#still insecure but still to this day thought to be second fiddle to everyone else? Steph

[callsignspark]

Mar[r]y Me - part 8.5

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 2.3k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday! this is a short but sweet one! see here for my soft-tober announcement and here for a quick update on what's happening in the month of October! have a great weekend!

part 8.5 - McDonald's apple pie

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I’d never dream of it!”

Mary snuggles deeper into the couch as Pierce Brosnan - her favorite James Bond - races through the streets of Ho Chi Minh City on a motorcycle with Michelle Yeoh handcuffed to his wrist. Her chest hurts; tight from an overwhelming urge to cry and a tiredness she can’t quite shake no matter how much she’s been sleeping lately.

The day had been spent with Danielle and the kids, and it had been fun. They had gone to the beach and gotten Thai food for dinner, the adults devouring pad thai while Annabeth watched Frozen again. It was nice; she loved her family, but she missed Bradley.

More than she thought she would.

They didn’t get a chance to properly say goodbye. He had received a hug and the same “be safe, see you in two months” as everyone else. There wasn’t a spare second to sneak away and kiss him goodbye; there was always someone near them the entire time.

All she could do was slip a good luck note into the palm of his hand and hug him for an extra second longer than anyone else. It was hardly anything, but he still gave her a big smile and a sneaky forehead kiss, whispering that his peanut butter bites were safely stored at the bottom of his pack.

For the millionth time since she sat with Mav in her office and they watched the carrier steam away, Mary wonders where Bradley is. Thanks to her security clearance, she knows he's floating somewhere in the Pacific, but nothing more.

Maybe he’ll come back with an even deeper tan.

Somehow, Bradley is always sort of tan, even in January. Yes, they live in California, where it’s beach weather year-round, but it’s like he was born with a built-in base layer of golden skin.

Bond is just about to magically escape from another precarious situation he’s gotten himself into when the doorbell rings. Mary peeks over the top of the couch, trying to figure out who could be at her front door. Her family is in New York, Slider went back to Pensacola last week, and the majority of people she knows in California are also in the middle of the ocean with Bradley.

The bell rings again, whoever it is knocking this time. She sighs - they’re not going away - and frees herself from her perfectly crafted blanket burrito, a poor substitution for the pair of strong arms she’s missing.

Carefully peeking through the side window, she’s surprised to find Flora standing there and quickly opens the door, a blur of red and pink taking over her vision.

“Happy birthday!” Flora yells, shoving an enormous floral arrangement in her face.

“Than- thank you?”

Mary tentatively grabs the vase, taken off guard, as Flora walks in and slips her clogs off. Dropping her huge L.L. Bean tote bag on the dining room table, Flora laughs at how Mary is frozen at the front door, flowers hiding her torso but not her confused face.

“Here, give me those, and you open this.” Flora pulls a box out of her Mary Poppins-sized bag and takes the vase back. She carefully places the arrangement on the island, fiddling with the stems so they look perfect.

“What is happening?”

“Well, your boyfriend came into my shop about three weeks ago and asked me if I would do him a favor. He was so sweet and pathetic; I couldn’t help but say yes.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Funny.” Flora hums, eyebrow arching in disbelief. “I didn’t say a name, but you knew who I was talking about.”

Mary flushes, the tips of her ears on fire as she tries to stutter out an excuse.

“It’s okay, Mary.” Flora takes pity on her. “I know it’s complicated, but let’s face it, that man would do anything for you. Which is why I’m here, on a Sunday night, with gifts.”

“Gifts?” Mary echoes. “Plural?”

“Mmhm. First up, a floral arrangement full of warm tones because “red is her favorite color, but all red would probably be overbearing” - which is a direct quote.”

“They’re beautiful, Flora.”

“He did a good job, and he deserves a reward for understanding that flowers are expensive and you can’t cheap out if you want a nice, big bouquet. Next is the box.” She slides the brown box across the table, fluffing the ribbon curls on top. “I have no idea what’s in that one.”

Mary carefully opens the ribbons tied around the box, her throat tightening when she takes the lid off. At the top is a notecard with Bradley’s handwriting.

She pulls the sweater out of the box, and her eyes start to water as she holds it up for Flora to see. It’s a light yellow, almost the same shade as the stick of butter softening on her counter, practically identical to the one sitting in her closet, a red stain still covering the front. The material is so soft she can’t help but press her face into it, tears escaping as Bradley’s cologne washes over her.

Fuck. I miss him so much.

This was anticipated; she knows how sad Dani can get during Reuben’s deployments. Knows how sad she would get when her best friend was gone for months. It’s only been two weeks, but it’s the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other. Even during the rough patch in January, they still got glimpses of each other at work. The worst part is not knowing how he’s doing. If he’s okay. She assumes he is; Mav hadn’t mentioned anything, and she’s pretty sure he would tell her.

It would be the only way she would find out. Mary isn’t naïve enough to believe that she would be a first-tier point of contact if he got hurt. They haven’t even gone on a date yet, and the only time they kissed was that day in her office.

She’s pulled out of the impending spiral by a gentle hand rubbing her shoulders, which she didn’t realize were shaking. She lets herself be comforted by Flora, the older woman pulling her into a hug, uncaring about the tears staining her shirt.

“Sorry.” Mary sniffles, pulling back after a minute to wipe her eyes. “I just really miss him, more than I thought I would.”

“It’s okay, I get it.”

“That’s right. I forgot about Jake.”

She realizes she said something wrong by the way Flora’s hand goes stiff on her back.

“Jake and I are not together.”

“Oh. He just- when we were talking, he kinda implied that the two of you were sort of seeing each other.”

“We’ve fucked a few times, we're not together.”

Mary blinks at her. Jake had never said anything about sex; he was lamenting that Flora didn’t want to see a movie he was excited about. Sad that the florist wouldn’t join him.

“Jake, I mean, I don’t know Flora very well, but I gotta say she doesn’t really seem like a zombie apocalypse kinda girl.” Mary gently soothed, trying to give equal attention to her email inbox and the mopey Texan. “Why don’t you find a movie you’ll both like?”

“I tried! She doesn’t want to go to the movies at all. I know she’s busy - like she runs a whole ass business all by herself - but it’s like she doesn’t even care that we’re gonna be gone for two months!”

“Did you tell her that you want to spend time together before you leave?”

“No. We’re just- that’s not-” Jake sighs, cut off by Mary’s phone.

They had never finished their conversation; Jake had a hop and Mary a meeting, and a few days later, he was shipping out alongside Bradley.

“Okay. I’m sorry, he didn’t mention that, so I must have misunderstood.”

“You probably didn’t.” Flora rolls her eyes. “Jake likes to talk like we’re together, but I’ve told him several times a relationship is not what I’m looking for from him.”

“Can I ask why?” She quickly backtracks when the other woman’s face scrunches up. “Oh my god, you absolutely don’t have to say anything. I wasn’t trying to push.”

“No, you’re fine. Jake is a great guy. He’s smart and funny and handsome, but we want different things in life. Things that can’t be compromised on and that I won’t ever change my mind about. So there’s really no reason for us to try anything serious. I told him that before they deployed, but I’m officially breaking it off when they’re back because I’m not sure he got the hint.”

“That makes sense; that’s probably the best way to go about it.” She nods, impressed by how strong Flora is in her conviction and a bit sad at the same time. Those two would be great.

“Sucks, though. He’s incredible in bed.”

Mary lets out a bark of laughter at the complete 180 in conversation. “That surprises me and doesn’t surprise me all at the same time.”

“It’s that atrocious arrogance of his, isn’t it?”

“Yes! An ego like that means a man is either totally overcompensating, or he knows he’s good, and he’s got the moves to prove it.”

“Oh, he’s got the moves. Believe me.” They laugh at the eyebrow wiggle that accompanies Flora’s words.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta know. That ridiculous Texas accent he pulls out when he’s trying to charm someone-”

“-does he use it in bed? More frequently than you would imagine.”

“Okay… but, like, does it do it for you?”

“I plead the Fifth,” Flora says as she furiously nods.

“Stop! Wait! And the cowboy hat?”

She laughs harder, tears in her eyes as she gasps, “Both of us!”

“You’ve both worn it?!”

Flora’s confirmation makes them both howl with laughter, Mary bending over and holding onto the table for support. It takes a few minutes for them to calm down, wiping tears away as they catch their breath.

“Well, that’s got to be the least shocking thing I’ve learned about Jake.”

It makes them both start giggling again; the blonde man’s affinity for his home state is well-known, frequently coming up in conversation.

“I should get going. I have to be up early to set up for a funeral. But I have one more thing for you, well, two things.” Flora dips back into her bag, pulling out a brown paper bag and a square envelope. “From Bradley.”

“McDonald’s?”

“Well, he requested I get you an apple pie - it had to be an apple pie - from Sift, but by the time I got there this afternoon, all their pies were gone. So I improvised, and thankfully, Mickey D’s had just done a fresh batch.”

“Apple pie is my favorite.” Mary quietly says, peeking into the bag and seeing five pie boxes. “Thank you for doing this, Flora.”

“It’s no problem. Bradley was so cute when he came in; I couldn’t help but agree. It’s sweet how much he cares about you.”

“I’m starting to understand how much he really does.” A content feeling settles in her chest, warming her up from the cold sadness that was taking over earlier.

Only 60 more days until Bradley is home.

“You’ll probably want to warm those up before you eat them,” Flora says, slipping her shoes back on, getting ready to leave.

“Hey, we're having a girls' night and putting together care packages for the Daggers next week. You should come, you can help with Nat’s box. Plus, it’s great to have extra hands to help put them together.”

“That sounds fun; I’d love to join you guys.” She opens the door and hesitates for a second, turning back to Mary. “No one knows about me and Jake hooking up. I didn’t tell Nat because she wouldn’t understand, and I don’t think he’s told anyone either. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“No problem. I’m always here to talk if you want some fairly neutral input.”

“Fairly neutral?”

She shrugs. “I know he can be an idiot, but Jake is a good guy, and he’s also my friend, so I can’t be completely unbiased about him. Fairly neutral is the best I can offer.”

“Fair enough.” Flora smiles at her, yelling back as she walks down the steps. “We should grab dinner sometime! Have a good night!”

“Night!” Mary waves, happier than she’s been since the beginning of the month.

She locks the door after making sure Flora gets into her car safely, promising herself that she’ll reach out to friends more. No more moping around, being sad that Bradley is gone.

I’ve got to learn how to deal with this if we’re going to date. It’s not like he’s going to leave the Navy; he’s going to be gone.

Snapping photos of her presents, she starts mentally composing the thank you email she’s going to send to Bradley. The Lincoln is on a communications blackout for the first three weeks of the cruise, but she’s been sending him little updates. Letting him know when she’s thinking of him, hoping she isn’t filling up his inbox too much.

She plops back into her favorite corner of the couch, stretching out on the chaise that makes her get a little hot under the collar every time she sits on it.

“Let’s read this card.” She mumbles to herself around a bite of pie as Bond saves the world and gets the girl.

A photo flutters out of the envelope as she pulls the card out, and she loses her breath when she flips it over. It’s the two of them on Valentine’s Day. When she made him pancakes, the photo he said he was going to tape up in his bunk.

A promise he followed through on, his last text showing off his rack. Corners of the blue blanket neatly tucked in, and the photo of the two of them taped on the wall right next to his pillow. Mary looks at the photo he printed for her, smiling at the happiness radiating from both of them. The corners of their eyes crinkled, and her dimple popping out; she still can’t quite believe that Bradley Bradshaw wants her, of all people.

Then she reads the card, and her insecurities quiet down for the night.

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fic tag | credit for dividers here

[mountswhore]

𝐝𝐨𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 — jesse lingard

summary: jesse was afraid to lose you, but you have to reassure him that his money and fame mean nothing to you.

notes: requests are open, ask away!

for @bite-me-en-la-boca

Jesse was afraid to lose you, as simple as that. He wasn’t blind to the double takes people do when you walk past them, or the comments from men at the club when they pass. You were stunning — and Jesse knew that, along with everyone else.

Even his own friends would make little comments, obviously they knew they wouldn’t act on it, so did he, but his girlfriend was wanted by even his closest mates. It definitely made him hold onto you a little tighter. Whenever you’d visit him at training, or go to an event with him, he’d keep you close and constantly shower you in affection, so everybody knew you were his.

The Instagram comments were the worst, not only would his be littered with ‘she’s fit’ or ‘lucky man’, but yours were so vivid that you’d refuse to open them. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t scroll through them every once in a while to see what people were saying, only to return to you a while later with a heavy heart.

The whole of the UK male population were after you, which is why tonight was the worst for Jesse. You were celebrating Marcus’ birthday, and it was completely unlike him to want to go clubbing, but you both agreed anyway.

Jesse watched with a sick feeling in his stomach, almost feeling the need to grab his phone and text his best friend that he was too sick to go. And keep you at home. He knew what tonight would be like, he knew that someone would make a comment, or give you a suggestive glance, and it would ruin his night.

“How do I look?” You asked, smiling innocently up at your boyfriend. Even with heels on, he towered over you. Jesse pushed his negative thoughts to the side to compliment you.

“Wow. Where’s Y/N gone?” He asked, holding your hand and twirling you around slowly. You met his eyes once again with a pout, and Jesse kissed it away. There was never a day he didn’t compliment you on your beauty.

“Real funny. Are you ready?”

“Do I look ready?” Jesse countered, standing back from you and showing off his smart casual attire. You laughed and smoothed the fabric of his shirt down, smiling up at him. He looked back down at you with so much love in his eyes, you’d forget he was hiding his intrusive thoughts behind those eyes.

The pair of you left, getting an Uber to the club you were supposed to arrive at 20 minutes ago. Marcus was waiting inside, sitting in a booth with a few other United boys. The second Marcus spotted you, he moved out of the booth to greet you both.

“Jess,” Marcus spoke, pulling his best friend into a hug, “how’ve you been?”

Jesse just nodded, watching his attention divert from him to you. He squeezed you tightly and almost lifted you from your feet. He knew Marcus would never betray him like that, no matter how hot you were. He trusted Marcus entirely, but it was just adding fuel to the fire. Jesse felt tense from the moment he entered the club, the boys greeting you and having a laugh with you. It was off-putting, he just wanted to go home and watch your rubbish tv. He’d sit through hours of it if it meant you weren’t here getting preyed on.

Throughout the night, you’d had shot after shot, begging Jesse to dance with you an hour in. And he was keeping you close to him, eyes watching intently as you swayed your hips onto him. Your eyes were on him the entire time, not paying mind to the people around you. Jesse so badly wanted to enjoy this moment with you, but those eyes surrounding you were slowly pushing him over the edge.

“What the fuck are you staring at?” He snapped, causing a small space to form between the pair of you. You stepped back in shock, staring at your boyfriend who angrily stared at the people surrounding you.

His eyes had found yours again, but you were gone. You’d approached the booth Marcus was sitting at, wedging between him and Jadon, a frown on your face.

“What happened, Y/N?” Marcus questioned, an arm around your shoulder as you looked visibly upset. You saw Jesse sat at the bar now, head in his hands with a drink in front of him.

“He just shouted in front of everyone, it’s so embarrassing.” You stated, folding your arms and stealing a drink from the table. You didn’t know who the victim of the stolen drink was, quite frankly, you didn’t care. Jesse had bursted his anger in front of everyone, and even though it wasn’t directed at you, it still embarrassed you.

The next half hour was torture, you were slowly losing your buzz and the night was becoming boring. You were sandwiched between the two boys, and they refused to let you have any more drinks. Jesse was still sulking at the bar, but you didn’t care. You’d let him sulk there for the remainder of the evening, if need be.

“Guys, I think I might head home,” you mentioned, standing up and wiggling over the line of boys, “I’m super tired now.” You waved sweetly at Marcus, wishing him one more ‘happy birthday’ before you were leaning against the wall and waiting for your Uber.

Jesse looked back at the booth, wondering which boy had an arm around you this time, but you were gone. The space between Marcus and Jadon that you occupied had now disappeared. His eyes frantically searched the dance floor, but you were nowhere to be seen. It was only then that he started to regret shouting. He could lie and say he didn’t know what came over him, but he did know. He was jealous.

“She’s gone home.” Marcus spoke into his friend’s ear, patting him on the shoulder. It eased Jesse’s thoughts a little, but he still felt horrible. Jesse had gotten an Uber home not long after you, finding the house completely dark apart from your shared bedroom.

You were tucked into bed, Netflix in the background as you scrolled through your phone. You could see Jesse standing in the doorway, but didn’t acknowledge him as he walked in and sat on your side of the bed. His hand rested on the lump in the duvet that was your leg, waiting for you to say something. But you didn’t.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out, his voice soft with guilt. You didn’t even react, you just kept scrolling. “Really, I am. I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

“It’s done now, you need to go to bed. You have Hope tomorrow.” You replied, a lack of emotion in your voice. He knew you loved when Hope was round, the pair of you got on immensely. But you seemed bored now. Bored of listening to him. You had gotten out of bed and left the room, wandering downstairs to distract yourself with something else.

“It’s not done, babe.” Jesse spoke, following your footsteps as you turned into the kitchen. You stood at the counter, grabbing a coffee pod from your cupboard and beginning to make yourself a coffee.

“What else do you want to say, Jesse?” You argued calmly, Jesse almost jumping at the mention of his name. It was always silly pet names, never his name. He could see by the look on your face that you were over this, you were tired, grumpy, getting slightly hungover.

“I know I should never have shouted like that, in front of everyone,” he spluttered, alcohol still in his system. His words were not stringing together very well, which presented a bad case on his behalf, “the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you because of my own insecurities.”

Jesse wasn’t the type to show his insecurities to anyone, not even you at times, but you knew they were there. He was stuck in the mindset of sweeping them away, out of sight and out of mind. You wanted to badly to help him work through them like he did with yours, but he’d never disclose what was bothering him. You turned to look at him, the argument long forgotten now as you wanted this to be the chance he finally opens up.

“What insecurities, Jess?” You wondered, slowly approaching him. Your small hands held his cheeks, you could’ve sworn you’d seen a glint in his eyes.

He shook his head, the window now closed. The opportunity for the pair of you to sit down and talk about what bothered him, it was gone. You were back to pretending not to see his tensed jaw and white knuckles from squeezing his fist together. You sat at the island in defeat, your headache prominent now.

Jesse’s hand fell upon your shoulder, your eyes meeting once again. Your face contorted as a tear fell from your eye, Jesse now going into full on panic mode. He sat beside you, pulling you into his chest and holding you close. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest, you weren’t the only one who wished he could say how he felt.

“How are we ever going to move forward together if I don’t know how you’re feeling?” You asked honestly, holding his bare arm and pulling it close to you. There would always be this barricade stopping you from moving forward, his insecurities stopping you both from being able to talk to each other.

Jesse pulled away from you, his fingers fiddling with the expensive ring on your finger. He’d gifted it to you on your two-year anniversary, it was a beautiful night. “I just get jealous. I see your Instagram comments, and mine. I see the way random men look at you on the street, in the club, in the fucking supermarket. Even the boys are always complimenting you, being touchy with you. It might sound stupid and it might seem like it’s nothing, but it makes me fucking jealous.”

“You know I’d never do that to you,” you turned to Jesse, now clutching his hand tightly, “you’re the only one I want.”

“I know that, love. I have been fucked around before, girls always go after my money and my name. You don’t even shoo these boys away. It’s like you enjoy their attention.” Jesse accused, his tone still soft with you. He never raises his voice with you, and you never have with him.

This comment hurt you, your waterline burned with tears once again, hearing your boyfriend even fathom these ideas. “I don’t pay these boys any mind. You’re the only one I want attention from, I barely give the rest of them a second glance. And I’m sorry that your friends are touchy with me, I just give them lots of hugs and squeezes because they’re your friends, I want them to like me. I know how important they are to you. So they’re important to me.”

Even though Jesse thought you liked the attention, and wanted him for his name and wealth, even though it deeply pained you for him to think these things of you, you kept it cool. He was hurting, these were his insecurities. You looked up at him, giving him your infamous doe eyes, the ones he fell for in the first place.

“If I only wanted you for your wealth and name, I wouldn’t bother with Hope. I love that girl, she’s my best friend. I’d do anything for her,” Jesse smiled at your comment, his hand smoothing over your cheek, “I wouldn’t bother with your family, I wouldn’t call them up everyday asking how they are. I wouldn’t bother with your career, making sure your training kit is washed and you have appropriate lunch.” You emphasised the word appropriate, as Jesse would sometimes leave with just one of Hope’s lunchables, or just a yoghurt.

Jesse let out a laugh, both hands now holding your face close to his. “Thank you. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“I won’t take your name when we get married, just to prove that I’m not in it for fame and wealth,” you admitted, a smile on your face, “I don’t know how you do it if I’m honest, you can’t even walk around the shop without someone approaching you. It’d get on my nerves.”

“Of course you’re gonna take my name,” Jesse cooed, kissing the bridge of your nose and looking down at you once more, “and you better get used to it, because I’m not giving you up.” He held you tight to him, the both of you still reeking of alcohol and the coffee long forgotten.

[captains-simp]

hi can i request a yelena belova x fem!reader for Angst. it’s prompt 8) "Don't you fucking lie to me."

and can it please have a happy ending and maybe a little dash of fluff. thank you!!

You betcha I can

"Don't you fucking lie to me."

Warnings: suggestive themes and relationship insecurities

2k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yelena was never someone who was particularly open about her relationships. She wasn't really an open person at all; you were one of the few who was blessed to be allowed access to what she kept hidden from others. You just didn't think you were one of the things she kept hidden.

You had been dating Yelena for a few months and had known her for a lot longer. You were friendly with the people she was close with, just as she was yours, but neither of you had ever properly gotten to know them.

It wasn't deliberate. It was just that you and Yelena treasured the time you got together (as it could sometimes be limited) and got so caught up in each other's company you forgot about everyone else.

But as time went on you started to think more about the kind of relationship you had with each other's friends and even family. You wanted to show her off to the whole world sometimes.

You brought that up with her one night and she surprised you by telling you she had told her friends and Natasha about you dating. You were so overjoyed at the thought that Yelena told people about you you didn't stop to question why you hadn't been interrogated by her sister or some of the Avengers. They were fiercely protective. You concluded one night that they simply trusted you and didn't feel the need to say anything. Oh how you were wrong.

You grinned into Yelena's neck as you heard her gasp from your teeth grazing her skin. Her hands gripped onto your stomach as her head tilted back more, granting you further access to her neck before you ventured lower to make marks along her collarbone. She had always been insistent that you couldn't mark anywhere visible, making up some excuse about her missions.

Both your shirts had been discarded prior when you had straddled your girlfriend's lap to advance your make out session.

Yelena's hands reached around you to unclasp your bra but froze when there was a sudden knock from the door that snapped her out of her gaze. You were a little less quick to catch on, not being that bothered about it as you were still in the safety and privacy of Yelena's appartment.

You were thankful for Yelena stopping when the door swung open and the person on the other side of the door stepped in without invitation.

You were in a slight comfused daze when Yelena pulled you rather roughly from her lap and onto the space beside her on the couch and threw your top at you as she stood up to meet her sister.

"What's the point in knocking if you're going to come in uninvited anyway?" Yelena demanded as she pulled her own top back on, her accent stronger than ever.

But Natasha didn't answer her sister or even look at her. Her eyes were locked on you with a look that could kill. You shifted uncomfortably under her gaze and looked to your girlfriend for assurance except she wouldn't meet your eye.

"Sorry for interrupting," Nat said in a very unapologetic tone, "but it's an emergency." Was all she said as continued to look at you like you had just punched Yelena.

You looked to your girlfriend again but she simply nodded and got her jacket off the back of the couch and slipped it on.

"Sorry." She said to the spot on the couch she had just been. "You can stay the night still if you want." Natasha audibly scoffed and crossed her arms but Yelena continued. "Or just lock up whenever you go." She shrugged as she turned around to head out the door.

You opened your mouth to say something but instantly stopped when you became acutely aware of Natasha still burning holes into the side of your head.

Yelena started down the corridor outside the appartment leaving you with Nat for a few painful seconds. She gave you the once over with a hurtful look before turning sharply to follow after her sister and slamming the door behind her.

You sat there for a minute staring at the door before you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You tried to analyse what had happened but you couldn't figure out what the hell you had done.

*

You didn't have to wait long to understand why Natasha acted the way she did. The sane time the next day you heard a knock at your door as you were washing up your plate from dinner.

You expected it to be Yelena. You hadn't heard from her since she had to leave with Natasha.

When you opened the door you almost slammed it shut out of fear but didn't doubt that the readhead would break it down if you did so. She stepped into your appartment as soon as there was space to do so, her eyes never leaving you.

"So you...dealt with that emergency?" You asked timidly as you fiddled with the edge of your shirt.

"That's confidential." She said as her pose became more rigid. "Why were you with Yelena last night?" She demanded without hesitation.

"We were hanging out." You replied after a moment of silence. You didn't understand why Natasha wanted to know that when that was what couples generally did.

You moved over to your kitchen so you could do something and not feel as awkward standing around, the Russian was quick to follow right behind.

"Looked like a little more than that." You drained the water in the sink as you gave Natasha a baffled look but instantly looked away from her challenging eyes.

"Probably would have been." You said honestly. That clearly wasn't the right answer. But it was the truth and surely that was what Nat wanted. You weren't about to lie to the ex-assassin.

"Are you fucking my sister?" Venom dripped from her voice and you found yourself taking a cautious step back.

"Well I...I guess that that's partly..." You stammered. Natasha clearly wasn't liking what she heard and that wasn't helping your confusion at all.

"Partly. So you're fucking other people too?"

"W-what?! God, no! I would never do that." You defied as you got a spark of courage. Unfortunately Natasha didn't seem convinced. "I could never cheat on Yelena." You said as you finally met the redhead's eye.

"Cheat?" Natasha questioned slowly, her brow furrowing in the confusion you had been feeling all day.

"I wouldn't." You said again, still holding her gaze.

"Are you...dating?" She asked as her stance softened ever so slightly.

"She didn't...she didn't tell you?" You almost whispered, already knowing the answer but hoping it wasn't true.

"She did not." Nat confirmed as she let her confusion show and her interrogating stance and tone slip away.

You turned around and pretended to busy yourself with something in the cupboards as you felt tears threatening to form. Your heart stung as you realised why she never let you leave marks or have dinner with the Avengers.

"I thought she did." You said quietly, willing Natasha's presence away so you could be alone. You didn't have the energy to be questioned anymore.

"I need to go." She said after a moments silence and headed towards the door. You didn't say anything else to her as she left. As soon as you heard the door shut considerably gently you rested you head in your hands and gave a shaky breath.

Is she ashamed of me? Is she planning to break up. Maybe she's only staying out of pity. Were some of the things racing around your head as you finally began to cry.

*

You didn't reply to Yelena's texts the next day. You saw that she was okay and everything was taken care of and that was enough. You were still trying to figure out what you would say to her when you saw her again.

The absence of checking her messages meant you didn't see ones that became frantic. Those were sent after Natasha confronted her sister and gave her a talking to about secrets. Yelena was desperate to explain everything to you and when you didn't pick up her calls or answer her texts she knew she would have to talk to you properly.

You ignored the first knock at the door. You almost rolled your eyes when you thought about how things played out the last couple times you heard that sound. Hearing Yelena's voice made you react differently.

"I know you're in there." Yelena called. "Please let me explain." She continued before knocking again when she got no answer. "Y/n, please." Your stubborness was replaced by your need for answers so you got up and unlocked the door for Yelena.

She smiled at you gratefully when you stepped aside to let her in but faltered when she saw that you only looked to the floor.

"Your sister came round." You said as you closed the door. "But I guess you know that."

"Yeah, we talked." Yelena said as you moved to the couch and she followed.

"I don't think she likes me very much." You half joked as you remembered the way she looked at you two nights prior.

"No she just-"

"Didn't know we're dating?" You finished as you looked at Yelena with hurt eyes.

"She didn't, no." She admitted guiltily.

"Are you ashamed of me?" You asked as a tear formed in your eye. Yelena's eyes widened and she tried to hold your hand in reassurance but you pulled it out of her reach.

"No! Y/n, no I swear I'm not." She said quickly with a look of desperation that you just couldn't believe. Not after a day of questioning as much as you did.

"Don't you fucking lie to me." You snapped as tears streamed down your face.

"I'm not." Yelena continued to reach out for you and when you moved away she kept going until she managed to get your hand and hold it in two or hers. "Please listen to me." She begged, it was a side of her you had never seen. That alone was what made you faulter.

"I'm not ashamed of you. I could never be. I'm proud to be able to say that you're my girlfriend and I don't know how to express that I..." She paused as a flash of anxiety crossed her eyes. You sat listening intently.

"I don't want that to change. It might sound cowardly but you saw how Natasha was. I don't want them to scare you off because they damn well could. They don't realise how they are, I don't want them to be dismissive of you, not when I care so much about you. What if they make you doubt us? I don't want to loose you, I can't...I..." Yelena was breathing heavily as she stared down at your entwined hands.

"I love you." She admitted. Your breath caught in your throat as you heard her words. You searched her face for any signs of a lie and found none.

"You...you do?" You still asked.

"I do, so much." She smiled and you couldn't help but do the same thing.

"I love you too." You admitted making Yelena's whole face light up.

She pulled you towards her and enveloped you in a tight hug that she never wanted to let go. "And I'm not going anywhere." You assured as you clung onto her.

"I'll talk to Nat." She finally said and you smiled into her.

"Okay."

"And we'll do this properly." She assured as she kissed the top of your head making you smile even more.

"Okay."

[mrskurono]

Schweiden Sex Education: Intercourse || Wakatoshi Ushijima x Fem!Reader

Tags: mention of insecurities, vaginal penetration, slight size kink, soft sex, creampie, sex bruh

Character(s): Wakatoshi Ushijima (hq)

Word Count: 2.2k

a/n: this will be the final installment of this mini series, ngl it ended up more popular and more touchy feely than I thought it would. thank you everyone for reading <3

part (1) (2)

inter·course /ˈin(t)ərˌkôrs/

noun; sexual contact between individuals involving penetration

“Do you hate her?”

Ushijima blinked a handful of times at the voice going unregistered to him. Korai of course had to repeat himself.

“Do you hate our manager or something?” The second to newest Schweiden member craned his neck around to look at the same lady talking with the captain, “I mean...even since I started last season it seems like it but I dunno, do you just hate her or something?”

No longer the new guys, Ushijima still felt confused on what his teammate meant, “Why would you say that? I’ve never said that.”

Korai shrugged. White haired man taking the ball from his bigger mates grasp and chucking the volleyball at the real newbie coming into the gym when Tobio arrived. Korai gut laughed when the dark haired man didn’t catch it and only wasted a little more time before wiping at his eyes to look back at Ushijima with what he’d just said, “You spend so much time staring at her. Thought maybe you hated it her since never talked to her.”

Ushijima’s brows pinched in the middle with the deepest furrow, “I never said I hated anyone.”

Once more with a shrug Korai figured he’d drop it, “Well man, if you don’t hate her. You must have one hell of a crush on her then.”

The word rung in his head when you said it.

Sex.

You were naked under him. Rightfully so after his first attempt to bring you, or any woman, to an orgasm. He should feel proud if not a little smug. All he felt was nervous. 

“Ok....sex,” You inhaled deeply now that most of your senses was collected. The real thing felt a lot different than your own hand and the same scenario being lit up on the tiny screen of your phone. Slight tingle from that orgasm you were wondering if you had been that hard up for a hook up. Dashing that from your mind you refocus on the Schweiden player before you, “I mean...I guess there’s not a lot to say about it. I’m sure you’ve seen porn or Korai I’m pretty sure played something off of Pornhub in the locker room at least once.”

That light anecdote didn’t seem to tear the man’s concentration away from you. Leaving you to wiggle a bit and get higher up on the bed. Thinking maybe he was going to follow. Ushijima remained staring at you with that all too familiar look on his face. A look you recall years worth of seeing from across the gyms at practice.

Without warning it dawns on you, maybe he doesn’t actually want to have sex with you. A feeling nothing short of claustrophobic when it hits you. The tingle you’ve felt since the locker room fizzles out with vigor. You’re exposed. Silly. Regretful. Suddenly to recount your words.

“I mean-” You stumble over words falling from your lips while looking up at him and trying to cover some part of you, “We don’t have to- Um Ushiwa- Uh Ushijima- I uh it’s fine if you don’t want to we can just forget this-”

“I don’t hate you.”

The slur of words from your mouth catch. His surprising you more. You stop trying to cover yourself with what little blanket you can up root. Instead your brows furrow uncharacteristically at him at the foot of the bed.

“What?”

Olive eyes dropping from you it’s the first time since he joined three years ago that you saw him actually break eye contact first. You’re nothing short of surprised when Ushijima, still naked, sits back on the edge of the bed. Easing up on the need to cover yourself. You realize he’s talking about something entirely different.

Brows pinched together you ask again what he meant. Crawling towards him now. Kneeling beside him unsure if you should lay a hand on him or something. His face seems complacent like normal but with the way he sounded. It just didn’t sound right to you.

Ushijima lifts his gaze to meet your naked body right next to his. Of course he couldn’t tear them away from your form before him. All those times he’d stared at you over the years. Only now realizing he’d been trying to think what you looked like in this exact light.

“...I...Korai thought I hated you,” He confesses in the weirdest manner. Finding the one thing he couldn’t take his eyes off of wasn’t your naked body. But your face, “I don’t....I never did. I just- I think I love you and it might have been my fault if I-”

Cut off directly by the feeling of your lips against his. There’s a spilt second the man doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Only to be thankful when he felt your hands gently take his and place them on your sides. Getting the gesture Ushijima curled his broad arms around your bare waist just as you curled your own arms around his neck. Delaying the need for a breath in the passionate kiss until finally neither of you could hold out.

“Lets make love instead,” You mutter against his lips. Feeling for the first time Ushijima trying to push back into the kiss like he wasn’t ready for it to end just yet. Drawing your fingers down from the nape of his neck. Small circles over his collar bone to dip down between his well defined chest, you look up at him and smile, “...because I think I might be in love with you.”

Nothing short of a glimmer in the otherwise deadpan expression. Ushijima for the first time since the locker roomer took a kiss from you. Not just taking it. He downright kissed you back into the middle of the bed. Lips never leaving yours it was barely any fumbling as he scooped his big hands under your bottom and pulled you into his hips. Leaving you to hold onto his shoulders as the urgency of the kiss translated over to your movements together.

Sooner than later you felt his cock rub against your inner thigh. Only breaking the kiss enough as you kissed his cheek and the corner of his mouth with a breathy whisper, “Put it in...please, I want you to do it.”

Nodding there wasn’t a question to be asked. Ushijima understood more than anything where he wanted his cock to go. You telling him only sealed the fact he craved no one else.

Gripping his cock there’s a second when you adjust your hips and allow his length to slip up between your soaked folds. Earning a pleasant moan to bubble up between your lips. Any other time you might have been worried to take someone so big. But that was the last thing in your mind right now. Consumed with need all you could think of was the stretch of his cock inside you.

Rewarded with the real thing faster than anything else. You gasp. Making him stop half way to which you panic and tell him through a loud moan to keep going. Ushijima can’t stop but sink his thick cock down to the base in your sopping wet cunt. Nothing he could even imagine prepared him for this.

“W-Warm-” The low rumble of a moan echoed in his chest. Ushijima unsure what to do pushed his lips back onto yours. Just the way your walls clenched around him and you engulfed his senses was ethereal to him.

“Move....how you wanna,” You whisper against his lips, “I want you to fuck me like you’ve been wanting to all these years.”

There was hesitation. You were right he had seen porn and what they did. But none of that seemed desirable. Right now all he wanted to do was feel you. Consume you. Make every fiber of his being tingle with your body.

Slow to start Ushijima began rocking his hips into yours. Each movement earning more than just a lowly moan from you. Assured that it was wonderful by your praise and touching all over him. Soon it became a need for him to snap his hips into yours. Watch you squirm under him, mouth agape and eyes locked onto him. Everything intoxicating to every single sense the man had.

“ ‘gonna cum-” You bite back a moan as your hips bounce with each forceful thrust, “I- I think I’m gonna cum-”

“Please-” Ushijima buried his face into the crook of your neck, panting, thrusts hard and deep as he felt himself approaching a familiar feeling, “Please cum- I want you-”

Tongue gliding over your parted lips and swallowing the knot in your throat. It’s nothing like the knot growing in your stomach. Boxed in completely by the enormous man above you. It’s hardly possible to snake your hand down to your clit. But when you do your free hand gripes the back of his neck as your fingers dance around your already sensitive bud, “I- It’s too much- Fuck-”

For a split second he wonders what is too much but that is dashed when the shudder in your body starts at your toes and every inch of you twitches under him. Sealing the deal for Ushijima when he feels nothing short of heaven when your cunt tightens around him in a way no mouth or hand could ever mimic. All that stamina in the world for nothing when he pushes his hips into yours. Desperate to follow your lead.

Rutting into you as deep as he can until the warm gush of cum overflows into your cunt. You’d never felt anything so intimate yet even as his lips found yours to kiss you. The twitch of Ushijima’s cock with each spurt of cum had you moaning into the kiss like a virgin all over again. 

Both of you breathing harder than expected into the kiss. Finally came down from the high. His cock still buried in you and most of your body limp under him. You take a moment to swallow as you look up at the man before you. This time he was staring but you didn’t feel the need to turn away. Instead you smiled at him with a little giggle. And for the first time in nearly four years, Ushijima smiled back at you.

Minor Epilogue ;|

“Where’s Ushiwaka?” Korai dribbled the volleyball as he looked back towards the locker room.

Tobio looked up from his bottle after fiddling with the lid, “Hirugami didn’t say anything?”

White brows pinched together Korai bounced the ball as high as he could manage and huffed, “This is day three! He’s late and we get to wait for him!”

“You could just practice with Romeo and Sokolov before he comes.” Tobio offered without much concern as he grabbed the volleyball before Korai could catch it.

“Don’t break the lights Hoshiumi!” Hirugami shouted across the gym as he caught sight of one of the second youngest Schweiden harassing the volleyballs.

Grumbling to himself Korai snatched the ball back from Tobio, “Of course Hirugami-san!” Content with dribbling the ball at a much more manageable height, Korai looked around for a short stint at attendance, “You notice our manager has been late recently too?”

“And?” Tobio shouldered his duffel bag without a chance of even feigning interest in his teammates rant.

Brows still pinched Korai glared out at the double doors of the Schweiden’s gym, “I bet they’re hooking up. I bet- Look!” Korai skidded to a stop mid sentence when through the double doors it was the late Schweiden in question. Undoubtedly with their manager at his side. Like a detective Korai pounced on the chance to interrogate them but that was lost among the chaos when all of the Scweiden team witnessed Ushijima lean down and give their ever so wonderful team manager a kiss on the lips.

That’s when all insanity broke loose. 

Korai was on them like stink on shit. Tobio and Toshiro ready to intercept Korai before his rabid-ness scared the new love birds away. Tatsuto wanting a better look at the drama amongst the crew. Leaving Fukuro and Nicollas to exchange glances at each other as they hoisted up the volleyball net.

“Is that Ushijima and y/n?” Nicollas peered over to the bustling drama at the front of the gym.

Fukuro, minding his own business, nodded, “Think they’ve been going out for a while now.”

Smiling as Ushijima’s face seemed stone serious as ever and y/n’s face flush red as the white haired Schweiden had some serious question, Nicollas laughed as remembered that feeling, “Ah young love....wish there was an educational course one could take when learning the affairs of the heart.”

Fukuro snort laughed and tightened the bindings on the net they’d be using for practice if they ever stopped their gawking, “Yeah, we call that sex ed here.”

Nicollas chuckled when he saw their lovely manager punch Korai in the side. Revealing the oddest sight of Ushijima smiling ever so slightly on his stoic features while the rest of the Scweiden’s rallied around the new couple as the two seniors could only stand back and laugh, “Sex and love education....I think we could all use that.”

a/n: The end is finally here! Honestly I can’t believe I’ve actually finished a series in the first place! To everyone who’s read and supported it thank you from the bottom of my heart. This was too much fun to write and I won’t lie I might have a little soft spot in my heart for Ushijima now <3

[pies-writes-and-more]

HIHIHI I HAVE A REQUEST IF YOURE UP FOR IT KASJHDASKD i was wondering if you could do tsukishima, akaashi, and kageyama (you dont have to do all of them if you dont want to) with a s/o who loves giving affection but doesn't really take it *seriously* when they recieve it? like they think that the character is joking bc they could never actually be that amazing? (sry if this made absolutely no sense just ignore it if you want kaskjasd)

Warnings: potentially some swearing, Akaashi saying “good girl” which I do think deserves a warning, Y/N having some insecure moments, but all fluffy endings promise!

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji, & Kageyama Tobio, all with a fem!Reader

A/N: okay @lucyheartfilias-wife i know this took foREVER for me to finish and I’m so sorry xD but i kept going back and forth between ideas so this is what we ended up with! I hope they’re decent enough!! <3 Not of the following gifs are mine! Creds to the original creators :)

Haikyuu Masterlist

Tsukishima Kei

If Tsukishima knew one thing, it was that he was a lucky boy. Somehow he had managed to make a girl who was probably made of sunshine and rainbows, like him back and somehow figured out how to keep you around.

Although he always had an annoyed look on his face when they did, anytime the team asked about you or mentioned you to him, he was always happy to subtly brag about you.

“Our little Tsukishima has grown up hasn’t he?” Sugawara laughed, slapping pats to the back of the tall first year. “You’re not blackmailing her are you?” Tsukishima just rolled his eyes in response.

“It must be nice to have such a pretty girl around!” Noya whined loudly, punching the wall angrily.

“It is,” Tsukishima smirked, enjoying the immediate anger that Noya tried to turn on him. Daichi held the wild libero back with an exasperated smiled, shaking his head.

“She’s really smart too isn’t she?” Hinata gaped, having only really heard of this girl that Tsukishima was dating but Yamaguchi said it was a girl in their class so she had to be smart.

“Anyone’s smart compared to you,” Tsukishima scoffed but shrugged. “She’s the top of our class.”

Everyone made sounds of excitement and surprise, the upperclassmen nodding in approval, “Who knew this salty bean pole could find someone smart and pretty to like him back?” Tanaka snickered and Tsukishima just rolled his eyes.

You hadn’t meant to overhear the conversations happening in the club room but you were just waiting for your boyfriend against the railing. To say you were a bit embarrassed was an understatement. And that embarrassment was probably written all over your face because when Tsukishima finally came out, his cheeks turned pink seeing your expression.

“What?” He asked after a beat, avoiding your eyes as he started to walk towards the stairs.

“You know you don’t have to lie to your teammates right?” You asked him eventually, giving him a small smile. “I’m sure they know you’re just being nice.”

For once, you had actually surprised Tsukishima. Normally he could tell exactly what you were thinking but this time, he actually stopped in his steps and looked at you like you had grown a second head in the last few moments.

“Lie?” He asked, tilting his head up in thought before scoffing a bit, “What part of what I said was a lie? For that matter, how much of that nonsense did you hear?”

The word nonsense rang in your ear repeatedly, echoing all your insecurities further into your subconscious, “I dunno, how much were you saying?” You retorted, glancing at him with a shrug. “Come on, I wanna get home before it gets too dark,” you decided when he didn’t answer right away. The two of you started walking, Tsukishima clearly deep in thought because for once on your way home, he wasn’t complaining about the boys or listening to music. He was just… walking.

“When did I lie?” He finally asked at your doorstep, as if realizing if he didn’t ask now, he never would. He grabbed your wrist before you could turn away and leave without answering him, tugging you closer so he could look right into your eyes (he could always tell when you were lying to him).

“What?” You squirmed a bit. You knew exactly what he was asking but did you really want to admit it?

“You said I lied to my teammates. What did I lie about?” His frown was tight, eyes as serious as ever. “I’ve been thinking about everything I said to them and I can’t think of a lie that I told. Was it about everyone being smarter than Hinata? Because I really was telling the truth.” The little smirk at the end made you feel like he was trying to keep this lighthearted. But the topic weighed so heavily on both your shoulders.

You could feel Tsukishima keeping your gaze right on him, and knew if you looked away, he might just get more upset. So you were forced to just look at him awkwardly, as if he was looking through your very thoughts.

“I asked you out didn’t I?” He continued when you didn’t respond right away. “Doesn’t that make you my girlfriend?”

You let out a little laugh, surprised that that’s what he had come up with after that very silent walk home. “Yeah, I suppose so,” you smiled, finally pulling your eyes away from him and staring at your hands as you fiddled with your fingers.

“So what-”

“They’re just being nice,” you tried to tell him awkwardly, cutting him off from asking one more time. “I’m not… I’m not everything they’re pretending I am. And you don’t have to keep up the charade with them.”

Tsukishima’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, what charade could you possibly be talking about.

“I know I’m not as pretty as your managers,” you explained quietly. “And I’m sure being surrounded by them all the time has got you having some high expectations and standards for girls. That’s why I was surprised when you asked me out… but I know it’s probably just cause we’re always together and we study together. I know I’m pretty helpful when it comes to schoolwork so-”

Tsukishima started laughing. Like genuinely, throwing his head back, from the bottom of his belly kind of laugh. Your eyes widened as you watched this normally cool and collected idiot snicker himself practically to death.

“T-Tsukishima?” You blinked, poking him a little to make sure he wasn’t just having some sort of weird seizure.

He finally ran out of breath, standing back up straighter than ever and hitting the top of your head (not as gently as he should’ve, how rude), “Listen here, shortie,” he huffed, leaning down slightly so you were forced to look at him. “I have high standards for anyone I even keep around me. The only one who’s exceeded my standards for dating though, is you.”

You watched him, blinking nervously as if he was going to laugh in your face again and tell you it was a joke.

“I didn’t lie to them, idiot,” he shook his head, flicking your forehead. “You’re way too pretty to be as self-conscious as you are.”

Words would never solve your self-consciousness, you knew this. But if there was ever a moment that would ever come close - it would be this one.

“Go inside alright,” he grinned at you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead and shoving you closer to your door. “And the next time I compliment you, you better accept it.”

You couldn’t even retort anything back before he ushered you inside, gave you a cheeky wink, and started to head home.

You were still very bad at accepting Tsukishima’s compliments and almost felt tortured with how much he could try to get you to understand how much he loved you. So naturally, Tsukishima just did it more and more.

Everything you did became a compliment, just to make you all hot headed and make him chuckle. He would praise you for being one of the smartest people he knew after a test or assignment, he’d say you were the cutest person up on the stands after his volleyball games, would just shower you in aggressive amounts of affection (well aggressive for him).

And then one day…

One day you day you didn’t fight back as much. And Tsukishima just smiled because he would never say anything to you he didn’t mean.

Akaashi Keiji

Akaashi was literally an embodiment of everything that someone could want. He was calm and wonderfully humble, his voice was like a mellow song that you could fall asleep to and he had the most amazing biceps that just made your heart flutter every time you saw them.

He was everything you could ever dream of which was both incredible… and not at the same time. It almost hurt to know that he was this unobtainable boy standing near you. Sure, you were dating - but how long until he realized you were beneath him? How much longer would it take him to realize that there was better.

You couldn’t hide these thoughts from Akaashi and more often than not, he’d give you a look like I know what you’re thinking, stop that, and then tell you he loves you before you just nod and smile and try to focus on something else. He’d let it go there, but he’d probably spend the rest of the day with you trying to convince you he really meant it.

But today he wasn’t next to you to read your face. Today, he was going to be down on that court, showing off his incredible reflexes and sports ability, and you would be up here. Blending in with the crowd. You were a filler character - something to fill the stands with and not be noticed. Unoriginal. Boring.

“Y/N!” Bokuto ran to you, grinning as wide as ever. “Look what I brought you!” He held up Akaashi’s jacket happily, waving it over his head as he jumped up and down in front of you.

You tried to put on a smile, as if you hadn’t just been spinning in your insecurities a few seconds ago. Your eyes focused on the jacket that Bokuto was trying to put on you, blinking as you came to the realization that he had 100% stolen this from your boyfriend without his knowledge, “Bokuto, won’t he need this?” You offered with a small laugh.

He shook his head with a grin, “He practically discarded it somewhere. I thought I’d come bring it to you! It would probably make him super happy to see you in his jacket! And you look so cute in our colours!” Bokuto declared, patting your head. You tried to start telling him that he should bring it back and that you weren’t really sure Akaashi would want you wearing it, but suddenly you could hear his coach on the court screaming from him to get his ass back down there. “Whoops! Gotta run! Cheer hard for us!” Bokuto gave you a thumbs up before running down.

You stood there for a moment, face feeling hot as you start to smell Akaashi’s scent on the jacket. How did he manage to smell this good all the time?

You could hear whispers from people in the stands, some people wondering who you were or if you were Bokuto or Akaashi’s girlfriend, since it was Bokuto who gave you the jacket.

All the ruckus from his coach made Akaashi actually look over, smirking a bit while Bokuto was getting scolded. He sheepishly made his way over, trying to seem all innocent to his best friend.

“Where the hell even were you?” Akaashi asked, throwing him a toss as the boys warmed up.

“Oh! Just dropping something off to Y/N for you!” Bokuto grinned, nodding in your direction as he received the ball nice and high.

Akaashi shouldn’t have looked over. But he did. His eyes locked onto you and saw you in his jacket and for a moment, he definitely spaced out. His whole brain was just thinking about you and nothing else and he didn’t knock himself out of it until Bokuto’s pass knocked him right in the head.

“Akaashi! Are you okay?” Bokuto laughed, knowing the pass had been pretty soft. Akaashi’s cheeks turn a bit pink as he shook it off, running after the ball.

You were wearing his jacket. And you looked so good in it.

After a complete win for the game, Akaashi was so hyped up to see you. You had worn his jacket the whole game and he had to avoid looking at you because you were just so distracting.

But now that it was over, he wanted nothing more than to swoop you into a hug and admire you. You gave him a huge grin when you caught up with the team, excitedly cheering them for their win and giving Bokuto high fives.

Akaashi watched you with a small smile on his face. You glanced over at him and gave a nervous sort of smile, noting there was a difference in how he was looking at you. “Oh! Here, you’ll get cold soon when your adrenaline stops pumping,” you said, pulling the jacket off.

“It’s alright,” he insisted, smirking a bit down at you. “You look gorgeous, I don’t want you to take it off,” he admitted with a smile, patting your head adoringly.

Your face gets all hot again, avoiding his eyes quickly, “Alright alright, Mr. High Off Of A Win,” you laughed nervously, poking at his chest gently. He raised an eyebrow at your dismissive behaviour.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t go spreading stuff that isn’t true,” you shrugged, shoving your hands in the jacket pocket. Sure, you liked the jacket but there was no way you were as pretty as he was making you out to be. Gorgeous? No way.

Akaashi’s eyes darkened slightly hearing this, taking your chin into his fingers and tilting your chin up so you were forced to look at him, “You think I’d lie to you?”

The question made you shrink inside, noting his hardened expression. He didn’t like it when you were hard on yourself, always made you notice all the little great things about you. But this wasn’t a private conversation, and people were starting to stare, which just made your face go even warmer. “N-No,” you mumble out shyly, trying to look away but he kept your gaze.

“Good girl,” he smirked at you, tapping your nose gently, “Now take the compliment. And wear my jacket more often, alright?”

You couldn’t help but nod at that point, Akashi smiling in his satisfaction before dragging you off for the team’s celebratory meal. The pit in your stomach that liked to tell you you were a filler character was slightly less intense now, after talking to your boyfriend. Akaashi had such an effect on you and there was no denying it. How could a guy like that be with a girl like you, you would never understand. But there was such an honesty in his eyes, and he was right after all, he wasn’t the type to lie about these things… so maybe. Just maybe. There was some truth to it.

Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama wasn’t the best at noticing hints and subtle things, and honestly, he’d rather if people were just blunt and to the point with him. But with you, he knew that he would have to learn between the lines. It wasn’t because you weren’t great at communication (and let’s be honest, even if you were bad at it, Kageyama was in NO place to call you out on that), but rather, Kageyama understood that at some point in relationships, it was important to see what the other person wanted.

So when he started really trying to read you, he found himself almost discouraged by a reoccurring instance.

It was real subtle at first, and in that moment, Kageyama probably wouldn’t have noticed. But he probably just smile at you and press a kiss to your forehead, thanking you for always thinking of him.

“You’re always so thoughtful, Y/N. I appreciate what you do for me,” he told you, almost like he was thanking a teacher for their help on homework which just made you laugh.

“Don’t be silly, Kageyama, it’s just a milk box,” you insisted, giving a little wave to his teammates before he left.

But it wasn’t just a milk box and even Kageyama could see that. He had forgotten his lunch today and you had shared yours with him. But he always had a milk with his lunch and you didn’t have one, but he didn’t have the chance to actually buy one before he had to head back to classes. He didn’t think he had mentioned anything about the milk, or even hesitated to eat without it. But you had still gone out of your way to buy one for him and bring it to him after classes.

You had even apologized that it was later than he usually had his milk, as if you should’ve known to get it earlier. Kageyama was amazed that you even went and bought him one. He held the box in his hands for a moment before getting called over to start practice, promising himself to have the drink right after practice.

It wasn’t just that you brushed off his appreciation for what you did for him. Kageyama always felt something was wrong when he complimented you. So much so, he had to awkwardly ask his upperclassmen for help.

“Oh our little Kageyama needs help with his girlfriend hmmm?” Tanaka laughed, hands on his hips like he was some sort of relationship expert.

“I dunno why you’d come to us,” Daichi admitted with a smirk, leaning against a nearby wall as he considered the question. “It’s not like any of us are really all that experienced with girls.”

“But you know how to… communicate,” Kageyama explained, playing with his fingers as he shyly stared at the floor. “I’m just worried I’m… doing that thing that Hinata says I do. Where I think I’m complimenting her but I’m actually hurting her.”

Sugawara chuckled and threw his arm around his first year’s neck, fluffing up his hair playfully, “Aw! Little Tobio is growing up!”

“What kinds of things are you saying to her?” Asahi asked, offering Kageyama a smile as the blueberry boy tried to fix his now messed up hair.

Kageyama thought about it for a moment, not having to think that far back to remember an example. “This morning, she was wearing her hair differently,” Kageyama told them, gesturing towards his hair as if to act out how her hair was. “And I told her she looked very pretty.”

The boys just looked at him, as if expecting for there to be more. “Okay and?” Noya piped up, shrugging.

“That’s it,” Kageyama blinked. “Should I have said something else?”

“Why would you say something else, Kageyama?” Daichi raised an eyebrow, noting the distress in the setter’s eyes.

Kageyama huffed, remembering how you awkwardly turned away, as if he had said something brash, “She just said ‘you don’t have to do that, Kageyama’ and changed the subject. But I don’t know what she meant. Was… Was I not supposed to tell her? She did look very pretty but should I have kept that to myself?”

Sugawara gave him a sympathetic smile, “I think you did fine, Kageyama, don’t worry! Maybe she was just embarrassed.”

The others agreed, Tanaka explaining to him that some people were bashful when it came to their appearances.

“But she’s the most perfect being in the whole country!” Kageyama burst out, his forehead creased with concern. “Why shouldn’t I tell her?”

“Just in the country?” Asahi chuckled and Sugawara smacked his arm.

“Don’t tease him, I don’t think Kageyama has ever left the country!”

“Maybe she’s just not used to you complimenting her. Like how you weren’t too used to holding hands with her at the beginning of your relationship,” Daichi offered, remembering how red the boy’s face was you first took his hand at a tournament. He didn’t even know he had to hold your hand back and just had his hand staying there stiff.

Kageyama nodded slowly - he could understand that. It just took some time and then he was okay with it eventually. Now he would grab your hand out of instinct and it wasn’t something foreign to him.

After talking to his upperclassmen, Kageyama felt a little better. Perhaps it wasn’t his words then, maybe he just had to do it more.

But after a week of trial and error, Kageyama still couldn’t understand why you still seemed so uncomfortable. The day after consulting the second and third years, Kageyama had told you he really liked the way you hummed and that you had a really nice voice (he really did like it, it was his favourite thing to listen to).

But you just flickered your eyes away from him, offering a nervous laugh, “It’s nothing,” you mumbled before quickly asking him about his practice schedule.

So Kageyama thought maybe you just didn’t like talking about your singing. So when the two of you were studying, you noticed his laser focus wasn’t on his work but instead on you. His eyes were so trained on you, it was like how he was on the volleyball court.

“Kageyama?” You blinked in surprise, catching him staring at you. “Are you alright?”

“You’re really smart, Y/N!” He blurted out, a firm nod afterwards like confirming what he was saying. “I appreciate you always coming to help me work!”

But you just squirmed in your seat, turning your eyes back to your work, “I really don’t know all that much.”

It had been a week of this back and forth, Kageyama desperately trying to find what was going on. Was it him? Was he just not using the right words? Could he actually be being really rude and didn’t realize it? Was it his face? Was he supposed to smile more?

Finally, Kageyama felt like he was at the end of his rope. He didn’t know what to do now.

“The sunset is really pretty today!” You beamed as the two of you walked home from his practice. He glanced over and noticed the brilliant colours in the sky. It looked nice sure, but how could you understand that that looked pretty and you didn’t?

“I think you’re prettier.” He stated simply. Kageyama didn’t really know what lines were cheesy and what weren’t. But you did and your face just overheated immediately in response.

“K-Kageyama, don’t say things like that!” You insisted, staring to walk ahead.

“Wait!” Kageyama yelped, grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you back to him. “What am I doing wrong?” he asked you desperately, his eyes wide and searching yours for some sort of answers.

You stared at him for a moment, confused by his words, “Wrong?” You repeated softly, noticing how upset he looked.

“I…” Kageyama’s voice faltered as he watched your eyes. “I keep trying to tell you how amazing you are. You do all these things for me, you help me when I’m upset and you always help me train. You throw balls for me and Hinata, even when you’d rather be at home. You call me during my jogs just to keep me company. You bring me milk when I forget mine. And you always compliment me when I’m feeling like I’m not 100%… so what am I doing wrong? Because everything I say to you… it doesn’t seem to work.”

Something in you clicked. Is this why Kageyama had been acting so weird this week?

“Kageyama… I do all that because I like you and I want you to be your best,” you explained softly. “And I compliment you because I mean it! Not because I’m trying to make you feel better. Or try to boost your self-esteem.”

There was something in your tone that Kageyama couldn’t place. What was that in your voice?

“Why are you sad when I try to tell you things?” Kageyama was practically begging you for an answer. He didn’t understand how to read things from your tone, he wanted to desperately to understand but he just couldn’t grasp it. “Sugawara told me that complimenting people on things makes them feel good… am I doing it wrong? Please just tell me, I’ll be better! I’ll be the best boyfriend!”

Your smile was almost sad and Kageyama’s heart tugged a little in his chest, “I don’t want you to say things because you feel like you have to say them,” you sighed softly, now avoiding his eyes. “I know my hair is a mess most of the time, I know that my singing isn’t some professional level shit, and I know I’m not the model kind of girl or those gorgeous girls who come to your games. I don’t need you to try and convince me otherwise…”

Kageyama’s mind felt like it was blowing up. What were you talking about?

“Don’t be so stupid,” Kageyama whined, huffing at you and poking your forehead, “You think I’m lying about these things? You think I say them because I feel like I have to?” Kageyama shook his head, taking your face into his hands. “I’m not the best with words, I know this. But you are…” Kageyama’s face twisted into a funny expression as he tried to find the words he wanted, “the most perfect thing. You’re like when I make a perfect set and the spike goes right past the blockers!”

You couldn’t help but smile as he went on talking about volleyball. You weren’t surprised - he often related things to volleyball to understand better.

“You… are the perfect jump serve. Seeing you is like I’m winning full sets at Nationals!” He expressed, looking at you with wide eyes in hopes you were understanding. “I’m not trying to make you feel better about yourself, Y/N. You are everything I could possibly want. You make me feel like volleyball isn’t the only thing that matters anymore. I want to hear you sing all the time and I love your hair no matter how you think it looks.”

Your eyes were welling up with tears as he spoke dramatically, looking up at the sky as if that would help him figure out his sentences better. When he finally looked back at you, he jumped back almost immediately in fear.

“N-No! Don’t cry! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have brought up volleyball again! I-”

You laughed and quickly shook your head, grasping his hands in yours, “Happy tears, Kageyama,” you explained softly, almost immediately burying your face in his chest as you drew him closer for a hug. “Thank you,” you whisper.

Kageyama wasn’t really sure what you were thanking him for but he hugged you tightly anyways. He hated seeing you cry and he would squeeze them all out of you until there was none left if he had to. “You are very pretty.” He stated, pressing a kiss to your head.

And this time, you didn’t argue. You just stayed there in his arms, and listened to the genuineness in his voice.

Haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to join!)

@scphiredrafts @aurumk @devilkittymusic @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @lucyheartfilias-wife @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @wolfishwriting @livy384

[parchmentedpetrichor]

➳the girl in the lilac dress ♠ ♡

in which y/n meets fred's ex-girlfriend, days after fred confessed his love for her. there's still some confusion on the status of their relationship. angst -> fluff. narrated by you, y/n l/n.

fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: ±5.4k

tw: angst (not too bad though), mean words, blood, mentions of auror missions, kidnapping, needles, st mungo's

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ft. hermione, lee and alicia

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

the girl in the lilac dress

i was in a good mood. on the way to work to receive my mission, i was humming a song that had just come out. it was catchy and worth the wait.

out of the corner of my eye, a lilac colour appeared suddenly. strange, i thought. it approached me, in the form of a beautiful woman. she had the lightest grey eyes and the smoothest milky-white skin, and the shiniest locks of dark brown hair. she walked in a flowy lilac gown, her slim model-like body walking in a model-like fashion.

i was pretty sure she wasn't headed towards me, but when her luxurious voice said "good morning" in the calmest tone possible to me, i looked at her confusedly.

"hi!" i replied brightly, smiling.

she smiled sinisterly, "my name is pretoria aphrodite, i'm fred's ex-girlfriend."

he hadn't ever mentioned an ex, but i knew he had dated quite a few people. she made me seem like a glass of water next to a glass of red wine, naive and ugly. i was those two things anyway.

"oh! i'm y/n l/n! nice to meet you, you do seem like a daughter of aphrodite," i said politely.

"darling, all women are daughters of aphrodite. i understand fred's interested in you?"

she observed me and i laughed.

"i don't think that's quite the word. he's my best friend."

"friends with benefits?"

"oh gosh no! i don't really know where we stand, honestly."

"bitter about it?"

i thought for a second, "nah, i couldn't be. love's a hard thing."

"it is, indeed, and you work for the ministry?"

i nodded, "head of the auror office. what about you?"

"i model for witch weekly."

i gasped, "you're the p. aphrodite? i should've known!"

"big fan?" she looked amusedly at me.

"my friends are, so naturally i am."

"you don't seem the type fred usually goes for."

"i wouldn't say he's even going for me," i said cautiously.

"you are much too cutesie for his type."

i glanced up at her. she was smiling kindly.

"pfft, but better cutesie than nothing, amirite?" i asked friendlily, "well it's been nice to talk with you, but i gotta hurry!"

"no worries, i'll come with you, i have some business at the ministry too. have you seen his past exes?"

"uhh, not really?"

"well they're all models for one magazine or another."

"oh, okay. and that's important because...?" i asked her carefully.

"i just thought you should know."

i laughed, "i'm not model material, am i? i don't mind at all."

she looks taken aback. "i would say, with longer hair," she plucked a hair out of my poor mess of locks, "and a shorter upper body, with perhaps lip fillers, you'd look model-like."

her tone was analysing and not at all attacking.

"only three things??" i asked, shocked.

"you are rather... pretty already," she mused, "not model-like, but cute."

we had reached the ministry.

"thanks, see you later!" she waved and disappeared.

all that was left was a buzzing fly which soon flew away.

i immediately dialled in my auror code in the red telephone box and was sent into hermione granger's office.

"'mione! how good to see you!" i hugged her.

"hello y/n!"

in the ministry and the auror department, the head of the auror office was probably more important than the minister for magic. i didn't know why. she had brought me a cup of hot chocolate.

"thanks, 'mione, you didn't need to. what's the mission today?"

"two babies are being held hostage in a coded location by a person who calls themselves the light lord. dark lord, light lord, y'know?" she handed me a coded piece of parchment.

i thoughtfully pondered, "the light lord. who do you need?"

"i was hoping you go on this mission, then you could give me some news on this light lord person."

"that's doable. we'll need to bring in hepole and a ministry official to negotiate passports and such. and a strong auror team."

"right on it. i'll get wally becker and charlotte-ann becker. they're a force to be reckoned with on the borders."

"how much experience?"

"they're twins, been doing this for about fifty years now."

"perfect. and hepole?"

"on the way."

"thanks, minister," i winked at her, getting out my telephone and dialling the disguise unit.

"hello, poplinn speaking."

"pop, we need a few disguises. light lord."

"miss l/n! o-of course!"

"and pop?"

"y-yeah?"

"call me y/n."

i hung up, dialling harry's office.

"harry, call draco and be in my office in ten minutes. i don't care what business he's doing with scorpius, we've got babysitters here. light lord, perhaps a second of voldemort."

"of course."

i picked up the ringing phone that was in the corner of hermione's office.

"y/n, me and scorpy are having a zoo day, we're at the muggle zoo you suggested."

"sorry dray, but it's important."

"there's no one else?"

"there are others, but we need your expertise."

there was a pause, "i won't need to show my dark mark?"

"it's fading anyway. no."

"i'll be paid?"

"in hundreds."

"how old are the children?"

"2 and 4," hermione said.

the silence told me he was sold.

"i'll be there."

i picked up the big microphone and said, "auror unit 156 to the brief room. no need to bring anything. see you there!"

"good luck," hermione grimly said, "be safe, head."

"mhm and cup o' coffee tomorrow? if i survive, that is," i grinned.

"'course."

i smiled, "c'ya!"

she was shaking her head.

"oi, no disappointment, 'mione! i was the one who got the ministry out of paperwork!"

"burning paper doesn't count, y/n."

"it wasn't burning paper, hermione granger, it was arson."

"no, it was the saddest form of arson i've ever seen."

"hey! that's rude."

"just go on your mission already."

i laughed, "on it, minister. kalle?"

kalle looked at me, "yes?"

"tell miss minister to take a break and play a game or something, will you?"

she smiled, "okay."

"give my thanks to your mother too, loved the cookies!"

"alright, good luck, head!"

"thanks, bye!"

i apparated to the brief room, where everyone was strapped into special camouflage clothes.

i handed hepole the parchment and immediately began briefing the unit, harry and draco, on the mission.

"please be safe out there. if you're injured, apparate or travel back here, okay?"

i looked at hepole.

he cleared his throat, "they're in albania. the forest there."

"okay. harry and draco will provide attacking forces," the two nodded.

"i want lopex, quentin blake, quentin grill and hilly to break into any establishment," i say to the team, "and eron, hawks, melv, argonas to hold the offender hostage. johnathan, team healer as always. i'll take the children. hepole, you come and accompany us till the forest, then you have my permission to stay back, and beckers, stay invisible with the cloak, write a report for the minister when you come back, understand? have faith, team! i believe in you. we travel by apparition with the machine in three minutes. call your family, chat, have a snack, drink some water, and relax."

i picked up my telephone and dialled my parents.

"hi mum, dad, i'm going on a mission!"

"alright, be safe sweetie," my mum called.

"yeah, don't die kiddo," my dad added.

"right right, i love you, bye!"

the mission was successful. we rescued the children and sent the kidnapper to trial for azkaban. i escaped with a gash on my forearm, but quickly fixed it up with a spell. it ended late in the evening, so the team healer had gone home. the wound kept opening again, but i wasn't sure if it needed stitches.

putting everything away and making sure the aurors were okay, i headed back to the apartment i shared with fred.

i felt emotionally and physically drained, ready to enjoy a good shower and a good late dinner.

when i fiddled with the key to the door and opened it, my heart absolutely stopped.

pretoria aphrodite was kissing fred passionately. i felt my heart fall ten thousand flights of stairs in disappointment. of course. i was all a rebound who was pathetically in love with him.

when they stopped and saw me, pretoria smirked and fred stood up, astounded.

"uhh, continue? sorry," i apologised awkwardly.

"wait, y/n, it's not what it looks like-" he said.

"i don't mind, be safe," i smiled, too tired and too weak to do anything, closing the door and feeling tears well up in my eyes as i took my bag and myself somewhere. anywhere away from this all. my wound burned. i cursed under my breath as i made my way to st mungo's.

"y/n, you should have come here earlier!" yvonne, my friend, says, as she slowly injects a needle into me, "it's infected! and it needs stitches."

i laughed, "everything needs stitches. this is why i didn't become a healer, yvonne."

she shook her head in dismay.

"lol."

i watched the needle go in.

then she stitched the bloody mess of a wound up, cleaning it gently.

"now i can't stay, y/n," i pouted, "no, don't give me that face, i have other patients."

i nodded, "thanks yvonne."

"no problems. take care. you're too reckless."

"am not!"

she laughed. "that's funny."

after the trip to st mungo's which was pretty short, i wondered what to do. my mind kept floating to the scene i had just witnessed.

i was just the stupid, stupid, girl he used as a rebound. he didn't even use me as a real rebound, just someone who was simply infatuated with him to help him forget his unforgettable ex.

looking at a shop window, i caught a glimpse of myself. i hated being insecure but it happened.

i looked ugly. eyes too small, nose too big, lips not full enough. my thighs touched and i didn't have abs. i had a long gash running down my forearm, surrounded by other cuts. my hair was messy and disgusting. compared to the angel on earth pretoria was, i was nothing. small and plain was nothing when luxurious and beautiful was present.

and it hurt. my heart hurt. my head hurt.

i shook my head gently of my thoughts, chuckling bitterly.

fred weasley was completely and utterly out of my league.

whatevs, i thought. hurting was fine.

deciding to get over him once and for all, i bought some groceries and apparated to the doorstep of lee and alicia's glamorous cottage.

i knocked twice on the door. "hellooo!" i called out.

"baby, can you get that?" lee asked alicia.

alicia opened the door, smiling as she saw me.

"hey ali!"

"hi! come in!"

at first glance i could tell she knew something wrong.

"can i sleep here tonight? and take a shower? and eat some of your food please guys? and maybe steal a shirt i left here for safekeep? and maybe use your telephone? i'm really sorry for troubling you, so i got you guys snacks."

i was the second cousin by marriage of lee. it was good overall, but he was super naughty.

"snacks?"

"your favourites."

"then i guess you can," he said cheekily and i laughed.

"alicia, i don't know how or why you ended up with this child, but i'm glad you did," i told her and she laughed heartily.

"he's cute, isn't he?"

"no," i quickly stepped into the guest bedroom and took a long shower, letting a few tears slip but not enough so that it looked like it. i was subtle.

i bundled up in heavy clothing and wrapped my hair in a towel.

gingerly, i bandaged the wound.

by the snores in the other room, lee was asleep. i crept out quietly, going to cook something.

alicia was sitting down, with my favourite comfort meal prepared. i felt tears of appreciation well up in my eyes.

"thank you, ali, i love you."

"you damn well do."

we both giggled.

"what happened?" she asked me.

"nothing. i just wanted a change."

"from fred? liar. i'll ask again. what happened, y/n?"

"just a long mission, that's all."

"after long missions you usually watch movies with fred."

"couldn't i visit my best friend and my cuz?"

"you visit us on weekends. it's a friday."

"well i wanted to visit you!"

"bullshit."

"is it that hard to believe?"

"what the fuck did fred do to you?"

"nothin'?"

"c'mon y/n, you have to tell me. there's a reason why you didn't go to angie and george's tonight."

"i went here because they're super kissy. you guys have space and act normally. i appreciate that."

"you're awesome at lying."

"i'm not lying!"

"does this happen to involve pretoria aphrodite?"

i nodded, sighing, "she's so nice and pretty." i played with my food.

"i bumped into her. she's pretty, but not nice."

"oh?"

"she called me fiercely ugly. she forgot i model for witch weekly too."

"what did you say back?"

"i told her to fuck off."

i laughed, "she was very nice to me. but next time i see her imma kill her."

"of course she was nice to you, you're a lil angel! anyway, she's an animagus, didya know?"

"whoa how did you know?"

"caught her in a jar. she's a fly. who do you think told hermione to catch rita skeeter in the jar?"

i laughed, "rita skeeter is a beetle! gosh, she's annoying."

"what did fred and pretoria do?"

"nothing."

"please tell me?"

"they-" i swallowed, "they were kissing, and so i came here because i didn't wanna watch anymore."

"hang on, he told you he loved you a few days ago?"

i nodded.

"that doesn't seem right."

i shrugged, "pretoria's better than me. i don't blame him."

"his mother would kill him!"

i shrugged again, "i don't think he was legit when he said that."

"molly weasley, y/n!"

"look, he can explain it to you, i don't even wanna hear it. the first stage of mourning is denial, they say."

"doesn't mean it's good."

"denial is awesome. it's ignorance, but you choose to be stupid. i'm already so stupid!" i groaned, covering my face with my hands, "so so so so so so so stupid, foolish, dumb, and i don't want you to tell me i'm not because i know i am. pathetic."

i gobbled down the rest of the meal, "ths 's delicous," i said, swallowing, "g'night!"

"don't be afraid to let it all out."

"yeah."

i shut the door softly, before brushing my teeth and collapsing exhaustedly on the bed, nodding off quickly.

the next day, i woke at 4am, and put on new clothes, apparating to the phone box and filling out paperwork for the missions yesterday.

i joined hermione quickly, handing her a cappucino and sipping my mocha.

"court sitting this early?" she asked me.

i nodded, "mistake of sirius black, now they do all court sittings within 24 hours of arrest."

"that's smart."

"yeah. it's good. he's obviously guilty right? just a dust of veritaserum to bring it all out?"

"i reckon he'll just confess."

"criminals don't go down easily."

"you guys did a spotting job. the children were unharmed."

"are they here today?"

"they're in st mungo's. being monitored."

"parents?"

"dead."

"oh gosh, those poor children. what's going to happen to them?"

"someone's adopting them, wally becker and his wife."

"that's awesome."

the court hushed as we entered the room. hermione and i shared amused glances and began the sitting.

he was found to be guilty and was chucked in azkaban.

"what an idiot, sending a message like that."

"yup," i chuckled, "what with hepole in our ministry, they never escape."

we laughed.

"how's everything with ron?" i asked her.

"i don't know if he's still into me?"

i almost laugh at her statement, "bro. of course he is."

"i never see him."

"then see him more!"

"how? i'm so busy!"

"busy enough for ron?" we both took sandwiches from the canteen lady with courteous smiles and words.

we sat down at the cafeteria.

"i guess not, but he's busy!"

"busy enough for you?"

"i guess not."

"'xactly."

"but he might not wanna go on a date."

"why? the boy's obsessed with you, 'mione!"

the aurors and ministry workers looked at us in fear as i rose up. i chuckled.

i immediately skipped over to the telephone, putting in the WWW's number.

"y/n! what on earth are you doing?" hermione said in a panicked tone.

"nothing to be worried 'bout."

"hello?" it was george. i thanked the heavens for that.

"yolo george, give the phone to your lil bro please."

"'kay."

hermione was gaping at me. i smirked at her.

"y/n?"

"hey ron, i want you to meet me in rosemary park at 5pm today."

"o-okay."

"could you also bring hermione's favourite snacks and wear an extra jumper?"

"what? why?"

"i'm curious, that's all," i said, "see you there!"

"is that y/n?" i heard fred's voice.

"nup, it isn't," i replied.

and with that, i hung up.

"hey 'mione?"

she was glaring at me, "what."

"meet me at rosemary park at 5pm?" i batted my eyelashes at her, before bursting out in laughter.

she laughed, "i love you."

"pfft, love ya too. you really are too careful. like he would reject you."

"what do you think i should wear?"

"let's go off work early today, at 3," i suggested, "we're both on top of our work anyway."

"okay! you wanna go now?"

"it's 11?"

"yeah!"

"alrighty! kalle!"

kalle turned to us, "yes?"

"hi! me and minister are going out to talk about the mission."

"alright, bye."

we apparate to hogsmeade.

"what theme do you wanna go for?"

"hmm," she thought for a second, "floral!"

"alrighty!" i fumbled for my cell phone and dialled the WWW's again.

"hello?" it was fred this time.

"heyo freddie," i said to him like nothing had ever happened, "tell ron to dress up at 5 pm in something cute but not too out there, preferably in florals or somethin', and he better bring me hermione's favourite flowers."

"wha? if he's going with you then- ohhhh."

"thanks, bye."

"wait!"

"mhm?"

"can we talk?"

"erm- about what exactly?"

"everything."

i sighed, "later, okay? i'm out with hermione and you've got work."

"okay. have a good time, lovely."

"you too."

i was utterly confused. here he was one day kissing pretoria, and now he was calling me lovely?

what the hell was going on?

"let's go, mione!"

we went and bought her a pretty pink dress with white lilies adorning it. it was cute and definitely casual, sort of like a sundress.

"what if he doesn't come?" hermione chewed on her lip.

"hermione jean granger, we both know that ron is absolutely definitely a thousand times head over heels in love with you. he wouldn't ditch you for the world! and look at you! anyone can see he's lucky to have you! you both are star-crossed. when has he ever ever ditched you?"

"with lav brown."

"lavender, she's, she's dead, hermione," i said carefully, "fenrir greyback bit her to death. it was a tragic, heroic, death. she was listed in the extended casualties sent to my office a few months after the battle. i think she's watching down on us from wherever she is up there."

"she's dead?"

"yeah," i replied sadly, "life is so short."

"yeah."

"what i'm tryna say, is that that might've happened, but it won't happen again now that he knows you love him and he loves you. understand?"

"yeah."

"and love him well, for the sake of lavender brown."

"for the sake of lavender brown," she said, smiling.

"yup, now, light lord. his name is actually pont knight."

"pont knight?"

"former assistant of me."

"pont knight?"

"yeah, i know right."

"how did he go again?"

"oh, i fired him," i laughed.

"why?"

"smart guy but terribly lazy and he kept asking for promotions! like please do something if you want money."

"interesting."

"he moved to eastern europe to chase after the trendiness of the islands. i think it was just an excuse. he's changed. he used to be clean-shaven and have the blondest hair."

"do you think he did anything else?"

"we did put him on veritaserum, right?"

"yeah, but it's illegal to put someone on it for more than 10 minutes now in court sittings."

"we could go visit him in azkaban later? i'll take gregir."

"yeah, maybe tomorrow or the day after?"

i nodded, "'course. today is a rest day for the aurors right?"

she nodded, "yeah, half of the agency is at home or working out in the gym."

"good. sometimes this work is so tolling, 'mione."

"yeah, i heard from st mungo's you got hurt?" her eyes were concerned.

i rolled up my sleeve, "that's it."

"that's it? what do you mean, that's terrible! you need to take better care of yourself."

"well sometimes it's hard to. it was worth it."

we continued chatting until it was 4:30.

"oop!" she checked her watch, "i have to go!"

"good luck! tell me how it goes, minister! i'll head back to check if anyone's called for you or me and dust it all up."

"thanks. i owe you."

"nah. i owe my job to you. if minister for magic didn't exist, i wouldn't either. i love you 'mione, be safe!"

"love you too!"

i apparated to the phone box and typed my letters in.

with a whoosh, i immediately spotted two letters and a beeping phone. i answered the phone, solving the problem of the woman on the other end of the line and scribbled a reply to both of the letters.

i finished the paperwork and sent it off, then visited my office. it was piling with letters. i answered all of them, redirecting some of them to different departments, before calling everyone back.

i spotted some of the aurors from yesterday's mission sitting in the cafeteria and talking.

i sat down next to them, "how are you guys doing? any injuries?"

they shook their heads, "we've been spending time in the healer's office and just exercising lightly by the orders of johnny," argonas explained and i nodded.

"take it lightly, and go home if you want to. seeing family always helps the process, hopefully not too many nightmares?"

they laughed, "nightmares all the time, miss," hawk said lightly, "get used to it in this job."

i frowned, "have you tried speaking to doctor yvonne? she might have ways to solve nightmares."

"ahh, miss, sleeping draughts can only do so much," hawk replied cordially.

i laughed, "alright, hawkeye, but just make sure you're not getting traumatised okay? what about you, lopex, quentins?"

they shrugged.

"it's okay? the door was very hard to bust into," lopex said quietly, "we had to try several bombarding charms."

"now, lop, it was easy work!" draco said, sitting down, "hello, head auror, hello unit."

it brought on a cacophony of greetings.

"how are you doing, dray?" harry sat down next to him, "hi everyone!"

we all replied with more greetings and a steady conversation started and flowed for a couple of hours.

i felt my cell phone go off and i excused myself, noting it was 9pm already.

i apparated to the apartment doorstep, knocking on the door just in case anything was happening. i checked the caller id, it was hermione.

fred opened the door, hair messy, still good looking. i smiled at him, patting his shoulder as i ran to the ringing telephone and picked it up.

"y/n!" i could just hear the beam in hermione's voice.

"'mione! how did it go?"

"absolutely wonderful, head auror, ahhh, he's so cute!"

"what happened?" i asked, smiling already.

"well it was really cold when i saw the picnic blanket, which was matching my dress for some weird reason, and ron was there in the cutest button up and he looked so handsoME and he gave me a flower, he's always handsome but i just can't! ahhhh!" she squealed and i clapped my hands in excitement.

"and then i was shivering and he gave me hiS JUMPER and it smelled like him and oh my gosh i think i might just be in love, y/n!"

i giggled, "my cooling charm did work!"

"whaT y/n????"

cackling, i said, "continue, i wanna hear more this is so adorable!!!"

i ignored the dirty glance fred gave me, quietening my voice.

"and then we had food and he said he had cooked it himself and was being such a dear and i told him that i loved him over and over again!!!"

i squealed silently again.

"and, and, gosh my english has gone out of the window!"

"english is nothing compared to the language of love!!" i giggled.

"we watched the sunset whilst cuddling, and i fell asleep and then when i woke up i was in his bed and he was looking at me intently and i just, i'm the luckiest girl alive!"

"you are but you deserve it! that's so sweet! i'm happy for you goshhh, you are the cutest couple. you're both such darlings!"

"and then we watched a muggle movie and he got scared of the spiders and it was so adorable ahhhhHHHH!!!"

"that's the cutesttttt," i gushed.

another dirty look from fred. i gave him a frown back.

"and then he walked me home and it started raining and we kissed in the rain and another check off of my bucketlist and oh my gosh he's so perfect."

"oh gosh that's beautiful," i was smiling uncontrollably.

"anyway," her tone changed into one of mischief, "wanna meet up tomorrow to talk about it?"

"sure thing! when and where? i'll be there!"

"erm, lemme chec- think," i heard the suspicious rustling of papers.

"you're sus. let's just talk about it over the phone. i don't want anything weird."

"how about 10 am in the morning at the field of fireflies?"

"that's a highly romantic place, miss minister. isn't it for couples or something?"

"no? you must be talking about fiona farm."

oh. "yeah, probs, well okay, it better have good coffee. i'm dying of boredom too, does it have a playground??" i asked, hopefully crossing my fingers.

"nope."

"awww, shucks, i don't think i'll go then. you wanna come over though?"

"no please come! there's a surprise!"

i was sold, "lovely. i'll be there at 9:30!"

"no, no, don't do that."

"what the hell, hermione, you're being so suspicious!"

"i'm not, okay? just come on time, you won't regret it."

"if there's any funny business i'm not committing arson ever again."

"oh crap."

i sighed.

"just come anyway!!! good night cheerio!!!"

"what the-"

the line ended.

i frowned, noticing the glare fred gave me yet again.

"is everything okay??" i asked him.

"no," he said rudely.

"well, do you need any help?"

"no."

"how was your day?"

"fine."

i sighed, "okay."

"you called ron cute."

i laughed lightly, "that's it?? and so what's kissing a girl huh, nothing? i called him cute because he treats 'mione like a goddess, because she is a goddess, for goodness sake. and he is cute, in a completely objective way," i added absentmindedly, "all you weasleys are."

he frowned.

"she kissed me!"

"oh i don't mind, i couldn't. my two braincells can't handle it. you kiss whoever you wanna, okay? live, laugh, love, and all that." i smiled.

he was silent.

"and we can talk after i meet up with hermione, okay?"

"okay."

"we don't needa if you don't wanna, of course. g'night."

"have a nice sleep."

the next morning, i got up and went to the field of fireflies or whatever.

it was a beautiful place. it was a full on field. meadows stretched across the near english countryside. the sky was clear and light, and the world around me was stunning.

winds blew from all directions, and i soon found myself accio!ing a jumper.

"hermioneeee???" i called, "you're leaving me hanging."

had hermione stood me up? i chuckled at the very thought, soon rolling in the field of flowers as i laughed.

"hermione you devil you stood me up! you left your poor little work wife hanging!" i shouted dramatically.

i suddenly spotted a little house? by the side of the meadow.

i ran towards it.

"whoa."

it was absolutely magnificent. beige little bricks were stacked on top of each other, grey bricks dotted in. the shillings were dark green, and plants hung out everywhere in the cracks of the house.

large windows which reflected the blue light in the sky spanned across the whole house, and a single wooden door stood ajar.

i just wish i had brought a camera. i sat on the grass, playing with the hem of my jumper sadly. even hermione didn't have time for me. i wondered what a sad person i must seem like.

"contemplating life there?" i heard a far off voice. i swung my head around, seeing fred standing and grinning.

yeah well duh i was, no thanks to you, i thought.

i immediately got up.

"we can talk here, right?" fred asked, as he brought me into the house.

"wow," inside, it was cluttered and messy, with plants sprouting everywhere and bookcases and things everywhere. i loved it.

"you like it?" he asked.

"love it."

"good, because i bought it," he laughed at my flabbergasted expression, "i'm rich, darlin'. let's sit, i cooked lunch."

"was this your plan? to have hermione stand me up?" i asked.

"love, i wouldn't call this a plan. simply just a boy trying to explain himself."

"look i don't need an explanation. i told you, you can love whoever you wanna, i don't mind, i don't care, i support."

"but i'm gonna have to explain because i wanna kiss you."

"then go ahead," i sighed, "if you're lying i will stab you."

"jeesh okay."

i looked at him.

"oh yeah, i forgot the food, here," he said casually, handing me a plate filled with yummy looking delicacies. i was willing to put up with his rubbish story telling for the food, i guess.

"alright, i'm all ears."

"okay. so she talked with you right?"

i nodded.

"did she take a piece of hair from you?”

i nodded again.

"so you came home just right about when the night lights flicker on in london. or so i thought it was you. it was actually, aphrodite, yeah? in polyjuice potion. and she knocked on the door, which i thought was strange. i opened it and she immediately kissed me, as you. and it was weird but it was you and i would give the world to kiss you like that," he said bluntly and i could feel my face heating up, "and then it went like that for a few seconds and she turned into pretoria, and by then the woman had her claws on me. then the door opened and i knew i had made a mistake and then you left and apologised so sweetly. i'm so so sorry, my love, please, i never meant to hurt you, i never meant to do anything. i broke up with her last year. i haven't wanted to be with her since. i want to be with you."

i looked at him. i knew he was genuine.

"okay. i'm sorry too, for not trusting you. i guess i was just really unsure of our relationship. it's still kinda blurry."

"what do you wanna be?"

"could we be official, please?"

he grinned, "of course."

then smiling sheepishly, he added, "can i kiss you now?"

"only if i'm the only girl you kiss from now on," i teased, smiling.

he blushed, placing my hands over his heart. it was beating very very fast.

"feel that, beautiful?"

i nodded.

"only you."

he gave me a cheesy grin and laughed at my blushing face, before tilting my head upwards and going in for a kiss but kissing my cheek.

"that's not fair!"

and that's how his head ended up falling into my lap, as i ran my fingers through his ginger strands.

he had fallen asleep just as the sunset began.

it was breathtaking. hues of orange and red danced across the sky.

"i can think of something a lot more beautiful than that," fred said, smiling.

"oh?"

"yeah. yeah."

"i don't believe you."

"that's because you can't see yourself right now."

[thatweeboverthereisthirsty]

OK so I got this idea. S/o (who's this time has to be female) is also an octo mermaid but still from another world. So s/o gets into one of the pools and they discover she's a blanket octopus (if you haven't seen a female blanket octopus they're one of the most beautiful octopus out there with their gradient colors) and they get popular af like everyone is like "wow she's such a beautiful meroctopus" Yada yada. And Azul it's mad. Part 1

Part 2. And both Jade and Floyd notice it and decide to tell s/o who is shocked and sad because they have a HUGE crush so they decided to give him a gift. Since they know he doesn't have a octopus pot they decide to make him one. After months they give it to him and confess and he's shocked and ask for their forgiveness as it isn't their fault. At the end he and s/o cuddle inside of the octo pot in their mer forms.

OMG THIS TOOK ME FOREVER!!!! I probably got this ask before thanksgiving so I am very sorry that it took me this long, HOWEVER, it is the longest oneshot I have ever written so that’s quite an accomplishment. There are photo references that go with this story as well so check those out before you read. 

Warnings: Slight language, insecurities, fluff, very very minor angst, fem!s/o

Word count: 4,710

Azul x Reader: Cuddle Pot

The above images are references for the s/o’s octopus species and the octopus pot. I don’t know who the original artist is for the second so if you know please let me know so I can give credit where due.

   “Wait seriously? You’re a mermaid!” Ace practically shrieks and you giggle. Placing a finger to your lips, you shush him as Deuce slaps the back of your over energetic friend’s head. 

   “Yes. I am a mermaid, but you can’t tell anyone yet.”

   “Why not?” Jack questions. His tail flicks in confusion.

   You sigh and think back to the last time anyone found out about your true form. Most of the people back in your world found merpeople to be odd and cursed. It was considered a disability and a disease. Human society often shunned what they didn’t understand. And that lack of understanding led to fear. 

   A boy in your old school had been your middle school sweetheart for approximately 7 months before you decided to tell him your secret. He had seemed so eager to finally go swimming with you that you had naively believed that it was all going to be fine. However when he stared at your flowey, shimmering form you felt yourself grow worried that he would no longer like you. 

   “Babe,” you started, leaning closer to try and grasp his face with your smooth, webbed fingers. “It’s alright. It’s just my merform. It’s going to-” He quickly slapped your hand away and stumbled back. 

   “F-freak, monster, disgusting. Stay away from me you animal! We’re over you deceiving B*tch!” He quickly ran away from the side of the lake where you had brought him. As dawns lovely lights sprayed your body with pinks, and soft oranges, tears slid down your cheeks and into the water below. He hated you. Oh what a fool you had been to think that he would be different, that he would love you anyway. 

   School had become increasingly difficult after that. Word spread fast and you were quickly isolated by everyone you had called a friend. Eventually you moved to a new place and decided that you would never love again.

   This wasn’t the case however in Twisted Wonderland. You were so pleasantly surprised to find people like you, and they weren’t considered freaks because of it. It had been a shock and you quickly found yourself yearning to tell others about what you truly were. Fear had you back though. At least up until that point.

   “I had a bad experience with someone I cared about back in my home world.” You stated softly. The boys looked at each other and smiled. 

   “Well this isn’t that world. You're good to go here since I can’t imagine anyone judging you for what you look like in this place.” Ace’s words reassured you.

   “He’s right. At NRC it’s highly unlikely that you’ll be bullied because of something like this. But what are you anyway?” Deuce questioned. 

   You giggled and leaned in closer to the 4 people sitting at the lunch table, (5 if you included Grimm, but he already knew). “I’m an octopus.” You said with excitement and slight nervousness.

   “Really? That sounds so cool!” Epel was quiet but excited when he spoke up for the first time since the conversation started. You smiled to yourself and mentally sighed in relief that the people you had next trusted with your secret didn’t view you any differently. 

   “Wait hold the phone. Octopus? Like Azul?” Ace pressed close enough that you could reach across with a napkin and wipe the side of his cheek that had been smeared with BBQ sauce when he scarfed his lunch.

  “Yes and no, Azul is a Common Octopus, which means that he is the standard octopus you mostly see around the ocean or in pictures. Basically what you imagine when someone says Octopus. I’m a different type of octopus, one that is more rare.” You pulled out your phone while talking to bring up an image. You held the phone so everyone at the table could see.

   “This is a female Blanket Octopus. We’re pretty rare but we are also one of the most beautiful kinds.” 

   Everyone went wide eyed and watched the screen as you scrolled through images of your fellow eight legged friends. Epel turned to you and grabbed your shoulder. 

   “You absolutely have to show us your merform.” Ace, Deuce, and Jack all nodded in agreement. You flushed and fiddled with the hem of your shirt. 

   “I don’t know guys. It would be a hassle to find a place where we could do it and I’m not sure I want anyone else seeing me. What if someone shows up and freaks out?” This time it was Jack’s turn to speak when he leaned back before smiling slightly.

   “Not that I care but I personally would show up to support you if you needed it. Besides, the school pool is closed after dark. However I’m pretty sure Ruggie has snatched a copy of every key to every lock in the building.”

   “Of course he has.” Deuce says rolling his eyes. “That hyena couldn’t keep his paws to himself even if his life depended on it.” You giggled but ignored the comment in favor of asking Jack if he could get the key. The wolf nodded and you told everyone to meet you by the pool at 9:30. Your friends nodded in agreement just as the bell rang.

----------

   The air was humid and warm, it was perfect for a late night swim, although your clothes would likely stick to your body when you changed back. Still you shifted uncomfortably at the idea of getting in the water with what you are wearing. A pair of leggings was slipped on underneath a waterproof skirt. You had a jacket over your bikini top but per usual you were unable to wear bottoms unless you wanted them to tear. You would have to be very careful not to let the skirt go up before you shifted.

   A sigh left your lips and Grimm, sensing your nervousness, rubbed up against your leg in silent comfort. Your friends were unlikely to freak out but it was still nerve wracking to think about exposing your true form to other non-merpeople. Hundreds of scenarios where something went wrong filtered through your head and promised that your anxiety wouldn’t leave anytime soon. 

  “BOO!” Half a shriek pierced the night before a hand clasped over your mouth.  

   “Shishishishishi.” You turned around in surprise and pulled the fingers away from your face.

   “Ruggie! What are you doing here?” You whisper shouted. The hyena snickered again and held up one finger. He made a circular motion and a key ring twirled around in response. 

   “Jack said you needed to get in here. Thought I’d tag along.” The smirk on his face irritated you but you couldn’t be surprised. You should have known that having Jack of all people ask for keys to break into the pool after hours was going to raise some eyebrows. Honestly you should have just asked him to invite Ruggie along anyways. Key or no key the hyena was likely to want to know what was going on. 

   “Alright fine, but if you tell anyone what you saw here today, and I mean anyone, then I will hide your piggy bank from you.” Ruggie’s eyes went wide before they narrowed.

   “You have my word.” You smiled knowing that you had convinced him to keep your secret despite the fact that if he really had told someone you wouldn’t have actually done more than try and punch him. Of all people you knew how precious money was in this world, considering the fact that you had none.

   Footsteps alerted you to the approaching presence of your other friends. You turn

around and find Jack, Epel, Ace and Deuce walking over to you. They wave and Jack frowns when he spots Ruggie.

   “What are you doing here? I thought you already gave me the key.” The hyena snickers and points towards the key Jack was holding. 

   “I gave you the one to the janitors closet, which I’m gonna need back by the way. I wanted to see what was going on for myself so I hung out here till Y/n came over, and then I figured it had to be interesting if she was involved. I didn’t know there was gonna be a crowd though.” He looked at you, “This must be one hell of a surprise if you got all the first years here.”

   Deuce pointed out that Sebek was a first year as well but the hyena shrugged it off saying “he doesn’t count as a student since he’s basically just a guard.” You figured that was Leona’s opinion and Ruggie agreed.

   “Guys it’s already late and I don’t wanna get caught so let's go in already.” Everyone nodded and Ruggie opened the gate. 

   Carefully you unzipped your jacket as you walked over to the bench. The water appeared calm and undisturbed, allowing a clear view of the illuminated bottom which was surprisingly clean considering teenage boys flung about in the water all day.

   You sighed and shrugged the jacket off before stepping out of your shoes. Setting down the bag with your extra clothes you mentally prepared yourself for what was about to happen. 

   Ruggie leaned closer to Jack and whispered something you didn’t catch but Jack’s response of “You’ll see.” was enough to tell you what had happened. Pushing your anxiety out of the way you lowered yourself into the pool, sighing as the cool water licked your skin. Giving yourself a moment to relax you let your worries leak into the water around you. You had always felt better in the water. It’s a merfolk thing.

   “Are you guys positive you won’t freak out?” You called to the edge of the pool where your friends were standing. 

   “Not unless you grow 10 heads.” Ace sniggered until Epel elbowed him. You rolled your eyes and looked suspiciously over to Ruggie who still had no idea what was going on. 

   “No promises.” You sighed, but smiled when Jack nodded at you, signaling that it would be alright. Who were you kidding Ruggie was a hyena man who grew up in the slums. What did he care? Feelings of worry taken care of, you sunk deeper into the water and closed your eyes.

   The feeling that comes with shifting is always a little strange. It’s almost like your skin has been turned to putty and it is remolding itself and when it reaches the desired outcome it snaps back into place and holds like it has been that way the whole time. 

   Once you felt the transformation had completed you righted yourself in the water and peeked an eye open to look at your friends. Ace and Epel had their mouths wide open in a gasp. One that quickly turned into a smile. Jack looked as though he had just witnessed a miracle and Deuce was still in shock. Ruggie’s reaction was by far the most extravagant. His eyes were wide and his mouth was curved into a questioning gape. He had taken several steps back and his ears lay flat on his head. Behind him his tail bristled and stood fairly straight, pushing up the too large shirt. 

   You bit your lip and examined their faces trying to come up with a conclusion to what they were feeling. 

   “That… Is so cool!” Ace blurted out excitedly and ran over to the pool's edge to get a closer look. Deuce and Epel followed him and Jack trotted over as well, but not before snorting at Ruggie. The hyena man looked your form up and down and took in the swirling shades of color that decorated your now sea creature bottom half. He made a small noise before shaking himself and casually patting down the fur on his tail, which was still tense but not as much. 

   “Ok, of all the things I’ve seen. That, I was not expecting.” You giggled at Ruggie’s flustered reaction and felt yourself relax now that you knew pitchforks and torches weren’t coming out. 

   The hyena moved closer to the pool and joined your other friends who were staring at you in awe. You blushed uncontrollably as you felt their gazes roam your colorful body. Decorative markings that spread up to your collarbone changed to a darker shade with your blush.

   “So like can I touch you?” Deuce smacks his hand against Ace’s chest and gives him this look that says “dude you can’t just say that''. You giggle and glide closer to them before lifting your arm which was for the most part pretty human, but had a lavender shade to it and a long silky strip of webbing that shimmered as it moved. The longest tentacle on your body rose out of the water as well and you shivered as the webbing stuck together in an uncomfortable manner. 

   Ace leaned forwards and stroked your arm and tentacle. His eyes were filled with curiosity and wonder. Deuce looked a little more unsure but Epel had no problem reaching out and gently caressing your webbing. Ruggie joined him and Deuce eventually stuck his hand out to stroke your arm, but Jack held back and decided that ultimately he only wanted to look.

   “Wow! This stuff is so soft!” Epel said excitedly. He was generally pretty quiet so you were glad he was comfortable enough to speak out. 

   “It’s so colorful. If we had silks this pretty in the savannah then we’d have lots of money. Say, where could I find more of your kind.” Ruggie’s smirk told you that he was just joking but you glared at him anyways and flicked water his way. 

   The hyena flinched and shook his head before laying his ears back and moving away from the water. Jack and Ace laughed at the antics before Ruggie growled playfully and distracted them from what had happened moments before. 

   It was then that Ace leaned a bit too far forwards and fell straight into the pool. You jumped and swung your tentacles back, instinctively spreading them out to make yourself look bigger. 

   You willed your body to relax as you recovered from the little panic attack and laughed when Ace’s head bobbed to the surface. He sputtered and swam over to the edge and climbed out of the pool. He lay on the concrete and breathed heavily while the boys around him cackled. Ace glared and stood up. 

   “You jerks I’ll show you how you like it.” Deuce shrieked as Ace shoved him into the water. You laughed with everyone else as Deuce came up for air. Sensing a sudden threat of being pushed into the water Ruggie backed up against the gate and watched as Jack pushed Epel in before diving in himself. The five of you giggled and splashed as Ruggie snickered at your antics. 

   You were so glad your new friends didn’t mind your merform. Even better, they really liked it. It felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders as you dived down to swim with your friends. As the five of you splashed and played with Ruggie distracted with your antics, none of you noticed a dark form smirk in the bushes. Nor the click of the camera that he had with him.

----------

   The next day was a nightmare. Apparently someone had spied on you and your friends and photographed you in your merform. People swarmed you asking you all sorts of questions. It was difficult to just get through the halls. Luckily none of the people who stopped and talked to you had anything unkind to say and the stares you received were more curious than malicious but it was still an uncomfortable situation to be in.

   For the most part people who knew you were pretty considerate about your space and privacy. Cater seemed absolutely thrilled to know that you were an octopus but only asked if you were alright with everything going on, instead of bombarding you with questions. 

   Kalim was a little more enthusiastic about the whole situation. Jamil ended up apologizing for him and pulling him away. Vil and Rook subtly commented on your merforms beauty before moving on. Diasomnia rarely came near you but Lilia gave you a sympathetic smile. Trey offered you a few baked sweets as he sensed that you were overwhelmed and as for everyone else you had yet to see them.

   The person you were most worried about seeing though was Azul. He was an octopus merman like you, yet you had never seen his merform. Unless you counted his overblot the only time you had seen him in full shift was in the picture you had borrowed from the museum. 

   He and the Leech twins will probably have an absolute field day over the fact that you’re also a mertype. You worried what Azul was going to think of you hiding it. Over the past few months you had developed a crush on him. You had a plan to confess and everything, but now that the secret was out you were worried that he wasn’t going to like you for keeping it from him. In truth you planned on telling him first, but figured there was no harm in letting your other friends know. Turns out there was and the whole school knew.

   Trapped in your thoughts, you failed to notice the two approaching twins and bumped into them as you turned around a corner.

   “Hiii~ Shrimpy-chan~!” Floyd’s ever changing mood seemed to pleasant as he greeted you with a smile and not a squeeze. 

   “Hello, Y/n. How are you today?” Jade's gentleman persona greeted you but failed to hide the questions and mischief in his eyes. 

   “Just say it already. I know you two already know.” You sighed and watched their faces light up with excitement. Floyd grabbed your arm and took off, dragging you behind him. “Wait!” Soon the three of you arrived at an empty classroom which you were promptly shoved in before the tweels followed, shutting the door behind them.

   “Y/n, my apologies for Floyd’s exuberant behavior, but we have been meaning to speak with you in private since the most recent exposure of your true nature.” Jade was calm and collected as always when he spoke and gently fixed your crumpled uniform which had been shifted while running. 

   “Shrimpy-chan! We have something to tell you!~” Floyd sing-songed before sitting on a desk.

   “What? Wait what is it? And where’s Azul? Wouldn’t he want to speak with me too? If this is about a deal the answer is no.” You folded your arms in front of you and put distance between yourself and the seemingly respectful brother. The twins looked at eachother and you caught a glimpse of something passing through their eyes before Floyd pouted.

   “Aww, what’s wrong with making deals with us? We promise to be real nice this time and not leave you homeless. You could stay with us at Octavinelle!” You rolled your eyes as Floyd giggled and swung his long legs despite the fact that they could easily reach the floor from his seat. 

   “The truth is, Azul is jealous.”

   “What!” You turned and exclaimed at Jade’s statement. The tall mage nodded and continued with a strange look on his face like he wasn’t bothered by this at all. 

   “You are far more beautiful than him in your merform and he is bothered by it. Everyone has always shunned him for his octopus body and now you present yourself as one and everyone goes wild with excitement over your gorgeousness. Something he believes to never have possessed.” 

   You were stunned. Azul was jealous of you. He was upset because you were more beautiful than him. No. You wanted him to love you, not be bothered by you. Why hadn’t you thought of Azul’s insecurities. He just wanted to be an attractive merman and here you were, the same mertype as him and you were advertising your beauty to the world where he had to hide his away due to the fact that he was insecure. 

   Not bothering to say a word you quickly left the room and raced down the hall. You needed to fix this as soon as possible. Otherwise Azul might not like you ever again. Two pairs of mismatched eyes watched your retreat and shone with anticipation. 

   “How long do you think it will take?”

   “Not long Floyd. Luckily she was already prepared before we released the picture.”

----------

   Azul was so over this whole thing. He had rewatched the video and looked at the pictures about 20 times. You were so gorgeous and graceful in your merform; it just made him frustrated that he couldn have been admired for his tentacles. They were simple and slimy so most people hated them yet you were swathed in colorful silks that attracted every creature in the ocean. While most would swim by him or threaten to eat him, any sea animal that came across you would be hypnotised by your beauty. 

   The worst thing about you being an octopus is that it gave him one more reason to tell himself that you will never love him. He was so drab and you were well amazing. Of all the creatures in the sea you had to be a blanket octopus. If you had been a simple mermaid or even better a common octopus like him then surely he would have a chance with you at least. 

   A sudden knock on the door startled the mage and he stood quickly to make sure he looked alright before answering the door. You stood anxiously as he opened the door and grabbed his wrist before he had the chance to shut it. Surprisingly, Azul offered no resistance as you dragged him to the entrance of the aquarium. 

   Octavinelle’s aquarium had two sections, one was for regular fish and the other sea creatures that were on display from the mostro lounge. The other was for the residents. Any and all merfolk could use the aquarium if they felt homesick or separated from their true forms. This was where you chose to place the gift you had made. 

   Coming to a stop you turned and looked at Azul. He looked confused and excited at the same time. You took this as a good sign. 

   “Azul. Will you swim with me?” The merman’s eyes widened and he stood there processing your request for nearly a minute before responding.

   “Sure.”

   Giddy with glee you quickly leapt into the water and shed your clothes before transforming. Rising to the surface you looked up at him from just underneath the surface and he peered back at you.

   Strange. He thought for sure he would feel angry again when he saw you but the darling flush on your face and how you were genuinely happy to swim with him gave him another feeling all together. It bubbled inside of him and made him blush as he slowly lowered himself into the cool water beside you. 

   It had been a while since Azul had consciously shifted so he was a bit worried that he would do it too fast or slow and something would go wrong. Fortunately he was able to shift without incident. Once shifted he suddenly felt very self conscious. As a common octopus he was far more simple and plain compared to your swirling and colorful body. 

   You didn’t seem to mind however as you twirled and circled around Azul excitedly.

   “Come on I have something to show you.” Azul frowned in confusion but followed you regardless. You led him to a sort of grove area that he had never seen before. It was very well hidden but gorgeous as well. 

   You looked back at him excitedly and pushed through the sea vines to an open area where a ray of sunlight fell across and illuminated the gift you had spent months on. Azul’s jaw dropped when he laid eyes on the octopus pot that sat in the middle of the small room. 

   The base was grey and made of some type of stone. Around it sat lavender pillars and corals that surrounded the base except for the entrance. The round opening was smoothed and carved in a delicate design that resembled sea coral. Behind it sat a dark velvet cloth that was tied back with a golden rope.Azul assumed that was to block the entrance or allow for privacy. 

   The inside was decorated with lavish pillows in all sorts of cool shades. They were illuminated by a small yet classy lamp that hung off to the side. The outside of the pot was for the most part smooth and grey with a few purple undertones, but off to one side there sat a carving that resembled the waves and water foam, on top off which held a large pearl that glinted in the sunlight. On the other side a darker grey octopus clung to the top portion of the pot and spread its tentacles out in an elegant manner. Azul took note that the few that rose off the pot appeared to be for hanging things and one looked suspiciously like it was meant to support a staff. 

   You floated in place for what felt like hours as you waited for Azul to react. You reminded yourself to stay patient as he might not respond to it immediately. When he finally did react he did so without words. He simply pointed to himself and raised his eyebrows. You nodded excitedly before bowing your head bashfully. 

   “I’m so sorry that I upset you Azul. I never meant for it to get out in the first place. I was actually planning on telling you first and then giving this octopus pot to you since I know you don’t have one. Then things got messed up and everything and I’m so sorry. I think you’re beautiful in your merform and I hope you’ll accept my apology.” Your face burned when you spoke and you swished your tentacles nervously.

   “What?” You looked up when Azul spoke and saw confusion on his face. “I’m not upset at you. It’s not your fault you’re beautiful. Besides I could never be upset at you, octopus or not. I was distraught because I thought you were so amazing and I’m so plain and that there was no chance that you’d like me back.” You gasped and watched as his face slowly turned pink. 

   He dove into the pot and curled up, mentally berating himself for letting that slip. Shocked you glided over to the entrance of the pot and leaned your head in.

   “Azul. Do you mean that? Do you really like me?” He didn’t respond, you took a deep breath and admitted your own feelings. “Well I like you so…” His head snapped up and he let his expression grow into an ecstatic smile before coughing into his fist and composing himself.

   “Well in that case, do you want to come in and lay with me?” Azul ignored the fact that his face felt like it was on fire and waited as you giggled and moved in beside him. 

   “I’d love to. What do you think of the pot?” The merman smiled gently at you and spoke as he curled his tentacles around you and yours, him. 

   “It’s exquisite. I couldn’t love it more. Where did you get it?” 

   “I made it.” You muttered and flushed at the surprised and impressed look on his face. He shifted closer to you and gripped your hand with his. 

   “You did an excellent job. Thank you.” Your fingers intertwined with his and you pressed your forehead against his. 

   “I love you Azul.” You mumbled sleepily.

   “I love you Y/n.” He spoke before shutting his eyes and enjoying the warmth that spread through the pot. You’re silky webbing fell across the two of you like a blanket and after a stressful morning Azul allowed himself to slip into a comfortable sleep.

----------

   Two pairs of heterochromatic eyes watched the two octopus merpeople sleep soundly inside the pot and smirked with wicked teeth. 

   “How did you know she was an octopus as well?”

   “Floyd, surely you must have noticed. They both smell like takoyaki.” The eels laughed and quietly zipped away, leaving the octopus pot behind.

[coepiteamare]

depth of field

pairing: yoongi x female!reader genre: angst (are we surprised), fluff, reader is an actress, yoongi is photographer warning: a lot of feelings, uhm there’s like 2 lines about sex but it’s not super explicit, bad break ups, not beta read, heartbreak,  header credit: lovely isa! she’s so talented please check her out @monvante​  word count: 9.5k (how and why this became the longest thing i’ve written, i don’t know) rating: sfw though slightly mature (2 lines about sex but not explicit) collab: the valentine’s day collab with a bunch of awesome writers! please check out everyone’s stories! 

summary: yoongi is a nature photographer and you’re an actress who’s spent her entire life in front of the cameras. when he’s hired (against his will) for a photoshoot, he’s not quite expecting you: all smiles and charm and mystery. (alt: you laugh, and yoongi hears the night sky crumble into a thousand shooting stars. he fumbles with the settings, his heart rattling in his chest like the camera in his hands, but for the first time, the picture doesn’t do the sight in front of him justice.) A/N: this is....so late because i am big dumb + life changes + writing is hard. i have extremely mixed feelings on this one, but if you do read it, i hope it makes you feel something. if you listen to epik high, a lot of this was written while listening to “sleepless in _________”. 

[Triptych: Sleepless In The City.JPEG]

[alt.image: Black and white triptych of a view outside a bedroom window. The position of the shot is the same in all three: all of them are directly facing an open window depicting the Seoul skyline. Towards the bottom of the picture, the edge of a bed can be seen: a plaid blanket with a light coloured bed frame. Right below the window is a dark wood dresser with a glass of water on top. At the center of the frame is a square, side hung window with light coloured (white) curtains on the sides. The first frame depicts a light blue coloured sky. There’s a lens flare at the top right of the corner. The second frame depicts a gradient sky. There’s light from the buildings shining through. The third frame depicts a darker sky, but the building lights are still on. The glass of water lies in the same position through the pictures, with little to no change in water amount.]

There’s a loud bzzt bzzt coming from the side of his bed as sleep clings to his eyelashes and glues his eyes shut, exhaustion still running through his veins. His fingers fumble, groping in the darkness, for the source of the noise until his fingers clasp around his phone and silence it. He rubs his face in his pillow and lets himself settle in again, sleep creeping back when—bzzt, bzzt—there’s another round of vibrations from his phone. Yoongi knows he turned on the do not disturb mode, so he contemplates answering as his fingers make contact with his phone, before pressing the side button and turning it off. 

He shuts his eyes, but sleep doesn’t call his name this time around. Someone else does, as the door swings open.

“Yoongi!” 

Yoongi groans and pulls the covers over his head, letting the weighted blanket settle around his body, but Hoseok peels it off his body without a struggle. 

“You could have called when you came back,” Hoseok opens the black out curtains, afternoon light flooding through the window and making Yoongi’s vision dance. 

“You could have called before you barged in.” 

“I did,” Hoseok settles on the edge of his bed, laughing when Yoongi kicks him off, “you didn’t answer.” 

“I was busy.” He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, the afterglow of his dreams fading from his mind. 

Hoseok looks at the suitcase still packed at the corner of his bed, at the instant noodle cups on the counter. “I see that.” 

Yoongi shrugs and reaches for the camera bag on his nightstand, fiddling with the zippers and refusing to meet Hoseok’s eyes. 

It’s quiet before there’s a sigh that paints the silence between them. Hoseok reaches his hand out, eyes a little soft, smile a little apologetic, and Yoongi gives him the camera. 

“So how was Greenland?”

“Cold. Colder than here. Not green at all.” Hoseok laughs at that, and perhaps it’s the weather, the lack of people Yoongi has seen the past few months, or Hoseok’s sunny disposition dispelling the shadows, but there’s a small warmth that blooms through Yoongi. “It was nice though. Nice pictures.” 

“I can see that. Did you have an exhibition in mind for these?”

“No. I just wanted a change of pace for a bit.” he clears his throat, trying to unstick the words clinging to his esophagus. “New environment. Clear my head. Look for new inspiration.” 

Hoseok hands him back the camera. “I signed you up for RKIVE LAB’s Valentine’s Day exhibition.”  Yoongi stops fiddling with the buttons and grips the camera  a little tighter. “Portraits of love. Pictures of people required.”

“I don’t take pictures of people.”

“You used to. Before.” Hoseok doesn’t say it—knows to shut his mouth even before Yoongi glares at him—but the presence of the words stains the air like an unwanted lens flare smudged across the picture. The weight of it lingers, glaringly obvious in the silence, as heavy as the blanket curled up at Yoongi’s feet. 

“Used to. Not anymore.” 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t do it again.”

“And that doesn’t mean I want to. Besides, I’m not ready for another exhibition.” 

“Yoongi,” Hoseok takes a seat on the bed and this time, Yoongi doesn’t chide him for it. “Your last exhibition was a year ago. You stopped photographing people for 8 months. 4 months ago, you decided—out of the blue, mind you—to pack up and visit Greenland, 2 weeks before your exhibition. Not only was PR an absolute nightmare, but you also scared me. I was worried about you.”

There’s a sense of guilt that trickles through him at Hoseok’s words. Yoongi hugs his knees to his chest and tucks his chin over them. He’d sink into the floor if he could, let it swallow him whole if it meant he could avoid the conversation, but knowing Hoseok, he’d continue, even when it closed back up. 

“You need to let go,” Hoseok squeezes his shoulder. 

“I need to sleep. I’m still jet lagged.” 

“It’s been a week since you’ve come back!” 

“Exactly,” he pouts, and tries to reach for his blanket, but Hoseok gently slaps his hands away. His voice softens when he opens his mouth, insecurity painting the edges.“I just don’t think I’m ready for an exhibit. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

“I think you just need to try.”

The sigh that leaves his body doesn’t do much for the heaviness that he can’t seem to dispel. He’s tried. Tried to take pictures, tried to photograph people, but he doesn’t know how to capture them without the lens of heartbreak, without finding pieces of his ex hidden in filters. He’s tried to forget, tried to remember, tried to drown everything out to the bitter taste of alcohol, and nothing worked. He tries, and nothing works. 

“I don’t know how to take pictures of people anymore,” Yoongi says weakly. 

Hoseok’s smile is bright, too bright, the picture of false reassurance. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve already made a call.”

[Ready Or Not.JPEG]

[alt. Image: An out of focus, blurry, god shot, full body photograph of a girl. She wears a short red dress with thin straps and black platform boots. There’s a pink and green image/texture projected on top of her as she poses with her arms stretched over her head. The woman is not at the centre of frame, but more towards the right. The photograph appears to be taken hastily, as if the photographer was falling down when taking the shot.]

Yoongi’s forgotten how much light is involved with studio shoots: the moment he steps into the studio, there’s a flash of bright light, and there’s small spots of light dancing in the corner of his vision. He wants to go home, curl back into his cotton sheets, and hide under the covers. 

It’s convenient, he’ll admit. Outdoor photography, especially nature photography, means hours and hours of planning ahead, of trekking into the wilderness and adjusting lenses and camera angles, and tripod placements to get the perfect shot, only to have something—be it the sun, or a bug, or an animal, or a tree that decides to fall at that moment—interfere and ruin the moment. But indoor photography means that everything gets to be controlled, adjustable to his whims.

Yoongi fiddles with his camera settings, finger nervously itching for something to do in the unfamiliar environment. He’s not sure if he likes these kinds of photographs, the ones scripted and tweaked until perfection is smudged against the frame of the picture. He likes spontaneity, likes the unpredictability of nature, but he also likes the idea that everything can be adjusted, picture perfect, to the way he wants it. (No one leaves, no one hurts. Just pictures. Just his ideas.)

“I didn’t know we were getting a new photographer.” 

He spins around and almost stumbles backwards at the sight of you. He could easily have deemed you as one of the set pieces: clothes perfectly pressed, skin glossy, not a hair out of place. You're brilliant and dazzling and beautiful, pressurised to perfection, and Yoongi doesn’t know if he likes that. Doesn’t like the crisp edges of your pants, the sharp angles of your shoulders. 

“My name is Y/N. It’s nice to work with you.”

He stares at the hand in front of him for a second before wiping his palm on his pants. Your smile doesn’t fade as Yoongi gingerly shakes your hand. “Yoongi. I’m just here to watch Vante on shoot. I haven’t photographed people in a while, and our agent thought it would help me to watch him in action.” 

The way your eyes sparkle, light up brighter than the studio lights, feels uncanny: he knows he’s seen it before, but he’s not sure where. It stirs up a familiar feeling in his tummy, like the anticipation that builds just as he’s about to press the click of a shutter. 

“I’m sure you’re a lot better than you think you are,” your smile is warm, but it sends a chill down his spine. It feels wrong, like he’s stuck in the wrong picture frame, the wrong background. The ground is blurry, his head is light, and when he blinks, everything feels cold. 

“You’re a lot better than you think you are, Yoongi. I’ve seen the photos. I know you,” his voice is warm, and Yoongi can hear the smile in the way he grips his hands. “I want to see the exhibit you put up, and I know other people will too.” 

“Hey,” there’s a jolt of electricity when you touch him. He blinks, and your face is in front of his, brows knitted. “You okay? I lost you for a moment.”

“Fine,” his voice is scratchy, so he coughs to clear it. “I’m fine. Just-uhm-it’s been a minute. Memories. I haven’t stepped foot in a studio for a while.”

“You must have loved it. Taking pictures of people,” when he tilts his head and tries to make sense of your words, you smile and let go of his shoulder. “You wouldn’t have had such a visceral reaction if you didn’t love it. I’m a firm believer that the things we love never leave us. So you’ll find that spark again. I believe in you.”

When the shoot starts, Yoongi moves around, trying to remember what it was like to work with other people other than him, what it’s like to capture the soul of a human being through a split second. But his mind is still standing where you left him, trying to digest your words to the tune of shutter sounds and someone else’s voice. 

All throughout the shoot, he wants to puke, wants to unclog the memories that won’t drain and be forgotten. But they keep playing—over and over and over—and refuse to stop. He talks to Vante in a daze, but he’s unable to wake up from the voice that he hears over and over again—you’ll find that spark again, Yoongi. I believe in you—until your voice cuts through the fog. 

“Wait!” he grabs your wrist, and quickly lets go when you turn back, eyes wide. “Wait. i-uhm-have an exhibition and I was wondering if you would be interested. In being the subject.”

“I’m flattered, but-” you pause and bit your lip, eyebrows furrowed, and there’s that feeling again, the click of a puzzle piece falling into place: everything feels all too familiar and foreign at once, like a dream he knew long ago, a photograph he’s taken and forgotten about. Jamais vu and deja vu all at once.  

It’s stupid, he knows. But there’s something about you that he doesn’t know how to let go. He’s not sure he’s ready to let go. 

“What’s your exhibit on?”

“Love.” He takes a sharp breath in. The word feels a sucker punch to the gut, like touching a wound that hasn’t healed. “What it means to fall in love.”

He knows his face gives away more than he wants to, but you don’t press him for answers. You continue to smile and ask him other questions about his photography instead, but something about the way you pretend like everything is fine reminds him of him, and everything hurts more. He answers the questions, tries to see you instead of his outline over yours, but still sees him in the way your eyes smile, in the sharp raise of your brows, and the quick way you navigate his defenses and gives him his space. 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for an exhibit.”

“I don’t think we ever know if we’re ready for anything,” you smile, and he feels nauseous again, like something is trying to crawl out of him. He hears the voices in his head crash over him like a wave, drowning out the sounds of everything and everyone else. 

How do you know you’re ready? He hears his voice wobble from the weight of his sorrow, quiver from the pressure of composure. He can’t meet his eyes. 

“I don’t think we’re ever ready for anything, Yoongi. But we don’t know until we try.”

“But we do it anyway. Because we never know until we try, right?”

“Right,” he repeats soullessly. (He wasn’t ready then. He doesn’t know if he’s ready now. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready to move on.)

“So I’ll do it.”

Yoongi snaps out of his reverie at your words, blinks away the fog. “Pardon?”

“I’ll do it. I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do this,” you purse your lips. “I do have a favour to ask though.” 

“What is it?”

The smile that spreads over your face, slow and cheshire, makes him grip his camera tighter. “How do you feel about going to a party?”

[Are You In Love.JPEG]

[alt image. Nighttime. A girl in a white dress on a rooftop with skyscrapers behind her. Her hair is blown back by the wind. Although her face is mostly turned away from the camera, there’s a hint of a smile on her face. Her eyes are closed as she spins around, dress billowing around her. The ends of the dress are unseen because the photograph cuts off at what would be her knees to show the cityline behind her. The skyscrapers are out of focus, blurry, so the girl is highlighted. Despite the lights in the background and the moon in the corner, she is the brightest piece in the photograph.]

Yoongi has never been a fan of parties or crowds. He doesn’t like the rush of people, of bodies pressed against each other as they slide across the floor; he hates how the lights are too dim and too bright. It’s too loud, bass amplifying his insecurities and dampening his social skills. 

Even at this gala, stuffed with people with important positions and famous titles, where the music is moderately loud and the tables are posh with red velvet tablecloths, Yoongi feels out of place. His glass flute feels awkward in his hand, tie a little too tight no matter how much he pulls it down. He knows he doesn’t belong here (or there or anywhere. It was always him who belonged and Yoongi who followed): security had stopped him before he entered telling him “paparazzi not allowed,” and gave him a once over when he fished out the invitation from his pocket, hesitantly letting him enter the venue and side-eyeing him the entire time. Minutes tick by, and there’s only so many hors d'oeuvres s he can devour, so he pulls out his phone to send you a text of rushed excuses (i have food poisoning. My pipes burst. My car broke down?) and hasty apologies. Just as he manages to get halfway to the exit, squeezing in between crowds, he sees you. 

A smile dawns over your face, and all his insecurities melt into the background. “I’ve been looking all over for you”

He points towards the buffet at the back. “They have good crab puffs.” 

You laugh at that, and he feels his cheeks stretch into a smile. The silence that hangs over the two of you now feels comfortable, like the world is dimming down to highlight you both, and Yoongi takes the moment to watch your eyes sparkle under the crystal chandeliers twinkling above you. You look at him, quirk an eyebrow and nod towards the exit. “Want to get out of here?” 

“Yes please.” 

You grab his hand, lace your fingers with his, and pull him up the stairs to the roof, letting go to run to the edge. He feels where your palm was in his, the loss of your warmth, and wants to reach back out to you. 

“How pretty.” The wind is cold, sinking teeth through skin and tearing through hair, but you cross your arms and fight back, planted firmly where you are to look at the view beneath you: small glimpses at people living their lives. 

Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of you. “Yeah. Pretty.”

“I like coming to the rooftops at parties. Sometimes, when the world is too loud and too much, I go up to the rooftop and I just stand here. ” your teeth chatter, and Yoongi rushes to take off his coat and drape it over your shoulders. Your fingers brush against his and something about you, he realises, feels like a fever dream: hot, hazy, and electric, even in the bitter chill of the winter winds. “I come up to the rooftop and I just look at people living their lives and wonder what I would be doing if I wasn’t here.”

Something about the way you look, empty and hollow, carves a hole in Yoongi’s chest. His fingers itch to reach for the shutter, bring it back to his eye and catch you in his view, but he fiddles with the camera strap around his neck instead. “What does it feel like? Being at the top?” 

What does it feel like? To be at the top? Yoongi writes and deletes over and over and over again. 

Your laughter sounds as bitter as the wind, but your smile is still fixed in place when you turn your body to meet his. “Like a rollercoaster. Only it’s going backwards as it goes up, so I can see the floor, see the bottom. I am always aware of how far I have to fall. I see the damage before it’s done, so I am always anticipating the drop.” 

Your shoulders sag, his jacket slipping down, and Yoongi, for a moment, thinks he sees stars glimmering in your eyes, catching the light of the city and threatening to fall. But when he blinks, all traces of it are gone and you’re back to the girl in the ballroom, smile shy and coy and knowing. 

“So what about you, photographer? What does it feel like to be in love?” 

His brows furrow and there’s a flush of heat blooming on his cheeks. His heart beats a little faster, staccato against his ribcage, like it’s trying to outrun the shame of being discovered. He’s not sure how you know, so all he can do is stutter. “I don’t-I mean-”

You raise your eyebrow, quirk your head to the side. “Isn’t that your exhibit theme? Explorations of love?”

“Oh,” before he can stop it, a film strip of memories starts playing through his head, snapshots of a relationship shelved in the back of his closet. It’s a slow slide show that sticks to his throat with every image, printed and smudged into the corners of his thoughts. He feels the corset of his ribcage tighten until he’s breathless, so he looks everywhere. Everywhere but you. “I don’t really know what love is supposed to feel like anymore.”

When your hand gently presses against his chest, Yoongi’s eyes widen, feet gently fumbling backwards from the chill of your fingers. “Does it hurt here?”

“What?”

“Are you heartbroken?” 

The words fall off your lips casually, like you were asking him how he took his coffee (no sugar, no cream) or how he liked his steak, and not plunging into his insecurities the way the cold of your fingers sink into his skin. The two of you blink in silence as Yoongi struggles to find the words. Everything feels wrong, his tongue twisting and falling to form the correct sounds—

“Stop thinking about it. Feel it here.” you press a little harder against his chest, “Are you heartbroken?” 

(Empty coffee cups, songs unfinished, laughter in the walls that he’s unable to scrub off. Yoongi remembers all of it.)

“Yeah.” it’s quiet, his voice stuck in his chest, but he sees the corners of your eyes soften and knows you hear his honesty over the howling wind. “I am.”

You retract your hand and hug his coat a little closer. “I don’t think there’s just one form of love, just as I don’t think there’s just one way to love someone. We love differently, and we love different people differently. Heartbrokenness is just another form of love. Just because they’re not there doesn’t change the way you love them or the fact that you love them. It just means all the love you have to give is still sitting here,” you bring your hand back to his chest, cover his heartbeat, “with no place to go. Isn’t that love?”

Isn’t that love? Seokjin asks him, sitting in the corner of Yoongi’s room. The sun casts a golden glow over his skin, kisses his dimples, and Yoongi swears Seokjin has always been more ethereal than mortal. “You take photos and bring me food when I forget to leave my desk because that’s what you know how to do. I write you songs and love letters because that’s what I know how to do. We say I love you in different ways, but does that make it any less love?

“I guess it doesn’t make it any less love.” 

You look his way and laugh, brilliant and dazzling and beautiful, and nothing in the sky can compare: not the moon, nor the comets, nor the galaxies. You laugh, and Yoongi hears the sky crumble into a thousand shooting stars. He fumbles with the settings, his heart rattling in his chest like the camera in his hands, but for the first time, the image through the lens doesn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

But he tries anyway. He presses down on the shutter and tries to stuff your laughter into a freeze frame, even though he knows it won’t compare. 

It could never. 

[____Struck.JPEG]

[Alt Image: A girl sits with her chin over her knees next to a floor length window as a rainstorm blurs the background into hazy lights. The lighting is dark, but there’s a flash of lightning outside as it lights up the girl’s face. She stares outside her window, at the sky, deep in contemplation.]

Yoongi finds that Seoul sparkles when you’re next to him. Even the bitter winter winds that blow through his parka can’t steal the warmth of your hand in his when the two of you walk through the streets. The two of you start to spend more time together, getting food and eating in your apartment and taking pictures of nature. You’ll have glasses and a cap and a mask on, and there’ll be more of you he can’t see than he can, and still he finds you to be the brightest star in the night sky. But he likes you best like this: dressed with a smile and his t-shirt, face free of the traces of your day, in bed with him. He’s not sure when he’s found himself to be at home in your place, but he finds himself there instead of his studio apartment. Outside the window of your penthouse apartment, he can see the Seoul skyline and skyscrapers: if he looks down, he can see smudges of people walking through the streets, living about their daily lives. 

Sometimes, he’ll wake up in the middle of the night to find you sitting on the floor, against the floor length window, looking at the world below you. 

“Come back to bed,” he’ll murmur, sleep still fogging his vision, and you’ll smile, set your tea on the nightstand, and wrap your arms around him as he pulls you closer to him until the andante of your heartbeats lull him to sleep. 

Tonight, however, your head is leaned up against the glass, watching as the rain pours down, and there’s something about the moment that makes Yoongi reach for the camera to take a quick shot. He knows the lighting is off and the shadows are dark, but something about the way you’ve tucked your knees under your chin and folded in on yourself makes you seem so small, so different from the girl he sees on the billboards and magazine covers and television shows. 

You turn around when the flash goes off. “I didn’t know you were awake.” 

“The thunder,” he explains, just as another flash of light strikes through the sky. You hum, but don’t move towards him: this time, you look back out the window. He’s tempted to wait for the lightning to strike again so he could have the shot of your face illuminated in light, but the image through his viewfinder looks so different from what he’s used to, so he takes the camera with him and sits down across from you. He leans his face against the cool of the glass.

“Hey,” you smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. He sees the shadows under your eyes, the build up from over night shoots, and it tugs his heart. There’s something beautiful about you like this, in the normalcy. 

“Hey,” the two of you sit in the silence for a minute. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Another flash of lightning, then a roll of thunder. “Just thinking about how many people are out there, just living their lives. I wonder if they all know me, if they have an opinion of me, if they’ve seen me act. I wonder who I am to them, if I am anybody at all.”

“What do you mean?”

You pull your fingers away from the glass, but don’t look at him. “I feel as though I am always playing a character. So, I wonder what character they know me as. If they would be interested in knowing who I am.” 

His hand reaches out to yours, and he moves his body closer to yours, until your knees are knocking against his and your legs are entwined. “I’m interested.” 

Another flash. You smile, but it fades as quickly as the lightning does. “What about you? Anything on your mind? You seemed pretty distracted earlier.”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to not meet your eyes. There’s a slew of umbrellas below, a bunch of colourful blobs against the pavement. (Seokjin liked the rain. Do you like the rain? He’s not sure.) 

“It’s nothing.” He can’t meet your eyes. 

“Is it hard to let them go? The one who broke your heart?”

Yoongi hears the way your voice softens, the way it carries through the room gently, the same way you asked him if he was heartbroken up on the roof weeks ago. You’re always a little more perceptive then he gives you credit for, a little too good at reading in between the lines. He lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah he is. I still think about him sometimes. Sometimes, I still hear his voice in my head.” 

He feels your gaze on him, but neither of you say anything for a while. 

He knows you have a busy day tomorrow, jam packed with schedules and meetings and shoots and bits of sleep in between. (Not that your days are ever not busy. You’re always running from here to there, a blur of motion in the screenshots of his memories.) But the two of you just look out the window, at the storm that refuses to quell, and listen to the rain fall. 

He wakes up next to the lingering warmth of your body heat, your shampoo still clinging to the pillows and sheets. There’s not much to do today, so he takes his time getting ready to go back to his apartment and edit. Just as he’s putting his toothbrush into your toothbrush holder, his phone starts to vibrate.

Before he’s even said hello, Hoseok’s voice cuts through the phone. “How’s your exhibit coming along?” 

“Good morning, Hoseok. How was your sleep? Mine was lovely, thank you for asking.” 

There’s a sigh that comes through the phone. “I slept great. So how’s your exhibit?”

“It’s coming along.”

“Word on the street is that you’re getting close to Y/N.”

He catches a look at himself from the entrance mirror and is glad Hoseok can’t see him right now. There’s a small constellation on the dip of his collarbone from a couple nights ago. “We’re working together on the exhibit, yeah.”

“Yoongi, I’m serious. I’m glad that you’re editing and taking photos; I really am. I just think—if you are more than just coworkers—you should take it slow. You remember what happened last time-”

“It’s not like that this time Hoseok.”

“I know. But it’s happened before. You always fall too hard, too fast and then you don’t know how to dig yourself out of the hole when it’s over. “

Yoongi gently shuts the door behind him, shoves his free hand into his coat pocket. “When do I need to send you the pictures?” 

Another sigh. This one is heavier than the other. “Next Friday.”

“Alright. I’ll see you then.”

“Just take care of yourself, Yoongi.”

“I know,” there’s a hum from the other end before he presses end call. “Trust me, I know.” 

[Love Looks Pretty On You.JPEG]

[Alt Image: A girl turning around to smile at the camera as she holds the hand of the photographer. There’s a lens flare at the upper left corner of the picture. She glows as she smiles, sunlight hitting her cheekbones. The picture is a bust shot, and though the girl is in the centre of frame, she is slightly out of focus: the photo is mainly focused on the interlocked hands due to the depth of field.]

It’s strange how in love you are with the mundane. You like coffeeshop dates, holding hands in public, and the ability to walk down the streets without covering up your face, things Yoongi has never thought twice about. He prefers time spent in doors, tucked away with food and natural lighting. But you prefer the outdoors, the sun on your face, even if it isn’t the great outdoors. No, you like pavement and parks and everything in between if it means you don’t have to cover up. 

“I’ve never really had that,” you told him once, mouth stuffed with street food. “I’ve always been conscious of the way people look at me, how they’re going to view me, and the eyes. I’m always aware of people’s eyes on me. Growing up in the spotlight, working in this industry for so long meant I don’t get to have the normal things in life.”

So he tries to take you out more, though more often than not, it ends with the two of you running away from shadows and bright lights. More often than not, the two of you find your way to his or your apartment, tucked away from the eyes of everyone else with take out spread across the floor. He dreads the moment you pull your hands away from him, when the hands on the clock move too quickly for his taste. Tonight, however, he has you all to himself. 

So, he takes his time: delicately arranges the bouquet of purple across your chest and up your thighs, gently plucks your moans from your lips, and plants kisses on the field of your shoulder blades when the bloom of pleasure becomes too much. 

Your chest gently rises and falls under the white sheet, while his heart rapidly flutters inside his ribcage. Before he knows it, his fingers are on camera, trying to immortalise the moment before time takes it away from him too. 

When the shutter goes off, you bring your hand to his, pull his body to yours, and nuzzle your face in his shoulder. “So.”

“So?”

“Exhibition soon. Have you figured it out?” You pull back and trace your finger along the constellation you drew on to his chest. “What it feels like to fall in love?” 

He’s not sure. It feels fast: time seems to slip through his fingers when he’s with you. It feels slow: every moment is a picture frame, a freeze frame of a small infinity. It feels quiet: neither of you are loud, reveling in the silence and the quiet, sharing the same breath. It feels loud: you smile and he hears the sirens go off, ringing his mind until it’s drowned out by the pounding in his chest. I don’t know. It just feels different with you, he wants to say, but it sounds stupid in his head. It’s similar to how he felt like with Seokjin, but brighter, a saturation of colours and experiences. 

“Feels like you,” he tugs you closer. 

His brows furrow when you reach away from him, and he tries to pull you back: he reaches for your hand, but you slip away from him with a small smile. “Tea. I’ll be back.” 

He hears the pitter patter of your footsteps as you walk into the hallway, and he waits for you to come back. He waits and waits, until his eyelids grow too heavy.

When he blinks again, the light is shining through your curtains. The blanket is tucked under his chin, but the bed is empty. He rolls over, but it’s cold. 

The pillow doesn’t smell like you.

[Apparition.JPEG]

[Alt Image: A picture of someone’s eyes. The eyes are staring directly into the lens. One eye is lighter than the other, due to the angle of the sunlight. Although they are in the center of frame, the face is turned slightly to the side, as though they turned around for this picture.]

It gets harder and harder to meet you through the interstices of your schedule: you text him less and less, and he finds himself trying to find every possible reason to see you. 

Did you eat? 

Are you free anytime soon?

I miss you.

Every short text finds an even shorter response, crammed between short breaks. He spends more time fiddling with his phone, shooting up at the glow of his screen, than he does with his camera. His camera sits on his nightstand, untouched for the past few days: every time he tries to take a picture, all he can see is you. You laughing at dumb cat videos he sends you. You squealing in delight as the unpredictable Seoul weather brings rainfall. You leaning your head against the glass, lost in thought. 

He sees you in unfinished pizza boxes and unfinished netflix shows and half empty mugs strewn around. He finds you in everything. So when you show up at his doorstep, pizza box in hand and hat over your head, he almost dismisses you as an apparition. 

You stick your foot in his doorway to stop him from shutting the door. “You’re not kicking me out so soon? Not when I brought pizza?” 

He takes the pizza box from you, still a little unsure if you’re real, but then you call his name.

“Hi Yoongi,” you smile, and it’s so much prettier than he remembers. He knows you’ve had a long day—eyes glazed, shoulders drooping, smile falling—and something about the way you’re trying to hold your smile makes a corner of his chest squeeze tighter, until it hurts to breathe. He’s not sure what to say, not sure how to move past the breathlessness, so the two of you wordlessly chew on your pizzas. 

When the tension grows thick, the silence hard to breathe through, the clump of feelings in the pit of his stomach feels harder to hold on to, so he blurts out, “I love you.” 

His confession rings through the room, echoes in the silence, and crashes against your chest. Though neither of you say anything, he continues to hear the ripples in his head, his voice repeating over and over again. You don’t look at him, and his leg won’t stop bouncing, his hands won’t stop fidgeting with the camera settings. 

“I love you,” he says once more, just in case you didn’t hear it. He hopes your silence is because you didn’t hear it the first time. He knows better, from the way you bite your lip (your nervous habit) to the way you shrink into yourself (another tick he’s noticed). 

“I should leave. I have an early shoot tomorrow.” you stand. The smile plastered on your face makes him want to hurl, too reminiscent of your first meeting when you held him at an arm’s distance. When Seokjin held him at an arm’s distance, right before he told Yoongi I don’t think I’m the person you’re in love with. I don’t think this is going to work out. When Seokjin smiled and told him I’m sorry but wasn’t sorry enough to answer the phone when Yoongi’s heart was bloody and broken and drenched in alcohol. 

“But I love you,” it’s quiet and hoarse this time, and Yoongi doesn’t know if you can hear it over the sound of his heart breaking, but you turn around. The smile on your face—brilliant and dazzling and empty—burns something in him, the hollowness of his chest suddenly swelling with rage.“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“That,” Yoongi motions to you, brows furrowed and anger coating his tongue. “Stop looking at me like I'm a screenplay and a set, like you’re trying to read me and understand what I want. I don’t want anything from you.”

“That’s ridiculous. Everyone wants something.”

“Fine. I want you to be you. not what looks best on screen, not what you think I want you to be. But you. I want you to be you.”

“What’s that supposed to be like? Being me?” the anger lacing your voice, the way your smile drops quickly off your face, makes Yoongi’s anger fizzle out into a cold chill. “You don’t realise how biased the camera is, how you’re seeing the picture the way you want to, the way you want to frame things? Tell me you look at me and you don’t see what could be changed. that you don’t see how you would adjust the exposure, how to narrow or widen the depth of field.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, mouth glued shut and sticking together with shame. There’s a heat licking up his neck to his cheeks that burns through his skin and into his chest that only grows hotter when you continue. 

“My job is to give people what they want, squeeze myself into a character and a script. Become a fantasy they can project on. I’ve spent my entire life being different people and fitting myself into the role they want me to play. I don't exist, Yoongi. I only exist between action and cut. I am constantly in some form of a take. I am constantly shooting different movies for different people, being the different characters they want me to be. You want something from me too, Yoongi. Don’t you get it?”

He forces himself to look up at you. 

“Did you like me for me, Yoongi?” You tilt your head, eyes tired. “Or did you like me because something about me reminded you of your ex?”

Yoongi recoils, hurt spilling out of his veins. He opens and closes his mouth, but nothing falls out. Instead, it’s another roll of memories that plays through his head. 

I think we should break up, Seokjin tells him and Yoongi drops his fork. When you look at me, it feels like you’re seeing someone else, a version of me that exists only in your head. 

Who are you seeing when you take a picture, Yoongi? 

Who am I to you? 

What do you see through the lenses?  

When you smile this time, it’s more of a grimace, like his silence gives you an answer. Your eyes fall to the floor, shoulders trembling as you laugh humorlessly, and you start to leave.

Yoongi tries to say something—anything, the correct thing—and frantically pulls at his brain. “But I love you.”

That makes you stop. You stay at the doorstep, hand gripping the doorknob, but don’t turn to face him. He waits for you to say something, anything, for you to turn around. But you don’t. 

You open the door and close it behind you, never looking back. 

He’s alone again. 

[Blank.JPEG]

[alt.image: A black square. Darkness. The absence of light. The shade of broken heart. Is it nothing or everything? Is it too much or too little?]

Everything about you is intentional, from the tilt in your head (precise and exact, calculated) to the gleam in your eyes. The way your lips curl as you smile. 

He wonders if his broken heart was also something written into the script, if he was playing the role of a character he never signed up for, if his broken heart was something you calculated from the very start, just like the angle of your head tilts and degrees of your smile. 

His camera suddenly feels all too heavy, too fragile, and too much like his heart. If he wasn’t a photographer, would he have met you? In another world, would he have seen you through the view of his camera, just a subject and nothing else? No coffee dates and rooftop talks, no heartbreaks? He grips his camera tighter, and a flare of anger rushes through him, filtering every other thought and piercing through his vision. When he blinks and the lights settle, there’s a dull sense of pain near his foot and a dent in the wall. 

There’s shards of broken lenses on the floor, but he shuffles back to bed, sob clawing at his throat. 

Maybe you were like a film camera, brilliant and beautiful at first glance. Until the film is dipped into chemistry and developed and the errors are hung out to dry. 

So why does it hurt so much? 

There’s a loud bzzt bzzt coming from the side of his bed as sleep clings to his eyelashes and glues his eyes shut, exhaustion still running through his veins. His fingers fumble, groping in the darkness, for the source of the noise until his fingers clasp around his phone and silence it. He rubs his face in his pillow and lets himself settle in again, sleep creeping back when—bzzt, bzzt—there’s another round of vibrations from his phone. Yoongi knows he turned on the do not disturb mode, so he doesn’t contemplate answering when his fingers make contact with his phone, pressing the side button to shut it off. 

He shuts his eyes, but sleep doesn’t call his name. Neither does Hoseok.

Instead Hoseok gently shuts the door after slipping off his shoes at the entrance. He makes his way over towards the bed, and Yoongi pulls the covers over his head. He waits for the tug, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a gentle dip to the side of him when Hoseok takes a seat, silent. 

They sit like that for a while, Yoongi gently breathing—up and down, up and down—with a chest that feels broken and a heart that rattles inside his ribcage. He still feels the hum of alcohol in his system, sloshing in his lungs as they rise and fall.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” Hoseok’s voice vibrates through the silence. “I’m sorry you were hurt. But you can’t keep yourself holed up.”

Yoongi shifts under the blankets, but doesn’t say anything. He wonders if sleep would drag him under if he pretended long enough. His head is throbbing, and he wants another drink, but he knows Hoseok won’t let him while he’s still here. He knows because the last time he was heartbroken, he shut himself inside his apartment for two months until he was more alcohol than water. He stopped going out, stopped answering phone calls, stopped taking pictures because everything reminded him of Seokjin. 

Now that his camera is broken, he can’t be reminded of you. He drinks up until he can forget, until the film of memories is damaged, so he can fall asleep. When he wakes up and he remembers you still, he drinks up again to forget, shot after shot after shot. He doesn’t want to remember. 

“I called RKive. Told them you weren’t doing it.”

“Okay,” he whispers. Yoongi’s so tired and his head hurts, and he just wants to get this over with as quickly as he can so Hoseok can leave and Yoongi can pour out his sorrows into a shot glass that never seems to run dry. 

I don’t want to be the reason you don’t do this. 

He wishes he could stop hearing your voice in his head, stop seeing you in every corner of his room, stop smelling your perfume on his sheets. He just wants to go to sleep, dream in black. Stop remembering you. 

“I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

“Okay,” he whispers. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Are you heartbroken?

“Yeah,” the tears fall and his shoulders shake when he sobs. “Yeah, I think I’m heartbroken.”

“Oh Yoongi,” Hoseok hugs him close, and Yoongi lets out the wail that’s been stuck in his chest the past week. For the first time, he wants to let go instead of take in, so he weeps into Hoseok’s chest, until his throat is dry from the sounds it’s making. His body trembles from the stuttering in his chest and the remnants of his sobs. 

“I just want to stop hurting,” he hiccups into Hoseok’s shoulder as Hoseok gently pats him on the back. 

“I know. I know.”

“How do I stop hurting?”

Hoseok gently peels himself away from Yoongi until he’s looking at him directly in the eyes. “You have to learn to find closure. Whether that’s talking to her, making art, or just going about your routines until it doesn’t hurt anymore. You have to try.”

“What if I’m not ready to move on?”

I don’t think we’re ever ready. But we do it anyway. Because we never know until we try, right?

“Moving on isn’t a step; it’s a goal, Yoongi,” Hoseok squeezes his hands. “You can work towards it. But it’s a conscious choice we make and conscious steps we take. And when you make those steps, it gets easier to breathe and visit places you used to. And one day, you’ll look around and realise that you’ve done it. Maybe not completely, but enough. But you can’t just hole yourself up in your apartment or flee the country. You have to try.”

Hoseok’s eyes are soft when Yoongi looks at him, and Yoongi understands that he’s never allowed himself to move on from Seokjin, just slapped a bandaid over his wound and pretended it didn’t exist. When he met you, he used you as a gauze to staunch the injury and called it healing. He didn’t notice that he bled all over you, didn’t see that you were bleeding over the red of his blood on your wounds. You were trying to tell him you were hurting, and he was too fixated on how similar you were to Seokjin, how he found love again, to hear. 

“Hoseok,” Yoongi reaches out for his arm, squeezes his hand. “I want to do it.”

“Do what?”

“The exhibit,” his voice is muffled under his insecurities, but he wants this. “I want to do it.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he lies. “I think I need to do it. For me. To move on.” He’s not sure if he’s ready; he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready. So he takes the step anyways. 

Yoongi knows Hoseok is thrilled: he hasn’t stopped smiling since before the exhibition, when there was a crowd of people outside waiting to enter the exhibition, and even before that, when Yoongi was collecting the photos and taking more. Yoongi’s worked tirelessly through the nights to meet the Valentine’s Day exhibit deadline, but now that he’s here, he’s a little proud of himself. 

He should find Hoseok, tell him thank you. He should also talk to Namjoon, the owner, and congratulate Jimin, Namjoon’s assistant, on a successful exhibition. He should talk to Jeongguk, the painter, about the rose installation piece that’s at the centre of the gallery. He should talk to Vante about the giant photograph of a bird’s eye view of Seoul. He should, but he’s looking for you. 

You were the only guest he wanted to invite, even when Hoseok raised an eyebrow at him and asked him if he really wanted to do this. (He did. He texted you over the course of two weeks and deleted each message before it was sent. In the end, he sent you his heart the old fashioned way, with stamps and an envelope, and sealed it with the hope that you’ll receive it in time.) He doesn’t think you’ll come, so he tampers down the anticipation, tries to not look for your laughter or hear the way your eyes form crescents when you smile too hard. Despite the invitation, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to see you again, so he tries to keep himself busy and talk to the visitors about the pictures. He tries to not think about you. 

But it’s hard when you’re all he has up for his exhibit, when your face is at every corner. When you’re all he’s been able to think about. 

And as it slowly starts to get closer to the close, he tries to not be disappointed. He puts on a smile and asks Jeongguk about the sun and moon holding hands, discusses lighting techniques with Vante, and manages to make Jimin beam with pride when he compliments him about how nice the exhibit set up is. 

When the clock strikes 5, Yoongi packs up his camera and tucks it into his bag with his disappointment and begins to head out. 

“Take care, Jimin.”

“Bye, Yoongi!” Jimin chirps. “By the way! There’s a lady in front of your exhibit. I think she was captivated by it; she’s been standing there for the past half hour if you want to talk to her!”

A very familiar silhouette greets him. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.” 

You don’t turn around to face him, just stand there looking up at the picture of you smiling at the camera with the covers pulled up to your chin. He hears the people in the background, the faint hum of murmurs and laughters, but you stand there, quiet and arms crossed. He takes a step towards you before shuffling back to his original spot, shifting his eyes to the portraits before him. 

At first glance, you are the same girl in the portraits, but the longer he looks at the portraits, at you from the peripherals in his vision, the less the two of you look alike. The girl in the photographs is soft and bright and sunny, draped in warm light and colour corrections, saturated in happiness. The girl in front of him is worn down and exhausted, cloaked in disguises and fronts that she doesn’t have the strength to put on properly. “I remember this day, but I don’t remember it like that.” You nod towards the picture in front of you. 

“What’s it like? In your memories?” he asks, and wants to take it back. There’s too many questions bubbling inside of him—Did you love me? Do you remember how I smiled when you did? What do your frames of memory look like? Do they look like mine, painted in a golden filter?—but he doesn’t know how to develop them into words. He’s not sure he wants to compare the photographs of your memories in the fear it’ll corrupt his. 

You’re radio silent, so he stands there, shuffling his feet back and forth as his heart drops with each second. He understands what you meant, back at the rooftop, when you had said about riding a rollercoaster: he sees the answer to your question before you’ve spoken, sees the damage he’s caused through the lens of hindsight. Yet some part of him still wants to hear the words from you. 

“I don’t remember a lot of it. I remember it was going well. And then I just remember the hurt. I remember realising you saw someone else when you looked at me, just like everyone else. How I wished I could take back everything from the beginning. I wished I could take back the first time I met you. What would it have been like if I had said no? Would it still hurt?”

“I’m sorry,” his hand reaches out for you automatically, too used to the warmth of your body and the lull of your heartbeat to alleviate the stiffness in his chest, but he pulls his hand back as he realises there is too much space between the two of you: he’s not sure if you want to shorten the distance, if you want him at all. 

“Why did you say yes?” he asks instead of what he really wants to ask. “To this. To being the subject. You could have said no.”

“I could have.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because you seemed genuine.You looked like you were genuinely looking for a reason—for something, for anything, for purpose—and I liked that. I haven’t met a lot of people like that. Genuine. Earnest.” Your body turns to him, but your gaze is still brushing against the floor and clinging to your hands. “I think a part of me wanted, desperately, to be the source of your purpose. So I let myself believe that you genuinely wanted me for me.” 

“I think I loved you.”

“I think the both of us were looking for someone to love,” the corners of your mouth wobble, a pale imitation of the blown up picture of your smile on the wall. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t work. Because we were blinded by our desperation.” 

He doesn’t have anything to say to that. The way you look—so curled up in yourself and so vulnerable—slowly makes him realise there’s so much to you he wasn’t able to see. Were there more moments you tried to open up to him, only to have him turn a blind eye because he was still thinking about Seokjin?

“I wish I had met you later. Maybe in a different universe, you and I have a different story line, one where when you and I meet, I have learned to accept love and you have learned to accept heartbreak. Maybe we would have been ready for each other then.” Your smile wobbles, just as it did last time, and Yoongi’s heart wobbles too. When you start to walk away, he tastes the bitterness of his memories surfacing. 

“Wait!” he reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezes it a little too tight. When you turn, eyes wide, it feels like a scene he’s seen somewhere before, a picture he used to know. “We could. We could start over. We could make that universe this one.” 

“I don’t-I’m not following.” 

He drops your hand and offers you his. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. My name is Yoongi.”

“Yoongi, I’m not-”

“What’s your name?” 

“Y/N,” you tentatively take his hand and shake it. 

“It’s nice to meet you for the first time. This is my exhibit,” you smile, head tilted in confusion, but the light in your eyes is warm, so he keeps going,” and I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee? 

You bite your lip, but don’t let his hand go. He tries to keep his smile on his face, but his heart is beating with the force of a supernova and he feels his nails cut through the skin of his anticipation. When you look down at his hand, he knows you can feel the tremors that run through it, the electricity of anxiety crackling through his veins, but he keeps his eyes on you and the way your eyes search his for clues, for cues and stage directions. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile, and it feels like the first time he’s seeing you. 

He’s not sure, this time, of the damage: he’s not sure he can anticipate the fall, the wreckage caused. Doesn’t know if he wants to. 

It’s a brand new film strip. A new camera. A new storyline. 

He’s never been more ready. 

[oitommothetease]

Long Story Short (3/3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Modern AU)

Description : 

Long story short, it was the wrong guy Now I'm all about you I'm all about you

Word Count : 2.2k words

Warning : fluff, ex Steve, Bucky Barnes my beloved, Just Bucky being an amazing partner

Bucky Barnes does not do relationships. Well, to put it in better words; Bucky Barnes did not do relationships until he met you. As a marriage counselor, he had advised many couples to just get a divorce, and even though he had saved a lot of marriages, the bad ones always hurt him more. To be the person to witness unhappy couples was not the best profession. But again, to be the person to save a marriage or bring back the lost love made his profession the best in his mind.

He did not have hope for a future relationship. He tried dating, it did not work out, and then he became the man who always left after the night and never stayed over. Not only that, but he thought his life would remain the same, and he would become a miserable 60 years old that hated lovesick teenagers and would die in his bed alone.

Bucky’s life changed when he met you on the flight. You, with your obvious shittier life, changed everything for him that weekend. And that was two years ago.

He fell in love and that changed it all, things just started falling into place perfectly like a domino effect going smoothly. He called you the moment you landed and asked you out. Likewise, he was scared that what happened back in his hometown was some sort of escape for you. Luckily, it wasn’t, you said yes and he was ecstatic. 

The date went splendidly, you talked about everything from your careers to your embarrassing high school moments that still sometimes haunt you at night. He told you about his family and he came clean about what went down with Dot (She wanted a relationship, he didn’t and then he bolted). It scared you, Bucky was so different, you’ve never been with someone who didn’t plan everything out, but it was exciting nonetheless. He assured you that he wanted a relationship with you because and let's be honest, he was already very smitten.

He thought that was the best weekend of his life. You proved him wrong, every day with you was the best day of his life.

“This is technically our third date,” you suggested.

He gasped, dramatically placing his hand on his chest. “This is our first date to me and you’re already trying to get in my pants. Give me some respect, lady.”

You laughed, shoving a hand on his arm playfully, and he held your wrist, bringing your body closer to his. He wrapped his other hand around your waist and leaned down to leave a longing kiss on your lips. “ As much as I would love to stay the night. I wanna do right by you, doll.”

You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, foreheads pressed together, before you jokingly said, “FYI, I have already been in your pants before.”

That was the moment Bucky knew you were the one for him. 

***

Alpine fell in love with Bucky quicker than you could. On the fourth date when Bucky finally let you take him home, Alpine came from her hideout in the kitchen and sat on his feet. Alpine never did that with anyone, your friends had told you that you had the most hostile cat ever. Whenever a new person entered your apartment, Alpine either ignored them or attacked them, but with Bucky, she was affectionate.

For you, it wasn’t one moment that made you realize you were in love. Unlike Bucky, you had a lot of issues to deal with before you could give yourself completely to him.

Bucky never judged you, he gave you the time you needed and never pushed you when he was ready to acknowledge he loved you. 

Of course, the insecurities were also present, you’d have urges to go throw his phone or stalk everyone he follows on Instagram. You told Bucky, hoping he doesn’t call you crazy, but instead he gave you his phone’s password. Yes, now your face could unlock his phone too. He told you he trusted you, and you were it for him so if that’s what you needed to be sure, he would happily oblige and wait for you.

It took you six months to finally acknowledge your love for him.

When you were working on a divorce case, the wife told you that when her husband walked into a room, she didn’t feel anything. You got lost in her story and told her how when your boyfriend, your Bucky was nearby you felt calm, lighter even. She smiled and told you she would like to have a love like that. And your mind just went, ‘Holy shit, I am in love with Bucky’. After wrapping up for the day, you immediately rushed towards Bucky’s office, you couldn’t wait to tell him about your recent discovery.

You sat across from him at his office, anxiously fiddling with your finger. “Bucky, I need to tell you something important.”

He looked up from the file on his table and closed it before giving you all of his attention. He always did that which made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Go ahead, doll. I’m all ears.”

 “I... I need to tell you something important.”

He nodded his head, encouraging you to go ahead.

You exhaled and said, “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Bucky studied your features, concern quickly replaced intrigue. This is it, he thought. You’ve realized that he was a rebound and now you were breaking up with him.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

 “I love you.”

You both said at the same time.

“What?” you queried, standing up from your seat and moving towards his chair.

You settled on his lap, cradling him, one of his hands rested on your thigh and the other on your lower back, holding you still on his legs. “What?” 

“I love you,” you confessed, taking his cheeks in your palms and you gently pressed a kiss on his lips.

“Say that again,” a grin spread across his face, the corner of his lips almost reached his ears.

“I love you,” you said, beaming with adoration in your eyes.

“God, doll. I love you so much.”

***

After dating for a year, you decided to move in together. Every day with you had been the happiest day of Bucky’s life. It had been exactly two years since you met Bucky and he was so head over heels for you that sometimes he couldn’t even voice it. Maybe that is why he had a velvet box in his pocket, so that he could express his love for you without gathering the courage to say it.

Both of you decided that for your second anniversary, you were going to have dinner in your shared apartment that you made home. You planned to order take out with movies followed by lovemaking, whereas Bucky planned to make you his fiancé by the end of the night - which was also followed by intense lovemaking.

While on his way home, he stopped to pick up your favorite flavor of the cake. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly picked it up without checking who it was.

“Hey, pal,” Steve’s voice greeted him, taking him by surprise. Bucky hadn’t talked to his best mate since - well, since he found out what he did to you. Bucky was furious that he hurt you like that and made you doubt yourself. The selfish part of Bucky was thankful, not for hurting you, but for leaving you because Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you. And hopefully, after the proposal, he wouldn’t have to.

“Steve,” Bucky said. A silence lingered where both of them could hear the other breathing, but none of them knew what to say, if anything was even left to say. Both of them broke the silence together at the same time.

“Peggy and I are getting a divorce.”

 “I’m going to propose to Y/N.”

 “You what?” Steve asked.

“No, you what?” Bucky countered.

Steve exhaled through the device connecting two old pals and spoke, “Yeah, we tried, but it just didn’t work out. I don’t even know why I went back after the first time. I lost so much by just doing that.”

Both of them were aware of what he was talking about; you. Steve lost you from falling into old patterns with his ex-wife. Steve regretted it. Peggy’s pregnancy wasn’t planned and when she told him, he tied down the knot for the sake of his future family. It took Steve two months to realize that he loved you and not his wife. He didn’t contact you, you asked him not to. The only reason he invited you to his wife’s baby shower was so that he could win you back. He hoped seeing him would make you want him again, but when you walked in with his best friend’s hand in yours, he didn’t know how to react. He had lost you to Bucky of all people and he hated his mate for this, for taking away the best thing in his life. 

“Are you sure about her?” Steve questioned, hoping to raise some doubts and second thoughts in his best pal’s mind. He knew that was wrong, but he desperately wanted you back. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Bucky answered dreamily and Steve could feel his heart crack.

Steve should have stopped, he shouldn’t have relented but Steve wasn’t a good man like you thought he was. Good men don’t cheat on women, good men aren’t selfish. “It's gonna change everything between us, pal. Is she worth it?”

 “Yes.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate in his answer and hung up the phone instantly. He realized quickly that anything that separated him from you or even tried to was not going to be in his life. Bucky was a possessive man and he would die rather than give up his two best girls, you and Alpine.

***

When Bucky came back, you didn’t expect him to kiss you so feverishly, as if he let you go, he’d lose you. He would never lose you, that you were sure of.

Your anniversary went down as you planned. Eating pizza and talking while the movie became a background noise was peaceful, domestic and everything else you desired. You could spend the rest of your life like this. Just you and him — and Alpine, obviously. 

Bucky was hiding something that much you could feel. You both always knew when something was up with the other. A tiny part of your brain panicked that maybe Bucky was cheating on you. He wasn’t; there were no signs, but your brain always mustered up the worst condition as a defense mechanism.

So, when Bucky got down on one knee with a ring in his hand as you were bringing the cake from the kitchen, tears welled up in your eyes. Bucky gently took the cake from you and placed it on your dining table before getting a hold of your hands in his.

“Doll,” he started, and tears were already starting to stream down your face. “ I love you so much that it physically hurts me sometimes. I never thought I would be fortunate enough to be happy, but God, you make me so happy and I can’t even…”

A lump formed in his throat and he tried again, “I had this whole speech planned and now I can’t even get a sentence out without crying. They make it look so easy in those rom coms.”

You chucked, stifling a sob that was threatening to break out. ” Nothing about us has been conventional. I mean, from the way we met to the way I’m proposing, but that is what I like about us. You are already my home, my family, my everything and I would like you to be my wife too. So, Y/N Y/L/N, would you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me? ” 

“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” you beamed, holding his palm tightly, supporting him to stand up. He situated the ring on your finger before claiming your lips in his. He kissed you with so much passion and adoration that you felt that even if the earth swallowed you whole at that moment, you still wouldn’t mind. You’ll be glad because you got the opportunity to know and love a man like Bucky. 

After the very anticipated and passionate lovemaking, you settled your head on Bucky’s chest, limbs tangled together, and his arms wrapped around you, igniting you with warmth and love, so much love.

“Alpine is gonna get mad that I took her man,” you remembered, repeating the words you said all those years ago in a hotel room. You did not know where it was going then but God, you wanted it to go somewhere. Somewhere like this, engaged to him.

Bucky chuckled, reminiscing that night and weekend before pulling you closer, placing a kiss on top of your head and promised, “Alpine is not the love of my life, my future wife, my everything, doll. You are.”

TAGS : @ladydmalfoy​ @niffala​  @vicmc624​ @leyannrae​ @priii​

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Fourteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: my quickest AND longest update to date?? who am i??

merry christmas for real this time. thank you sm for reading i never voice my appreciation for yall but it’s there i swear

tw: abuse mention

***

Cassian’s plan to grab his stuff and get the hell back home is intercepted by Feyre, who pulls him aside and proceeds to spill everything about her fight with Nesta to him.

His heart hurts for Feyre—he of all people knows what it’s like to feel unwanted by your biological family. But what did she really think would happen? Their entire friend group is about placing chosen bonds over blood bonds. Feyre can’t be that offended if Nesta prefers the company of her friends over her little sisters. And trying to talk to Nesta about her therapy? Jesus.

But Cassian has a feeling it’ll take both Feyre and Elain a long spelling out of things before they can begin to understand Nesta the way he does, and he doesn’t have time for that right now. He’s too distracted to even provide the comfort Feyre came to him for.

Somehow, he makes up an excuse and detaches himself from the conversation, leaving to find his coat and keys. Azriel spies him on the way to the door and gives him a look.

“Not a fucking word,” Cassian growls as he passes. Everyone else is engrossed in a game of poker and getting progressively more drunk. Feyre now sits on Rhys’s lap, once again content. Azriel only smirks but shakes his head, letting Cassian slip out of the penthouse unnoticed.

He takes the long way home, needing the night air and flashing headlights to clear his head. Once he gets off the freeway leading to town, though, he picks up his phone and calls Nesta.

She doesn’t pick up.

On the fourth call that goes unanswered, Cassian gives up. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk to him tonight. But still he finds himself driving past her neighborhood, once, twice, as if he’s listless without being able to talk to her. He has too many feelings he needs to get off his chest, and she’s the first person he always goes to for those things.

Try to consider her feelings.

It’s that thought that forces him to turn around and drive back to the cabin. They’ll both feel better in the morning, anyway. He can find her and talk as soon as the day starts.

It’s past midnight when he finally pulls up to the driveway, and still he’s disappointed to not see Nesta’s car there. Still he’s disappointed to enter an empty cabin.

The Christmas tree they decorated together sits unlit in the corner of the living room, their presents untouched under the fir leaves. Without turning the lights on, Cassian trudges upstairs and heads straight to bed.

Any sleep he finds is short and restless. His eyes shut sometime around three in the morning, and when they next open, early dawn light is streaming in through the windows. Snow flurries gently against the glass.

Giving up on the prospect of genuine rest, Cassian accepts that he’ll have to seek out Nesta with dark circles and a half-functioning brain today.

He already has a list in his mind as he heads downstairs: get coffee and breakfast for Nesta, get dressed, be at her door by the time she wakes at nine.

Then he reaches the foot of the stairs, and realizes none of that is necessary.

Straight out of his dreams, Nesta is sitting cross-legged on the ground before the coffee table, inspecting a puzzle piece in the cutest sweater he’s ever seen.

Cassian freezes with his hand on the banister, wondering if he’s still asleep. He watches her bite her lip intently, trying to fit the puzzle piece into a corner of the puzzle. It doesn’t fit.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, tossing the piece aside. Cassian clears his throat.

Nesta’s head shoots up, her focus broken. “You’re awake.”

“You’re in my house,” he says dumbly.

“That’s what the key you gave me is for, isn’t it?”

Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a wounded bear, Cassian walks farther into the living room. “Are you—I mean, are we…?”

“Use your words, baby.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t seem upset. There’s so much he wants to ask her: did she sleep well? Where did she get her Christmas sweater from, and does it mean she’s secretly been a fan of Christmas all along? Does she want hot chocolate or coffee with her breakfast?

“How was your night?” he settles on. He moves to sit across from her at the coffee table.

“Find where this goes,” Nesta demands, handing him a new puzzle piece and pointing to their nearly finished puzzle.

Cassian obeys, and Nesta talks while he works. “I was pretty pissed when I got home last night,” she says. “I wanted to tell you all about this stupid fight I had with my boyfriend, and how I knew he was right but I was still furious at him, until I remembered that you were my boyfriend, and I didn’t want to see you.”

Cassian pretends to focus on the puzzle, letting Nesta get her words out.

“So Gwyn called to say thank you for her present—you were right, by the way, she loves it—and then we ended up talking the whole night, and I told her everything about my sisters and,” she waves a hand, “the other shit.

“And at one point I realized that I was telling her the stuff I needed to be telling you. So I came here as soon as I hung up with Gwyn.”

Cassian looks up. “When was that?”

Nesta shrugs. “Five in the morning?”

“Nesta,” he scolds. “You’ll fuck up your sleep cycle.”

“Will you let me get to my point, damn it?”

Cassian shuts up and sits back.

Nesta is staring down at the puzzle, fiddling with her fingernails. Carefully selecting her next words like an attorney would. “I wanted to apologize for—the things I said last night. I was projecting my insecurities onto you, and I’m sure you already know it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks up, face serious. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other. We always have. But I let that affect how I treated you when you had nothing to do with it.”

“But you were right.” Cassian can’t stay quiet anymore. “I mean, a lot of what you said was wrong, but at the heart of your point you were right.” It took Cassian all night to sift through what Nesta had said, to separate the truth from the meaningless words of hurt. He finally sees it now.

“I should have watched out for you last night, even if I couldn’t claim you as my girlfriend. I know how you are in new environments with new people and I left you to the wolves.” The wolves are his most trusted friends, sure, but they aren’t Nesta’s. And he was an idiot to forget it.

Nesta fixes another puzzle piece into place, and for the first time this morning, true regret passes over her face. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I hated every second of it while I was doing it. So as long as you know I didn’t mean any of it, I’ll be fine.”

We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world.

You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now.

Cassian nods once. “I know,” he says softly. “You could never lie to me.” Even if some of her words had struck a little truer than they should have. Cassian realizes bitterly it’s because her insecurities are the same as his.

“So are you going to tell me about what the real problem was yesterday?” He dares to broach the elephant in the room.

Nesta stiffens, refocusing on the puzzle to avoid his gaze. “I already told you,” she says. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other.”

“There’s more to it than that, though.” When Nesta doesn’t respond, he adds, “Feyre told me her side of the story. It probably wasn’t all of it, but if it makes you feel better, I agreed with you.”

Nesta snorts derisively. “She was being unreasonable, but I made it worse. You know that, don’t you?” She raises a brow. “You know how I am.”

Cassian remembers their screaming match from the time he tried to get her a doctor’s appointment, and oddly enough, smiles. “I know you hate it,” he says, “and I know it’s frustrating as hell, but people stop taking your arguments seriously when you start flinging insults. It probably isn’t fair, but you’ve been in a courtroom. You know how it works.”

Nesta grimaces. “Believe me, the future lawyer in me is not proud of how I held up in last night’s fight.”

“Right there.” Cassian slides a section of green pieces over to himself and fits them into place, completing the rolling hills of the landscape scene. There’s only a handful of pieces left, all in the sky area. He waits for Nesta to be ready to speak.

After several moments of working in silence, she says, “My sisters have never really accepted me the way I am. I used to think Elain did back when we were kids, but then I stopped prioritizing her and she stopped understanding.”

Cassian knows Elain is pissed that her once-closest sister no longer cares to talk to her. But what he wants to know is why Nesta stopped answering her calls. Why she pulled away and went into isolation, and wouldn’t come out for anyone until a few short months ago.

Nesta clears her throat. “I was not a well-adjusted kid. I’m not a well-adjusted adult, either, but—I was even worse in my youth. I had a deadbeat dad, who I hated while my sisters adored him. I hated the life we had to live because of him, and I let that hate seep everywhere. Into everything and everyone else.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “There was no place closer to hell than that fucking one-bedroom apartment. I hated the person I was in that place—like I had no control over my emotions, my tantrums, my entire self. I was stuck in this childlike state of rage and I couldn’t move on, couldn’t grow up.

“No one could figure out what was wrong with me, so I had to take care of my issues myself. I read more books, I went out more often, I always had headphones in—I learned how to escape. I learned how to limit the destruction. Once I did that, I could care for Elain more openly. I could have civil conversations with Feyre, too. That’s where we went wrong, I think. I gave Feyre hope that I could be a better person, and once she latched onto it, she refused to let go.” Nesta picks at the sleeves of her knit sweater. “She never understood that I was cold and removed just because I was. She always had this belief that deep down, I secretly had a heart of gold and a shit ton of love to give. I never bothered telling her she was wrong, so her expectations of me grew. And so did Elain’s. And then I graduated high school.” She shrugs.

Cassian frowns. “That’s when you left your family and moved here?”

She nods. “The distance helped. For a short time, I thought I was free. No responsibilities or people to answer to. But then I met Tomas—my ex—and Feyre and Elain followed me to Colorado not long after my dad died. And even then I stayed optimistic, because most people would be lucky to have their sisters and boyfriend all in the same place. I thought I could finally have all the relationships a normal person my age was supposed to have if I just put in the effort.” She meets Cassian’s eyes. “I never told you much about Tomas, did I?”

His stomach sinks, but he shakes his head.

“It was not a fun first love. But the only reason I didn’t tell you about it earlier was because I didn’t know how to describe it myself.” She rubs her palms down her thighs, but it isn’t enough to hide their tremble.

“I know what to call it now,” Nesta says. “It was abusive.”

Cassian says nothing. He can’t. But his hands curl into hard fists under the coffee table.

“Lana made me work up to using that word.” She rolls her eyes, like the whole thing annoys and embarrasses her. “He was abusive: physically, verbally, emotionally. I’m not going to go into the details or anything, but it’s what was happening to me during those college years that my sisters needed me to be there for them.”

Cassian would never in a thousand years ask Nesta for information she isn’t ready to give, but in that moment he’s overwhelmed with the need to know everything—every little thing that’s ever been done to her, so he can draw up a list and exact calculated revenge for all of it. His voice is rough against the lump in his throat, out of fury or despair he doesn’t know. “Nesta…”

“I promise I’m almost done.” She holds up a hand.

Take your time. Tell me everything.

“This isn’t about him,” Nesta says. “This is about my sisters. Because even if I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that man waste almost four years of my life, I would have ended up in the same place with Feyre and Elain. They’d still be disappointed when they realized I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.” She wraps her arms around herself in a hug, and Cassian wishes he’d sat beside her so those could be his arms.

She shakes her head. “I did my best so I wouldn’t be cooped up with them, wouldn’t be lashing out at them… and it still wasn’t enough. They wanted me to be nice, friendly, talkative. So I tried doing that too, even though I hated it. But around the same time things with Tomas started to get unbearable, Feyre found Rhysand and you guys. So now I had to hang out with my sister while she had a group of strangers constantly surrounding her, and go back home to a man who hated me at the end of the day.” She looks up at Cassian then, and her blue-gray gaze hits him with the force of a truck. “As soon as Feyre moved away to Velaris, I saw my way out. I finally broke up with Tomas. I gave up on all my relationships and I let go, and I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks it’s pathetic, or the bare minimum. It’s all I had to give.”

Cassian swallows roughly, unable to find his words. “It’s not pathetic, Nesta,” he finally says. “There’s nothing pathetic about doing what doesn’t come easily to you.”

There’s a million other things he needs to say to her, to make sure that she knows she isn’t stupid, or embarrassing, or not enough. But it all floats right out of his head when she heaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if a great weight has been lifted off her chest. As if Cassian’s measly words were all she needed to hear to feel alright.

She snatches up the final remaining puzzle piece and clicks it into place. “And we’re done,” she declares.

Cassian looks down at the table between them, which is now fully lit by the beaming morning sun outside. His eyes land on an empty space near the corner of the landscape, and his face falls. “There’s a piece missing,” he says.

“No way, where?” Nesta leans closer.

Cassian is already on his hands and knees, checking under and around the table for the missing piece.

“This is all your fault,” Nesta is saying above him. “You bumped into the table that time we were making out and all those pieces went flying.”

“Well, how fucking far could it have gone? Help me find it.” He’s serious now, searching the floor with intent. They can’t leave the puzzle unfinished. It was the only thing he could find in his garage all those months ago that could distract Nesta from anticipating her MRI results. And after the diagnosis, it had been a way to lift her mood, to give the two of them an excuse to spend every evening together—

“Sweetheart, it’s just a puzzle.”

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Just a puzzle?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, it’s either that or an overextended metaphor for our relationship—are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks quickly. If there’s wetness there, he doesn’t know how Nesta glimpsed it.

He’s had a hard twelve hours. Nesta even more so. “I just feel really bad, about last night and everything else.” Because even if she acts like what she just spilled to him isn’t a big deal, he’ll never forget it.

He looks up to find Nesta laughing. Hand-over-her-mouth cackling. Before he can ask what’s wrong with her, she’s climbing up onto the coffee table, breaking up the puzzle and sending pieces scattering as she crawls across it. “Nesta—” he starts to protest.

She drops into his lap, winding her arms and legs around his powerful body. And she leans in and kisses him, long and deep and sweet. His hands settle into the curve of her hips, where they’ve always fit perfectly.

She breaks the kiss to fit her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says. She never says that. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Her lips quirk up teasingly, but real guilt from the night before lingers in her eyes. Cassian realizes in that moment that Nesta could never hurt anybody more than she hurts herself.

“Don’t waste your apologies on me.” He nudges her nose with his. “Save them for people who’ll actually need to hear them.”

A real smile starts to bloom on her face. “I’ll try.”

Pride and love take his breath away, but he manages to say, “Thank you. For sharing so much of yourself with me.”

She makes an embarrassed noise and waves him off, but emotion shines in her eyes. Just to spare her, Cassian changes the subject. “Now what in the world are you wearing?”

She glances down at herself, frowning. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” The sweater looks hand knit, bright red with a green Christmas tree in the center. Balls of colorful fuzz decorate the tree as ornaments. “I want you to wear it every day,” he says.

“Over my dead body. I’d rather you help me take it off.”

Nesta’s hips feel especially snug against his as heat rushes to his crotch. She smirks like she caught him on a hook and leans in to whisper, “You look tired. Did you stay up thinking about my dress last night?”

Cassian swallows roughly. It might have crossed his mind a few times—not just the dress, but the fact that she had picked it out for him. He didn’t know that Nesta cared about things like that.

She rubs a thumb under his weary and reddened eyes. “After your anger faded, did you think about all the make-up sex we were going to have? Because I did.”

“Nesta,” he groans, dropping his head to rest against her chest. Either she plays him too well or he’s too easy to play, because Cassian is half a second away from damning everything to hell and dragging her to the living room carpet.

Until Nesta’s stomach growls loudly.

That’s when he remembers: it’s Christmas morning, he’s with the love of his life, and they’re both starving and sleep-deprived.

He looks up to find her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Before she can protest, he warns, “Don’t even think about it.” He pats her thighs. “Let’s get some food in you.”

***

Cassian makes them chocolate chip pancakes, and Nesta, feeling clingier than usual today, hangs piggyback off his body the entire time he cooks. She hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, yet she feels like she was born anew this morning.

In the middle of breakfast, Cassian’s phone vibrates. He hardly even glances at it before turning it over.

“Who was it?” Nesta asks through a mouthful of pancakes. She hasn’t asked him about how his own night went, but she expects that his friends will want to call and talk to him at some point today.

“Feyre,” he says without looking at her. “She asked where I went last night.”

“Why’re you ignoring her?” She raises a brow.

Cassian looks a little surprised. “I thought we were mad at her.”

“No.” Nesta sets her fork down. “I’m mad at her. What’s your excuse?”

He shrugs. “Solidarity. I’m mad that you had your Christmas Eve ruined. I know what it took you just to show up there.”

“You’re the only one that knows.” Nesta supposes that not everything has been cleared up with Cassian after all. “Listen,” she tries to soften her blunt tone. “Whatever is between me and my sisters… you don’t need to concern yourself with it. You’ll never have to choose sides between us.”

He watches her closely, carefully. “Even if I want to defend my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flutters at that inconsequential word, but she doesn’t show it. “Even then. Feyre looks at you like an older brother. I’m sure Elain does too, a little bit. Don’t let me get in the way of that.” He probably feels guilty every time he texts Feyre, the loyal bastard.

Cassian looks at his plate, then nods resolutely. “I can do that.” He adds a moment later, “For what it’s worth, I do get where the girls are coming from. Even if they had a shit way of going about it.” His eyes darken as he remembers.

Nesta doesn’t know what he was told about the fight, but she chuckles at his moody face anyway. “I expected you to. You’ve always loved spending time with your family, and you’ve never known anything different. But the reality is this: the closeness you have between you and your brothers isn’t something that can be forced onto every group of siblings. And the more Feyre and Elain try to force it, the more I push against it.”

“It sounds stifling.” His face is open, understanding. “To feel like you’re always too much but never enough.”

Nesta pauses, stunned. Cassian is almost too empathetic sometimes, like he carries a thousand past lives within him. Maybe he spent his time learning Nesta by heart in those lives.

Or maybe she’s getting too damn sentimental. She chokes out a dismissive laugh, going back to her pancakes. “Just text Feyre back. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

***

Late morning brings heavy snowfall and a chill that infiltrates the walls of the cabin. The Christmas tree in the living room is lit—something Cassian didn’t notice earlier when he came downstairs to find Nesta in his house. Realizing that she’s the one who lit it up first thing in the morning does something to his chest, but he pushes the feeling down where it can’t scare Nesta away.

The weight of the past day must finally catch up to her, though, because by the time Cassian finishes lighting the fireplace, she’s knocked out asleep on the couch.

“No makeup sex then, Nes?” he says softly. Getting up from the hearth, he goes to pull the fur couch throw over her body. Cassian settles at the end of the couch near her feet, taking care so she doesn’t wake, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table. He’s been slacking with his work ever since he got with Nesta, and he might as well catch up on it now before Rhysand takes notice.

The first email that pops up in his inbox is a corporate reminder about the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser gala, hosted in some high-class hotel in Denver this year. Cassian reads the email once, twice, three times before reaching for his phone.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “Oh, so you don’t hate us,” he drawls.

“What?” Cassian is confused.

“Because with the way you’ve been acting at family events lately, one would have reason to think you don’t want to be around your family much.”

“Oh—no, this isn’t about that.” Cassian refuses to let Rhys linger on this topic. “I called about the New Year’s party.”

“What about it?” he says. “Other than that tacky hotel.”

Cassian decides to spit it out. “I’m not coming.”

Rhys is stunned silent over the line for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Cassian never misses company events, no matter how much he hates dressing up and driving out to the city to schmooze with donors.

But too many of his holidays have gone to Rhys instead of Nesta this year, and he finds himself unwilling to give more.

“I’ve been stressed as hell lately,” he lies, trying to stay quiet for Nesta. “I’m always the one driving hours to see everyone else, and I can’t go all the way out to Denver for another party. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Rhys responds. “You have nothing going on at work and nothing going on outside of it. What could you be stressed about?”

Cassian makes a mental note to find a hobby that doesn’t include his brothers, if only so he can use it as an excuse to spend time with his secret girlfriend in the future. For now, he has to settle with the truth. “I can’t tell you.”

It’s a petty card to play, but it’s a valid one. No matter how nosy his family might be, they know how to back off when a line is drawn, no explanation required.

Rhys’s voice softens. “Is it serious? Is it a health issue?”

Cassian nearly laughs, even though he feels bad for making Rhys worry. “No, nothing like that. But I still can’t come.”

“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rhys tries again. “New Year’s isn’t the same without all of my family in one place.”

Cassian snorts. “Come over to my place then.” He says it half-jokingly, but then Rhys doesn’t answer, as if he’s thinking.

“The gala guest list is too big to fit in the cabin…” he ponders. “But I guess I could have it narrowed down at the last minute. The Mayfairs certainly won’t be happy about it, though.”

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Nesta’s sleeping form. “Uh…” He scrambles for something to get him out of this.

“New Year’s at a luxury cabin, all of us reuniting at your home for the first time in months? I love it,” Rhys declares. “Better than fucking Denver, that’s for sure.”

Cassian coughs, then covers it up with a forced chuckle. “I’ll have the place ready by next week.”

The call is over before he knows it, and all he can do is stare at the phone in his hand wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t entirely lose, he thinks to himself. You’re spending New Year’s with Nesta.

Yeah—New Year’s with Nesta and his entire family. He drops his head back against the couch and groans quietly.

***

Nesta wakes up late in the afternoon to Cassian presenting her with a mug of eggnog and bad news about New Year’s Eve.

The idea of another party, especially one with her sisters present, so soon after the last one makes Nesta’s very bones ache. But she supposes she’ll just have to take the next week to recover and prepare, because she isn’t missing out on a holiday with Cassian for anything.

The way she’s started romanticizing simple things like the new year should probably alarm her, but it doesn’t.

They sit down to open presents with the TV playing lowly in the background. It’s nothing serious, and Nesta isn’t expecting to get anything much until she unwraps her present.

It’s a vinyl record packaged in an elaborate sleeve with the words Nesta’s Mix etched across it. She slowly pulls the record out of the sleeve, staring at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a vinyl.”

She spears him with a look. “I got that. What’s on it?”

Cassian turns sheepish, sprawled out across from her on the carpet. “I stalked your Spotify to figure out what you listen to. Then I made a playlist based off what I thought you’d like and got it turned into vinyl. It’s all new music…” He trails off at the look on her face. “But if you hate it, the B-side has your favorite songs on there. You can listen to it either way.”

“I don’t hate it.” Nesta blinks her burning eyes rapidly, staring down at the gift in her hands. She’s not used to receiving thoughtful gifts—or pricey ones. “Thank you,” she says plainly, trying to let her feelings speak for themselves in those two words. “I love it.” She knows she should be saying more, damn it, but what can she say?

Cassian reaches out to put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking circles across her leg. She looks up at him and realizes she doesn’t need words. Leaning forward, she lands a kiss on his cheek and can only hope that it’s sufficient. “Where am I going to play it?” she asks.

“I was close to getting you a record player when I remembered I already have one. I’ve never used it in my life.” He looks at her more gently now. “So it’s basically yours.”

Nesta’s chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s giving the record player to her, but because he’s suggesting they own it together.

“My present is going to look so stupid next to yours,” she says quietly.

Cassian grins. “Now I really need to see it.”

Nesta buries her head in her hands in humiliation while he tears open the wrapping paper of his gift, and only looks up when she hears him laugh aloud.

He’s holding a copy of one of Nesta’s favorite romances, and the first of many of her books that he’s ever stolen from her and read. He turns the vintage paperback around in his hands. “I remember this one. I totally had a sex dream about it.” He gazes in reminiscence at the busty blonde on the cover.

Nesta snorts, but scoots closer to him eagerly. “Look inside.”

He flips it open to find dark scribbles along the margins, in every single margin.

“I annotated it,” Nesta says hesitantly. “With my thoughts and analysis on each scene. It’s probably dumb to critically analyze a ninetie’s erotica novel, but I thought you’d find it funny.”

Cassian is flipping through the pages more slowly now, taking his time to read each one. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he says after a moment, his eyes still on the book. “I think it’s more than anything I could have asked for.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic for a romance book—”

“Not the book.” He looks up at her with something in his eyes. “It’s all your thoughts.” He looks back at the book in wonder. “Written out for me in detail to keep.”

He starts to smirk, searching for a specific page. “I already know how you feel about the boat scene, but now I need to read about it.”

Nesta makes a noise of protest, grabbing for the book. “Don’t spoil the good parts yet.” She can hardly believe it. He finds her joke present good. “You always spoil the good parts first and get sad about it later.”

He makes a face. “True.” He lowers the book, growing serious. “Nesta.” He clears his throat, and her heart starts pounding. She can hear the words before he says them—

“You’re a really good gift giver.”

Nesta’s breath shudders out of her, in relief or disappointment she doesn’t know. Cassian is still staring at her in amazement, and she can only respond by throwing herself at him, her arms holding him tight.

He doesn’t falter under her weight, but pulls her closer. “Thank you,” he says into her ear.

She pulls back far enough to see him. His beautiful face is outlined with too many emotions for her to read, yet somehow she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

Overwhelmed, she leans in to place a soft kiss above his upper lip, then on his mouth. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Nesta.”

***

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[ohheyitsokay]

ebb and flow

this takes place in my ‘poly frontier’ universe

pairing: Will “Ironhead” Miller, Santiago “Pope” Garcia, Francisco “Catfish” Morales, Ben “Benny” Miller and a female reader 

wordcount: 3.3k

warnings: all fics in this series are 18+, poly relationship domestic, romantic, and sexual intimacy. strong language, both implications of sex and brief explicit sexual content

note: this is set earlier in the relationship than “just a day” when there’s more they’re still figuring out

>>

Will, of all of them, had the hardest time with sharing you. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree – that it worked and was good, it’s just that he couldn’t stop… counting.

He wanted so badly to be steady for you. It made him fill with pride, almost shining with it when you called him your Ironhead. It was his pleasure, his joy, his job to be your rock, the best thing to come out of locking his heart away.

But he knew you liked it when he opened up, too, trusted you with the parts of himself that he was still figuring out. That was what he should do, whenever his vision blurred green, but it seemed petty and stupid.

At times, they each had to reign in their instincts to be possessive – you were theirs, after all. For Will it was small moments that piled up, stuck in his head like glue, coagulating until it was a jealous monster, growling and glaring and over-reading every moment.

You gave Ben and extra long hug. 3 seconds longer and a squeeze too. There was 11 minutes of his date with you that was wasted on the phone helping Santi with something. Twice in the last month he bumped into Frankie leaving your place when he arrived. That amounted to at least 6 minutes of conversation before he could go in and see you.

But the thing was, he couldn’t be mad, not at them for wanting you as badly as he did, or you, for doing your best to be enough for them all, and that left only one person. Himself.

You noticed, of course you did. He was your Ironhead - discerning and level and selfless and thoughtful. Of course you could tell when he yanked you a little closer, eyes flitting to the clock on his wrist or tapping his fingers, antsy, impatient. Counting. And you knew he would blame himself, for stupid reasons. Frankie noticed too, always the one who saw right through the other’s words, straight to their minds, their hearts. The two of you talked to Santi and Benny and as expected, neither of them even thought to complain. They knew him too, leaned on his strength in their own ways.

It made you feel giddy, the secret as you called his work and charmed them into letting him off early, as your other lovers made themselves scarce.

He came home confused – until he saw you sitting on the counter wearing his shirt. There was a second he froze, processing, and the next he was in-between your legs, mouth on yours and hands ghosting over your waist like he didn’t know if it was real. His kisses were firm, in stark contrast to the insecure tone of his voice as he asked, “How long?”

How long do I get you, until I have to give you up again?

You slid your hands from his hair down the sides of his face, thumbs in his beard, over his chest, before slipping them into his front pockets.

“As long as you want, Will.” His eyes had been watching your movements appreciatively, but they snapped up to meet yours.

“Really?”

He sounded happy, but a little disbelieving. As much as you enjoyed building the sexual tension between you, you moved to wrap your arms around him, trying ground him like he always did for you.

Your yes went into his beard. And he hugged you back, understanding, before gathering you up into his arms and off the counter. They were waiting for his okay, giving him giving him the gift of an uncountable evening.

And if he wasn’t going to be undistracted by counting down the minutes, he had plenty of better things to apply himself to. He whispered thank you to your into your skin 7 times, that night.

-

Towards the beginning, Santi struggled with the appearances of it. He hated having to explain himself, would honestly prefer it to never come up, but of course that was impossible. Hated not being able to take you out without knowing there could be judging, misunderstanding eyes on the back of your neck.

In his heart, it wasn’t as selfish as it sounded – it’s not that he wanted to be the guy who “won" or anything like that. He just wanted to show you off, take you places, do things with you. Splitting your time, or getting enough of them to organize something just made things messier, pulling his relationship with you out of his control.

So one evening, when the all of them were off for various reasons, you knew he’d be at a bar, pouring over case files he didn’t want to bring home.

It was easy, sliding up behind him, trailing your fingers over his broad shoulders before whispering in his ear.

“Hey, handsome,” and he turned. He knew it was you, of course he did, but when he looked at you, any words he had got caught in his throat before he swallowed them. You were wearing a little outfit he had never seen, a little bolder and a little sexier than you would normally choose. Bits of lace poked out in all the right places, and you tried not to beam with pride as his eyes darkened and raked over you.

“You look like you know how to show a girl a good time,” you added, introducing yourself to make sure he caught your drift. Gently, you fiddled with the hem of his shirt, the waistband of his pants, twirling your hair like you were really flirting with him. His beautiful jaw clenched a little, clearly thinking, and you knew you had him hooked. He couldn’t resist.

“Have we met?” it was sweet, watching him try to play it cool, like he wasn’t already rock hard for this, for you. You could feel it, as you pressed between his legs, and thanking your stars he’d picked a stool. His hands hovered a hair’s width away from your waist, waiting, and you only tortured him a moment longer – fingers just dipping in his jeans – before you confirmed.

“Not tonight.”

His grin was cocky, confidant and contagious, and you knew this was a good choice. Part of him surely wanted to drag you somewhere he could kiss you like he knew would make you wrap your legs around him, but the game , the opportunity was far too tempting. When his hands gently pushed you onto your own stool, and he bought you a drink with a Santiago Garcia, nice to meet you, you knew. It was indulgent, to spend the night flirting and falling in love like a “normal" couple and Santi couldn’t help but help himself.

There was a look in his eyes, even as he asked you questions he already knew the answers to, that was full of fire. It burned into you, possessive and powerful and a calculated level of restrained, and you felt light as ash, overwhelmed with the intensity of him.

For that, you were more than happy to play along.

-

Even before the very first kiss, Frankie liked to be the one who fixed your car. Or the one who helped clean up, or the one who opened the jars.

His ability to provide was the sword that parried his fear that he wasn’t enough for you, for any of you. And it seemed like an okay solution - every moment of self loathing for his mistakes countered with grateful smiles and relieved shoulders. He liked feeling like he was making the world better, making life easier for the his loves, liked the idea that he was in control of the value of his contributions.

And it would have been easy for you all to let him provide – he loved doing it, after all, but it was important that he knew that you didn’t love him because of his provision. He was your Catfish, worthy not because of the things he did, but because who he was.

You told him so, a day he insisted on grocery shopping and you insisted on joining him. When he heard you, a muscle in his cheek jumped and he almost dropped the melon he was holding. It didn’t sink it, you could tell because he brushed a kiss to your temple and thanked you without meeting your eyes.

It was hard to talk about because he was good at providing, and that in itself wasn’t a bad thing. Scanning the isles with purpose he knew what brands to get what everyone liked. Frankie had sharp eyes and ears and knew you all better than you knew yourselves.

As you followed him, and added your own observations, he took them gratefully and you knew it wasn’t going to be a single, grand moment that his mind understood, and that was okay.

You spend the evening kneading his back, his muscles jumping underneath your hands. When he murmured about needing to go read over something for Ben, you settled on his lumbar, wishing your knees were anchors and pressing kisses into his shoulders, promising it could wait. Telling him without words that he was allowed to enjoy the moment without earning it.

It made you smile, that you didn’t mention anything to the others, but they didn’t take advantage of him either.

If he came home with groceries, someone else would put them away, and the others would cook. When his eyebrows dipped and he offered to clean, you would gently, gently herd him out of the kitchen.

Any day of the week he looks through his bag and smile in spite of himself, overwhelmed with how you adore him for seemingly no reason. His gloves replaced, extra of his favorite snacks, or the occasional photo he had to hide from his coworkers. They’re consistent little reminders, telling him sternly that he is the reason and that is enough.

Together you fortify him from the inside out, a beautiful balance of accepting him for how he loves and matching it, reminding him the burden of provision is not on his shoulders alone. That what his does is a gift you all cherish, but who he is defined your love.

And when his hand is in your hair, and you’re kissing the inside of his thigh, knelt between his legs, you know he understands.

“You’re so handsome,” you murmur, sliding up to lick along over the bone of his hip. Santi is behind you, and you feel him murmur his agreement against your neck. Your Catfish tilts your head up to look at him, and his brown eyes are warm and pleased and just a touch greedy.

“Show me,” his voice rasps, as though the words are foreign on his tongue and the selfishness of it half catches him off guard – he leans into it. You don’t see, but you’re sure the others catch it too – the gradual disappearance of transactional love.

Frankie provides for you, and you, for him.

-

It was predictable, maybe, but an honest problem, that both Miller boys had a relationship with you.

Will had always been the star, hair like sunshine and eyes like the ocean, first child and first pick on every team he’d tried out for, and even a couple he hadn’t.

Ben, your Benny, outgrew him in height, but the swathe of the shadow still choked him at times. Especially when it came to you, his darling girl, his biggest fan, and the absolute love of his life. How could he keep up with Frankie, a man who provided for you as naturally as he breathed, or Santi a living, walking hero, right out of the movies? How could he keep up with his brother, the man he’d looked up to since he could see?

He picked hobbies and girls and careers his brother didn’t, almost couldn’t see how much he glowed on his own, and he ached for you, to tell him. Remind him that you chose Benny. Not as a backup Will, or an off-brand. Not out of pity or convenience or greed.

And you did, because he wasn’t – not to you.

You needed him, had a love for him the others couldn’t provide. It was part of your love to be intentional with each of them: reaching for him, rewarding him with gasps of his name alone, but that wasn’t always the total of what you wanted to communicate.

So it worked out perfectly one night, you even plan it.

Ben woke up to one of you hands over his mouth, the other on his thigh, rubbing circles high on the inside. It felt like a dream, hazy and delicious, but your voice in his ear dragged him awake. It’s just me, shh, get up! Your tone was… needy, so thick with your arousal he would’ve been halfway to hard without the teasing of your hand. Swinging his long limbs, he focused on your hands, now tugging him insistently all the way down the stairs to the couch, still too drowsy to quite comprehend what was happening.

He could do one thing without thinking, though, so his mouth pressed into yours and you nearly toppled before pulling him down with you, grinding into him as you explained.

“I – oh! – I was dreaming about you,” you pulled away from his kisses to draw your tongue down the column of his throat. “Needed you, Ben,” you added, as if that wasn’t abundantly obvious. It occurred to him that you were keeping your voice quiet, like you didn’t want the others to hear.

“Dreamed about us, baby?” he thought he misheard, his strong hands pulling your core into his, too impatient for your moans to wait until you were both undressed.

“Oh fuck,” you wriggled against him, fighting to say words. “No, Ben, just you,” you barely managed it, but then he paused, still as a knockout.

Now he was wide awake, your words sinking into his skin like a brand, hot and sharp.

“Just me?” his deep voice was clear, like misunderstanding would kill him, and you mimicked his stillness, pulling back to look him in his sweet blue eyes.

“Yeah Benny,” a chaste kiss, as earnest and honest and raw as he was. He knew your tells, as well as he knew his own – you wouldn’t lie to him. “Just you.” Your smile, even in the dark of the living room was adoring, and the one he shot back was bright enough to light up the room.

It crashed into him, his sharp mind processing it all at once. You dreamed of him. Woke up, pulled away from his brother, slipped past the handsome other men who called themselves your lovers and brought him, alone, to bring you your pleasure. It didn’t just make him proud – it made it feel real how much you loved him, needed your Benny. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then your world spun, and he was on top of you, palming your breast through the shirt you were wearing. He was reveling in it, basking in it the reminder like oxygen in his blood. Once he made sure you were comfortable – ever the sweetheart – he cradled your jaw, eyes clouded with intensity and a lust thick with love.

“Let’s reenact it then, shall we?”

-

It was insane, overwhelming, and positively daunting, the idea of pleasing, loving, existing with four men. The very concept of balancing your care for each of them in every aspect of your lives.

Of you had loved each of them any less you couldn’t have done it, wouldn’t have even tried.

What were you doing? How selfish could one person be?

Wouldn’t then be happier in the long run if you would just choose?

It haunted you, the months spent on sweet dates and awkward moments and nervous laughter at the beginning of your relationship. The five of you took it slow, their bodies acting like walls, guarding you as much as you could from the whispering voices.

Reassuring voices came in many forms, and for awhile, it was more than enough to keep your doubt at bay.

And when the relationship progressed to physical intimacy, at first you thought it was gone – you could do this. You could make it work.

The more comfortable you all got with each other, the arrangement, the more exhilarating you assumed the fucking – the lovemaking – would be.

But sometimes things didn’t happen like you assumed they would.

You were hovering above Frankie, your Frankie, his dark eyes blown wide with pleasure, his cock half inside you as you slid down his length. Hands anchored to his chest, you breathed slow breaths, wondering at the anxious feeling that was bubbling up inside of you. Behind you, you could feel the warmth of Will’s chest, his cock gently grinding on your backside, hands on your hips by Frankie’s, his thumbs rubbing lines into your skin.

It was strange, the brush of his beard by your ear, as he rumbled, “Do you have one more for us, baby?”

It should have been delicious, the feel of them, their words and touches and the gazes of your other lovers as they settled nearby, but all of a sudden, it was too much.

Shrugging, you shuddered.

You didn’t even have time to find the safety word in the fog of your mind, Frankie pulled you off of him, concern written on his face as you sunk to a rest on the thick of his thighs. The movement of Will’s his ceased as his hands increased their soothing circles.

“It’s – I’m fine,” you gasped, coming out of your daze, embarrassment and panic rising in your throat. Shaking your head, trying to clear it, you reached for Frankie’s length, wanting to apologize for keeping him waiting.

Buying yourself time.

“Hey, hey,” Santi, your Pope, caught your wrists, worry lines etched into his forehead. “Slow down,” he instructed, and you shuddered again. He could be commanding if he wanted to, but he rarely told you to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, hands still occupied by his, feeling helpless.

You wanted to cry.

“Sorry for what?” Benny’s voice wasn’t as gentle as the others, lacking the practiced murmur, but it was exactly what you needed. It was so practical, so genuinely confused, you huffed in laughter and it was the first real exhale in long moments. His blues found yours, the dip of his eyebrows confirming his sentiments – you did nothing wrong.

You felt Will’s sigh as he coaxed you down onto the mattress, but as he pulled you into his arms, you realized he wasn’t disappointed in you.

“Should’ve known,” his annoyance was at himself, for getting too caught up to notice your signs. “This is too much, isn’t it?”

“It shouldn’t be,” you grumbled, still feeling embarrassed, trying to sit in the narrow space between him and Frankie.

Benny laughed, and even Santi cracked a smile when he spoke.

“Taking four fucking dudes in one night?” He gestured around at their bodies, looking at you incredulously. They were all solid, handsome and formidable, nothing to be taken lightly on their own, much less together.

You flushed.

“I just need a bit of a break, and then we can try again,” you offered, and Frankie joined their smiles, his worry lowering with your stress, and bumping his forehead into yours. Sliding off the bed, Santi was shaking his head as he went off to the bathroom.

“We can if you want, love,” Will pushed Frankie away just enough to kiss your temple. “But trust me when I say we’re good.”

“But –”

“Babe, it’s been three fucking hours,” he said with a squeeze. That seemed a bit generous, but you smiled.

Your lovers were looking at you, and you knew them too well to deny to satisfaction on their faces. They were relaxed, already sliding closer to all fit on the bed, tossing hastily discarded clothes into the hamper, exchanging content smiles and confirming touches.

Santi returned with a handful of damp rags and a small pile of blankets, saying, “We have time.” He really did seem unbothered, having already pulled on a pair of sweatpants. The cloth was warm on your skin and you knew what he meant. Whatever it was, that the five of you had, was just budding, really. 

“Yeah, and it’s not like we’re not going anywhere,” Benny added, leaning against Frankie’s pillow, and the knot came fully undone in your chest.

You settled back in their arms, cherishing the moment as the stickiness was whipped away.

They were right.

Together, you could do this.

<<

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[xpeachesncream]

restart | eleven

↱ SEQUEL TO PERFECTLY WRONG  |  series masterlist ↰

summary: as you and taehyung start to build your life together post graduation, things become more complicated than what you expected it to be. while taehyung struggles with his inner demons, you’ve become the sole supporter, the pillar, juggling different jobs to keep you two afloat. your love for each other has been put to the test as your relationship continues to face hurdles - hurdles that have you questioning whether or not your relationship will make it through.

pairing: reader x fiancé!kth

genre: post grad au, established relationship au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.3k

warnings: cussing/mature language, angst, thoughts on overdrive, anxiety

notes: um, there’s about 3 chapters left ☹️ i won’t be taking drabble requests right away just to give myself a little break and work on bands for a bit, BUT-- i think i might be working on something else in the meantime? i’ll let you guys know lol ily a milli 💗

tags: @enchantaeduniverse​ @thedarkwinterrose​ @jeontier​ @jwlmnbt​ @bluesharksandfish​ @ra-mun-e @brightcolorsoffendme​ @jungcrookthecookbook​ @sunniejinnie​ @littlewolfieposts​ @vanntaesworld​ @thebeebi​ (please message me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Look, I—"

"No, Aiko. You know damn well I deserve to hear this from you too no matter what the outcome was. It takes two to tango." You step a little closer to her as you feel your bottom lip trembling. Just looking at her makes your stomach drop. You remember all the times that you felt insecure, and truly inferior especially after those nudes she used to send.

Fuck, Taehyung.

Maybe she was just always going to be a weakness for Tae, and that was it.

God, you want to hurl. But you keep yourself composed because it's here now. There's really no turning back.

"Hey." Jin gently squeezes your wrist and gives you a reassuring look. "It's okay." He mouths out.

"Do you have to be here while we do this?" Aiko shoots Jin a look.

"Of course I do. I'm not leaving her side. Why are you suddenly so shy when you've been sharing your nudes with everyone, let alone men in relationships?" Jin snaps back with that glare of his. But this didn't surprise you, Jin was always direct. He would never shy away from telling you like it is. All Aiko can do is roll her eyes at him before letting out a small sigh and bringing her attention back to you.

"Can we just cut to the chase here? I'm not exactly here to be friends." You say as calmly as possible. "Why did Taehyung come to see you?" Which, you curse yourself under your breath once you ask the question because why the fuck else would he come and see her? You were just too busy trying to sway away from the truth.

"He just asked to come see me. For specifics, I'm sure you and I both know what the intention was behind it." You feel sick, but you swallow the lump in your throat and slowly nod your head.

"So, um—"

"No, he didn't Y/N." She cuts you off and looks at you, her facial expression softening. "He didn't do it."

"W-what?"

"He came here and left. Said this was a mistake and that he would never do this to you." Jin's grip tightens around your wrist for whatever reason, you can't really decipher the signal right now. You honestly had a hard time believing her at the moment, and it has even gotten to the point where you think they've both created this story to tell you. However, when you look at her, her body language isn't defensive, nor does she seem like she's hiding anything. There's a small frown creeping up at the corners of her lips as she watches you.

She watches how you fiddle with your fingers, and how you always seem to swallow the lump in your throat every 5 seconds, slyly looking up to prevent the tears from coming down.

"O-oh."

"Look, I'm really sorry for having caused any trouble and I know I'm probably still not going to be on your favorites list for the way I acted with Jin—" She quickly looks at him. "And with Taehyung. But, if there's really one thing that I help with right now, I can tell you that he truly does love you." She tightens the way her arms are crossed close to her chest as she lets out another shaky sigh. "I know it's terrible that the thought was there for the both of us, but he would never do anything to hurt you. He can't. You mean too much to him, Y/N."

"I— don't really know what to say."

"He's set on you. There's no changing that for him." She says, and you can catch the hurt in her voice. The way her tone dips a little when she tells you there's no changing that for him. She still had feelings for him, and this shouldn't be anything new to you.

"Thanks." Aiko does nothing besides purse her lips into a tight line.

"Yup." You look at Jin, and he simply nods at Aiko before he's slightly pushing you to walk away from the door and down the stairs. But, before you could fully get yourself down a step, Aiko calls out for you both. "Hey."

"Hm?"

"He's lucky to have someone like you. I hope he learns from whatever he's going through." You take one last look at her before you silently head down the steps with Jin and situate yourself in his passenger seat.

"So, what now?" Jin asks as he drives off.

"I honestly don't know." The scene of him begging you not to go replays in your head and your heart shatters all over again. You don't know if you're upset with yourself or if you're still upset with him. Actually - yes, you still were upset with him because he had the fucking nerve. The fucking thought. You couldn't get over that. But part of you felt relieved knowing he didn't move forward with it? Or, that he was fucking smart enough at the very least to fix himself the very last minute.

"You can't avoid him forever."

"No, I know that. I just don't know what to say to him." You turn to Jin. "Is it really bad for me to want him to make this work? I don't wanna be the one that goes to him first, not after all of this. I'm tired. I just want to believe that he still wants me the same way he did before."

"I'm sure he hasn't changed."

"Jin, the thought still crossed his mind."

"I know and it's not okay whatsoever but I do have to give it to him for realizing it before."

"I don't know. I guess, yeah." You look down at your lap. "What if he just doesn't fix this? I'm scared of being upped and left again." The sudden thought of your ex popping up, along with all the nights you cried yourself to sleep - waking up with a pounding headache and dry eyes.

"He's not going to." Jin says reassuringly. "I really do believe he'll get this right, but just like you needed time, he does too. I know you had a hard time and a lot of things hurt you, but Taehyung had his own demons to battle and that's never easy. He's trying."

"Yeah." Is all you respond with.

"Do you need more clothes?"

"No, I don't think so. If anything I'll just ask one of the boys to grab me something."

"Okay." Jin continues to drive off and back to his apartment. You keep your gaze outside of the window until your phone vibrates in your lap.

[taehyung♡] 6:05pm: can we talk tonight? i know you might not be ready, but i honestly don't want to put this off any longer. i need to see you.

Your breathing hitches and Jin can feel that something has suddenly changed in your mood. You stare at your phone, unsure if you want to cry or if you're relieved to see Taehyung pop up on your screen. You wanna cry cause of course it still hurts to know the thought crossed his head; you'll never forget that for a second, Taehyung thought about risking everything you've built together just to feel wanted, needed, whatever the hell it was. For a second, he pushed you aside because he was ready to let Aiko back in.

But then you also are relieved because fuck, even if it hasn't been long, part of you felt like he was truly going to give up. That he wasn't going to try anymore. That he didn't think this was worth fixing. That you and him just weren't meant to be together. After all this, of course you still loved him. You loved him deeply - so, so deep, that thought of you without him is probably what hurts the most. He meant everything to you.

"What is it?"

"He wants to talk tonight."

"I'm telling you, you can't avoid him forever."

"Should I do it?"

"Are you ready to? Just because I say you can't avoid him forever doesn't mean you have to talk to him right at this moment, especially if you aren't ready." You look at Jin.

"This is so fucked up, because after everything, I still miss him. And I want to see him. I just don't know what I'd say though."

"Why don't you be honest about everything, yeah? How it made you feel, you confronting Aiko. Let him know that if this does work out, he'll really need to learn from it and understand how hurt you were."

"I know."

"So are you going to see him?"

"Yeah, I think so." Your hands became clammy as you picked up your phone and responded.

[y/n] 6:11pm: yeah, sure.

[taehyung♡] 6:13pm: is it okay if i pick you up from jin hyung's?

[y/n] 6:15pm: yeah, that's fine.

[taehyung♡] 6:16pm: be there in about 15 minutes.

As soon as you put your phone down, Jin is turning into his parking garage and parking into his assigned spot. You quietly walk up the steps, feeling the anxiety settle in. How was this night going to go? Were you going to have to move your stuff out permanently? Move in with Jin or Jungkook until you could figure things out? You already felt terrible enough having spent these past nights in Jin's bed while he slept out on the couch. He insisted he was fine with it, but still.

What if Taehyung really just wanted to talk to tell you that this was done?

Fuck.

Your anxiety is bubbling in your stomach as the minutes go by, 15 minutes seemingly coming a lot slower than it usually does on any other given day. But, it eventually comes and it comes by Taehyung texting you that he's downstairs. You zip up your jacket, fixing up your appearance just a teeny bit because this was still Taehyung. Jin is eating dinner as he waves you off, setting your bowl aside on the kitchen counter for you to eat later when you get back [if you're hungry].

You feel your pulse on your neck, and your ears are slightly ringing because of how nervous you are. You catch a glimpse of him through the lobby doors and you instantly feel weak, and you fucking hated that effect he had on you. He looks at you as you near the passenger door, slipping yourself in without making much eye contact.

"Hey." He says softly as he drives off.

"Hey."

"You eat already?"

"Nope, haven't been too hungry." His heart sinks at the statement.

"Let me know if you want me to stop by anywhere afterwards to get you some food."

"I'll be fine, thanks." You say, keeping your eyes on the passing view outside of the passenger window. The ride is awfully quiet, nothing but the thoughts in your head making noise. You realize he's taking you down towards the nearby beach, parking his car in front of the ocean view. When he shifts the gear to park and shuts off his lights, he slightly sinks in his seat and lets out a sigh.

"Y/N." He says, breaking the silence. You slightly turn your head towards him, eyeing him every now and then through your peripherals. "I'm sorry." He says, close to a whisper as his head drops and he begins to cry.

"Do you even know what you're sorry for, Taehyung?" You ask, your voice cracking when you look at him to see how torn up he is.

"Baby, of course I do." He looks at you through his teary eyes. "I'm so sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for ever making you question your worth, I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble and pain while all you've done was be there for me. I'm just.. sorry for not being there when I should have been. I should have never let you go through this alone."

"You have no idea how it's been all this time. I was your fiancé, Taehyung. I was trying to be there for you through everything you were feeling, experiencing, whatever it was. I tried. And all you did was push me aside and you still ended up pointing your fingers at me. Almost cheating on me, even? The thing that feels so unforgivable and so painful is the fact that for a second, you really believed risking everything we've built together was worth it."

"I know and I fucked up. That was on me, 100%. I let everything get to the best of me and I was too dumb to see it right away. I fully acknowledge it and I never want to make you feel that way again. I miss you so much. You being away has been so difficult because I feel empty without you. It's been hard to be without you because I never pictured myself to be without you. I still can't."

"We were planning to get married, Tae." You begin to softly cry. "This isn't something you do when you get married to someone and build that life together with them. You can't—" You wipe your tears with a quick pause. "You can't just run off expecting things to be okay after they get brushed under the rug. How are we supposed to have a family together, grow old together, if we can't even fix these kinds of issues together?"

"Baby, I'm ready to do this with you. It's been a hell of a ride and I'm learning as I go. I know I haven't been perfect, or the best fiancé, but know I'm learning from this because I want to be the best for you and give you the world like you rightfully deserve. I'm so, so sorry, my love." He responds, wiping his tears in between before reaching for your hand and grabbing it. He brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against it, causing your heart to flutter. "I love you so much, I'm not giving up on us. I want to do better and you help me be a better man every day that we're together."

"I just want you to understand how much of a toll this took on me and our relationship. You really hurt me, and all I hope is that you do learn from this and become better from it. I love you so much, but I can't always save you. I can be there for you, but sometimes you have to help yourself and I don't know what I'll do if I have to go through this again."

"I know. And I said I wanted to do better, I'm gonna do this for us. I don't want to do this with anyone else. I'm ready to do this ride with you." You don't really have anything else to say, because you feel like you've made your point time and time again. Now, you just didn't know if you'd take this leap of faith again and trust him, or if you should let it be. You simply lean over to wipe his tears, but he keeps your palm against his cheek, pressing a kiss against it as he leans into your touch. "I'm in love with you, Y/N. More than you'll ever know." You sit back into your seat and give him a tiny smile before letting out a breath. You were nervous for what you were about to say, but you needed to say it. You just needed to be honest. This is what this time was about.

"I went to see Aiko earlier." His eyes shoot right at yours, but he doesn't say anything. "She told me you didn't do anything and that you left." You slightly nodded. "It's gonna be hard for me to let that go. But I hope you understand that I want to be the person you go to if things get rough, no one else. I want you to confide in me and tell me what you need so I can better provide. I don't want my man to be running off to someone else because they feel like they can't get a certain feeling or emotion reciprocated, especially without discussing the issue."

"I know, love. I know. I understand and hear you. I'm going to show you that you're the only one that matters to me, and I'll never make you doubt yourself ever again." You sigh and nod. He leans over to kiss you on the forehead, but retreats back to his seat without kissing you anywhere else because he still felt the need to give you space. The kiss sent shivers down your spine though, and it only really solidified the fact that he was the only one you still wanted. "I—um, talked with my parents."

"You did?" You ask softly. For some reason, this was something you weren't expecting to hear. You truly and honestly didn't think Tae was ever gonna try to mend his relationship with his parents, but this showed you that he wanted to try - with you and with them. Hopefully, at least.

"Yeah. I stayed there for a bit." He slightly smiles. "I'm gonna start working with my dad next week. We've been trying to do a lot to mend our relationship and spend more time together."

"I'm happy to hear that, Tae. I really am."

"Thank you for always pushing me to do better with them. There's a lot on their side that I had yet to better understand and vice versa."

"Of course." You say softly as you look at him. He was still the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on, even under the moonlight.

"Do you wanna head back to Jin hyung's now?"

"Sure. I think I've said what I needed to say."

"Come home, please." He says softly as he begins to drive off. "I want to work on mending us, and our relationship."

"I—I don't know. I want this, I do. But I think I just need time to process this? I don't really know. I have to be honest, I'm scared."

"That's okay, I understand. You have every right to feel that way, but I'll show you that you don't have to be. You know you're always welcome to come back whenever you're ready though, baby." But fuck, everything about this makes you so weak. You really did want to go back home and work on this. You just wanted to be with him. You were just scared. There's really no other way to put it. Scared of getting hurt, scared of falling into another trap.

The rest of the ride is quiet again, but it's obvious that the both of you feel a little better getting things off of your chest and talking things out. It didn't mean that everything was fixed though, but you could at least say you both were on the same page of working this out and fixing your relationship. And even though you weren't going home with him that minute, Taehyung can't help but feel hopeful that this will work out in the end. He wanted to do right by you, and he was going to. He was going to fix this, marry you, have a family with you, grow old with you - he was gonna do whatever it took to get you both back on track.

When you unbuckle your seatbelt, you turn to face Taehyung. He simply gives you a tiny, toothless smile before cupping your cheeks and kissing your forehead, then nose.

"I love you, babygirl." He kisses your nose once more, thumb lightly caressing your cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too." You respond before quickly hopping out to prevent yourself from crying even more. You don't turn back and simply head into the elevators up to Jin's floor, straggling tears able to leave your eyes and lightly stain your cheeks.

"How was it?"

"Good, I think."

"What's the plan moving forward?" Jin asks as he leans onto the kitchen counter, watching you wipe your tears and nose.

"I think I'm gonna go home."

even when i'm on my own, i'm never alone and the silence sounds so loud, i'm feeling bound by the words i can't get out

track six: me and my mind - jazz morley

[inkbyajm]

Bottled Up

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: angst, fluff

warnings: yelling, crying, insecurities

word count: 2.2k

notes: apologies for the tardy post, i wrote and rewrote and re-rewrote the whole angsty scene because i didn’t know if it was written well enough, i wanted to make sure you guys could feel the emotions that i vividly visualised and tried my best to put into words  :( i did send it to a friend to check and she seemed to like it, so let me know how it goes for you, my loves. the angst for this one was inspired by 2 different songs - hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi and i will run from you by cemeteries. it’s not necessarily about the lyrics, but more about the melody and the mood you get into listening to them (they go in order). give those a listen :) also, beware of the upcoming philosophy references, i did study philosophy last year, hopefully no one gets triggered lmao

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Is a person’s scent something a normal human being picks up on before taking into account the rest of their features? Would a normal human being remember said scent and be able to recognise it in a crowd full of strangers? Corpse wasn’t too sure about the answer, but one thing he did know, is that she smelled delicately sweet, like cherry blossoms, and that ever since he had noticed it during their game night a few weeks ago, he simply couldn’t let it go. It was intoxicating, but in a calming way. 

━

Corpse and (Y/N) each lay on their beds in their own homes, going into the third hour of their call. He couldn’t exactly fall asleep, so he had decided to see what his dear friend was up to, and even though she was this close to succumbing to sleep, she said nothing and stayed up to keep his busy mind company.

“Okay, hot topic: what do you think about soulmates? More specifically the romantic type?” the girl asked, not knowing how much of a risqué question it was. How was he supposed to answer?

“I don’t really have an opinion on it. Why?”

“I read Symposium by Plato the other day and it presented an interesting concept about human beings. Basically-” Of course she fucking read philosophical books. How were they even having a conversation with each other? Why were they even friends? She was on a whole other level of smart. “-so this guy says that humans were like androgynous blobs, so they’d come in two sets of everything a normal person has. But those humans were so powerful, the gods were literally shaking in their robes, so Zeus decided to cut everyone into two to weaken them. But then humans became so miserable, they spent their entire lives searching for their other halves. In the end, Zeus kinda felt bad and said fuck it, I’ll give y’all dicks and vaginas for every time you wanna hug each other. And that’s the oldest explanation there is about the idea of soulmates.” she sighed, finished with her rant.

“That was...not at all the story I expected to hear.” she heard him mumble on the other side of the call. “Yeah, Greek philosophers were up to some reeal freaky things, you would have loved them,” he laughed at her joke, “I honestly think it’s cute. Not the whole cutting people into two thing, but like, longing for someone and then finding them because you finally feel complete. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a prince in shining whatever to sweep me off my feet. But it does sound nice, that ideal comfort, a person you’re just...meant to be with, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence that neither of them really minded, before it was Corpse’s turn to ask the second bold question of the night. “Have you found that person yet? Your soulmate?”

She’s never thought about it before, but she hasn’t really thought about soulmates that much either, it was a spontaneous thought she had said out loud. “I’m not sure, actually. (B/F/N) could be one, I guess.” (Y/N) shrugged in return. Wasn’t she going to ask him about it? She probably didn’t care that much. Understandable.

“My favourite quote about love is «You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.». It’s by Sam Keen, the American philosopher. It maay be the hopeless romantic in me shining through, but I do very much agree with his statement.” Did this mean anyone could have a chance with her despite their fuckups? So if he were to try, would she-?

“Obviously, there are some things that just can’t be ignored or avoided, but at that point it’s preferences and personal tolerance. Depends on the person, ya know?” she swiftly added, unaware of the effect it had on him. Sick. Some people were just meant to rot alone.

The final question was posed by (Y/N). She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at all curious. This little crush of hers had been steadily growing with every hang out, every laugh, every hug and every glance. There are rarely ever moments where one could casually discuss a topic this personal with friends, at least there weren’t with friends one had feelings for. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Corpse?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been in love?” her voice was soft, her approach gentle.

“Well, I’ve been in relationships before, so I guess, yeah? It’s been so long, I don’t even know what love feels like anymore.” he let out a breath resembling a chuckle. Lamest fucking answer ever. But it was true. He hadn’t thought about love in that way in quite a while.

“A lot of people describe it as having an intense range of overwhelming feelings. Lightheadedness, slight shakiness, heart palpitations, some people have even reported losing their appetite. Crazy how human bodies work, huh? Oh! Speaking of chemicals-”

She had continued on to ramble about...chemistry? Eyes? Corpse couldn’t really hear what she was saying anymore, let alone concentrate on her words, as he pieced everything that’s been happening for the past few months together. The nauseating feeling. The pounding of his heart so fast it felt like he was about to die. The urge to make as little eye contact with her as possible, because otherwise he’d turn into a furnace. The obsession with her perfume, like he was some fucking creep. The fool was falling in love. And it was at that moment that everything had come crumbling down.

━

(Y/N) and Corpse hadn’t talked for a couple of weeks. Or rather (Y/N) messaged the 23 year old many times, but he’d either claim to be busy or just not answer at all. There were two possible reasons for the sudden lack of contact: he was indeed busy with his musical projects and couldn’t allow himself to be distracted; or something much more serious was going on. It didn’t matter, for she was already in her car, on her way to his apartment.

Arriving at her destination, she used the spare key he gave her months ago, a sign of absolute trust, and allowed herself into his humble abode. Silence reigned in her friend’s residence. She thought maybe he had gone somewhere, and though that was unlikely, it wasn’t unprecedented. The door to his recording room was closed, and while she was tempted to check if he was in there, she refrained from doing so, knowing that specific room was not to be entered unless he was around to give permission.

“Corpse?” she called out just to make sure. There was no response for a few minutes, which made her assume she had the place for herself, until she heard a door open behind her. Turning around, she saw his figure emerge from said recording room in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, his curly hair disheveled.

“Hey, how are you d-”

“Why are you here?” he spoke flatly, interrupting her. “Well- You weren’t, um, answering your messages or any of my calls, so I thought something had happened.” she replied, suddenly nervous, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “Nothing happened. I told you I was busy.”

The air around them seemed colder as tensions rose. (Y/N) could tell he was irritated, but she couldn’t exactly figure out why. She had never seen this side of him before. “Okay. Tell you what, I assume you haven’t had dinner yet, so why don’t I go ahead and start cooking something up while you-”

“Get out.”

She blinked a few times, not quite registering the words that had just left his mouth. “Sorry?” Her voice was quiet. She was taken off guard.

“Are you deaf? I said get. the fuck. OUT.”

Corpse shouted the last word, making her flinch in what appeared to be fear. Good. Run away while you still can. Heart pounding, (Y/N) took a second to remind herself whom she was speaking to. “I see that you’re angry, but at least give me a reason why-”

“You want a reason? I just don’t fucking WANT you here!” Anger grew inside of him like a tumor, but it wasn’t intended for her. She had simply been caught in a storm that had been building up for years. “Do you understand that?! I can’t fucking be around you without feeling like I’m going to EXPLODE.”

His words hit her like paintballs. They were only words, plain and simple, but they dug deeper and deeper into her skin with each hit, until, eventually, it broke. Eyes burning, she felt the tears slowly welling up in them.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” her own voice grew louder with frustration, but mostly, confusion.

“Maybe because I can? Because I’m a goddamn asshole?” 

“Don’t say that.”

“How?! How can I not say it when it’s the truth!” He wanted to stop. His mind told him to cease whatever it was that he was doing. However, blinded with resentment towards himself, he only spilled words he would regret after it was too late. 

“I can’t function like a normal fucking human being. I can’t be a good friend, son, or whatever the fuck else, and I sure as hell can’t love you.”

The paintballs had turned into a singular sword. A very long, very sharp sword that had found itself plunged deep inside her chest. How did he found out? When? Had she been too obvious? Had she been pushy? Clingy? Way out of line? The woman before him was unable to conceal her shock, as tears came rushing down her hot cheeks. Her voice brittle, she tried defending herself. She couldn’t leave it at that. She had to try. Try to have him see reason. “You don’t love me, that’s fine. But you didn’t have to deliver it this way-”

“But I did.” breathless with fury, Corpse clenched his fists so tight they had turned cold, yet they were still trembling. “You can get so naïve and dumb, you won’t understand things unless they’re spelled out nice and fucking bold for you.”

He closed with (Y/N) until their noses nearly touched. He noticed the way she silently shook, her eyes which shed endless tears never leaving his gaze. Unable to make a single sound, she felt the man’s hot breath on her face, his aura domineering.

“Now get. out.”

Her body wouldn’t cooperate as she just stood there. Staring back at him, her inner brows raised. Corpse wanted to hug her. Envelop her trembling figure with his and tell her he was sorry, that he meant none of it, that he had lost his mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. And with his own tears threatening to spill, he created a distance between them. He needed her gone.

“Leave! GO!”

His yelling was enough to jolt (Y/N) out of her trance, and, in a hurry, she sprinted towards the entrance. The door closed behind her, she felt a sudden urge to fill her lungs with much needed air. She jumped at the resounding scream that emanated from deep within his soul, letting out all of his pent-up rage.

Feet carrying her all the way to her car parked outside of the building, the young woman managed to climb in, and this was the queue for her body to break down. The night was young. The street empty. No one around to hear her long-lasting wailing. She clutched the steering wheel for support, fingers wrapping around the leather in a tight grip. A headache was creeping up from the back of her skull. Her ears pulsated in response to the heavy pounding of her heart. Clumsily, (Y/N) inserted the key into the ignition, felt around for the gear stick, and drove away. She didn’t know where she was going or how long it was going to take to get there. She needed to get out.

What went wrong? When did it go wrong? She couldn’t help but feel guilty, feel at fault. She had never seen that side of him before. He had never treated her that way before.

It was the hugs, wasn’t it? He had to have noticed the way she held on for a second too long to enjoy the smell of his cologne. Her vision blurred as she resumed softly weeping, her salty tears staining her top. Or it might have been the touchiness, she would practically glue herself to him during their movie nights. Unaware of both her actions and surroundings, (Y/N)’s breathing quickened, becoming ragged. Maybe he didn’t like the way she called him three times a week. Her hands were slowly losing control over the wheel, over the vehicle she was driving. She invaded his privacy. That was definitely it. Fuck. How could she have been so damn blind, selfish, ignorant, FUCKING STUPID.

Lights. Something was moving towards her- MOVE.

With a sharp turn, she dodged the approaching car just by a hair’s breadth, but as she had avoided one accident, another came just as quickly. 

[freddie-weaselbee]

Reflection//F.W.

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Implied eating disorder, implied body dysmorphia, body insecurities, insecurities in general, mentions of food/drink, language, angst, fluff, sad and insecure Freddie :(

Summary: Fred can’t even look at his reflection without feeling bad about himself and thinking about how you deserve so much more than anything he has to offer. 

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. No matter who you are or what you look like, you are absolutely beautiful. If you or if you know anyone who suffers from body dysmorphia (specifically men because it’s not talked about enough), please reach out to someone and learn more. My messages are always open!

Arthur Weasley. Molly Weasley. Bill Weasley. Charlie Weasley. Percy Weasley. Fred and George Weasley. Ron Weasley. Ginny Weasley. The Weasley family. While all connected by their Gryffindor house and flaming red hair, each member of the family was unique in their own sense. 

Arthur and Molly were the parents. Arthur’s fascination with Muggles as a Pureblood and Molly’s blunt but loving motherly nature were what set them apart. 

Bill was the oldest, the golden child. He was loved at Hogwarts and became a successful curse breaker. No one ever had problems with the wonder that was Bill Weasley. 

Charlie forged his own path. The great Hogwarts Quidditch star who likely could have gone professional, had he not found his passion in dragons and made a new life for himself in Romania.  

Percy. Perfect prefect Percy, the one who would grow up to be the Minister of Magic, at least that's what everyone thought. He had every aspect of his life perfectly planned out down to the last detail, and oh how Molly loved her rule-abiding son, never a troublemaker. 

Ron had a more difficult time making a name for himself. The youngest brother in the family and yet not quite the baby. However, his friendship with Harry Potter and their knack for getting themselves into trouble every year made Ronald Weasley a known name around Hogwarts. 

Ginny was the only girl, which made her unique already.  Not only that, but she was fantastic at Quidditch, had the heart of a true Gryffindor Lion, and was overall a kind, vivacious, adventurous soul. 

Each Weasley had one thing that set them apart. Everyone, that is, except the duo that could never be separated. 

Fred and George Weasley. Not Fred Weasley and George Weasley. Fred and George. As if they were one person, joined at the hip with the same ideas, the same personalities, and the same feelings. No matter how hard they tried when they were younger, everyone always came back to calling them Fred and George. Even their own mother often got them mixed up, and showed no care in doing so. As long as it was one of the twins she was alright

. 

Once their years at Hogwarts started, the two boys decided to stop fighting the inevitable, and thus began their reign as “Fred and George Weasley, Prank Master Extraordinaires.” They were always together. They were both Quidditch beaters. They pulled some of the finest pranks Hogwarts had ever seen together. They sat next to each other in all of their classes and would sometimes switch seats or call each other the wrong name to see if anyone else would notice. They never did. 

“Freddie, you coming?” you asked your boyfriend, jumping up onto his back. It was Hogsmeade weekend, which meant the tradition of you and your friends raiding Honeydukes, Zonkos, and finishing out at The Three Broomsticks was minutes away from happening once again. Fred laughed and spun around, quickly getting dizzy and pulling you both down into the Gryffindor couch. 

You rolled on top of him and pulled his chin in for a quick kiss, limbs awkwardly tangled in each other as you shared a sweet moment with the ginger you’d been dating for the last 3 months. 

“Ugh my eyes!” George stood behind the couch, hands covering his face in order to shield his view from the innocent scene in front of him. 

“Oh shut up George,” you said. “You’re just jealous.”

Fred smirked at his slightly younger brother and pulled you down into a deeper kiss. “Yeah, jealous,” he mumbled against your lips, which resulted in George physically separating your faces with his hands. 

“You two disgust me,” he scoffed. “Are you guys ready?”

Fred struggled against his brother’s hand for a second trying to recapture your lips once again, but he eventually gave up once you caved and pulled away. 

“I’m all set, has everyone else already left?” The rest of your small friend group consisted of Lee Jordan, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet, who you had been close with since your first year. The three boys would run off and pull horrendous pranks while you, Angelina, and Alicia would roll your eyes, secretly coming up with new ideas for jokes to pull on Filch. 

George jumped over the couch and hoisted you up by your arms, his strength making you fly through the air for a few seconds before you landed shakily on the warm rugs decorating the floor. 

“Yep,” replied your friend. “They said they’d meet us in the Courtyard and we can go from there. If I remember correctly it’s your turn to buy butterbeers.” 

You groaned and threw your hands to your pocket, making sure you had the money. “I thought you would’ve forgotten about that.”

George wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave you a brotherly squeeze. “Never, love. Let’s get going.”

Giggling, you walked in step with your best friend and wrapped an arm around his waist. You turned your head and put out your other arm, gesturing for Fred to come join you. 

“C’mon, Fred, what’re you waiting for?”

Fred wasn’t waiting for anything. In fact, the longer he saw you interact with George, the less he wanted to spend the day watching it continue to happen. He didn’t look at you and instead just fiddled with his sweater, the one you had stolen from him so many times until he finally took it back to appreciate how it now smelled like you. 

“I’m not feeling too well today, you guys can just go.”

You pouted and fully turned to face your boyfriend. “You were fine just a second ago, do you want me to stay with you?”

He could tell you were about to walk back over and crawl into his lap, but he really needed to be alone. “I’m ok love, just not feeling it today. Bring me back something from Honeydukes though, will ya?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded, wondering if there was anything else you could do to help. 

“Don’t worry Y/N,” said George, “I can take care of you. We’ll have a blast!”

“I can take care of myself, Georgie,” you said. Fred winced at the nickname. “But I thank you kindly for the offer.” You bowed sarcastically and began to howl with laughter as George tickled your sides and threw you over his shoulder. “See you later Fred, don’t have too much fun without me!”

He looked up at the last second, only catching a glimpse of your face contorted with giggles as his twin carried you through the halls of the castle. 

Fred sighed and got up from the couch, sulking as he made his way to his now empty dorm room. He lied down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, imagination and worries running wild. What were you and George doing right now? Was he still holding onto you, laughing as he clutched your perfect body in his arms? Fred’s jaw clenched, thinking about his brother holding you, kissing you like he did. Because what was the difference between him and his brother? Why would you care if it was George that was touching you instead of Fred. They were the same. To everyone in the world, they were just the mirror images of each other. Just a stupid, unoriginal reflection. 

He felt a few hot tears well up, so he turned onto his side and curled up, letting sleep take over and wash his troubles away. 

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

“Alright George, put me down, you’ve had your fun.” The Weasley boy pretended to drop you, only making you clutch his shoulder harder. 

“Oh I see,” George said smirking, “now you don’t want me to put you down, huh?”

“Sod off, loser.” You wiggled out of his loosening grasp and elbowed his side. George had decided to carry you not only out of Hogwarts, but also almost the entire way to Hogsmeade itself. An act quite impressive, but the beater was known for his renowned upper body strength. 

Angelina came up and grabbed your arm, slowing you down so you would fall away from the rest of the group. “Not trying to steal my love, are you Y/N?” she asked, trying to glare at you but breaking quickly and smiling in the end. 

“I don’t know Angie,” you teased, “if you don’t make a move soon maybe I’ll have to take both twins. Paris does sound very nice this time of year.”

She rolled her eyes and gave you a soft shove. “The annoying part is that you could probably pull both of them too. I see the way George looks at you.”

Your best friend, usually so confident and collected, was now very shy and insecure about her love for the younger of the Weasley twins. You and George had no feelings for each other. Both of you knew that and she of course knew that. But sometimes dumb thoughts plagued people’s minds. 

“Angie, wanna know a secret?” you asked. 

She looked up and nodded slowly. 

“The reason George and I’ve been hanging out recently is because he keeps asking me about you. ‘What’s Angie’s favorite food?’ ‘What does she like to do when she’s not kicking ass on the Quidditch pitch?’ blah blah blah.” 

Angelina laughed at your horrible impersonation of George’s voice. “You know he’s like a brother to me. I mean, if things between me and Fred keep going how they are then maybe one day he’ll be my actual brother.”

She nodded gratefully and sighed a breath of relief. “I know, I know. It’s just a little weird for me that you two are so close. I feel like I’m third wheeling whenever you guys are there, and you aren’t even the ones dating!”

“That’s just how George is. He’s so sweet, so he’s always there to cheer me up. But you have to trust me, there is not and will not ever be something between me and him. No offence to George, but that’s gross.”

“You’re dating his twin brother! How is that gross?”

“You of all people know that they’re not the same. I prefer my men cocky, arrogant, and pretty,” you quipped, calling Fred out. 

“And I prefer mine sweet, compassionate, and handsome, but it looks like George has got a long way to go before he can earn that title.”

Angelina was referring to the scene in front of you, where the man in question was currently shoving Lee’s face into the snow-covered ground. 

“Maybe we both need better taste in men,” you said, running with Angelina to tackle George and save your dear friend. 

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

It was 2 weeks later, and Fred was once again missing out on a trip to Hogsmeade. Gryffindor had just played Slytherin in the game of the year, a close match that had the entire school screaming and on the edge of their seats. 

“And there Malfoy and Potter go, racing into the sky with their eyes on the snitch,” Lee Jordan shouted into the microphone. “The current score is Gryffindor with 130 points and Slytherin with 110. It all comes down to who can catch this flying bugger.”

A loud crack resounded across the pitch as George sent a bludger straight toward Malfoy, hitting his broom and almost knocking him off. 

“Amazing hit by Number 6, beater George Weasley. This could be the end of the game folks, this could be it. Oh! Malfoy’s back on his broom and racing to catch up to Potter. Weasley gave the young Gryffindor seeker a great head start, and it looks like he might have it!”

“Fred!” Angelina cried. Fred looked to where she was gesturing and saw the bludger coming straight toward him. This was his shot. He had a clear path to hit Malfoy, securing the win for Gryffindor. 

You were in the crowd, screaming at the top of your lungs. He didn’t want to disappoint you, or the team, or his house. He didn’t want to disappoint people anymore. 

“Number 5 Fred Weasley winds up to hit a bludger, he’s got a clean shot toward Malfoy! If he can get this hit it’s game over and victory for Gryffindor!”

With all of his strength he sent the bludger flying, but apparently his aim hadn’t improved with the extra practice he had been doing. 

Lee continued to comment on the disaster that was about to happen. “One strong hit to the bludger, but it looks like it’s going in the wrong direction. Oh no! Instead of hitting Malfoy the bludger just hit Potter, sending him and his broom spiraling out of control! Malfoy has taken this opportunity to catch up to the snitch and...and...he’s got it. Malfoy catches the snitch, making the final score 260 for Slytherin to 130 for Gryffindor. A well played match by everyone.”

Except it wasn’t a well played match for Fred. He had let everyone down, again. He was used to it from his parents and older siblings, even most of his teachers. But he had never let down his house before. He had never let down his team. 

Fred locked himself away in his room, refusing to talk to anyone. He pulled off his Quidditch robes and shirt and stared at his reflection in the wall length mirror hanging in his dorm room. 

He stared at his body, something many girls would comment on and swoon over. He was Fred Weasley, star Quidditch player and resident hottie at Hogwarts. Except he wasn’t anymore. 

The definition of his abs weren’t strong enough. He was gaining too much fat, eating too much food. He wasn’t working out enough, that was it. If he would've worked out more then he would’ve made the shot during the game. 

Fred wasn’t as ripped as George, he knew that for a fact. Living in the same room for their entire lives, Fred knew how strong his brother was, how defined his biceps were and how he could lift you with absolutely no problem. Fred knew that George was the better beater. It was just statistics. He made the most hits, had the best aim, and won the team the most points.  

The only thing Fred was better at was making jokes, but he knew no one liked them. His friends must’ve laughed out of pity. There was no way anyone could not find him annoying, especially with how cocky and overconfident he came across. They just tolerated him because of George. You just loved him because you saw him as another George. You should be with George. 

Fred stared into the reflection of himself in the mirror, the one that looked equal parts like him and his twin brother. He groaned as he bent down to the floor, quickly starting another repetition of countless pushups until he would pass out from exhaustion.

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

Fred had stuck to his cycle. Wake up, eat (but not much), go on a run across the castle grounds, go to class, work out for 2 hours, eat dinner (but once again, not much), work out again and then pass out from working so hard. Any time he had outside of class was spent on the Quidditch pitch or locked away in his dorm, overworking his body and secretly comparing it to his brother’s. No matter what he did, he never caught up. He was still the more annoying, weaker, less attractive reflection of his twin. 

“There’s something wrong with him,” George said to you, walking to the courtyard for one of your breaks. “He’s been so off lately and I can’t figure out why.”

“You’re telling me!” You had noticed Fred’s changes in behavior and tried to talk to him about it. He had become quieter and less outgoing, usually choosing to be alone and do God knows what while you went off with your friends. In fact, the two of you hadn’t had an evening to yourselves in over a month. Not ever seeing your boyfriend was beginning to take a toll on you too. 

“I’ve tried talking to him and asking if anything’s wrong, but he always blows me off,” you complained. “He just seems so sad and miserable, and the worst part is, I have no idea why!”

George just shook his head. “Me neither. He’s my bloody twin brother and we never even talk anymore. He’s always on his broom or locked himself in our room. Doesn’t ever let me in, so I don’t know what’s going on back there.”

Thoughts began to race through your head. “Do you,” you gulped. “Do you think he’s hiding something from us? Or...or someone?”

“Oh Godric no,” George said suddenly, wrapping you up in a hug. “Fred would never cheat on you darling, he loves you too much for that. He would go on and on about how bloody beautiful you are and how you’re the perfect person for him and it took everything I had not to strangle the git sometimes cuz he would never let me sleep.”

You squeezed him back tighter. “When...when did he say these things?”

George paused for a few seconds. “A little over a month ago. I...I haven’t really heard him talk much recently…”

You broke down sobbing in your friend’s arms, lowering yourself onto a bench and turning to cry into his chest. 

“Shh, shh darling, it’s not your fault. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. Freddie loves you so much, he would never hurt you, ever.” He grabbed your chin so you were looking up at him. “Do you understand me?”

You nodded, eyes red and puffy before going back to his chest to cry. You spoke to him through broken sobs. “I...I’m gonna talk to him tonight. I need to f-find out what’s...wrong.”

George stroked your hair soothingly and rubbed your back. “Sounds like a plan, love. You’ve got this.”

You thanked him and continued to cry until you felt all of your sadness release. George helped you up and walked you to the bathroom to get your face cleaned up for the next class. Little did you or George know that Fred, from afar, had just witnessed the entire scene. 

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

In his usual place as of late, Fred was curled up on his bed, unable to move from the intensity he had just put his body through. He tried to shift to get into a more comfortable position but it only made him groan and his stomach growl. 

His arms, which were supposed to be getting stronger, were weak from malnutrition. He wasn’t even strong enough to sit up and do his Potions homework, which only made him feel worse about himself. 

All his life it had been Fred and George. It didn’t matter that his name was first, because there was always George to follow. They were the same person, and yet he still felt inferior to his brother. No matter what he did, how hard he worked, George was always going to be better. He was the stronger twin, the kinder one, the more compassionate one who knows when a prank has gone too far. He was everything that you deserve, and everything Fred wished he could be. 

Fred was startled by a knock on the door. “Freddie,” your muffled voice called through. He stayed quiet, hoping you would leave and look for him somewhere else, or better yet give up on him altogether. He couldn’t stand to look at you at the moment. 

“Freddie I’m coming in.” Before he could do anything you had cast alohomora and were standing next to his bed. 

Fred turned his head away from you, trying not to let you see how red his face was from crying. He pulled the covers up over his face, blatantly ignoring you. 

“We need to talk.” You sat down next to him and ripped the blanket off, revealing a mostly naked Fred aside from his pair of boxers. You grabbed his shoulders to roll him over to face you, but you jumped back as he let out a pained groan. 

“Get out, Y/N. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You haven’t wanted to talk for the past month and I’m tired of it. I know there’s something wrong, and it’s killing me to see you like this. Please, Fred, you need to tell me what’s happening.”

The boy rolled his eyes and slowly moved to face you. “Why?” he asked. “So you can run off to George and have him comfort you? Why don’t you just save us both the trouble and go be with him.”

You were shocked by his words. Fred had never been the jealous type. Whenever you would talk casually with your exes or other boys would flirt with you, Fred was understanding and calm, always saying that you were his and he knew he didn’t have to worry about anything. But now for some reason he was seething with jealousy, and over his brother no less. It didn’t make any sense. 

“What in the world are you talking about?” you asked indignantly. “You know that George is just my friend, my best friend. He’s in love with Angelina and I’m in love with you.”

Fred scoffed. “Yeah, alright then. What did you and Angelina do, draw straws and decide who gets who? It’s not like it would matter, as long as you got one of the twins.”

You sat down on the bed, fuming with anger. “Where is this coming from? You know I love you. I don’t love George, at least not more than a friend or a brother. I don’t love anyone else and I don’t want to be with anyone else, just you.”

Your hand traveled to his shoulder but he jerked up so that he was inches away from you. “Don’t lie to me. You’re just like everyone else. You got one of the twins, and then you realized that you got the worse one, so off you are to go seduce George, because he’s just my reflection but better. I know exactly how you think you worthless bitch!”

Both of you went silent. Fred had never spoken those things to you before. Never once had he raised his voice in anger, and he had never even thought about calling you a bitch or anything of the sort. 

You brought your hand back to slap him, but you hesitated when he just gave up and sighed, awaiting the hit and not even trying to do anything about it. He was weak and exhausted and had completely given up on everything. 

Lowering your hand, you moved it to caress his cheek. He leaned into the touch, letting small tears fall from his eyes and drop onto your fingers. You pulled him into your shoulder slowly, where he sniffled and cuddled up next to you. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean that. You’re perfect.”

After a few seconds you finally spoke up. “I love you so much. You cheer me up when I’ve had a bad day with your jokes.” Fred hummed into your shoulder. “You’re always helping me relax when things get too stressful, and you take me on the best adventures I could ever imagine.” He turned his head to meet your eyes. “You and George, while you might look the same, are completely different. I could never love him the way I love you, because he’s not you. He’s sweet, compassionate Georgie, and you’re fierce, loyal, loving, optimistic, beautiful Freddie.”

Fred nuzzled into your shoulder and pulled you down so you were both laying down on his bed. He mumbled something that you couldn’t make out. 

“What was that love?”

“Do you really think I’m beautiful?” He spoke so shyly, pieces of his insecurities finally becoming apparent. 

You held his face in your hands and stared into his mesmerizing brown eyes. “I think you’re beautiful, gorgeous, handsome, pretty, and absolutely perfect the way you are.” You ran your hands down his toned abs, starting to understand what he had been doing those many hours each day. “No matter how much muscle you have or how big or small you are, I’ll always love you. You look perfect to me.”

To show Fred exactly how you felt you kissed him all over his body, starting at his neck and moving to his chest all the way down to his thighs and calves. “Just because you’re a guy doesn’t mean you have to be super buff and toned. All bodies are beautiful, and that goes for men too. And you are the most beautiful of them all.”

Fred squeezed you tight, mentally hitting himself for not talking to you earlier. You loved him and he knew that. You didn’t love George and you didn’t love him because he was one of the Weasley twins. You loved him because he was simply Fred. Fred Weasley. 

You shifted out of his hold and started to leave the room. “Where are you going love, please stay,” he asked, giving you his biggest puppy dog eyes. 

“I’m gonna sneak into the kitchens and get you some food. You need to eat, Freddie. I’ve seen you skip meals and it’s not healthy.” He nodded reluctantly, still self conscious about the weight he thought he gained. 

“Speaking of not being healthy, I think you should slow down with the workouts. There’s nothing wrong with getting a better body, but you’re destroying yourself in the process. Can you take a break for a few days and rest up before reevaluating your workouts?”

It took Fred a second to think over. He still wanted a body like his brother’s, but you were right. He wouldn’t get it from not eating and constantly hurting himself. “Yeah, alright.”

“I think there’s leftover ham and potatoes from dinner, does that sound good?” Fred agreed, cozying himself back up under the covers. 

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get food and we can eat and catch up, and maybe read that book I was telling you about? You said you wanted to read it with me.”

“Sounds perfect, love. Thank you so much.”

You nodded and walked out the door, closing it softly. Fred looked around the room he had spent so much time in recently until his eyes landed on the mirror hanging on his wall. With what was left of his strength he got up and stood in front of it. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. He had so many deep seated insecurities that he would need to work out, and it would take time. But for the first time in a while, Fred could finally look at his reflection and smile. 

[buttterknifeee]

An Introduction Pt.3- Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Pt.1 Pt.2

Requests for this series is now open!!! You can request for ships, episode inserts, and headcanons for this series!!! More info can be found here

Summary: You guys are like the "Friends" of the crime-fighting world. Robin's totally Ross and if this was one of those episodes, it would be called "The one where aliens get their asses kicked"

Ships: none, see info above

A/N: Once again this is a reader insert for the Teen Titans 2003 show season 5 episode 10 (the one where they all meet!) I also added an epilogue for funzies.

You found yourself in a dark bubble of Raven’s magic, floating up to the alien ship. You had offered to water jet all six of you up, but you weren’t even sure if you could create that big of a geyser. Besides, a quiet bubble is much better than a large geyser. Beast Boy, however, disagreed.

“That dark energy stuff gives me the--” He was cut off by a glare from Raven. ”Uh...I mean, it's cool!” He gives a guilty grin.

Robin tells us to go to the firing control room, and you all crept through the hallway in a single file line: Robin, the pink-haired girl, Beast Boy, You, Cyborg, and Raven, who you noticed was still near the entrance. Cyborg gave you a look as if to say Keep going; I’ll handle this. You nodded and continued walking forward.

You were walking near Beast Boy, when you noticed a cut on his arm, with that part of his suit torn open. You pointed at it.

“Hey, you alright?” you asked, referring to the gnash.

“Oh this?” He replies. “This is nothing. When you’ve been a part of the DOOM patrol, a little cut is nothing.” He smiles confidently, patting his wound. You realize that he was totally bluffing when a comical tear springs from his eye and his arm tenses.

“Here I can help.” you say softly. Concentrating on the air between your hands, you condense the liquid in the air, forming a small bubble of water. You move that bubble of water onto his arm and it begins to glow. You let go of the water, revealing Beast Boy’s arm to be completely healed.

“Dudeee,” he stares in awe of your handiwork. “That's so cool-” He’s interrupted by your stumbling; healing really does take a lot out of you. He lets you lean on him, and the two of you continued walking forwards. After a few seconds, he stops.

“Uh, guys?” he says. And that's when you noticed it too. The six of you were surrounded by alien soldiers, and they seemed really out for your blood. “I think they know we’re here.” The six of you charged at the fleet of soldiers. But Robin seemed to have an idea.

“Raven!” he yelled. “Take out part of the floor!” Raven looked at him with confusion, but then nodded and did as she was told. With a large SMASH, she removed the part of the bottom of the ship, revealing the water below. The water below you realized, suddenly understanding Robin’s plan.

“Aquagirl! Now!” he yelled, holding off a soldier with his staff.

“On it!” you yell, punching another alien out of the way. (Apparently with water powers came enhanced strength, which you found out at that moment.)

Concentrating on the water below, you raised your arms, allowing the ocean to shoot up from below. Instead of blasting the water through the entire ship, you carefully controlled it to grab onto the aliens that were attacking your friends, pulling them through the hole and causing them to fall into the ocean below.

You looked at the door to the control room, which was locked shut.

“I got this.” Robin said, placing something shaped like a birdirang onto the door.

As the bidirang counted down, you heard Trogaar talking from behind the door. “The Earth scum shall learn it takes more than six juvenile heroes to defy the mighty Lord Trogaar!” he said, most likely with a smile on his face. You all looked at each other, prepared to prove him wrong.

The door exploded, and Robin was the first to get through. “We’re not six heroes,” he declared. “We’re one team.” Him considering the six of you a team sparked something inside of you. You all split up to take down Trogaar and his guard, with Robin at the lead. You took on a guard, kicking him in the stomach and sending him flying towards a wall.

You noticed that Robin was on the shoulders of Trogaar, and you sent a jet of water to his face to knock him off balance. That didn’t work and he threw Robin across the deck. Luckily, he landed on his feet. The two of you joined to fight Trogaar, taking turns to land punches and kicks. However he overpowered you and Robin, throwing you both across the room. You landed on your back, but Robin hit the wall with the back of his head and fell to the floor.

“Robin! Aquagirl!” The alien girl yelled. You got up as quickly as possible and helped Robin up from sitting position as she and Cyborg tried to take on Trogaar, only to be thrown in your direction as well.

Still leaning on you, Robin looked at Cyborg’s arm. “Can you rewire that into some sort of weapon?” he asked.

“I can try,” he said, getting up. The four of you were in a fighting stance, despite being injured and surrounded by Trogaar and his goons. Suddenly, you hear a voice, as clear as day.

“Get away from my friends!” It was Raven, supporting an injured beast boy. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!” she chanted. Part of the ship exploded, sending it crashing into the ocean.

You found yourself standing in the ship, the roof torn off and making a slow descent into the ocean. All of the alien soldiers were groaning on the ground, but Robin, Cyborg, and the alien girl were all unharmed. The four of you watched in horror as Trogaar aimed to attack Raven when BLAM! You turned to see Cyborg standing next to you with a smoking sonic blaster in place of his arm. He grins.

“Alright I’m only gonna say this once. Boo-Yah!”

“Yo, is it just me or are some of these guys starting to move again?” Beat Boy points out, still slumped in Raven’s arms. He was right; a few of the aliens began to twitch, making attempts to get up. You turn to the other 5 people.

“You guys don’t worry. They’re in the ocean now, meaning that they’re in my territory.” You cracked your knuckles, your eyes glowing blue.

.

.

It’s the next morning and you find yourself sitting with Robin, Raven, Cyborg, and Beast Boy, looking at a view of the bay and an island

“Thanks so much for the new suit Cyborg!” you say, fiddling with your brand new outfit. You were wearing a cropped short-sleeve rash guard and swim shorts, both with deep cyan and black patterns. He also gave you black gauntlets with curved spikes ‘To protect yourself from bad guys and still be aerodynamic!’ according to him. Robin gave you one of his old yellow belts, since he figured you’ll probably need something to carry stuff in. Finally, you found some black scuba shoes from the swimwear store that allowed you to walk and swim with ease.

“Its no problem AG! I figured you needed a new outfit if you’re gonna be a superhero now” Cyborg chuckled, calling you a new nickname that he probably made up just then. Superhero, you thought. I like the sound of that.

Raven had a far away look in her eyes.“That's quite a view.” she said, still staring that the scenery

“Somebody oughta build a house out there,” Cyborg agreed, his voice now softer.

“Yeah, if you like sunshine and the beach.” Beast Boy added, making an obvious dig at Raven.

“You know, you're kind of funny.” Raven said to your surprise, smiling softly at Beast Boy. This was obviously too much for the guy’s ego.

“You think I'm funny?” Beast Boy sat up straight, looking at Raven. “Dude! I know some jokes!”

You laughed at Raven’s face of pure regret, before a familiar voice brought your attention to behind you. It was the alien girl, now in a purple outfit similar to the one before, but this time it seemed to really suit her.

“I look .. nice?” she asked, obviously insecure. You took her hand again.

“You look amazing,” you reassured her, causing her cheeks to flush.

Robin stepped forwards. “I still don’t know your name,” he said.

“In your language, it would be ‘Star Fire.’” she says with a smile.

“Welcome to Earth, Starfire.” Robin said.

She looked at you all shyly, certainly different from when you first met. “ I thank you all for your bravery and help, and I wish to ask permission...to remain here. Where the people are most strange ...but also most kind.”

“You don’t need our permission,” Raven said calmly.

“But if you want our friendship, you've got it.” Robin added.

“I could use a new friend,” you say with a wink.

“Guess we could all use some new friends.” Cyborg agrees.

“Besides, we kind of made a good team.” Beast Boy says proudly.

“I thought we might want to keep in touch, so Cyborg and I designed these.” Robin fished out four black and yellow communicators. You, Raven, Beast Boy, and Starfire each took one and observed them. They were similar to flip phones, but they were circular and had no logo on the front.

“Made ‘em outta my own circuits, '' Cyborg said proudly.

“When there’s trouble, you know who to call,” Robin said. You all smiled at one another. You were a team.

Epilogue

While everyone else was still smiling at one another, you excused yourself and walked a few feet away. You opened your new communicator, dialing in a phone number you know by heart. You waited for the person on the other line to pick up, and began to speak.

“Heyyy dad. It’s (y/n); you must have been worried sick, I’m sorry… Yeah no I’m fine, really. I’m in uhhh Jump City and I made some of the coolest friends and I was wondering... if I could stay here? I’ve been spending the whole night wanting to go back home, but I think this might be home for me. I understand if- oh? Really? You’ll let me stay? Wow, thanks dad. I-I promise that I’ll be careful and that I’ll go to school here, I know there's this high school called Murakami School I’ll try to… I love you too dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

You flip your communicator closed, and walked back to your new friends. Raven looked at you.

“Are you alright?” she asked, noticing your change in mood.

“Yeah,” you say, a smile forming on your face. “I’m great actually. Just had to call home.”

“You're going home???” Beast Boy asked, a frown falling on his face.

You chuckled, “Of course not.” You lightly punched his shoulder. “Besides, this is my home now.”

“Awe Yeah!” the green guy cheered. You laugh, feeling extra cheerful. Now that you’re in a team, you really do feel like you belong. You looked at your new team.

“Anyone up for pizza?”

[wdwmarveldisney]

could you write one with a modern au where the reader is a dancer and doesn’t have the typical dancer body like everyone else and is really insecure but race is there to comfort them?

Love?

Racetrack Higgins x chubby!reader

Summary: Three girls make your escape a little less freeing but a confession from Race brings back a little confidence and let’s a small dream come true.

Masterlist

A/N: So as a chubby girl who does musical theatre classes, this was a good outlet. Thank you so much for requesting, it honestly makes my day.

GIF isn’t mine

It had always been your thing. Something you had relied on since before you could walk. The amount of videos of you dancing was unreal. As soon as you were old enough, there you were in classes and on stage, light on your little toes. And slowly as you got older, you joined more classes and spent more of your spare time perfecting form and practicing every minute you could. It was an escape, one you had become so dependant on that it killed you when you missed a class. But things happen when you get older, you start to notice how judgemental people are and how pressuring they can be too. You may dance every day but you didn't have a typical perfect dancer body. You were slightly chubby and people noticed. And they weren't exactly quiet about it.

There was this group of girls in your dance class, the three were your basic bullies. They all found it hilarious when you danced, giggling and whispering behind their hands. It pissed you off. How could they deem you worthy of that treatment just because you were slightly bigger? You'd seen them whisper to others, point out little things and you tried your hardest not to let it get to you. But of course it did. And you had tried everything you could to lose weight but nothing ever worked and you had learned to just try to deal with it. You couldn't but every class, you tried. It had caused you to hate your dance clothes, to lose your confidence, to watch everyone as you hugged yourself to make sure they weren't looking. You were scared of people, everyone judging you.

Today, you were performing on stage in front of this massive crowd. you'd already done the tap number and the jazz and next you had your ballet solo. You were already uncomfortable enough over your leotard and your hair looked a little messy but you only had a minute until you were on so there was no time to fix it. As you slipped on your ballet shoes, there was a knock at the door. Glancing over, you saw Race there in his all his glory. Bright blue eyes, blonde curls and cheeky grin. You had known Race for a while now, being in similar classes at school and getting paired together sometimes in dance. You hadn't actually talked to him, like full conversation talk to him, until a year or so ago. You had both been paired in history and had to do a project over a two week period and you two became quick friends. Of course you had a small crush on him but so did like half the school. And he flirted with plenty of girls so you were just fine to keep the status quo. You were sure he had what those girls had said anyway, probably wouldn't ever go for you and maybe even agreed with them.

He grinned as he leant against the frame of the door with his arms crossed over his chest. "Just came by to wish ya luck. Break a leg," you smiled back, eyes drifting back to your feet as you tugged the shoe on. You knew he was still there so you sent another smile over your shoulder, "Thanks Racer, means a lot," you replied as you got up and jumped to make sure they were on properly. You heard him laugh and felt your stomach drop, arms coming up cross over your stomach. "Gotta go," you muttered to him as you made your way past and to the left wing of the stage. Shaking out your hands, you bounced on your heels as a smile took its rightful place on your face. It soon faded however when you remembered he laughed. He laughed. You knew it, he agreed with them. He agreed that you shouldn't be dancing, that you looked ridiculous out on stage and that you might as well give up. He agreed that you were pathetic for ever thinking that you looked good dancing, that you would ever make it.

You heard the song they were currently performing to end and watched them rush off to the right wing. You slowly headed to your mark and when the music started to play, all thoughts dissipating as you danced. The dance was one you had been practicing for months, you could do it with your eyes closed and  you could had it perfectly timed even with you did it no music. It was practically engraved into your muscle memory and didn't need much thought to what you did next. You were glad the lights were so bright, always happy with the way the audience's faces were blocked out. As you turned, you caught gazes with a certain blue pair that reminded you of what you didn't what to think right of at that moment. Trying to suppress the thoughts, you carried on with the leap. As you went, you could feel everything you were doing wrong and immediately went to point your toes more but that seemed to throw you off as you landed. You twisted your ankle as your foot touched the ground and you tumbled. The music faded as they realised what had happened and the lights dimmed for them to get you off without much without much hassle. You could to see the faces, people whispering one another and you felt the tears begin to well as you immediately got up and tried to walk off stage but it hurt too bad. You fell forward again but this time you grabbed ahold of two arms that happened to belong to a certain blonde beauty.

Oh great, not only did all those people see but also the boy you had a massive crush and was also one of your closet friends had had a front row seat. You looked to eyes, expecting amusement and maybe disgust but the only thing you saw was concern. You would've been confused if you hadn't been in so much pain. You barely registered him lifting your arm over his head and placing it over his shoulders as your dance teacher helped him help you off stage. They sat you down in the dressing room and you saw the three girls leave, giggling to themselves as they went. The tears seemed to get worse as your teacher left to get a first aid kit and an ice pack. Race stayed right by your side, holding your hand as he checked your ankle and completely oblivious to the tears that fell down your cheeks. Sniffling a bit, you caught his attention and quickly you wiped away the tears as you spoke, "I'm fine, you can go," the look he gave you was priceless, the complete disbelief enough to make you laugh a little even with how you were. Race shook his head as he stood and grabbed a seat and putting a cushion there for you to rest your ankle on. "You'se know when I said 'break a leg', I'se didn't mean it literally, right?" You giggled again, making him smile at you all goofily but the worry never went away.

He watched you shift and fiddled his thumbs before finally asking the question on the tip of his tongue, "What happened?" You stared at him, baffled by the words and you shifted again as you winced but still managed to say, "I got hurt," he gave you a look that clearly showed his frustration with the answer before he shook his head and rephrased. He met your eyes as he spoke, a sincerity in his voice that unsettled you, "I mean, I'se seen you do that dance a hundred times and you'se never done that before, what happened?" You scoffed and sunk into your seat as you stared at your swelling ankle. Like he cared. Why would he care about you? He liked dancers, people who were actually good looking dancers and everyone knew that wasn’t you. “I tripped, it happens,” you excused and this time he scoffed whilst moving to grab your hand again. He frowned and his eyes twinkled in the light and you felt your heart stop for just a second. “Not to you. You’se perfect at dancing,”

“Yeah right,”

“What’s that mean?” You avoided eye contact and began to pick at your leotard as you stayed in silence. Knowing he was waiting, you gave a small shrug and bit your lip, teeth digging in as hard as they could and you were worried you may bleed. Race moved his head slightly so he was in your eye sight and you huffed like a sulking child, “Just some stuff. I- There’s these girls-” Race sighed and you looked up at him, brows drawing together in confusion. He changed how he held your hand, grabbing it tightly in both of his and you placed your other hand on his in worry. Why was he looking at you all sad puppy like? “I’se heard what they was saying. It’s not true, you’se gotta know that! You are perfect, ya work hard, ya do anythink ya want, ya funny and sweet and kind and I loves you’se just the way ya are. Who cares ‘bout a little chub, I’se think it’s beautiful and cute,” you heard him laugh as your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped as you registered what he said. He meant as friends, right?

“Love? You, um, you said love? Did you know you said love?” He chuckled at that, moving slightly closer and reaching to wipe away any remainder of your tears whilst still holding your hand tightly. “Yeah, I‘se know. I loves ya,” you watch the smile falter as he glanced down and his shoulders tensed, “Would I, Uh, could I kiss you’se?” You grinned at how nervous he seemed, you made the Racer nervous. You couldn’t believe it. Deciding to mess with him a little, you shrug and pretend to think about it whilst pretending to not notice the growing smile and blush on his face. “Yeah, I think that’d be okay,” his grin matched yours quicker than you could process, loving and goofy. He shifted slightly and reached up to hold your cheeks before he leant in most of the way. You scoffed at the cheeky grin on his lips and he breathed out a laugh at that. “Just kiss me you idiot,” he chuckled, shaking his head as he stroked his thumb across your cheek. You could see the mischief swirling amongst the blue and you rolled your eyes.

“Oh confident now, are we?” With that, you pressed your lips to his and you couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss when you heard the surprised noise from him. Slowly he melted into the kiss, one hand moving to your neck as yours went to his hair, fingers twirling the curls. After a little while, you pulled back from Race and you couldn’t help but giggle at the way he chased your lips. You were both so caught up in each other, you didn’t notice your teacher walk through the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry- Wait, are you two-? Finally!”