive amount of cleaning her mother has decided to subject her to since they’ve moved here (no exceptions, not even today), she feels like every inch of her body is covered with dust. Her hair, her fingers, her nose - to the extent that she thinks she can actually smell it. And it’s not great, considering that the more extensive the efforts they make to clean up the house, the more the house seems to turn out filthier than before.

Today it’s only her and her mother on cleaning duty, though. Everyone else is too preoccupied with what’s going to happen tomorrow - the tense whispering and nervous pacing are becoming almost unbearable. Her mum is worried too, of course, but she reckons that trying to tidy up this wreck of a place is the only way she knows to distract herself at the moment. Ginny is, for one, happy to oblige. She’d never thought she’d say this, but she’d rather dust every single one of those house-elf heads hanging on top of the stairs with a toothbrush rather than giving in to everyone’s anxiety.

Amused by the thought, she gets up to go and do just that, but someone barges loudly in the room from the door behind her back.

‘Wotcher, Ginny,’ says a ringing voice. ‘So, where's the party?’

Ginny smiles at Tonks, who has styled her hair in a bright purple ponytail today. Before she can say anything, Tonks hands her a little parcel, wrapped in crumpled paper that must have once belonged to an issue of the Daily Prophet. She recognises some of the scattered, black-inked words - ‘The Boy Who Lies?’, or: ‘Let’s hope he hasn’t got a scar on his forehead or we’ll be asked to worship him next’, and: ‘Delusional teenager’, ‘Better skilled at seeking attention than golden snitches’,  ‘Expert Circe Bryce confirms that orphaned children often employ cunning strategies to cope with their abandonment complex (more on page 8).’

‘Sorry,’ utters Tonks with an apologetic half-smile. ‘That’s all I could find.’

Ginny shrugs and lets out an unlikely high-pitched cackle. Laughs at the irony of it all. Everything seems to be overflowing with Harry these days, even her birthday presents. 

She rips out the paper, unsure whether she’s more eager to see what’s inside or to get those stupid printed words out of her sight. The first thing that she finds is soft and bright green, an unmistakable green, and she already knows what it is.

‘You didn’t!’, she cries out in complete disbelief. ‘No way!’

‘Heard you’re a big fan.’

Ginny wields a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt in her hands as if it’s a trophy, her most prized possession, and her eyes are sparkling.

‘The design is from 1981, the year you were born, I s’pose,’ continues Tonks with a satisfied look on her face, pointing at the golden print on the front of the t-shirt. It reads Holyhead Harpies in a curly font, never seen before. ‘I thrifted it from a small shop in Diagon Alley. I should take you there some time.’

Ginny nods with excitement, although she’s only listened to half of what Tonks’s said, too busy marvelling at her new t-shirt.

‘Come on now,’ adds Tonks, sounding very amused, pointing at the half-opened parcel. ‘There’s something else in there.’

Ginny opens her eyes wide and immediately dives her hands into the wrapping paper. She finds something thin and folded - when she opens it, it reveals a moving picture of Gwenog Jones darting through the air on her broomstick.

‘She’s a badass, isn’t she,’ comments Tonks. Ginny doesn’t respond right away, too busy mentally scanning the walls of her bedroom back at the Burrow to decide where to hang the picture.

‘Blimey, you’re spoiling me, Tonks,’ she manages to let out after a bit, still holding the t-shirt with one hand and her new poster with the other. She then throws her arms around Tonks’s neck, squeezing her tight. ‘Thank you, so much.’

She doesn’t quite know what she’s done to deserve Tonks’s affection after knowing her for barely over a month. It’s true, they spend most of their days together under the same roof, but they seem to have just instantly connected regardless. Tonks embodies everything that she aspires to be one day, plus she’s bold, unbelievably funny, and doesn’t coddle her. It feels good to be surrounded by women that aren’t her mother for a change - soothing, even. For what may be the first time in her life, this summer she’s truly felt the urge and longing for female companionship - maybe because she’s finally started getting used to it, back at school and here at Grimmauld Place. And now that Hermione’s back to fussing over Harry with her brother, and her mother is too busy running around barking at people, she’s really only got Tonks to rely on. What amazes her is that Tonks doesn’t seem to mind - on the contrary, she appears to be rather thrilled to spend time with her when she can, unbothered by their age gap, almost taking her under her wing. In a time of her life in which she feels left out, a spare, Tonks has chosen to give her some purpose, to make her feel necessary. She doesn’t know why she does it, only that she’ll be eternally grateful for it.

‘Ah, it’s nothing,’ smiles Tonks, gently pulling away from her to give her a pointed look. ‘I’m sorry that we didn’t celebrate you more, though.’ 

She doesn’t need to add more about lingering wars, resistance movements and impending Ministry hearings.

‘What are you talking about,’ says Ginny, brushing those thoughts off quickly. ‘This birthday’s been dashing. Even your cousin’s made me a card.’

That’s quite true, actually. Her mum's baked a cake and everybody (well, except some angsty black-haired teenager, know anyone?) gathered around the table to sing her ‘Happy birthday’ first thing in the morning. Then she's opened her gifts - a jumper from her parents, quite a few boxes of Honeydukes from all her brothers, and the unexpected birthday card from Sirius, with the handmade drawing of a flying hippogriff that waves hello and smirks at her. Hermione's got her a book, unsurprisingly - but that’s frustrated her a little, because she knows she won’t be able to reciprocate on her own birthday, except with a stupid singing card and (if she’s lucky) with a box of chocolates stolen from one of her brothers. 

Tonks chuckles lightly. ‘Has that special boy wished you a happy birthday?’

Ginny shrugs, and just as she’s about to mutter a resentful ‘Barely’, she realises with a pinch of guilt that Tonks is talking about - well, another boy.

‘Michael’s sent me an owl,’ she says, blushing softly. ‘Said he misses me.’

‘Bet he does,’ remarks Tonks, observing her very carefully all of a sudden, as if she wants to read her mind. She waits a few seconds and then, rather out of the blue, she simply adds: ‘Don’t ever settle, all right?’

Ginny frowns, puzzled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Tonks doesn’t answer, but winks at her, laughing. ‘You’ll understand with time, you’ll see.’

And indeed, she will.

.

Ginny wonders if the small shop in Diagon Alley is still there after the war. She’d like to find it now, pay it a visit, maybe purchase something in Tonks’s honour. They’d never managed to go together, in the end.

She exhales heavily and taps the vintage Holyhead Harpies t-shirt with her wand, shrinking it just enough to fit Teddy perfectly. She reckons he should keep it; she doesn’t seem to have it in her to wear it, anyway.

Teddy falls asleep peacefully wearing that t-shirt and maybe it’s pathetic, maybe it’s irrational, but she can’t help hoping that his mother’s touch will comfort him in his dreams tonight. 

She’s so deep in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice that Harry’s arrived home until he plants a gentle kiss on the back of her head.

‘Tough evening?’, he asks softly, gesturing towards Teddy.

Ginny sighs, leaning her head on his chest. ‘It was fine.’

He seems to understand, though, and decides not to push further. They hold each other in silence for a while, their eyes captured by the little boy snuggled under the blanket and asleep in their bed. Staring at the past and the future, all at once.

[venerawrites]

THANK YOU wonderful lovely person for writing for this fandom 😍 so glad you're here!💐

if you feel inspired, may I request some hurt/comfort Sasuke goodness? can be modern au depression or dealing w the aftermath of the truth behind the Uchiha massacre...are there any ways to help him out of a bereft slump or have faith in the future again?

also, your theme and artwork choices are simply gorgeous 🙌🏻 and the delicious angst 🤤

author's note: thank you so much for your beautiful words! I have been waiting to be in the right mood for this one, so I am really sorry you had to wait this long... I really hope you like it, because I always feel like comfort is the hardest for me to write. Thank you for requesting and for the idea! <3

Some people leave your life just as unexpectedly as they show up. They offer nothing but distant memories of shared late evenings and cold tea, which soon make you question your sanity and if they were ever real at all.

Such person was Sasuke Uchiha.

You met him years ago, while he was working for a shady man called Orochimaru and was in pursuit of revenge against his brother. He was not like any boy you've met before: arrogant, proud, constantly tense, and untrusting. Rarely talked about himself, and much preferred to sit in silence, dwelling on his own thoughts, than to voice his feelings and opinions out loud. He always seemed in a hurry, constantly telling you he could stay no longer than an hour before he had to leave again.

To this day you never learned the true intentions behind his visits. The first time it was a simple call for help - sitting on a lone hill between the borders of the Land of Wind and the Land of Rivers, he easily mistaken your cottage for an abandoned house where he could seek refuge after being badly wounded.

A terrifying surprise was written on both of your faces once you came back home later that afternoon only to find the black-haired ninja bleeding heavily on your bed. You were no medic, but you used your limited knowledge of herbal medicine to help his recovery as much as you could. In return, he spared your life.

He visited irregularly, but often after this. Sometimes he showed up three times per week, and sometimes months passed before you heard from him again. Sasuke never offered any explanation about where he was or what he was doing, instead often justifying his random appearances as his need for alternative treatment for his scars and wound.

The first few times it made you raise your brows in question - you were not an expert healer, all you knew being tales passed down from your grandmother about the properties of a handful of plants. Yet, you never spilled your suspicion out loud to him, instead quietly finding comfort in his presence.

It was strange how well you got along, your shared love for silence and solitude somehow bringing you together. Most of the time you just sat there, next to each other, quietly sipping your tea and staring at the sky.

Sometimes you caught him glancing at you or curiously inspecting all the pictures and books you had on the shelves around your living room, his lips pressed into a thin line of concentration, while he tried to put the pieces of your life story together in his mind. He never asked you for more other than your name and your age. You never offered anything more either.

It took a few months after his last visit for you to realize he wasn't coming back and that in the end, he was no more than a stranger to you - you didn't know anything about him other than his name, his birth village, and the fact that he wanted to kill his brother. His motives were never revealed, and his ambitions for the future - never shared.

Despite this, it always felt like he was some form of friend to you. There was a silent understanding that both of you carried too much weight on your shoulders and you did not wish to revisit a painful past by re-telling it, instead finding peace in watching the beauty of the stars up the sky or the birds, who migrated to their new home in the late summer afternoons.

Years have passed since then. What you cherished as meaningful moments soon turned into dusty memories, that never reminded you of him outside your dreams. Life continued, despite time staying still - time always felt frozen when you lived a life by yourself, away from all humanity.

So when you found him one day, glaring at you with red eyes, you were both dumbfounded and terrified. He looked at you in a way that screamed hatred, rage, sadness, and pain. For a second you wondered if they were directed at you.

"I didn't know where else to go."

His voice was the total opposite of how he looked - it was small and weak, almost on the verge of breaking.

You quickly stepped aside, an unspoken invitation for him to come into your home. His feet hurried past you and you closed the door after him, immediately walking toward the kitchen to prepare jasmine tea. His favourite. Sasuke didn't like tea, but there was something about the way you prepared it that always eased both his muscles and his nerves.

After a while you came back, holding two white mugs in your hands, only to find him with his head buried in his hands and his knee shaking violently. You quickly sat next to him, before placing the drinks on the table and turning toward him, instinctively placing your hand on his back, rubbing small circles.

"I did it", he said with a hoarse voice, his head still hanging low, his black locks covering his face from you. There was no need for him to say anything else - these three words were enough for you to understand that he has finally achieved his goal. The result, however, seemed not to be what he hoped for.

"I am sorry."

Sasuke finally raised his head, looking at you with narrowed eyes. You could see the trail of dry tears covering his cheeks and you easily assumed he must have cried while you were in the kitchen. His lips were twisted in a scowl and he let out an angry breath through his nose.

"I don't need your pity!"

Despite the aggression in his tone, his eyes started to tear up again and he squeezed his eyelids shut in a poor attempt to stop them from falling.

"I have finally learned the truth", he hissed through gritted teeth, "I finally learned why my brother really did it."

The mention of the word "brother" seemed to trigger something in him and the tears started flowing freely from his eyes, while his lips started to mumble incoherent sentences about the Uchiha Massacre, Konoha, and the orders the elders gave to his brother. It was a mess - he kept referring back to his talks with a man named "Madara" while jumping back and forth between the memories of that bloody night and his plans for destroying the Leaf. It took you a while to piece the chronology together, while the feelings he kept bottling for years just kept erupting, reducing what you once knew as a stoic and controlled man, into a sobbing, raging mess on the floor.

It took around an hour for him to finish his story and for you to quietly absorb every detail, while he poured his heart out to you. The hand that was first rubbing soothing patterns on his back, was laying flat in his palm, while his fingers squeezed it for dear life. It almost looked like he was afraid that you were nothing more than a fruit of his imagination and if he let go, you would disappear into thin air and leave him by himself.

"I will destroy them!", the vow was made once there were no more tears left for him to cry, "They will all pay for what they did to my clan! To Itachi! To ME!

Taking a sip of your tea, you hummed under your breath, before turning towards him. For the whole time he was here, you didn't comment on anything he told you, but you also didn't have the chance to do so, as Sasuke left no time between his voiced thoughts for you to mutter even a word.

"And then what?", the question surprised him and he turned to you with confused expression.

"What do you mean "then what?"

Pulling your hand away, you tilted your head to the side.

"You are going to destroy your village, sacrificing the innocent lives of many, including your old friends, teammates, and teachers", you thought out loud, moving your eyes toward the old map of the world that hung framed on the wall opposite you, "And then what? The Leaf's allies would without question turn against you, and then you are going to have to destroy them too. A bloody path, that would eventually end either in your early death or in pushing someone else to take your path and seek revenge on you."

The more you talked, the lower his brows were furrowing to the point he was staring at you under the dark shade of his frowning face. His face was almost distorted - switching from extreme emotions of sadness and grief to anger and aggression, his whole expression was now twisted in an almost inhuman grimace, a mixture of all.

"None of them are innocent", he huffed, his jaw working, "They were all enjoying a carefree life, because of the sacrifice of my brother... and even then, they still called him a traitor."

There were no words of rebuttal you could offer. You didn't know his life in the village, nor how the people there behaved. Perhaps, the people living there were monsters, who lacked both heart and soul. But weren't they like that everywhere? You may have lived alone and detached from society, but you had enough contact with traveling ninjas - both rogue and village warriors - to know that they were all often fighting for the same cause, it was just their ideas of how it could be achieved that differed.

"And is that something that he would wanted?"

The man lifted his knee and rested his arm on top of it. He seemed to contemplate your question, the muscles on his face twitching every few seconds.

"No", the truth came out as a disappointed sigh. His fingers clenched and you could hear his teeth gritting, before he looked at you with cold eyes.

"But I am not him! I won't repeat the same mistakes!"

Holding his gaze felt almost like staring into the eye of a brewing storm. The determination that he radiated hinted that this is was just the beginning - he still had more hate and more anger to give to the world.

"Yet you seem to repeat your own mistakes over and over", the challenge was bold and even he seemed taken aback. Sasuke rarely got people opposing him - other than Naruto, who always had to have a contrasting opinion - but usually his ideas were met either with encouragement or with silence. His own team was either too scared or too busy with their own worries to question him and his motives, often just nodding their heads at whatever he said.

A dry chuckle left his lips before he rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Every time he came he was met with the comfort of silence, your bond built entirely on the feeling of the safety he felt every time he visited. Now he wondered if that bond was even real - never had he expected that you would actually talk so much, let alone NOT support him.

He imagined that he would just come here, you would make him his favourite tea... and he didn't know what he was thinking when he came here. He didn't plan to tell you any of the truth he learned about his clan's death and Itachi, yet the sentences just kept spilling out of his body, almost like he had no control over it.

"What do you know?", he scoffed, giving you a mocking look, "You live here alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere."

Sasuke suddenly leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

"What exactly do you know about the world or even about living? The gravest mistake you probably made was to put too much water in your stupid tea. You know nothing about pain or the real world out there! You know nothing about having everything taken away from you!"

Your expression hardened. You held his furious stare, bravely accepting his poisonous words, which cut deeper and deeper into your soul. Once he finished talking, his breath was rigid once again.

"You will be no different than them", you stated blankly and the man grumbled in response, "The people who pushed your brother to commit these crimes. And I know deep down, you realise that too... Because somewhere out there there is a little kid, who just like you will one day waste his whole life chasing you, dreaming of punishing you, till they become just like you. And the cycle will continue."

His eyes were now back to his original onyx colour, yet the burning sensation they brought to your insides was just the same.

"I didn't come here for you to offer me lessons of morality."

"Why did you come then?"

No answer.

"I offer you nothing, but my honesty", you continued, standing up from your seat, "If you are here to seek support and encouragement for your plans of destroying the lives of thousands of innocent people, you are in the wrong place."

It was definitely a mistake visiting you. He should've known better. Why you, of all people, would understand him?

Grabbing his stuff, he followed your figure into the kitchen. You seemed unbothered by his looming presence behind you, instead focusing on washing the two empty cups. Once you were done, you just rested your hands on the counter, facing the big kitchen window that overlooked the forest. If it wasn't for the faint breathing sound, you would have thought he had left.

"There is light inside you, Sasuke", you finally said, "And no matter how hard you try to fight it, it is there. Don't try to kill it! Use it and spread it in order to bring the change you want to see."

"You don't know me!"

"Maybe not as much as I would like", you shrugged your shoulders, your eyes still gazing at the trees whose branches danced elegantly under the wind, "But I know if you were really that heartless, as you like me to think, you would've drawn that katana you rest your hand on a long time ago."

Sasuke moved his fingers away as if the handle of his weapon suddenly burned his skin and his head dropped low. How did you know, when your back was facing him the whole time?

Before he could raise his question, you started walking toward the door, waving your hand after you.

"Come!"

Not leaving any time for an answer, your form was already outside by the time he could register your simple command and follow it. He was not one to do what others told him to, but his body seemed to act on its own, his steps echoing after yours before his mind could protest.

The man found you sitting on your front steps, a place where you and he have shared countless late nights, just gazing at the sky above you. Like a habit, he sat next to you, easing into the comfort of your old routine without further questioning.

"This area was a village back when my parents were children. It was a small one - only a handful of farmers and herb gatherers", Sasuke looked at you in surprise, before scanning the area. He had never paid attention to the surroundings of your home, noting only the existence of a forest on the right and a large meadow on the left. Now, on a closer inspection, he could see the remaining stones and paths, which were half-covered by moss and too strategically placed around to be just random rocks.

There were remaining memories of buildings now long gone.

"My grandmother always said that our ancestors were tasked with the responsibility to restore what the Great Nations destroyed", you continued, bringing his attention back to you, "Where the ninja waged war, we followed to take care of the land and bring it back to life. Where the villagers left burned forests after they sought new places to build, we moved to these places to protect the balance between the human world and the natural one."

Sasuke listened patiently, his brows furrowed in confusion. Where were you getting with this story? And more importantly, where were all these people you talked about?

Almost like you've read his mind, your head turned toward him with a small sad smile on your lips.

"Our communities have been destroyed dozens of times and they rebuilt themselves just as many. This village was destroyed before I was even born by a conflict between the Land of Wind and the Land of River, one which had nothing to do with the hard-working people who were guilty only of trying to take care of the forest and wildlife", you looked towards your crossed fingers in your lap, suddenly overwhelmed of the sad destiny your family must have suffered.

"There is no greater sin than the arrogance of a man blinded by revenge. Shinobi keep waging wars with each other, each drop of blood they spill being with price of at least one innocent life. And they keep destroying, blinded by their hate, claiming that they only want to "save the world"", suddenly grabbing his arm, you pointed at the trees with your other hand, before dragging it across the air to the meadow, "But look!"

The onyx eyes followed the movement of your finger, before they rested on your face unimpressed.

"Look at what? Trees and grass?"

You huffed at his words, rolling your eyes.

"You are blind, Sasuke!", your forefinger poked his temple a few times and you could feel him stiffen under your touch, "You watch, but you don't see! It is not just trees and grass!"

When he offered no other reply than a small curling of his lips downwards, you gently grabbed his chin and forcefully turned it ahead again.

"It is life! A life born out of destruction, out of pain", your hand gestured around you once again, "The truth is the world doesn't need saving! It has existed for many, many years before us and will exist for many, many years after us. It is us, humans, that need saving... and not by more blood spilling or fear, or hate, or whatever other false values they try to teach you in your ninja academies."

His muscles finally started to relax under your touch, while he kept staring ahead, finally understanding the meaning of the words that you were saying. The slow realization that destroying Konoha is not the medicine for his bleeding soul was slowly creeping into his mind, suddenly making him confused and unsure.

"What if we can't be saved?", the heavy doubts that kept holding him down finally came to the surface, "What if we just... keep destroying?"

You looked at him in silence, before finally letting go of his arm. The sudden removal of warmth made him involuntarily shiver.

"We will keep destroying", you finally answered, pressing your tongue inside your cheek in thought, "I guess it is in our nature! But we will also rebuild. And we will learn from our past mistakes, making sure that we will not repeat them again."

Signing, you turned toward him, before reaching out for his hand again. All his life, Sasuke always thought he hated physical touch, but now it felt right. It felt like it was a silent promise that everything will somehow be alright.

"Do not go down the same path of hatred, Sasuke. Your destination will keep being the same, no matter how hard you try to avoid it", the corners of your lips curved slightly upwards, "Your pursuit for a better world is noble, but you can't do it alone! The same way this forest and meadow did not just pop in one day by themselves - it took years for them to grow, helped by bees, the birds, and even the wind and the rain... They all did their own part. The same way you need to do yours, alongside your friends."

The silence that followed was long, yet comfortable. His fingers wrapped around your palm, keeping your hand in his, while his mind considered the truth you just spoke. There was a part inside of him - the one that was still hurt and crying - that wanted to convince him that it was all just an empty talk. That he should not give up what he already started.

Another part, however, what seemed to be a louder one and for some reason sounded a lot like his brother's voice in his head, was agreeing with you, shifting the perspective he was looking from.

A long time passed till he spoke again.

"Promise me", there was no trace of anger on his face anymore, just tiredness, "That you will always be clear and honest with me."

You couldn't help the small smile that formed on his lips.

"I promise."

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

Two years have passed since the end of the war and Sasuke was once again on the road, this time accompanied by Sakura. Their final destination was unclear, but the first stop was already set in his mind - the cottage sitting on a hill between the borders of the Land of Wind and the Land of Rivers. He has not seen you since that night you opened his eyes to what is really important, but the thought of you never left his mind.

The woman next to him, who still had an unclear status between a teammate and friend, kept trying to make him share where were they going, but was often met either with just silence or with the simple explanation of "someone important". The description make her a bit uneasy, wondering who could have such an impact on Sasuke to want to check on them first thing after he was allowed to leave, but she did not question further, still unsure of how far the man's boundaries lie.

Once they got to the hill, however, her uneasiness grew.

"Sasuke, there is nothing here", she said, looking around the vast field that bordered a forest nearby, "Are you sure that person lived here? Maybe they moved?"

The man did not reply, his body being frozen in place. You were gone, the house was gone, it was just wild nature. He suddenly tensed, once he felt Sakura's hand laying flat between his shoulder blades and running small circles on top of the clothed skin.

Just like you did that night.

Sasuke made a few steps further, before kneeling and touching the ground. While looking the same as the rest at first glance, the grass covering the area where he vividly remembered your house being seemed different... almost greener, yet smaller.

A small parchment of paper poked out of the dirt next to his fingers and he carefully lifted it, revealing a burnt part of the world map that hung on your wall once. The majority of it was gone, but he could clearly make out the names of the Land of Wind, The Land of Rivers, and the Land of Fire. Right in the middle, was a small drawing of a few houses - an indication of where your community once resided. Where you once were.

Sakura peered over his shoulder, looking at the piece of paper with interest.

"There still don't seem to be any indication for a building being here", she noted, before kneeling next to him and caressing the grass with her fingers, "This part of the field was grown by someone. Look, it is a different shade and size from the rest! It is like someone tried to cover the area."

Sasuke stood up, eyes still focused on the piece of paper. There was one, just a brief pencil line, that started from the drawn houses and continued up, till it ended at the burnt end. The man has stared at least a hundred times at the map in your house and he could swear he has never seen this line on it.

"You must have used it to plan where to leave next", he thought to himself. Because deep down he knew you were not dead - everything was left too perfect, including planting seeds in the place which you used to occupy, for him to believe you had met your end.

No, you had to be somewhere out there, rebuilding what shinobi like him have destroyed during the war.

He turned his head toward the sun, watching it slowly dip beyond the horizon. His fingers put the paper in his pocket, before he turned to Sakura, informing her they have to go and find an inn before it gets too dark.

Some people leave your life just as unexpectedly as they show up. They offer nothing but distant memories of shared late evenings and cold tea, which soon make you question your sanity and if they were ever real at all.

And for Sasuke, such person was you.

cc artwork: Clement Tingry

[courtingchaos]

At the End of the World

Kas!Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

A/N: Don’t read too much into this. It struck me late and fast and now we’re here.

Warnings: Blood drinking

18+ NSFW No Minors

Another late night closing with just you and two other employees and all of Hawkins at the doorstep to Melvalds. The deeper fissures in the town still sat open but the government had shown up with all sorts of machines and now things could be delivered again and here you were, at work. At the end of the world.

Your keys jingle against the door and you wave off your coworkers who walk down the sidewalk ahead of you. The lock sticks sometimes and you’re left to struggle until you can yank your key ring free. A curse and a kick at the stack of cardboard you need to toss, you shove your hand into your purse to make sure you didn’t forget your wallet again. The main street stays lit by giant floodlights, the distant sound of road work and construction coming in with the late evening breeze. It’s cold now when the sun sets, October turning the weather and the leaves all the same like the earth hadn’t been split open just 5 months ago. You catch a whiff of a bonfire sprinkled on the back of the wind and for a moment you can pretend that everything is okay, that it’s all normal again.

10 pm and it’s later than anything in town stays open, Melvalds and the grocery store being the exception nowadays. Food and pharmacy to keep everyone afloat and stationary, locked in place by faceless government officials who tell you it’s for your own safety. For everyone’s safety.

You shake your head to clear it though, unwilling to linger on your pessimism any longer tonight. A long day full of half smiles and constant running back and forth to pull apart another pallet of Things Everyone Needs. Your room at your parents house, the one you’d moved back into after everything went to shit, calls to you from the cracked sidewalk and you hustle faster to toss your garbage and get to your car. The water mains have finally been repaired so you know you can actually look forward to a consistent hot shower tonight, can practically feel the beating of the water against your back.

You beeline for the alleyway so you can toss the empty cardboard, no thought given to a darkened path. Hawkins had been under curfew since the feds rolled in and with main street lit up you hadn’t worried about taking out the trash on your own in a while. You have to set the box down to to flip open the lid and that’s when you hear it. A muffled breathing from behind dumpster number two, something wet and ragged, something that makes you still completely. It’s human that’s for sure, heavy and big by the sound of it and you start yelling at yourself silently, cursing your placidity.

You take a single step back when you see a head rock into view near the wheels of the other dumpster. Too dark to make out anything yet, just a mass of hair that hasn’t seen a brush in too long. A rasp of a breath in and weakly, “D-do you work here?”

Frozen in place with your body poised to run, but that voice holds no malice. They stutter on their deep breaths, breaths that sound pained. “Y-yeah.” You don’t relax but you aren’t set to sprint anymore. “Are you okay?”

Neither of you move closer but the figure pulls themselves into view more, a frankly too thin hand wraps around the corner of the dumpster to pull themselves forward and you finally can make out a face covered in grime. Eyes shine in the light that bleeds into the alleyway and he, you can finally tell, looks close to tears. Face pulled into a grimace when he scoots out to sit on questionable concrete.

“I just…I need help.” His other arm hugs his middle where his shirt is torn and your mind goes fast, trying to remember the first aid you’d learned in Girl Scouts a thousand years ago.

“Are you hurt? I can go get someone.” You glance over your shoulder knowing there’s at least a cop or an agent doing rounds at this time. “There’s a patrol-“

That’s your mistake, you’ll own it, turning around for too long. For trusting a stuttering mess. You turn back to face him and are stunned at how quickly he’s standing in front of you, those bright wet eyes boring holes into your head. You’d thought it was the shadows maybe but they really are black, from corner to corner, deep abyss that tracks your jump backwards.

You hadn’t heard him stand or shift or breathe and he’s so god damn close.

“I don’t need a patrol.” His voice sounds like white noise. A tuning to your hearing that makes your ears flex backwards at the sudden foreign noise. You swear you can feel it vibrating against your eardrums and coiling deep inside, words made corporeal to slither into your skull. There’s two voices bouncing between you, a double speak that seems to run cold around your neck. “I just need one of you.”

You couldn’t move if you wanted to. It isn’t fear holding your feet to the stained ground but an invisible grip, ironclad and cold, just like his words. You can move your eyes though and you rake over his appearance and try to keep it in your memory.

Long hair, dark eyes, no shoes, ratty jeans, torn raglan with a devil-

“Eddie?” Barely breathed out, silently uttered. He was dead. Well, at least presumed. You’d seen the flyers his uncle had put up and you’d seen how the town had treated them; crude drawings and torn off of the bulletin boards. “Eddie Munson?” You ask again to the pale face in front of you. Four years of high school seated next to him in drivers ed and home ec and art class. Not friends but acquaintances. You know that face. Even when it splits into a formidable grin you can see the ghost of his warm smile under cracked lips.

“Sort of.” His hands come up slowly to hold your neck, thumbs resting under your chin to tilt your head back. “It’s complicated.”

You expect his hands to tighten around your neck but they remain gentle in their movement, too cold against your skin. Unnaturally cold under your jaw where he starts to turn your head to the side.

“I thought I smelled something familiar around here.” His breath moves over your neck like the cold autumn breeze, carrying the promise of dead things at its end. Your heart beats tirelessly against your ribs and you still can’t move except for when he manipulates you around, his head dipping into the crook of your neck.

Fear should be at the forefront of your mind. You should be screaming and shaking, yelling for the police you know are just outside of the mouth of alley. You should be fighting back at him, fist wailing into his chest to push him back so you can fly out of his grip. However there’s a creeping calm of sorts that weaves through your thoughts. It feels fuzzy almost against your brain and you don’t even flinch when his dry tongue scratches over your skin.

“I do need help.” He keeps a hand pressed to your neck while the other pulls at your work polo, baring your flesh to his mouth. “Thank you.”

You can hear him in that moment, Eddie, not whatever this thing is that’s sinking its teeth into you. It hurts only for a moment, like a prick of a needle, and you can feel your mind going blank. Thoughts slip quick like water over rocks and you catch yourself on his shoulder to stay standing. That invisible force that bound you to the spot has faded as soon he begins to suck and again you should be running but you cling. There’s a peacefulness that comes with absence of thought and worry, enough so that you barely notice him drinking your blood. You barely notice the gore in his hair or the deep scars along his cheek. Your hearing begins to fade to only the single sound of his lips attached to you.

A fade to black for all your senses.

And then you feel it. Black tendrils that sneak into your awareness. They swirl and thrash in their form, long fingers of doom that grow around you. It’s a rushing feeling like a thousand wings brushing by you, pushing air across your face and ruffling your hair.

“Do you hear it?” Eddie whispers against your ear, lips warm and tongue wet where it drags along your lobe. “Monsters in the sky, right under us.” You’ve been lowered at some point, his back resting against the dumpster and you clung to the front of him. “So many they’d blot out the sun.” His hands still hold you but they’re warm now too against your cooling skin. “They’re looking for me.” A drop of something on your nose, something thick that drips onto his filthy shirt. “For us.”

Everything is muffled except for his clear voice. Those black tendrils move steadily along your awareness still, vines creeping in to drag you under into oblivion. Your throat sticks when you swallow and you try to form words before you pass out or die. Eddie’s head tilts in close to your mouth and you can smell the dirt and viscera on him.

“Something’s…around…”

“What is it?” He makes a show of looking around the shadows of the alleyway before letting his eyes drop to your barely open ones. The deep black is gone, replaced again by the familiar brown you know.

“Not here.” You need him to understand. The fingers crawl into your vision now, the few specks of light left that you can see, great red eyes in the middle distance of your mind. “Inside.” A weak motion to your head and you see it dawn on his face.

“You can see him too?” He asks you but doesn’t wait for a response before he digs his teeth into his own wrist. Blood rushes from the corners of his mouth and he shoves the mangled skin at you, your wince doing nothing to get it away from you. He cradles your head now, knees drawn up to help hold you while he feeds you something of himself. The blood pushes past your slack lips, bitter tannin where you expected salt and copper. No fight left in you while the wind rushes in your ears and the dark fist closes over your minds eye.

“I need help.” He intones again when you latch on to his wrist finally. “Will you help me?” No double speak this time, no white noise to warp your thoughts. Eddie asks you for help while you lay in a cold alley on cold concrete and drink from his self inflicted wound. You’ve never been friends, just acquaintances, but the blood is heavy on your tongue. He holds you close and keeps you both hidden in the dark. He sees the same monstrous form you do and there’s fear in those brown eyes, still shining, still wet with tears.

Your senses stop whining like a flicked switch, your hands coming up to grasp more fully at his offered arm. You nod and keep drinking and there’s that smile again, the real one, the warm one. “Thank you.”

It’s silent now except for the sounds of your eating and the rush of leathery wings beating underneath your feet.

[happydragon]

Revenge Best Served Wet

Summary: It should be known, that an angry Omega is a scary Omega

AO3

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 719

“Whatcha doin’ there Meg?” Hunter asked as he crossed his arms and watched his twelve and a half year old sister fill up what seemed to be a water gun from the kitchen sink. That wasn’t really a strange sight seeing as Fives got her those last month when he, Echo, and Rex visited. She and Fives spent almost all weekend playing with the new toys and no one was safe from the chaos that was unleashed. 

The truly strange sight was her dressed in a gray tank top with camo pants and one his bandanas wrapped around her forehead. Her face seemed to be smeared with mud and dirt, four lines across her face as if she did it with her own fingers. Thankfully that was the only place he saw any, with the rest of her being mostly clean. In addition to the gun in her hand, she had another one strapped to her back 

“I’m preparing to hunt down Crosshair,” Omega answered casually, as if you asked her what time it was. 

It had been six months since Crosshair left the Empire and rejoined his family in their relatively new home. It had been a rocky start for all of them, especially Hunter and Crosshair, but like always they learned and adapted. More often than not, it felt like Cross never left. Omega definitely loved having another brother to do stuff with.  

“Uh huh.” Hunter leaned against the counter as he watched her fill up two refillable bottles that could be exchanged when her water gun ran out. Fives picked out a nice set.

“Do I want to know what he did to incur your wrath?”

She leveled him with a glare that made the hairs stand on the back of his neck. 

“He ate my leftovers.” With that, she ran out the backdoor to do Maker knows what. Hunter decided it would be best if he stayed out of this fight. 

An hour or so later, he heard the tell-tell sign of Crosshair’s car coming into the driveway. Hunter was slightly surprised to hear his brother open the door and watch him walk into the living room completely dry. Hunter would have figured Omega would have attacked as soon as Cross got home, which made him only more terrified of what she had planned. Echo and Tech were horrible influences. 

“Why are you so surprised to see me?” Crosshair asked, pulling Hunter away from the horrors. 

“No reason,” he dodged, “On an unrelated note, did you eat Omega’s leftovers?”

“Depends. Were they in a to-go box?” Hunter nodded. “Then yeah. Took it with me for lunch. How’d you know?”

“I didn’t. Omega did and she’s out for revenge.”

Crosshair scoffed. Oh boy. 

“What’s the worst she could do? Give me the silent treatment?”

“I promise you, it’s not what you think.”

Crosshair looked warilly at Hunter before he headed upstairs to his bedroom. Hunter was just about to settle back into watching whatever show was on when a yowl made him jump. It came from Crosshair’s room. Terrified, Hunter ran as fast as he could, only to find Crosshair tensed up at his bedroom door, a wet spot directly in the middle of his shirt. When Hunter peeked inside his brother’s room, he found none other than his sister stradling the open window, water gun aimed toward Crosshair. Her mouth was set into a viscous smirk at successfully catching her brother off guard. What truly concerned Hunter though, was that she was on the window when he never heard her come back in. 

“Omega!” he exclaimed, “How did you get there?!”

“I climbed the lattice to the roof,” she shrugged. The window would already be unlocked because Crosshair liked to sometimes sit on the roof of the back porch, so it really did make the best way to sneak up on him. 

“You’ll pay for that,” Crosshair spat. 

“I look forward to it,” Omega grinned, “You’ll find your weapon on your bed. See you in the backyard in five.”

With that, she climbed off the wind and ran back over to the lattice. Crosshair snatched the water gun and followed her out the window. Hunter watched for a moment before shutting the window, silently telling himself to warn Tech and Wrecker away from the backyard.

Hope y'all enjoyed reading that as much as I enjoyed writing it!!! Super excited for this summer!!!