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daydreamtofiction · 1 year

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Malicious Compliance // Surgeon Strange x Reader

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Summary: After a brief meeting with the world renowned neurosurgeon Doctor Stephen Strange, he plans to make you his latest conquest. He’s only interested in one thing, but that’s okay, because so are you. (female reader)

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: Strong language, explicit sexual content, pre-sorcerer Strange (arrogant, cocky). Smut: no strings attached, dominance & praise, oral sex (receiving), light choking, unprotected sex (sort of?). Readers must be 18+

A/N: Just a quick lil oneshot for you all. I literally thought of this today and the whole thing poured out of me in one sitting lmao. I like it though, hope you guys do too!

His eyes are glaciers. Cold, hard, yet always moving. They flit towards the window, sunlight turning them the crispest blue, then back down to the notebook on the table in front of him. They warm slightly when he looks over to Doctor Palmer, roll languidly whenever Doctor West speaks. But in the end, they always seem to settle back on you.

He’s as hubristic as you’d expected; leant back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, taking up as much space as his body will allow. He corrects a colleague when they call him Stephen. It’s Doctor Strange, he says, voice so deep and rich it’s almost tangible.

He watches as you press your finger to the inner corner of your eye, trying to rub away the tired itch beginning to take root there. You wonder how offended he’d be if he knew you fell asleep reading one of his published papers last night, how you woke up in your hotel room this morning with your cheek pressed to page seventeen of The Strange Palmer Method. It would make his blood boil, you think, to know his work had been used as a pillow. You resist the urge to tell him.

Coffee burns the roof of your mouth. You wince and place the cup back down on the boardroom table, sift through the pile of papers in front of you as the room waits for you to speak again.

“Honey,” says Doctor Strange.

“I’m sorry?” you reply.

He points to your mouth. “It’ll help with that burn.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Oh I didn’t- It was just a little warmer than I expected. Thanks, though.”

The corner of his mouth curls and he turns to look down the length of the table, the flecks of silver at his temple catching in the light.

You clear your throat as you find the document you were looking for. “So, pending approval from the ABMS, we would like to roll out training for the Strange Palmer Method in all of our hospitals.”

“What about my new technique for stent placement?” asks Doctor West.

“Oh please, Nic,” Strange scoffs. “We’re talking about actual revolutionary surgical procedures here.”

Doctor West’s back straightens, you open your mouth to speak but he gets there first.

“Excuse me, my stent technique could drastically cut down the amount of time a patient’s brain is open on the table! Do you even realise-”

“Mhm, why don’t you go win some awards and make national news, then maybe we can talk.”

Doctor Palmer’s head falls into her hands as the other surgeons groan and shift uncomfortably in their seats. You’ve met your fair share of asshole surgeons in this job; travelling up and down the country stroking egos and exalting god complexes. But this man sitting across from you is, without a doubt, the victor of them all.

“The stent technique is very interesting,” you say, easing the tension in the room. “But we would need to see the results of a study or trial of some kind before taking it any further.”

“Very diplomatic of you,” says Strange.

“Not diplomatic. I just know a promising procedure when I see it.”

“Hm. Are you a doctor?”

Your gaze turns to a glare. “I am.”

“Where do you practice?”

“I don’t anymore. My job is to keep other doctors at the top of their game. Hence why I’m here right now with all of you.”

He’s almost smirking, head cocked slightly, twiddling a pen between his fingers. It’s fitting, you think, to see a surgeon take such pleasure in getting under people’s skin.

You hate that you find him attractive. That you’ve managed to fall victim to a charm buried so deep beneath layers of pure arrogance that you have to dig to find it. If he wasn’t so beautiful on the outside, you’re almost certain you wouldn’t bother fighting to find something redeemable within. But the way your body reacts to him; the warmth, the buzzing deep in your belly, it must be there.

The meeting finishes and you remain at the table, straightening the wad of papers in front of you and slotting them back into your binder as everyone filters out of the room. When you’re alone, you stand and walk to the large window, taking a moment to gaze out at the view. Your eyes skim New York City, admiring the blend of old and new; small stone buildings wedged between tall skyscrapers, the late afternoon sun glinting across metal and glass, pockets of green peppered amongst brick and mortar. You wish you got to come here more often.

You pick up your briefcase and drape your jacket over your arm as you make your way out of the boardroom. The corridor is bright and quiet, but the bustling of the hospital is a low hum. You close the door behind you and begin to walk, unfazed by the sight of a figure leaning against the wall up ahead.

His arms are folded over his broad chest, dark blue scrubs doing little for his tall, robust frame. His legs are crossed at the ankles as he rests his weight back against the wall, head stooped slightly, but his eyes are on you.

“Doctor Strange,” you say with a polite nod as you continue past him.

He smiles, allows you to pass, but you feel him move behind you.

“You don’t really think Doctor West’s procedure holds any merit?” he asks, catching up to walk at your side.

“I do.” You furrow your brow. “You don’t think there’s merit in improving the efficiency of existing surgeries?”

He shrugs. “Just not all that exciting when you compare it to what I’m doing.”

“You mean what you and Doctor Palmer are doing…”

There’s a chuckle deep in his throat, like he enjoys the back and forth, watching his opponents fight for their lives while to him it’s just a sparring match. He quickens his pace to slip in front of you, turning to face you and forcing you to halt in the middle of the corridor.

“Be honest,” he says. “You’re impressed.”

“Of course we’re impressed. Why else would the board have sent me here?”

“No I mean you, specifically.”

You glare up at him, hiding your amusement with an eye roll. “Yes, Doctor,” you say slowly, your words empty and biting. “I am very impressed.”

His cupid’s bow deepens as his lips curve into a self satisfied smile, lines forming in his cheeks and the corners of his eyes. He knows you find him infuriating, but it only seems to encourage him. There’s a moment of silence, long enough for his gaze to trail the length of you, just once.

“You know, I’d love to talk more with you about it,” he says, looking down at his obviously expensive watch. “Maybe over dinner. Have you eaten?”

You draw in a deep breath through your nose, letting it out in a sigh as you begin to speak. “I don’t need your superficial attempts to woo me, Doctor.” You reach into your briefcase and pull out a pen and a business card, scrawling on the back of it and handing it to him. “This is where I’m staying. Come by around eight.”

You’re certain he’s going to protest, pretend he actually wants to go to dinner, talk, that he was ever interested in anything that didn’t involve the removal of your clothes. You wait in suspense as his eyes flit down to the card in his hand, then back up to your face.

“I prefer to fuck in my own bed,” he says bluntly.

A wave crashes in your stomach, rushing down into your core, the sensation so strong and unexpected that your knees almost buckle. This isn’t the first time one of your work trips has ended in you going home with a surgeon, but the way this one doesn’t try to feign the ‘nice guy’, doesn’t pretend to want anything more from you than your body, that’s new.

“Unless I’m on vacation, of course,” he adds with a cocky smile.

“Of course…”

He flips the card over and plucks the pen from your hand. You watch as he scribbles on it and hands it back to you.

“So this is where I’ll be tonight,” he says. “You said eight works for you?”

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek, unsure if you’ve ever met anyone as imperious as this. You slip the card into your pocket and move to walk past him, stopping as your shoulders brush and looking up at him.

“I hope your dick is as inflated as your ego.”

He smirks to himself, remaining quiet as you continue to walk away.

Your skirt is riding up your backside. You reach back to yank it down for the hundredth time before pressing the buzzer on the wall of the apartment building. The setting sun is just a glow beneath the horizon but the streets are still busy, the air warm with a pleasant breeze. You lean back to stare up at the building, the mirrored windows stretching so high you can’t see an end to them. You wonder which one is his.

There’s a scratching sound on the intercom, followed by a deep voice. “Yeah?”

“It’s me,” you say, glancing over your shoulders as if you’re on some kind of secret mission, scared of being seen.

He doesn’t speak again, instead there’s a quick buzz followed by the click of the heavy front door. You let yourself inside, heels clacking against the glossy marble floor as you hurry towards the elevators. When the doors slide open, you pull out your business card, punch in the floor number he’d scrawled in the bottom corner. It begins to ascend, making your already swirling stomach turn.

You pull down the back of your skirt again as you step out into the hall, peering down the length of it in search of his apartment. The door is tall and wide, dark timber and a heavy metallic handle. You knock but your knuckles barely make a sound, the dense wood swallowing the echo.

Still, he comes. You regard him quietly as you step inside, the snug sweater and tailored jeans, a pair of sneakers making you feel entirely overdressed. He’s already grinning; a smug, confident smile that reignites the ire in your chest. You ignore him and walk further in, eyes wide in awe at the vast, industrial space.

You walk over to the window that stretches the length of the apartment, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, framing a perfect snapshot of the city.

“Now I understand why you make the women come to you,” you say.

“Hm?”

“This place. It’s impressive.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “That’s the point, right? You like to impress. To show off.”

He laughs quietly and makes his way to the kitchen area, opening the extensive liquor cabinet. “You want something to drink?”

“I have rules,” you say abruptly, turning around to face him from across the echoey room.

He straightens. “Go on…”

“Nothing that happens here can be used for any type of professional leverage, good or bad, by either of us.”

“Of course-”

“This isn’t a date. I don’t spend the night, I don’t keep in touch, I don’t call when I’m back in town so we can do this again. This is just tonight. And it’s just sex. Understood?”

“Understood.” He returns to the cabinet and takes out a bottle. “So, about that drink…”

You’re already gone, wandering off through a door at the rear of the apartment in search of the bedroom.

You find it. It’s a dark, cave-like space, large curtains draped across another huge window, only the faintest glow of the sunset fighting through the fabric. It’s clinical, just as you’d expect from a surgeon; sleek furniture void of any clutter or knick knacks, exposed brick walls with the occasional piece of art - no photographs. There’s a full length mirror, a small couch, and a bed so large you could sink into it and disappear. You wonder just how many women have delved beneath those sheets before you.

He appears in the doorway, looking you up and down. “You’re eager, little one,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, watching as he closes the door behind him and approaches you. You reach up to touch him, to kiss him, but instead he takes your wrists in his hands and lowers them back to your sides.

“Mm, not yet.”

You scoff in dispute, eyes following him as he strolls across the room and switches on the wall sconces, illuminating the area above the bed in a dim, warm light.

“Look,” you say. “If you’re just going to mess with me then-”

“Well actually, after you left the hospital this afternoon, I got called to consult on a patient and ended up having to stay late. I just got home around fifteen minutes before you knocked on my door. So if you don’t mind, I would like to take a shower first. Is that alright with you?” he finishes sarcastically.

You settle down, composing yourself and relaxing your shoulders. “Of course.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

He pushes open a door to the right and you catch a glimpse of the luxurious, marbled master bathroom as he steps inside. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone again. You stand there for a moment, listening to him whistling to himself, his belt buckle unfastening and hitting the floor. Water bursts from the shower, the sound like soft static, and you immediately rush over to the mirror.

You examine yourself carefully; fix your hair, press your nose to your skin and clothes, shift your underwear so it sits smoothly and undetectable beneath your skirt. Then you sit down at the foot of the bed, knee bouncing impatiently. You change your mind shortly after, moving to the small couch opposite the bed instead.

Ten minutes or so pass, but it feels like an eternity. You picture him drawing it out on purpose, working the lather into his skin one section at a time, scrubbing at his hair for much longer than necessary, just to make you sweat. The water shuts off and you listen to him singing to himself, the hum of his voice through the door. When the door finally opens, steam escapes into the bedroom, the rich smell of citrus and cedar filling the air as he walks out, still humming quietly.

You glance over at him, mouth falling open slightly to find him completely naked, your gaze falling immediately to the pronounced length hanging from his body as he pads across the room. You look away quickly, rolling your eyes and huffing with indignation. Of course he’s naked, you think, he likes to spar, and you’ve willingly stepped into the ring.

Droplets sit on his shoulders and roll down his torso as he moves around the bed. He climbs on and lays down right in the middle, hands resting behind his head, propped up slightly on the headboard. His hair is still damp, half-coiffed, the grey at his temples darker than it was before. His body is solid, the mystery beneath the scrubs now revealed to you in all its glory. His arms are thick as they flex either side of his head, divots of muscle creating shadows across his torso, cock resting proudly on his thigh as he parts his legs in wait. He’s exquisite, and you can’t help but bask in the sight.

“So,” he says casually. “Are you just going to stay over there looking at me? Or are you going to come and sit on my face?”

You glare at him, unamused.

“What?” he shrugs gently. “You’re the one that said this was strictly sex. Forgive me for abiding by your rules.”

“There’s a word for that, you know,” you reply. “Malicious compliance.”

“Mm, is it really malicious if I’m offering to eat you out?”

“Depends how good you are at it.”

“Come here and find out.” There’s no humour in his tone, but it’s still playful, like he’s goading you.

You stand up and take a step towards the bed.

“Clothes,” he demands.

You stop, pressing your lips together tightly. His eyes never leave you, remaining locked on yours as you kick off your shoes and untuck your top from the waistband of your skirt.

“They should study you,” you say.

“Study me?”

“Yeah.” You lift your top over your head and throw it to the floor, reaching down to unzip your skirt. “Look into how one singular person could possibly be such an ass.”

“Clearly there’s a part of you that likes it, y’know, since you’re here… taking your clothes off for me.”

“What can I say? I’m partial to a surgeon. Think it’s the hands.”

The skirt pools at your feet and you step out of it, extending your arms as if to say ‘ta da’. He smiles.

No one has ever looked at you like this. So intense, like he’s studying every inch; relishing in every freckle and blemish, every curve and crease, mapping out the places he plans to touch, taste, explore.

You continue towards him but he raises his palm, halting you again. “You haven’t finished,” he says.

You glance down at yourself, then back up to him, letting out a grumbling sigh as you reach behind you to unclasp your bra. It pops open, the release of pressure on your skin as soothing as a deep breath. His gaze darkens as you slide the straps off your shoulders, watching your nipples harden as you reveal your bare breasts to him.

“These too?” you ask, hooking your thumbs into the waistline of your underwear.

“Mhm.”

You take them off as gracefully as you can, shimmying them over your hips and thighs and kicking them away. His cock is hardening, swelling and rising towards his stomach. Your mouth twitches with a triumphant smile, but you suppress it as you climb onto the bed, crawling up to meet him.

You lean down and press your lips to his, feeling your skin prick, arousal kindling in your core. His mouth is smart, but it’s also divine. The feeling intensifies, spreading through your belly and pounding between your legs as you sweep your tongue into his open mouth, feel his restraint wavering as your hot breaths mingle. You let your chest press against his, the feeling of skin on skin making you burn with need.

You bring a hand up to his face, he brings his to your throat, bracketing it gently and peeling his mouth from yours.

“I didn’t tell you to kiss me,” he says quietly. “I told you to sit on my face.”

You pull back a little more, making eye contact, breathless as a million comebacks shutter through your mind. But in the end you say nothing, letting out a soft huff and slowly shifting your body up the bed.

You hold the top of the extravagant headboard with both hands and swing one leg over him, straddling his shoulders as his fingers reach up behind you to the small of your back. His touch is electric, lips searing as they plant a kiss on your inner thigh. A soft whimper escapes you in a breath, as though anticipation is its own foreplay.

He wraps his arms around the backs of your thighs and pulls you down onto his mouth. Your grip tightens on the headboard, fingernails digging into the soft, cushiony fabric as he parts his lips against your centre, sucking softly on your already throbbing clit. Your head falls back when his tongue drags up the length of your slit, moulding itself to every pucker and groove, lapping you up like he adores you, and you wonder how many women have fallen for him in these moments.

You groan quietly, closing your eyes as you focus on the flicks and strokes of his tongue, the sucking and swirling, the hums deep in his throat and he devours you. Your clit is sensitive, making you shudder, the pleasure so intense you can barely stand it. Your body raises up instinctively, but he tightens his hold on you, spitting on your clit and returning his mouth to the place that both aches and sings, somehow at the same time.

You gasp in response, eyelids fluttering as you swear under your breath. He releases one of your thighs and you glance over your shoulder to see his hand wrapping around his cock. He begins to stroke it forcefully, working himself to the rhythm of his mouth, and you almost fall to pieces.

“Oh my god,” you moan, slumping forward and pressing your forehead to the headboard.

Your thighs clamp around his head, but it only spurs him on, making him bury his face deeper, and you can’t remember the last time he came up for air.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

The nerves in your clit are screaming, dancing on the precipice between pain and pleasure. He continues to lap at your centre, pushing you to the edge until you’re clinging on for dear life. Pressure swells in your core, flooding you with a tingling heat that softens your bones and turns you to liquid. Until finally you’re there, falling, melting.

He growls as your body begins to shake, working his tongue over you one last time before releasing you from his grasp. You collapse next to him, sliding down the pillows until you’re lying at his side. You’re breathless, chest rising and falling heavily as you stare up at the ceiling.

He rolls onto his side to face you. “You’re quiet when you come,” he says, placing a kiss into the crook of your neck, another at the dip of your collarbone.

“I’ve spent the past two years practically living in hotel rooms,” you reply. “I’ve learned to be inconspicuous.”

“Hm.” He props himself up on his forearm and leans over you, his other hand trailing softly down the side of your body. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

Before you can reply, he’s kissing you. His mouth is slick, it tastes of you. Your body is spent, limbs heavy, yet still you find it responding to his touch. He shifts further onto you, spreading your legs with his hands and settling himself between them. You can feel his cock nudging your centre as he rocks his hips, sliding along the soaking wet mess he left there and brushing his head over your clit. It’s sensitive, raw, makes you gasp. But he swallows the sound with a heady kiss.

He’s big. Thick. Hard. Maybe that’s where he stores his arrogance. He continues to tease you, soaking himself in the mix of spit and slick as he wraps his hands around your neck, kisses you so deeply you can feel him drawing a moan from your throat.

He pulls away and looks down at you for a moment. “Condom?” he asks casually.

You’re on the pill. Have been since you were seventeen. But still, you know you should say yes. Yesterday, this man was a stranger; a face you only knew from TV and the medical articles you’d read.

“No.” You shake your head and reach down, gripping his cock and directing it into you.

He chuckles, the sound deep and low. “What a good girl.”

You sigh as he teases at your entrance, pushing the head of his cock in and out but never breaking all the way through.

“Were you thinking about this today in the meeting?” he taunts softly.

You groan and buck your hips, desperate for him to take you.

He eases back slightly and tuts. “I saw you squirming in your seat. How hot and flustered you got when I looked at you. Tell me how much you wanted this.”

“What I wanted,” you begin quietly. “Was to wring your neck.”

The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. “Really…”

“Really.”

He squeezes his fingers gently around your throat and you exhale softly. The desire is almost painful, your core throbbing, pussy aching.

“Funny how things work out,” he says.

You let out a stifled moan as he sinks into you, filling you so completely you’re certain you can’t take it.

“That’s it,” he mutters as he looks down, watching his cock disappear all the way to the hilt.

You whimper and tighten around him. He sucks the air in through his teeth, returning his gaze to your eyes with a mischievous smile.

“I’m gonna need you to not do that,” he says. “You’ll have me finishing in seconds.”

“Are you telling me the great Doctor Stephen Strange lacks self discipline?” You contract your walls again, this time on purpose.

He bows, forehead resting on your chest, and growls deep in the back of his throat. Then suddenly, without warning, he draws his hips back and buries himself in you again. You gasp, fingers digging into the blades of his shoulders as he repeats his thrusts, building to a firm, steady rhythm.

A small cry escapes you; a sound you’ve never heard yourself make before. He hums in response, keeping you pinned to the bed with his hands around your neck as he snaps his hips, punishing you from the inside out.

“Wrap those legs around my back,” he demands.

You do as you’re told, locking your ankles and gasping as he sinks further, the head of his cock kissing the deepest parts of you and sending jolts of pure electricity through your stomach.

“You’re going to break me,” you whisper.

“Not this time. Maybe later,” he replies, still so arrogant it makes you want to reach up and slap him.

But your hands are stuck to his back, nails digging into the smooth, taut flesh. Another unfamiliar sound falls from your lips, somewhere between a grunt and a hum. He likes it, you can tell in the way he closes his eyes to compose himself.

“Jesus,” he hisses.

His movements begin to stutter and he rests his forehead against yours. You feel his cock throbbing, your pussy growing wetter until it’s dripping. He lets out a long, satisfied groan and begins to slow down, every rock of his hips like the promise of another climax.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper desperately. “Please don’t stop, I’m so close.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but still he obliges; continuing to stroke into you as you squirm beneath him.

“Oh god,” you groan. “Harder. I need- harder.”

He grunts, screwing his eyes shut tightly, and begins pounding his cock into you with such force you can feel your body shifting up the mattress. You know he already came, you know how sensitive he must be. But somehow, knowing that makes this all the more delicious.

The electricity builds again, every thrust like a lightning strike through your core. Your legs begin to shake and you finally let go, giving in to the current and letting it course through you. Your orgasm is intense, sharp and tingly, making you shudder, body stiffening until it passes.

He slows to a stop, resting his full weight on top of you. You welcome the pressure, like a weighted blanket; warm and grounding, soothing the ache beginning to settle in your limbs.

After a few moments, he slides out of you carefully, rolling over to lie at your side. “You want that drink now?” he asks.

Hair sticks to your forehead with sweat, you brush it back, sucking in deep breaths as you stare up at the ceiling. “No, I’m good.”

Silence envelops you, neither one of you speaking again until your hearts stop thumping.

“So… I guess this means you’re going to approve the training for my method,” he says.

You turn your head, glaring at him in stunned silence.

“I’m kidding,” he says with a smile, greatly amusing himself.

“God, surgeons are assholes,” you mutter.

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bokettochild · 1 year

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Blupee Bait

Been thinking about @sraksha's blupee artworks with Legend and.... well, y'all know me at this point.

If it's cute Legend stuff, I can't say no.

“Wild, give it a rest,”

The champion scowls, but drops his bow for not the third time that day. “I swear I saw something.”

“Like what?” Legend grumbles, not bothering to glance up at his fellow hero as he follows along behind him, “a squirrel? Kid, we’re in a forest, there’s animals everywhere.”

“An’ ya don’t need to hunt ‘em all.” Twilight scolds, glancing over his shoulder at the champion.

Said champion grumbles, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have grounds to. Wild’s been known to shoot down near anything he can in preparation for any time where they have neither time or prey to hunt. It’s a fair practice, on some fronts. As someone who’s seen what the road looks like with an empty belly, empty bag, and no prospects of hunting, Legend can appreciate the champion’s incessant need to restock on his provisions. That said though, he’s not sure they can even store anything else, what with how good hunting has been as of late. Not that Twilight had liked that to begin with, but food is food, and whether or not one knows what it’s like to stand at the other end of the arrow or not, be hunted and chased, he doesn’t see any reason to back the rancher up with his attempts at dissuading the cook from his craft. They are nine men and boys with hearty appetites after all; meat will fill them far faster than anything else, and realistically speaking, takes far less time to gather a fair portion of.

Even so, Wild’s bow has hardly left his hand since they’d come to his world through the portal, and they’re supposedly coming wthin bounds of one or another of this era’s stables, where monsters aren’t such a threat that that would be needed. The teen's behaviours are setting him ill at ease, and he’s already uncommonly snappish as of late, even for himself.

He’s not sure why, but there’s some part of him screaming at him every time he isn’t actively trying to keep them all alive and together, and he’s yet to determine what it is because he’s so busy trying to block out it and all other pains and pressing annoyances in favor of focusing on IT. He can’t name what IT might be, but he’s felt the eyes on him for days now. Wild’s drawing and staring at the air only adds to his unease, but as the champion has yet to see or shoot or even strike anything, much less some stalker or enemy, he’s not sure what to make of it. Maybe his mind is really giving out on him after all these years, as Ravio worries. Maybe he really is going insane or becoming paranoid. It could just be birds, just something innocent and harmless. He’s bright red after all, rather eye catching in comparison to his brothers, saving Four, who is of course all the more so and not for the right reasons.

Heavens above, if Styla could meet the smithy, she’d faint dead away at his jesterly fashion sense.

Not that anybody in the group fits the princess’ standards, but he’ll digress; he’s not exactly blending in with everything right now.

Still, even birds look away after long enough. Yet that shiver, the creeping feeling of eyes on him has him glancing back warily despite himself, and only further encouraging Wild’s excessive staring into the trees.

There is something there, something watching.

It’s not harmful. He’s not sure how he knows that, but he does. It’s no enemy or monster, although the sense of power that radiates to him from the trees where nothing can be seen would indicate that he really should register it as far more of a threat. Most times it’s consistent, a thrum of magic seeping towards him. Other times though, mostly when Wild is too busy to stare back and draw his bow, there has been Something Else, and It’s magic, when It comes, comes in a surge that will make him stumble, will make his legs feel weak and his mind cloud for a moment that spikes panic even despite the overwhelming sense of peace that seems to call to him from the forest.

Legend has never been one to stray from the path, but there is some part of him all but demanding he do so now, and only a wavering sense of self control, mixed with an influx of anxious “what ifs” has kept him from bending to that impulse.

It can only hold so very much longer though. He’s tired. Of fighting, of pain, of the sense of wrongness he feels in his own skin; the urge to claw and tear and hiss at the way it fits over his frame, how it feels, how his clothes feel and his boots and his jewelry. It’s all too much and not enough, and mixed with the aches of battle, the aches caused by cold and the aching in his joints, his hands, his shoulders; it’s altogether exhausting. He’s not sure how much longer he’ll last before his mind crumbles, and he’ll give into whatever impulse promises some sense of relief or release from the wrongness and pain that surrounds and overwhelms him.

Not that he can express that, but...

Legend shakes his head, both in hopes of dismissing the thoughts but also to dislodge the feeling of eyes following, watching, waiting.

The small red one is not well.

They’d noticed when the flare of magic in the air had spiked, drawing the attention of all of them, and even The Lord to come and to see what had caused such an influx in an otherwise magic-drained land. Eight strangers, eight figures with burning souls had been their answer, accompanied by the all too familiar sight of the Boy that wanders this land.

He’s an odd one, that Boy. The tree folk care for him, fawn over him and welcome him. The Great Tree speaks of him with fondness and warmth. He is blessed by the hands of the fairies whose blossoms lay throughout the land. Magic seeps from him as water from a cracked vessel, yet never does he employ it’s power. He is blessed and beloved by the Wilds and the all that they include, saving of course themselves.

Despite the Great Tree's assurance that he is harmless, Their Lord bids them be wary, and the arrows that fly at them from the Boy are a reminder to obey such a command.

Now though, despite the drawing of the bow and the flying of arrows, they follow close by, regardless of orders given.

They cannot help it; there is a Kit with the Boy.

He is, by sight, a hylian like the Boy and the others whose souls sing with goddess blessed fire, but his soul, like the Boy, whispers of some Otherness that is not found in the hylian people who wander and live throughout this land. Where in others there is an emptiness, in these nine there is an Other-ness, a sense of something beneath, hiding claws and teeth and snapping jaws, which exists in these that travel through roads, bramble and plains.

There are wolves here. A dragon. There are teeth and sharpness, danger and power. Yet, in the midst of it all, a kit wanders behind, soul flickering, weak, magic pulsing and screaming for aid, for relief. Where they burn, he flickers, magic burning out, flame low, ready to burn it’s last.

They cannot have that.

The Boy and his companions do not see it, must not, for if they could, no doubt they ought to be about fixing it and offering aid, but they do not. No, they are blind and stupid as most of their kind are, seeing only what is before their eyes and not reaching out with their burning souls to sense that about them for what it is beneath its pretty form and face. They do not sense, and will not try, and as such the kit’s soul flickers further.

It cannot stand.

So, since the strange ones do not see, will not act, and stand about blind, they will follow. They follow, watching, waiting. There must come a time, they reason, that the Boy will lower his guard, will stop shooting and watching and looking long enough that they can catch the kit’s eye and draw him away. It should only take the smallest effort; him being young, his curiosity will take him before he knows what he does, and they can lead away and to safety. The Lord has no knowledge of their plan, despite his coming the once to see what it is that keeps them from returning to him, but they have little doubt that he will accept the kit.

Kits are very rare, after all, and such a curious one as this is most uncommon. He is neither their kind nor not. He is magic, but not in the same strain. He is almost kin, but not quite; a distortion of themselves like light caught between a dozen dewdrops to scatter brilliant in colors that otherwise will not make themselves known.

He is beautiful.

The Lord will love him, they are sure. They only need make him look and see, rather than turn his many wondrous eyes to these strange anomalies and simply bid them be wary and away.

Yes, they are disobeying his order, but if this sick and troubled kit is brought to him, he will understand why. He would want them to help, if he knew, and so they will do their all to offer aid.

They just need the Boy to stop lingering so close and shooting at them.

It takes days before he does.

They’re watching when the gathering of strangers settles in the shelter made in Malanya’s image. The Boy’s first actions are to turn his attentions to the pot of fire and start working. The two wolves stray away towards Malanya’s children, the dragon helping the smaller ones settle within the shelter. The kit goes with but strays out not long after.

His eyes are glassy, weariness seeping from him. The shield of magic that has held in defense around those in his gathering is now dropped, and the flickering flame within seems to burn ever lower now that it is no longer forced to burn at all. His steps are slow, eyes dragging over the land, cute, pointed little ears turning towards them, as though he knows that they are there, but still his eyes and ears do not catch on them.

Kits are like that; their sense of magic is always stronger than any other they hold.

They spring out and towards him.

It takes only a moment to catch his eye. He watches so keenly, startled and staring. His eyes are like a twilight sky, fixed on blue light and glittering gaze as he is leveled with their stare.

“Holy...”

Not quite, they muse, but nearly there.

They step towards him, an action mirrored by the kit, unthinking and impulsive. Amusement darts through them as they stare, cocking their head on one side, waiting for the next straying step (out of bounds, out of watch from the Boy and the wolves). It only takes a second or two before he is straying closer, and when he does, they turn, darting off and away from the shelter of the hylians, and back towards where they belong.

He calls out, surprised, no doubt, feet stumbling after. When they glance back, stopping, he looks confused, blinking and starting as though unsure why he follows, why he’d called out. They can’t help but thrum with fondness. He’s cute, so clueless and lost.

He’s also unwell though, magic too weak. Had they the skill, they’d settle beside him now and offer their own to strengthen, but pure as they may be, they will not be enough to offer him what he needs. He will be needing others to aid, and The Lord’s blessing would be most helpful as well. They just need to bring him along, tempt him just far enough to be granted what he needs.

It’s not long, or far, Little Kit, just follow after.

He does not, however. He stops, watching them and blinking slowly in confusion, and so they turn back. He starts as they stop before him, stumbles back when they hop close enough to touch, eyes wide and lips parted, gaping down at them as though unsure what it is that he witnesses. Unlike the Boy though, he draws no weapon. Rather, they can feel his magic, weak but curious, reaching out in a question they can’t yet answer, not yet, but if he will follow, he will see.

They nuzzle gently, rub against booted feet, and then, before hands can reach to touch, they dart back the way they came from, pausing at the top of a knoll, turning back and watching.

The kit blinks at them.

Legend has absolutely no clue what is happening. He’d stepped out of the stable to avoid the chatter of the strange merchant that half the group seems to recognize, the man’s voice grating on his nerves, and the incessant chattering about insects only further worsening the problem. His intent had been to settle beneath a tree for a moment’s rest, out of sight, out of mind, and away from judgement from the other heroes.

He did not expect to find himself staring as a blue rabbit appeared out of thin air.

Naturally, his first thoughts had been one of shock, but in seconds a thousand questions were racing about in his head, curiosity pushing him to cautiously make his way towards the creature. Strangely, the thing made its way towards him as well.

It didn’t seem to be scared of him, whatever it was. In fact, the magic that poured off of it, strong and other and... strangely familiar, seemed almost welcoming, in a way he’d never quite encountered.

He couldn’t put a reason to why he’d darted after it when it had started away, or even to why the thing had turned back and hopped along towards him again, brushing gently against his legs before springing back and away, only to pause and look back to him, almost as though waiting. Just the same, he couldn’t put a reason to why he had followed.

It’s the most curious looking thing he’s seen in a while; the face of an owl, but a body not unlike that his own will become when touched with darkness. Stranger still though: it glows. He’s met precious few things that glow, at least by their own power, and most tend to be something to be avoided, but this... this thing, seems to be harmless in nature.

Not that that prevents him wondering after where it’s leading him, or even why. That, however, does not stop him following, despite a very weary voice in his mind warning to not, that he doesn’t know this place or this world, that there is no path to follow and he’s alone now, without the others.

He should at least tell them where he is, right?

But if he turns back now, he’ll lose the strange creature, and if there’s one thing six adventures have taught him, it’s that finding and following the thing all over again will only wear further on what precious little patience he still has left in him. Not only that, but he can’t even guarantee that he will find such a thing again, or that it will approach him so openly. He’s certainly never seen one before, in this world or any other, and for it to appear now...

It’s just got to be something important, and he can’t lose it, can’t let whatever this is slip through his fingers, not if it could offer some further step in their newest quest, some promise or item or guidance they may need! So, he follows, darting and running after the little creature that pauses every so often to turn back and make sure he’s still following. He follows it away from the stable and towards what, he doesn’t know, curiosity flooding through him.

The others will understand why he left, right?

The kit is slow.

It’s a long process, darting along only to have to stop every few steps and let him catch up. He’s not stumbling over much, but the poor thing lacks their usual speed, and likely as not lacks the magic to simply fade to The Lord’s side.

Not that they have any intent of forcing the poor thing to try and cross a river and a field, climb a mountain and only then rest. No, they only need regroup with the others, enough that their combined strength will be enough to take him with when they themselves follow the call of their Lord back to where they belong. He will come with, if their magic is shared, as all kits do, and then at last they can show their Lord what they have found and maybe then provide that light that this weakling kit so desperately needs.

The poor thing starts when another of their kind appears beside them, stumbles when yet another darts up from the ground to spring alongside. He slows altogether when at last there are enough of them, eyes wide and staring as they stand at his feet.

He’s so cute and clueless, they can’t help but chirp at him, watching those odd little ears flicker about and his strange little nose wiggle with confusion.

He will understand soon.

The stop, the others following suit, and thus, so too does the kit. He stands amidst them and stares as they gather around, starts as they turn to him and watch, and only after moments of him standing does he seem to find it in himself to settle down among them, crouching low and reaching out, so curious and clueless and lost.

He’s too cute, honestly.

They dart forwards, letting clever fingers touch and thrumming with pride at the little gasp that stutters from the kit at first contact with downy fluff. Doubt seems to fade, worries abate, as the poor thing reaches out, gently lifting them, which thy only welcome as their companions gather closer. Some climb up, darting and flickering, settling on shoulders and legs and all about, covering the little one in their magic, spreading it one to another until, at last, it is strong enough, and then-

The poor kit starts badly when the world flickers pink, when overhead are blossoms and beneath is water and the dusk that has settled over them in their chase grants light that only pales in comparison to their own. He drops them in his shock, but they hold none of it to him. He is unlikely to know what it is to travel as they do, to flicker from one place to where they ought to be, and it is nothing to them to fall that distance when they are at home and in their own place.

“Where on earth-” the kit Is blinking again, staring, turning about and looking altogether confused. That is alright though; answers will come shortly.

They can feel The Lord. He is not with them, not yet, but his power surges about them, and the water trembles all so subtly as they gather at its edges.

Mayhaps it is that, or maybe the fact that they gather, that has drawn the attention of the kit from his confusion to their pool, but he turns with them, stalking slowly over, cautious but still just as curious as a moment before. No temptation is needed to bring him up alongside of the water only seconds before the Lord emerges.

It’s clear in a moment their Lord knows there is something changed, some presence not their own, yet also not that of the Boy who likes to come here to try and catch them, or the hylians who come to hunt. The Lord turns in moments to seek, to find, and golden eyes meet with twilight as the kit starts and stares, jaw gaped, eyes wide, soul sparking in wonder not expressed, but felt by them all and earning a surge of delight.

They can’t help it; the kit’s wonder is a pleasure to witness.

The Lord like ways seems to think so, cautious in his motion but welcoming as he makes for the kit at the edge of his pool, lowering a great head to stare at eyes that stare back, unblinking. They have done well, he deems, to bring the little one here, and greetings are given as he lets crooked hands rise to touch, solemn and reverent, to bury in his mane.

Pink head-fur is tousled by their Lord, soft little sounds of surprise erupting from the kit, but the greeting of their lord is all that is needed for them and the others to gather.

Magic surges, their lord settling, the kit staring and then....

He stills.

To say that this moment feels like a dream would be to put it lightly.

One moment, he’s chasing the strange blue bunny, the next, he’s standing under a cherry tree, water before him and sky all around. The air is cold here, thick too with some oppressive magic, the same as he’s sensed in the woods, following after him; that of the watching thing.

He has all of a moment to wonder if maybe these strange rabbits were doing the watching, but then his mind is drawn to how they gather at the water’s edge, and so he follows. He’s not expecting the beast that appears in a flicker of light, somehow stranger still than the rabbits; a blue stallion with a mane like a lion and two faces, both that of owls. It glows with ethereal light, magic pouring from it in thick waves that have his legs giving out beneath him. If they hadn’t though, the overwhelming urge to kneel in reverence to this great beast would have brought him to his knees regardless.

It’s eyes, all four of them, are fixed on him, it's hooves turning his way, gaze fixed, eyes heavy. It’s hard to do anything save meet the gaze, even as warmth floods over him as the thing bows its head to be level with his own, eyes meeting and holding for a precious second before closing.

Some treacherous part of him dares lift his hand to touch, to feel. His curiosity wins over common sense, but the thing does not stir as he grips its mane. In fact, it holds perfectly still, and it is instead he who is shaken. Magic pours over him like wave, overwhelming yet also...

Peace.

Pain, exhaustion, weariness and worry all fade into something drowsy and subdued. The thoughts that spin without end in his mind slow to something quiet, controlled, relaxed even. He finds himself lifting his hands to drag again through long, impossibly soft hair, the great eyes of the thing opening once more as it leans closer, face touching his own in a gesture he feels ought to mean something, ought to be important, ought to strike something in his mind, some familiarity or feeling, but all he can register is peace, eyes fluttering shut as small bodies press close to his own, climbing over him.

It’s like being drugged, in a peaceful, gentle sort of way. A floating sort of feeling that takes over him and leaves him settling on the shore, unsure when he finds himself lying amidst the odd little creatures, but thoroughly delighted as their furry pelts press to sensitive skin, soothing every sensation with delightful fur he only just resists burying his face in, rubbing against and breathing in. He need not even try though, for they gather around eagerly, and though the great beast, their leader (or perhaps parent? creator?) stands aside, watching, it is a benevolent thing; its presence and magic still settled over, safe and warm and overwhelming to the point of tears.

The little rabbit creatures chirp and fuss at the dampness, but the relief, sweet, precious, much longed for and now all so tangible, only makes them flow more freely, a smile touching his face as that incessant voice within at last stills, relief in a way he can’t name granting itself to him and leaving him lying on the earth, at peace for what feels like the first time since his adventures started.

That’s how Wild finds him later. It’s morning by the time that the champion arrives, huffing and frowning, face awash with worry as he rounds some bend in some path that Legend has missed before. It’s all gone though, when the other hero lays eyes on him.

He’d slept well, although he can’t say when he slept and when he woke. The last hours since coming here are simply a blur of warmth, soft fur, and overwhelming feelings of security and peace. It must show, because Wild’s concern flickers into amusement as the other draws near.

The beast, whatever it had been, in now gone. Before leaving, it had come to him again, brushing his face with its own in what felt like some semblance of a farewell, or maybe a blessing. There’s a part of him that feels maybe there was something said, probably was, but he can’t name the language or manner, only that there had been something conveyed, and something which he can only explain as having been warmth and compassion and kindness spoken. Despite the beast’s departure, however, the strange glowing rabbits have remained, and still settle over him, warm and impossibly soft, although often shifting and moving, springing about and playing over and about him, but never straying far, and he’s been content to similarly stay amongst them, simply enjoying their presence.

“There you are,” Wild murmurs, crouching down beside him and smiling a crooked smile, worry fleeing from his gaze to instead be replaced with amusement. “Have a good night?”

He can only hum his agreement.

Wild chuckles, eyes creasing with laugher as they glitter, the same unnatural blue as the other-worldly rabbits. “What, did you get kidnapped by the blupees or something? You usually don’t stray from the path, vet.”

“Blupees?” Somehow, it’s the only thing to make it off his tongue.

The champion huffs another little laugh, brows raising, “your cuddle partners?”

“Oh.”

The smile he’s sent really has no right to be that teasing, but somehow he doesn’t care, only remaining as he is until the champion’s attentions turn to the beasts (blupees) around them. Blue eyes dart over, confusion and wonder in them as he looks from furry critter to dazed hero and back again. There’s a strange sort of hesitation in the way he reaches out, a thing Wild rarely displays, especially towards animals, but the surprise and delight as scarred hands make contact with fur feels important.

“Huh...”

He doesn’t have it in him to really ask, save turning and staring until blue eyes turn to him and a half-smile touches the face of his brother. “They never let me touch them normally, never mind get close.”

“They lured me away and dragged me here.”

Blond hair blows freely as the champion throws his head back, laughter startling the blupees around them. “Really?” his smile is strangely disbelieving as it falls on the creatures, “who would have thought.” And then, drawing back to himself, those blue eyes turn to Legend, smile playful. “Well, the others are pretty worried. You ready to go?”

Bliss still settles into his very bones, peace and a fullness he can’t describe setting every sensation at ease. “No.”

Wild laughs, standing and offering a hand. ”Come on, vet, the others freaked out when we couldn’t find you last night, and they won’t calm down until I bring you back safe.”

It’s in a begrudging manner that he pushes himself off the ground; not set with moss or anything particularly soft, but somehow better than any bed he’s ever had, and accepts the hand offered to him. The blupees scatter as Wild pulls him to his feet, and that unnamed part of him sighs wistfully, mourning the loss of contact.

He’s not sure why, but he can’t help but stare after the creatures as the champion guides him down the mountain.

They do not want to see him go.

He is better now; magic restored, core recharged. The Lord has said his magic was weak from overuse, his soul crying for aid and support they are only too happy to have offered. A night's sleep and their company will have aided him considerably, and his need is no longer great, nor likely existent, now that the day as come, but that does not change that they do not wish for him to go. Still though, the Lord has also warned them, this kit- though it pleased him to have the little one brought to him- cannot stay. He is already belonging with others, and although their kind may be able to meet needs unseen by the anomalies, this kit cannot be taken from what is already his own.

Watching the Boy come for him stirs up upset within them. Unease makes itself known, worry that he will shoot and strike, but instead all he does is smile, sinking down beneath their kit and offering smiles and laughter in the way of hylians, his teeth not a threat but a kindness as hands not yet clawed offer aid to their kit. It is taken, but they can feel the reluctance, and it makes them preen ever so slightly. They have done well, bringing the kit here. They have done well, bringing him aid.

He will depart, and does, wandering off and away, the Boy talking at him and murmuring strange things, even as violet eyes linger, twilight skies lit with stars that last night were absent, watching gold as gold in turn watch twilight.

He will go, but now they know him.

He will be easy to find again, when they want to.

And they will most certainly want to!

#lu legend #lu wild #linked universe #linkeduniverse #blupees #ketto writes

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juliensorelapologist · 2 years

Text

I finished Kleo on Netflix, and her and Sven made me insane so I wrote a little something

Around an hour after their latest fight / murder attempt, she opens her hotel room door to find Sven standing up in front of her. He doesn’t even look scared, just tired.

“I left all my clothes here. And my money.”

“I could kill you right now.”

“Yeah well. So could a lot of people. I discovered there’s a lot more murderous spies running around than you would think.”

She thinks about it. He’s a fucking traitor - and capitalist scum. He doesn’t believe in anything. It would be so easy to close the door in his face, or to shoot him in the head. Except. Well.

She doesn’t say anything, only stands on the side to let him get in.

He doesn’t even grab his jeans, just lays down on the bed. She lays down beside him, letting a centimeter of space between their bodies. Kleo stares at the ceiling.

“Shouldn’t you go back to your wife and your son?”

“I’m not… We’re probably gonna… they don’t need me right now.”

She's not even jealous. She had been so jealous of Andi’s wife, pregnant and happy and normal, for stealing the life that should have been hers. Probably no reason to feel jealous now since being a KGB spy and shooting her kid’s dad in the head had never been in Kleo’s dreams of a cozy life.

“You’re not a really good dad, are you?”

“I… that’s not really fair, yeah! I love my son!”

And you ditched him to run across the world with a murderer. But yes, it probably isn't fair. He is a better father than most parents she knows, at least than the adults in her life. Had her mother been good? Maybe. She had been so sure of it before that damn last meeting. But she could never imagine discarding so easily a child she had once truly loved. So maybe her mom had never loved her, or maybe she had.

The thing about the past is : she can remember the color of a suitcase at a meeting four years ago, and the face of a woman she barely saw in a corridor, but the other things, the important things, or maybe the details feel like they're all the same sometimes. The house she grew up in and the house she learned to kill in and Jorge and Andi whispering “your grand dad is a great man, you know?”, her grand dad’s hand on her shoulder at ten and at twenty and him pointing a gun towards her and Andi’s shooting her and them dead, looking straight into nothing.

The past all feels the same, and it felt like it was never gonna let her go, until it did. Giving up the suitcase had felt freeing, but it had been for nothing. And here she is, aimless, laying on a bed, laying next to someone who embodied everything she despised in the West.

She thinks about the story Ramona told her, about dead women and vengeful sirens, and then she thinks about that one movie she watched with Theo.

“I think I shouldn’t have gotten out of prison.” and then, because it isn’t true, she says “I think I’m dead. Like the ghosts in those Japanese stories.”

Somehow, he gets what she says, which is weird because she doesn’t think he watches the same type of movies Theo watches.

“Like the… the vengeful Geisha.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not. That’s not true. They’re just here for revenge and you. Well you didn’t kill Ramona and you didn’t really want to kill the BND woman, it just… happened.”

He’s pressed on his elbows, surplombing her, his eyes oh so sweet and filled with affection and isn’t that funny? The number of men who looked at her this way before stabbing her in the back?

He struggles with his words a bit more before grabbing her wrist. She holds back the instinct of kicking him in the stomach.

“See? I couldn’t do that to a ghost, yeah? You’re real. You’re real.”

He’s saying it like it’s the most important thing in the world, and maybe it is. A part of her is still angry at him, at everything, kicking and snarling at the world. It’s the part of her that was trained, that’s paranoid, that kept her alive all these years. But she’s not sure what’s the use of a survival instinct now that she doesn’t have anything to survive for, and Sven already betrayed her the only way a guy like him, that throws up when he sees a dead body, ever could, so she puts her head against his chest, and throws an arm across his body and drags him close. He hugs her back, far too comfortable with someone who ran after him with a gun barely an hour before.

She closes her eyes, and breathes deep.

#when you're french and write a fanfic in english for a show only six german people watched #anyways very pleasant watch #called out the alien thing #my friend didn't believe me #said there aren't aliens in historical fiction #I said there would be if writers weren't cowards #and I was right #also I think Sven is bi #that's it. Enjoy #kleo netflix #kleo straub #sven petzold #kleo

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booksforevermore13 · 2 years

Text

Sunshine and Midnight Rain

Summary: When she's 25 and he's 26 and they're missing all the other's moments, they break apart, afraid of the consequence, afraid of what they'd be losing. Now, 5 years later, she wants things to be different. And he wants them too. Angst/Fluff Inspired by Taylor Swift's song, "Midnight Rain" from the Midnights album, as the title wisely said :D

...

My town was a wasteland

Full of cages, full of fences

Pageant queens and big pretenders

But for some, it was paradise

“Must you always drink this much?” Marlene muttered as she packed the bottles into a crate, frowning at a half-sleeping Ginny.

“Yeah,” the latter replied sarcastically, before getting up much hesitantly to help her team-mate, cum best-friend. “I never asked you to help out, you know,” Ginny continued snidely, and Marlene, as though appearing enraged, smacked her on the side of her arm.

“I’ll leave them, will I?”

“I never asked you to do that, either,” Ginny smirked. “And that,” she rubbed her arm tenderly, “was uncalled for.”

It was much justified,” Marlene replied curtly. “How a girl can spend her 30th birthday drinking her way to unconsciousness, I can never understand.”

Ginny stayed silent, and Marlene grabbed her arm, forcing her to look up at her.

“Really, Ginevra, all of us thought we’d go out yesterday, have some food, get our game on, the lot. And here I am today, cleaning up bottles because you spent the entire night drinking yourself to insanity.” Marlene shook her head in disappointment, then wrinkled her nose. “And what even is this?” she exclaimed, bringing a half-finished bottle up to her nose. “This can’t be normal whisky, can it?”

Ginny smirked, grabbing the bottle from her. “It’s not whisky. It’s vodka.”

“Vod-what?”

“Muggle alcohol. It works best.”

“For drowning out your miseries? Really, Ginny-”

Ginny shook her head, silencing Marlene. “Every time we go out, the news gets us on the front page. And by us, I mean me.” She got up, crate in hand. “ ‘Quidditch Star Ginny Weasley, now a professional drunkard.’”

She scoffed, then continued, “Last time we were out, the paper got a picture of me and that freaking bartender, and somehow made it seem as if I was seducing him with my exceptional ‘femme fatale’ skills.”

Marlene got up, then looked at Ginny. “And is that all?”

“Huh?”

“Is that all, Ginny?” Marlene said, with an accusing voice. “Are you really telling me that the tabloids are the reason you didn’t go out with us last night? The reason you haven’t left your house for anything other than quidditch for the last year?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, I think you do. Because I know for a fact, that this,” Marlene gestured at the stray-away bottles in Ginny’s house, “has very little to do with your image in the news.”

Ginny looked away, then walked past Marlene to deposit the heavy crate beside the door. The lights in her house flickered, Ginny realising it had been too long since she had had anybody over to look at the muggle powered lights in her house.

“How long is it going to take for you to get over him?” Marlene pressed on, and Ginny looked over at her angrily.

“Don’t say another word.”

“Is it going to take you destroying yourself to get over a boy?”

“Get out, Marlene,” Ginny snapped.

Marlene looked at her straight in the eyes, then sighed, picking up the bag, and walking towards Ginny. Then, without saying a word, she picked up the crate of bottles, and Apparated.

Ginny gulped, then looked up at the flickering lights of the house.

Maybe it would.

Keep reading

…

My boy was a montage

A slow-motion, love potion

Jumping off things in the ocean

I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

FIVE YEARS AGO

It had been a wonderful match. In fact, one of the best in years. The Harpies had won by a fair number of points, and though the Seeker had done a marvelous job in catching the Snitch, it had been the Chasers who had stolen the show. It had also been Ginny’s first time in the finals of the World Cup. The first one was always the one which kickstarted the player’s career, and she had definitely proved her mettle on the field there.

And though they had a lot of work to do, talking to the reporters, getting ready to hoist the cup, Ginny couldn’t wait to tell Harry.

She’d missed some of his floo messages in the last few days. Between the tension of the match, and Gwenog’s continuous badgering, she had completely forgotten to floo back.

But now, she wanted nothing more than to talk to him.

Ginny pulled off her gloves, passing them off to Marlene before she rushed off into the changing room.

She was breathless when she started the Floo Network, a huge smile on her face as she waited for Harry to show up. Nearly giddy with excitement, she beamed as Harry, or rather, his image showed up in front of her.

Even from the get-go, she knew something had gone wrong.

“We won!” she grinned in glee and Harry smiled back at her, his green eyes sparkling through the floo network.

“I knew you would,” he replied. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”

“That’s alright,” Ginny said. “You had a mission.”

Harry nodded, and Ginny held her breath, waiting for him to say something else.

Something had gone wrong.

“What’s…what's wrong, Harry?” Ginny asked, heart hammering in her chest. In mere minutes, the excitement had dulled down, replaced with nervous-ness.

“Nothing’s wrong, Ginny. I’m just extremely happy for you,” Harry smiled back at her, but even his smile looked strained.

“Don’t do that Harry, just tell me what’s wrong,” Ginny urged, wishing she could reach through the Floo and touch him.

Harry sighed, then looked back at her, his eyes betraying the pain he was in. “The mission,” he relented. “It went horribly wrong.”

Ginny’s heart stilled.

“Some of our team,” Harry’s voice wavered, “died in the cross-fire. It was unexpected, and we received the brunt of it.”

She could have lost him, Ginny realised.

She could have never seen him again.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine Gin,” Harry paused, and Ginny felt relief flood through her.

But it was the hesitation in his voice that told her what was to come. “Gin, there are the….funerals. I don’t think I’ll -”

“You won’t be able to come,” Ginny finished.

Her heart squeezed painfully, and she forcefully fought the lump in her throat.

“That’s okay,” she said. “That’s absolutely fine, Harry.” Ginny said breathlessly. “In fact, I’ll apparate back. The match is over. I can come back now.”

“No, Gin, please. You don’t have to do that. You’ve worked for this for seven years-”

“And I’ve done it, Harry -”

“No.” Harry said, finality in his tone. Ginny gulped, blinking back tears. She could hear her teammates' excited chatter get closer, and it seemed Harry could too.

“I should go,” Harry said. Ginny stayed silent, as he smiled at her one last time before vanishing.

Gwenog burst in, a triumphant look on her face. Behind her, Marlene and Wilda bounded in, stopping in their tracks as they saw Ginny’s expression.

“Your boy's coming?” Gwenog asked, and Ginny’s throat clogged.

“No. He isn’t.”

…

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

He wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

He was waiting for her at the Apparatus Terminal when she opened her eyes. A big smile on his face, sparkling green eyes. Ginny burst into a smile, as she bounded over to him, jumping into his arms.

Harry laughed as the flowers in his hand fell on the ground, and Ginny kissed him. He’d missed her. But what was more, he’d regretted that he’d missed her match. Even more so because he knew how hard she had worked for it. Day in and day out on the Quidditch field, coming back home absolutely knackered, going back the next day again.

She didn’t deserve what had happened nearly a week ago.

When they let go of each other, Ginny kissed him, and Harry smiled against her lips, cherishing the feel of them.

He’d half thought he’d never feel them again.

“Are you okay?” Ginny asked, as they broke apart.

“I’m absolutely fine.” He didn’t like how his mission had taken over her game. He didn’t want that.

After that floo had ended, he’d sworn he’d never let that happen again.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said softly, looking into her brown eyes, as they looked back worriedly.

But then they transformed, and a smile replaced them.

Oh, how he loved that smile.

“Let’s go home.”

Ginny smiled, silent as she slipped her hand into his and they Apparated.

...

It was when he was opening the door to their house did Ginny ask about the mission.

Harry looked away then.

He had been dreading the conversation.

“It was a couple of rogue Death-Eaters. We found them hidden in the outskirts of a Muggle town,” he said. “I’m pretty sure they would have willingly handed themselves over, if -” Harry wavered, looking away from Ginny as she rubbed his forearm comfortingly. “If I hadn’t been there.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, and she cupped his neck, bringing her closer to him. “It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered, and Harry closed his eyes as she rested her forehead against his.

This. This was it. This was what he’d been craving since days. It was pathetic for him, but he had needed this reassurance. That this-this wasn’t his fault.

Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny, and then looked at her. “I’m so sorry I missed the final. I swear… it won’t ever happen again.”

“It is absolutely fine,” Ginny enunciated her words.

“It isn’t, but I’ll make sure it won’t ever happen again.”

It wouldn’t, and he’d made sure of that.

But it didn’t seem to get the response he was looking over. Now that they were in their house, the house that they had found together, Ginny pulled away from him, expecting an answer.

“What do you mean?”

“I asked Kingsley to reduce my workload. There won’t be as many missions as before, and he wasn’t very happy about it, I’m sure, but you have been there for every single important moment of mine, and I haven’t been in -”

“No, Harry,” Ginny interrupted. “You can’t possibly do that.”

Harry looked at her in confusion. He’d expected her to be elated, but it seemed the opposite had happened.

“This is your career that you’re talking about,” Ginny said. “You can’t possibly be throwing away all of that for me.”

“I’m not. Gin, I’m just going to go on fewer missions -”

“But missions are what you love. Fighting on the frontlines is what you chose to do,” Ginny cried.

Above them, the lights flickered, a momentary lapse in power.

“Gin, being with you is also what I chose. And I am happy with this. With you. Maybe in a few years, we can think about settling down. Merlin knows, that would be something a long time coming.”

Harry cupped Ginny’s face, trying to understand the conflicted look on her face.

“I swear, everything’s going to be alright.”

And as Ginny rested her head on his chest, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if what he had said was true.

…

It came like a postcard

Picture perfect, shiny family

Holiday, peppermint candy

But for him it's every day

TODAY'S TIME

Three days till Christmas.

Ginny knew, if she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t ever find the courage to go home in time for it.

She looked up at the still flickering lights in her house. If her mum found out about the way she was living, she’d be horrified. Hell, Ginny herself seemed horrified herself most days.e

Half-finished bottles of whisky near the basin, her clothes lying all over the house, most of them unwashed, and food? She had resorted to eating mostly at pubs, or over at Marlene’s.

Normally, she’d be looking forward to Christmas. But, somehow, this year, she just couldn’t find the will to go to the Burrow and put up that mask of hers, the one where she was happier than most days.

He’d be there too.

Ginny closed her eyes, using her wand to create sparks of golden glitter over her, that disappeared before they fell over her.

She’d known things were going to fall apart the day he’d opted out of that mission. And Tomas had died.

She’d seen his face when Kingsley’s patronus had appeared in the room. Seen his expression.

Ginny gulped down the lump in her throat, taking in a few deep breaths, before clicking her tongue and getting up from the couch.

She couldn’t afford to do this.

She got up, waving her wand to get herself dressed, before picking up her rucksack and heading out the door.

An hour later, she had apparated right in front of the door. Even while outside, she could hear the chatter inside the house. Ron’s voice, her mum yelling. Someone laughing.

Even unconsciously, she felt a smile across her face.

He’d be there, but it’d be okay. It would.

Taking a breath, she muttered the spell Bill had set on the door and walked right in.

Almost instantly, an uproar started.

“Ginevra,” her mom cried out, followed by a chorus of Ginnys, and a lot of footsteps running towards her. The first one was her mum.

Ginny laughed as she was wrapped up in a hug by the shorter woman.

“You’re eleven days late,” her mum was yelling away, and for a second, Ginny just buried her nose in her shoulder, taking in the smell of home. After being promoted to Captain, and Gwenog leaving, a different arena of responsibilities had fallen on her shoulder, and Ginny had struggled throughout the past year, trying to keep the Holyhead Harpies up. She had succeeded, to an extent, but not without being under the scrutiny of the entire Wizarding World, and of course, herself.

But now, after nearly 17 months, she was home again.

The second her mum left her, she was brought into a hug by her Dad and Bill, and then the rest of her brothers followed, each of them ruffling her hair, though she gave Ron a much deserved glare as he went to do so.

“How’s the baby?” she asked Hermione, as Fleur kissed her cheek.

“Rough. She’s started kicking, but it’s not as bad as it had been a few days ago.”

“All babies are like that, my love," Fleur reassured. "I remember, Dominique nearly broke me by all her moving.”

The three women laughed, and Ginny’s eyes travelled among the crowd, as they slowly landed on him.

He was looking right at her.

It had been ages since she had seen those green eyes.

Ginny lowered her eyes in embarrassment, as she felt everybody slowly scurrying out of the room, The fire crackled in the distance as Ginny spared a smile.

“Hey, Harry,” she said softly.

“Hi there, Gin,” his voice ringed in her ears and Ginny couldn’t help but reel at the name he had called her, the name that seemed right only on his lips. His eyes were still as green as ever, but right now, in the soft light of the fireplace, they seemed golden.

His eyes travelled across her face, and Ginny shuffled uncomfortably as his eyebrows furrowed. “How’s everything going?”

“Good, good,” he said.

Ginny nodded. How long had it been since she’d seen him last? Two years? Three? All she remembered was that the last time they had met, she’d been so utterly devastated, that she had retreated to the closures of her house, and not come out for nearly a week, before Gwenog and Marlene dragged her out.

She didn’t even think she deserved to pine after him. Not when she had been the one to end things.

Irony, she’d fallen in love first, and she’d been the first one to let go.

But right now, him in front of her, she couldn’t help but think that only if they had tried harder, if she’d just held on longer, then this wouldn’t be it. This wouldn’t be the life she’d be leading. One submerged in loneliness, one where her job had become her one and only ultimatum in life.

She could have had a different life with him. A different world.

It was too late to think like that. And it seemed pretty pathetic on her part.

Ginny snapped out of her reverie as Harry called out her name.

“Yeah,” she answered breathlessly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she repeated. “Completely fine.”

…

So I peered through a window

A deep portal, time travel

All the love we unravel

And the life I gave away

She couldn’t sleep. It was torture, because she was exhausted. She had nearly dozed off during dinner, before being sent up to bed by her mother. It took her back to her younger days. When sleep came easy.

It seemed the moment she landed on her bed, all her sleep vanished in an instant.

Frustrated, she slipped out of bed, carefully, without noise, climbing her way down the stairs. If she had been back at home, she would promptly take a sleep potion, and that would have made things easier. Here, not so much.

Ginny paused by the Christmas tree as she was making her way out the door. After Victoire and Dominique had learned how to walk, they’d resorted to tying the ornaments on the top portion of the tree, out of their reach and even after they had grown up, things had remained that way. Ginny smiled, reaching above her to touch a small toy horse that her dad had whittled for her when she'd been three.

Her younger self had been absolutely elated.

Thankfully, that feeling hadn't changed.

Ginny drew in a breath, before slowly creeping out of the house.

She stopped when she entered the backyard.

Harry.

Ginny gulped, slowly backing away, her steps quickeing as Harry turned his head.

“Ginny, hey.”

She cursed under her breath, then called out to him, the wind carrying her words to him. “I’m sorry, I was leaving-”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Ginny paused yet again, as Harry continued. “I was only leaving, so you can stay -”

“You don’t have to leave because of me,” Ginny stated. “I’ll join you, if that’s okay.”

Harry nodded, then stepped aside to make room for her beside the pumpkin patch, as Ginny walked towards him.

After the Burrow had gone up in Flames all those years ago, they'd worked hard to rebuild it. She couldn't say that it was better than before. But the view from the backyard was absolutely undeniable.

“Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” she asked as she reached the patio, a small smile on her face.

“When have I been able to?” Harry scoffed.

Ginny frowned, then, as if by habit, she asked. “How long has it been since you last slept?”

“Truthfully, um...last night. Ron and I went out for drinks, and I had a good too many, before I passed out. Woke up right before your mum called us for lunch.”

Ginny laughed, and felt Harry look at her. Under the moonlight, and even with the shadows falling on his face, his eyes shone like the light of day.

The silence between them was welcomed.

“How are things, really?” Harry asked her.

“Rough,” Ginny admitted. “Turns out, being a captain is not all that they tell you.”

“You’ve done a marvelous job though,” Harry replied. “The Harpies have had the most number of victories since the Magpies in the last decade.”

So, he had been keeping track of her. Ginny couldn’t help but smile at that.

“How’s things looking in the Ministry?”

“As they are,” Harry replied, as if by habit. But then, as if thinking over his answer twice, he continued. “Kingsley has things mostly under control, but they tend to get out of hand once or twice.”

Ginny nodded, looking out at the lake glistening in the moonlight. She wondered what to ask next. What do you ask someone who’s heart you had broken not even five years ago?

She cleared her throat, then turned towards Harry. “Anybody you’re, umm…with, nowadays?”

Harry turned to her, his arms hanging effortlessly on the railing. His eyes stood fixed on her face for a few seconds, before answering.

“Do you think so?”

“Uhm..” Ginny cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

“It means no, Gin,” Harry shook his head. “It means I’m not dating anybody.”

“Oh.” Ginny nodded, then turned towards the railing again.

And yet again, they fell into a deafening silence, a silence different that others, the silence that seemed to suffocate her into the same hole she’d led herself to five years ago.

“Would we have worked out if Tomas hadn’t died?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice breaking through the mist and Ginny felt a chill travel through her spine.

She turned towards Harry, her eyes blazing. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, Gin.”

“Are you really asking me that, Harry?”

“Yes,” his voice strained. “I am. Because I have thought about all the things that happened over and over in my head, and I still can’t believe what I did wrong.”

“You did nothing wrong, Harry,” Ginny cried out. How could he think he had done anything wrong when it was her that was the problem?

“Then, tell me, Gin. Speak to me. Tell me what happened that led us to being this way.”

“I don’t know Harry,” Ginny cried out. “You were ready to give up everything just for us, for me, and you think I could have taken it as it is?”

“What was I going to give up?”

“Really, Harry?” Ginny said, agitated. “Because Tomas died, I was able to see how it affected you. How you opting out of missions affected you. He died, and it seemed that you took it all on you.”

Harry shook his head, denying, but Ginny continued.

“You think I don’t know you Harry? The minute that Patronus appeared, you were completely crushed because somehow, you thought that if you had just gone on that mission, he would have lived.”

“That isn't fair. I chose that," Harry said, his voice brimming with something she couldn't recognize. "How many times had it been since we'd had one waking moment with each other? You think I didn't notice the way you hurt with all the times I left you standing with overtime missions and duties?"

"I would have rather you do that than sacrifice doing what you love to be with me."

"That isn't fair."

“It isn’t. My career, it would have led me to be away nine months out of twelve. Yours, the other three. Me sacrificing my career would have led me to destroy myself. You sacrificing it nearly destroyed you.” “And I know,” Ginny’s voice turned heavy, “that maybe if I had bargained with Gwenog, asked her to keep me out of a few matches, then maybe we could have worked something out, but I - “ her voice cracked. “I don’t know why I didn’t do that.”

“You shouldn’t have had to,” Harry said quietly. Ginny couldn't hear the anger within them anymore. He stepped closer to her and raised his hand, his thumb brushing off a stray tear. And just when he was preparing to leave, he paused, and then lightly pressed his lips on Ginny’s forehead.

Ginny closed her eyes, and when she opened them back again after a few minutes, he was gone.

…

He was sunshine, I was midnight rain

He wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

“Did he say when he’ll come back?” Teddy asked Ginny for the third time, and Ginny closed her eyes, her mind straying to the night before the last for what may have been the fiftieth time. Her heart clenched as she shook her head.

“No, Ted, he didn’t tell me anything.”

Teddy frowned, as his hair turned a grimmer shade of blue.

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Teddy whined. Bill looked at Ginny sadly, and then whispered slightly.

“You want me to take him off your arms?” Bill whispered.

“That’s alright. I could do with the company anyway,” Ginny smiled.

With Victoire and Dominique off with their mother and Hermione, Teddy had been rendered horribly alone. Especially when he missed a certain young blonde.

“Then do you mind if I pop out with the guys for a-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ginny waved him off and Bill pecked her cheek gently, ruffling Teddy’s hair before leaving.

Ginny watched as Teddy messed around with a few trinkets, probably from Zonko’s and then rested her head back on the couch. She shut her eyes, blocking out everything around her.

Harry had not been back since that night. He had floo-ed in, so that no one would worry, but everyone knew. Bill and Ron had been especially protective, making sure Ginny didn’t run off too somewhere.

The fire crackled, the heat from it not nearly enough to warm Ginny. She shivered, and as Teddy noticed, he got up, bringing over a blanket for Ginny.

“Thanks,” Ginny smiled as Teddy made herself comfortable beside her.

“I don’t like that the both of you are always so sad during Christmas,” Teddy muttered, and Ginny looked at him in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Harry,” Teddy motioned with his eyebrows, “you know, all that drama.”

Ginny raised an eyebrow, and Teddy huffed. “I’m not a child, you know.”

Somehow, that seemed funny to Ginny, the way he sounded so much like Harry. Her heart clenched as she thought about him, and she shuffled to get warmer.

“Are you still cold?” Teddy asked and Ginny shook her head.

“I’m good.”

Teddy nodded, sinking into deep thought, and Ginny watched as his hair changed into green and then turquoise before turning back into blue. She smiled sadly, her thoughts turning to his mother.

“He still loves you a lot,” Teddy stated suddenly. “More than a lot actually.”

And yet again, Ginny was rendered speechless. Teddy looked at Ginny, and then winced. “I don’t think I was supposed to say that.”

Ginny chuckled weakly, then closed her eyes, reeling from what he’d just said.

“Do you love him?”

Her eyes snapped back open.

“Huh?”

“Do you love him?” Teddy asked again.

“Yeah,” Ginny admitted, albeit breathlessly. “I do. Of course I do. More than I know.”

Teddy nodded, and then, with a triumphant smile on his face, muttered under his breath.

“I knew it.”

…

Rain, he wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed

Like midnight rain.

She watched with bated breath, as the train that would take her to the Apparating Station arrived on the platform. Not a lot had happened since Christmas Eve, but it seemed a long way away now, even though it had been only a week.

Christmas had not even started fully, that the Quidditch Authorities had sent an official letter to all Quidditch Captains and Managers to report to Ireland, or the official Management Quarters with their entire team roster, and details. Apparently, some of them had been using broom enhancement potions in secret to win matches, and now the Authority wanted to review everybody’s position in the roster.

It was bollocks, Ginny had thought personally. The fact that this had happened on Christmas too hadn’t helped matters, and she had chewed off the wizard who had met with her at the Department. It had only led to a stricter review of her team members, but to no avail, as it returned absolutely spotless.

And very well so too. Her team was as good as they came, she had thought angrily.

Now that she was back in London, all she had to do was get on the train and reach the Apparating Station so that she could get back home and sleep.

Merlin knows, she needed that.

As she got up on the train, Ginny thought back to her conversation with Teddy. How a conversation with a teenager wanted to make her try things again, she had no idea, but for a moment there, she had wanted to.

And perhaps, she would have too, when Harry got back. But, that clearly hadn’t happened, and now as she rested her head on her seat bench, opposite to a sleeping Muggle lady, she let herself think what hurt her to the core.

Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

Ginny closed her eyes, letting the train lull her into a sleep.

…

It hadn’t even been half an hour when the train screeched to a stop. Ginny jerked awake, wiping at some stray drool at the corner of her mouth. She smiled briefly at the lady opposite to her, before she hurried out of the train.

It was when she stepped on the platform that she allowed herself to look at her overly-familiar surroundings. After spending nearly her entire life in London, she had grown to become accustomed to it, and now, as her eyes scanned over the crowd filled with Muggles and Wizards, her eyes landed over a pair that were too familiar to be true.

Ginny blinked, then looked away to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

But no, there was no denying it.

It was him.

“Harry,” she said breathlessly, as they both started walking towards each other at the same time.

“Hey, Gin,” he smiled, and Ginny chuckled in surprise.

“Were you waiting for me?”

His eyes told her whatever she wanted to know, so she nodded, avoiding his eyes.

“Uhmm…my house, we can just apparate there from here,” she said, as Harry nodded. “We can go there and talk.”

Ginny felt her heart hammering against her chest, as she motioned him towards the Apartment Compartment, which was basically an Old London telephone booth now.

Without saying a word, Ginny gripped his sleeve, as they both Apparated right in front of their house.

“Come on then,” she said, as she tapped her wand three times against the door to open it.

Harry followed her wordless, and it was not before the door had closed behind them did Ginny utter a word.

“The house is messy, but don’t mind it,” she stated blankly. Then, after mulling it over her head, she hesitantly started, “What do you want to talk about?”

Harry looked straight at her as he started speaking. “Teddy told me,” he stated.

Ginny swallowed, and then looked away from him, afraid to glance into his eyes. Her heart hammered painfully in her chest.

“I thought it would only be right if it was me who told you what my nosy grandson did.”

Ginny chuckled drily, and then looked at Harry, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Harry,” she warned.

“What, Ginny?” he said, as he took a step closer to her. “Am I supposed to deny what Ted told you? Because I can’t do that. Not when every word he said was true.”

“Harry,” Ginny’s voice broke, as Harry stepped even closer. But even with her denial of what was happening at the moment, she couldn’t step back.

“I love you, Gin,” Harry said softly. “Merlin knows, I have loved you since that day in the Common Room, even before that and I don’t think that there is any way or any thing in this world that would stop me from doing so.”

“Harry -”

“No, hear me out, Gin. Please,” Harry begged. “We know all too well that every word you said that night was true, but somehow, I can’t quite comprehend it. Let’s try this, Gin. Let’s try this one more time, because I don’t think I could settle with the world if we didn’t try again.”

Ginny looked up at him, the gap between them becoming increasingly smaller as she stepped closer. Her fingers wrapped around his, as she closed her eyes. She’d spent five years thinking and thinking and thinking yet again about all of this. And she’d decided, that back then, when they had been younger and the world had seemed a bit more conquerable, they had not known what they probably knew all too well now.

That they couldn’t live without each other.

That Ginny couldn’t live without Harry.

“If you don’t want this Gin, tell me now, and I swear to Merlin, I’ll never bring this up again -”

“No,” Ginny said, her voice strong. She cracked a teary smile, and then let her fingers intertwine with his. “I want this, Harry. I want it too.”

She drew in a breath, and then repeated her thoughts, loud and clear. “This time, it’s just going to be you and me against the world Potter. Just us. And nobody else.”

Her voice wobbled, as her eyes filled with tears. She didn't think she'd survive if she lost this man again, and though she was stepping into hellfire at the moment, she hoped it would be worth it.

And as Harry looked at her with those clear green eyes, as he brought her face closer and captured her lips in a kiss, she let herself be drowned in that bliss she'd denied herself for so many years. And after years of being apart, those lips felt like home.

Just them against the world.

And as they pulled apart, and Ginny looked into the eyes of the man she had loved and missed for so long, a smile broke on her face, a bright smile; a smile that she herself had missed for so long.

“Remind me to thank Teddy for this,” she chuckled, and Harry joined her, leaning their foreheads against each other, his arms around her waist, hers around his.

“I will,” he said, finally.

And Ginny laughed.

21 notes · View notes

nocturnalghoul · 1 year

Text

Mushy May Day 21: Body Worship

A little conspiracy among the ghouls to give Cumulus and Aether a little extra love from the ghouls they get to see the least.

Hi welcome to what is only technically body worship but is definitely still mushy so Im still therefore on theme :D . I’m so good at only halfway following prompts lol! Also I might continue this another time with all the other ghouls getting a turn after end of Mushy May catch up, but I also might forget about it completely… only time will tell I guess :)

Words: 1017

Rating: T? (there are literally like two mentions of nudity and besides that its pretty pg)

Read below the cut or on AO3 here

Dew and Sunny had actually been the ones to think of the idea. The ghouls all typically drifted between each other anyways but certain ghouls tended to end up together more than others. The two spent over a week organizing a night for Aether and Cumulus in particular to get some undivided attention from the few ghouls they ended up with a little less often than others.

~~~~

Cumulus:

She had followed the water ghoul to his room easily enough. When he had batted those pretty little eyelashes and asked slyly for her help with a project she immediately dropped the craft she was working on and followed. They passed a concerned looking Aether on the way, but she hadn’t thought anything of it.

As she sat down on Rain’s bed listening to him and Dew explain the surprise plan for the evening she could feel her cheeks warming up.

“Aw, that is such a sweet idea firefly. You don’t have to do all that for little ol’ me tho.” she tells them, dropping closer to a whisper at the end.

“Maybe not ‘Lus, but we wanted to. You are more than worth it” Dew retorts, moving to sit down beside her.

“Besides, it's only fair that Mountain and the girls share a beautiful creature such as yourself every once in a while, doll” Swiss reassures her, reaching out one hand to run lazily through her curls.

The way the three ghouls are looking at her like she is the most important thing they have ever laid eyes on is dizzying. Cumulus relents to the expressions of love, finally laying back against the bed after letting them take their time undressing her. The looks on their faces are like opening a long awaited present.

For a while Rain lays tracing each stretch mark along her body with his fingers, hard calloused against soft flesh. Every once in a while he stops to press a kiss to whichever mark he just finished with followed by another declaration of her beauty. Cumulus thinks to herself that the bastard has been spending so much time with Mountain recently he has gotten almost too good at poetic prose.

Swiss lay at the foot of the bed massaging up and down her legs, going on and on about the shape of her calves and thighs. Their strength beneath the skin, the smooth feel of her skin, the shapeliness “that the finest sculptor could never in a hundred years be able to so perfectly replicate” he claims.

Dew shifted at some point while the other two began to sit behind her. He pulls her head into his lap, leaning down to press the barest brush of his lips against hers. With an agonizingly slow pace he continues to deepen the kiss. When all of the physical sensation seems to become too much for her, he switches to pressing his lips right against her ear and whispering all the plethora of things that she knows he feels, but normally cannot bring himself to say aloud. His hair falls down in front of both of their faces, partially shielding them both from the rest of the world around them. The only thing keeping Cumulus tethered is the continued sensations of Rain and Swiss farther down the bed.

The remainder of the night is a whirlwind of light reverant touches, slow and sweet, with even more saccharine words as Dew, Rain, and Swiss give their best to show her the devotion she deserves.

~~~~

Aether:

Cirrus simply walked up to Aether with a quick “meet me in Sunny’s room in 10 minutes” before walking away. Immediately he is hit with a wave of concern, but the time delay seems odd and like it must not be urgent. As he makes his way down the hall, trying to not to overthink everything he almost bumps into Rain dragging Cumulus behind him, but decides he will have to figure out whatever is going on there later.

He knocks lightly on Sunshine’s door, and the ghoulette not even a second later throws it open dragging him inside with a fierce giggle. As he is led towards the soft yellow and orange bedspread, she rambles quickly about her and Dew’s plan. He sees Mountain seated at the head of the bed, long legs spread out and head resting lazily against the wall with a warm smile.

“That is very sweet of you two, Sunbeam. However, I’m not sure all the fuss over me is needed, I can see you guys anytime.” Aether attempts to deflect, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“Maybe you can see us anytime, but I feel like I so rarely get to truly see you and all you have to offer, Starlight. Come on, let us do this for you. We all are super excited” Cirrus purrs into his ear from behind him, running one hand slowly up his side. Aether only manages to let out a quick sign and a nod before the two ghoulettes start slowly liberating him of his clothing, stopping to pepper kisses to his skin with every action.

Mountain makes a small come here motion and Aether climbs in between his outspread legs and into his arms. A low rumbling purr builds up inside Mountain’s chest as he pulls Aether closer, encouraging the ghoul to relax into him.

He curls himself around Aether like vines wrapping around a trellis, creeping yet deliberate. Mountain is truly the one ghoul that can always make him feel small, a fact that while Aether never voices, is still extremely appreciated.

The combination of Mountain’s grounding presence and the fire he feels inside him with each exploratory touch or declaration of adoration from the ghoulettes is enough to drive him mad. He tries his best to stay present in the moment. They may have all night, but already Aether can tell that even with infinite time the three of them would never tire of this or run out of sweet things to say. They certainly can try to do so with the night ahead of them though.

#if you see mistakes in this no you don't!#mushy may #nocturnal writings #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #nocturnal mushy may #aether ghoul #cumulus ghoulette

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camaro-and-smokes · 1 year

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The Letter

Rating: Mature Warning: Major Character Death Category: M/M Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Relationship: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Characters: Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Additional Tags: Harringrove, Heavy Angst, I mean seriously heavy, Mentions of Death

Notes: This is my 9th and final entry to the @harringroveson-bingo 2022-2023 square A1: What could've been. NOTE! This fic has an overall theme that some might find disturbing. If you choose to read, make sure you have tissues. Because I cried my eyes off when I wrote this.

Summary: The fact that the letter needed to be written in the first place was the worst.

::::::::::

Billy,

Steve looked at the name on the paper. How it smudged when his tear fell on the ink that hadn’t yet dried in full. He let out a frustrated scream and crushed the paper, chucking it onto the floor with other crumbled papers that covered the big part of the room’s floor.

He leaned onto the table and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, and took a deep breath to keep himself from crying again. The sleeves and the hem of his shirt were soaked because he had run out of tissues a long time ago. But he couldn’t leave the house to buy more before he got his feelings on a paper.

It was the only way he knew to tackle the bottomless hurt that was his life now after a long agonizing time—and yet, all too soon.

He wanted the letter to be perfect, but it felt like every start had something wrong from the get go.

But everything was wrong now. Him having to write the letter in the first place was the worst.

His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and his heart ached. If ever, now he knew that heart could indeed break. Because his had.

And nothing would ever make it better.

He was angry at Billy for leaving. For going away. For hurting him like no one else ever could. Shattering his heart into a thousand pieces. It could never be put together again the way it had been.

Maybe he should’ve told Billy that his leaving would make him a shadow of his former self. Maybe it would’ve made all the difference. Maybe Billy would’ve stayed if he had.

But Billy probably had known that even without him saying the words.

Steve knew it was useless, all this anger. But he was at a point he would’ve done anything to have Billy back. If it would make a difference, he would travel on the other side of the world to find him. He would give his left kidney, if it changed everything. His life, even.

The things he would do just to see Billy one more time, to have him in his arms, just once more. Just one more touch, one more kiss.

People told him he would find someone new. That he would get over Billy.

As if it was that simple. How do you get over someone who made you the person you are? Someone you wanted to make happy every moment of every day? Someone who made you happy just by existing?

Why would you ever want to get over something like that?

He sat back down, and took another paper in front of him, and started writing.

Billy… You broke me into a thousand pieces. My life halted that moment on that couch when you left. I’m still there, sitting, still unable to breathe, just waiting for you to come back into my arms.

I’ve never hurt more, and I wish you could feel how much. I know it’s not fair to think like that. But you took everything from me. I was left with nothing, and now I don’t know how I’m supposed to live.

Because you were my everything.

There’s so much we should’ve done instead of what we did. We used to bicker about such useless things and moped in different rooms.

We should’ve taken that trip to Hawaii you always wanted. I don’t know why I always said no. Just a long weekend. Two days off from work. I could’ve done that. Or the grass in the backyard that always burned in the summer when there wasn’t enough rain. I should’ve just changed it into a plastic one and you would've had green grass all year long.

Or we should've had that baby you so much wanted, with a surrogate mother. Then I’d at least have them to remind me of you. Someone looking like you. Maybe even being a little like you.

So many things you wanted, and I denied them from you. And now I see I denied them also from myself.

What could have been if in all those moments I would’ve just listened instead and agreed to what you wanted? And then just kissed everything better.

Yes, we should’ve kissed so much more. And made love. Even though I loved your mind, it was never a secret that I adored your body. I don’t think I can ever touch anyone the way I did you.

I don’t think I will ever even want to.

I wish I’d known how to fix everything. How to fix whatever was causing it all, quietly eating you from the inside until it was too late to stop it.

But I know these what ifs are useless. You’re beyond of point of no return. You’re not coming back. The fucking cancer took you from me.

I loved you so much. More than I realized even myself until now when I can no longer tell you.

I just wish that when my words weren’t enough to tell you how much I loved you, my deeds spoke for themselves, even if they weren't always perfect, and that all of them together said everything you needed to hear.

Billy, you will forever be my first and my last, my alpha and my omega, my everything.

Now my only wish is that when it’s my time to join you, you’ll be at the gates, waiting.

Your ever loving husband, Steve

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringroveson bingo #harringrove fic #harringroveson bingo 2022 oneshots #angst #major character death #suometar writes

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ashseavr · 22 days

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ashley, look at it.

ashley leaned on the edge of the bathroom counter, her hands trembling as she stared at the three pregnancy tests lying on the dark granite. each one, starkly negative, a dark single light. the weight of disappointment pressed heavily on her chest, and she felt the familiar sting of tears welling up in her eyes. weeks of ivf, of needles and hormones, of hoping and praying, all seemed to crumble into nothing.

the blonde turned around to face elle, droplets of disappointment and hurt already streaming down her cheeks. it was evident the second her lip trembled and the way her eyebrows pulled, it wasn’t the answer either of them wanted.

“what if i take more? one of them has to give me the answer i want.”

of course, that’s not how things worked. she knew that. elle knew that. but maybe this time it would? she was barging with the human body and fate at this point. she swallowed back the sob she wanted to let out, and wiped a few tears aside.

“or what if we went back to bed?”

ashley’s voice was quiet, full of heartbreak.

elle reached her hand out, gently taking ashley’s in hers, and pulled her into her. ashley fit between elle’s legs, the older woman, wrapping her arms around the blonde and pulling her close.

“i-im sorry.”

it's all ashley could get out, her words cracking with emotion.

"it's okay, ash," she whispered, her voice soft and soothing, but ashley could hear the strain in it, the effort to stay strong for both of them. ashley buried her face in elle's shoulder, the tears falling freely now as the reality of the moment settled in. “don’t apologize, we can try again next time, yeah?”

ashley nodded, her tears keeping her silent for the moment. she wouldn’t lift her head from elle’s shoulder, as if she wanted to hide from the world at this point. it had been weeks of her puking, being sick - going from overjoyed at the thought of bringing a child into the world, to the fear of it not working out. hat fear was slowly becoming a reality.

"i took five, but after the first three - i couldn’t look at the other two," ashley choked out between the sobs she finally allowed herself to fall into. "just... just throw them away."

elle nodded, rubbing ashley's back gently. "i will, sweetheart. don’t worry about it."

“i hate my body. this isn’t fair. they can have a baby with no issue, as an oopsie - and we can’t even - i can’t even-..”

the blonde attempted to get her words out, but failed - letting out a breath, trying to calm herself down. gabi was still in the room with them, and she didn’t want to be like this - not in front of her.

a few weeks back, when they had went to have ashley’s fertility checked, they received news they didn’t want. then within the next few days, their friends kate and derek had announced they we’re pregnant. she was happy for them, but simultaneously angry. why couldn’t that be her? why couldn’t her body just..work? ashley congratulated them with a smile, wide as could be, as if she hadn’t been bedridden from the non-stop crying that filled her days past.

“your body is amazing. it just isn’t the right time, baby,” elle spoke out. “it’s not fair, i know. but we won’t give up. we can try again. remember what i said last night?”

elle had held her hands before they fell asleep last night, her brown eyes holding ashley’s blues. they always talked about life before they fell asleep, but this was different. this was life-changing - or they both hoped it would be. “i love you no matter what. no matter what the stick says. i won’t be upset with you, or mad. you would disappoint me, not even a sliver, okay?”

ashley remembered it clearly, elle’s words ringing in her mind. maybe elle wasn’t upset with her, or mad or even disappointed - but ashley was disappointed in herself. the only thing that pulled her out of her thought trance was gabi reaching towards her face - this baby noticing the tears trickling down the blonde’s cheeks.

“she’s trying to reach for your tears..”

elle shifted gabi a bit, her voice a little weary at the sight.

“c’mere. let’s all just be together, lay down with us.”

elle shifted, so did ashley, before they curled into one another. they stayed like that for a long time, ashley crying softly ever so often while elle held her, gabi between them, who had drifted in and out of an early morning nap. elle tried to continue to offer comfort where there seemed to be none.

into the hour, ashley got her tears to slow, and she pulled back, wiping her eyes.

“i’m going to make some tea,” she murmured, needing to do something, anything to take her mind off the crushing disappointment.

“okay,” elle replied, her voice gentle, almost as if she knew just how fragile her wife was. “i’ll clean up here, and i’ll get gabi up and changed.”

ashley nodded, giving elle’s hand a squeeze before heading downstairs to the kitchen, her steps slow and heavy. she didn’t blink at the two remaining pregnancy tests still lying on the counter, and elle didn’t bring them up, knowing ashley needed a break from the heartache.

after changing gabi and settling her back into the floor bouncer, elle returned to the bathroom. she glanced at the tests, almost ready to toss them into the trash when something caught her eye. the faintest of lines, barely visible on one of the tests, made her heart skip a beat. she picked it up, her breath catching in her throat as she realized what she was seeing—a positive result. faint, but there. the second test, too, positive - yet much darker

elle's hands shook as she carefully wiped one of the tests clean, the positive result now clear. a slow smile spread across her face, tears of joy welling in her eyes as the realization hit her.

ashley was pregnant.

her ashley, was carrying their child.

she knew how much this moment would mean to ashley, how it would lift the weight of disappointment from her shoulders. elle wanted to make it special, a memory they would have forever.

taking the cleaned test, she placed it gently in gabi's tiny hand, wrapping the infant’s fingers around it.

“come on, sweet girl,” she whispered, picking gabi up and heading downstairs.

in the kitchen, ashley was stirring her tea absentmindedly, lost in her thoughts. her eyes were red and puffy, her nose red as could be to match her tear stained cheeks. she didn’t notice elle approach until gabi was placed gently in her arms.

“i’ve got to toss this diaper, hold her for me.”

ashley took gabi with no issue, yet a frown formed on her face immediately when she saw the test in gabi’s clutched fist.

what kind of sick joke was this? “elle, this isn’t funny.”

ashley frowned even more, her brows pulling together as she looked back to elle - tears threatening to already spill again.

“what isn’t funny? the stick?”

“yes, why is she holding it? here, i told you to throw it away - i meant it.”

the blonde took the test from gabi, handing it to elle. but elle didn’t take it.

“ashy. look at it.”

“i don’t want to.”

“it’s positive, ash. look at it.”

ashley’s face relaxed just a tad, glancing down at the stick, much like the others that had broken her heart three different times an hour ago. except it was different.

“that one is positive. the other one is too.”

but ashley couldn’t respond, she just looked up from the stick in her hand - meeting elle’s glance.

“i need to take more.”

ashley quickly handed gabi to elle, and took off upstairs. part of her feared the fact that she was putting her hope on two false positive tests. so she’d take two more to make sure.

when she finished, she came out - elle was waiting on their bed, just like this morning. ashley handed the new tests to her, her lip wavering in fear.

“you look. please.”

and elle did. yet her face filled with a kind of joy that ashley had seen a few times - like when they got engaged, or when ashley signed adoption papers for gabi.

“oh ashley… honey, you’re pregnant.”

ashley stood there for a moment, her chest tightening in a way that seemed to push the guilt of failure that crowded her heart earlier, away.

“i didn’t mess up..? we did it?”

“you didn’t mess up, you could never mess up. you did it, YOU did this.”

tears started trickling down ashley’s cheeks once more. yet this time elle joined her, speaking out again - her hands softly touching her wife’s stomach through her pajama top.

“ashley wren, we’re having a baby...”

#Spotify

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forsakenmissives · 1 year

Note

💞 and 💌 for the fic writer asks <33

💞 what’s the most important part of a story for you?

honestly i like an exciting story as much as the next person, but i think the characters and the writing are what stand out to me the most. i don't need a super plot-driven story if the characters are interesting and the writing is good/reflects the characters' personalities :P

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (wip) that has you excited!

you already know i gotta talk about my football au 😏 but something im really excited for in it is just. the entirety of Gwaine's storyline. the fic is from merlin's pov but u'll see the change in his relationships with the other players and i rly like the convo merlin has with balinor when it's announced gwaine's left gwynedd fc (under the read more if u wanna check it out 👀) and i love the interview gwaine has at the end of the season i just. oh my god this fic is just so fun to me 😭😭😭

let's get ((real)) fic writer asks :3

It’s on the front page of all news sites, and also the newspaper that Balinor has his head buried in, and Merlin reads it with feigned disinterest, though it’s transposed against memories of soft hair and a tight grip on his waist and sunlight glinting off reflective boots and shouts of derision across the pitch. Gwaine Orkney of Gwynedd FC has announced his leave from, well, Gwynedd FC — and everyone is holding their breath to see where the fuck he’ll go instead. Or who will make the highest bid.

“Are we eyeing him?” he finally asks after popping a few grapes in his mouth.

“Orkney?” Balinor barks out a laugh. “Fuck no.” He flips the paper back over to the front, studies the page with disinterest. “We already have Pendragon, don’t need any other drama queens.”

Which, fair enough. But Camelot could use another striker. [...] If they can afford it. And Merlin knows that they can, even if every season seems to bring CFC closer to relegation.

“You really mean to say Uther’s not in negotiations about it right now? [...] Seems like this is something he won’t be able to walk away from. [...] And if Aredian feels the slightest bit of interest, you know Uther will jump.”

“Spineless,” Balinor replies.

“So I’m right.” Merlin huffs a laugh, finally going back to eating. “Let’s see if they’ll know what to do with him once they get him.”

“We’ll see if he and Arthur can stand each other first.” Balinor flicks the paper, straightening it out, and goes back to reading, face now hidden. Merlin hums, spears a slice of apple.

They’ll tear each other apart, is what’ll happen. And Merlin will watch it all, unable to do a thing about it. Two brilliant players, and they’ll die under Aredian’s tutelage. Amazing. Balinor is once again fully invested in other football news, [...] but Merlin still says his thoughts aloud:

“I thought Uther likes football. He likes Arthur, doesn’t he?” He presses the toes of his trainers against the legs of the table. Balinor turns the page. “He did fix Camelot up. I can’t and I won’t deny that. But what happened? Aredian’s been too lucky.”

Balinor clears his throat. The paper flutters.

“He must’ve been good at one point,” and Merlin does pretend that he’s never watched a match while hidden behind the couch, “but where that gaffer went, I’ll never know. And his dick certainly isn’t so good that Uther absolutely must stay on it.”

“Merlin,” Balinor finally snaps, but he doesn’t disagree. Merlin considers it a win.

[...]

If it were any other club, he’d think it might be Gwaine’s attitude. Where Arthur is bad, Gwaine is somehow worse. Well, not ‘somehow’. Arthur is unintentionally dramatic. Gawine is completely, totally intentionally dramatic, and he doesn’t care how that comes across. The more drama he can spark the better.

Merlin thinks of Gwen, her integrity and insight, and he thinks of Morgana, her intimidation and her intelligence, and he wonders if there’s a publicist in the world who could manage him. Probably not. Maybe he shouldn’t be wishing for Gwaine so bad, if only for Moragna’s sake.

#thanks for the ask!!!!!!! 💚🌟#tbh that first question was pretty hard to answer esp bc its like yes a story can be written beautiful but if i think the author is taking #themself too serious i'll drop it. if it's generally bad writing (grammar spelling format) i'll drop it. if they use a phrase i don't like #or if they use the same phrase over and over and it irritates me i'll drop it #i'm an insanely petty reader idk #drlavenderpepper #lavender tag #fic tag

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javelinbk · 2 years

Text

Inappropriate subtext behind Beatles jokes, Part Three: John wishes his son had never been born

(Ok, this one might not actually be a joke)

Q: What is your opinion concerning the anti-baby pill?

Paul: Erm, it’s very good, er, obviously.

John: I wish they’d had it a few years ago.

Paul: You know, it’s normal, you know, isn’t it? Everyone should use it, if they need to…

John: Yes…

Paul: Even the Pope

John: We want the Pill!

Part One

Part Two

#oh john #poor cyn #poor julian #fair point but maybe don’t say that in front of the world’s press #inappropriate subtext #john and paul #the beatles

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Note

avenger!reader who suffers from depression and is really hard on herself/themself and blames themself after a mission went wrong and locks themselves out, bucky is worried abt them and comforts them

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count:3102 (wow I went off the rails a bit huh 😅)

Warnings: self-blame, mentions of death, nightmares, panic attacks, breakdown, lots of tears, this one’s really angsty, flashbacks, some fluff/comfort but so much angst

A/N: I loved this request and had a great time writing it. This one’s a lil more angsty than I usually do and deals with some heavier themes than some of my other ones, so please take care of yourself and heed the warnings. I love you guys so much!

There was nothing you could have done.

You were the first off the quinjet, anxious to get out of the unbearable silence.

You kept your head down as you walked quickly to your room, trying to make as little noise as possible, stumbling to get into your room as fast as possible, locking the door behind you as you let the tears fall.

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stave off your breakdown as you tried to keep taking even breaths.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” you said in a small voice.

“Yes?” the AI responded.

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep your voice even. “Turn on soundproofing, please.”

“As you wish. I am picking up on signs of distress, would you like me to call Sergeant Barnes?”

You shook your head violently at the thought of anyone, especially your boyfriend seeing you like this. “No.”

“Are you sure? Would you like me to call -”

“Don’t let anyone in this room.”

“As you wish, Y/n.”

You heard a noise indicating that the room had been soundproofed.

And you lost it.

You brought a hand to your face and sank back against the wall, shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs. You pushed yourself back against the wall, trying to ground yourself. Your mind flashed back to the mission you had just returned from and you let out an agonizing scream.

You’ll never forget the looks on their faces.

“Y/n, come on we have to go!”

“Wait - no I almost have them!”

“Help us - please - no don’t go!”

Blood curdling screams that didn’t belong to you, followed by your own.

A building had collapsed on an innocent family in the aftermath of the fight. You tried to get them out, but you were too late, Steve pulling you away at the last second before you were taken out too.

You were so angry, you had been so close - if you had seen them sooner, if you had just a few more seconds, maybe you could’ve gotten them out.

The last thing that they saw was their only hope being pulled away from them before being suffocated.

You were the last thing they saw, you had promised to get them out.

And you had lied to them.

The last thing they felt was hope that they’d see another day. No - the last thing they felt was betrayal and fear when they realized that one of the world’s greatest heroes couldn’t be their hero too.

The moments that had followed were a blur, your eyes frozen on where their eyes had been, shock coursing through your veins. You had seen someone die before but...not like that. Not when you could’ve maybe saved them.

The shock quickly bubbled into anger as you turned to Steve.

“Why the FUCK would you do that? I could’ve saved them!”

“You would’ve died Y/n!”

“If you hadn’t been distracting me then maybe I would’ve gotten them out in time!”

You had angry tears in your eyes, hitting Steve’s chest and doing exactly nothing to his broad form while he tried to console you.

“Get the fuck away from me! I could’ve saved them, this is YOUR fault.”

The ride back was silent. No one dared to talk to you about what had happened. You felt bad after a while but you couldn’t apologize without completely crumbling. If you opened your mouth you were certain that sobs would come rather than words.

You did feel horrible for what you said, because it wasn’t true. It wasn’t Steve’s fault.

It was yours.

So you waited until you returned to the privacy of your room, screaming bloody murder over the guilt you felt. Replaying what had happened, telling yourself everywhere you had gone wrong, every hesitation that could’ve given you an extra few seconds.

You felt like you’d never stop seeing their eyes, paralyzed by fear.

You were the last thing they saw, and now you would remember their last moment for the rest of yours.

You couldn’t imagine the amount of pain and fear they had felt when they realized they weren’t getting out of the rubble alive. That they would die as a part of a warzone they didn’t intend to be a part of. The feeling of hope draining from their bodies, blood running cold as they realized they had mere seconds left.

“No!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, body curling in on itself as you drew your knees in and wrapped your arms around your torso, sick to your stomach.

This was your fault, and you would never forget it.

---

The rest of the team had sighed as they watched you get off the quinjet, walking a bit too fast to be alright. They shared concerned looks with each other, watching your form disappear into the compound.

You weren’t okay, but after what had happened when Steve tried to approach you, they thought it best to give you some space.

The rest of them entered the compound, going their separate ways as Steve sat to down and ran a hand down his face, trying to get his mind off of what had happened. He was shaken up too, but he couldn’t lose you like that. You would die protecting strangers, and while he thought that was noble, he wondered when there wouldn’t be someone to pull you out in time.

Bucky had come down to check on you, knowing that the team had gotten back from a mission. But before he could knock on the door, F.R.I.D.A.Y. spoke. “Sergeant Barnes, Y/n has requested that she not be disturbed.”

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, both in concern and confusion. Usually when a mission hit you hard, you would talk to him about what had happened. So either you were just tired, or this was worse than it had ever been.

He clenched his jaw and stood there for another few moments before he walked away, heading towards anyone who may be able to tell him what happened on the mission.

He came into the common room, seeing Steve doing a mission report. Well - the mission report was in front of him and he was staring blankly at it.

“Steve?” Bucky said softly, trying not to startle him.

Steve didn’t look up.

“Steve,” Bucky said a little louder.

Steve looked up from the papers, shaking his head slightly. “Hey, Buck. What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked, taking in Steve’s tired appearance and how his mind seemed elsewhere.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Steve said, barely looking at Bucky.

“You know, I’ve taken care of enough black eyes from mister back-alley hero to know when you’re not really fine.” Bucky said with a small smirk.

Steve’s eyes flicked up to Bucky’s as he sighed. “It’s not me you should be worried about,” he muttered.

“What happened?” Bucky asked.

Steve recounted the mission to his friend, Bucky getting increasingly concerned about you. He knew you had a tendency to blame yourself for different things, and he knew what blaming yourself for someone’s death was like, even if you couldn’t control the situation.

Bucky was brainwashed. You were too late. Two different things, but the survivor's guilt was excruciating.

“Is she okay?” Bucky asked nervously.

“She didn’t get hurt, if that’s what you mean,” Steve started, “but she seemed pretty shaken up. You haven’t talked to her?”

“She doesn’t want to be bothered,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded. “Just give her some time,” he said, worriedly.

Bucky nodded, though unconvinced. He bottled up his emotions until the two of you met. Ever since the two of you never kept anything from each other. And he knew that seeing someone die and feeling at fault for it could destroy you. He wasn’t sure if time and space was what you needed.

But it was what you wanted right now. So he wouldn’t get in the way.

----

Back in your room you were curled in a ball on the floor, sobs wracking your body as you lost all sense of time and space and all you knew was it hurt and if you closed your eyes they were right there and you couldn’t do anything about it. You had a hand pressed to your chest as you tried to breathe but eventually gave way to a new surge of agony when your mind went back to how people died and you couldn’t help them.

You tried to calm down but then your mind would remind you that they had a family and they would never see them again and it was your fault.

“Stop, please just stop,” you put your hands over your ears as you tugged slightly on your hair.

They died terrified.

“Please make it stop,” you sobbed.

You were supposed to help them and you failed.

“No, God, please stop…”

They died because of you

----

You had fallen asleep on the floor at some point, when, you weren’t sure, but you woke up to your own screams. You were drenched in a cold sweat, dried tears on your face and chest heaving as you tried to breathe. You brought your hands to your mouth when you realized it was just a dream, sobbing once again.

You didn’t know why these people’s death was hitting you harder than any other death you had seen. This wasn’t the first time you had seen people die - far from it. You’d killed your fair share of agents without a hint at remorse. Because they deserved it.

You’d seen buildings burn down, fall apart, innocent people die - but you’d never felt as responsible as you did this time. Because they were right there. And you were so close.

But they still died and you saw their last moments. And you were theirs.

And it was destroying you.

----

You didn’t leave your room the following day. Or the day after that.

Needless to say, the team was extremely worried about you. Especially Bucky.

He knew what survivor’s guilt could do to a person, and he knew being alone with your thoughts wasn’t helping. He also knew that pushing the topic could do much more harm than good, causing you to retreat further into yourself.

He tried texting you, wanting to let you know that he was there for you, that he was worried about you, and that he loved you.

None of them went though because your phone was off, you having not even looked at it since coming back from the mission.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was still telling everyone that you did not want to be disturbed, as you had requested. Obviously Tony had the power to override the locks, but again, no one wanted to push you.

When it had been 3 days since you had seen any sunlight, Bucky had had enough. He knew you couldn’t be taking proper care of yourself and he couldn’t let you do that to yourself. He had Tony override your locks and he came to your door, knocking gently.

“Y/n?”

Silence.

He knocked again, a little louder. “Y/n? I’m coming in, alright?”

Silence.

Bucky took a deep breath before he opened your door slowly, peeking his head in. it was the middle of the afternoon and your room was dark, the only light coming from the hallway and from the cracks between the shades, which were drawn shut.

Bucky let himself in and turned on a lamp, shutting the door behind him. He looked at you with worried eyes as he took in your appearance.

You were pressed up against the headboard of your bed, knees drawn to your chest as you stared blankly, your eyes fixated on your bedsheets. Your eyes were red, face blotchy, your hair was a mess and you were still wearing your uniform from the mission.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly, voice raspy from yelling these past few days.

“Y/n -”

“Get out,” you said quietly, though not angrily.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, y/n.”

“Please,” you said, cursing yourself as your voice cracked. You didn’t want to breakdown in front of Bucky.

“It’s not your fault, y/n.”

You pushed yourself off of the bed, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this right now, Bucky.”

“You’re going to have to talk about it at some point, y/n.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“This kind of thing isn’t going to go away, okay? Time heals but not by itself.” You weren’t listening as you ran a hand over your face, overwhelmed.

“Please, talk to me y/n. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I’m fine.”

“This isn’t fine. Not taking care of yourself and living in the dark staring at the wall isn’t fine, y/n. Please, don’t hide from me. It’s just me, y/n.”

You shook your head, eyes glazed over like glass. “I could’ve saved them.” you said simply.

“Y/n, there was nothing -”

“BULLSHIT!” You yelled. “There had to have been something I could do, if I had gotten there earlier or - or if I had moved faster or been stronger then I could’ve gotten them out! It’s my fault they’re dead okay? I couldn’t save them and that’s my fault!”

Bucky walked over to you slowly, asking you to look at him. “It isn’t your fault, y/n. The building collapsed, no one could’ve gotten them out.”

“I could have saved them.” you said again, tears falling down your face. “I could have gotten them out. I was the last thing they saw and you know what I was doing? Being carried away like some coward. They died afraid because a superhero couldn’t save them. And that’s on me.”

Bucky shook his head slightly. “You can’t save everyone, y/n.”

“So what, am I supposed to choose? I’m supposed to choose whether I save people or move on because they aren’t part of the mission? Am I supposed to let them die?” you asked incredulously.

“You can’t risk your own life like that, y/n.”

“What? And pretend like my life is any more important than theirs?!” you exclaimed.

“Y/n -”

“No, why do I have the right to walk away from people because I’m afraid of getting hurt when they’re about to die? What gives me that right?”

“Because I can’t lose you!” Bucky exclaimed. “Yes, those people matter, but goddamn it y/n, you have helped so many people and you will keep saving so many people, but you can’t do that if you’re dead. We help who we can and mourn the rest. It’s not your fault that those people died. There was nothing that you could have done.”

“But if I had a few more seconds -”

“The building still would have fallen and you’d be asking yourself for a few more seconds. There is nothing you or anyone else could’ve done.”

You stayed silent, more tears falling from your eyes. Bucky pulled you in for a hug as your shoulders started to shake with more sobs. “I know it doesn’t make it hurt any less, but it’s not your fault.”

“I can’t stop seeing the look they had on their faces,” you shook your head. “Everytime I try to sleep I see them and I can’t make it go away. And I want to forget but I don’t deserve to and it hurts but I don’t deserve to forget.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky said, knowing all too well what being haunted by the fear on someone’s face was like. “But it’s not your fault. You didn’t let them die, y/n. You would’ve given anything to save them, if Steve hadn’t pulled you away you would’ve died with them. You didn’t run away even though you knew you would die if you stayed. You do know that right?”

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” Bucky said softly. You felt new tears fall from your eyes as you hid your face into Bucky’s chest.

“You can’t tell me that nothing could be done. You can’t tell me that innocent people were going to die and that’s the way it has to be. That isn’t fair,” you spoke through your tears.

Bucky pulled back to wipe the tears from your face and look you in the eyes. “They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you did everything in your power to save them. It’s not your fault that you got there too late. Those HYDRA agents who destroyed the city - it’s their fault. Not yours.”

“I’m supposed to protect people,” you said as you shrugged and shook your head slightly. “If I can’t do that then what am I?”

“A person who is trying their best. You don’t always have to be everyone’s hero. You don’t have to take responsibility for everyone, that’s too much to expect of anyone. It’s not your responsibility to save everyone because you can’t. But you’ve saved so many people that would’ve died if you weren’t there. You are so important, but you have to stay alive to help more people.”

You took a shaky breath. “Those people were going to die no matter what,” you whispered, more to yourself than to Bucky. Your chest tightened again and you felt sick. “Oh my God,” you said, the acceptance of the fact brought on a new wave of emotions as your knees felt weak.

Bucky pulled you back into his chest again, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “It’s not your fault, y/n.”

“Then why does it hurt so much?” you sobbed against his chest.

“Because you have a good heart.”

You shook your head against his chest. “I don’t want one if it means it’s going to hurt this much.”

“It’s okay, y/n. It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.”

“Please make it stop. I don’t want it to hurt anymore.”

Bucky felt tears sting his own eyes at your pain, holding you tighter against him. He cleared his throat before saying “I can’t make it go away. But I’m here to hold you and do everything I can to make it better. I’m not going anywhere y/n.”

He held you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

--------

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iovchlde · 4 years

Note

hi!! may i request some reverse comfort headcanons for diluc, kaeya, childe, and xiao? maybe about relationship insecurity or something of that sort??

relationship flaws and insecurities.

no one is perfect— so what exactly are their flaws in a relationship? and what do they feel most conscious of in a relationship?

featuring diluc, kaeya, childe, xiao

diluc

he feels that he might scare you off with his overprotectiveness. he’s already lost someone before, and he doesn’t think he can handle losing you either.

it’s not that he wants to control your life— in fact, he wants you to live it to its full extent. but there’s always that small worry, an annoying voice, in the back of his head that reminds him that the wilderness of teyvat is dangerous.

subconsciously, he may find himself interrogating you if you plan on leaving the house early in the morning, or late at night. there’ll be times where small quarrels stem from this, and inevitably it can get heated sometimes.

if you walk out on him for more hours than what feels comfortable, to cool off, he might start to think if you’ve left him for good.

diluc’s sitting at the edge of the bed, and there’s a consistent tapping on the floor as he anxiously drums his foot against it. it’s way past his assigned time to sleep, knowing he has to be up early to run his business. he doesn’t have half the mind to check what time it is, at least, not right now. all he can think about is that you’ve been gone for way too long.

he expects this from the two of you, especially after a heated argument. you two take the time away from one another to cool off and collect your thoughts, but this? this is just outrageous. if he were to give an estimate for how long you’d been gone— it would be two hours longer than you’d typically be gone for. and this just feeds into his worries from earlier, about your well-being.

the whole fight was about you and your safety after all. you would tell him that you’re fully capable of looking out for yourself; he’d say that he has enemies who may come after you; it goes back-and-forth. sensing that the argument was getting nowhere, you took it upon yourself to see yourself out first. “let’s just,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “let’s just take time to cool off for a bit, shall we?”

“it’s been longer than a bit,” he mutters to himself.

he’s snapped out his thoughts as he hears the bedroom doors open slowly. you peek your head in, just to make eye contact with diluc. you two freeze, simply caught off-guard in the moment. he notes how your hair is a mess— it sticks out in certain areas, and obviously has not been brushed down— and you look a bit rugged. “hey,” you mutter sheepishly.

he wonders if he should ask you where you’ve been, but he holds his tongue. “are you okay?” diluc asks instead, and there’s a certain tenderness in his voice as he addresses you. “you look a bit... rough.”

you snort, throwing a feign hand of offense over your chest, at his words. “gee, thanks. nice to know i’m looking very appealing right now.” you joke. he stares at you, but you can see the faint smile on his lips at the way you’re joking around already. it’s good to know that you two are still okay. “but to answer your question, yes. i simply tripped over a pebble— it was so dark out and my foot got caught. who would’ve known that a pebble would be the one to take me down.”

he laughs at this, and you feel the tension from the argument completely lift.

kaeya

he’ll often wonder if you’re slowly becoming untrusting of him. he’s generally reserved, and quite mysterious— and it could easily be read in the wrong way.

kaeya knows that a relationship is all about communication and trust, well, for it to be healthy at least. and for the most part, he’s pretty open with you.

but there’s still certain aspects of his life that keeps in the dark from you. from his unknown past, to the business he does out of the knight of favonius— he likes that you look up to him as a respectable knight.

sometimes, you’ll ask him why he has duties to attend to at the dead of night, to which he reassuringly tells you that he’s simply off to bother diluc at the tavern. but he knows you’re catching on— diluc hasn’t seen him in the tavern for quite a bit.

“i know you haven’t been at the tavern.” you finally speak up, and you keep your eyes trained on the plate of food in front of you. you dig at the food, poking it around with your utensils— anything to keep your mind off of the fact that your heart is slightly racing right now. you don’t mean to be confrontational, but to be frank, you’re fed up that kaeya hasn’t been honest with you. “you can say that it came as a surprise to me when diluc said you hadn’t been there for a while now.”

“i guess it was only a matter of time before you’d ask diluc about me, and my whereabouts.” he sighs. he’s leaned into his chair by now, and he’s looking at you. your lips are locked into a tight line, a little peeved at the way he still talks so smoothly, and treats this so casually. as if he weren’t taking this seriously, and that this was just some other conversation to him. “i’m simply handling nightly duties.”

your grip becomes slightly tighter around your utensils, and he notices; your knuckles are turning slightly white, and your breathing is slightly out of pace. there’s a small change in his expression, and you can see the way his eyes narrow slightly.

“does it hurt to be honest to me about these things?” you ask him, genuinely hurt at the way it feels like he doesn’t trust you enough. “as your significant other, i guess i’d expected you to be more open to me. i’ve already told you countless times that no matter what, i’ll stick around— and even right now, i mean those words.”

once i tell, there’s no going back, is what he wishes to say. that it’ll be hard to look at someone the same way you’ve done before. “look,” he says as he sighs. kaeya wracks his mind for a way to respond— in a way where he wouldn’t be lying, but he wouldn’t subject you to danger either. “these matters, my nightly duties if you will, are matters between the abyss order and i. i’m afraid that if i tell you anything more about what goes on, you’ll become a target as well. too much knowledge can be harmful.”

“and you couldn’t just tell me that from the get-go?” it’s a fair point, and he throws you an apologetic look from across the table. “i understand, okay? just,” you swipe a hand through your hair. “no more secrets. i don’t think i’ll be as understanding if there’s a next time.”

“of course, my love.”

childe

he fears that one day, he’ll come home and you won’t be there anymore; his involvement with the fatui doesn’t make it any better.

the fatui is known for... it’s notorious deeds, to put it lightly. he had warned you beforehand, that dating a fatui harbinger will be exhausting. mentally, that is.

he’s bloodthirsty and thrill-seeking— it’s his nature. but he knows you don’t agree with the brutal ways the fatui handles their business, and he tries his best to take your mind off of it.

but it’s hard to ignore the words that circulate around liyue about certain things that he’s been up to. childe wonders that if you’ll get fed up one day, and just leave him.

there’s always a small amount of anxiety that bubbles up within childe whenever he approaches the doors of your shared bedroom. there’s that slightly irrational fear that he’ll walk in, and the room will be empty; you won’t be beneath the sheets in deep sleep, and your small breaths wouldn’t fill the room. his hand is hovering over the doorknob, and he almost laughs. a man like him, who stares death in its eyes, too afraid to open the door in fear that he’ll see something he doesn’t like.

childe gathers the courage to twist the knob, and the door creaks softly as he pushes it open. he pauses halfway, the fear taking over him for a second, but pushes through. he lets out an audible breath of relief— seeing you alive and well in front of him, and the comforts of just seeing that. his shoulders slack visibly at the confirmation, and he allows himself to enter the room.

he strips himself of clothes that he’s worn outside, changing into ones more fitting for bed. he’d jump straight into your arms if he could— but he knows that even in a sleepy state, you would still scold him.

he stalks towards the bed after doing the necessities. you stir at the way the bed dips beside you, feeling a pair of strong arms wrap around you. “childe?” you mutter. your voice is laced with sleepiness having just awoken, and you’re rubbing at your eyes as you turn to face him. it takes a second for your brain to start functioning, and you blurt out the first word that comes to mind. “hi.”

“hi to you too,” he mirrors, a small smile gracing his lips. your eyes are barely open as you glance at him, and your words are slightly slurred— but despite that, he truly thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world that he has someone as good as you. someone who sticks around, despite his affiliation. “i’ve missed you a lot, y’know.” he says.

“i missed you more,” you challenge, even in your sleep driven state.

he chuckles at you, before pressing a small kiss to your nose. “sure, sure. let’s fight about who misses each other more in the morning, okay?”

xiao

he’ll often doubt why you’re with him— and wonder if there’ll ever be a day where you run out of patience with him.

he’s getting better with affection, and he’s not finding it as weird as he had before. he doesn’t initiate things, still too embarrassed about the last time he failed to hug you. he wants things to be intimate, but there are still times where he flinches if you touch his hand or hug him, after forgetting to give him a heads up.

you always smile at him, and tell him that you care for his comfort the most. he can see the pain behind your smile though— almost a year of dating and he still hasn’t warmed up to you.

xiao still doesn’t fully understand the logic and need behind affection. but what he does know is that humans seek affection. they are social beings after all. knowing that, he worries that you’ll eventually want someone else who can give you the affection that you deserve.

“i’m sorry,” xiao apologizes in a panic. he was so thrown off-guard and so deep in his thought, that when you’d given him a back hug, he had reacted more violently than intended. thus, he had instinctively pushed you off his shoulder. it was hard to miss the flash of hurt in your eyes as you stumbled back, a little baffled, not expecting xiao to react in a such a way. “i... i apologize for that, y/n.”

it’s easy to notice the literal distance between you two and he reaches out for you, to which he stops himself midway. there’s just something that feels so wrong about touching you right now, especially after he’d just shoved you— it doesn’t feel right. even to now, he’s still scared of touching you. he finds himself getting frustrated at the way that he just can’t wrap his head around doing things in a romantic aspect. even he’s running out of patience with himself, so why do you still have so much?

you notice the way his hand stops, and you can see the countless of emotions within his eyes as he stares at his hands. there’s little glimpses of worry, of self-doubt, and you can tell right now that he’s being critical of himself. you don’t blame him for reacting that way, now that you look back on it in hindsight. anyone would’ve reacted like that as a form of self-defense.

“it’s alright, xiao, it really is.” you reassure him. “don’t be too harsh on yourself, okay? i said we’d take it as slow as we have to, and i plan on keeping my word for that. now... may i?” you gesture to his outstretched hand. he gives you a blank look at first, but nods slowly.

you take his hands in yours— you take your time to link your fingers, intertwining them and appreciating the way they mold together perfectly. you let him feel the way you draw soothing circles on the back of his hand. it’s such a simple action, but it flows with intimacy, and it has a weird feeling erupting in his stomach. (butterflies, he recalls you telling him.)

“see this?” you raise your linked hands. “if this is what you’re comfortable with at the moment, then i’m more than willing to hold hands for as long as you want.”

he wonders if you’ll grow impatient with him— but for now, he’s reassured you’ll stick around.

author’s note.

i’ve put this off for so long, and i intended on keeping it short— but then i felt bad and so i decided to indulge just a little

#genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact angst #genshin diluc #genshin xiao #genshin kaeya #genshin childe #kaeya x reader #childe x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader

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beccascribbles · 4 years

Note

Can i ask for a suna x reader request where the reader is the team’s manager and swear she wouldn’t date another volleyball player after her ex, but suna changes her mind? 👀👀

a/n - this ended up way longer than i intended. whoops. honestly as i wrote this, i forgot all about the original plot. he does still change her mind though! it just became more of a best friends to lovers au (which i’m a big fat lover of). anyway, hope you enjoy :)

You swore off dating volleyball players the night you turned up at his house, tears rolling down your cheeks and red eyes. Your voice was hoarse when you told him, when you told Suna you would never date another volleyball player. The tears dampened his shirt as he held you, as he listened to you rant.

Suna hated to admit it, but a part of him was glad when he saw you on his doorstep that night. It meant you had finally realised what a piece of shit you had been dating and also opened up an avenue that had been previously shut for him. However, none of that mattered when you were in front of him. Any part of him that rejoiced at your broken expression disgusted him.

"All volleyball players are shit," you sobbed, pressing your face into his chest, choosing to forget that you were currently seeking comfort in the arms of one. "Can you believe he cheated on me?"

"I always told you he was a piece of shit," drawled Suna, rubbing soothing circles into your back. You bit back another sob, landing a light smack to his shoulder.

"And you're suddenly Mr Perfect?"

"I wouldn't cheat on you."

"Well, it doesn't really matter anyway," you sighed, curling into the warmth Suna provided, arms wrapping around his waist. "A volleyball player and me will never be a thing again. Fuck that. I'm not going through that pain again."

That whole night Suna was there to offer you comfort. He let you wash in his bathroom, giving you one of his favourite t-shirts and a pair of boxers to wear to bed. He even gave you his bed to sleep in, saying he would sleep on the floor. You couldn't let him do that, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into the bed beside you. Suna was also the one who called your mother, explaining that you were staying at his house tonight.

And, the next morning, you were awoken to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house, walking down the stairs to be greeted by Suna on a video call with Osamu. It was clear Osamu was instructing him on how to cook, something that Suna struggled with.

"Morning, Rin, Samu," you greeted, waving at the phone screen as you stepped into view. Osamu eyes widened slightly at the sight of your clothing. You were still dressed in Suna's clothes, and, if you didn't know why, you would admit your reaction likely would have been the same.

"Ooh, y/n," sang Atsumu's voice, his head appearing at the top of the frame as Osamu pushed him away. "What have ya -"

He was cut off by Suna's barked 'shut up'. In a quiet voice, you stated simply, "My boyfriend, ex now I suppose, cheated on me."

"Did Suna make ya forget all about that loser?" asked Atsumu, his head now back in frame and pushing against Osamu's as he tried to claim the centre of the screen.

"Sumu!" snapped Osamu, shooting him a glare as he gave him a hard slap to the back of the head.

"If letting me cry and rant to him counts, then yes," you sighed, turning away from them and heading to the cupboard to grab a glass.

"Samu," called Suna, looking up from the pan helplessly, "what do I do now?"

He held up the food to show that it was burnt, charred to the point that it was disintegrating. Osamu let out a sigh. "I can come over and cook for ya if you want."

You nodded enthusiastically in the background, letting out an enthused shout. "Yes please!"

"Okay," he nodded, standing up from where he rested on his bed. "I'll be there in a bit."

"Don't bring Atsumu," pleaded Suna.

"I'm comin’," said Atsumu, poking his tongue out at the camera before Osamu hung up. Suna let out a sigh, looking over at you apologetically. His plan for a quiet morning with you to let you recuperate and prepare to face the world again was coming to an end. Instead, you would be thrust back into it with the presence of the twins, especially Atsumu.

You stepped towards him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. Head pressed against his chest, you mumbled, "I really don't mind you know. I love hanging out with the twins. You know that."

"I just wanted everything to be good for you, you know?" he admitted, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "Are you feeling better this morning?"

"Like you said, he was a piece of shit. I supposed it was about time I realised that."

"Yeah," he sighed, brushing a kiss to the top of your head. "It would've been better if you hadn't been hurt in the process."

"Well hey," you said, looking up at him with a small smile playing on your lips, "at least I know who not to date so don't worry. I won't go running into the arms of anyone on the team to make me feel better."

"You can come to me though," he murmured, voice low. You looked up at him, eyebrows raising in confusion.

"What did you say?" you asked, pulling away and moving across the kitchen to grab a glass from the cupboard.

"Um...," he hesitated, running a hand through his sleep mussed hair. He refused to meet your gaze, focusing instead on a point above your head. "Just that you can run to the twins if you need, preferably Osamu but I suppose Atsumu is good for a hookup. I guess it depends on whose hair you prefer. You've always had a thing for blondes..."

"Rin, I'm going to stop you there," you laughed, holding up a hand and cutting off his tangent. "You don't need to worry. Also, where'd you get the idea that I'm into blondes?"

"Well, your last few boyfriends..."

"Personally, I've always preferred brunettes," you shrugged, heading over to the sink to fill up your glass. You let out a light giggle. "Now that I think about it, it is weird that I always end up dating blondes."

“Evidence of your horrible taste,” he teased, forever thankful that you could take any awkward comment in your stride and put him at ease. It was something so natural to you. In fact, you had grown used to his occasional odd remarks, brushing them under the rug. There were times when you would tease Suna for it, but, most of the time, you let it slide. It was a part of your best friend.

You let out a gasp, holding a hand to your heart in fake shock. But then, you shook your head, face splitting into a grin. “You’re not wrong. Maybe you’ll have to teach me how to find a nice guy.”

“I don’t know if I’m the best choice for that.”

“You don’t know that. You’re always right about how horrible anyone I show an interest in is.”

Suna might always be right, but he was always searching for the bad points of those you dated. Jealousy drove him to overlook any of the good things, like how happy they usually made you the first few weeks you were together.

“Yeah, well,” he admitted, “I’m not necessarily looking for the good things when I judge your boyfriends.”

“You’re so overprotective,” you snorted, dancing around him to take a seat at the kitchen table. He didn’t reply to that, and you glanced upwards, taking note of his furrowed brow. You decided to change the topic of conversation, taking a sip of your water. Before you could, there was a furious knocking at the front door. Suna rolled his eyes as you stated, “The twins.”

“Well done, Captain Obvious,” he teased, ruffling your hair as he walked past you and headed towards the front door. He glanced back over at you. “Are you going to change?”

“Nah, it’s fine. They’ve seen me in worse states.”

That was true, and the fact annoyed Suna whenever he dwelled on it.

Atsumu, thinking he was being funny, had snuck into the bathroom while you were showering and stole your clothing, leaving your underwear. To be fair to Atsumu, he hadn’t attempted to peek at you in your naked state. It would’ve been difficult if he had tired considering the shower curtain was drawn. If he had attempted to look, he would have been subject to Suna’s wrath, and he had a number of photos of Atsumu in compromising positions that he could release. Suna wished you had just walked to his room and taken some of his clothes. Instead, you had strode downstairs in your underwear, ignoring the looks from the team that Suna had invited over and stood over Atsumu.

“Clothes, now,” you commanded, hands resting on your hips. Suna had been quick to leap up from his position on the sofa, pulling his sweatshirt over his head and tugging it over your own, moving you like a doll as he shoved your arms into the sleeves and pulled it down to cover your lower half. Then, Suna had also fixed a glare on Atsumu.

“You’d better fucking hurry,” he said, the set of his face threatening some kind of consequence. Atsumu hadn’t wanted to find out, getting up from his seat and jogging towards the kitchen, where he thought it would be wise to hide your clothes in a cupboard.

“You’re so irritating,” you grumbled, pulling on the leggings and then removing Suna’s sweatshirt, and throwing your t-shirt on. You held the sweatshirt out to Suna. “Thanks for the cover up.”

“Did you really need to strip again?” he spluttered, blushing furiously as he took his sweatshirt back from you.

“So dramatic,” you sighed, rolling your eyes at Suna’s embarrassment. Atsumu, meanwhile, had looked like a child in a candy store.

“I always knew ya were hot, but damn,” said Atsumu, letting out a low whistle. Though you appreciated the compliment, you didn’t hesitate to give him a hard slap to the back of the head.

“Don’t steal my clothes,” you said, before your lips tugged upwards in a teasing smirk. You leant in. “If you wanted to see, all you had to do was ask.”

It was Atsumu’s turn to blush then, looking away and avoiding your gaze. Both of you were aware your statement was a lie, but he couldn’t help his reaction. Suna watched with his arms crossed, quietly seething. His chest felt tight. Then, you had looked over at him with a bright smile and asked, “You picked out the film yet?”

Suna was jerked from the memory by an increase in the knocking and a loud shout through the door. “Open the fuck up, ya idiot. I’m hungry too.”

“Shut up, Sumu,” he grumbled, swinging open the door. He nodded towards Osamu. “There should be enough food in the fridge but, if you need more, just give me a list and I’ll nip to the shop.”

“I’ll go, too,” you piped up, appearing in the corridor behind him. Atsumu sprinted forward, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned. “Okay, you big oaf. You can let go of me now.”

“If you cry, he’ll let go of ya in an instant,” said Osamu, giving your head a pat as he walked past you and into the kitchen.

“It was one time, Samu,” whined Atsumu, releasing you and following his brother into the kitchen. “I’m great at comforting girls, better than you.”

“I can cook.”

“Yeah, well,” spluttered Atsumu, “I’m hotter than you.”

“We’re identical.”

“Still hotter.”

“Identical. Twins.”

“Just like normal,” you said, grinning over at Suna as he held his head in his hands. Any plans for a quiet morning went down the drain, but, when he glanced over at you to see your smile, he couldn’t deny that he was glad the twins had come over.

That happiness dissipated when Atsumu had been kicked out of the kitchen by Osamu and sent out with you to get the rest of the ingredients. Osamu had insisted that only Suna could be trusted in the kitchen, despite burning what he tried to make earlier. Ultimately, though, Osamu wasn’t going to trust him with cooking. He had simply wanted to talk to his friend, find out what was going through his head.

“So,” Osamu said, taking a sip from the cup of tea Suna had made before continuing, “how is y/n after last night? How are you?”

“I think she’ll be fine,” Suna said, trying to decide how much he was comfortable with sharing. Letting out an exhale, he decided he might as well take the chance to explain how he was feeling. Nothing good came from bottling it up, something that had become all too clear to him when he had almost taken advantage of the alcohol to finally kiss you.

It had been on your eighteenth birthday. Using the excuse that you only turn eighteen once, you had downed drink after drink, slowly growing steadily more drunk, evidenced by the way you had zero inhibitions to jumping up onto a table and swaying your hips enticingly for all to see. Suna had frozen at the sight, the alcohol he had also drunk making him feel slightly braver. He had walked over to you, offering you his hand as he helped you jump down from the table. He leaned in, yelling to be heard over the music.

“You want to go somewhere else?”

You looked at him in confusion, your drunken mind not being able to fully process his request. All you could really concentrate on was the party, the happy buzz lighting your nerves. “Why?”

Suna had drawn in a breath, steeling himself. “I have something to give you. In private.”

The promise of a gift had caused you to loop your arm through his, letting him guide you somewhere else. It barely even registered that he had already given you his present, a beautiful necklace, an ornate and delicate star as the one charm on it. He had pressed a kiss to your cheek after being the one to place it around your neck. In fact, you were wearing it at that moment, the lights glinting off the silver.

“So, what did you want to give me?” you asked under the light of the moon. He reached forward, tracing a finger along the curve of your face. Suna’s hand stopped its movement, cupping your cheek. “Suna?”

He let out a breath that tickled your face. Slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his lips a whisper away before a shout broke through the relative peace of the garden.

“y/n!”

Your head turned in the direction, pulling out of Suna’s grip in the process. Atsumu stumbled towards you, slinging his arm over your shoulder. “Come on. I convinced Kita to play ‘Never Have I Ever’ and he’s usually no fun at parties. You too, Suna.”

That moment between the two of you in the garden had been forgotten by you, but it replayed regularly in Suna’s mind. He buried his face into his hands, Osamu’s quiet support enough to prompt him to continue with what he was saying. “I don’t know if I will be though.”

When he looked up, his eyes were unusually vulnerable. There was a hesitation in his gaze, and Osamu waited a moment before prompting, “Why?”

As Osamu began to chop up some of the ingredients, Suna began to speak again. “She swore off dating volleyball players, and I think that extends to me. To be honest, she’s probably only ever seen me as a friend. Pathetic, right? I invest all this time into our relationship. Don’t get me wrong, I love her friendship. I’ll never take it for granted. It’s just frustrating. Do I act too friendly with her? Am I not flirty enough? Why was I friend-zoned?”

Osamu continued cutting, choosing his next words carefully. “She’s probably never thought to look at you in another way. It would make sense she doesn’t want to risk your friendship, Rin.”

“I understand that,” he sighed, “but, what can I do?”

“All you can do is try to show her how you feel and hope she realises you’re the one for her,” advised Osamu. Suna made note of this, though a part of him wondered if it was the best option. In his opinion, Suna was already showing that he had feelings for you. How could he make that more known? Seeing the uncertainty on his face, Osamu continued. “You could always ask Sumu for advice but I doubt it would be more useful than mine.”

It was some time before Suna was able to broach the topic with Atsumu, though this time with more hypotheticals than outright admissions. Your head was resting in his lap, your breathing steady as one of his hands rubbed absentminded circles into your back. You would be the first to admit you hadn’t had the best of sleep that night, falling asleep as soon as the film Osamu had chosen was playing.

“It must have been really boring if y/n’s already asleep,” teased Atsumu, giving his brother a playful shove which Osamu ignored. “She usually stays up out of pity.”

“Whatever, Sumu,” sighed Osamu, hugging a cushion to his chest as he became fully engrossed in what was unfolding on screen. It was hard to rile Osamu up when he was in his element, and, frankly, this film was one of his favourites. It made him dream of running his own chain of restaurants, though without the mafia using it as a front for drug trades.

“Hey, Atsumu,” began Suna awkwardly, immediately getting the other twin’s attention. Osamu was too focused on the film to care what was being talked about around him, something he would regret when Atsumu bragged about Suna confiding in him the whole way home. “Say you liked this girl, but she was your best friend, and swore off dating volleyball players. How would you change her mind and show her how you feel?”

“I’d just tell y/n how I feel,” he replied. “It is y/n we’re talkin’ about, yeah?”

Suna nodded, though the slight frown that twisted his face told Atsumu he wasn’t happy that he had figured it out. Atsumu simply shrugged, giving his friend’s shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s kind of obvious,” Atsumu said, glancing down at the way Suna gently brushed your hair away from your face, his other hands resting against the curve of your waist. “Anyway, she’d appreciate the honesty. No need to show her. You show her how much ya care everyday anyway. It might not change her mind straight away but havin’ it out in the open might help her come around to the idea.”

“Thanks, Sumu,” said Suna, genuinely meaning the words.

“They don’t call me the Love Maestro for nothin’,” he bragged.

“No one calls you that,” shot Osamu, tuning in for that part of the conversation. Atsumu turned to him, scandalised.

“Do too.”

“Name one person.”

“...”

“Exactly.”

Later that day, Suna walked you home, slinging an arm around your shoulder and leaning a bit of his weight on you as you walked. Your own arm wrapped around his waist instinctively to keep your balance. It felt so natural to walk along with him like this, something you genuinely missed when you were dating someone. It just felt disrespectful to the other person to act as you did with Suna while with them. A part of you recognised that the way you acted around each other could be construed as a relationship, but you had never thought to entertain the idea. He was just Suna, your best friend.

You came to a stop in front of your front door, and he released your shoulder in favour of wrapping both of his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug. Instantly, you relaxed against him, arms winding around his neck. When he pulled away, your hands still rested on his shoulders and you smiled up at him.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said, eyes unusually soft as he stared at you. His eyes landed on the necklace around your neck, the star shining up at him from where it rested just above the neckline of your top. “I’ll see you tomorrow but if you need anything, if you just want to chat, call me, okay?”

You nodded, giving his shoulder a pat before releasing him. However, you made no move to step away and open your front door. Suna leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek. At that, he stepped off your porch, turning away from you. “Goodnight.” I love you.

“Night, Rin.”

When his phone rang at two in the morning, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been expecting it. He was. It was normal for you to call him at random times of the night, particularly when you couldn’t get to sleep or had been awoken by a nightmare.

“Rin?” you breathed, voice quiet to avoid waking anyone up in your house. “Um, hi.”

“Morning, y/n,” he mumbled, switching you onto speaker and placing the phone down beside his head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just having trouble sleeping. Um, can you tell me a story?”

“Don’t you think we’re too old for bedtime stories?” he chuckled, though he was already shifting through his brain for a tale he could tell you that had not already been shared.

“We’re still in high school,” you protested, and he could hear the pout in your voice. “We’re not adults yet.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Are you ready?”

He heard the sound of movement through the speaker, the sound of you getting into bed and placing the phone on the pillow beside you.

“Ready.”

So, Suna began, telling the story of a foolish knight who had fallen for the beautiful princess, a princess who was at home when she was sparring with the knights, when she could forget about all the eligible bachelors from other kingdoms. She was a princess who ate with the Royal Guard, prepared the roster for their training sessions, and offered her support whenever she was needed.

His voice lulled you to sleep, and, before you could question what had inspired such a tale, your eyes had slipped shut and sleep had pulled you under. Suna heard your change in breathing, your soft inhales and exhales slowing until they reached a steady rhythm. He trailed off, reaching for his phone, finger hovering over the button that would end the call. He pulled his finger away, letting his hand fall back down onto the mattress. Suna fell asleep to the sound of your breathing. He could almost pretend that you were beside him.

Your phone was flat when you woke up, and you cursed, hurriedly plugging yours into the charger. You hated being late, hated not knowing what the time was as soon as you woke up. You jogged down the stairs, reading the time on the clock in the kitchen and releasing the tension in one exhale. There was plenty of time. At a more relaxed pace, you continued to prepare for the day.

It was a busy day for you as manager of the volleyball club, something that you were thankful for as it meant you couldn’t dwell on your break up. Even if you weren’t busy with your club duties, the team would provide a distraction. Atsumu and Osamu argued more as third years, the influences of Kita, Aran and the others no longer there to calm them down. Suna was no help, urging them on whenever he could and then documenting the whole affair on his phone to send photos and videos to Kita and Aran later. To be fair, you did little to break it up either, preferring to let them work out their anger. It worked, though Kita insisted there was a better way. If he wanted to come back to Inarizaki and deal with them, he could.

The sound of your phone ringing sent you running back up the stairs, dodging out of the way of a parent that had just emerged from the bathroom. Suna’s name flashed on the screen, and you accepted the call, perching on the edge of the bed.

“I guess we fell asleep on call,” he laughed, his voice rough from having just woken up. “Your phone died, didn’t it?”

“Of course it did, idiot,” you sighed. “Why didn’t you hang up once I’d fallen asleep? You usually do.”

“You sounded cute,” he admitted, glad you could not see the flush that dusted his cheeks. “Plus, I figured you would be smart enough to have it plugged in if I was.”

“Not a valid excuse,” you quipped, resting your head in the palm of your hand. With a laugh, you said, “I panicked this morning thinking I would be late. The coaches wanted me to meet with them before class. You don’t know how pleased I was when I walked down the stairs to see I still had a while before I had to leave the house.”

“Sorry about that,” he muttered sheepishly before clearing his throat. “Is it charged now?”

You glanced down at your phone screen. “It’s at about 20% so it’s probably not going to last the whole day.”

“You can use mine if you need to. It is kind of my fault after all.”

“Kind of?” you questioned, humour in your tone. “Don’t worry though. It should be fine if I leave it off until I need to use it.”

“Just let me know if you need to borrow it, okay?” he insisted. “We have late practice.”

“Yeah, I know, got to make sure you lot are prepared for nationals. No losing to Karasuno this year.”

“Mmhm,” he hummed. “I’ll walk you home, alright?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rin,” you said. “My phone will last till then. Plus, you’ll be tired after practice. I’d be a bad manager if I didn’t make you go straight home to eat.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he argued. “Besides, I can just eat at your house. Your parents say that I’m always welcome.”

“But then you’ll be going home too late. Won’t your mum be worried?”

“She’ll be fine. I usually stay out late, or are you forgetting the nights I’ve snuck over to yours and we’ve gone on midnight walks?”

“Fine,” you sighed, letting him win this time. “Don’t complain to me if you’re tired at school tomorrow.”

“When am I not half-asleep?”

“I’ll see you at school, Rin.”

“See you.”

There was no arguing with Suna over things like this. He was stubborn to a fault when it came to your safety. You might have been able to convince him to head straight home if your phone was fully charged. When that was the case, he insisted on staying on the phone with you the whole way, not feeling comfortable at the thought of you walking home alone in the dark. Suna wasn’t overbearing. If you honestly didn’t want him walking you home or calling you, he wouldn’t so long as you messaged him when you got home. But, you liked talking to him. That was the simple truth. You enjoyed spending time with Suna, and enjoyed talking to him. It was only Suna who wanted something more.

“So,” asked Atsumu, slinging an arm over Suna’s shoulder yanking him closer, “when are ya goin' to tell her?”

“Tell who?” asked Osamu. The look Suna shot him made him nod his head in realisation. “Ah, y/n… Wait, tell her? What happened to just showin’ her how you feel?”

“If that was going to work, it would’ve already,” said Atsumu, puffing out his chest proudly. “As Suna and I discussed, comin' clean and confessing is the best way forward.”

“I hate to say it, but he had a point Samu,” agreed Suna, sliding out from under Atsumu’s arm. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell her anytime soon. She’s had enough to deal with. She doesn’t need her best friend confessing to her straight after a rough break up. It’s almost nationals time as well. Confessing might throw off the team dynamic and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“I think you’re just being a pussy,” declared Atsumu, lips quirking upwards in a teasing smirk.

“I think you’re being smart,” said Osamu. “Wait until the best time.”

All Suna had done, was continuing to do, was wait. However, he made a concerted effort to be there for you more often, being the shoulder you would lean on for support. Unknown to you consciously, a part of you had begun to reciprocate Suna’s feelings. On occasion, it would be you who would reach out for him, locking your pinkies together and sharing a secret smile across the lunch table.

Over the course of the next few months, there were many late night phone calls, which quickly transformed into video chats. He listened to you, helped you work through the residual feelings from your break up. Being cheated on had left you feeling inferior, and Suna had been there to build you back up.

One day, you turned to face your friend Reo, hardly believing the words that fell from your lips. “Tell me honestly. Do you think I’m falling for another volleyball player?”

“Another one?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow. Then, the realisation finally seemed to hit her and she let out a gasp. “Suna?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, resting your chin on top of your open palm. “Am I just projecting? Do I really have feelings for him or am I just craving that kind of emotional connection with someone? Plus, it’s Suna. He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all he is to you, though?” she questioned, studying you. “I know he’s your best friend, but I am too. Who did you seek comfort from after your break up? Who do you fall asleep with over the phone every night? Did you ever act the same with people you were in a relationship with that you do with Suna? I mean, I know you haven’t kissed him or anything but you are more physically affectionate and open with him than people you’ve been in a relationship with. I know you’re going to be stubborn about this, say that’s just how you’ve always been, but I want you to think about how you treat each other. If you want my honest opinion, I’d say the feelings have always been there, especially on Suna’s part.”

You blinked at Reo, taking in what she was saying. It made you contemplate, think back on specific moments in your friendship with Suna where it was possible you had crossed some invisible line that you weren’t supposed to. But every moment with Suna felt so natural you couldn’t pinpoint where the line would be, let alone when you would have crossed it. It became clear to you then. You had feelings for Suna Rintaro. There went your vow to never date another volleyball player again.

If only Suna had realised you had made this realisation already. He could have stopped planning out how to confess to you with Osamu and Atsumu, their idea involving him reducing his contact with you until everything was prepared. That fact itself was easier said than done, and they couldn’t control what he did in the quiet of his home (which was find any excuse to phone you and talk to you).

That night, he asked you, “Can you be ready for one in the afternoon tomorrow? I have something planned that I hope you’ll like.”

“Sure,” you agreed. “I have something I want to say to you as well.”

He felt anxiety grip him at your statement, fearing the worst. His fingers tightened around the phone, his breath catching in his throat. You could hear his struggle through the phone and reassured, “Don’t worry. It’s nothing bad, at least I hope you don’t think it is. I’ve just finally realised something and want to tell you in person.”

"Okay," he breathed, though the knot of anxiety in his chest didn't loosen. "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good sleep. Love you."

"Night, Rin," you replied, feeling your heart flutter slightly at his words. The words had been said before in passing, but always with Suna firmly placed as a friend. "Love you too."

At one the next day, you were sat waiting for him on your front step, fiddling with your phone in your hands. You had just spoken to Reo for advice, her words soothing your nerves. She had told you it was clear that Suna wanted to admit something too, and, for some reason, having that knowledge outlined for you by another put you at ease.

Seeing him approaching, you rose from your seated position, gesturing for him to wait for you on the pavement. Suna came to a stop, holding out his arms for a hug. You were quick to relax into his hold, arms giving his own waist a squeeze before letting go. Smiling up at him with unusual silence, you asked, “Can I tell you something before we go? I just think you deserve to know.”

He hesitated. A part of him was curious, wanted to know, but the rest of him feared that your news would ruin what he had planned. Suna wanted to confess to you before you revealed whatever you had realised. “Um, can I show you what I planned first? It’s kind of important.”

You raised an eyebrow, wondering how it could be so important that he didn’t want to hear what you said. At the nervous look in his eyes, you took his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Still holding his hand, you pulled him after you, moving with confidence though you had no idea what direction Suna wanted to take you in. He pulled you to a stop, shooting you a smirk. “Wrong way, idiot.”

“It’s not like I can read your mind,” you sighed, throwing your arms up in exasperation. You gave him a grin. “Want to take the lead?”

“With pleasure,” he said, choosing to release his hold on your hand and drape his arm over your shoulder. In response, your own wrapped around his waist and you fell into step beside him.

The sight that greeted you was unexpected and took your breath away. It was oddly beautiful in a simple way, something no one had ever thought to put together for you before, despite its relative simplicity. You looked up at him, mouth dropping open in shock and disbelief. “You really went through the trouble of setting up a picnic for me?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied. “You said you always wanted to go on a picnic with someone you love. I figured I counted at least a little bit.”

“You definitely count,” you said, giving him a slight nudge with your elbow. “I’d probably rather do this with you anyway. On another note, who made the food? Because you can’t cook for shit.”

“Osamu might have helped a little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Maybe more than a little bit, but that doesn’t matter.”

“Whatever you say, Rin,” you grinned, wandering over to sit on the blanket. He sank onto the floor beside you, leaning his side against your own. You relaxed against his warmth, letting your head drop against his shoulder. His own head dropped to rest against yours, his hand reaching out to hold yours, tangling your fingers together.

For a moment, you sat in silence, cherishing just being together. Suna cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Before we eat, I have something to say to you. Can you promise whatever I say to you won’t change what we have right now?”

You looked up at him with concern. “I promise.”

Suna drew in a deep breath, releasing your hand and moving to sit in front of you. You let yourself miss the warmth of his body pressed against you, knotting your fingers together as you allowed your eyes to meet his. The hesitation in his face was clear, and you reached forward, resting a hand on his knee.

“Just tell me,” you reassured, smiling at him softly. “Nothing can change how I feel about you.”

“Okay,” he sighed, reaching forward, and clasping the hand you had rested on your knee. In that moment, he went for the bluntest approach. “I have feelings for you.”

You blinked over at him in shock, your grip on his hand tightening. That hadn’t been what you were expecting to hear, but hearing the words made your heart flutter. It made it so much easier to admit what you had finally realised. “I have feelings for you too.”

“Wait, you do?” said Suna, eyes widening in shock. This was far more than he could have hoped for. You nodded slowly, unable to help the own smile that pulled at your lips in response to his own.

Suna moved closer to you, letting his hand come up to rest against your face. He cupped it carefully, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Slowly, giving you the option to pull away he leaned in, only to let out a small gasp in shock when your hands gripped his top and pulled him towards you, pressing your lips against his. His hands slipped into your hair, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, letting out a low groan of satisfaction at the feel of your hands slipping under the material of his top and rest against his bare skin.

“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling away to rest his forehead against your own. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that for.”

“Hope it was worth it,” you giggled, leaning forward to brush your lips against his. He captured your lips once again, kissing you softly, delicately.

“More than worth it,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. You fell into his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. It was still racing now, even though you had accepted his advances. You lifted your head up, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Want to eat the food Samu made now?” you questioned, turning in his hold and resting your back against his chest. His stomach let out a low grumble. You leaned forward, grabbing a plate of food and letting out a giggle. “I suppose I’ll take that as an answer then.”

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

how does levi kiss like the first kiss as a couple or just random levi kissing headcanons!!

author note :: very cute ask thank you to anon. my requests are always open and i try to get to them eventually !!! :-)) word count :: 1.6k... i have too much to say

the first time levi kisses you all he can think about is whether or not he’s doing it right. sure, he’s had his fair share of kisses but he’s never overthought it to this extent

he’s the one to initiate it. he approaches you and gives you a warning before he does – “i want to kiss you.”

you would have thought someone like levi would be hard and rough with the way they kiss but instead he swoops in awkwardly – your noses bump against each other and he softly presses his lips against yours

he doesn’t pick a very good moment to do it. you’re covered from head to toe in sweat and are beyond surprised he’s thought you’re worthy enough to be kissed especially when in this state. you assumed he’d like it better if you were cleaner

but what you don’t know is the reason why he’s kissed you, levi knows he’s bad at expressing himself, he knows no matter how hard he tries he’s bound to be misinterpreted at some point. he just wants to make you feel loved. his usual way of doing it is by taking care of you or scolding you when you make mistakes during training

he’s been told time and time again that it doesn’t even look like the two of you are dating. it’s probably because dating levi isn’t much different from any other relationship with him, for the most part it doesn’t seem like much has changed to everyone else

so he really does want you to know that you are in fact different and special to him. he’s secretly very insecure about you leaving him. he thinks maybe if he doesn’t show how much you mean to him you’ll leave and he doesn’t want you to leave

that’s how the two of you have got here, levi’s been wondering when to do it all day and something kicks in when he sees you walk out of the stables. you still seem so upbeat despite the current climate of the world around you

no matter how dark everything’s become you’re an ever present light in levi’s life, your shine never dulls

and so he takes his opportunity not caring if your hair is disheveled or if sweat layers your forehead. he’s happy to do it no matter the circumstances.

midway through the kiss he cradles your face in his hands and you both just kinda stare at each other, it isn’t awkward the both of you are just in awe that levi’s the one to initiate the first kiss

usually when you hold hands you’re the one to place your palm into his, if you hug you’re the one who’s placed your arms around his frame. the only time levi’s ever initiated physical contact is when he’s adjusting the straps of your gear

so really for him to initiate something as huge as your first kiss together really is heartwarming

he pulls you back into the kiss by intertwining your fingers together and leaning in so he can continue again. for some reason he just gets emotional by it all. maybe it has something to do with the way the world stops when he kisses you. he’s resilient and doesn’t let any tears fall but he shakes trying to hold himself together

of course you sense the trembling when your hand begins to vibrate against his. you immediately stop not wanting to overwhelm him.

levi looks hurt by that, he thinks you might have not enjoyed it but then you wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and press a soft kiss against his forehead

“are you doing this to show me that you love me?” the question you murmur against his chest has him scowling but you can see the hint of a blush creep up his cheeks

“why would i do that? you should know i like you.” he nearly smacks himself across the face when he says like instead of love. he doesn’t mean it, he does love you he’s just too embarrassed to say it

he half expects you to be angry about that but you smile and he’s never felt more grateful to have you around

“i’m glad you like me, that means you care for me.” you tell him

he doesn’t know what to do, he completely malfunctions because you’re just so right for him. you’re so firm in your belief that he loves you that you don’t even need his reassurance to understand that.

“don’t you think i treat you like everyone else?” he asks, he’s been meaning to bring it up for a while now, he has no idea how to act around you

“no i love you. you bring me tea every day. you don’t do that for anyone else. i think i’m pretty special just for that!!! :-)”

at that levi kisses you again not because he wants to show you he loves you and so you don’t leave. he kisses you this time because he knows you won’t leave him and he knows you’re aware of his love for you

it’s even more soft and gentle than the first kiss you shared together just seconds earlier. you can practically feel the beating of your heart it thumps erratically and at this rate it may as well jump right out of your chest

levi’s holding up much better after hearing your soothing words. he has no doubt you love him. usually touching his hair is a no go for most people but he allows you to play around with it, you’re understandably fidgety and nervous and don’t know where to put your hands

by the time the both of you pull away panting he acts like it hasn’t happened for a few minutes. he sits there thinking woah so i finally did that ????

then he starts worrying what if you didn’t like it ??? what if you were pretending to enjoy it ??? what if he was a bad kisser ??? what if—

“you look worried.” you say looking right into his eyes, you’ve always been able to see right through him.

“am i a bad kisser?” the question leaves his mouth so quietly it’s inaudible and you have to ask him to repeat himself again

being physically intimate has always caused worries for him and he can’t help but overthink. he refuses to repeat what he’s said but you won’t let it go

“fine...” he can’t even look up at you. “i asked if i was a bad kisser. what if you like me less because...well yeah.”

god

he’s just so

endearing????

everyone assumes he’s the type to just kiss and go for it without much thought but honestly he really does think about the importance of the action for a long time

“you can kiss very well. trust me.” your fingers curl into the fabric of his button up, you can see that there’s a still a little uneasiness left in his eyes

“and anyway if you couldn’t kiss i’d just teach you how. it’s no big deal.”

his face lights up and the ghost of a smile makes itself known – “then why don’t you teach me what i don’t know?”

and then he’s back at it, once levi starts kissing you it takes a lot to stop him and you telling him that he can actually kiss pretty well has him feeling on top of the world!!!

all in all levi is a gentle kisser for the most part. it’s a popular assumption that he’s rough and powerful with it but really he enjoys savouring the moment. he doesn’t have to go hard and fast, he’d much rather spend his time with you. he finds that going slow makes it all the more meaningful :-)

a few other random yet specific headcanons i have about levi kissing !!! :

levi prefers to kiss you on the forehead or cheek compared to the lips because your reaction is always bashful and flustered, it’s nice to see that

after your first kiss he builds his confidence up, he feels comfortable kissing you anywhere even in front of others but that doesn’t mean he will. pda isn’t really his thing, sure he’ll respond if you kiss him in front of other people but he saves kisses for when you’re alone. it’s purely because he doesn’t like having others spectate.

very bad at reading hints, if you want to initiate a kiss with him you’ll just have to go for it because no matter how much you hint at it he won’t understand

“are you going to kiss me or am i going to have to lie in my journal?”

“since when have you kept a journal??”

likes to kiss you after you’ve both had your daily cup of tea, no explanation needed it’s pretty self explanatory

once he accidentally bit your tongue and he hasn’t been able to live it down ever since. whenever you bring it up he just acts like he hasn’t heard you, it’s too embarrassing to talk about again.

another time jean told him he wasn’t romantic enough and despite disliking pda levi grabbed you by the waist and dipped you out nowhere so he could kiss you. yeah,, that really did shut jean up and levi was understandably incredibly smug about it :-)

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lureofthegallowsgame · 2 years

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❛ mark . leave a mark on my muse’s body [ thigh/neck ] . For leo

Leo beloved 🥺

“Hey, have you seen Leo around?”

The pair of shapeshifters shake their heads. I vaguely know them - they don’t work with the Council often, though, so I’m not confident enough to know their names - but it’s clear that they recognize me. It’s not surprising anymore, not really. Strange, maybe, but not surprising.

“You could try the sunroom,” one of them suggests, a mischievous spark in her pale irises. “I think I saw Wyatt disappear in there with a tray of cupcakes.”

Despite myself, I laugh. In all the years, Wyatt hasn’t changed in that way at all, and surely, Leo is right at his heels to conduct damage control. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Thanks.”

It’s tricky to maneuver the crowd, but I slip by with a few waves and excuses. Not very many people want to talk to me anyway. They’re usually searching for Leo, and they find it easy to corner me instead. This time, I’m the one to find Leo backed into a corner.

I can hear two familiar voices before I can even open the door to the sunroom.

“Just one?” Wyatt’s pleading voice drifts out, and I can hear Leo’s sigh, even muffled through the wood.

“You said that last time,” I hear Leo saying as I open the door, and they both jolt in surprise when I appear. Then twin expressions of relief cross their faces when they recognize that it’s me interrupting their little standoff. Wyatt is holding a tray of cupcakes and the smear of icing on the side of his mouth is a dead giveaway to his intentions.

Leo, on the other hand, simply looks exasperated. They offer me a smile, though, and it’s small but genuine.

“You’re stealing the desserts again, huh?” I say to Wyatt. He offers me an endearing grin in response, a reflection of his younger self when he could get away with anything. Ever since his growth spurt hit, he’s been eating more, and nothing filled with sugar was safe from his hunger.

“How about you have another burger?” Leo suggests. “And you can have all of the leftover cupcakes if Mom says it’s alright.”

Wyatt’s grin widened. “Deal.”

Satisfied, he slipped out of the sunroom, still carrying his plate of cupcakes as if it was a sacred idol. Leo merely shook their head after him, giving me a look that said: this kid is killing me.

“He’s not even a teenager yet,” I tease them, crossing the room. Leo pulls a face at the reminder but still opens their arms to wrap me in an embrace, squeezing me just tight enough for my breath to wheeze in response.

“I wasn’t like that even as a teenager,” Leo sighs, resting their temple against mine. “At some point, he must get full. How can one boy eat so much?”

“Maybe,” I drawl out, poking Leo’s side, “Wyatt does it because he knows his sibling won’t stop him from having extra treats.”

Leo laughs. “Fair enough. Luckily, Mom makes enough treats for a pride twice our size.”

I hum in agreement, tucking my face in the crook of their neck. “Thanks for abandoning me at our party, by the way. I had to fend for myself through the small talk.”

I could feel their chest rumble with their laugh. In response, I press a soft kiss to the underside of their jaw, reveling in the way their breath catches in a groan.

“Everyone was asking about you,” I add. I duck my head to press another kiss to the curve of their collar, gently scraping my front teeth against their skin just to feel Leo shiver in my arms. They pull me impossibly closer, their arms trapping me against their body. As if I would vanish into thin air if they weren’t there to harbor me.

“Everyone can wait,” Leo whispers. They nudge their nose against the side of mine, a brief affection, before pulling me into a searing kiss. I wrap my fists in the fabric of their flannel, savoring the rush and the warmth of them, distantly aware of the muffled sounds of the party happening beyond the sunroom door. It feels as if we’re in our own world, and I settle against Leo with a blissful sigh.

“How long do you think we have?” I ask them, sliding my fingers into the softness of their curls.

Leo smiles, their amber eyes swirling with wildfire. “As long as you want, darling.”

#prompts #ask #leo #wyatt never grows out of his shenanigan phase ashgdh #we love him for it 😤

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

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Can you do a zemo x reader where the reader is scared to marry or be in a relationship with zemo because they feel like they are replacing zemo's dead wife?

An Honest Proposal [Baron Helmut Zemo x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mention of losing a loved one

Author’s note: This is a theme that I loved to analyse while writing, thank you so much for offering it to me to write!

You looked at him, you gulped down as he was proposing there, in that moment.

It wasn't like you weren't already on cloud nine when he brought you to Paris for a long weekend out, or when he told you that he booked the Palace of Versailles for the two of you to dine in the mirrored halls in your evening clothes.

Oh no.

He had to take your hand and give you a tour showing off his cultured self, how much he knew, all the trivia and the famous quotes and rules of the french court.

His charm was over pouring and you were feeling like a princess, like the world was made to unravel around you and develop from you.

Then he did it, he dropped onto his knee presenting you the finest piece of jewellery and craftsmanship that had ever been done on a ring.

“Would you give me the honour to become my wife?"

Those the words, and here you are now, staring at him, the lights of Versailles shining upon you, suddenly you couldn't hear any sound but the rhythmical beating of your heart.

"Yes, yes I do"

You said it or maybe you shouted it but then he took your hand and slipped that ring on your finger and you kissed him.

The world was perfect and you were the luckiest one in the world.

But then you couldn't sleep that night.

You kept rolling around in the sheets as your mind was a mess.

He promised you love forever, he swore to you time and time again you were his love, that he wanted to have a future with you, sometimes he even dropped a little hint of your future life together.

You usually smiled it off, you nodded and giggled or shut him up with a kiss.

But now the ring made it real, his honest smile making you feel guilty to the bone for the distrust you were giving in for him.

He did it all, he did it all perfectly, he was romantic, attentive, gentle, observant. He tried all his best to show you only the best side of himself and even when arguing he would be cold and try to detain the fiery nature of his character.

You sighed as you realised sleep was not coming to you, not even after the also amazing good night sex you had.

You slipped out of bed trying to be less noisy as possible, you had a luxurious suite to stay in Paris so you could let him rest. You wore your night gown and wrapped it safely around your body as you closed the door behind you going to the living room area turning on the tv to low volume as you sat on the comfortable couch.

Your eyes went down to your left hand, that ring so proportionate for your hand that it looked like made for it.

You inhaled deeply as you let out a soft sigh, tears started to surge from your eyes, a sense of loss taking over you.

A series of 'What if...?'s creeping into your mind like a snake into the little mouses's house.

You can't do it.

How could you?

It was not like he was divorced, he was a widower. He lost her, he lost his son.

Nothing you could ever do could replace her, nothing you could ever say. She was still alive for you, she was unbeatable like the art you saw tonight, she was perfect and idealised and you were human and flawed.

You almost didn't realise when tears were running down your cheeks freely, the sense of helplessness washing over you.

You didn't want to lose him, you loved him, but how could you ever leave a mark in his life when she was there?

"My love"

You jolted up as you felt Helmut's warm hands on your shoulders as he leaned above you standing from behind the couch.

"What happened?"

He asked as he moved around the couch to sit with you.

"No, it is nothing"

He stared at you titling his head on side "darling" he warned you, he hated lies.

"Helmut I.." you looked away to the screen like the people in there could tell you what to say "I don't know if I can marry you"

He opened his mouth, he looked like he didn't expect it, like he could face anything but that. He looked down at his own lap, for once speechless.

"Did I do anything that upset you?"

"No, of course not, the night was perfect"

"Is it because I want to get married in church? We can do the civil rite, we have time"

"No, no Helmut, it is not because of it"

"It is because of my past?"

"No"

You said but the sad twist into the corner of his mind meant that he captured the lie in that. You looked at him a bit upset, did he just pulled his military tricks on you?

"Look.."

"No" You interrupted him "It is not because of the terrorist attacks or the whole Avengers thing..."

He was really confused by now, his body wrapped into the night gown looked almost weak as you presented those doubts to him.

"It is you wife, Helmut"

You admitted it and as soon as you did you felt a new wave of tears rushing over you like a storm, you hiccupped as you tried to hide it and he frowned, lips pressing against each other tight.

“What about her?" You glared at him, you rarely did it but this time you had to.

You were mad he couldn’t understand your doubts and fears, he leaned his hand to touch yours and you slapped it away.

“Y/N” he begun taking a deep breath in “Heike is dead, she is not a threat toward you in any way. She lost her life cruelly and unrightfully, but that doesn’t make you different to my eyes”

You stared at him shaking your head

“She is perfect to your eyes Helmut” you said collecting the courage to speak up “She was the perfect mother to your perfect son, she was all kindness and being the exceptional baroness full of this and that…”

“Y/N”

“You destroyed the Avengers for her!”

You didn’t realised you shouted it in his face until you just did.

He looked at you, he could see what was going on now, he wondered what of all he did brought you to that point, and also, how could he not see it?

“It is true” he said “I destroyed them for her, they took away my family and I took away theirs. It was fair to me in some very cruel sense”

You opened your mouth and now he was the one blocking your words

“But” he looked at you taking a pause “she was not you and you are not her. She wasn’t perfect, she had her flaws like any human and my life was flawed in its own way. You’re not a second take, you’re not taking her place. I want you to be my wife. That’s it. Full stop. I want to be flawed with you, I want to make a life with you, maybe a family, if you’d like. But the truth is that I wouldn’t do it with anyone else but with you and in my eyes there’s nobody, and I repeat it, nobody that could compare with you”

His palm opened in front of you offering you to take his hand

“I just want the chance to make you happy, to call you mine officially in front of the world. I want you to have my name and my title, I want us to be a now but also a tomorrow, together”

He smiled at you, he looked so bare to your eyes, his heart almost visible to you through his words.

“I love you Y/N, I will love you no matter if you’d wear that ring”

You pushed his hand away and he looked at you afraid for a moment, his heart sinking down into his stomach, before you hugged him wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you too” you whispered.

He smiled wrapping his arms around you and he stayed like this, holding you, giving you a gentle squeeze as he buried his face against your neck.

Only the thought of losing you breaking his heart, if something ever happened to you the Avengers wouldn’t be able to detain him.

“My husband”you called his attention now “I am hungry”

He looked up at you as you said those words, the most genuine smile taking over his lips as he caressed your cheek pulling you closer into a kiss, sealing the end of your doubts with it.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme@thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl @obsidianlaszlo

Let me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

#helmut zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x bucky barnes #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x y/n #baron zemo x you #baron zemo fanfiction #baron helmut zemo x you #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #baron zemo

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