#I was fine before I made this but now the absence of a real life 2d man is palpable

[sadnymi]

Lovefool p2

[part one] [Mattheo riddle x reader]

Summary: Being the only girl in the group, and now stuck in the middle of nowhere with them, you found myself in a tricky situation. You had to share rooms, and Mattheo, leaving no room for negotiation, insisted that you would share with him. The problem was, there was only one bed. From uncovering feelings to heartbreak, it was a night you wouldn't forget.

Warning: angst,fluff,strong language, hints of smut .

Words:5,5k + Bonus scene.

When we arrived back home, I quickly said goodbye to the boys, avoiding eye contact with all of them. I couldn't bear to see their pity or confusion. I just wanted to escape to the solitude of my room. Once inside, I shut the door and leaned against it, finally allowing myself to break down. Tears streamed down my face as I slid to the floor, clutching my knees to my chest.

There was only one week left before returning to Hogwarts, and I knew I would have to face them—most of all, Mattheo. The thought of seeing him again made my stomach churn. During that week, I waited for him to reach out, to say something, anything, that would make sense of what happened. But he didn’t. The silence from him was deafening, and it drove me insane.

All the other boys sent me messages as usual. Even Blaise, who had been so harsh, reached out, perhaps feeling guilty for his words. But not Mattheo. He ghosted me completely, and the pain was unbearable. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart would leap with hope, only to be crushed when it wasn’t him.

I spent days replaying our time together in my mind, trying to understand what went wrong. Had I misread everything? Was I just another conquest to him? The questions tormented me, and the lack of answers made it worse.

I remember that night vividly. The way he looked at me, the tenderness in his touch, the passion in his kisses—it all felt so real. But now, it seemed like a cruel illusion, a trick my heart played on me.

I tried to distract myself by throwing myself into reading, but every word I read seemed to blur into the memory of him. I’d catch myself staring at the same page for hours, lost in thoughts of his hands on my skin, his whispered words.

By the middle of the week, the weight of his absence was unbearable. I lay in bed, clutching my phone, scrolling through old messages, and torturing myself with his silence. The boys' messages were kind and casual, but they couldn't fill the void Mattheo left.

Enzo’s messages were the most frequent, always checking in on me, making sure I was okay. “Hey, how are you holding up?” he’d text, and I’d force myself to respond with a lie. “I’m fine, thanks,” I’d write back, even though I was anything but fine.

Blaise's messages were surprisingly considerate. “Sorry about the other day. Didn’t mean to upset you,” he’d said. I couldn’t bring myself to be angry with him; he had only voiced what I feared was true.

But Mattheo? Nothing. No calls, no texts, no attempts to explain or apologize. It felt like he had erased me from his life completely.

The pain was relentless, gnawing at me day and night. I felt hollow, like a shell of the person I had been before. I missed his voice, his laughter, the way he made me feel seen and cherished. I missed him so much it hurt to breathe.

The final straw came the night before we were due to return to Hogwarts. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and realized I couldn’t go on like this. I needed to confront him, to demand answers. I couldn’t start the new school year with this weight on my shoulders. I had to face him, even if it meant shattering my heart all over again.

I took a deep breath and picked up my phone, my fingers trembling as I typed out a message. “Mattheo, we need to talk. Please.” I hit send and waited, my heart pounding in my chest. Minutes felt like hours as I watched the screen, praying for a response.

But none came. The silence stretched on, suffocating me, and I knew that no matter what happened, I had to find a way to move forward. With or without him.

I boarded the train with a heavy heart, my eyes scanning the crowded platform. As soon as I found Enzo, I slid into the seat next to him, trying to muster a smile.

“Hi,” I said, glancing briefly at Mattheo, who was sitting across from us.

“Hey,” Mattheo replied, his voice neutral, his gaze avoiding mine.

Theo soon returned, his eyes lighting up when he saw me. “How have you been?” he asked.

“I’ve been okay,” I lied, forcing another smile. Before I could say more, Draco and Blaise joined us, making the compartment feel even more cramped and awkward.

“Hi,” Draco said, his voice soft, his eyes flicking between me and Mattheo. Blaise offered a similar greeting, his usual bravado toned down, as if he sensed the tension.

I tried to lose myself in my book, Emma another Jane Austen novel, hoping it would distract me from the unbearable atmosphere. But I could feel Mattheo’s eyes on me, and each glance was like a dagger to my heart. His stare was intense, and it made concentrating impossible.

“I’m going to say hi to Pansy,” I announced suddenly, grabbing my bag and book. I left the compartment quickly, not giving anyone a chance to respond.

As I walked down the corridor, I realized I couldn’t face Pansy either. She would ask questions, and I had no answers. I turned a corner, only to overhear a group of girls talking animatedly about their exploits.

“Enzo is amazing,” one girl said, giggling. “Blaise too, though he’s a bit too cocky for my taste.”

“Oh, Theo is a sweetheart,” another girl chimed in. “But Mattheo... God, he’s something else.”

My ears pricked up at his name, and I leaned closer, my heart pounding.

“What’s it like with Mattheo?” a third girl asked, her voice dripping with curiosity.

“He’s rough, but in a good way,” the first girl said, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “He barely looked at me, but I didn’t mind. It felt so good. He didn’t kiss me, though, just... did his thing and left.”

My heart pounded as I continued to listen, hiding behind the corner.

"God, I'd do anything to sleep with Mattheo again," the first girl said, her voice filled with a mix of longing and frustration. "But he doesn't sleep with the same girl twice."

"Yeah, he's got a reputation for that," another girl chimed in. "And yet, somehow, they all are so different with her you know??," she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

" Y/N right? What's so special about her anyway?" a third girl asked, her voice filled with venom.

"She's always hanging around them, like she's one of them. I can't understand how she managed to get in their group."

"I bet they all fucked her at some point," the first girl said, her voice low and conspiratorial. "Do you think they share her? She's their slut for sure."

"I know right?," another girl agreed, her laughter harsh and cruel. "I mean, how else would she keep their attention? She must be really good in bed."

"Or maybe she just does whatever they want," the third girl added. "So pathetic, really. Always trying to act like she's so special. I bet she’s just a desperate little slut."

My heart pounded as I continued to listen, hiding behind the corner.

"Yeah, spreads her legs for any of them at the drop of a hat," another girl sneered. "She's probably been passed around like a party favor."

"And they act so protective of her," the first girl said with a bitter laugh. "I can't imagine why. What do they see in her?"

"They must be playing some kind of game," the third girl suggested. "Maybe seeing who can screw her over the most."

My heart beat faster and faster, each cruel word piercing deeper. Tears blurred my vision as I stepped away from the corner, desperate to escape their venomous gossip.

The world around me seemed to blur as I walked faster, not caring where I was going, just needing to get away. I collided with a strong chest, and looking up through my tears, I saw Mattheo.

"Why are you crying? “ His voice was sharper than a knife

“Who did this to you?" He asked once more when I didn’t answer his hands gently cupped my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears.

I pulled away, my voice shaking. "I'm not talking to you," I said, the tears flowing freely. I turned to leave, but he grabbed my hand.

"Stop it. Let me go," I demanded, trying to pull free from his grip.

"Not unless I know what got you crying like that," he insisted, his eyes filled with the same loving and caring expression that had once made my heart soar.

I looked away, the pain and confusion overwhelming me. "Just go and ignore me like you have been for the past week, or whatever," I said, my voice bitter. "Pretend I don't exist. You're good at that."

His face fell, looking speechless for a moment. I didn’t wait for him to respond. I pulled away, breaking into a run until I found an empty compartment far away from everyone. I slammed the door shut and collapsed onto the seat, sobbing uncontrollably.

The cruel words of the girls echoed in my mind, mingling with the confusion and heartbreak of Mattheo's unexpected concern. Why did he have to care now, after leaving me in silence for a week?

As the train rumbled on, I curled up on the seat, hugging my knees to my chest. The weight of everything pressed down on me, and I felt utterly alone. I had no answers, only questions that seemed to multiply with each passing moment. Why had he treated me so tenderly, only to disappear? And why did it hurt so much to see that same tenderness now, when I was already so broken?

Why had Mattheo been so different with me? Cause I’m pretty sure I wasn’t imagining that night and from what I heard from those girls it seems like he’s a different person from the one they are talking about .

I had a long time trying to explain to the boys why I suddenly disappeared and never returned. They didn’t look convinced, and their probing questions made it clear they weren’t buying my excuses.

Days passed, and I tried to put some space between me and all of them. It wasn’t easy. Draco cornered me in the common room one evening, his eyes filled with concern. "Something happened," he said, his voice low and insistent. "Tell me what it is."

"I'm fine, Draco. It's just family drama," I lied, my stomach twisting with guilt.

"You’ve been skipping meals and acting different," Theo added, joining us with a frown. "This isn’t like you."

"I told you, it’s family stuff," I insisted, hating how naked I felt under their scrutiny. It was like they could see right through my facade.

"Just...let us help," Draco pleaded, but I shook my head, turning away from their worried gazes.

Over the next few days, I was in a bit of a slump. Not only did I skip meals, but I also skipped more classes than usual. If I could have, I would have skipped the whole week, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option.

I grabbed my bag and walked through the courtyard, I overheard a girl talking loudly to her friends. "She's such a slut," she sneered, and my steps faltered. "I bet she's been with every Slytherin boy."

I stopped, my blood boiling. I turned around and marched over to her, my fists clenched. "What did you say?"

The girl looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered. "I said you're a slut. Everyone knows it."

The rage bubbling inside me reached a boiling point. "You think you know me? You think you can talk about me like that? Here’s a newsflash for you: I don’t need your approval or your pathetic opinions.“

Before she could respond, a boy next to her smirked. “Yeah, I’d love to fuck you just like the whole Slytherin boys have. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

I stepped closer, my fists clenched at my sides. "Why don’t you come a bit closer and say that to my face?" I said, my voice trembling with rage.

The crowd that had gathered around us watched with wide eyes and open mouths. "What's wrong?" the girl taunted. "Truth hurts?"

“Do you think it makes you look strong, demeaning someone you don’t even know? Do you think you’re better than me because you can spread lies and gossip? You’re pathetic. You think I care about what you say? The only thing that matters is that I know the truth, and that scares you, doesn’t it? Because deep down, you know you’ll never be anything more than a coward hiding behind cruel words.”

The girl, emboldened by the attention, added, "Your family must be so proud of you. What a disgrace."

"Shut your mouth," I said, stepping closer, my eyes burning with anger. "I don’t care what you think of me, but if you ever talk about my family again, you’ll regret it."

She looked a bit scared but tried to stand her ground. "Or what? You'll hit me? No wonder why your dad left,""

I saw red. I lunged at her, my fist raised, but strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me back. "Let go!" I yelled, struggling against the hold.

"Not her, not now, love," Mattheo's voice whispered in my ear, calming yet firm. He started to pull me away from the mess, his grip gentle but unyielding.

"Mattheo, let go of me," I insisted, trying to break free.

"Not until you calm down," he replied, his eyes full of concern. "I can't let you get into trouble over this."

He guided me into an empty hallway with a balcony, a secluded spot even the ghosts avoided. I was still shaking with rage, my breathing ragged. "Who do you think you are? Don’t touch me! Stay away!" I shouted, pushing at his chest.

"Just breathe, my love," he murmured, his hands cupping my face gently, thumbs stroking my cheeks. "Breathe with me."

His touch, his voice, started to pierce through the fog of anger. I took a shaky breath, then another, my heartbeat slowly steadying.

"Look at me," he said softly, tilting my chin up so our eyes met. "Every single one who talks bad about you is going to regret it. They’re going to wish they were dead before they ever said a word."

"Why do you act like this?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "You act like you care, like you—" I faltered, trying to find the right words. "Your mixed signals are driving me crazy! You pull me closer just to walk away after."

He looked pained, his eyes searching mine for understanding, but he said nothing.

"Say something!" I pleaded, tears welling up. "Anything!"

Still, he remained silent, and the silence cut deeper than any words ever could.

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the rest of the boys appeared. Blaise was the first to speak, his gaze flicking between me and Mattheo. "You okay?" he asked.

I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Theo stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "This happened before, didn't it?"

I took a deep breath, nodding again. "Yes."

Draco crossed his arms, his expression softening. "Well, that explains why you were acting distant. You should have told us."

"I didn't know what to say," I admitted, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Enzo's voice was gentle as he asked, "What happened before?"

I glanced at Mattheo, who was watching me with an unreadable expression. I couldn't bear his eyes on me anymore. Looking back at Enzo, I said quietly, "It was on the train."

Their eyes widened as I recounted the overheard conversation, the cruel words that had been said about me, and how it had all culminated in the confrontation just now. Mattheo's gaze never left me, and I knew what he was thinking, but I couldn't deal with it anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking. "I just... I need to go to my dorm. I'll see you all tomorrow."

Enzo stepped forward, his concern evident. "I'll walk you."

I nodded, unable to look at Mattheo as I turned to leave. Enzo fell into step beside me, his presence a small comfort amidst the chaos.

The next day, as I walked into class, I was met with an unexpected wave of greetings and offers of help.

"Hey, need any notes from yesterday?" asked one girl, her smile bright and friendly.

"I saved you a seat," another girl said, gesturing to the spot next to her.

"Do you need a quill? I've got an extra," someone else offered, holding out a shiny new quill.

I looked around, confused by the sudden change in behavior. These were the same people who had ignored me or worse, whispered behind my back just a day ago. Before I could process it, a group of girls approached, all smiles and compliments.

"Your hair looks amazing today," one of them said, her tone overly enthusiastic.

"Yeah, and your shoes are so cute!" another added.

"Thanks," I muttered, bewildered by their sudden interest.

Then, the girl from yesterday's confrontation appeared, looking hesitant. She took a deep breath and stepped closer. "I'm really sorry about what I said yesterday," she began, her voice shaky. "Please forgive me. I didn't mean any of it, and I feel terrible."

I stared at her, trying to make sense of this abrupt apology. "Why are you apologizing now?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.

Before she could respond, I noticed him. The boy who had made that disgusting comment about me the day before. His arm was in a sling, supported by a wooden splint, and his face was a mess of blue and purple bruises. He had a black eye, swollen nearly shut.

"I, uh, fell down the stairs," he mumbled, not meeting my gaze.

I looked between the two of them, realization dawning. My stomach churned, and I felt the sudden urge to get out of there. Grabbing my things, I bolted from the classroom, not stopping until I was far from the castle. I found myself in a hidden garden, a place where I often went to think.

I sat down on the ground, trying to calm my racing heart and catch my breath. I wasn't dumb. I knew what had really happened. I knew who was behind the sudden wave of attention, the apologies, the broken bones. It wasn't hard to piece it together.

Mattheo.

But clarity seemed a distant dream. I leaned back against the tree, closing my eyes, and tried to find a moment of calm amidst the chaos Mattheo had left in his wake.

I stayed in the garden for what felt like hours, trying to find some semblance of peace amidst the turmoil. Eventually, I knew I would have to face him, to confront what had happened and what it meant. But for now, I just needed to breathe.

I felt someone approaching and sat beside me. I looked up and met Mattheo’s eyes. He was holding a book in his hand.

I felt someone approaching and sat up, my heart pounding. When I looked up, I met Mattheo’s eyes. He was holding a book in his hand.

"I—I got this for you," he said, his voice soft.

I glanced at the book, then back at him, and took it from his hand. It was Persuasion, another Jane Austen's novels. My heart beat even faster as I muttered a thank you. Then I noticed the blood on his hands, despite his clear attempts to wash it off.

He asked, "What were you reading on the train?"

I stared at him, incredulous. "You’re seriously asking me about my books while having blood on your hands? and probably terrorized the whole school before coming here!" I shouted.

He just smirked. "Are you insane, Mattheo? Seriously, what the hell?" I yelled again.

He raised his eyebrows, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I told you they were going to regret what they said yesterday, didn't I?"

"I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help," I snapped, trying to walk away, but he grabbed my hand, pulling me back until my back hit the tree.

"I know," he said.

I rolled my eyes and looked away, trapped between his hands on either side of my face and the tree behind me. His closeness was overwhelming.

"You’re insane," I muttered.

"Well, I need to talk to you, and you left me no other choice," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I chuckled sarcastically. "You kidding me? Because as much as I remember, you were the one who left after—" I stammered, my face turning red, unable to finish the sentence.

"Yes, my love, after what?" he asked, smiling even wider.

"After I went down on you? Or when I had my finger deep inside you?" he continued, his voice low and teasing. I put my hands over his mouth, desperate to stop him.

"Oh, Lord, stop," I said, my voice a whisper. He kissed my hand, sending a jolt through me, and I pulled it away quickly, my face burning even more.

"Don’t go shy on me now, love. I’m pretty sure I kissed more intimate parts," he said, leaning closer to whisper in my ear. "I've had your taste on my tongue for weeks."

I tried to hit him in the chest, but he grabbed both my hands with one hand, pinning them above my head.

“Listen,” he said, getting more serious. “Enzo told me about what Blaise said that day.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I really want to know another tale about you with a girl in bed.”

“Another tale?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

I looked him in the eyes, my voice trembling with both anger and hurt. “I heard what that girl said on the train. About how good you were in bed, how you liked it rough, just did the job and left with no kisses. She wasn’t even complaining, Mattheo. She said she’d do anything to sleep with you again, but it’s too bad because you don’t sleep with the same girl twice."

“Did she now?” he said, smirking.

“Fuck you, Mattheo,” I said, trying to pull away, but his hold was too strong. “Fuck you so much. I get it. I was delusional to think it was more than a one-time thing for you because you don’t sleep with the same girl twice, you don’t—” My voice cracked, betraying my emotions.

"Did it look like a fucking one-time thing back then, Y/N?" he demanded, sharp and serious. I avoided his gaze, my anger and pain battling inside me.

"Answer," he insisted, his face inches from mine. I looked up at him, the intensity in his eyes making it hard to breathe.

"No," I admitted, my voice barely audible.

"Because it fucking wasn’t," he said. "It wasn’t a simple fuck. I was making love to you, and that freaked the shit out of me." The veins in his neck stood out as he spoke, his eyes blazing.

I blinked, trying to process his words. "So, yes," he continued, his voice lower but no less intense, "what the girl said was right. I’ve fucked other girls like that. Rough, fast, no strings attached. Just getting off and moving on. No kisses, no tenderness, just raw and dirty, didn’t look at them more than I had to.”

My breathing grew heavier as his words sank in.“So, does it look like that now?” he asked, his voice softer but still intense. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed.

“Fucking look at me Y/N,” he commanded, and I looked up at him, shaking my head.

“Every time I look at you, at those lips,” he whispered, his voice dropping lower, “all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you. How much I want to taste you. How much I want you in every way. It’s not just about fucking. It’s about you. Every part of you, that night... you were in my arms, and I managed to sleep. You have no idea how rare that is for me.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, my body responding despite my confusion. I could feel the heat between us, the undeniable pull that had always been there.

I looked at him, standing there, rain-soaked and intense, and the tears kept falling from my eyes.

“And no, I don’t want you to be my friend,” he continued, his voice rising. “I want to hear you moaning my name. I want to have you, all of you. To kiss every inch of you. To make you smile, to see you laugh. To put your happiness above anything because nothing else matters. Nothing but you.”

His words were raw, cutting through the rain and my confusion. The sheer intensity of his confession left me breathless, my heart pounding in my chest. I could feel the pull, the magnetic force between us, stronger than ever.

“I’ve tried to stay away, to keep my distance,” he went on, his voice breaking slightly. “But every time I see you, it’s like a punch to the gut. I’m fighting a losing battle. I don’t just want you. I need you. In every way possible.”

I stood there, soaked and trembling, unable to speak. His words had stripped me bare, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. The rain continued to pour, a relentless backdrop to his declaration.

“So tell me, do you understand now?” he asked again, his voice softer.

I swallowed hard, my throat tight with emotion. The truth of his words was undeniable, resonating deep within me. I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself, and met his gaze.

“Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I understand.”

He reached out, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I will be so good to you,” he murmured, his thumb brushing my skin. “I would do anything for you. I fucked up, and I—”

I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his, cutting him off. For a moment, he was surprised and didn’t kissed me back, I pulled back, looking him in the eye. And as if a dam had broken, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer.

He leaned down, capturing my mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. I felt his hands on my waist, lifting me effortlessly. My legs wrapped around his hips as he held me against him, the kiss growing more passionate. The rain poured down, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else.

His tongue parted my lips, and I opened to him, the taste of him intoxicating. He kissed me with a fervor that made my head spin, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me tighter against him. I could feel the hard lines of his body, the heat between us almost unbearable.

"Wait," I managed to gasp, pulling back slightly. "The book, the rain—"

"I'll get you a new one," he promised, his voice fierce, breathing heavily against my lips. His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling gently until my face tilted up to meet his gaze. Then he kissed me again, more fiercely this time, as if he couldn’t get enough.

I melted into him, my hands clinging to his shoulders as he devoured me. His lips moved over mine with a raw, desperate need, and I responded with equal fervor. The world around us disappeared, the rain, the cold, everything fading away until there was only him, only us.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, his forehead resting against mine. "Come with me," he murmured, his voice a soft plea. "Let's get out of this rain."

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest, his hand slipping into mine, and we ran through the rain. We found shelter under a nearby awning, the sudden silence after the roar of the rain almost surreal.

He looked at me, his eyes dark and intense, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. "You're soaked," he said, his voice gentle, as he brushed a strand of wet hair from my face.

"So are you," I replied, a smile tugging at my lips.

"Well, we make a pretty pair then," he teased, his hand settling on my waist.

I laughed, the sound light and carefree, a stark contrast to the storm still raging around us. "We do, don't we?"

His gaze softened, a tender smile playing on his lips. "I've never seen anyone look so beautiful soaking wet."

I rolled my eyes playfully, running a hand through his wet hair. "You're just saying that because you want to kiss me again."

He grinned, leaning in closer. "Maybe. But it's true." His lips hovered over mine, the anticipation making my heart race. "And for the record, I do want to kiss you again. Very much."

"Then what are you waiting for?" I challenged, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He didn't need any more encouragement. His lips captured mine in a kiss that was both sweet and passionate, his hand tightening on my waist, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the warmth of his body through the wet fabric of our clothes, the contrast to the chill of the rain making my skin tingle.

As the kiss deepened, his free hand slid up my back, tangling in my hair. I moaned softly against his lips, the sound making him groan in response. He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against my skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "The things I want to do to you."

My cheeks flushed, and I looked down, feeling a mix of excitement and shyness. "Like what?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "I want to make you mine in every possible way," he said, his eyes burning with intensity. "I want to hear you scream my name, to see you come apart in my arms. I want to kiss every inch of you, to make you feel things you've never felt before."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit my lip, trying to suppress the blush that was spreading across my cheeks. "You're making me blush," I whispered, my voice shaky.

He smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Good. I like it when you blush." He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "I like knowing I'm the one making you feel this way."

I closed my eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. His words, his touch, everything about him was overwhelming. "You're insufferable," I muttered, but there was no heat in my words, only affection.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through me. "You love it," he teased, his lips pressing a soft kiss to my neck.

I sighed, my fingers threading through his hair as I leaned into his touch. "Yeah, I do," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I really do."

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine. "Good," he said softly, his hand cupping my face. "Because I'm not letting you go."

I smiled, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the rain. "I don't want you to,".

"So, I really have done it in your Mr. Darcy way, haven't I?" he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I was always jealous of him, when you talked about him like that you know?"

Before I could respond, his mouth was on my neck, kissing and sucking gently, then more insistently. I let out a soft moan, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Perfect," he said, admiring his handiwork.

I laughed, breathless and flushed. "What was that for?"

He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "It's for Blaise. Since he loves to ask so much."

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress my smile. "You know he went on a date last night, right?"

"Did he now?" Mattheo replied, his fingers trailing down my arm. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent another thrill through me. "And what if I don't want to be claimed like some trophy?" I teased, raising an eyebrow.

He pulled me closer, his lips brushing against mine. "Then I'll just have to work harder to prove I deserve you," he whispered, his breath warm against my skin.

I smiled, feeling the warmth of his words seep into me. "You've already proven that," I said softly, kissing him again. "But I wouldn't mind seeing you try."

He laughed, the sound rich and joyful. "Challenge accepted."

We stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, the rain a distant memory. His hands roamed over my back, his touch sending sparks of electricity through me. I leaned into him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against my chest, and knew that this was where I belonged.

"We should get inside," I said, glancing at the castle in the distance. "Before we catch our deaths."

"Right," he agreed, but made no move to let go. "But just one more kiss."

"Just one more," I echoed, leaning up to meet his lips again.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ Bonus scene ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

As we approached our usual spot, I saw Blaise, Enzo, Theo, Pansy and Draco already seated, with an unfamiliar girl sitting beside Blaise.

I caught Blaise’s curious gaze fixed on my neck. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing grin spreading across his face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Blaise said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Is that a hickey, Y/N?”

I felt my face heat up, and before I could muster a response, Mattheo leaned forward, his grin turning positively devilish.

“Yes, mate,” Mattheo said smoothly. “It is a hickey.”

Blaise’s eyes widened slightly before he broke into a laugh. “By whom, I wonder?”

Mattheo wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “By me, obviously,” he declared, his voice filled with pride. “Wanted to make sure everyone knows she’s mine.”

I blushed even deeper, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

Draco looked between us, his grin widening. “Well, it’s about time. I was starting to think you’d never make a move.”

Mattheo chuckled, his hand moving to rest possessively on my waist. “Trust me, I’ve made plenty of moves. Just decided it was time to make it official.”

He winked at me. “Just make sure he treats you right. If not, you know where to find me.”

Mattheo tightened his hold on me, his eyes flashing with a playful warning. “She won’t need to, because I’m going to treat her better than anyone else ever could.”

I laughed, the tension melting away as I leaned into Mattheo’s embrace. “I think I can handle him.”

"So," Pansy said, leaning forward with an impish grin. "Does this mean you're off the market, then?"

"Consider me taken," Mattheo said, his voice firm. "And very happily so."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Tag list :

@heelshiree @hoeforvinniehackerrr @cookiesex115 @mgchaser @mayamonroem @hereticdance @heelshiree @fallingblackveils @cardi-bre91 @sonnderlust @too-efn-old-to-be-here @gemizminee @broadwaybaby123 @howdyhowby@hisparentsgallerryy @sksksksk28

[schoenpepper]

How about for our early xmas gift, you give us a version where Yuu comes back to twst again🙂

(You broke my heart po💔)

Maybe This Time

Intro: Everything changed after you left. But maybe he still stayed the same.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, jade is veryy bad, kinda yandere ish

A/N: Counted as a sequel to this, though you can probably read it as a standalone. Sige na nga anonnie merry xmas happy new year nlng sayo haha. Maybe this tiiiime it'll be lovin' they'll find—*gets shot*

Masterlist

Jade forgets what it's like to live.

The day you left, all color drained from the world he resides in. Rather, your absence pushed him from being an active participant into one that only watches.

Still, it only takes him a day to get back to work.

"You can take a longer break."

He waves off Azul with such a well-practiced smile even he might believe it. "I don't need a break. What is it for, even? There's no use reminiscing over such boring things."

Boring.

Boring boring boring.

The word makes him livid. It makes him seethe with a burning, passionate anger he was unaware was even stored within him. Maybe that's why you left. Maybe Jade failed to excite you. He and his brother are people that stay because of interest, so perhaps the reason you left was because Jade could no longer interest you. Is that it?

Why else?

Why else would you shatter him the first chance that you get?

It takes him one week to forget.

Not you. Sevens know he'll never forget you. You were a whirlwind that crashed through everything he knew and smashed him to smithereens. It takes him a week to forget that he's still hiding his pain.

He forgets he's in pain.

You're a rotting, festering wound that he's buried under layers of pretend. He's such a good actor even Floyd is—

"Stop cryin'."

Well. Maybe not Floyd. Jade raises a hand to his cheek and finds no tears. "You weren't crying. But I made you look, right?" Floyd grins, "Hurry and pack. Maybe nonna can help you get over shrimpy. She's real good at life advice~"

He's sure life advice won't help, but it wouldn't hurt (any more) to try.

The waters of the Coral Sea are frigid. It doesn't numb him enough when he's so used to it, but it's alright. He's fine, anyway. There's no more regret. No more bitter hatred. Only the familiar salt of the ocean water. His parents mean well when they fret over him, asking his twin brother for details. His grandmother is worriedly chattering over his shoulder, and he's made aware that he's unable to fool them this time. He's good at pretending. His family couldn't pick out his faux smiles when he's entangled in mischief, nor could they identify the mock innocence he likes to act out when he gets into fights with other mer. But now, why now? Why are they able to press their hand on that beating, dead thing in his chest and attempt to comfort it when the only thing it wants to do is wallow and wither in nothingness?

They couldn't tell when he was pretending to be good.

But they can tell that he's pretending to be okay.

It doesn't make sense.

It takes one month for everything to fall back in routine. Sleeping potions and pills and spells aid in nights when he's preoccupied with memories of a person he wished never existed at all.

His grades are higher than they'd ever been, and he's so ridiculously productive. It's all on track. Everything is just as it was before you. There was a time in his life before you. He can fill in the empty spot you'd left behind with dirt and the pieces of himself you'd killed that fateful day.

And thus, there will be a time after you.

"Jade," Azul hands him a familiar plush toy, "Floyd told me to give this back to you."

The felt shrimp plushie is mocking him; there is no other explanation. It's one half of a pair, actually. In some dingy arcade in town was a claw machine filled with small mushroom, shrimp, egg, onion, and garlic plushies. The owner called the machine "shrimp fried crane game". You were the one to win one mushroom plushie you kept for yourself, and you gave him the shrimp.

The mushroom was in your suitcase.

In his rampage (he wouldn't call it that, really), he had destroyed everything that reminded him of you that same night, or rather, early morning. He watched polaroids and love letters burn inside a metal dumpster he'd hauled from school grounds. The shrimp wasn't part of the bonfire.

It seems Floyd had snuck it away.

He inspects the toy with his usual smile, tight-lipped and close-eyed, nodding at Azul. He wants it out of his sight for a long, long time. If it could feel as forgotten as he felt, let those feelings be transferred to you. He wishes you pain and agony and guilt and regret.

It takes one year for him to let out a genuine chuckle.

His twin brother stares at him like he'd grown a second head, and Jade is aware it's unusual. Even though the joke he'd laughed at was so inane, the fact of the matter was that he laughed, which in itself is so strange. Perhaps this is a good thing. No, it can only be a good thing. What is it if not a sign that he's healing?

And soon, he won't remember you at all.

And you will cease to exist in his mind.

But it's not meant to happen today.

No, with that little laugh, grief like several tonnes of cement hit him right where it hurts the most; it's heavy, and debilitating, and it makes it nigh impossible for him to even breathe.

(Because you were the air he once consumed, and neither humans nor mer are made for such long term suffocation.)

"I've never seen you laugh before," the young man in front of him smiles with thick, syrupy lovesickness, "it suits you."

The person is an underclassman who'd been following him around recently. Like a poor mockup of your silhouette, he hears the same promises you couldn't keep from the mouth of another. It irks him more than he'd like to admit, because if he does, then it means admitting that he still remembers you. It means he still holds you up in his altar and lights flames in your name.

He does not.

Whoever says otherwise, whether it be Floyd or Azul, or Silver or Riddle; they all lie.

He only remembers you in anger. In bouts of madness that makes him question your existence, it is then that your name leaves his lips.

It takes one decade.

For what?

For forgiveness? For the hate to fade?

On his 27th birthday, his phone rings with a number he's long since engraved in his heart.

Jade forgot how to live in your absence.

In the decade you'd left, he only existed. It is a passive state of consistent routine that allows him to appear normal to his peers. Still, his closest people know he was left incomplete. He became a creature without a sense of purpose, and it was a sad thing. How pitiful it was for a predator to be reduced to a vessel containing shards of a broken heart.

Still, it is your name that he finds. It is your number.

A number from a phone kept in some dark corner of NRC's storage room. It's likely a student who decided to scroll through your contacts and found his contact name amusing. You did have quite the strange penchant for putting strange names in your contact list.

He answers the call in a moment of boredom.

There is nothing interesting to do in a business party.

"Hello? Jade?"

He stops. There is nothing in this world or yours that could erase each and every memory he's ever made with you. The voice is one he's heard often and dreams and even more in nightmares; it has replaced the voice of his dead conscience and pushed him to a meaningless drifting existence instead of finding thrill in things you would despise him for.

It's been a decade and instead of forgetting you, he didn't know when he melded you into his bones and stitched you into the fabric of his soul, but he knows you more than he knows himself.

"I'm back."

There is no more bitter hatred. There is no more regret.

"Can you pick me up?"

In one moment, it all dissipates into nothingness and there is only you.

Jade remembers how to breathe again. He feels that withered thing in his chest beat once more, and he feels alive.

It takes one decade for you to return.

And he didn't know he was waiting for you, but then, what could every second without you have meant if not just an endless eternity of patiently waiting?

"Did you see my message?"

"I did."

"Are you not afraid I'll make good on my promise?"

"I've never been afraid of you."

Yet, perhaps you should be. He may no longer despise you with every fiber of his being, but you'd betrayed him and lost his trust. There will be no more second chances. You will stay unlike before, and if he must break every mirror in the world to ensure his heart remains beating, then it will be all too easy.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @lemon-koii @fsh1

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 23

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, angst, tension, anxiety, mentions of car accident/reader in accident, aftermath of accident, trauma as a result of accident, memory loss, mentions of cheating, extreme guilt

It’s been a week since I got out of the hospital, and I wish I could say things were starting to make sense again, but they’re not. Physically, I got lucky. The only real injuries were a sprained wrist and some bruises, but mentally not so much. The memory loss feels like a black hole in my mind. It’s like I’ve been dropped into a version of my life that I don’t fully recognize, surrounded by people who feel more like strangers than anything else.

Alex has been around, sort of. He’s here in the way someone fulfills a duty they didn’t really sign up for. It's like he’s just going through the motions, and I feel it, how distant he is, how different everything feels between us. It’s weird because I don’t know why they’re like this, I don't remember if or when things changed. In my mind, everything was fine, but now.. everything about him feels off.

The first thing that confused me when I got home was why none of his things were in our apartment. I remember our place having his stuff scattered all over - his gym bag by the door, textbooks on the table, his clothes always draped over the back of the couch. But when I came back, it was almost like he didn’t live here. The absence was unsettling, like I was in someone else’s apartment instead of my own.

The memory loss is like living in a fog, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t break through it. Alex has been no help with trying to remember anything. He’s distant, dismissive, like being around me is more of an obligation than anything else. Hell he’s been no help with anything at all, trying to do things for myself, cooking, cleaning, even doing my hair is so hard, and I can’t help but feel that if the roles were reversed I’d be doing everything in my power to help him.

I feel lost in my own life, so I figure maybe it’s time to find some comfort elsewhere, someone who might actually have some answers.

I sit on the couch, my phone in hand, staring at the screen for what feels like forever. Who do I even reach out to when nothing feels familiar? After a while, one name keeps coming back to me. Nick. Our interaction at the hospital made me feel seen. I felt safe around him. I need someone who might actually care, someone who can help me piece together this fractured reality I’m living in.

I open up my messages and search for his name: Nick. There it is, our chat history. I can see the old texts, dozens of them, conversations that clearly meant something once. I can’t bring myself to read through them, though. The thought of diving into a version of me I can’t remember feels too overwhelming. What if I don’t like who I used to be? What if these texts reveal things I’m not ready to confront yet? My stomach twists with unease, but I shake it off.

Instead, I type out a quick message, simple and noncommittal.

"Hey Nick. Sorry for the text, but I was wondering if you’d want to hang out sometime? I’m trying to figure some stuff out, and maybe you could help me fill in some gaps."

I hit send before I can overthink it. Immediately, a wave of nerves crashes over me. What if he doesn’t reply? Or worse, what if he does, and it just makes everything even more confusing? But I need to do this. I need to try and get back some sense of who I was, even if it freaks me out a little.

I toss my phone onto the couch, not wanting to stare at it while I wait for a response. Maybe this will help. Maybe reconnecting with Nick can help me piece together parts of my life that feel like they’ve been erased.

Matt’s POV

The past week had been a blur of darkness. This is what I imagine hell to feel like. I hadn't left my bed, except to scavenge for food in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone seeing me like this, so I made sure to avoid everyone. When they knocked on my door, tried to offer comfort or check in on me, I told them to leave. I couldn’t handle it. It felt like I was grieving someone who was still alive, someone who didn’t even remember me.

I lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of that night in my head. The headlights. The screeching tires. Her scream. The words I should’ve said but didn’t. They haunted me like a broken record, stuck on repeat, taunting me with the things I can never take back.

Then, there was a knock on the door.

“Go away” I muttered, barely above a whisper. I couldn’t handle another conversation, not now.

But the door opened anyway.

Nick stepped inside, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. "Matt, I’m coming in whether you like it or not."

I didn’t have the energy to fight him. I just stayed where I was, buried under the covers, as if they could shield me from everything I was feeling. Nick sat down at the edge of the bed, not saying anything at first, just looking at me like he didn’t know where to start.

After a minute, he broke the silence. “Y/n texted me.”

My heart clenched at the sound of her name. “What?”

“She asked me if I  wanted to hang out, maybe try to piece together some of her past. It’s so sad seeing her like this, like she doesn’t know anything. It’s like she’s starting over completely." Nick paused, running a hand through his hair. "And you know what's even weirder? Knowing that asshole Alex is still lurking around. I don’t get it, Matt. Why haven’t you reached out to her? She could use someone who actually cares about her."

I let out a bitter laugh. “I can’t, Nick. I’ll only hurt her. I’m the reason she’s like this in the first place.”

Nick’s brow furrowed, confused. “Why do you keep saying that? How the hell is this your fault? It was an accident Matt.”

I sat up slightly, leaning against the headboard, knowing I couldn’t avoid this conversation any longer. Nick deserved to know the truth. The weight of it all had been suffocating me, and maybe telling him would give me some kind of release, even if it didn’t take away the guilt.

“You don’t get it, Nick. You think I just liked Y/n, that it was some crush, but it went further than that. Way further. I loved her, I love her.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “Since the night I met her we really clicked. We had this instant connection, like we just got each other. I started remembering the little things about her, like how she hated fish, or how she could be so quiet and then burst into laughter that filled a room. There was this one night, Emily asked me to get her purse from Y/n’s place, the night Alex got into the fight. I got there and when she opened the door, it was obvious she’d been crying, it killed me to see her like that, I thought about her the whole drive home so once I left Emily to the club I had to go back to her. So I brought her back here, we all ended up playing Mario Kart together, remember?"

Nick nodded but stayed silent, waiting for me to continue.

"I can’t explain to you how much comfort I found around her. The feeling she’d give me inside. I would've kissed her that night, man. I would have. But then you came in, telling us about that fight Alex had. The moment was gone. Then Emily gave out to me for being around her so I had to cut her off, but the feelings for her always stayed. The night we were all on the beach after Topgolf, it was just the two of us walking, I loved just being by her side, it felt so freeing to just be in her presence again.I wanted to kiss her so badly that night too but then it was Chris and that stupid fucking jelly fish. I couldn’t get enough of her, she opened up to me that night about Alex, told me she’d given up skating to provide for Alex. Have you ever seen that girl on the ice? I mean she was training for the fucking Olympics of all things. I just wanted to see her happy. So the next night, I rented out the LA King’s Valley ice skating rink just for her.. God if you could’ve seen the way she lit up that night, to give her something that was hers. I kissed her that night. Hell, I’d spare you the rest of the details, but… yeah, it wasn’t just a crush. I cared about her more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I wanted to protect her, to be there for her, but I couldn’t even do that right.”

I swallowed hard, the guilt rising like bile in my throat. "The night of Tara’s party she told me that Alex and Emily were cheating on us. I thought it was my way out, Nick. I thought I could finally leave Emily and be with Y/n, and I knew she’d leave Alex. But then.. one of Y/n’s earrings must’ve fallen out in my bed when she passed out in there. Emily found it before I could even confront her about Alex. She blackmailed me, man. Said if I left her, she'd ruin Y/n’s life. She'd tell Alex everything, make her life a living hell."

Nick’s face twisted with anger. “And you believed her?”

“I did. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m a coward, Nick. I should’ve walked away right then and there, but I didn’t. I went to that party with Emily, and I told Y/n that what we had was a mistake and that it was over.” My voice cracked. “She was devastated. I could see it in her eyes. I shattered her heart right there and then in that bathroom. And then.. she ran.  She ran into the street. I tried to get her off the road but I was too late. One of the last things I heard her say was that she loved me. I know she was about to say she thought I loved her too, but I cut her off. I told her to get off the road. And then…”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. My throat tightened, and I pressed my hands to my face, trying to block out the memory.

Nick sat there, stunned. “Matt..”

“It’s my fault” I whispered. “All of it. She was only on that road because I made her believe what we had wasn’t real. But it was, Nick. She’s the realest thing I’ve ever had.”

Nick was quiet for a long moment, and then he shifted closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Matt, I get why you’re blaming yourself, but you didn’t make that car hit her. You didn’t cause the accident. And as for Emily? Screw her. Y/n would want you to fight for her, not to hide away."

I shook my head. "I can't, Nick. She doesn't even remember me. She doesn’t remember any of it. I’ve lost her."

Nick’s grip tightened, his voice soft but firm. “Then remind her. Show her who you are. Don’t let Emily, or Alex, or anyone else take that away from you. You love her. That’s all that matters.”

I wanted to believe him, but the guilt was too heavy, too consuming.

a/n: i'm literally only capable of posting this rn bc i watched the 2023 tea party and it made me laugh

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel l @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties @ncm9696 @chrisstvrns @schlutt4matty @chrissolos @ilusa @amelia-sturniolo3 @wonnieeluvvr @pussydestroyer100 @amexiass @mystinkylefttoe26 @lizzysmith110 @sturniololovebot @secret-sturniolo @freshythefishy @witchofthehour @stvrnlover @alizestvrnss @beachbabe000 @pinkdyit

[eumivrse]

HOUSE OF CARDS : nanami kento

summary when nanami catches up to you in kuantan, he vowed to make it up to you for lost time.

warning(s) IMPLIED SHIBUYA INCIDENT SPOILERS!!! i tweaked it from canon obvi, nanami & reader are married, dirty talk, fingering, fem receiving oral, squirting, creampie, breeding, kitchen sex, lots of profanity, some fluff and angst !!

word count 4,435

note manifestation of ‘me and nanami are actually in malaysia rn’. also title inspo from house of cards by bts bc the song is angsty yet it sounds raunchy?!! that’s the intention !!!

“You’re going to hurt your neck sleeping like that.” A familiar voice awoke you from your slight doze, blinking twice to see your husband crouched in front of you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, lips trembling as you clasp your arms around him. Sniffling against his chest, you crumple your hand on his blue button up, a way to convince yourself that this is real.

That he really made it out alive.

“I hate you.” You sob, jabbing at him with light punches. Fellow passengers exiting from their respective flights are staring at you two, but you couldn’t care less when a huge lump in your throat has been removed.

He pats the back of your head, your chin resting on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, honey. Have you been waiting long?”

This trip has been something you mutually have been anticipating since last year. Your husband had always wanted to visit Malaysia and naturally, you decided that the first time you two will ever go out of the country as a married couple will be here at Kuantan.

Getting your schedules aligned for a 2-week long getaway— well, it wasn’t easy. Working as sorcerers under the jujutsu society doesn’t grant you much vacation time. After all, there’s not enough people to compensate for your absence if the both of you go under the radar for two weeks straight. And it definitely didn’t help that Kento is highly valued as a first grade sorcerer.

Your flight was scheduled for 8:30PM until he got a call saying he was needed at Shibuya urgently even though it has been settled months prior that he will be out of the country by this time. To say that you were livid that they even asked for him doesn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

But of course, in his old Kento fashion way, he reassures you, “Go on the flight without me, love. I’ll catch up with you. I promise.” You knew his words were empty— you had an intuition especially since it was an urgent request and people’s lives were already on the line.

It was selfish for you to want him to ignore the calls that night but you knew there was a chance— even if it’s a mere 5% — that he would never be able to catch up with you.

His sweet voice convinced you enough to go on the flight anyways, but the 10 hour flight to Kuantan was the probably worst 10 hours you’ve had to live through in your life. Being on a plane with an empty seat next to you where your husband is supposed to be sitting had you thinking all kinds of crazy thoughts, your heart sunken. You damn near already prepared a eulogy in your head from the thoughts intruding your peace of mind.

It wasn’t until you were waiting at the airport that slumber had overtaken your paranoia and you fell asleep in one of the waiting areas near the boarding terminals, although uneasy.

“Is everything at Shibuya okay now?” You choke, face flushed with heat, eyes streaming with tears that had no sign of stopping any time soon.

“There are problems, but everyone’s fine. I don’t want you to worry about that right now, though.”

He presses a loving kiss on your forehead before parting from the hug and standing up from his knees.

He holds out his hand for you to grab onto. “Let’s go,” he looked so fatigued, but he couldn’t even think about his body crashing down on him when he’s just relieved that he’s able to see you again.

You take his hand, using the back of your free one to wipe your tears away. “Okay.”

It was easy to find out why Kento was dreaming of this place. It was simple, yet the natural scenery was what made it so beautiful. Palm trees swaying along with the wind’s grace, the water in its crystal glory, reflecting onto the sky’s clementine hue, indicating the sun’s time to rise. You took your time to walk through the beach before settling in your rental, waves crashing across the shore far enough that it grazed your ankles.

Kento stood right where the seas met the land, letting his shoes get soaked despite it being completely out of his usual self. He’s very particular about keeping things neat, after all.

You lock your arm around his, gazing up to see him completely immersed with nature, eyes closed and head stretched back towards the sky. The bags under his eyes were apparent under the sun, the corner of his lip slightly upturning into a small smile. It’s not common to see him at such serenity considering he was just at the verge of death hours prior.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted.�� He cherishes, always having an appreciation for the simplest of things. If he could just run away and live here with you, away from the trauma he constantly experiences. He knows that’s not productive and that neither of you would actually approve of it, but he couldn’t care less about technicalities right now.

It’s a good change outside the chaos and turmoil you constantly experience at work and living in the city. The gentle breeze glides past Kento’s hair, and you stay still for a short while, taking advantage of this moment as it’s rare to do so back at home.

The vacation rental you chose was perfect— walking distance from the beach and all the local businesses. The owners even left a welcoming note for the both of you and complimentary slippers to walk around the house in. It’s nothing grand, but you preferred this over a resort to keep things relaxing.

Kento plopped himself down on the couch and you decided you wanted to explore around to find something to eat. The anxiety was eating you from the inside earlier and you swore you would have puked if you ate.

You quickly changed from your previous outfit which reeked of airport air to a sundress you thought would be perfect for the tropical weather. He was dozing off on the couch with his neck craned, arms crossed, face towards the ceiling with his eyes closed, so you sneaked out of the house with quiet footsteps.

You came back just in time to see Kento in the same spot, except shirtless with a towel draped over his head. His damp hair gave you the impression that he had just taken a shower and you realize how long you took outside just to end up back here with a bag of Laksa and rice that you purchased from a nearby canteen.

Although it was safe to say that you got lost.

He was sitting with his elbows propped on his lap, fingers laced together like something was clouding his mind. “Are you hungry?” You ask as you walk across the living room and to the kitchen.

“Not necessarily,” he briefly replies. Exploring the cabinets for some plates, Kento got up from his position and helped you prepare the food by untying the plastic bags and pouring it on bowls. You set the food on the island, taking a step back and almost tripping on his foot, unaware that he was right behind you with utensils in hand.

You giggle and he chuckles while he places the silverware on the counter, one of his hands catching your shoulder. “Careful, love. Forks are no joke if they hit your eye.” You roll your eyes, finding it ironic that he’s so careful with forks knowing he’s seen you fight against things far more dangerous. Turning around, you only notice now that his bare chest is smeared with faint marks that resembled burn scars. It’s not uncommon for him to be wounded, but you always tend to get emotional when you see him hurt.

Concerned, you express your thoughts. “These look serious, are you okay?” You look up to meet his eyes, pursing your lips with the intent to suppress your tears. Trying to stay calm and collected was your way to not make Kento feel bad again, but how could that work when he already knew how you felt from the moment you asked?

He uses the tip of his thumb to catch the tear on your right eye before it even had the chance to trickle down. “I’m more than fine. Ms. Ieri got treated right away, it’s just that some of it is still healing.” His dulcet tone almost immediately made you feel a sense of tranquility as if his voice can make you forget all the problems in this cruel world.

“I’m glad,” you croak.

He leans down, eyes peering down your lips as he whispers gently, “You don’t have to worry about it anymore, okay?” And with that, he kissed you with a hint of longing and zeal, lips sealing onto yours with eagerness to go further. Your body had shifted due to his weight, your lower back hitting the ledge of the island, mouth opening into a small gasp. Kento grabbed that as an opportunity to shove his tongue inside as he curled his hands onto the edge of the counter to sandwich you in between.

Your hands roamed around his back, pulling him in closer that your chests are pressed against each other, tilting your head in intervals all while saliva started to seep out of your mouth from how messy and needy Kento seemed to be. You were tired— he’s tired, but the adrenaline rush of being under pressure for an extensive amount of time allotted you the energy to want something like this.

Kento is hungry, but not in the way you initially assumed.

You nibble on his bottom lip before he pulls away, his face rosy. “The bedroom— we should go there.” It was difficult to be coherent when you’re growing impatient and in heat, hiding the wet spot forming under your pretty little sundress.

He refuses by grabbing onto the back of your thighs and picking you up, placing you on the quartz counter. Your arms are laced around his neck, tucking your lips with enticement at how he was able to pick you up so swiftly when you don’t necessarily consider yourself light. He shakes his head, “I wanna have my food now though.”

Rolling your eyes, you giggle in embarrassment, “You’re a damn tease, Kento.” After all, nothing else could satisfy his cravings and relieve his pent up stress besides you.

He did the honors of lifting your dress up, seeing the huge spot of your arousal apparent on your panties. You hold onto the hem of the garment as he pinches on the garter of your underwear, pulling them down all the way, then letting it fall past your ankle and on the wooden floor. Your cunt glistened with slick already running down the middle of your slit, Kento collecting it with his index and middle finger before spreading it all over your folds. Legs trembling with anticipation, you twitch when he taunts your pussy by inflicting force on your sensitive clit with the tips of his fingers.

You hum, “Are you done playing with me yet?” He slips his fingers under and down where your hole is, pushing them in and letting you adjust around it before kneeling on the floor, so he could be eye-level with your cunt.

He blinks towards you, eyes glued onto yours as he spreads your legs apart with his free hand. “Not playing with you, baby. Just making sure you’ll feel comfortable.” Kento reveres as he pulls his fingers out from your hole to replace it with his tongue. Your upper body leans back as reflex, palms placed on the surface of the counter to keep leverage.

You cry out moans of his name mixed with a few curses as he switches between giving your clit small kisses and licking you all over your dripping pussy. “Fuck, Ken’. You’re making me go crazy…” It also didn’t help that he would look you in the eye periodically as he slides his tongue all along your slit. Just seeing him in between your legs with slick smeared on his cheeks was more than enough to make you cum.

Likewise, Kento’s shorts were starting to feel rigid, his cock rock hard under the tight confines of his clothes. Hell, he feels like he might cum now before he even gets the chance to do anything with it. He takes a pause, teasing your throbbing hole by flicking his index finger against it. He coos, “So beautiful…” Gazing up to meet you eye to eye again as he suctioned his lip against your clit, sucking on it like there’s no tomorrow. He wondered for a moment why he was even dreaming of Kuantan when he already gets the best view in between your legs whenever he wishes to.

One of the spaghetti straps of your dress fell loose on your shoulder, your tit almost peeking through the sorry excuse of a paper thin fabric. You take a chunk of his hair to pull onto as Kento pushes the base of your ass, giving him more allowance to make sure no drop of arousal is left wasted by catching it with his tongue. Heat rushed up to your cheeks as you threw your head back, snapping your eyes shut for a quick second before whimpering his name.

It probably isn’t smart to be so loud when the town is just getting started with their day at 9 in the morning, waking them up with noises you’d only hear at the dead of night. You could only pray that these walls are thick enough to mask the lewd noises from your neighbors.

A puddle of drool and slick pooled right below you as Kento proceeded to shove your thighs apart, not letting them get near each other to keep you wide open. He spits on your cunt, watching his drool drip down your ass while he aligns his fingers back against your hole, slipping them in as he continues to lick your clit.

You suck your breath in, “Kento, please, please, please—! Keep going—“ He had to chuckle in amusement that you’re already so worked up when he’s barely even begun, shoving his fingers in and out of your slippery pussy, far enough that you feel the desperate need to release.

He exhales, keeping his digits in steady speed, “Need you to cum all over my tongue, baby.” That request was a little selfish from his end, rushing you to your orgasm as he plunged his fingers in deep enough that clear liquid projectiled out your hole. You screamed his name while he used his mouth to slurp it all off, giving your clit small little pecks in between to ease you from your release.

His knees were sore as he stood up, coarse hands massaging your inner thighs as you wiped his chin with your thumb. “Are you okay?” He asks, sweeping his hands up to your waist then your shoulders.

“Mhm,” you hum, still trying to catch your breath.

He examines your state, looking you up and down with a smirk on his face. “Was this the dress I picked?” He pinches the loose strap on your shoulder and you nod.

“Yeah, and the one you paid for.” You wink.

He slowly lowers the strap on both sides, letting the dress fall enough for your titties to spill out, nipples all cute and perky. “It looks perfect on you, honey. But do you wanna know something?” He leans in closer to your face, his breath puffing against the tip of your nose.

“Hm?” Your curiosity is piqued, although you were becoming impatient with the growing need of him inside you. You knew he was holding it off as a way to taunt you.

“I think you’d look better with it off.” He whispers cheekily.

You look up with a scrunched face, half out of flattery and the other because of his crassness. “You’re so filthy,” you giggle, but you weren’t going to deny the throb of your pussy when he said those words.

He chuckles with a low gruff before locking his lips with yours, tugging you closer by gripping onto the side of your ass. You hop off the counter for a moment, parting from Kento with bated breath as you frantically shed the rest of your clothes off, leaving you bare. Not being able to get a good view prior, you finally see the tent poking through his shorts.

With a faint voice, you egg him on, “Need your cock inside me, Ken.” Cupping his clothed bulge, you graze your hand in a slow up and down motion, your husband cursing under his breath. You close in the space in between you, lips just right against his neck. “I want your cum shoved deep inside me, wouldn’t you like that too?” With a kiss on the crook of his neck, he could see that smug grin plastered on your face from the corner of his eye. You knew the weight of your words and how much that affects him. If he hadn’t had the self control he could’ve came right here and now.

He seethes, trying his best to save himself from the embarrassment. “Such a dirty girl you are.” When he grabs the back of your thighs, you use that as a gesture to leap back up on the counter, lacing your arms around his neck to keep him near.

You pout, “I learned from the best.”

Kento pulls his shorts down along with his boxers, his fat cock springing out, tip all pink and angry with translucent pre smeared on the surface. Your pupils dilate at the sight even though you’ve seen this in more scenarios than you can begin to imagine. His size has always been intimidating, biting your lip out of anticipation and slight nervousness.

With your legs already wide open, he presses the curve of his cock against your folds, sliding it up and down to warm himself up, his tip poking on your clit. Kento praises, “You’re so pretty,” cupping your cheek as he uses his free hand to align his cock right on your hole, pushing himself inside of you as slowly as possible.

You were squeezing onto him and he watched how your eyes knocked at the back of your head, mouth agape. Your cunt was sucking him in so well, it didn’t take long for him to thrust to the hilt, grunting from how tight you were. “Holding up okay?” He asks, hands wandering from your waist to your boobs, putting pressure on them with his palms to massage you, coaxing you to his size.

Your breath was shaky as you responded with a laugh tinged with an anxious tone, “Yeah… let’s stay like this for a minute.” You felt so full, you swear you could feel the veins on his cock pulsing against your walls.

“Okay, love. Take your time.” He presses a delicate kiss on your forehead. As soon as he flicks his thumbs on your nipples, you tightened around him again followed with a squeal slipping past your lips.

Your arms are still hung around his neck, using that to pull his face closer to yours. You could see every detail of his face from his prominent cheekbones to a few tiny red scratches he probably obtained from his mission earlier. You faintly hum, “I love you so much, Kento.” He smiles at that, his cheeks flaring a light pink tint. “I love you even more, sweetheart.”

A prompt, yet languid kiss closes off any other distance you may have had and you break away not long after just to give him the green light. “I’m ready now.”

Kento pulls his dick out halfway, then takes his sweet time to thrust it back in, testing the waters to make sure he isn’t hurting you. Your thighs tremble as he pulls away even further the second time, to the point where only the tip is inside. Sighing at how hollow you felt, you nearly choked on your gasp when he suddenly stuffed you full of cock.

Your jaw hinged open, Kento holding onto the back of your knees to bend your legs and spread them outwards to resist your urge to clamp them close. He moves his hips in slow, yet deep strokes, his balls pressing up on your ass with each thrust. He keeps your head from falling backwards by grabbing the back of your neck with one of his hands, fingers pressing on the sides. Your cunt was fluttering around him, staring at his face perspiring with sweat from his conscious efforts.

He looks up, meeting your eyes. His damp hair was sticking to his forehead, his bare chest rosy from this heated moment. Your eyes are glazed over, half lidded as if you’re already drunk on his cock. From the moment he sheathed into you, you already knew walking properly wasn’t going to be an option for at least the next day. He praises, “You’re taking me in so well, love. So well…” He places his hand on your tummy, pressing over the soft pudge of your stomach.

You squirm, your lips were moving, but not a word actually came out, just feeble whimpers and moans as drool dribbled from the corner of your lips. The sun was shining a little too brightly across the kitchen window, somehow it felt dirtier to be doing this in broad daylight, let alone in the kitchen. “Wanna…” you start, pausing for a moment when the head of his cock plunged further in your cunt than just a second before. “Fuck, hah— Kiss me—“

It’s not like you gave him a choice anyways when you drew him back in for a sloppy kiss. You were eager, sticking your tongue out for his to swirl around with. He groans into your mouth when he picks up the pace, slamming his cock fast and deep enough that his pelvis would press against your tummy. He grips on the plump of your ass to keep you in place and you wince the rougher he would fuck into you. You teased him by digging your teeth onto his bottom lip, in which he murmured a slurry curse in response.

You were being split in half, the slight curve of his cock making you feel like it’s nudging through your abdominal walls. Kento seemed like the composed one as he kept consistent with the speed of his hips, fast enough to keep you on your toes, but also slow enough so that you aren’t in pain. Although the thoughts running through his mind don't pale in comparison to you.

Kento is fucking obsessed with everything about you. He almost came earlier just eating you out and he hadn’t even been touched at that point yet. The saliva running down your chin, your lashes fluttering as you moan into his mouth — oh god he truly thinks you’re the most precious thing on earth. He felt nothing but guilt making you go through hell by letting you go on the plane with ambiguity if he’ll be safe or not, so this was really the least he could do to make up for it.

You part from him, a thick strand of saliva snapping the connection between the two of you. He curved his cock up enough that it prodded your g-spot and it was obvious he did when you gasped, the sharp stream of air reaching your throat nearly making you cough. “Right there, fuck yes, just like that baby—“ you moan, Kento pounding his cock into you over and over, making sure he hits that spot again until you let loose.

His balls are throbbing with the sole desire to empty inside of you, his cum just sitting on his tip, waiting to fill you full. He grunts, “Want me to cum inside? Hm?” You nod feverishly, curling your upper lip into your lower.

Kento has a bruising grip on your ass that you knew for sure would leave that spot sore after this. He snaps his hips, just waiting for you to release already, adding his thumb on your clit for extra stimulation. Blood rushed through your cheeks as you mewled a soft ‘Kento’ before reaching your high.

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “Oh yeah, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Feeling the sudden warmth around him, Kento’s hips stuttered, the compression of your cunt milking him dry. He lazily drew circles on your clit to help you come down from your orgasm and with your arms still locked around him, you pulled him back, his forehead clashing onto yours. “I love you.” You grin meekly.

“I love you more,” he repeats, keeping himself buried inside you, draining all his cum in your pussy ensuring that not a drop is left wasted. You let go of your embrace and he holds your waist as he pulls out, his cock pearled with a mix of your slick and his cum.

White, thick cum leaked out of your hole and Kento plugged his thumb back in your walls to shove it back in. You shiver when he took it out and placed it over your lips, willingly lolling your tongue out to take kitten licks on his finger.

You almost fell to your knees when you stepped off the counter, your husband catching you by the arms. “I don’t think we can go out later.” You laugh the ache off, referring to the fact that you wouldn’t be able to walk.

He holds your hand and kisses the top of your head when you are able to stand up straight. “That’s fine. Let’s just catch up on sleep today.”

“So do you still want that food over there?” You tilt your head towards the Laksa you purchased earlier. Kento takes a glance towards the other side of the counter where it sat and laughs, “Well now that we’ve kicked up our appetites, that’s looking really good right now.” You look at the surface you were just getting fucked on and realize how gross and sticky you feel right now.

“After I take a shower.” You smile with a flustered expression.

“Want me to start you a bath?” He offers, bending down and using his free hand to pick up clothes that were scattered on the floor.

You squeeze his hand, limping in wobbly steps as you lead him to the bathroom. “Only if you’re going with me!”

[blurredcolour]

The Only Truth... | Part Two

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x POW Flight Nurse!Female Reader

Once rested, Bucky proves to be a rather difficult patient, but it's nothing you can't handle. Once he's discharged, however, the man still finds a way to remain close, even when he's no longer the one in need of medical care.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Nightmares, Detailed Description of Death by Gunshot Wound, Blood, Gore, Reader Scars, Hospital Setting, POW Camp Setting, SS Officers, Mental Health Struggles, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5001

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April 12, 1945

The light of dawn began to filter in through the murky windows of the hospital and with Bucky once again sleeping deeply, but now with all apprehension about his ability to wake again lifted, you began to carefully shuffle about the space and take care of some duties you had neglected for the last twenty hours. Emptying a few bed pans for those too weak to move, you scrubbed them clean in the meagre washroom before beginning to work on bandage changes, blinking futilely at the bleariness in your eyes. You had made it through two patients when the doors to the hospital were unlocked and Major Chalmers filtered in with Captain Menzies, another British medical officer, clearly just released from their combine.

It had taken several weeks for you to realize that the man introduced to you as ‘Mingies’ was the same as the man whose name was written as Menzies on the charts and not some other doctor who worked mysterious hours. Both men waited for you to finish treating the rather ghastly thigh wound inflicted by one of the ubiquitous German Shepherds – miraculously still not showing signs of infection – before you washed your hands and delivered your report on Major Egan.

“Very good, Nurse. Why don’t you go rest for the morning, we’ll see you around 1300 hours.” Chalmers replied.

Exhaling with a grateful nod, you excused yourself down the hall to your ‘accommodations.’ The former exam room had been stripped of all medical equipment to leave a cot, a small wooden cubby for your meagre collection of belongings, a tiny table for you to eat your solitary meals and write your correspondence, and a rickety washstand with a chipped enamel basin and mirror split with a spider’s web of fractures hammered directly into wall above it. With no interest in anything but sleep, you sat on the cot with a heavy sigh. You pulled the six remaining pins from your hair, having misplaced four throughout the last several months and still not having your confiscated effects returned to you, and kicked off your boots before laying down to sleep for a few hours.

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 The next time Bucky awoke, you were nowhere to be seen. He was plunged back into a world of dull, gritty, pungent masculinity and he was admittedly bereft. The pain in his back seemed all the more acute in your absence, and though there was again a serving of broth, it was tepid at best. Perhaps he could have withstood the continuation of a grim life all painted in the same grey palette, but to have that disrupted by your presence and then have that light and color taken away? It was even worse than not having had it to begin with.

It made him all the more sullen and combative when the British doctor Chalmers informed him that he would have to remain in hospital as a patient another night rather than being permitted to find the rest of the 100th and bunk with them.

“I’m perfectly fine Doc, all rested up, can walk, talk, and piss all on my own. I don’t need to be here a minute longer – the rest of these fellas are way sicker than me.”

The surgeon narrowed his eyes in response, clearly not appreciating his directions being questioned, but Bucky had had more than his fill of taking other people’s orders. He just wanted to get the hell out of here and back to people he knew.

“One night, Major Egan, that’s all I’m asking. The only bunks for new arrivals are in tents, if you’re lucky.  In here you’re warm, dry, and have a bed that’ll feel nicer on those ribs – which are going to take four to six weeks to heal, might I add.”

Bucky was about to open his mouth to reiterate his protests when his eyes caught sight of you appearing from down the hallway, coming to standing behind Chalmers with your arms crossed and a stern look on your face. It was so utterly reminiscent of one he had received from his mother on countless occasions that he was momentarily unable to speak before clearing his throat to concede to the doctor’s request.

“Good.” Was his diplomatic reply before he turned to see you there. “Ah, Nurse, welcome back. In some irony of the universe, we’ve actually received a Red Cross shipment of supplies. Would you kindly catalogue the contents the goons have left for us and add it to our stock?”

Bucky did not miss the exasperation in your expression – it certainly did seem like a cruel joke for supplies to arrive with the end of the war surely weeks away.

“Certainly, sir.” You replied before looking to the large and very much opened and rifled-through box up against the wall essentially opposite to his cot.

Settling onto his stomach, he draped his arms across his pillow, nestling his chin atop his forearms to watch you work. “Don’t get a lot of supplies around here, do ya, angelfish?”

As you glanced toward him, he noticed you had changed your clothes, into equally threadbare ones but fresh ones all the same, and had tidied your hair. He would have taken you to a dance in Times Square looking like that. In a heartbeat.

“No, we most certainly do not, Major.” You shook your head and made a soft noise of triumph as you managed to fish out the packing list – something to compare the remaining contents to, he supposed. “Might mean we got more rations too though, corned beef and liver pate to eat desperately before they go bad.” You gave him a wry smile which he returned.

So the Germans here liked to punch holes in the cans, too. Good to know. Bucky watched as you retrieved a pencil from the central desk and began to unearth boxes of gauze and ointments and all manner of things he was only vaguely familiar with. He drowsily studied your profile, lips tugging fondly at the way you stuck your tongue out slightly in concentration, trapping it between your teeth and grunting in dismay when something you obviously were hoping for was not there. Hovering on the border between sleeping and waking, he jumped slightly as you gently nudged his shoulder, holding out two pills and his mug filled with fresh water.

“Aspirin.” You whispered and he raised an eyebrow before plucking them from your soft palm, tossing the pills into his mouth and chasing them down with a slug of cold water.

“You’re a goddess, angelfish.” He murmured, laying down his heavy head as you moved to tuck him in again.

Your soft laugh in response made him smile drowsily. “No Bucky, just a nurse. Now stop fighting it and go to sleep.”

He was yanked back into consciousness by the sound of your voice some time later, tone flat and impatient.

“Just let me finish changing his bandage, please.”

“Nein, it is lights out and you are going back to your room now schwester.” The rude, clipped reply of the SS guard had Bucky forcing himself up off his cot, gritting his teeth against the screams of protest in his frighteningly unstable ribcage.

His eyes flashed around the room before they landed on the uniformed man grabbing your elbow to usher you from the bedside of a patient and down the hall. Bucky stumbled to his feet, peering around the corner after you to watch the man shove you into the room on the left before pulling the door shut and snapping a padlock into place. Bucky narrowed his eyes, moving over to the patient you had been forced to abandon, supplies still on top of his blanket.

“I’m no nurse but I can give it a shot?” He muttered to the fellow who gave him a small shrug in return. “I’ll be back when the coast is clear, then.”

Bucky slid back into his own cot, watching the guard stomp his way out of the building before slamming the last set of doors shut, the lock snicking into place behind him before the lights all went out. Blinking against the darkness to force his eyes to adjust more quickly, he made his way down the hall, feeling his way along the rough-hewn wood of the wall and over to your door before knocking softly.

“Angelfish? You alright in there?”

“Bucky?” Came your muffled answer shortly after the sound of your footsteps approached.

“Damn they lock you up like in here like some kind of fairytale princess.”

There was a soft snort and Bucky could not help the smirk that pulled from him. “Anything I should know before I try and finish that guy’s arm?”

There was a pause before you cleared your throat and responded with, “no it’s pretty straight forward but…but if it smells anything like cheese would you mind letting me know?”

“Cheese…” He replied slowly.

“The smell of infection, Bucky.” You sounded amused and he wished more than anything he could take in your facial expression then.

“Got it. I was born in Wisconsin, raised for this.”

“And then you’re going to immediately put yourself in your cot and rest, Bucky.” You said firmly.

“You got it angelfish. You, too.”

“Night, Bucky.”

Gathering his courage and putting on a mask of cool, level-headedness, he returned to his fellow patient’s bedside, removing the old bandage and bowing his head to take a deep whiff. Thankfully, for everyone’s sake, there was definitely nothing cheese-like about it. He then bumbled about in the dark of the room, applying perhaps the ugliest bandage known to man, but a bandage nonetheless, and returned to his cot as instructed.

It was not easy to drag the blanket up over his body from behind, especially with the newly aggravated soreness from his careless activities, but Bucky managed to settle down and fall into an uneasy sleep, exhaustion still dwelling deep in his bones and sucking him under. It did not take long, however, for his dreams to be haunted once more by images of deadly accurate shots burrowing their way between Buck’s shoulder blades on the other side of that wall. Of his friend’s blond head falling into the mud just shy of the treeline, just shy of freedom. Waking with a start, he glared around the dark, unfamiliar room and looked to the floor, frowning as you were not there for him to hold onto this time.

He had not fully woken the night before, but he had sensed enough of your calming presence to return to a deeper plane of sleep. To chase away the darker voices that threatened to fill his mind. Leveraging himself to a seated position, he grabbed his blanket and shuffled his way down the hall once again in search of your soothing influence, even if there was the interfering barrier of a door. Bucky’s descent to the ground was less than graceful, his ribs protesting fiercely and as he settled on the floorboards, he was filled with a sudden doubt in his ability to rise from this position. But then he heard your voice.

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

When Bucky had not immediately bustled back down the hall with tales of an arm wound stinking of ripe cheese, you had relaxed somewhat into your nightly routine, stripping to your long underwear for a proper night’s sleep…that did not really present itself. It was honestly not that surprising given the way you had pushed the boundaries of night and day, your body really was not sure what to make of it. You were just on the cusp of finally falling asleep when there was a commotion outside your room, the door rattling in its frame, the padlock jostling slightly.

Hearing a slightly familiar grunt, you sat up. “Bucky?” You called you softly.

“M’fine, angelfish, just sleeping out here.”

Your eyes widened and you practically leapt from the bed, crossing the room in record time. “Are you really ok? Sleeping…. on the floor?!”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just needed company.” He muttered from below and you slid down to lay on the floor, peering through the gap at the bottom of the door with one eye.

It was surely flush with the floor when the building was initially built, but as the hospital settled into the ground, about an inch-and-a-half had opened up below the door, allowing you to glimpse his face not far from yours.

“You had plenty of company in your comfortable cot, Bucky.” You whispered and the eye you could see flashed open, face turning to meet yours through the gap.

“Not yours, angelfish.”

“I don’t suppose I’m going to be able to convince you to go back to bed? No idea how the hell you’re going to get off this floor anyway…” You sighed, cheek pressed tightly against the floorboards to see as much of him as possible.

“I’m down for the count, I’d say.” He huffed with a poor show of playfulness.

Frowning, you looked over the visible portion of his face slowly. “You have another bad dream?”

He grunted noncommittally and averted his gaze, essentially confirming your suspicion. Sliding from your spot on the floor, you fetched your blanket and pillow before laying them down to rejoin him. “I get ‘em too. Stuck on that crashing plane and I can’t get off. Or the chute won’t open. Or I can’t…” your throat clenched, and you swallowed to clear it. “Can’t get my flight jacket off and I just burn up.” Your voice refused to come out any louder than an exhale, but you still managed to speak the last few words.

His eye slowly met yours once more though the thin opening halfway through your confessions and his brow furrowed. “Flight nurse?”

“I was, yeah. Just a kriegie nurse now, I guess.” You laughed wryly, trying to find a comfortable position on the uneven floor, the nail heads poking up into your shoulder.

There was a long pause as he seemed to weigh the pros and cons of unburdening himself to you before exhaling slowly. “I sent my best friend to his death. Least that’s what my dreams tell me. He didn’t want to run, I convinced him and then…well they almost caught him until I distracted them…”

“And got the shit kicked out of you.” You sighed, slipping into your ways of foul language on the edge of sleep, in the dark of your room.

Thankfully, by the twitch of his lips, he did not seem terribly put out by it.

“Basically.” He heaved a great sigh and you nodded, sliding your fingers under the door, as far as your knuckles would allow.

“No matter what happened, Bucky, he’s not in a place like this anymore. And that is a mercy.”

“Hmmm.” He hummed, unconvinced and you swallowed.

“What kind of man is he?” You lined up for another approach.

“Smart, too damn smart of any of this – built a radio out of a list of random junk I collected for him. He’s got the sweetest girl back home who writes him like clockwork. They were gonna get married if he got back. Was gonna be his best man.”

Taking a deep breath to summon your façade of brave optimism once again, for his sake, you nodded firmly. “When he gets home, you will be his best man.”

He looked to you hopefully, slowly sliding his fingertips to brush against yours beneath the coarse wooden bottom of the door. “Yeah?” He breathed.

“Yeah, Bucky. Yeah.” You nodded again, offering a smile, hoping it somewhat reached your eyes. “Now. Let’s try and get you some sleep.”

“Didn’t hear anything ‘bout you in that statement, angelfish.” He murmured sleepily and you hummed with drowsy laughter.

“I’m just about there, but not until you give in first.”

After a few beats of silence, you cracked your eye to check on him, pressing your lips together to smother your laugh as you caught him quickly squeezing his eye shut. It was not long, however, until his breathing evened and deepened, his mind at last surrendering to the sleep his body desperately needed. Swallowing tightly, heart throbbing slightly at the way his face softened, and the way his fingertips remained pressed stubbornly against yours as tightly as the door would allow, you tucked the pillow under your head, sliding your eyes shut to try and get some rest as well.

Despite the wildly uncomfortable position, you somehow managed to remain asleep until the next morning when Bucky began to shuffle and shift, soft noises of discomfort escaping him as he tried to find his way back to his feet.

“Roll onto your good side.” You coached through your drowsy state, and he stilled a moment before appearing to obey. “Bend your knees, then push up to sitting.”

There were still some grunts, but fewer overall, and the whole endeavour sounded a lot less like a fish flopping against the door.

“Then use the handle to pull yourself up with your good hand.” Holding your breath you waited until you saw two sock feet, firmly planted and steady on the floor, before rising on your side of the door. “Well done.”

“Still have a bit more time to sleep, angelfish.” He rumbled and you bit your lip fondly at his sleep-roughened voice.

“You, too.” You replied, pressing your forehead against the rustic wood, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall until only silence remained.

You managed a few more hours’ sleep before the morning guard unlocked the door, delivering your morning pitcher of frigid water for your facsimile of a bath with a sliver of soap and rough wash cloth. Enjoying a breakfast of crackers and margarine, you reported for duty just as Chalmers was discharging Bucky, finding it suddenly difficult to meet his eyes in the light of day – the entire encounter in the dark feeling too intimate to recall in such a crowded, public space.

“Take care, Major Egan.” You smiled friendlily and followed Menzies out to the tent to assist with the removal of a set of sutures.

“You got it, Nurse.” He replied, the marked absence of the quirky nickname born of his inability to speak the day of his arrival halting your steps as you involuntarily glanced back over your shoulder to make sure he was really all right.

A grin slowly unfurled across his face, lighting up his exhausted features before he shot you a playful wink. You swallowed roughly as the day suddenly felt altogether too warm for your oversized sweater.

“Made ya look, angelfish.” He teased and you pressed your lips together desperately trying to smother your responding grin, conceding the fact that he had indeed made you look with a nod, before hurrying after Menzies when he barked your name from further into the canvas extension of the hospital.

Bucky’s discharge, unlike every other patient before him, did not mean that he dissolved into the general population of the camp. Somehow, he still managed to find reasons to make an appearance, dropping off bits of scrap wood to burn that he and his friends had collected to make the time pass faster, or arranging a crew of his men to deliver the hospital’s broth allotment to alleviate that burden from Chalmers and Menzies. He always appeared to be obeying his discharge orders and not hauling anything himself, at least when he arrived with his deliveries. Whether he was behaving out of sight was another question entirely.

Not only was the assistance greatly appreciated, but you found yourself looking forward to his visits as a break from the monotony of grim tasks of which your work consisted. Somehow, despite his worn-down spirit, he still managed to leave you feeling notably lifted by the time he was inevitably shooed out for getting underfoot or distracting you a little too long. Chalmers and Menzies were patient – indulgent even – but even they had their limits.

Four relatively peaceful days passed under this new routine, with no new arrivals in camp but, sadly, a few of the weaker patients in the hospital giving up the fight, until the sound of shots rang out mid-morning on the 18th. A great clamor arose among the patients indoors and the general population beyond the canvas walls of the tent, before a group of prisoners were rushing inside, Bucky at the fore, with an injured prisoner strung across their collective shoulders.

“Lay him here.” You gestured quickly to the cot you had been stripping after the death of its occupant sometime in the night, having succumb to infection and lack of food.

You did not miss the wince that crossed Bucky’s face as he maneuvered the injured man – no more than a boy, really – to lay where you had instructed. At the sight of a deep red stain, rapidly growing in circumference on the boy’s side, your eyes shot wide, and you looked to Bucky sharply.

“Find me Chalmers and Menzies immediately.” You stressed the need for expediency before turning back to begin rapidly pulling at the boy’s clothes, trying to locate the source of all that blood.

The shocking white expanse of his belly finally exposed, you found the gaping wound left by a large calibre round near his belly button, casting about frantically for your basket of fresh bandages to press against it, desperately trying to staunch the flow. What you would not give for a packet or six of sulfa right then. The pressure you put on his tender abdomen drew a yowl of pain from the boy and you frowned up at him sympathetically.

“I know, son, I know. We’re going to get this all fixed up alright?”

“Can’t b, b, believe they shot me! I just…just wanted to see the flowers poking through the fence and they just…Fucking war’s almost over anyway…” He was beginning to shiver uncontrollably, a sure sign of shock and you glanced towards the hospital doors, relieved to see Chalmers and Menzies rushing out to help.

“I’ll bet those flowers were beautiful.” You gulped as the bandage in your hand was rapidly soaked through and grabbed a few more to wipe the area clean, trying to permit the surgeons to inspect the wound itself.

No sooner would you swipe away the rapidly welling crimson fluid, than the hollow below his ribs, carved out by months of hunger, would accumulate a fresh pool of blood. There were noises of dismay before the pair of surgeons rolled the boy to check for an exit wound. They shared a dark look as there was none to be found, shaking their heads at one another. Your patient erupted into a panic, thrashing about, kicking you squarely in the thigh and knocking you back into Bucky, who thankfully stopped your rapid descent toward the muddy floor.

“I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die!”

“Nurse! Hold him!” Menzies barked and began to fish around in the boy’s wound to see if he could find the bullet.

Shrieking filled the tent as you lunged forward to press down on his shoulders, trying your best to soothe him even as his shirt grew damp with his own blood, transferring to the fabric from your fingers. He was stronger than he looked, the panic only amplifying what little strength he had left, and you sent a grateful nod to Bucky as his much broader palms took over pinning the boy’s shoulders while you collected his flailing hands between yours.

“Easy now, easy. Docs are going get you right as rain, just hold still now.”

“I’m gonna die and there’s not gonna be a heaven and there’s gonna be nothing!” The boy’s wild eyes wheeled on you, fairly punching you in the gut, and you shifted his wrists to grip in one hand against your chest while the other stroked at his hair tenderly with the other.

“Come now – you’re going to be alright. Besides, I’ve met the Pope. You think they’d keep that man in his fancy house and fancy clothes for nothing?”

His lips were growing a frightening shade of white from the blood loss, the rest of him the unsettling grey pallor of imminent death, but he seemed greatly calmed by your papal revelations. His hands shifted to grip at yours and his brow furrowed earnestly, the only movements of his body now were the echoes of the desperate attempts of the surgeons below.

“I want my momma. Tell my momma that I…tell my momma…” He trailed off into a whisper, the light slowly dimming from his eyes until there was nothing, his hands going limp, and he was gone.

Swallowing brutally, you carefully shifted your fingers to his throat, checking for a pulse and turning to Chalmers and Menzies when you found none. A simple shake of your head was all it took to communicate that you had lost the boy. Chalmers let out deep, aggrieved sigh while Menzies threw down a blood-soaked bandage with a wet slap and stormed back into the hospital. Gently setting the boy’s lifeless hands across his chest, you straightened slowly, feeling Bucky eyeing you from the other side of the cot.

Something ugly was welling up inside you, desperately trying to claw its way out, and you took a step back.

“Angelfish?” Bucky’s voice was low and cautious.

Your only response was to shake your head violently before stepping clear of the end of the cot, then breaking into a run. Following in the footsteps of Menzies, the words of the Army Nurse Corps pledge rang through your mind, the words you had sworn to serve by as a Nurse.

‘I shall approach him cheerfully at all times, under any conditions I may find…I shall appear fearless in the presence of danger and quiet the fears of others to the best of my ability.’

Reaching the end of the hallway, you stared at the door to your quarters and nearly choked on the idea of facing that stuffy, windowless room. You needed air. Needed to breathe. Turning sharply to the left, you continued along past the utility room and out the backdoor into the small courtyard between the hospital and the barbed wire fence that separated the Russian side of the camp.

‘…I will remember that, upon my disposition and spirit, will in large measure depend the morale of my patients.’

The flight nurse’s creed came flooding back to you next as you sought refuge between the back of the hospital and the bowed lines of laundry, stained sheets and bandages hung in the weak April sun to dry. What a different person you had been when you had spoken those damn words at your graduation from Flight Nurse Training.

Taking short, sharp gulps of air, each inhale was used to forcefully shove down the scream that was bubbling perilously in your throat. You paced to-and-fro, bloody hands planted on your hips. Surely you looked nothing short of mad when Bucky rounded the corner of the building, using that aggravatingly soft voice again as he spoke your name, making your head snap towards him.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.” You choked out, turning from him, fixing to flee once more.

“Too bad.” He ground out as he continued coming closer, clearly intent on comforting you, but if he got too near, you were terrified you were going to shatter entirely.

“Patients aren’t supposed to see me like this.” You could barely speak, hiccoughing and shuddering breaths intersplicing your words awkwardly as your grip on your emotions began to slip through your bloody fingers.

“Not here as a patient.” He muttered and slid his arms around you, pulling you close and you buried your face into his chest to let out a wail of agony – for the man who died in front of your eyes, for the horrid situation you found yourself in.

Somehow, you managed to maintain the wherewithal not to grab at him with your filthy hands, arms sticking straight out behind him awkwardly as you squeezed his sides with your elbows, knees threatening to give out as you found yourself not having to be the strong one for the first time in quite a long time. Bucky’s grip only tightened on you, fingers curling into your shirt to hold you up patiently as you cried yourself hoarse against him. Eventually there were no more tears to cry, the self-pity and grief you had stored up over the past few months running dry. Pulling back slightly, you wiped at your face with your sleeves, accidentally exposing a portion of the angrily scarred flesh on your left forearm.

Not missing the way his eyes flicked to it immediately, you sharply pulled your cuffs down and straightened fully. “You should get out of here before some goon puts a hole in you…”

It was supposed to be a joke, but your voice wobbled threateningly in abhorrence at the thought of losing someone else today, and Bucky promptly pulled you close again.

“Easy angelfish, not gonna get myself shot now. Not after you went through all the trouble of bringing me back.”

Sniffling affectionately against him, you pulled back to meet his eyes. “Thank you, Bucky.” You patted his chest fondly. “But please don’t go around carrying any more people with those broken ribs.” You gave him a stern look, finding it difficult to deliver as he smirked with a soft laugh in return.

 With a soft sigh, you moved to return inside and assist with the clean up.

“Bucky?” You stopped and turned back to him suddenly.

“Yeah, angelfish?” He glanced over his shoulder, halfway to the other side of the building.

“What’s your first name?”

He raised an eyebrow. “John.”

Nodding slowly, you swallowed tightly. “Thank you, John.” You repeated firmly before pulling open the door and heading inside to the utility room to fill a bucket with some water to rinse out the bloody cot.

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

Read Part Three

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @luminouslywriting, @softspeirs, @sunny747, @storysimp, @slowsweetlove, @httpsmoon, @buckysegan, @justheretoreadthxxs, @precious-little-scoundrel

[twistofstory]

Counting stars by OneRepublic

Illustration with young Stargazer, plus origins of her name~ Once again a long piece of text under the cut! It dwels into Stargazer's doubts about the future and her determination to live as a dragon she always wanted to be

There was a young nightwing dragoness, fleeing from her old life in the dead of night. She didn't really knew, where exactly she was going, but she most certainly didn't wanted to blow her chance for a better future. Family will do just fine without their rebellious “son”, who is not interested in the future they prepared for “him,” but friends... Big changes don't come without sacrifice, even if you have to leave behind the only dragons who believed in you and saw you for who you really was. She dreamed about this day most of her life, she couldn't have possibly made a mistake, throwing everything away... right? Oh no. ...What was she even thinking? She couldn't become a healer on her own. Where would she even learn? Is there any good healers in other kingdoms? She was fortunate enough to hatch into the smartest tribe of all, how she could possibly get a fine knowledge without them? She had a decent enough life with a foreseeable future, even if she hated it, and now she was, a disgrace, all alone somewhere on the continent - no friends, no stability and even no name! Well, last one wasn't that regrettable. She thought about changing it for a long time, it was stupid anyway and didn't fit her at all. Besides, new name would complicate the search, when her absence will eventually be noticed. She raised her head slowly, uncertain about her next steps, when she suddenly froze. Stars. Countless lights framed the dark sky, shining brighter than the silver scales under the wings of the most beautiful nightwing. During the long flight, she was too focused on her thoughts and the landscape below to notice the splendor spread out above, and now dragoness stood, soaking up the moonlight and the cool night air with every inch of her body. Somehow, she felt a sense of calm, as her doubts started to fade just a little bit. She would never saw the real stars if she stayed. What else awaits her beyond the ash-covered island? Besides, now she knows, how she wants to be called. 

Some backstory for the grumpy healer) Stargazer was a very ambitious dreamer in her youth, and even now, despite her feigned cynicism, deep down she remains the same, espetially sinse she became very confident and comfortable in her skin over the years. She hasn't visited either her family or her home island since leaving and does not plan to do so in the future, but she occasionally remembers her old friends, although she does not believe that she will ever meet them again - after all, several decades have passed.

Stargazer transitioned only socialy; I also had an idea that she was most likely training to sound more feminine (she experimented herself and learned from other transgender dragons/entertainers - before joining the Scavengers, she traveled a lot).

[sundeathh]

Aizawa’s sick day

One-shot | Masterlist

Pairing: Aizawa × Reader | Word count: 2,5k

Fandom: BNHA | MHA | Tags: fluffy, reverse comfort, home life, romance, SFW

CW: Sickness, of course (nothing too disturbing). Also: stable relationship, cheesy stuff, married couple dynamic, playful threats and teases. Readers' gender and appearance are not described, but there is a mention of reader being a "wife".

Notes: I've been working a lot lately, and I managed to get myself sick. I went to the EM two times now, and I just got some palliative medicine that didn't do much to the overall issue. I'm still sick. But I'm better than before and will be returning to work tomorrow (I can't afford absence anymore, unfortunately). But that's it.

I hate being sick, as real life doesn't pause to let me rest. So, to help me unwind for a little bit, I wrote this piece to take the focus off my sickness and to flutter my chest by pretending to take care of, at least, a fictional character. I hope you'll enjoy it. Sorry if there's any spelling; it is late, I'm sleepy, and my eyes are burning. Take care, love yall.

08:44 pm

"I'm home." The tired man called as he opened the door and took off his shoes. It has been a long day at work, and Shōta is more than exhausted. Slowly, he made his way down the hall to put the rest of his stuff away and grab a quick shower before dinner.

After taking note that you were not in the living room nor the kitchen, he reached your shared bedroom and pushed the door open, where he met with a smile that caused him to relax instantly after stepping inside.

"Oh! Hey, hun! Welcome back!" You greeted as you folded another piece of laundry, which was still warm from the dryer. Neat piles lined up on the king-sized bed.

"Hey." He replied quietly before walking over to you and pecking your lips. It had been rough lately, and every time he got home late from work, you noticed how increasingly tense he seemed as the days passed. 

"I thought you would be home early today." You commented. "Where were you? I was worried."

He sat on the bed next to where you stood, watching as you folded another shirt. Then, he sighed, rubbing his sore eyes as he rested his other hand on his knee.

"I was supposed to, but they needed me for a meeting and kept me late. Sorry I didn't text you." He explains, feeling a slight guilt sting in his chest as he glances at the clothes on the bed. You had to do his chores again. 

"I see." You respond quietly, with no resentment in your voice at all. "It's fine. But it is also late, so you should get ready for dinner." You instructed. 

Aizawa nodded and stood up before heading into the bathroom to shower, coming back moments later looking entirely drowsy.

"You look so exhausted." Your worried words pull Shōta from his sleepy state, the bed now looking pretty free from the clothes as you put the last pile into a drawer. "Didn't take proper care of yourself today, did you?" You questioned. "Did you eat anything besides applesauce?"

His eyebrows knitted together as he looked at you. You know he hates when you call him out like this. But you are right. Today was rough. "Yeah, yes, I know. Sorry. I promise I'll get better." His soft tone had you smiling. 

"No need to apologize, baby. I was just worried, that is all." You reassured as you walked toward him, snaking your arms around his waist and holding on tight, pulling him closer against your body. "You okay?" You asked quietly.

"Yeah." He nuzzled your neck. "Just tired." He explained, and you gently ran your hand up and down his back.

The two of you stayed embraced for a few seconds, pulling apart only after your stomach let out its demands, prompting you both to chuckle lightly. 

"Sorry, I have not eaten yet." You apologized before inviting him to the dining room, dragging his willing self by the hand.

As he followed behind, you heard him scolding you for your behavior. "I told you to stop waiting for me to have dinner when I do not get home until seven."

You rolled your eyes playfully as you turned the corner. "Sorry, I guess I forgot." You replied as you walked into the kitchen. "And besides, I did not have the appetite to eat alone anyway."

That earned you a soft laugh from the man who walked into the kitchen soon after you, helping you bring the food to the dining table afterward.

And, as you made yourselves comfortable, you two started eating. Small talk filled the air as you avoided both talking about work or the things that could be troubling your husband since dinner was not time for stress.

And this goes both ways, as Shōta knows that this small amount of time after he arrives is all he has with you since he needs to leave for work again before you even wake up the next day. 

Not long after, however, you can not help but notice how the dark circles under his eyes looked more purple than you ever saw, and his movements seemed a lot slower than what you were used to;

It worried you. Even though you know the hero and teaching work are naturally wearing, despite his tiredness, he always afforded to act, at least around you, not so worn out.

He had not been sleeping well recently, and you wanted to do something about it; but now was not the time, so you decided against mentioning it to him right now, as you knew it would bother him even further.

But he noticed you staring anyway, and his gaze drifted toward your lips, then back to your eyes. He raised a brow.

"Are you gonna finish those?" You asked, motioning to his half-eaten meal, which he absently turned over repetitively with his utensils. He shrugged. "Maybe later tonight?"

You nodded once in understanding and returned your attention to your plate. "Okay," you said.

He then went back into playing with his food in silence, which you did not mind. You know he was not hungry anymore but was making time to give you company as you finished your meal anyways. 

Once you finished, he rinsed the dishes while you dried them, setting them aside. Then, Shōta followed you back into the living room, where he plopped down on the couch.

Before long, you were cuddling together as something mindless passed on the TV screen. And, at some point during the movie, you began yawning, slowly lulling your head onto the shoulder of your partner, while his head would eventually fall forward as sleep threatened to grab hold of either of you.

So, reluctantly you sat up, stretching your back before turning to face Shōta. "Should we head to bed? Or do you want us to stay up here a while longer?" You asked, leaning in slightly, resting a hand on his leg.

He shook his head. "I think it's time for bed."

You nodded and stood up first, extending your hand toward him to help him stand up too. And, with his hand intertwined with yours, you led him back to the bedroom – where he went straight to lie on the bed.

After you were both settled, you wrapped an arm around his torso, nuzzling your head into his chest as he reciprocated the embrace, snuggling closer. Then, he placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

02:51 am

You woke up feeling hot. Well, hot enough for someone who does not bother regard to temperature. It is a bit unusual, and usually, you do not even realize the temperature change when asleep. 

You shifted in the grasp of your husband, turning over to your side as you tried, in vain, to cool down before realizing that the overheating you felt was radiating from the man you tangled with to sleep.

A frown immediately appeared on your face while moving your hand to place it over his forehead. Perhaps he was feverish?

Hmm, maybe. You could not tell for sure, but the skin felt a lot warmer to your touch. It did not feel right. So, carefully extracting yourself from the embrace, you walked to the closet and retrieved a thermometer, which you then returned and inserted into his mouth before sitting on the edge of the bed with him.

After a moment, the beeping of the device signaled that it finished testing; you watched as he started waking up a little after you took it out, his eyes fluttering open and landing upon the sight of you – sitting on the bed beside him, watching him cautiously. 

He blinked, slowly bringing his hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "Hey." He greeted, his voice hoarse. 

You gave him a gentle smile. "Hey." You replied, and he glanced back up at you.

"What are you doing?" He asks, squinting slightly in the darkness as if trying his best to decipher your features.

"Doing a little research." You responded. "Feeling alright? No headache?"

He furrowed his brows together. "No, why? Should I?"

You shake your head. "Probably not. But just making sure, you are running a fever, sweetheart."  You explained softly, reaching your hand out to grab his. "Come on, let us get you into a cool shower, and then you can rest a little longer, okay?"

He did not argue or question you, even though he seemed reluctant. Instead, he nodded and complied, rising from the bed, taking the offered hand, and following you into the bathroom.

While you reached the bathtub to turn the water on, Shōta quietly took his shirt off, discarding it into the hamper next to the sink. 

After you turned around, your gaze fell upon his toned muscles for half a second before landing on his face. His hair was sticking up every which way thanks to the ruffling from sleep, his bangs covering half his face and hiding the dark bags beneath his eyes. He looked exhausted as ever, yet also adorable somehow. However, the more you looked, the more you could tell he was getting sick. 

Sighing, you pulled your fingers through your hair, continuing to examine his appearance. You had never seen him sick, nor had you seen him look this exhausted in all the years you were together. 

Shōta turned around, noticing you observing his appearance, and raised an eyebrow. "What? Are you worried?" He questioned.

"Well, yes." You answered, still analyzing him.

His lips stretched into a faint smile as he approached you, cupping your cheek with his hand as he peered down at you, giving you an amused expression. "Why?" 

"You have been running yourself ragged lately." You answered, leaning into his palm. "And I never saw you sick before. I am worried because, especially now, you can not afford to be weak."

He sighed before pulling you close, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead, and placing one last soft kiss on the tip of your nose. "Don't worry. I promise I will be fine." He assured.

"Promise?" You repeated skeptically, staring deep into his eyes, and he chuckled. "Cross my heart."

"Mhm..." you hummed. "I will only believe that if you don't overexert yourself. If you keep worrying me like this, you will become bedridden sooner than you wish."

This time his chuckle was not quiet, and you could hear the whizzing in his chest. "Now, aren't you a good wife?" He teased.

You scoffed at that remark. "Of course I am. I am making sure you do not work yourself till you drop sick!" You retorted.

He gave you a smug grin. "Is that so?" He asked, tilting his head a little. "How mean."

You rolled your eyes in response before staring straight back at him. "But I am serious, Shōta."

"Then I will stop stressing myself and make a good impression on you." He declared, and his playful grin widened, making you chuckle. 

"Yeah, that is what I want. Now go wash off the sweat. I will fix you a cup of tea and bring it up. Alright?"

He smiled again, nodding. "Alright."

And as you made your way toward the kitchen, you wondered how you managed to fall for such a selfless bastard.

But you were not complaining.

03:12 am

Aizawa was still immersed in the bathtub when you returned with a glass in hand and medicine in the other. Then, after he emerged his hands from the water, you handed him one of each before leaning down to sit over your forelegs while resting your arms against the edge of the tub.

You watched as he gulped the medicine down with a generous sip of cold tea.

"How do you feel?" You quietly asked as he pulled the glass away from his lips. 

He merely gave you a small smile. "Not bad." He replied, his tone sounding slightly less hoarse now that he had drunk the tea. "I don't feel any different than usual. Just tired."

"Okay." You murmured, your eyebrows creasing together a little. "If it gets worse tomorrow, I will take you straight home from work, alright!?"

He nodded. "Okay."

"And I will ask Hizashi to check up on you since I know you won't tell me if it gets worse, after all."

He smirked a little at this, snickering. "That is true. But asking Mic to do that is not necessary." He paused, glancing at you before giving you a soft, small smile.

"Oh, yeah?" You asked.

Shōta nodded. "Yes. If it gets a lot worse, I will call you. I don't want to trouble any more people nor make you worry unnecessarily."

Your eyes softened at that. You know how Shōta hated burdening someone else, even though it would never feel like that to you. But he was willing to set his stubbornness aside for your sake. It flattered you a little, and you could not help but smile. 

"Okay, good... so, since you are telling me that, I will try not to worry too much then." You said. He returned your smile with a faint yet truthful one.

"Thank you, though."

"For what?" You inquired in curiosity. 

"Being so attentive like that." He said. "I appreciate it."

A faint blush formed on your cheeks as your eyes widened just a tiny bit. Then, the smile returned to your lips. "No problem, Sho. I care for you. And I love seeing you well."

His eyes softened at your words. "I know you do." He agreed quietly before opening his mouth to speak again but was cut short by a yawn escaping his lips.

"There you go again, falling asleep without meaning for it at all." You chuckled. Then, you reached forward and brushed the stray hairs from his forehead before letting your hand fall back onto the rim of the tub; while watching him intently for a moment. He smiled at you again. 

After a few moments of silence, his face finally showed some signs of discomfort, and you frowned slightly. "Are you uncomfortable? Do you need me t-"

"It’s fine." He insisted, cutting you off, before taking your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, effectively stopping you from finishing that sentence. "Just tired. It happens sometimes."

"Oh." You breathed, taking in what he said before sighing softly, slowly beginning to rise back to your feet. "Okay, then. I will grab some clean clothes for you now. Take your time resting up. If you need anything, ask me, alright?"

He smiled gratefully at you. "Okay, thanks, babe."

Your heart clenched at the sound of him saying those precious words; they meant everything to you. They always would. He knew how important they were; and how much you cherished them. 

Because, despite his cold surface, he never failed to make you feel loved and appreciated.

So you hoped you would never fail at that too.

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! Check the fixed post for requests.

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: Dino x fem!reader

Requested: no

Genre: angst, fluff

Warning(s): cheating, angst, sadness, mentions of pregnancy (do inform me if there's more)

Summary: You were the light guiding Chan for the most of his life. now that you are not there anymore, he cant help but feel your absence as he reminisces his past and all those times you were there to ground him no matter what.

Word count: 6k

Other works

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

special thanks to @spamgyu for helping me out 😭

a/n: I would greatly appreciate it if all of you could take a moment to comment on this fic. As an author, I find great value in your feedback, as it allows me to better comprehend my readers, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so don't hesitate to talk about this fic or send me an ask.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

Chan's life was determined before he had a chance to consider it. His family wasn't well-off. They struggled from early on to get food on their plates. He knew from when he was a child that he had to support his siblings because his parents refused to do so.

So that’s exactly what he did. He got into SNU with a full scholarship, secured a good job, and built a stable life with six figures coming in annually to his bank account, providing enough money to support his siblings’ dreams.

But what did it all get him?

Nothing!

He sacrificed his teens and his twenties because his father felt the need to be a raging alcoholic, and now he stands in the middle of Gangnam in his beautiful flat with its polished floors. But he lacks the most important thing in life: happiness.

To be truthful, he lacks a lot of things, but happiness takes the cake. If someone asks him, he lacks friends too. But our dearest Boo Seungkwan would like to disagree about that. In Chan’s defense, friends are absolutely not equal to friend (just a difference of ‘s’, as our dear ‘Kwanie’ said. Plus, his multiple personalities make up for the said lack of ’s’, which further raises the question as to why the man does not go for a checkup, as it seems he has self-diagnosed DID. We shall never know).

Chan is happy about his brothers doing what they like, though. It’s not that hard to not be happy when he literally raised them. Sacrifices need to be made, he has realized; some just make more than others, and there is nothing one can do about that. He accepts that he is indeed grateful for the friend he has made, the one who has stayed with him and accepted him as he is.

Now, it may sound sappy, and Chan swears he will never tell this to Seungkwan, but he has indeed helped him through the thick and thin of life. All those late-night drinking sessions and ugly crying have brought him to this stage in life where he thinks of the boy as more of a family than anyone else. He helped him when Chan’s life was falling apart, and he also was there to scold him back to the right track when no one believed in him, not even himself.

Although he lacks happiness, he is fine with that (he at least has Boo Seungkwan). He can live with being sad; he already has!

This is where you came in, the reason for Chan’s genuine smiles, from back in college to five years ago. It was a pretty serious relationship that you both had. Chan loved you. He had plans of making you his wife. For God’s sake, he was in a relationship with you for almost ten years! But somewhere along the way, he messed up. He became the exact thing he had hated all his life.

He became a person like his father.

You, being the nice kind, tried your best to stop him from spiraling down the rabbit hole of bad habits. But alas, it takes two to tango, and if he didn’t want to be better, no one, not even God himself, could do it for him.

It took losing you to realize how messed up his life had become.

--

“Chan, I’m heading out. Dinner’s in the fridge—please actually eat it this time. We don’t need two meal skippers in this household,” you quipped, watching as Chan chuckled and gave you a quick giggle inducing peck before returned his attention to the document he’d been typing for the past hour.

“Sure thing, Your Majesty. Your command shall be dutifully followed!” he exclaimed with a mock salute, drawing out another laugh from you. With a playful ruffle of his hair and another peck on his cheek, you left the apartment to begin your night shift at the hospital.

Chan, unlike you, has just started his new job after completing his MBA. It’s been tough, but he’s persevered, and soon enough, you both will be able to enjoy the luxuries he could only dream of growing up.

Your fifth anniversary is approaching faster than ever, and now Chan finally has the means to fulfill your dream of a trip to Europe. The pressure of this new job is more than the last one, but getting those tickets would be a walk in the park now.

Quickly finishing his document and mailing it to the head of the department, he immediately goes to check those flight ticket prices and hotel prices. He releases a happy sigh the minute he realizes that it’s exactly what he had expected the prices to be. So, without wasting a single moment, he buys those tickets. He knew this gift would make you happier than ever.

The next month, you had been notified about the expensive purchase only because you had to get a leave from your job, and you obviously can’t disappear for two weeks unannounced. He, in reality, had no plans to inform you about anything, but he couldn’t interfere with your job either.

But at the end it was worth it, the look on your face the minute you were informed about the trip. Oh, if only Chan could frame it and keep it away from the world, only if he could keep you near him and never let you go. But he didn’t think of that then. No, he was happy he had told you earlier.

The happiness radiating off you as you kept going on and on about the clothes you needed to buy, all the foods you were going to try once there. It was what helped him keep going throughout the day, even though the work became tiring with every passing minute.

If only he could have stopped time and lived in that moment forever.

—

One thing he never realized is how demanding his job would be once he got into a higher position. The calls kept him up at night; they came at the most ungodly of times, and Chan was expected to pick them up, because he always did.

You never complained; it was fine by you. If anyone understood him, it was you. Both of you had highly demanding jobs, and nothing could beat the expectations your colleagues had on you both.

But what he had not counted on was those calls interrupting your trip. During the entirety of your anniversary, he was glued to that phone of his, never once able to leave it. It was one problem at the office or the other.

Again, you kept your mouth shut, enjoying your own company as your boyfriend busied himself with work in the hotel room.

That was the last trip you both had gone on. You figured that it was too much to ask from someone who had so much work to do. But still, you understood his hunger to do better in life. You understood that someone had to compromise in the relationship and wholeheartedly accepted that it had to be you.

Coming to think of it, it was not supposed to be like this. Never! Both of you were supposed to communicate and figure out what your relationship was supposed to mean. But somewhere along the line, it just became regular sex and nothing else. When you talked about this with your friends, all of them had the same reaction.

‘Leave him!’ they had told you, ‘he wouldn’t change, he prefers his job more than you.’

It was a regular thing now. But you were scared. All the years you had invested in the relationship, you never wanted it to become what it had. You had held out hope that one day Chan would notice you. He would realize he had a girlfriend who also needs his attention as much as his job.

It didn’t take too long for those dreams to come true, though.

—

One night, you sat down with the man, asking him about the changes in his life. You begged him to look your way beyond the times he made love to you. It was an intense conversation, filled with words that neither of you actually meant, but hurt you both equally.

That night brought you both another few years, or that’s what you think. It became better, both your lives and the relationship. You both would talk more, spend time with each other, laugh with each other, and go about your days with lovesick smiles on your faces. Although none of your jobs became less hectic, it still was as painstaking as ever, but the scenery in your shared home was peaceful. It was both of your comfort zones.

What neither of you realized, this peace that you both had brought back into your lives, was fickle. In order to keep it like that, both of you had to put in some effort.

—

It slowly became visible to both of you how much more effort this relation of yours needed. Both of you saw the way your paradise was crumbling down bit by bit. Nights became lonely for you. Chan, being the perfectionist he is, would be stuck up in his office until the rays of sun hit the glass windows, reminding him of the fact that he indeed had stayed the night in his office. The hectic job took everything away from him. It stripped him of his identity, and slowly it was also stripping his happiness and sanity away. It was like the darker times had hit both of you again.

It was then that he suddenly passed out on the streets due to extreme fatigue and was brought immediately into the nearest hospital, which was the one you worked at. Lo and behold, you were the nurse on emergency room duty that day. This was the first time you saw the love of your life in that state; you saw what this new job had done to him. How it had taken this happy and healthy person you knew and turned him into this sick, unhappy, and overworked person. Your helplessness mocked you in your face. At night, you stayed by his side after the doctors had given their verdict about him being too overworked. You took care of him like never before, making sure to make him take an ample amount of rest.

Sadly, the industry is ruthless. As soon as the employers became aware that their once highly valuable employee’s usefulness had diminished, they ultimately opted to terminate him. Although Chan claims there were some more internal politics involved in this sacking, there was no way he could have evaded it.

Both of you soon realized it was the best thing that could have happened to him. While being the worst experience he could ever go through in his corporate career.

You stayed by his side through every hurdle though. You never once let him feel the need to be more than what he already was. But life was giving both of you a hard time.

It took Chan another month to get a new job. But only this time, it was a better, more important position in a better company. This is when life took off for both of you again. With Chan back on track, equipped with the newfound knowledge of not working more than necessary, he was on a roll. Almost unstoppable.

This change also affected your relationship, but positively this time. Chan and you would go on constant dates and enjoy each other’s company way more than ever.

—

It was nearing your seventh anniversary. Both of you had talked about getting married and starting a family enough times for him to know this was the perfect time for him to propose.

So, on the day of your seventh anniversary, he had planned to take you to this fancy Italian place. He claimed that you deserved only the best. No one could ever argue with him about that. You, along with Seungkwan, had been by his side for so long that he had forgotten the time when he didn’t have you both. Nothing, absolutely nothing, would change that fact. With that it brought him to the most important question of that year.

“But what ring do I buy her?” the stressed boy asked his best friend.

“Wow, I wasn’t informed about the fact that y/n suddenly had become my girlfriend!” Seungkwan exclaimed sassily.

“Dude, you can calm down. She is still my girl, ain’t no way you are getting her. Find a girl of your own,” the shorter boy retorted back.

Why am I being asked about her preference for a ring then, huh?”

“Because she said, and I quote, ‘if you buy me an expensive engagement ring that I can’t even wear out because it looks too expensive, I will castrate you’,” Chan said seriously, bringing out a seal-like laugh from the back of Seungkwan’s throat.

“Do something meaningful for her then, you dumb fuck,” making Chan almost cringe at the scolding. Without letting the boy talk, his best friend continued, “Put in some effort and do something that shows you care, without having to spend a copious amount of money. I have no idea what you should do, but bro, if it were up to me, a girl would for sure get a ring no matter what!”

Now, this made him think. It made him think hard. But even after all that thinking, he couldn’t come up with a good idea for an alternative for an engagement ring.

It was not until the next Saturday when he was sitting on the couch waiting for you to choose a movie for the weekly movie night, did he stumble upon the perfect idea for a ring? Like any usual person, the man was scrolling through TikTok when he found out that one could make rings out of clay.

Perfect!

If you didn’t want a diamond ring, you shall get a clay ring. For you might catch the sun lacking one day, but not Chan, never Chan!

—

This kick-started the learner phase of Chan’s life once again. He would visit the pottery classes every week because he needed to excel at the art to mold the perfect ring. One suitable for daily wear and also because this hobby brought him more peace than ever.

He made some friends here; they were fun to hang out with. You had met all these new people flooding into his life. He would parade about the with his hand on you showing you off proudly.

“Who wouldn’t?” he would ask whenever someone pointed it out. This question had the power to make him start ranting about you at any given point. So much so that after a point, people stopped asking him about you, no matter the context.

Because, oh boy, was he in love.

--

It took him one year and some friendships to finally complete learning everything there was to learn about pottery. In the course of that time, he had littered your shared house with his creations.

Oh, you wanted to buy a new bowl because you saw it on Instagram? No fear, Chan shall make it this instant. Oops, your favorite coffee mug broke? Chan has come to your rescue with a better, scientifically cute, usable, and overall better mug for you.

The creative spark of the boy never dimmed down, nor did his extroverted nature. Every other day, he would be out with his new friends, so much so that even Boo Seungkwan noticed. You both had chats with each other about the changes in Chan’s life over a cup of tea whenever Seungkwan would come over.

To say that you both were happy about him enjoying life would be an understatement. You had seen the pain the man had gone through in his life. It only made sense for him to have the best of the best experiences when he had the opportunities.

But again, as people say, one should do everything in moderation. It seems that Chan could do nothing in moderation. He would work himself half to death. In this case too, he started drinking and partying himself half to death. The outings that were done to unwind after a long hard day became parties that were making the day even longer.

The friends that helped him overcome the pressuring environment of his office became the ones who would pressure him to go way out of his comfort zone, all for the wrong reasons. People say twenties are times when people experiment with their life and gain new experiences.

The same was applicable for Chan too, the only difference being he was learning different ways of spiraling down holes that are hard to climb up from. The hilarious part being, these were the holes that he had carefully dug out himself.

It’s not like you never stopped him, because you did. The minute you realized these new friends were pushing Chan’s limits in the wrong way, you didn’t waste a second to tell him.

“I think you should calm down with this partying and stuff. It’s unbelievably bad for your health,” you had told him one night when he had come home drunk out of his wits.

“I know how to have fun, not my fault you don’t!”

The boy had shouted at you before collapsing on the couch. Realizing it was a waste of time to even try and talk to him in this state, you tried again the next day when he was far more sober.

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” you ask Chan, to which he shakes his still-hungover head and winces. Sighing, you continue, “Chan, you can’t let them get to you like this. Moderation is the key here. Please don’t overdo anything, I beg you!” You hugged him, trying to coax him to understand where you were coming from. He obviously hugged you back and promised you to keep your advice in mind the next time they asked him out.

He didn’t. He swears he tried to. But the peer pressure got to him. Before he could even back off, they had already hauled his ass to the bar. He never wanted to disappoint you. So he chose to accept the most coherent plan his drunk mind could formulate: the plan to lie to you.

—

Your seventh anniversary had come and gone a year ago. The only gifts he could provide you that day were a fancy dinner and a solid promise that he would indeed get you the greatest ring you will have ever seen in your whole life. Now the time had come. The time to prove his skills. Those skills he spent an entire year honing.

During this cute date at home, he produced a small wooden box from his pocket. After you had enjoyed the homemade meal he had whipped up for you and you both were cuddling on the balcony, he proposed to you with stars in his eyes and hope in his heart.

He shocked you with the ring. Like your relationship, it was delicate, yet made with lots of love and care. You obviously said yes without hesitation. After all, you loved this man, and he loved you too. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ever go wrong if he was with you.

--

It seems that no matter how hard you try, life always seems to have other plans for you.

The month right after you accepted his proposal, you received an invitation for a two-year-long workshop in Germany. Such opportunities don’t come every day, so you were elated.

Without wasting any time, you called Chan, informing him about the opportunity you had received. But like every coin, this great opportunity had its drawbacks too.

With the prospect of studying and learning under some of the greatest doctors and nurses came the hardship of leaving your fiancé behind. Chan didn’t like this one bit. He could barely stand to be away from you for a second, let alone two years.

But seeing the excitement on your face and hearing the joy in your voice, he couldn’t bring himself to ask you to stay back. He knew you had sacrificed a lot for him, compromised at times when you could have been happy if he hadn’t made decisions that ruined his life.

--

So he put on a happy smile and told you that if you didn’t take this opportunity, he would pack your bags himself and kick you out of the house. This assurance gave you the confidence you needed. Without wasting any time, you sent an email accepting the proposition to join the workshop.

The next five months passed in a whim. During this time, he had asked you to marry him before you went away, but with a peaceful and determined smile, you had told him, “I will marry you once I come back, like that, we won’t have to spend too much time as newlyweds. Plus, I will be smarter than you too.”

“You are always smarter than me. I can never surpass you,” was the answer you had received, along with a sweet kiss, making your heart swell like a balloon.

Life was starting to feel better again.

Chan had finally made his boundaries very clear. The boy felt extremely guilty for lying to you, though he never confessed to you about doing so. He made sure his actions proved his redemption. He ensured to let these new friends of his know that going out too much with them was affecting him in ways that he didn’t appreciate. Although they did sometimes win against him and force him to go out, it was not as bad as it was before.

—

Soon the day came when you had to fly away to Germany. To say that Chan was sad would be an understatement. He was devastated when he saw you off at the airport with Seungkwan. He had cried the whole way home, making Seungkwan scold him as if he were a baby.

“Now if you keep behaving like this, do you think she would be happy?” the older boy questioned him.

“No, but I miss her already,” Chan replied in a whisper while wiping his tears harshly.

“Be nice, be happy for her. You can talk to her all the time. It’s not the Stone Age,” Seungkwan said with an exasperated sigh, making the younger one stop his sad boy antics at once.

But it was not like Chan was okay. He started working overtime at the office, desperately waiting for you to call him when you got free. And call you did, religiously at six o’clock in the evening.

You both made the decision to talk at that time, regardless of any circumstances. This went on for six months. He tried his best to follow the routine of overworking himself before you would call and save him from killing himself with work.

But with all these works, his willpower also started to crumble down. The old ways came back to him. Before he realized it, he became a party animal. He made new friends at these clubs and bars he started frequenting. He thought you wouldn’t pick up. But you did. You saw how your boyfriend was slowly changing. It was not that obvious at first, but slowly you realized he was getting drowned with work.

Being the lovely girlfriend you were, you asked Seungkwan to take care of him. The boy tried his best to do so. But alas, he was not that successful.

It seemed to both of you that Chan had spiraled back into his overworking session. What you both were unaware of was that it was more than that.

Chan was not just overworking; he was over-drinking and over partying too.

—

One faithful night; he met Eva, his pottery class instructor. She was pretty. They talked the whole night, catching up like old buddies and having fun.

She brought a change to his life again. She started being there for him during times when he would lose himself. She was a great friend, so great that in no time you had the chance to meet her.

You had come back for a week’s vacation. Seungkwan thought it was important for all the friends to meet up because it had been a long time since he had seen you. This meeting was supposed to consist of only you, Chan, and Seungkwan. But Chan asked to bring in another friend he would like you to meet. It was Eva.

You liked her; she was nice. You wanted to be friends with her. Her sweet personality was something no one could resist, a great example of a sweetheart through and through.

For once, you were actually proud of your boyfriend’s choices in life. Your visit was over even before it had started. Suddenly, the week was over, and you were packing your bags to return to Germany.

This time, Chan was not as scared of things going downhill anymore. He knew that within a few more months, you would come back, and he could happily start the wedding preparations. He also knew he had a solid group of friends to have his back. Most importantly, he had learned the art of living without you. Not that it was happy, but now he could enjoy spending time by himself.

—

Time flew faster than ever. In no time, it was Chan’s birthday. Your program would finish that same month, so sadly you couldn’t visit him. All you could do was video call him that morning and congratulate him for hitting thirty before you, to which he grumpily replied, “Your birthday is in six months; I’m gonna make it hell for you.”

“Whatever, old man, get dressed. Don’t you have a job to go to?” You laughed at his grumpy face while teasing him even more.

“I miss you,” Chan suddenly called out, pouting.

“You will meet me next month, Channie. Don’t be this sad now.” Although that did make him happy, the thought of spending yet another birthday without you was saddening. But it’s not like it was going to last. You would be back in no time.

That thought put a smile on his face. Soon enough, he was skipping around the house cooking breakfast and answering numerous calls from his friends and family for being a thirty-year-old now.

Seungkwan and Eva had also planned a not-so-surprise party for him. It consisted of meeting in front of his office and dragging his ass to the bar to drink and have fun. Although the day was spent slaving away in front of the computer, that night he had a lot of fun. He talked to Seungkwan and Eva for hours, and the three of them were pretty intoxicated when they left.

The only thing he remembered from that night was the fact that Eva, being the one out of the three with the most alcohol tolerance, was the one who had made sure that all of them returned home safely.

There was just one slight problem. Eva started to avoid him. Now, in any other situation, he would not have noticed it, but the text the next morning asking him if he remembered anything from the night before had him confused. When he asked her what it was all about, she refused to answer him, opting to ignore him instead.

He had no recollection of the night before, and Seungkwan didn’t either, so it was a mystery to both of them. But then again, his gut told him the problem was bigger than what he thought it was and might come to haunt him if not solved now.

So he did the most sane thing he could think of: He asked her to talk to him about it. He knew the wedding preparations would start the minute you came back, so he wanted to make sure to fix any problem that might affect you both before it blasted out of proportion.

—

“You kissed me,” was the first thing Eva told him after sitting down, making Chan’s heart drop to his stomach.

“Huh, but I don’t remember anything,” Chan retorted.

“It’s not about you remembering or not, it really happened, Chan, and I hate it,” she said, her voice almost breaking.

“Hey, calm down. We were both intoxicated, and we didn’t do it on purpose. Any other time and we wouldn’t have done it,” this seemed to have little to no effect on improving the girl’s mood.

On the other hand, Chan’s blood pressure was rising. The last thing he needed was a big mistake from which he could never turn back. With you coming back from Germany in less than a week, he needed everything in his life to be sorted out, especially something that could jeopardize a relationship with so much love in it.

“Chan, I think I like you. I’m not sure when it happened, or how it did. But I like you. So please don’t tell me I wouldn’t have done it if we weren’t intoxicated.”

The impact of this statement was so immense that it completely shattered his world, leaving him in disarray. It was true that he liked Eva. What kind of feelings he actually held for her was a mystery to him.

So, in the spur of the moment, he kissed her.

Just a few minutes ago, it was bothering him, but once he took the step, he didn’t feel what he was supposed to. He didn’t feel the disgust and hatred towards himself he should have. It felt like sneaking out of his house when he was not supposed to. It made a rush of excitement run through his body. He could feel the adrenaline rush through him.

He felt alive. maybe it was the feeling of doing something forbidden or it was something else, he didn’t know.

But, that night, they did more than kissing.

—

Once you were back, it was all sunshine and rainbows in the first few weeks. You both were happy, spending all your time together and having fun relishing in each other’s presence.

But it didn’t take you long to notice the changes. He would be stuck late at the office but come back home surprisingly lively, or those random texts from his brother late at night asking him to come over, or even the most obvious of them all, the vibrant smell of floral perfume that you never wear.

But you held out. You had promised to give him a chance to explain himself if he came clean to you. But that day never came. You asked him about these odd behaviors, but somehow he would always evade the topic altogether.

All those questions of ‘where were you last night’, ‘when will you come home’, or ‘shall we go on a date sometime soon’, all went unanswered.

He outright ignored your presence at home. But this didn’t stop the wedding preparations. Because his siblings and your parents alike loved him, they had taken the responsibility to take care of the wedding plans.

Before he could continue with his little escapades, Seungkwan caught and confronted him. Not by you but by Seungkwan. The older boy’s disappointment was beyond words. He screamed at him for an hour straight and then he had sat Chan down and calmly said,

“Either you tell her or I will.”

“But I can’t; she will leave me if I ever tell her.”

“Then she will be right in doing so.”

“Chan, I love you to death, but either you stop this and tell your girlfriend the whole truth, or I will take matters into my own hands. She has put up with enough of your shit. Don’t hurt her more,” he had said.

“Give me some time; I will do it as soon as possible,” the younger one had strained out, fisting his hair.

“She better know about it all before the wedding,” Seungkwan had warned him before seeing himself out.

—

Chan had cut off Eva after that. He tried to change everything before actually marrying you. Then, being the kind person you are, you tried to understand your boyfriend. You really did. But this was the first time in ten years you considered leaving him.

This relationship didn’t make you happy anymore. But you had gone through so many troubles together. The effort to hold each other upright was taking a toll on you.

But you were a fighter. You had fought many battles with him by your side. You couldn’t give up on those years either. Your internal dilemma was killing you. But all of this came to a halt one day when you had come back from your night shift, only to find your boyfriend and the girl he oh so diligently claimed to be his good friend, talking in the living room.

It was not like they were trying to be quiet because you could hear every single word spoken by them.

“Chan, it’s yours.”

“Eva, I have a fiancé. I will never leave her. I already told you, I love her.”

“Oh, so you didn’t think about that before fucking me”

“It was a mistake”, Chan shouted.

“No, it wasn’t, we both were very sober”, came another shout

The conversation hit you like a truck, and with each sentence, you felt your heart shattering. The decision suddenly seemed a bit too easy to make.

You walked out of the chaos, leaving the ring behind on the shoe rack. That night, you stayed at your friend’s place.

Following that event, you called Seungkwan, informing him that you won’t talk to Chan anymore. He simply asked if you wanted any help moving out, to which you answered with a simple no.

That was the end of the relationship for you. You refused to talk or see Chan ever again.

—

Now, five years later, Chan is to be married again. Not with you; no, he missed his chance. It's with Eva. They figured the best way to raise Minhan was to be together. In a county like theirs, it wasn’t the best idea to raise a kid with two unmarried parents.

Chan loved Minhan to death. But he could never show the same love for Eva. Looking at her reminded him of the mistakes he made in life. It reminded him of the happiness he could have attained, but he lost due to his own faults.

He is happy Seungkwan is still beside him. He knows he doesn’t deserve a friend like him, so the fact that Seungkwan stayed beside him makes him feel grateful.

He knew that his wife and child would move in with him soon, but he didn’t have the courage to let them into the house yet. The house that held both your memories was a bit too precious to let go of so easily.

The next day came faster than he anticipated. As Chan stood there waiting for his bride, he saw a face that he had been longing to see for the last five years.

He saw your face, sitting there on the benches, a sad smile adorning your face. Your eyes filled with emotions and stories of the years you had spent together.

Oh, how badly Chan wanted to abandon everything and run to you. Apologize a hundred times and ask you to take him back. But he couldn’t; he had children to take care of and shoes to fill.

As he stood there saying his vows, hoping it’s you he saw walking down the aisle and it’s you he kissed, but they are called dreams for a reason. And not all dreams come true.

As he kissed his bride, he saw a glimpse of your teary eyes amongst the crowd, and a tear of his own fell. Wishing for a future he was never destined to have.

the end

[low-budget-korra]

Comments on Netflix's Avatar The Last Airbender

*spoiler alert*

First of all I'm gonna start by saying it is one of the best adaptations I've seen so far. And that's the key word, adaptation. I've seen a lot of fans and others complain about some things that honestly, doesn't make sense because some things only work in a cartoon(just as much as some things only work in a book or a video game)

And before I start to talk about some topics that I judge important, I also wanna say that the production is fantastic, from the costumes to the CGI. It all looks amazing. (A part from Yue's wig)

1. The Script

It's not easy to pick 20+ episodes and make it fit in only 8 but damn they did a hell of a good job, especially when judging what was important to show and what they could let it go. Some fans commented that since there's no fillers, the Gaang and others miss some development but I think that for the universe of the live action what we got here it worked.

I can express how much I like to see Ozai and Azula's relationship and how it is now clear that he uses the siblings against each other, manipulating them to get what he wants. But I will admit I miss the fear Azula had, since it's implied in the show and some extras that she does fear Ozai, and fears becoming like Zuko.

I hope the 41. Is just fine after the battle in the north. See all of them bowing to Zuko after discovering that Zuko was the one that saved their asses and was heavily punished by that...it was beautiful. I loved the writers did that, give names and faces to Zuko's crew and a beautiful yet sad arc when Ozai banished his son and the men who he saved.

I also loved that they put weight into things that was treated as a joke, like Katara talking about her mother. She was a little kid who saw her mom get murdered in front of her and the live action made sure to let us know that it is not okay to make jokes about something so traumatic. All of the deaths here have tons of weight in it, it's not some random person, is someone we met, someone we liked, someone who helped. The costs of the war, something the cartoon manages to show us but know in live action, with real people, the massage gets stronger.

And they didn't forget Iroh's past like the fandom does, which is great. That actor, the earthbending soldier really let it all out, that's how you use the few screentime you have.

Sokka's isn't sexist and y'all were making a storm outta a cup of water, is not like Sokka sexist didn't go away after like the 4 or 5 episode in the original show. I think the live action was able to bring more depth to him in comparison to the first season of the cartoon. We see how he feels about his father's, the absence of him and his duty as warrior who kinda doesn't want to be a warrior.

I need a Gyatso in my life, I didn't know I needed to see more of him until the live action gave us more of him. Kyoshi was the Thor coming to Wakanda from this season, WHY THE FUCK BRYKE DONT WANNA GIVE US A KYOSHI SERIES? She is absolutely a jewel of a character. Roku and Kuruk, damn poor Kuruk man, so much pain in his words but again that's what it means to be the Avatar, it's not fun and games. Zhao saying to Aang what Korra villains said to Korra😭 that the world doesn't need the Avatar anymore, it hurt.

Guys I'm gonna say it, there's no way in hell for anyone to ship Kataang here. I'm saying this because some shippers complain that the secret tunnel part was different but c'mon, look at Kiawentiio and look at Gordon, it would be so s awkward and weird and just wrong. I know they don't have a big age difference, is only like 3 years but when they filmed Gordon looked so much younger than her, maybe in the next seasons the difference won't be that big.

The pace is good, once you start you don't wanna stop.

2. The Acting

Everyone is really good at capturing the essence of it's characters and somewhat making them their own. The highlights for me were Dallas and Ian, Its like they came straight from the show. Ken Leung's Zhao was also amazing as he was way more threatening here than he was in the show.

Kiawentiio was the Katara we were looking for, she is kind yet strong, brave and caring. And Gordon was Aang, sure, he has to learn a few things since he slipped a few times in his acting but nothing that could ruin the experience, that kid is good and just needs some experience.

Elizabeth Yu was Azula. It was different but yet the same character, is like learning something new of her and I like how cleared she show emotions with her eyes. Maria Zhang had great chemistry with Ian and I can't wait to see more of Suki. Arden Cho and Yvonne Chapman as June and Avatar Kyoshi look like they came out straight from the cartoon. Daniel Dae Kim...man is Ozai, so cold, so sharp, so scary, already way better than the cartoon version. I wanna see more of Paul Sun-Hyung Lee as Iroh since the character he really starts to shine in book 2.

3. The live action doesn't have the spirit of the OG?

Yes, it does have. The thing is now that we are seeing real people, things get dark one way or another but I don't think it ruined the spirit of the show. Aang is still a kid, Sokka still making sarcastic jokes, Zuko still annoying as hell, Katara still hopeful and strong... There's everything there really.

The thing is stuff like genocide, murder, war, death and suffering are, for some people, better to watch as pixels in a cartoon than real people.

I think it's a great adaptation and I would recommend it to every fan.

[eqt-95]

a new kind of romance, pt 8

part 7 | mistletoe magic - - - - -

🎆 | new years

Kara was late.

She was more than late.

Maybe that’s why she took the long way back to National City; first cutting down the Appalachian before soaring over the long expanse of Texas then diverting toward the Grand Canyon and finally getting lost over the Rockies.

Hours had passed. Too many, by Kara’s calculations. Even before her detour, midnight had come and gone. Fireworks rang in a new chapter and exploded in bright, bursting colors overhead as a taunting reminder. Because Supergirl didn’t have time for things like new beginnings no matter how much Kara Danvers wanted it. 

Because Kara was late.

She was more than late.

Now instead of fireworks, the expanse of darkness was broken by glistening stars in a cloudless sky. The silence was broken by the moaning of snowy mountains and the raging of rushing waters and the howling of winds, but that orchestra of sounds did nothing to distract from the thoughts rattling in her own mind.

Thoughts that hadn’t quieted for nearly two weeks.

It was in this state of unchanged unsettledness that she resigned herself toward the skyline she called home; a home where parties had ended and resolutions were made and the chance of a midnight kiss had passed.

Because Kara was late.

She was more than late.

Maybe that was why she lingered high above the city’s tallest penthouse littered with forgotten balloons, confetti, empty champagne bottles, and champagne problems. Because how could Kara hold it against the innocent lives caught in a burning building for the heartbreak her life was on the cusp of?

She watched a lone silhouette weave around the couch and chairs, stacking plates and collecting flutes. And oh how that silhouette looked stunning, dressed down into a familiar sweatshirt with cuffs bunched at the wrists and a stark contrast to the gown Kara knew Lena was wearing at the strike of midnight.

Because Kara was late.

She was more than late.

“Here, let me get these.”

Maybe it was the guilt and regret and ache to undo the last three hours of absence that made Kara miss the second silhouette and the second heartbeat and the way the first silhouette gave in to the offered help.

Plates were stacked in companionable silence until surfaces were cleared and the memory of an evening Kara had no memory of vanished, leaving only Lena and Andrea.

Maybe it was the denial and blind hope and arrogance that she still had a chance that made Kara miss the soft music playing through the penthouse and the way Andrea’s hips swayed to the tempo and the way she stepped into Lena’s personal space and the way she led her into the open area still littered with forgotten bits of glitter and color and spun her round and round and made Lena’s somber expression break into a gentle smile and sent a pair of hands that were not Kara’s securely around her waist.

But there Andrea was, standing in for a role Kara wanted to play.

“Any New Year’s resolutions?” Andrea asked mid-spin, and it made Kara’s chest ache.

“You know I don’t.”

Andrea hummed thoughtfully. “I guess hoping and resolutions are different.”

“That isn’t…” Lena began, halting mid-step and posture stiffening. “It’s different, Andy.”

And for a moment Kara found her own hope again in the way Lena stepped backward. It was shattered when Andrea followed.

“I know, I know,” Andrea replied, and the softness felt real - just as real as the way her hands tugged Lena back into her space. “That was tactless.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Andrea said, a hand rising to cup Lena’s downturned face, “and I’m sorry. I just worry.”

“There’s no need.”

“Isn’t there?”

“Andy-”

“You can’t hold your breath forever,” Andrea whispered in a way that would feel intimate to Lena but was a megaphone in Kara’s ears. 

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

And Lena didn’t deny it this time with words. She confessed it with a broken sob. An exhale.

Kara was late.

She was more than late.

- - - - - - part 9 | dumplings

[thelampisaflashlight]

You Are A Haunted House

[Don't you just hate it when your boss places a curse upon you post mortem? Or, what happens when Bea gets promoted Sister Imperator. Feat. Mountain and Rain.] Below the cut.

There is a notion that all old buildings are haunted; That the creaks and groans are not that of the ancient wood settling, nails squeaking as it expands and contracts with the seasons, but rather the forlorn groans of those long since passed.

Whether these ghosts are real or the conjuration of of an excitable mind is left up in the air, no one has indisputable proof of life after death, and yet, so many hold to superstition, even if they are not wholly aware of it.

Those who hold onto traditions passed down through the generations, despite their original purpose being lost in the relative comforts of modern living.

Few have to worry about wayward spirits leading them astray in the forest, nor need to fear that the creature they are viewing prancing about the meadow is not really a deer, but we as human beings know almost instinctually when something is not as it seems.

And in those moments, even the faithless turn to God.

Beatrix Milne, however, turns to Mountain.

"It's fuckin' creepy is what it is."

Before the pair stands the ruins of the former "Little Chapel" -it never had a proper name before, always referred to as either the small or little chapel- that sits a ways into the forest surrounding the abbey's grounds.

Despite only amounting to a singular room with no roof or even a door to speak of, Bea finds the structure... ominous and dark, though not the sort of darkness she's grown accustomed to working around the abbey.

The forest is still here, and while Bea may not know much about the natural world beyond what is necessary to do her job, she knows this stillness, this deep, unsettling quiet, is not normal.

Mountain, too, is silent as he takes in the wreckage.

"...You think it's haunted?" Bea laughs nervously, trying to bring a little light to the situation, but the ghoul gives her a look that has her stepping just a smidge closer into the safety of his towering form.

"For such a brash young woman, you certainly frighten easily, Miss. Milne." Mountain chuckles, offering her his hand as he walks towards the burnt out building, dry leaves crunching under his cloven hooves, "Not all places touched by man are left with an impression of them."

"There are no ill memories in this place, save for that of its end."

Bea follows the ghoul through the narrow threshold, her boots finding stone where she thought she might hear the soft squeak of weathered boards or damp soil.

The interior of the building is not in much better shape than the exterior; Though, Bea supposes, this may still count as being outside, given the lack of protection from the elements.

A cold drop of rain water manages to make its way down through the dense canopy and lands directly in the space made by the hood of her jacket and her bare neck, causing her to yelp, and the earth giant to snort.

"Fuckin' cold!" she hisses, shaking her shoulders as she feels the water trickle down her back, "Remind me why we're out here again??"

"A bit of water isn't the end of the world." Mountain smirks, earning a harrumph from the small woman, "In order to properly care of the grounds in my absence-"

Bea narrows her eyes at him.

"-Which I know you're already doing just fine-" he adds quickly to avoid starting an argument, "You need to be more acquainted with the parts of the property that you weren't allowed to visit before."

"Now that Sister Imperator has..." he inhales deeply, "...gone to see the father... It has fallen to Papa... Frater Imperator to decide how the staff will manage things in her absence."

"...I don't know whether I'm being promoted or being set up right now, Mountain." Bea says after a moment of quiet contemplation, "Sister Imperator forbade me from coming out this way for the sake of my personal safety, I don't think Copia changing his title means I am any safer here now than I was before..."

"It's true that parts of the grounds are more dangerous than others, and that this place is no exception, but if you want to stay-"

"-I do." she interrupts, then frets, "I-Is that old man thinking of kicking me out??"

Mountain stiffens, "I, well... He..."

"Does he think I'm not capable of doing my job??"

"No, but-"

"Mountain, I can't lose this fucking job." Bea pleads, grabbing hold of the front of Mountain's shirt, "I can't fucking go back to-"

"Bea." Mountain grabs her shoulders, "I am doing this so you don't have to worry about that."

"...What... What are you going to do?" she asks, feeling the air around her grow cold, "Mountain, what is this? Mountain, I'm scared-"

"Just close your eyes and it will all be over soon..." he whispers, moving his hand up to cup her face, "...Just..."

"-Wake up already!"

Bea bolts upright in bed, her eyes searching the dark expanse of her bedroom, coughing a little as she groans and falls back down onto the mattress, cringing when she's met by the pool of sweat that had gathered beneath her in her sleep.

"Fuck..." she wheezes out, "That was a fucking stupid nightmare..."

She coughs again, pulling herself upright and kicking her feet over the side of the bed, "Water..."

Wandering over to the sink, Bea turns on the tap and runs it for a short while until the water turns cold, rinsing out the mug she used for her tea earlier before filling it up.

She stares out the window as she drinks, eyes trained on the lake beyond her garden gate.

Slightly obscured by the waves rolling over the water from, Bea can see the shine of Rain's scales growing beneath the surface, and stares quietly as the ghoul slithers about in his beastly form.

It's an oddly soothing sight for what it is; A monster, impossibly large and frightening making its presence known to her, because he somehow always knows when she's awake... but Bea will take comfort where she can find it.

Lately -at least since Sister Imperator's passing- Bea's been feeling... out of sorts.

She has to wonder if the spell the older woman had cast upon her were beginning to fade now that she was gone.

Bea thinks of her nightmare, and the many more that came before it.

Oddly specific, always featuring Mountain, always ending in... not quite death but something akin to it.

She's not sure how to describe the sensation.

With a spluttering cough, she is brought back to the present, having inhaled a bit of her water trying not to spit out the contents in her mouth, but unable to swallow.

She stands over the sink hacking and wheezing for a solid minute before she manages to get her lungs to cooperate with her, again.

She swallows and goes to pour the rest of her drink down the drain, when she notices a splattering of dark liquid standing out against the metal; Acrid and watery, so dark it almost seems black until she pushes herself away from the counter and her shadow moves, revealing the rosy red hue of it.

Blood.

She brings a hand to her lips, feeling it stick to her thumb as she tries to wipe her mouth clean.

It's not... She's not...

What is this?

Why is this...

Why is this happening?

And then suddenly...

"Mountain?" she calls out weakly, looking towards the door, and she can almost see him in her head, hand poised to knock, now frozen in confusion.

"...How did you...?"

And then she can see him.

As if she's standing on the porch beside him, like she's outside, she can even feel the night air on her overwarm skin, and-

"...Mount, I think I'm gonna throw up..."

[midnightsun-if]

the reactions of the ros to the scenario of mc forgetting to smooch them were so good, all of them ugh <3 Sloane had me laughing the most to myself... they're so dramatic and sulky PLS LMAO the wet dog energy is so real, Sloane deserves all the smooches in the world.

If you could, would it be possible for you to give us the reactions of the ros that didn't take the initiate to get their smooch if mc suddenly barged in the room minutes later to kiss them and be like "I almost forgot, have a good day <3" before leaving once more.

We need justice for Sloane, C and Caden especially ("the absence of your presence, of the kiss that you always bestowed onto them, more stifling than they’d ever believed it could be" was beautifully written but it had me sad AAAA)

Sloane absolutely does have wet dog energy. They’re an angry individual because of various things that’ve happened to them, and it being one of the only ways they were able to express themself, but they always predominantly get more angry at themself than they do other people. It’s something that’ll they will try to work on and slowly begin to cope with— a journey that I’m excited to start.

Follow up to this ask.

Koda:

At the smile you offer him return, a weight is lifted from his chest. He wasn’t sure if his return kiss plan would work out, even his most simplest of plans never did, but the sight of your joy more than made up for all his failures in the past.

“Thank you, Koda.” In return you press a brief kiss to his lips, warmed by his unceasing care for you. “I appreciate it. I’m sorry that I forgot, I’m just running late in meeting Blake.”

Koda beams down at you, nose nuzzling against yours. “That’s alright, Anon. It just means I’ll have to kiss you more every time you forget.”

Scarlett:

At your continued silence, a saccharine smile flits across her lips, emerald eyes flashing merrily in a way that’d spell for trouble for anyone that wasn’t you. With natural born grace, Scarlett easily maneuvers to her feet to make her way closer to you. “Playing coy now, sweet thing?” She tsks, brow furrowed disapprovingly. “Tell me, my beloved, what did you forget that’s so important.”

Your head tilts, eyes watching the subtle movements of her body. “Your kiss?”

Scarlett hums. “And I had such fun things planned for later.” Taking your chin between two fingers, the phantom press of her lips against yours being all that’s offered before she vanishes from your presence altogether. You’re only able to blink owlishly, the sight of your girlfriend once again reclined elegantly, being all that fills your vision. “Run along now, my beloved. You clearly have a busy day to get to, I won’t keep you any longer. Though, make no mistake, tonight you’re mine.”

Cyrus/Cyra:

Looking at the facts, as it turned out, didn’t help in the slightest, not when their feelings for you were so astronomically out of the realm of possibility, something that could never truly be understood or properly identified due to how large it was. They tried to hold onto the simple fact that it hadn’t happened with malicious intent, that everyone was allowed an off day, but that didn’t stop their inner self, their Phoenix, from squawking in protest at not being able to feel their mate.

So when you return, slightly out of breath, they try to pretend like everything’s fine, that their heart hadn’t leapt at the sight of your return, but they couldn’t deny that their inner flame roared back to life at the feel of your lips pressed to theirs; the whispered apology you offer once pulling back being lost in the white noise it causes.

Their reaction may not have been within the realm of reason, at least not when it comes to their usual ones, but when had love ever been?

Quinn:

They huff to themself, looking back down at their haul. It had been a surprise they wanted to gift to you, knowing how stressed you had been with your exams coming up, even fighting down the urge to gag when they bought fresh blood suckers, because you needed something to settle yourself with.

“Oh well,” they mutter, shoulders slightly slumped. “I’ll just put these in their room and hope they’ll be back to enjoy them soon.”

As if summoning you with their mind, you’re suddenly right in front of them, bringing an immediate smile to their lips, before your own cover them. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing another fleeting kiss to their lips. “I’ve been in such a hurry I forgot to give you this.”

The arm around your waist tightens. “It’s well worth the wait.”

Caden:

Like a beacon of light and warmth, you suddenly reappear once more, fighting against the darkness, and the coldness it brings, as you come closer. The apologetic look on your face tells them all they need to know as why you returned and, for the briefest of moments, they feel guilt well within their gut. Had you somehow understood their mood? Were you going to be late now because of them? They’d never wish for you to get in trouble because of them.

However, the moment your lips press gently to their own, those thoughts and feelings slip from their mind completely, only being able to focus on you. At the feeling of completion they now felt slotting into place within their unbeating heart— a feeling that almost made them feel like they were alive once more.

Sloane:

“I completely spaced,” you say, rushing back into the room towards Sloane, eyes wide in apology. “I was in such a rush I forgot to give you a kiss.”

Sloane, for their part, is completely floored that you remembered, that you’d care enough to turn back and rectify a wrong that shouldn’t even be as big of a deal that it was. Of course they would. I’m important to them, it wasn’t done maliciously, you overgrown fur-bag. They barely respond when you place a delicate kiss to their lips, still too embroiled in their thoughts, but their arms flex instinctively when you try to pull away. Just wanting to hold you for a second longer. And, for the moment, they’re able to forget the demons that lurk in the shadows of their mind, not think about them, when in the face of your beautiful light.

Blake:

“I actually forgot to give you a kiss?”

The apologetic look and tone brings a tender smile to Blake’s lips, one finger gently running a path down your cheek. “A mistake I was certain was just that. I mean look at me.” They playfully wriggle their brows, tongue peeking out from between their teeth. “How could you not want to kiss this?”

At your playful eye roll, and exasperated huff, a weight is lifted from their shoulders, even if they’d never showcase it. Good, they think. I don’t like it when you’re sad, and you wouldn’t be. Not if I ever have anything to say about.

Reginald/Regina:

“I’m so sorry.”

Your sudden reappearance near them, after the relative silence that had settled over the dorm, almost causes them to fling their book into the air, a surprised yelp just barely stifled in the back of their throat. At your apologetic gaze, they’re suddenly reminded of what exactly had been forgotten— by the both of you it seems. And, due to that, they lean forward just as you do. Trying to, without words, show how sorry they were for forgetting something so important, something that made them feel a bit more at home in a world that wanted to be anything but.

Something that finally made them feel like they belonged.

[swampstew]

Trafalgar Law, B-6 ~ Master/Servant

Summary: Part 3 to Trafalgar Law as a Fylgja: A supernatural being associated with fate, usually an omen of one’s impending doom, who can shapeshift - his favorite form is a Snow Leopard. You're his new little pet and this a little treat on how your life with Law would be.

Part 1 | Part 2 Author's note: This needs to the final part for Fylgja Law, I'm exorcising him from my brain space and back into the friendzone where he belongs (for me, Raven, personally.)

Warnings: Spicy, pet play kink, master/servant relationship, Monster Law, hybrid Law/leopard form. Adding dead dove in case people take issue with monster fucking/hybrid fucking or whatever. Word Count: 643

Law is quick to bring you into his home. He doesn’t mind you keeping the apartment if you want, but he wants you around at all times when he has the time to be home. Being a Fylgja and moonlighting as a surgeon means he seldom has down time. Any time he does, he wants to spend it with you.

When he’s gone, you do whatever you want to entertain yourself in his absence. You won’t need to work because his pay is phenomenal, but if you do its fine by him – so long as you wear a token of his ownership on you. A stunning golden choker with a dangling crystal heart charm. Never take it off unless you want to be in the doghouse.

You take care of his place when you’re under that roof, not because he expects you to but you do it anyways, and you always wear your cat ears – that’s the only rule. Your real catsuit only comes out whenever its play time. He loves shopping for you too, absolutely adores seeing you wear the outfits he buys.

He always starts by having you change into your ‘house’ outfit, the same outfit he gifted you that first day he made you his pet. He washes your hands and feet, drying them with a soft towel before slipping your gloves and socks on. He slips on your panties and bra and you admire the way he restrains himself when his eyes eat you up with a predatory gaze. If you give him a teasing look he’ll flick your cat ear and give your ass a slap. Law looks ravenous by the time he clips on your collar. Before he can indulge – can’t forget your tail plug.

Law will make you purr, hiss, mewl, and downright yowl with what he knows about the human body. He wasn’t an expert at first but when he figured out your cues he was on them like a hound. Loves taking care of his Kitten, in every single way. He saved you and now you’re all his so he wants to spoil and protect you.

He’ll fuck you however you want. Human form, hybrid form – he’s game for anything, he’ll make sure to never hurt you and heavily enforces safe words and check-ins to make sure you’re not lying to him or yourself about being in situations you may not enjoy. Enjoys watching you in the mirror, alone, with him, him making you pleasure yourself, he just loves watching you and watching himself fuck into you. It releases a deep growling that normally doesn’t come out during any other times you are together.

If you’ve ever in your life thought – I wish I could quit everything and become someone’s pet, Law’s the guy you want to be adopted by.

Also: the King of Aftercare. He knows that he’s rough sometimes, especially when he’s shapeshifted (oh yeah, he’ll appeal to your appetite if you want a different breed of cat. Or marine animal), so he performs medical care under the guise of aftercare but honestly you don’t mind it much. He disguises his prodding for discomfort as massaging your muscles, ‘stretching you for the next round’ to make sure nothing is broken or sprained, applies several kisses to remedy any scratches or bite, and teases you with playful snatching of comfort items to check for concussions or brain damage. He’s a natural worrier.

But then – the snacks he brings, taking charge of clean up, the vibe he sets to just hang out with you in post-sex comfort, making you laugh and feel cherished as he feeds you little bites and just talks with you. He might treat you like a plaything, a pet, but make no mistake, you’re his little house cat. He’s in it for life. Well, the rest of your life anyway.

13 tiles to go, 37 calls made so far.

[popatochisssp]

I would like more details on ocean boys plz. More Descendtale for us?

Descendtale

A human falls to the Underground.

They’re merciful…mostly.

But maybe not merciful enough.

They make friends with many monsters on their way through the Underground.

They kill some others.

Nobody important, none of the real friends they’d made along the way—just a handful of annoying ones who kept getting in their way, surprising them with Encounters when they were busy on their very important quest to escape the Underground and go back home.

When they leave, they put their fun fantasy adventure behind them, eager to get back to their real life.

They never come back.

The monster ‘friends’ they left behind do their best to move on.

Asgore is gone, and so are the six human souls they’d collected, so close to finally being free.

Toriel has returned, which is something, a comfort of familiarity at least to have a ruler who knows what she’s doing when hope is falling and…other things are starting to go wrong.

The Royal Guard has been disbanded, what with the queen’s mandate that humans falling down should be welcomed as friends. Which is fine, most of them all knew the most recent human as a friend, but…it does leave quite a few dogs and a fish and a few other animals out of a job and consequently, out of a driving purpose in their lives.

A handful of monsters have also gone missing. Not Fallen Down, or moved away, just…gone, without a word or a call or a note. No one really knows what happened, though there’s theories, nobody seems to know anything for sure and the unsubstantiated rumors, ranging from wild to tame, are a little bit scary.

And…the Underground’s resources are dwindling. They have been for a long time, but some of those monsters that disappeared—farmers, couriers, suppliers—their absence has unbalanced the food supply chain just a little more, and what they do have is taking longer to get to the populated areas, costing more, creating uncertainty.

In essence, monsters are getting nervous and losing hope.

Many of these problems have no clear solution, but Toriel tasks the Royal Scientist to one it might be possible for her to solve: the food issue.

After all, it may only be a mild concern now, but with the human souls gone, with how long it took to gather so many to begin with, how unlikely it is for more humans to fall down anytime soon—and to be treated as guests, even if they do fall…

It’s going to be quite some time before monsterkind has any real chance to be free.

They need to survive.

They need to be able to weather the long winter that’s to come, to remain strong and keep from falling to despair.

Certainty that they won’t starve to death in subterranean ignominy is a solid step towards that.

Alphys, happy to have been kept on after her last boss…uh. Well, she throws herself into the assignment, feeling that this is her chance to really do something great, worthy of her title.

The way she sees it, they need some kind of a staple crop, something they can produce in excess without exhausting their resources in the process.

She sets her eyes on the echo flower.

Echo flowers are hardy plants and grow well in any dark environment, in all but the driest of soils, already proliferating wildly in the Underground without any influence and thriving for a long, long, long time. Their petals have been known to make a soothing tea, but the root of the plant—a thick black rhizome—is edible, too.

It hasn’t been actually eaten very much, historically, being that the taste is…not great, a little sour and a lot bitter, no matter how you prepare it.

But it is edible, full of nutrients and ambient magic to keep a monster fed and healthy so long as you don’t mind the taste.

And…can they really afford to mind the taste, at this stage?

Toriel agrees with Alphys’ assessment. The artificial light cycles that simulate day and night are ceased and echo flowers are planted anywhere and everywhere they’ll take, roots harvested and incorporated into monsters’ diets. At first, the farming is only to supplement the scarcity of other foods, but as time goes by and most of those all but disappear, the root eventually begins replacing them almost entirely.

It takes awhile for anyone to notice the changes.

Before necessity, no monster ate or even used enough echo flower root to realize that it had preservative properties.

When monsters begin to notice they’re not aging nearly as fast as they should be, a whole host of other side-effects have started to make themselves known, all dutifully assessed and catalogued by Alphys.

Monsters who consume the echo flower root consistently, at volume, can expect to see many of the following changes in their bodies:

Light sensitivity

Darkening of the extremities

Extended periods of low activity (similar to hibernation)

Lack of appetite

Bioluminescence

Reduced metabolism

Sharpening of preexisting teeth, or growth of new ones

Heightened senses (predominantly hearing sight, and smell)

Decreased sensitivity to touch

Increased physical durability

Thorn-like growths or protrusions

Mental changes and personality drift

In addition to these is something monsters colloquially start to refer to as The Withering, when bodies begin to look thin, gnarled and frail but with no attached physical ailments.

The monsters so afflicted by their new condition…

Accept it.

There’s little else they can do, as reliant on their new food source as they are by this point, and quite frankly, none of the changes seem all that bad.

They have food, they have each other, and most importantly, they have time.

It’s all a little different, of course, but monsters are nothing if not adaptable, every bit the survivors the Queen knew they could be.

The worst thing to come out of it all is that brightness of Hotland and New Home poses a bit of discomfort to most of those who’d settled there, but Toriel oversees a mass migration back to Home and renovation of the Ruins there to make them a far more pleasant place to live.

And naturally, along the way are Waterfall, blissfully dark, and Snowdin, delightfully cold—both equally appealing neighborhoods to move into, with monsters’ new taste for such things.

Life goes on for monsterkind, still trapped in their deep cavern but now…kind of thriving in it.

The next human to fall will be faced with a very different sort of Underground than the one the last human left, darker and colder to be sure, filled with monsters who want to be their friend but are maybe…a little rusty at it.

But there should be plenty of time for them to get used to it.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans)

Not so friendly with regards to humans, these days. He knows for a fact what that last one did to a handful of innocent monsters, and has a pretty strong hunch that they could’ve undone it, or at least come back to free their so-called ‘friends’ after the dust settled…but they didn’t. Despite everything, they were no better than any other human who touched the lives of monsters, and he’s all out of belief and hope and second chances for any of their ilk

Something of a new lease on life, or at least a stubborn determination to live, in spite of monsters’ most likely fate after their abandonment—the influence of the echo flower root has made a lot of his favorite creature-comfort-type experiences (eating, sleeping, savoring warmth) more difficult to enjoy, but he refuses to let that stop him

A slight mean-streak, fond of creeping up on people, unnerving them, enjoying a bit of schadenfreude now and then… but at the same time very defensive of anyone he considers part of his in-group (monsters only for now)

Mostly drifts around his usual haunts, Grillby’s, his place, his sentry station—even though the Guard isn’t a thing and he’s not technically a sentry anymore. He still likes to keep an eye-socket out, and if a human manages to slip out of the Ruins without being caught, or if they come in the back way, he’d really like to be there to give them a good scare, and remind them that he’s watching

A little chilly, a bit avoidant, and with a tendency to push peoples’ buttons to see what they do (…well, he’s always done that one), he’s not the easiest person to get along with but… Well, there is no ‘but,’ that’s the end of the sentence.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus)

Very, very, very eager to make new friends—yes, even human ones! He befriended the last one, but…maybe he didn’t do it right, because…they left…and never came back…and if his brother is to be believed, they may have also murdered a few monsters before that… That’s probably not his fault. But he can do better! He can be a great friend! The best friend, he just needs another chance!

In the process of reinventing himself, just a bit. With the Royal Guard disbanded, that dream is dead, but the Great Papyrus doesn’t need a dream to be great! He’s working on himself right now, trying new hobbies, exploring new styles, reaching out…reaching out a lot, it’s…it’s very hard to get a call back these days, with everything going on…

Some difficulty with emotional regulation, he can go from feeling not much of anything at all, to feeling one emotion very strongly, which can lead to embarrassing outbursts from time to time. He's managing it, or trying to!

Still patrols around Snowdin regularly, even though he’s not a sentry anymore. He likes to see everyone—all the new and old faces—and it wouldn’t do to leave all his traps and puzzles to fall into disrepair, not when he has so many ideas for how to make them more difficult, challenging enough that even the craftiest human might really need to think on

A little bit scattered, a pinch forgetful, and somewhat prone to saying vaguely unsettling things without realizing they are unsettling (…well, he’s always done that one), but mostly he’s harmless! Just seeking a bit of earnest connection and people to have in his life that won’t leave

[moondialdoodles]

TW: some blood imagery! But I made a quick animatic in one night for some backstory for my version of Timekeeper Cookie and how she slowly snapped over time. For a very TLDR version of context:, the younger version y'all are seeing is named Levain Cookie! I like to think she's a separate cookie from Croissant, and blatantly lied to her to toy with, and convince her to become the next Timekeeper. They're not at all the same cookie.

Hope y'all like the animatic tho! Worked real hard on it! :) Explanation for the AU under the cut! TW for death n' murder, there's quite a bit o' crime involved.

So! Pain Au Levain Cookie, or just Levain Cookie for short, is my au version of Timekeeper. She's been around almost as long as the TBD has. A young wizard, following in the footsteps in the creator of time magic and the TBD, Cinnaswirl the Great. Over years and years, she thrived, grew, and learned more and more about the power and potential of time magic. However, seeing Cinnaswirl having the reach that she never could with the power of the Timeweaver's Scissors, she grew... jealous. This unending hatred and burning anger for the man. The stagnant, monotonous everyday life wasn't enough for her. She wanted what he had. She wanted that power at her fingertips, and she was going to get it. She slowly began to hatch a plan. By the end of it? She would be the Director of the TBD, and no one would ever suspect a thing. In the dead of night, she killed Cinnaswirl in cold blood with his own invention in his own office. For a moment, she was in shock and disbelief at what she had done, yet she felt a rush she had never felt before. The thrill of breaking something, destroying something, because of the power in her own hands. With the Scissors now in her hands, she finally had everything she wanted. That thrill was permanently in her grasp. Endless possibilities, endless fun, and in her mind? Not a single consequence that a cookie could punish her for. Taking the goggles atop her now crumbled mentor's hat, she finally made her leave, sealing away Cinnaswirl's office in a time pocket forever. With everything she'd ever wanted, she did all as she pleased, destroying timelines, toying with whatever cookie she liked, and simply disposing of them when she grew bored. None of the TBD suspected a thing, all under the guise that Cinnaswirl had passed his role onto Levain. And as years and years passed? She had given herself a new name. Timekeeper Cookie. This version of her never did get redeemed, and remains a villain. She disappears on her own little adventures for months at a time. In her absence, the TBD seems to function just fine without her.

[19burstraat]

So I read in your newest fic’s (which IS INCREDIBLE btw you never miss 🩷) notes that you originally conceptualized the fic as being in the vein of “it’s a wonderful life” and I’m wondering…….how do you think that would have gone? Just curious 💕

Ty!! I note that I haven't seen it for quite a few years so it would have been a fairly basic comparison bc I forget the specifics of the context in IAWL, but yes... The spirit of Jordie (or possibly just Kaz's brain pulling a Really Complex Hallucination, I think the idea was it's like a fucking weird dream after he either nearly drowns or gets beaten up) pulls up, and says Hey Kaz Want To Know What Would've Happened If You HAD Died and Kaz is like. 'Um not really actually' but it's too late. I do have a bunch of notes app scraps of it, that I repurposed slightly for the current fic, so I'll paste em under the cut for your perusal. Ultimately I found this way of doing things a bit unsubtle but it was very interesting!

"Is this some guilt complex shit?" said Kaz.

"If you want it to be."

"No, I don't." Kaz wriggled out of the way and got to his feet. "I'm just going to—"

***

The sheet was wrenched away.

Kaz had seen plenty of death in the Barrel and on the Barge, and he had known who was going to be under the sheet. It didn't matter. He had to crouch abruptly in the corner before his legs gave way. He clamped his hands over his mouth and tried not to look anywhere in particular— not at Jordie, dead beside him, or Jesper, dead on the morgue table with a set of terrible wounds. He could hear snatches of conversation:

"...ran up debts... gangs... sent debtors after him..."

****

"Well, Miss Zenik— I run a little thing called the Hellshow," said Rollins. "Heard of it?"

Nina shook her head.

"Don't," Kaz said, even though it made no difference.

***

With a horrified start, Kaz realised it was Wylan; leaning on the wall in neatly re-hemmed Barrel flash and hastily cut hair.

"I want my cut now," he said.

"You'll get a cheque in a few days."

"In cash; now."

"You think I'm running a charity?" said Wylan. "You think all this information and all those chemicals come free? If you want to run this job without me, that's fine. But I won't bail you out of the Stadhall Jail when the Stadwatch grunts catch you with a fucking circular saw at the vault."

Per Haskell exchanged glances with Red Felix and Beetle. Eventually, there was some fumbling, and a wodge of kruge was produced. Wylan took it and counted it.

***

Kaz watched him go.

"He won't get out," he said.

"He might," said Jordie.

"He won't," said Kaz. "He can't. He's in too deep, now. He should've folded and left months ago, but he was too conscientious about the money and too anxious about being scammed."

***

"I get it, alright?" Kaz said wretchedly. "I get it. I understand."

"Do you?"

"I know I have to live for everyone else to make it, too." Kaz spat. "I know. What do you want me to say?"

"Fate has plans for us all, Kaz."

"Killing her and taking her platitudes? That's fucking rich." Kaz turned and paced the cobbles furiously. "Fuck! Fine! So— what? Go on! Tell me! Give me the moral!"

***

It's interesting bc I kinda like the idea (I miss Kaz when he's not there I get very upset when he's not around. Like a baby at a party screaming when everyone holding them isn't the Specific Person They Want) but also I think I'd never have finished this lmao. Also I'd have had to decide if it was a real supernatural kinda thing or if it was just Kaz's brain on a mad one. And like I say, I kinda prefer the ominous absences... To deploy Kaz's favourite tactic, planting an idea but leaving a lack of specifics or certainty, creates a lot more unsease.