#On the bright side I got all of that done except for the cover letter part

[justonefeather]

Damn I knew taking that pill at 1pm was gonna fuck me sleep wise. I was correct. Rip

[darrens-toyhouse]

Oh, Mr. Policeman!

Estevan Aguliar, Morgan Grantz and the town/city, East Armeira belong to @mrboogerlip

This is just a little fanfic/gift fic on how Estevan and Milo met! Nothing more!

~~~

"Now that that's done, I can head back home!"

Wiping his tears away, the young man got off the ground, dusted off the dirt and gravel of his skirt before turning around and heading back to his shithole apartment. It's been weeks since he last been outside in the summer heat so he was feeling a bit sweaty and dizzy, maybe he should've picked a better time to see his friends, or maybe he shouldn't have gone outside at all?

No. No! He needed to get out this time! Get some air and feel the sweet summer light on his skin, even if the light did hurt his eyes a bit after being cooped up inside for so long.

As the young man adjusted his glasses and walked downtown and back into the quiet city, he sighed as he walked passed a couple of teens smoking cigarettes and drinking what seemed to alcohol straight from several unlabeled bottles. They were all wearing baggy pants and lose shirts with the exception of one, a young girl, who wore a tank top and low-rise jeans, she even wore hoop earrings that matched her white shirt.

He shifted his eyes towards the group to get a better look at them and chuckled to himself.

It made him feel nostalgic...

Sometimes he wished he could just go back to being a teenager, a little gangsta hooligan with no future ahead of him in sight, sitting outside a disheveled, rundown, abandoned, house covered in graffiti and trash, drinking that good ole' blue freeze with his buddies while the most irritating rap blasted in the background.

Glance after glance as he walked, the teens continued to laugh, joke, cuss up a storm and cough up their lungs before washing all that tar with straight warm booze. No one could stop them now, they probably thought.

No one expect the police...

As soon as he heard those sirens blare and the red and blue lights blind his eyes, the man steady hid behind the small claustrophobic alleyway between two neighboring apartment homes, hiding his hands behind his back as if he were a kid again, hiding a stolen can of spray paint after spraying someone's car or worse a baggy of drugs.

Peeking out from behind the corner, the man adjusted his glasses and gasped silently as he watched the teens laughter fade ruther and ruther and be replaced with sighs of worry, annoyance and anger as the police car drover closer and closer before finally, parking right next to them!

One teen hurriedly got up, fist clenched and ready but was immediately pulled back by another as the officer stepped out.

He was wearing the typical bright blue uniform barley hidden behind a dark blue vest which matched his hat and pants, there was also a belt tied straight to his waist in which he carried a gun and taser, and a gold badge strapped to the right side of his chest.

The man pondered about the outfit as it was very VERY unusual for AcersVille police who often wore a dark black shirt and black vest, driving around in their white and black cars, a gun mostly already in out of their belts and a little walkie talkie in their upper vest pockets to be wearing something so...off? Maybe the times have changed?

It wasn't until he looked a little bit more closer at the cop car itself. It was blue, a deep dark blue that on the right side of the car read in big bold letters, EAST ARMEIRA PD.

The man gulped, "East Armeira?"

East Armeira, the large yet bustling city where everyone truly lived happily, and even if some had their own dark past or secrets to hid, it still didn't stop them from enjoying life in their own city unlike the people of AcersVille.

Yet it was still a shocking surprise that someone from a city so bright and full of hope would even come down here. Not to mention, the fact AcersVille often closed itself off constantly from outside cities, such as blocking the only entrance in the springtime.

Some of the teens gave the officer a stern look of pure rage while some showed faces of guilt, others showed shame. They knew that each and everyone of them all had a history with the law at such young ages and couldn't afford to go back to jail, after all those bottles of alcohol were not cheap.

The police officer shifted his eyes down at the multiple cigarette buds on the ground and then towards the bottles of alcohol, and shook his head in disbelief.

He had been told way back at his time at East Armeira Police Academy about on how troubled AcersVille teens were and how the police there were struggling to keep things under control but to see it for himself now, it truly was ridiculous! He didn't understand why the East Armeira police department was so ready to head into AcersVille and help parole it, even if it was for a very small amount of time, but now he knew why they were also so hesitant to deal with it's citizens in the first place.

It was almost like they knew the happy-cheerful smiley face façade was just that...a façade!

"What are you little rascals doing out here in the blistering heat, huh? I see you guys got some cigarettes on you."

He turned his attention back to the booze, "A couple of drinks too? Wow! You kiddos have homework right? Why not instead do that instead of being on the streets? It's more safe!"

He gave the teens a warm smile, assuring them he wasn't going to arrest nor hurt them. They were just some juveniles, AcersVille juveniles, but juveniles for sure. All they needed was someone to swerve them on the right path!

"Homework? You think WE got homework!?!"

One of the teens spat on the police officer's shoe, it was the girl! She held up her fist and started going off!

Even though, she was smaller then her male friends, she seemed to have a very smart mouth, a nasty attitude and heavy anger issues on top of being drunk out of her mind and as she stumbled, her hoop earrings swayed side to side each time, her friends desperately trying to hold her back.

"Why don't you fuck off! We ain't do shit!"

One of the boys put a hand on the girl's shoulder, trying to comfort her by saying her name and when that didn't work, he spoke up in a clear tone.

"Come on, let's just back head to the park."

Yet the girl still flat-out refused to listen!

She began to cuss even louder at the officer about how she didn't do anything even though they were technically drinking, smoking and causing a ruckus. And when the officer asked them were did the booze and cigarettes even come from and if they stole it, that's when the teens all got defensive, leading to a knife being pulled out.

The man hiding from behind the corner knew where this was going and quickly ran over to the police officer and declared that it him, who purchased their stolen drugs before then looking back at the confused teens and then back at the officer, hands slightly up as he faked a guilty look.

"It was me, officer."

His voice softened slightly. He shifted his eyes to the now cowering teens and reassured to them that everything was going to be okay, if they complied, before swiveling back to officer, his face even more guilty then before.

"I-I was the one who bought them the cigarettes and booze."

The officer raised an eyebrow, a look of confusion painted his face as he turned his view back to the teens who nodded hesitatingly.

"I see. Well guess you little rascals are off the hook."

The officer then pulled out a pair of cold sliver cuffs and cleared his throat. He hand cuffed the other adult and sighed.

"As for you, madame, you're coming with me."

The officer escorted the young man, or who he perceived to be a young women, into the back of his car before he turned back to the group of trouble making teens and gave them a disappointed glare. He knew that at the end of the day they were just teenagers but something else told him, they would never change their ways.

As he closed the back passenger door and made his way over to the driver seat, he looked down at the other adult and frowned.

"You didn't have to lie for them you know, miss. They're just some hooligans."

He looked up at the teens who were now spray painting the building they had been sitting in front of and rolled his eyes. As someone who had grown up to follow all of his mother's rules and work extremely hard to get were he was, it practically disgusted him. Such troublesome behavior that could never be fixed.

"Before you know it, they'll all be dead by tomorrow anyway."

The other adult simply chuckled in response and looked up at the officer with a look of pure emptiness and replied in a soft, yet dead toned voice,

"Then let today be their tomorrow."

×××

Past BlueBird Rode and down MaryLane, the two finally made it to the broken down apartment complex that was completely covered in trash, littering not only one balcony but multiple. There was even an old roach infested, bloodstained mattress sitting outside which let off a strong musty stench in the heat.

The police officer covered his noise as he parked his car in front of the apartment and got out in a hurry.

While he did not want to judge, he just had to blurt out,

"You live here, miss?"

To which the other man nodded, "Better than the rode we just past. I would never go back to living down BlueBird Rode again! To many prostitutes at night down there and to think people still raise their kids to grow up in this city."

The only thing the officer could say to such as response was a simple, nervously confused, "Oh?"

The young man let out a cute, soft giggle at the officer's wariness, "Hey, how about I offer you some tea? You look a little scared, Mr. Policeman!"

"D-do I?"

"Mm-hm! My treat! Now come on!"

Before the officer could say anything else, he was immediately pulled by the arm and lead up a couple of stairs, each hallway they past smelled like smoke, cigarette buds and dust littered the black carpeted floors and the mold in the corners had started to blend with the carpet. Each door they had past was either busted slightly open, scratched up with chalk from the kids who lived here or in the case of one, blown up with bullet holes.

The only door that didn't look tattered up or had mold and cigarette buds everywhere, was the only one with a slightly faded but readable number, apartment 208!

The police officer watched the other unlock the door and swing it open, causing a loud THUMP to be heard, followed by the sound of shattered glass as a picture had suddenly fallen off the wall.

While the apartment looked to be squeaky clean there was still some things that looked off.

There were slight cracks in the wall, dirty dishes piled up in the sink, small bits of crumbs and paper accumulated in some corners of the living room, and the dinning room, which was cramped right next to the living room couch was dusty beyond belief and looked like it hadn't been touched in years.

"Sorry if it's a bit dusty and dirty, I wasn't really expecting a visitor."

The other man snickered and pulled over a chair, "Please by all means take a seat, Mr. Policeman! I'll be right back, okay?"

The officer did as he was told and sat down, taking off his hat and fanning himself with it. Was this really was the hottest summer yet? Or maybe he was just uncomfortable? He never knew the city was this bad after all! Sure, rowdy, rebellious teens was one thing but this? This was a living nightmare!

As soon as he finished his tea, he would leave and head back home immediately and report back to his boss, the chief of police, Morgan Grantz! AcersVille was clearly NOT the city that needed to be protected by outsiders!

The officer gulped and turned his attention back to the cracks in the wall and adjusted his collar.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, miss, how long have you lived here? This places looks a bit-"

"Shabby? Yeah, I know. The last people that lived here left it a hot mess, hence the cracks. I've been trying to find another place to say but there really isn't a safe place to go."

When the man came back, he was holding a small tray that had two cups of tea diligently placed on top of it. He carefully sat the tray down on the table, and sat across from the officer.

He picked up his cup of tea by the handle and frowned, "Everywhere's the same..."

The officer shifted his eyes to the single cup om the tray and picked it up, taking a small sip. He was curious so he finally popped out the question that was truly on his mind, "Can't you just leave?"

The other man in the room got quiet.

"Leave?"

A long, awkward pause.

"No. I can't just leave. I was born here."

The officer shrugged and sat his cup down, "So? I was born in East Armeira, but that doesn't mean I have to stay, even if it is my home."

"Y-you wouldn't get it..."

"Get what? That this city is a extremely disheveled? Unsafe even?"

The man bit his lip and fiddled with the rim of his cup, "It's complicated..."

Another long awkward pause.

The young man adjusted his glasses and looked up at the officer, now curious.

"What's East Armeira like anyway, Mr. Policeman?"

"I don't really know how to explain it that well, miss. It's a very nice place, nicer than here anyway. Everyone gets along, everyone knows everybody, it's perfect!"

The man raised an eyebrow, he had never heard someone describe a city as perfect before.

"Really?"

"Sorta. Crime exist but its mostly petty theft. Nothing really too serious, ya know."

When the police off took another sip, the other man's eyes started to sparkle with curiosity! He began to question the officer about everything he knew about East Armeira. Like what were the people or if they had a mall? Did they also have a nightly carnival like they did over here? The possible amount of questions was endless!

And each time the officer would answer, giving out what he knew from a personal perspective of growing up in such a wonderful town! And each time he did, the man's eyes got even more filled with curiosity and he began to ask even more questions.

"Oh I see! Maybe one day I can come and visit you, Mr. Policeman!"

The officer let out a light chuckle followed by a warm smile as he sat his empty cup down on the tray, got up and put his hat back on.

"Oh please, call me, Estevan! Estevan Aguliar!"

"Estevan? That's a very funny name!"

"Oh? Then what's your name, miss?"

The nam hesitated at first even backing away in the process. He swore he would never give his name out to anyone else ever again, especially not a police officer but since Estevan seemed very very kind and extremely sweet, he broke his vow.

He cleared his throat and let out a hushed sigh.

"...Milo Campbell. Milo J-Josiah Campbell. Though you can just call me Milo..."

The officer blinked then let out a mean snicker, "You look a lot more like a Lily or a Charlotte, miss."

Milo was about to say something but kept his mouth shut once Estevan checked his watch and shook his head. He gave Milo another warm smile and started to head back home.

"Guess I have to go, Ms. Campbell! Thanks for the tea by the way, it was delicious!"

Milo smiled back, "Oh, no problem! Feel free to stop by anytime, Mr. Policeman!"

Estevan let out a light laugh as he headed out the door and back to his car, only to see it completely vandalize with gang graffiti. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as he rolled his eyes abd walked over to the driver's seat and scooted his way inside.

The last thing he saw was Milo. Standing by the window, waving goodbye.

~~~

Sorry @mrboogerlip if Estevan is written out of character I tried my hardest to say in character but I always end up picturing him as a serious yet stern guy with a sensitive soft side XD

And sorry if I got East Armeira wrong too! I have no idea what the town or city is suppose to be like but I imagine it's a big city/town with lots of people who are very very sweet and are easy to get along with but the town itself also has some very dark stuff like the whole Correa Family!

[skarletterambles]

Living and dying in three-quarter time

Well, that's definitely the first time I've ever cried listening to "Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes."

It surprised me, because while I felt bad when I saw Jimmy Buffett had passed away, I was dry-eyed. Something about hearing his voice singing one of my favorite songs, including the line "if it suddenly ended tomorrow" flipped a switch in my brain and/or my tear ducts. Damn. I rarely get seriously upset at celebrity deaths, but I guess this is one of the few exceptions. He really was an amazing singer, writer, and storyteller.

"I'm sorry it's ending. It's sad but it's true." Jimmy, I discovered you late, as an "over-forty victim of fate", just a few years before you had to "go back down and die beside the sea there," but it made my long-awaited trip to Key West so much better knowing about your music and story. Normally I'm up here in the land where it's "twenty degrees and the hockey game's on" but I've been in love with the Keys since "my very first look." When I was there I ate a "cheeseburger in paradise" at Margaritaville (and took the photo above). "I went down to Captain Tony's" (see photo below). I "stroll[ed] "down the avenue that's known as A1A" in "the city so neat where nobody cares what you do," and I was one of the "tourists covered in oil" (or least massive amounts of sunscreen). I may have even gone a little crazy on Caroline Street.

I don't drink or smoke and I can't pretend I've never "bitch[ed] about the mosquitoes," but I share your bone-deep love of keys, palm trees and manatees. Now here I am, "writing you this letter that you'll probably never see."

Thank you for the music and the memories, Jimmy. "We bid our farewells much too soon." You were one of a kind and I'm sorry I didn't become a Parrothead earlier. You might say it's "something I should have done such a long time ago."

But, as you sang in "The Last Mango in Paris"... "A legend never dies."

(On the bright side, coming up with all those lyric references got me smiling instead of crying.)

[writernopal]

Nostalgia

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” She asked with a tiny smile as she popped a tater tot into her mouth.

“Aye, how could I forget?” I replied with a smile as I took a bite of my burger, “Been the time I first kissed ye.”

“Yes, it was.” She mused with the lightest of blushes as she watched the sunset, then took a sip of her milkshake.

I chuckled, tossing a few fries into my mouth as I observed it with her.

Watching the sunset from the front seat of my car was one of the things she most enjoyed. We usually watched cartoons on my phone too, but she hadn’t asked me to put any on today. I wasn’t sure why not.

“Been ye nervous?” I asked, deciding to continue our conversation. 

“Of course I was.” She responded, cheeks brightening, “I consider it to be my first kiss ever….”

I nearly dropped my food. “Ye nay be serious.”

“I am.” She responded, looking self-conscious.

“Why did ye no say?” I asked more belligerently this time.

“Should I have…?” Her tiny eyebrows creased into her familiar worried expression. 

“Aye, would have made it more special for ye.” I complained, sitting up to look at her more directly.

“But it was special….” She said, looking crestfallen.

“Been it?” I asked, feeling skeptical of her admission.

“Yes. I remember how hard my heart was beating and how difficult it was to breathe.” She covered her cheeks with her hands, a dreamy look taking hold of her expression now, “It was very special to me….”

I blinked a few times, not at all expecting to see her so overcome with the feeling which might only be described by that four-letter word. Did that mean…? Was she in love with me?

“W-What else do ye remember ‘bout that kiss?” I asked, mouth running dry and heart thumping so hard it might leap out of my chest.

Her eyes fluttered, and she looked away from me. “T-The way you smelled… a-and….”

“And?” I asked, leaning toward her.

“W-What are you doing?” She asked, backing away from me. 

I gulped nervously. “Nothin’.”

“Oh…” She replied, almost sounding disappointed.

I quickly opened the driver’s side door, got out, came around to her side, and threw her door open. 

“Axtapor—?!”

I leaned in and gently pressed my lips against hers as I’d done that day, but this time parted her lips with my tongue. I heard her gasp, but she didn’t fight me or seem to dislike it; instead, she relaxed as the seconds passed. 

“Was it somethin’ as so?” I asked in a breathless whisper once we parted.

“N-No.” She responded cheeks and face a bright beet red.

“Nay?”

“No… I-I think you should t-try again….” She said, nibbling on her lip.

I reached beneath the passenger’s seat, lifting the lever to push the whole thing back as far as it would go.

“Axtapor, what are you—?!” 

She let out a little scream as I climbed in, settled in her lap, and slammed her door shut. Needless to say, she couldn’t get a word in after that, and eventually, she conceded that I’d successfully replicated the feeling of that fabled first kiss.

Not much to say about this one 🫣 Except that Mariel absolutely knows how spicy Axtapor is and ALSO knows exactly what she is doing.

[afriendlyblackhottie]

Missed You

Summary: It’d been a long year with Chris gone, but he promised to become a better man for your family.

Pairings: Chris Evans x Black!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of jail time, smut, swearing, Chris calling the reader his bitch, daddy kink, breeding kink

(A/N: I saw this gif and got inspired. Anyway Chris and reader are mid 20’s in it. Feedback is like drugs for me so please.)

Tags: @titty-teetee, @harrysthiccthighss, @iam-laiya , @night-of-the-living-shred, @liquorlaughslove

Chris was bulkier than you remembered. The scrawny boy you’d crushed on in high school had been replaced by the man walking towards you. Through the many phone calls, letters he’d written to you, and the occasional visits it didn’t take long for you to realize there wasn’t much for him to do except read, eat, sleep, and workout. It paid off because damn he looked good.

You’d been waiting for this moment since he’d waved goodbye. Seeing him walk away from you was so hard. This hadn’t even been the first time he’d got in trouble with the law, it’s just that this time felt so different now that you had a one-year-old who was now about to turn three to take care of and had to hold everything down. Somehow you managed, not without help, but you made it through.

Now he was finally there. Trying to coerce you into letting him hit it even though he knew you had somewhere to be. His ma wanted to have a nice family dinner. Little Chris was already there, probably being fussed over by his grandma. All you were supposed to do was stop at home so he could shower and change and be on your way. He just couldn’t resist you in that dress.

He loved seeing you in sundresses and you knew that which is why you wore it. All he could think about once he saw you was seeing it bunched up around your waist since the moment he saw you. “Baby, we can’t,” you tried to reason with him, giggling as he kissed your neck. 

“C’mon. It’s been a year. I missed my girl,” he whispered into your ear before easily picking you up, to place you on the kitchen table. He’d just gotten out of the shower and had peeked into the kitchen to see you packing up some stuff you wanted to take to his mom’s. He hadn’t even gotten dressed because he knew what he was trying to do. Only his chain and the tattoos that were scattered along his body.

You looked up at him with a pout as he held you tightly against him. “Baby,” you groaned, trying to be serious. It was true, though. It had been a very long year. Your vibrator could only get you through so much. You didn’t want your first time together since he’d been home to be like this. Not a rush. You wanted to take your time.

The way he was kissing your neck let you know you were about to lose this battle. You shivered because fuck his lips did feel good. You touched his stomach, running your finger up and down the six pack that hadn’t been there last time.

What a fucking jerk. He knew what seeing him in the chain did to you for some reason. Especially with that fresh haircut. Fuck your man looked so yummy. 

He gripped your ass roughly, letting you know who the fuck was in charge right now. “Oh, no, Baby. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten. You know better.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you sighed before tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth trying to look up at him all innocent.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned softly. He grabbed your hand placing it on his already hardening dick. He was so long and thick your hand could barely wrap around it. It was so damn fat. “I know you missed me, Baby.”

“I did.” You looked up at him as you now stroked his heavy cock. He put his thumb on your lips before greedily kissing you. 

It didn’t take long for him to pick you up again his muscles flexing against you as he made you wrap your legs around his waist. The whole time he’d carried you to the bedroom his dick was rubbing into your covered pussy.

He finally sat down on the bed with you in his lap. He laid back taking you with him your lips still on his. You pulled away so you could start taking your dress off, but he grabbed your hand to stop you. “Leave it on,” he said before smacking your ass.

You nodded, your eyes falling to his chest to that chain as you finally made out the script of the tattoo you’d never seen before. “Is - is that my name?” You asked tracing your finger over it.

He nodded leaning back with a smirk on his lips. “Mhm,” he said.

“Your mom is gonna kill you.” You grinned.

He shrugged. “You’re it for me, Baby. I want to become a better man for you.”

“Oh, Chris.” You teared up. He leaned up so he could reconnect your lips. You leaned down to him and he pushed your panties to the side so you could finally sink down onto his cock.

You hissed as your pussy was finally full of him after too long. You sat up straight so you could ride him properly. He grabbed onto your hips so he could fuck you with force. “So damn tight,” he groaned. “Fucking missed this pussy.” He looked so beautiful. His chain resting on his chest.“You missed me, huh, Baby? Missed my dick.”

His grip on your hips was tight as he made you bounce up and down his thick length. “Yes, Daddy.”

“No one else got to touch this pussy, right?” He groaned knowing the answer because you were his good girl. “It’s all mine?”

Your pussy felt so creamy on his cock. “Never. This is your pussy, Daddy.” You changed pace grinding your hips back and forth. He helped you move because even though you were on top, he was still in control.

“That’s right, Bitch. This is Daddy’s cunt.” You know you shouldn’t like your boyfriend calling you his bitch, but there was something about him degrading you that was so addicting.

Your dress had bunched up around your waist as you let him fuck into you. He almost felt like he was to much to take, but you were determined. You’d been daydreaming about this moment this whole year. Needing to feel him however he wanted to give it to you.

He looked between the two of you, to see your cream running down his length and making a mess on his pelvis. He was glad that you didn’t hate him. When it all first happened it’d been hard. The two of you getting close to splitting up, but somehow you managed to stick it out.

He’d felt like a piece of shit for putting you in that position. Not like it had been the first time, but after you got pregnant with Little Chris he’d done such a good job at staying out of trouble until he got cocky. Fucked around too much. It was okay. He was out now. You were back in his arms and on his dick. That was all that mattered.

Now he had your name tattooed to his chest because you’d be his girl forever. He wanted to grow old with you. Wanted to put more of his babies in you. He’d get his shit together and give you that ring he’d had hidden in his Ma’s house since last year. Then give you that big wedding he knew you wanted. That you deserved.

Just the way you were moaning while riding him was letting him know you deserved the world. He needed to treat you right. First, though, he needed to dick you down properly.

He got up still inside of you making you squeal. “Chris!” You squealed.

He chuckled before getting back onto the bed. He needed to feel your perfect cunt creaming for him over and over again while you withered underneath him. “Daddy!” You cried as he slammed into you again.

“That’s it, Bitch. Take this dick. Bet you didn’t even think about any other man, huh.”

You gasped as he rammed into you. You did love how he made you take him. How he stuffed you with his thick cock without any mercy. “Never! This is yours. I’m yours. This pussy is yours!”

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Did you stop taking your birth control like I told you?” His voice broke and you could tell he was so close.

His chain was dangling in your face. You don’t know what came once you as you put your mouth on it. You nodded looking into his bright blue eyes. You clawed at his muscular shoulders, needing something to hold onto as your orgasm finally crashed onto you.

It didn’t even stop. The way he was fucking you through it made you swear that you could feel him in your stomach. All you could do was take it like he’d told you to. It was all you wanted.

“Daddy’s gonna put another baby in this pussy.” His hips stuttered, losing the rhythm he’d built up since now that you’d cum all he wanted was to flood your pussy with his seed. “You wanna give daddy another baby? Want me to fuck my baby into you?””

You nodded all blissed out, but still taking it because you wanted to be a good little wifey. “Get me pregnant,” you cried, falling back against the pillow with the taste of metal on your tongue.

It was like music to his ears and the final push he needed to finally reach his breaking point. He went in so deep as he finally unloaded into you. Painting your walls with his thick cum.

His Ma was gonna kill him and rightfully blame him for the two of you being late, but he couldn’t resist finally being with you after this long. He promised he’d get his shit together this time. Now that he’d hopefully have two babies to take care of. He didn’t want you to have to worry about anything ever again. He’d make sure you’d never have to lift a finger.

[smallrainclouds]

Tangled starlights

(working title)

Also hc that Hypnos is also working when he sleeping, he does his job as God of sleep. He can also do a normal sleep so he can get rest. But he doesn't get nearly as much he needs.

Part four of marriage AU

No beta.

🌙💤💤🌙

You stood in the dusty room as Hypnos floated around, lighting the candles on the walls. 

You didn't think you would return to this room. Not after what happened a few days ago. Your stomach twisted in anxiety. You weren't upset exactly but you didn't expect such a strong response. 

"And no one has kept up with the library?" You asked. You didn't want to think about *it* right now.

You walked along the shelfs, the scrolls seemed to be calling for you. 

"Mother made this place before Hades took over the house for her and he didn't deem any of this stuff important." He replied, and pointed to a door at the far end of the room. 

Hypnos waved a hand around. "There are more in that room also. When she was younger, she used to collect as many stories and knowledge as she could. But she never took the time to actually organize it." 

Hypnos lit the last candle and floated down to stand. He kept some distance between You and him. Only his bright eyes followed you around the room as you wondered.

"If you don't want to, it's totally fine. This is a lot-" 

"N-no. I want to!" You shook your head. "I helped Athens with her library the few times she needed to update it." 

You stopped and turned with a smile. "Also I like a good story and I don't doubt that your mother has some great ones in here." 

Hypnos returned your smile and you tried not to think about how close he was last night.

"Great! I'll get Dusa to help you clean up the dust in here."  He glanced around the room, "And maybe some chairs and tables." 

"Yes. Might be helpful." You teased him. And felt a little warm at his laugh.

🌙💤💤🌙

Several hours in and you were bone tired and dusty.  

So.Very.Dusty.

"Hey Dusa! How is it looking up there?" You called out.  Dusa quickly floated to You. Her green, shiny skin was now dark gray with dust but that didn't stop the beaming smile. 

You smiled back, already so fond of Dusa. It felt like You had spent a day with one of your sisters. 

"I think we got all the dust! I'm just sorry we had to remove all the scrolls out of their place."  She glanced at the piles of scrolls in the corner, carefully stacked together.

You shook your head, "It's okay. I've been told it was already a bit of a mess so no harm done."

"O-oh good!" She bobbed in the air. " I think-"

"Oh wow, I didn't realize we had so many scrolls."  An male voice drifted through the door. 

You and Dusa both turned toward the door, surprised at the visitor. 

Zagreus stood, hands on hips as he looked at the pile that loomed over him. 

"O-oh Prince! Be careful!" Dusa rushed over to him. You followed, of course he will show up when you and Dusa were both a mess. 

"Don't worry, I won't touch it." Zagreus smiled at You. " Sorry for coming at a bad time. I heard from Mother Nyx that Hypnos' wife was taking over the library. And I realized I haven't induced myself yet. I'm Zagreus.

"My name is Y/N and I would shake your hand but…" You held up your hands, covered in dust and grime. 

"Of course. If you ever need anything, just let me know." Zagreus' mismatched eyes studied your face as he said it.

"Thank you, Prince Zagreus. Dusa has been an amazing help already."  You tilted your head to Dusa who blushed.

"O-oh it is not a problem! I'm happy to help!" Dusa murmured.

"Dusa is amazing isn't she? Our hardest worker for sure." Zagreus praised, he sounded so proud of her. 

"Oh oh my, excuse me! I- I need to get cleaned up." Dusa rushed out, her blush visible even with the dust

"Oh dear." Zagreus said. "We might have been a bit much. But it is good that she hears it. Goodness knows Father doesn't understand how hard she works for this house."

You weren't quite sure what to say. You didn't want to take sides yet or ever if it can be avoided. You have seen too many times what happens when two gods get into a fight with each other. 

"You'll have to forgive me but Dusa is right. A hot bath sounds like a dream right now." You smiled at him, glad for the excuse. 

"Of course! I will leave you to it, Y/N!" Zagreus nodded and waved goodbye as he left.

You sighed. Hopefully this room will be worth the trouble.

🌙💤💤🌙

You couldn't remember the last time you felt so relaxed. There was nothing like a hot bath, you mused.

You tore off a part of the warm bread and popped it into your mouth. You eyed the pomegranate but went for the olive. Save the best for last you thought.

You laid on top of the covers, feeling like the most spoiled being alive. You went for another olive.

 

What a day.  But at least you were moving forward and now there was a job for you to do. 

inevitably, you thought about Hypnos. He was still at work, you last heard. You knew he slept on the job but that wasn't a rest. Not really. 

You thought about what he said before. How being more powerful than your sisters. No one ever said that, why would they? It is clear what the gods liked. 

Hermes may have the only exception (at least until Hypnos) that enjoyed her powers but even then he never said what Hypnos did. 

Hermes had always pushed a little more, made her try harder to be a little more quick and clever. Your older brother in everything but blood. Hermes had been one of the few people You missed other than your sisters.

He did travel to the underworld sometimes. Maybe you could see him again. Give him letters for your sisters. 

Your eyes drifted closed, the dark red 

canopy were the last thing you saw before sleep overtook You. 

🌙💤💤🌙

There were sounds outside your door. You blinked at the candles by your bedside. They were much lower than before you went to sleep. The only sign that any time had passed at all.

You frowned at your door. It sounded like an argument. You stood and quietly walked to the door. You pressed your ear against it. 

But the bloody thing was so thick, you weren't sure what was being said. 

But you weren't going to just stand there especially after being woken up so rudely. You looked around your chambers for a weapon. Just in case.

You frowned when you realized there was nothing. You would just have to be ready to slam the doors.

With a deep breath, you pushed your bedchambers open. 

The two men outside went quiet. Hypnos and another man You didn't know stood before you.

"Great, just great. Now look at what you did." Hypnos snapped at the other man. 

"Me?" The man snapped back. He was about the same height as Hypnos but unlike Hypnos he wore only dark colors. His scythe loomed over all three as it gleamed even the candlelight. 

"Yes you!" Hypnos grumbled. He turned to You, his normal smile gone. And you couldn't help but notice how much deeper the black circles have gotten. 

"Y/N, I'm sorry. You will have to forgive us for our lack of manners. You can go back to sleep now." Hypnos turned back to the man. "Brother, I think our 'little talk' is done for now. You should be getting back to work right?" Hypnos' tone was sharp.

You didn't realize he could sound like that. Also brother? 

The man frowned, and looked at You then at Hypnos.

"Fine, but you have a duty to the house. You need to grow up at some point." 

Then he turned on his foot and walked away. 

Once he was out of sight, Hypnos sighed as he looked at you. He was floating, the candles highlighted his face.

"I didn't know you had a brother." You stepped out of your bedchambers. You were only in a draped linen gown, a little inappropriate but you were too curious not to know.

"Two brothers, Thanatos and Charon. You just 'met' my twin, Thanatos." Hypnos said.

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and your heart twisted. You will ask more about his brothers later. 

"Have you gotten any sleep?" You felt silly asking the god of sleep if he got any rest.  But those dark circles were all the proof you needed.

"Sure, I fall asleep on all time especially on the job!" Hypnos' smiled meanly, his hands spread out in a mock shrug.

"I mean real sleep." You crossed your arms. "Surely, the naps you take aren't enough." 

Almost out of nowhere, a thought came. 

"Wait, what exactly are you doing when you napping?" You asked. 

Hypnos raised an eyebrow and silent took over.

"Does it matter?" He finally responded. 

"It matters. At least to me." You didn't know what to make of this whole argument. There was something you were missing but you don't know what.

Hypnos was silent as he stopped floating. He walked closer, his light golden eyes not leaving your own eyes. You resisted stepping back, staying in place with your arms crossed. You cursed how warm you felt when Hypnos stopped in front of you. 

"My brother is the God of Death. He gets those last few minutes of a human's life. Unbelievably terrifying for those poor humans I imagine." Hypnos leaned forward, his hand pressed against the wall, next to your waist. 

You could feel a blush crawl up your neck and cheeks. "And what do you get?" You asked, hating the small tremble in your voice. 

"One third. Sometimes more than that. Slowly over the years. When I sleep, I can go to humans and give them sleep or take away any sleep they want." 

 

Hypnos' eyes were beautiful and you felt so exposed.

"So you haven't been getting much real sleep at all." You said, tearing your eyes away. On impulse, you reached up to touch the obol. You heard his breath hitched. 

You had to put a stop to this. Or you would do something very foolish.

"Right then come along." You grabbed his wrist and pulled him into your bedchamber.

"Ah…" Hypnos sounded unsure. 

"You need some sleep. I can't trust that you will if I leave you alone in your bedroom." Your blush was getting worse.  "Also I doubt I will be able to get any more sleep. So I'm just going to keep an eye on you while I finish up some letters." 

You cleared off the bed and gestured towards your bed. 

Hypnos just stood there. "You don't-"

You waved his words away. "No one will bother you in here, so just try to get a nap in." 

You sat down at your desk, feeling very foolish. You grabbed a blank paper and started writing down tasks for the library.

You heard Hypnos moved around and settled in your bed. You thought you heard him murmured something but didn't turned around to look. 

 

Eventually you heard his soft breathing. This time you did look. He didn't get under the cover but did take one of the pillows and was on the opposite side you slept on. 

If anyone asked why you allowed this, you just say you were helping your husband as a wife should.

Nothing more, nothing less.

You nodded, and tried not to think how your heart fluttered earlier.

🌙💤💤🌙

Your eyes blinked open. Frowning in confusion, you looked down at your papers.  A blanket slipped off your shoulders and pooled around your feet. 

Last night ( or day) memories flooded back. You had fell asleep at your desk. 

You turned to look at your bed but Hypnos was gone. You didn't like how disappointed you felt. No need for that for that, you scolded yourself. You grapped the blanket to return it. 

 

Only when you got closer, did you see what Hypnos left behind. 

On the bed, a bottle of nectar and a note was tucked under the bottle.

'Thanks.' No name or anything, not that You needed one. 

 

There was however a picture of an smiling face next to it.

"Oh Hypnos." You laughed. 

Oh...

Oh dear what have You gotten yourself into to?

🌙💤💤🌙

[dongofthewolf]

Omg I’m sorry for not realizing u had a list 😅 but I wasn’t wondering if u could do 41 with Abby and could u make it like rlly angsty but with some fluff or smut at the end

Everything Good in Life Seems to Lead Back to You

Abby Anderson X Reader

Prompt: 41. Overhearing they have feelings for you

Warnings: blood and injury, canon typical violence, swearing, fluff, angst (I tried anon I tried), Owen slander once again (sorry not sorry)

Gender neutral pronoun for the reader (if you’d like your request to use specific pronouns please add to the ask)

Link to the prompt list here

A/N: it’s safe to say that I wrote this with the speed of a thousand blazing horses if that even makes any sense. I hope that you all enjoy this lovely word vomit (esp if you requested) it was a blast to write !!

btw the Virginia Woolf reference is from her letters to Vita Sackville and the Jane Austen one is from Pride and Prejudice. What can I say? I guess I’m just a hoe for old love, baby.

Abby spent a lot of time reading; so much so that she had created this false expectation of what love was supposed to feel like. Abby believed that love was supposed to be strong, and passionate, and bright—an everlasting devotion. Of course she shrugged it off at first, they were just books after all—pieces of fiction to fantasize and dream about. Love wasn’t something you could define in a book nor could it ever live up to the likes of Shakespeare or Virginia Woolf.

Abby had never been in love; she sometimes believes she came close to some iteration of it when she was with Owen, but looking back now she realized that what she felt wasn’t love. It was a desperate attempt to be wanted—to be needed, a manifestation of her desire for approval. And after her falling out with him, Abby had come to accept that she simply wasn’t made for love, and that if by some miracle she ever did fall, it definitely wouldn’t be like the books.

That was Abby’s initial perspective on love, but oh how times have changed. The moment you waltzed into her life, every sad, pathetic notion she had about love was thrown out the window in a matter of seconds. Never in her most outrageous dreams did Abby expect to fall this hard, especially since the two of you were practically best friends.

In fact, it had been very platonic at first; Abby was your superior and you often worked together on missions. She didn’t know what compelled her to talk to you but when she did, the two of you hit it off immediately. You started training together, then working out together, and eventually you were spending almost every minute together. The two of you could literally correctly predict every thought that went through each other's head, all except of course (in Abby’s case) for one. It even got to the point where you both somehow knew when the other couldn’t sleep, so much so that Abby had grown accustomed to opening her door to see you holding a glass of milk and a plate of cookies like a little kid on Christmas. She had spent so many sleepless nights alone only to realize that the one thing she was missing, was you and your adorable midnight snacks.

Abby never entertained the thought of professing her slightly less than platonic feelings for you, because she had become content with the idea that you’d simply never feel the same. However, while she had come to accept her unfortunate situation to be a permanent one, it still hurt her when she saw you flirt with other people. And she’d be lying if she said your absentminded touches didn’t still send her soaring. Sometimes she hated how naturally affectionate you were, it made it so hard for her to not love you.

The box that Abby had continually shoved herself into so she wouldn’t fuck up your friendship was almost starting to feel like home, and as uncomfortable as it was, she knew it was for the best. Almost nothing could compel Abby to leave this torturous, self-inflicted prison she was trapped in. Almost nothing.

—

The mission was supposed to be a simple one: get in, get the weapons, get out. A mission so simple, the both of you could’ve done it in your sleep. In fact, on a few occasions after a long night of drinking, you had practically done just that. You met up with the group of traders who you were well acquainted with, and the deal went down smoothly. Everything was going according to plan, which is why you and Abby were completely caught off guard when a group of rogue hunters suddenly began firing shots like it was a fucking carnival.

Turns out there was a new rival group in town, and someone had tipped them off. You and Abby luckily were able to find cover from their relentless fire, but not before you got a bullet straight through your left thigh. You didn’t even realize it at first, the adrenaline coursing through your veins still working to protect you from the devastating pain that was to come. When you did notice it, you had already lost copious amounts of blood. Then the dizziness began to set in, and soon after the pain. Abby hadn’t even realized you were injured till you slumped over on the ground next to her.

Looking down in horror, Abby lifted you into her arms. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Why are y-” Then Abby noticed the blood, and suddenly she was panicking. “Oh shit. Oh fuck, Y/N we have to get you out of here.”

“T-the package, we need the package. Can’t leave without it.” Your response was weak, desperate. You had to finish the mission, the WLF was in dire need of these supplies and you were not going to be the one to tell Isaac you failed.

“Fuck the package, we need to get you back to base.” Abby removed her belt, turnoqueting your leg with such surprising ease that you nearly didn’t notice the agonizing pain in your leg. Nearly.

You groaned when Abby hoisted you into her arms bridal style, careful not to move your leg too much before she booked it to the truck. When she plopped you down into the passenger's seat and began to speed away from the scene, you suddenly felt your eyes becoming heavier. You were so tired. You had lost so much blood already and your body felt like it was shutting down.

Abby was frantically racing towards the base, eyes fixed to the road until she heard you let out a small whine. “Abby, I‘m so tired. Need to sleep.”

Abby noticed you drifting off and she reached her arm out to shake your shoulder violently. “No. No sleeping, you gotta stay awake Y/N.”

Though Abby didn’t mention it, she was terrified. When she looked over at you, you were pale and cold to the touch, drifting off while your leg continued to bleed profusely despite her tourniquet. This could be it; you could die right now, and Abby would have lost the one person in this world she cared about most. She couldn’t let that happen, she wouldn’t.

You were equally as terrified as Abby; every natural instinct in your body was begging for you to sleep and you were becoming tired of trying to ignore it. The last thing you remembered was the look on the face of the girl you had fallen for, her eyes brimming with tears while she wore a desperate, horrified expression.

—

You laid unconscious for what felt like an eternity and Abby never left your side. She had abandoned her duties (with Isaac’s permission) and spent every second next to you, her head resting on the edge of your bed while she waited for you to wake up. The only thing that prompted Abby to step away was Manny, who had heard what happened and went to check on her.

Manny knew full and well that Abby was in love with you; in fact, almost all of Abby’s friends knew. Abby had confided in him during many torturous nights and he was a surprisingly good listener. He understood her circumstances and never pushed her to confess her feelings for you, even if it did annoy him how oblivious Abby was to the fact that you obviously felt the same way. “Abby, I heard what happened. Is everything okay?”

Abby was exhausted, she hadn’t slept at all since you made it back to the base and she couldn’t get the memory of your cold, pale body out of her head. “I almost lost them, Manny. Y/N could’ve died out there without ever knowing how I feel about them.” Tears threatened to fall but Abby did her best to keep her composure.

“It’s going to be okay, Abby. Y/N’s here and they’re alive, and that’s all that matters.” Manny’s hand was on Abby’s shoulder, trying his best to comfort her. “You should tell them how you feel though.”

“Huh?” Abby hadn’t expected that. Manny knew her situation well enough to know that telling you how she felt was a bad idea… It was a bad idea, right?

“It’s like you said, Y/N could’ve died without ever knowing how you feel about them. Wouldn’t it be better to have no regrets at all?” The words stopped Abby in her tracks. She never thought she’d actually agree with Manny.

“It’s just- I love Y/N so much, and I don’t want to lose them this way.” Abby was on the brink of tears, her voice turning into a desperate plea.

“I’m not going anywhere Abs.”

Abby froze, turning around slowly. You were gripping to the doorway for support, limping on one leg and looking extremely weathered.

“Y/N!” Abby immediately ran to put your arm around her shoulder while she carried you back to your bed, setting you down carefully. “You shouldn't be on your leg, you could make it worse.”

There was genuine concern on Abby’s face and in that moment you weren’t sure you could love her any more than you already did. She was so incredibly sweet and caring and no one had ever shown this much concern for your safety and well-being. You had heard her through the door and you couldn’t stop yourself from interrupting her. There was so much about Abby you absolutely adored and she had no idea. How could she not have known you were hopelessly in love with her? Was she truly that oblivious to your obvious flirting? All the subtle touches, the pathetic excuses to sleep in her bed, the fact you literally went out of your way to find rare coins so you could bring them back to her, it all just flew over her head. You couldn’t believe it.

Abby was still rambling about your leg, clearly trying to pretend like she didn’t just profess her love for you while you were standing right behind her. Instead of speaking, you wrapped your hands around her neck before leaning in, silencing her with a kiss so perfect you could’ve passed out right there. You could tell she was stunned at first, but soon enough she was kissing you back. Her fingers were running through your hair and when you pulled away she leaned her forehead against yours, not wanting to part from you.

“Did you mean it?” You pulled away to look Abby in the eyes, your hands still wrapped around her shoulders.

Abby had a dumbstruck look on her face. “Mean what?”

“When you said you loved me, did you mean it?” Your eyes searched her face for an answer while your heart was beating a million miles a minute.

Abby smiled, her eyebrows furrowed as she spoke. “Y/N, I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I’m so hopelessly in love with you that it’s almost pathetic. You have no idea how essential to me you have become—how many nights I’ve stayed awake because you weren’t there to hog all the blankets. Y/N, you have no idea how ardently I love you.”

You smirked “Abigail Anderson did you just quote Virginia Woolf and Jane Austen?” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, Abby could be such a nerd sometimes.

“I just confessed my ever-lasting love for you and that’s the first thing you say?” Abby was smiling widely now, relief flowing through her now that she no longer had to conceal her feelings for you.

“I love you too Abs, so fucking much. Also I do not hog the blankets, your comforter is simply too small.” Abby chuckled before she leaned in for another kiss, the worry suddenly disappearing the moment her lips touched yours.

Although Abby had never really known what she expected love to be, this is what she imagines it’d feel like, and you bet your ass it was better than the books. To tell the truth, it was better than any other conceivable thing on this entire planet. Nothing could beat the way Abby felt now that she had finally broken free from her excruciating self-inflicted prison.

Abby pulled away from the kiss, gazing at you lovingly. “Are you hungry?”

God damn Abby, it was like she knew exactly what you were thinking. You didn’t know how long you had been unconscious for, but you were ravenous. “Starving.”

And almost as if you were telepathically communicating, the both of you spoke at the exact same time.

“Cookies?”

“Cookies.”

[attllhak]

I 100% blame @kagrenacs entirely for this. This is your fault. You gave me Ideas.

Also, @tortilla-of-courage I promised I’d tag you in this. Here’s that crack fic I talked about where Mario is Malon’s step-father.

Behold, a crack fic.

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

Link had been dating Malon officially for about three months when the letter came.

Link had arrived at the ranch about the same time as the postman left, having just got back home from another adventure trying to help clear out a temple that had been invaded by monsters that the regular soldiers were struggling with. He went so Sheik wouldn’t, as apparently Zelda was needed at the castle for something else.

Malon was waving goodbye at the postman as Link and Epona trotted up, the boy leaning to the side of the saddle to blink at his girlfriend.

Epona snorted and nudged Malon’s head to get her attention.

“Oh what, Epona!” Malon laughed, reaching up to stroke her hand along the mare’s face. “And that means,”

Link waved at her with a smile.

“Link!” Malon grinned, coming around Epona’s side to meet him. “You’re home!”

Link nodded as he leaned down to kiss her hello, feeling much better now that he was back at the ranch, even if he was still bruised and achy and very possibly bleeding. Malon almost made him feel the way the forest did, like he was home.

He swung over and dismounted the horse, smiling as Malon pulled him into a hug.

Malon then pushed him away and spun him around. Link was confused for about one second before,

“Are you bleeding?”

Link shrugged, not entirely sure himself.

Malon made a strangled noise and then she was dragging him inside. “Honestly, Link. What part of ‘be careful’ do you not understand? You know, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show up here bleeding sometimes,”

Link just smiled at the back of her head, not affected by her berating in the least. She’d lectured him on this before, and would do so again in the future, and he knew she wasn’t as mad as she pretended to be. At this point her yelling was as much standard fare as her patching him up was.

Link hopped up to sit on the kitchen table, watching as Malon dropped the letter on the table next to him before digging out the first aid kit she kept stocked in the room.

In lieu of anything else to look at, Link glanced down at the letter next to him. There was a red seal on the back, not dissimilar to the ones Zelda used when writing letters, though instead of the Hylian crest this seal had the image of a mushroom on it. Flipping it over saw words in neat curling letters in an alphabet Link didn’t recognize. This wasn’t surprising, as up until a year or so ago he still struggled with written Hylian. He set the letter down when he heard a door open in a different part of the house.

“Malon!” Talon shouted through the house. “Did you know Epona was out front? I thought Link had taken her,” he stopped when he turned into the kitchen and saw his daughter standing up with a first aid kit and the mentioned adventurer on his table. Link waved. “Link! You’re back!”

Link nodded, smiling at Talon as Malon opened the first aid kit on the table and started sorting through the contents.

“Link just got back a minute ago,” Malon informed her father as she had Link pull off his tunic. “He’s bleeding still, so I���m going to patch him up before he fills us in on his latest adventure,” she paused, then picked up the letter that she’d received when Link arrived. “Oh, and we got a letter from mom,”

She handed over the letter to her dad, Link watching the paper with curiosity. Malon’s mother? She’d never mentioned her mother to him before, and he’d never pried. He assumed her mother was dead, since she wasn’t around and no one talked about her, but he was also pretty sure dead people didn’t send letters. Pretty sure, not totally sure. Considering what he’d already seen on his adventures, he wasn’t ruling it out as a possibility.

Talon grumbled as he opened it, Malon pulling Link’s attention to her as she went about patching him up as best she could. A few minutes passed, Link occasionally hissing as Malon applied a disinfectant, and then Malon declared him patched up, wandering over to look at the letter over her father’s shoulder.

“What does it say?” She asked, crowding him as Link shrugged back into his tunic.

“It’s an invitation,” Talon handed it to her to read herself. “Some kind of Star Carnival or something, happens every couple of years. She’s invited us to come,” 

Link slowly raised his hand, then waved when he noticed no one was paying attention to him. Talon looked up, then nudged Malon to get her attention. Link waved his hands at the letter then at the two of them, then threw his hands up in confusion. True, he could have signed, but he only thought of that afterwards.

“Oh, right,” Malon bounced over to sit next to him to hold the letter where he could see it. He looked at it, then at her. Malon scoffed. “It’s an invitation from my mother to come to the Star Carnival in the Mushroom Kingdom,”

Link blinked, then sighed ‘Mushroom Kingdom’ back at her with his face twisted up in confusion.

Malon blinked at him, then snapped her fingers. “Oh right, I never told you about my mother, did I? She lives in a neighboring kingdom off to the west, and her and dad had a bit of a falling out a few years after I was born. Dad and Ingo moved to Hyrule, and mom remarried. I have a half sister over there now,”

Link nodded slowly, then waved at the letter again.

“Oh, mom will occasionally invite us back for festivals and stuff. It’s her way of keeping up with us, while respecting that dad moved away for a reason,” she paused, then her head snapped up and turned to him so quickly he had to lean back in order to not get hit. “You should come with us!”

Malon blinked at him, wide eyed and grinning. Link couldn’t possibly say no. He nodded.

Malon made a giddy sound and wrapped Link in a hug, then slid off the table to hand the letter to her father. She came back to grab his hands and pull him off the table too.

“Oh, you’ll love it, Link! The Star Carnival is great, there’s all sorts of games, and events, and everyone comes out for it,” Malon chatteled off, dragging Link with her so she could keep talking at him while she finished up her chores.

Link completely forgot he was supposed to tell Zelda about the temple.

About a week later Link found himself next to Malon in an oddly mushroom shaped carriage her mother sent to collect them for the carnival. Apparently this was normal for these trips, but the fact the carriage had nothing to pull it but still moved confused Link. According to Malon this was how most things worked, but he wasn’t convinced he liked that.

The trip was uneventful, except how Link kept jumping every time the carriage bumped. The little mushroom person (“He’s a Toad, they’re the race that makes up most of the Mushroom Kingdom’s people,” Malon told him) kept up a steady stream of talk, pointing out everything he saw. Link was very glad he’d managed to convince Malon to let him take one of his swords and the mirror shield with him, he felt much more comfortable armed.

His discomfort was overshadowed, however, when the site of the carnival came into view. A big red and white striped tent, with booths and stalls set up throughout the whole grounds. There were people streaming all through the area, humans, toads and some other things as well. Link found it incredible, and Malon had to pull him back into the carriage before he fell out the window.

Eventually, the carriage came to a stop at the entrance to the grounds and the three Hyruleans stepped out. There were a few long moments as Link looked around in awe, and confusion, at some of the things he was seeing. There were moving paintings positioned around the grounds showing some guy who was mostly hat and blaring his voice across the area. Malon called these moving paintings ‘video screens’, and that they were looking at something happening in a different part of the carnival. Link didn’t understand that, but they were moving along fast enough that he didn’t linger on it.

He was snapped out of looking at some star shaped pastries at a loud squeal, head snapping up and on alert. He relaxed when Malon laughed and waved in response.

“Malon!” A higher pitched voice called, belonging to a taller woman with bright blonde hair wearing a very big pink dress and long white gloves. She had a crown on her head. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” Malon laughed as she hugged the other woman. “Why would I miss this?”

Malon then switched to hugging and greeting another woman closer to her age, also wearing a crown but dressed in blue, her hair covering her right eye. A little chubby star creature floated next to her and waved.

Link blinked and watched the exchange, hovering off to the side.

“Oh!” Malon abruptly remembered him and turned to tug him up. “Link, I want you to meet my mother, Queen Peach, and my half sister Rosalina. Mom, Rosy, this is my boyfriend Link,”

Link managed to get himself out of his ‘Malon’s mom is queen???!?’ confusion loop long enough to bow, trying to be polite.

 “Oh no, please don’t. No one has bowed to me in a very long time, and it’s weird to see now,” Queen Peach giggled lightly as Link straightened up, the tips of his ears turning red. “You didn’t mention you had a boyfriend,”

“Uh, surprise!” Malon waved her hands as she gave her mother and sister a sheepish grin. “I have a boyfriend! His name is Link,” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Rosalina extended her hand, and Link took it to shake. 

Link nodded and grinned, then signed back ‘it’s nice to meet you too’ at her when she dropped his hand. Both women blinked at him and for a second he thought he’d done something wrong. He slowly lowered his hands and blinked at them too. Maybe they didn’t speak Hylian sign? He’d never encountered someone who couldn’t understand him, but outside of Hyrule it wasn’t impossible.

“Oh,” Malon jumped in, waving at him. “Link is mute, so he uses sign to talk. I should have mentioned that,”

“Oh,” Queen Peach brightened up again. “Of course. Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Link. I hope you enjoy the carnival,” she signed as she spoke, and Link blinked at her, then matched her grin.

Link nodded happily, letting her know it wasn’t like anything he’d encountered before, but that he was enjoying things so far. 

Queen Peach offered to show them around, which Malon accepted for them, and they went about walking through the grounds while the queen pointed out different attractions. Most of these involved events she called minigames, though a few featured other attractions. Apparently minigames were part of a big event called a Party, which was a competition people could compete in for prizes. Malon had very quietly dissuaded him from participating, as apparently she was worried a few of the minigames might mess with his trauma if he were to play them. Also, apparently Hylians weren’t as durable as the people of the Mushroom Kingdom.

“Oh!” Queen Peach bounced over to one of the video screens and grinned. “It looks like a Party is starting!”

Wandering up to join the toadstool queen, Link blinked up at the moving paintings on the screen, still confused as to how that worked. The man who was mostly hat introduced a group of four, a stout man in red with blue overalls with a very big mustache named Mario, a brunette woman in a yellow dress named Daisy, a stal-like creature that resembled the creatures Malon told him were koopahs who was introduced as Dry Bones, and a tall lanky man in purple who introduced himself as Waluigi. Queen Peach was grinning, and Malon was laughing a little at this.

Link tapped Malon’s shoulder and asked her who those people were.

“Oh, well Mario is mom’s husband, and Daisy is his brother’s wife. Dry Bones is a friend, I think, and Waluigi just shows up for events like this,” Malon explained to him, pointing as she did. “It can be hard to keep track of who’s friendly and who isn’t all the time, things change so often,”

“They don’t change often,” Queen Peach giggled. “The only time anything changes is when Bowser kidnaps me, then we’re briefly enemies, but we go back to being friends when Mario comes to rescue me,”

Link blinked at her, face scrunched up. She talked like this was normal. Apparently, this was quickly explained to him, it was. It was just the relationship those three had. Link wasn’t sure he’d ever understand that concept, but was willing to push it aside for the moment.

They stood and watched the Party, and Link was glad Malon had encouraged him not to try any of the minigames. She was right about a few of them not meshing well with his trauma. He’d actually had to turn away during one because of how much it reminded him of fighting Volvagia in the Fire Temple. It was pretty easy for Malon to work him down again, and he was ever so grateful for her and her patience with him, but they didn’t turn back until after the minigame was over.

Once the Party was over, Queen Peach eagerly dragged them over to something called a warp pad in order to greet her husband when he got there. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

Already waiting at the pad was a very large individual. He looked vaguely like a koopah, but was much bigger, and his shell was studded with spikes. Helpfully, Link’s mind supplied him with the theory that the koopah might be like the Zora, with the ruler being much bigger than the rest of their people, and so this might be their king.

He was right, he’d soon learn.

What had him stopping dead was the man next to him. Almost eight feet tall, bright red hair, black armor. The man was distinctly Gerudo, and looked identical to Ganondorf. Link reached out and grabbed Malon’s arm, pointing out the man to her and signing as fast as she could keep up. Malon had his shoulders in her hands, and was trying to talk to him slowly, the same way she did when working him down from a panic attack or a spike in anxiety. Maybe he was freaking out, he certainly didn’t feel calm. But Ganondorf shouldn’t be here, Zelda’s father had him executed. He shouldn’t be alive, let alone here.

“Is something wrong?” Queen Peach popped up in Link’s peripheral vision, but he was too busy trying not to panic to respond to her.

Thankfully, he had Malon.

“Kind of, Link’s had some, uh, adventures that have messed with his head a little. Bowser’s friend over there happens to look like a man named Ganondorf who tried to kill him more than once, with quite a bit of effort,” Malon rubbed Link’s arms as she spoke, glancing back at him every once in a while. “He’s a little freaked out to see someone who looks so similar, even if this can’t be Ganondorf, since Queen Zelda’s father, the late king, had him executed for trying to kill the royal family and steal Hyrule’s crown about ten or so years ago.”

“Oh, I hadn’t realized,” Queen Peach paused, glancing back at Bowser and maybe-Ganondorf, then back to the two of them. “If you’ll give me a moment,”

She ducked out, and in the meantime Link managed to wrangle his breathing under control. Eventually, he felt confident enough in himself to not immediately try to stab maybe-Ganondorf, but he did pull the mirror shield onto his arm. He felt better when he had it out.

Link specifically kept his shield between himself and maybe-Ganondorf as they approached, Malon keeping a hand on his arm. The conversation petered out as they made it up.

Maybe-Ganondorf clapped his hands together, which had Link pulling up the shield and tensing. The maybe-Ganondorf paused, then spread his hands.

“I understand that someone who looked like me tried to hurt you in the past?” The man, who even sounded like Ganondorf, asked. Link was then hit again with the fact that in this timeline Ganondorf never actually tried to kill him, and even when he had it was both his past and future for a while. He nodded, not willing to dwell on the details of his seven year sleep and subsequent return to childhood. The man grimaced. “I am truly sorry then. My name is Greg, I am a good, friend, of Bowser’s, and I can assure you I am not the same man who wanted to see you come to harm,”

Link narrowed his eyes, but did peek a little further over his shield.

There was a long, tense moment where Link just looked over Greg, trying to decide how he felt about him. After several heartbeats where Link found nothing but honesty, he nodded and lowered the shield some. He didn’t put it away however.

Greg grinned, nodding back.

“You can probably put the shield away now,” Queen Peach offered gently.

Link just tightened his grip on the reflective defense and pulled it closer to himself.

“I don’t think that’s happening,” Malon said gently, squeezing his arm some. “It’s just, well, I’m sure it just makes him feel a little better, what with the situation and all. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never got better around male Gerudo,” she tried to laugh.

“What’s a Gerudo?” Greg asked.

Link dropped the shield to his side and made a face.

(---)

The rest of the day was spent being introduced to a few others of Queen Peach’s friends, and then later avoiding Greg as best he could, and even watching Malon play some of the minigames with her sister.

Link felt a little bad about avoiding Greg, but he looked so much like Ganondorf that he really didn’t trust himself not to hurt the man. Better to just avoid him.

They were invited to spend the night at Peach’s castle, after which they’d return to the carnival the next day.

Somehow, between meeting Mario and crashing for the night, the plumber convinced him to agree to a race.

Link didn’t know how to use any of the racing machines they had.

He spent a great deal of time, at length, bemoaning his impulsivity to Malon, who eventually got tired enough with him to track down her stepfather and get him to teach Link to use one of the machines. Mario, to his credit, was surprisingly understanding and more than helpful.

It didn’t take long to decide Link would do better on a bike than in a kart.

Link also needed to help repair a wall later.

These are related.

“Alright,” Mario rubbed his hands together as he coached Link through the basics. “This-a thing here? That’s-a the brakes. You pull on-a those to slow down. This-a piece you twist, and that makes-a you go! You see?”

Link nodded slowly, pulling on the lever for the brakes and twisting the handle.

“Okay, let’s-a do one lap around the track, and-a see how you do,” Mario nodded back waving at the track. “Let’s-a go!”

Link gave a sharp nod, taking a deep breath as he did. This would be his fifth try at this.

Malon gave him a pair of thumbs up from the sidelines, grinning at him. He was glad she was more confident in him than he was.

He slowly twisted the handle, the machine puttering to life (a phrase Link was distinctly uncomfortable with) and eased forward gently. After a few moments he was increasing speed around the oval track, getting more comfortable with using the bike. He avoided the jumps he could, but managed to not wipe out on the ones he couldn’t. Slowing to a stop in front of Malon and Mario, he felt distinctly proud of himself for not crashing.

Malon jumped up from where she was sitting, clapping happily as she bounced over to hug him.

“You didn’t crash that time!” She grinned. “You’re getting better!”

‘I am,’ Link grinned back, a group of bees set loose in his chest alongside the happiness.

“You’re-a doing so much better! Now, let’s-a maybe think about getting better with the jumps, hm?” Mario clapped as he approached.

Link nodded, signing his response slowly. Mario knew Mushroom Kingdom Sign, but not Hylian Sign, and the two had some differences. This meant communication was slow going, which was partly why Malon was there.

They spent a few more hours, and a lot more crashing, practicing the jumps. Apparently there were a lot of jumps in these races.

By the time they decided to take a break for lunch, Link was covered in bruises but could also reasonably be trusted to not crash every time he attempted a jump, which was much better than he was when they started.

“Oh my! What happened to you?” Peach gasped, looking over the group as they arrived to join the queen and the rest of the family for lunch.

‘Learned the jumps,’ Link signed at her, grinning maybe a bit wider than he needed to.

“The bruises were self-inflicted,” Malon told everyone, dragging Link over to sit between Talon and Rosalina with her. “He’s gotten very good at crashing. And at not crashing, but that skill’s taking longer,”

Rosalina started giggling. “Well, it seems we all have a type,”

Link looked at her in confusion while he let Malon set up plates for them.

“What do you mean?” Peach asked.

Rosalina pointed at her mother. “You married dad, who is prone to extreme spots. And turns sports that aren’t extreme sports into extreme sports. I have never seen someone make golf a full contact sport other than him,” she turned her finger to Malon. “Malon has brought home a boy who is firstly more than willing to participate in said extreme sports, and, Mal you said he works for your Queen, right?”

Malon nodded. “He’s technically part of the royal guard, but really he’s just sent out to go deal with monsters when Her Majesty can’t do it herself. He comes back bleeding a lot,” she sent him a halfhearted glare. He smiled innocently in response.

“Right,” Rosalina nodded. “He’s prone to come back bleeding. And the last time I saw Sammy, she was also bleeding and bruised because she got in a fight with a robot that nearly kicked her, erm, butt,” she cleared her throat and paused until she got a nod from her mother, then continued. “Right, so, my point is we have a type, and it’s the same one,”

“And that type is?” Malon asked.

“People who are prone to getting hurt,”

Link felt mildly like he should be offended by that, but Malon was just nodding along so he decided to drop it. It wasn’t like he could argue, after all.

“Oh, is your girlfriend coming?” Malon asked, handing Link a plate but focusing on her sister.

Link didn’t know what some of the things on his plate were, and lightly poked at one of the mushrooms. This is why he decided to let Malon grab food for him.

“She should be, she told me she’d try at least,” Rosalina nodded. “But, well, you know how busy she can be sometimes. Her job doesn’t allow her a lot of free time,”

Malon nodded. “I get that. It can be hard dating someone who spends so much time away getting in fights,”

She gave Link a side eye and he paused halfway into a bite. Was she mad at him? Or was this one of those joking jab things? He couldn’t quite tell the difference yet. She didn’t seem like she was mad at him. Maybe she was trying to relate to her sister? Wait, what did her sister’s girlfriend do that he’d be a comparison?

He figured he’d ask.

Apparently Sammy was a mercenary (“She fights things for money,” Malon told him. “Kind of like you do, but you work for the Queen and she works for herself,”), and that meant she spent a lot of time away and then coming back injured. Like Link did.

“You’d probably get along with her really well,” Malon offered, subtly adding more of the thing he’d already cleared off his plate to his portion. “You can bond over killing things and getting hurt and worrying your girlfriends about the fact that you’re out killing things and getting hurt all alone,”

Link frowned at her and narrowed his eyes. The worst part was that he couldn’t even argue, she was right. He did spend a lot of time killing things and getting hurt and worrying her, and he did do most of it alone.

That thought sort of made his chest ache. He wouldn’t be alone if he still had Navi, but he hadn’t been able to find her yet. He didn’t want to sour the atmosphere though, so he pushed that thought to the side and shoved Malon’s shoulder in retaliation.

Malon shoved him back, laughing, and Link didn’t bother fighting the grin on his face. It was moments like this that made the trauma and the longing easier to deal with.

They spent some more time practicing the jumps for the race Link had gotten himself roped into and introducing him to the ‘power ups’, and then wandered around the festival grounds until dinner, where they retired to the castle. Link found out quickly that the power ups were made with people way more durable than him in mind. A conversation started about finding an item or something that might help protect him a bit.

Malon had pulled out a health potion she insisted Link drink to heal up the bruises he’d acquired when they heard the, whirring? Link didn’t know what to make of that sound, but he did know he should figure it out.

Which is how Link ended up carefully crossing the entryway of the castle, eyes on the front door, Malon frustrated and following behind him.

Rosalina came barrelling down a stairwell just as Link got to the door, startling him.

“Don’t mind Link,” Malon rolled her eyes. “He’s just never heard the sound of a ship landing before,”

Ship?

“So that was her ship I saw!” Rosalina pushed past Link, who made a strangled noise as she did, and ran out the door.

Link followed, hand on his sword, just in case, and froze.

Someone was standing on the bridge to the castle, wearing dark orange armor and standing easily as tall as a gerudo, maybe taller. Link couldn’t make out much more from that, since the armor covered them head to toe, and their helmet covered their entire head and face. It also looked shinier than any armor he’d ever seen before.

This person caught Rosalina when she threw herself at them, lifting her up and spinning them both around. A sort of mechanical laugh came from the armored person.

Link turned to Malon.

“That’s Samus, Rosy’s girlfriend,” Malon explained. “Come on, let’s go say hi!”

Malon headed down the bridge to where Samus had set Rosalina down. Link stayed where he was, the Luma that followed Rosalina around coming up to float next to him. Luma yawned, and Link offered it a small smile. They must have been getting ready for bed when Samus arrived.

“Link!” He turned at Malon’s shout, seeing her wave at him. “Come meet Samus!”

Samus had pulled off her helmet, revealing tied back blonde hair and pale skin. So, not gerudo, just tall.

He offered Luma a sympathetic shrug and wandered over.

“Link, this is Samus,” Malon waved between them as Link came up. “Samus, this is my boyfriend, Link. He’s mute, so he speaks using sign, but he can hear you just fine,”

“Hello, Link,” Samus offered him a smile, signing in very choppy Hylian Sign as she spoke, and then offered her hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you,”

Link signed slowly as he replied, figuring Samus might appreciate it, and then accepted her handshake.

They didn’t stay standing there for long since it was already getting quite dark. Link offered to help Samus move in some of her things, since she was apparently staying for a few weeks between jobs, which is how he found himself pulling on his golden gauntlets to pick up a very heavy suitcase to carry inside. Samus had the other very heavy case, and Malon and Rosalina helped carry in the rest of it.

Once Samus was settled Malon resumed her crusade to get Link to drink the rest of the health potion.

(---)

The next time Link ran into Samus was right before his race. They hadn’t found something to help with the power ups yet, though he did receive a racing suit to wear in case he crashed.

He stopped mid-sign as something heavy dropped round his neck.

He turned to look down at the item, some kind of medallion on a chain. There was some kind of bird on it, and some kind of writing he couldn’t read, though he didn’t expect to be able to. It didn’t feel magical, but it did sort of, hum in his hands.

He turned around to blink up at the person who dropped in on him. Which turned out to be Samus.

She wasn’t wearing the armor, instead wearing just a skin-tight blue outfit that showed off her abs and the muscles in her arms. She had a lot of muscle. Link started doubting his conclusion that she wasn’t somehow part gerudo.

“I heard you were worried about being durable enough to compete,” Samus explained when Link made a confused motion at the medallion. “That should help,”

‘How?’ Link asked.

“It’s an old bit of tech I picked up but haven’t needed in a long while,” Samus explained.

Link spent a moment finger spelling out that word and trying to remember where he heard it before.

“It’s like magic, but not magic,” Rosalina appeared to lean behind Samus, who towered over her even when she was standing straight. “Sammy you need to remember they don’t even have video screens in Hyrule, you’re going to confuse him,”

“Oh,” Samus blinked, looking between them. “Uh, sorry,”

Link waved her off and assured her it was fine, and then asked for more clarification on the item she just gave him.

“I figured it would solve your durability issue,” Samus explained. “For the race,”

Link nodded, turning it over in his hands for a minute. He tucked it under the suit, the metal oddly warm despite having only just put it on, and thanked Samus for the help.

She promised to be cheering him on, which was met by a huff and light shove from Rosalina, who was also racing.

The medallion did help. It didn’t quite put him on par with the native residents of the Mushroom Kingdom, but it did keep him from getting seriously hurt by some of the more extreme power ups.

Seriously, some of them were just insane.

He didn’t win, but he did come about middle of the pack, which he was quite proud of.

Samus let him keep the medallion, since he could probably get more use out of it than she would, and then Rosalina dragged them all out to get some star pastries to celebrate the fact she won.

Samus ended up far more confident in her Hylian Sign by the end of the day, mostly due to her and Link being dragged about the faire by their girlfriends as they competed in a few minigames. Samus had asked for some help practicing when she noticed Link was a bit uncomfortable with some of the minigames.

Link decided he liked Samus.

He especially liked it when their girlfriends got back and Rosalina had fake-whispered to Malon “Oh no, they’re teaming up!” and all four of them started laughing.

They stayed for a week, the length of the carnival, but they did have to get back to Hyrule. It didn’t help that Sheik had likely tried dealing with everything himself, and as such the kingdom had to deal with the Queen slipping out to fight things.

Once they’d said goodbye, with promises to write between Malon and her family, they climbed back into the little carriage thing they’d arrived in and Link turned to Malon immediately.

‘You’ll bring me with you next time too, right?’

Malon laughed, and agreed to bring him with the next time they were invited.

Neither of them had fully expected Link to get a letter a few weeks after they got home, but sure enough, it was his name written in the alphabet used by the Mushroom Kingdom.

It was decided that they should probably teach him how to read that alphabet after that.

The small package he received from Rosalina a few years later with her and Malon’s grandmother’s engagement ring after he’d proposed with a little note that the ring he’d found was way too flashy was probably to be expected. Even he and Malon had agreed on that the day before. They did switch out the rings, and though the old Queen’s ring was still a bit fancy for a farm girl, it wasn’t going to accidentally blind someone.

He figured he’d pass off Queen Peach’s offer to plan their wedding to Zelda, who had also already decided she wanted to plan it.

Let people who actually knew what they were doing plan it, he’d focus on making sure he was mostly uninjured come the day of. He’d just help with the invitation list.

This, he learned later, was a very smart call.

[lovesanmotion]

Light - Jeong Yunho

summary: cool uncle by day but mafia boss at night, jeong yunho is ready for anything; except for falling in love.

tags: @couchpotatoaniki (yes i am tagging you bcs you blossomed this idea to me hihi)

A deep sigh left Yunho's lips, lighting up his cigarette and sticking it between his lips before releasing pearly white smoke. His once neat suit was now covered in sweat, dust and a trickle of blood from earlier events, singlehandedly killing a mafia group from the neighboring city. He lifted his wrist watch and checked the time - 10:01pm. Sandwiched between his middle and index finger, Yunho raises his cigearette stick onto his lips and puffed out a smoke.

His once cool composure broke when around the corner, the slim but curvy figure of his neighbor - y/n y/l/n came into view. She had her head hung low, shoulders drooping down and walking gloomily home. But Yunho stared at her. Around y/n, he felt like a high school boy who has a crush on her. He didn't also missed the fact that it was too late for y/n to go home. Work hours ends at 5-6pm, but 10? Yunho wondered if you took an overtime.

As y/n passed him by, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Feeling his face heating up. Getting up from the bench, he dropped his stick and stepped on it before following you home. With his hands tucked inside his pockets, Yunho wondered why you ever chose to live in a dangerous city like this. Was it because the rent's cheaper? Or to live close to your office?

He stopped his tracks and hid behind a pole, watching you get inside your home building safely. Watching you get home safely is what Yunho's been doing ever since you moved into the area and with a smile on his face, Yunho walks back home.

As the sun sets into the blue sky, Yunho packs up a lot of candies in his pocket before leaving his home and strolling to the neighborhood park. Clad in a bright red and white striped shirt and pants a bright smile on his face, Yunho would never be mistaken as someone who killed a group of guys last night. The cool breeze swept past him, causing his bangs to fly away.

As he found the children playing merrily and happily in the park, his heart swelled with an overwhelming feeling. How he wished these children would grow up into kind and humble adults. When the children saw him coming up to them, a chorus of "uncle Yunho!" greeted him, followed by all of them running up to him for a hug, some even hugging his legs.

Sitting down on the wooden bench, he gave each child a piece of candy and chocolate. Their little smiles upon tasting the fruity and sweet treats brought a smile on his lips too. However, Yunho mentally did a head count on the children.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. One was missing, and the one missing happened to be his favorite. He was about to open his mouth and ask them where y/s/n when a small but cheerful "uncle Yunho!" greeted him from behind. Turning around, his eye's widened.

His neighborhood crush, holding an ice cream cone with one hand and the other holding hands with his favorite child from the playground.

"Mommy this is uncle Yunho! He's the one who always watches us and gives us candy when we play here!" A deep shade of red plastered on Yunho's cheeks. Slowly he turned away and sunk a bit lower on his seat, feeling himself getting shy. But he was a little surprised to know that y/n has a son.

Yunho watched as y/s/n joined the other kids in the slide and on his left side became occupied by you.

"Doesn't it get a little sad when you watch them slowly grow up? One day they are only crying for attention and the next thing you know you walk with them to preschool." Y/N spoke, taking a lick on the vanilla cone.

"Do you have kids at home?" Yunho shook his head. But he would very much like to have one with y/n.

"I'm y/n by the way!" He looked at the hand extended out for him to shake before looking at your smile. Yunho's heart beated loudly inside his chest, not missing the sight of the ice cream on the corner of your lip. He slowly leaned in and raised his hand, wiping the cream away with his thumb.

"Nice to meet you, y/n. I'm Yunho." He smiled at you, seeing that pink tint across your cheeks. Yunho thanked the gods that this might be the chance for him to properly talk to y/n. He turned to his side and striked up a conversation with you, slightly getting distracted with the way how you lick your ice cream.

"Uh..hello? Earth to Yunho?" Yunho snapped out of his trance and shook his head, batting his eyelashes. Yunho stared at you. "What was that again?"

"I was asking you earlier if you wanted to have lunch with me and y/s/n. Think of it as a thank you for watching over my son." Turning his head, he saw the children leave one by one until it was your son left sitting in the swing.

"I-I would love to!" He blurted out, maybe a little too loud. Yunho suddenly backed away, suddenly feeling shy but he only found y/n chuckling at him.

"That was cute. Anyways, let's me show you where I live." As Y/N got up, so did he. He took the pleasure of carrying y/s/n in his arms as he followed you to your place, he had to pretend he didn't know where you lived. How was he going to explain that he has been following you for months already?

"Welcome to our place!" Spoke Y/N in a cheerful tone. The place didn't look half bad. As he sets y/s/n down and removes his shoes by the doorway, he took in the appearance of your place. It isn't big nor small, perfect for two people living, light wooden floors, cream colored walls, yellow and green cupboards and a mini bookshelf thats occupied by books about numbers, letters, alphabets and story books.

"This is a nice place you've got" Yunho says, sitting down on the couch only to be sunk lower as he didn't noticed how the couch was small.

"I guess I was lucky to find this one. More greenery in the province than just seeing buildings in the city." Y/N spoke, Yunho watched her enter the kitchen. He got up and excitedly followed her like a high school boy following his crush around school.

"What are you going to make there?" He asks as he stood behind Y/N making her jump a little. Yunho didn't realized how close he has gotten to her, but he felt like his heart would burst at how small she is close to him.

"Does pasta sound nice?" Y/N tilted her head to the side. If only his mornings were spent this close to y/n, Yunho would be in heaven already.

As Yunho was about to say something, in came little y/s/n holding his school bag.

"Mommy, can you help me with my homework?"

Two heads snapped to look at y/s/n who stood by the doorway of the kitchen.

"Your mom would love to!" Yunho smiled at y/s/n, held y/n by her shoulders and pushed her out of the kitchen despite her many protests against it. Yunho opened the fridge to check what ingredients were available, he grabbed whatever he needed and placed them on the counter and started cooking.

It was only like last night, he was using the very same knife to slice throats and now he's slicing meat with the same knife. But Yunho was only occupied by the merry thought of cooking for his crush.

After half an hour passed, Yunho beautifully plated three pasta bowls on the table. He gave himself a pat in the back for doing an excellent job and was about to call y/n and y/s/n to eat when he heard some talking.

"Mommy do you like uncle Yunho?" A small voice, y/s/n, as Yunho thought. His heart raced upon hearing this kind of conversation. There was a moment of silence, Yunho was fidgeting to know your answer.

"Mommy can uncle Yunho be my dad?" Yunho clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. But there it was again, that silence.

"Let's see, y/s/n. Want to see uncle Yunho if he's done?"

Yunho started to get up from his spot but hit his knee in the process, an inaudible sound came out of his mouth and suddenly the door swung open. Y/N and Y/S/N stared at him with a blank yet confused looks on their faces.

"Uh..lunch is ready!" Yunho smiled and instantly stood up from the ground. As he lead them to the kitchen, he was proud to see their expressions and sat down, paying attention to y/n's reaction before eating.

"So what do you do, Yunho?" Y/N asked while twirling pasta with her fork.

Yunho racked up his brain to think of what should he say. But he choked up in between.

"I'm unemployed at the moment" He says. There was no way he is ever going to tell that he kills people, raids warehouses and factories and regulates drug deals within in and out of the country. "What about you? What do you do for a living?" Yunho gulped the food down his throat before facing you.

"I, uh...I just work at, at a very boring corporate office. They don't pay much."

"Is that why you do overtime and get home late at night?"

"What?"

"What?"

Yunho stared at y/n wide eyed. That was wrong of him suddenly mentioning it to you. He shook his head and carried on the conversation by changing the topic.

For the whole afternoon, Yunho stayed with Y/N and Y/S/N, watching kids movies while having a snack. Y/S/N falling asleep in the middle of the movie. Yunho took the pleasure of letting y/s/n sleep on his chest, he could get used to being a househusband. With the sun setting, Yunho thought it was best for him to go home. But was stopped by y/n to join them for dinner. On the outside, Yunho thanked you. But on the inside, Yunho was giggling.

He cooked once more in the kitchen, clogging out y/n's protests. Dinner became a happy meal as all three of them became full. While y/n was cleaning up in the kitchen, Yunho asked permission if he could take y/s/n out for a walk, promising he'd be home by 8pm.

Yunho took y/s/n to the convenient store, handing him a whole bar of chocolate in his small hands. But the little boy stared at him.

"But mommy says I can't have too much sweets" the small boy pouted.

"But your mom isn't here right? This'll be our little secret. You and me." Yunho grinned at the small boy who flashed a toothy smile in front of him.

"Uncle Yunho do you like my mommy?"

"Very much." Yunho suddenly stopped as he looked back at the child with him, now grinning at him.

"Okay, that's another secret between us. Don't tell your mommy about that too okay?" The small boy nodded his head quickly, Yunho held his hand and walked back home with him. Unaware of two eyes following them as they head back.

(gif is not mine! credits to the rightful owner!)

[giorno-plays-piano]

Crimson Gods

Pairing: vampire!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: non-con, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of death and suicidal thoughts, allusion to breeding.

Words: 2362.

Summary: Living in the world where most lands are governed by the Noble, ancient vampires who shed human blood simply for their own amusement, you try leading a quiet and secluded life along with your mother. Sadly, you aren’t prepared when a vampire comes to your town.

P.S. When I was younger, I really, really loved Vampire Hunter D. I watched the movie again yesterday, and here’s the result ahahah. 

______________

It was way past midnight, but you couldn't force yourself to sleep, tossing and turning in your comfy bed while thinking of your travel tomorrow. You were supposed to leave the town for the first time in years to visit your grandmother who lived in the Northern Frontier Sector, and now you dreamt of how you were going to embrace her, kiss her cheeks despite her scolding you for not behaving properly in public. You hadn't seen her in 7 years. After the incident, you had never even once left the town, and your grandmother could hardly travel so far due to her age. Of course, you kept exchanging letters, but how could a cold letter, though written with great respect, replace a live communication?

While you kept wondering how your encounter would go, all of a sudden it felt cold under your cozy cotton blanket, and you reluctantly got up to take a huge comforter out of your heavy wooden chest. Why was it freezing tonight even with the windows closed? You were just in the middle of September. To be honest, you hardly remembered the last time the weather was so bad as you wrapped a comforter around your trembling shoulders, thinking whether you have to take your winter nightgown instead of light muslin one you were wearing now.

Throwing a glance at your window, you saw the frosted panes and furrowed your brows, refusing to believe it. Dear Lord, you lived in the Western Frontier Sector, not far to the North! Was it really going to snow out of nowhere tonight? As you moved closer to look at an empty street, you realized that a huge cross on top of a building on the other side started crumpling with a disgusting sound as if it were made of paper, not pure silver to protect citizens from the creatures of the night. Several crosses on the buildings down the street had been destroyed, too. Quickly, you looked down only to find the flower beds withering within seconds despite your beautiful roses blooming just a couple of hours ago. Now they all turned black.

You stilled on the spot, unable to believe your eyes and covering your ears from that horrifying noise. You had only seen something like that once, and it was the time when most villagers had already been dead, turned into beasts without a soul who craved for blood as much as their masters did. That night you had lost your beloved father as you fled your house in a rush, just a little child back then, and, once you arrived in the town, had never even once left your new home.

The crumpled crosses, dead flowers and a sudden temperature drop could mean only one thing: a vampire had come to the town. It wasn't some upyr, oh no, it was one of the Nobles, maybe even an Elder if you were unlucky.

Dear Lord, what a Noble wanted in a peaceful town like this? There were neither treasures nor mechanisms of the ancient, nothing that could potentially interest a Noble. Except that they might be simply eager to shed human blood for their own amusement...

Before you screamed at the top of your voice to wake up everyone around, you heard the sound of a large mirror in your room breaking, and then felt somebody's strong grip on your throat despite no one being in front of you. The world turned black before you uttered a single word.

_______________

Moving a heavy crimson curtain a bit so you could look out the window, you gasped, watching the corn fields far beneath looking like neat pieces of cloth. The view was incredible! You had never seen anything like this before, though you certainly didn't remember travelling in such fine carriage ever before either. It was truly stunning, made of black steel, shining in the sunlight as if it only been made yesterday. Steven laughed when you said it out loud, explaining that this carriage had been more than a century old. Apparently, the Nobility's carriages were miraculous since you couldn't find even a single scratch on the surface.

"Be careful, sweetheart." The man behind your back said, gently bringing you closer to him and further from the window, curtain falling back and hiding the two of you from the outside world. "Night does not fall yet."

"Forgive me my curiosity. I have never seen anything as magnificent." You smiled sheepishly at the handsome blonde-haired, blue-eyed man in a long black cape with red lining.

He let out a low chuckle, taking your hand and kissing it briefly while you forgot how to breathe for a second, deeply embarrassing by such outpouring display of affection. You lead a rather quiet secluded life in the town, pretty much never being around men of your age: your mother was going to choose a respectable husband for you herself, so you never worried about it before. Now, however, you felt ashamed for being so close to a man despite loving him dearly. Oh, what would your mother say if she saw you now? Wouldn't she be worried? Would she approve of your marriage to a No-

You blinked as you stared at the handsome man's pale face, feeling all your worries fading away. As long as you stayed with the love of your life, nothing else mattered, right?

"If that is what you wish, we will travel by air a lot more right after I present you at Western Frontier Court, sweetheart." His deep, silky voice made you let out a nervous chuckle as you felt your cheeks growing hot. "My, aren't you adorable?"

"Please, Steven, stop it!" You furrowed your brows as he grinned at you, baring his sharp fangs you paid no attention to. "I cannot believe I am getting married to you so soon. It feels... strange. A little unsettling."

"And why is that?" There was some wariness to his voice.

"It's just... I have never imagined myself being married to anyone. Surely, I thought of having a family at some point, but it was so distant. I have never even pictured myself close to a man, let alone a High Lord like you." You admitted honestly, biting your lower lip and averting his gaze. "You have never been married before, too, have you? Aren't you frightened even the slightest bit?"

"A little." He answered too soon, yet you disregarded it as well. "But I have no doubts we will make a good couple, sweetheart. I will cherish you like no other man ever would."

Embarrassed to the point your face was on fire, you decided to drop it, not knowing how a nobleman like Steven Grant Rogers could have an audacity to say such things. He was completely shameless! You hoped he was going to be more reserved while presenting you at court; you pictured your grandmother fainting if she heard him speaking like now.

What was Western Frontier Court like? You had never been there, not than any human ever could: as far as you knew, not even all vampires could serve the Nobility living in the high castle surrounded by mountains. You heard its peaks were covered with snow all year round.

"Have the king ever visited your castle?" You suddenly asked, back to your curious self.

Steven's face became even paler. "He did on several occasions, but it was a long time ago way before I was even born. I have only seen him once, and I do not think I will ever forget this encounter."

"Oh, is he as frightening as the legends say?"

"You cannot describe it with words, sweetheart. But do not be worried, he had been asleep for more than a thousand years now, and he surely won't wake up just to attend some Noble's marriage." A faint smile twisted Steven's lips as he drop a soft kiss to your forehead. "Actually, please do not refer to him as a king. The Nobles call him the Great One."

"Oh, I see. Thank you." Nodding, you turned your face back to the window covered by a crimson curtain, biting your lip again. "Can I watch the sunset a little? I won't be long, I promise."

"As you wish, sweetheart. Please come back to me once you are done, it is going to be a long night."

Gesturing to the large black coffin laying in the middle of your carriage, the man brushed his cold soft lips against your cheek and got up from his seat, smiling at you watching him. You remembered being very unhappy once you learnt there was only one coffin: you had never thought you would lay close to your betrothed with your head on his chest before your marriage. How terribly bold it was of Steven to make you sleep so close to him! However, you were content he had never even once tried touching you inappropriately, always treating you with respect: he said he admired your purity and innocence while not many Noble women were bothered by them.

Once he got inside the coffin, you lifted the curtain again, squinted as rays of bright light pierced the darkness of the carriage. Oh, how incredibly beautiful was the sunset in front of you. You had seldom seen such lovely sight as this. Would you miss the sun once you reach the high castle? You surely would, you thought. Hopefully, your betrothed would keep his promise to travel with you, and when he fell asleep during the day, you would walk in daylight all by yourself.

As you kept staring at the bright sky coloured in orange and pink, all of a sudden you thought why did you have to live in the high castle with Steven while your home was far away from the white mountains, in a little human town where you spent the last several years. Oh, right, you were engaged to the Overseer of the Western Frontier Sector, the highest Noble guarding the lands where you were born and raised. He was a peerless warrior and a fierce leader, a vampire respected by other Nobles.

A vampire? Steven was a vampire? Why would you be engaged to a vampire, let alone the Noble? The Overseer of the lands you were born and raised, the one who had taken advantage of those poor humans living in the Western Frontier Sector and let other Nobles ravage your cities and villages, destroying everything on their way.

You were engaged to the vampire overlord, a ruthless, cold-blooded being who could wipe out every human in these lands if he desired so. No, he was not your betrothed, the man you promised to marry willingly. He was the one who kidnapped you from your own bed at night, casting some spell over you to make you forget who you were.

You clamped a hand around your mouth to stop the pathetic sounds you were making as you cried, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. Dear Lord, why was the Overseeker doing it to you? What could he gain from this cruel game? Seemingly nothing, except for having some fun with a silly human girl. But that what the Nobles were doing once they got bored, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction, you thought, happy you were given a chance to escape - even if it cost you your own life, it was still for the better.

"The Overseeker of the Southern Frontier Sector did, not that I expect you to know. Now, please, come back here. You had enough time watching the sunset."

You couldn't believe your eyes, watching him say it with such confidence. Was he willing to keep playing his twisted game even when his sweet facade fell?

"Why do you pretend as if my death matters to you? You will kill me soon anyway. Does it bring you so much pleasure to murder one more pathetic human?"

"I won't kill you, sweetheart. It has never been my intention."

There was something to his voice, some emotion you struggled to describe that made you feel bitter and regretful. Was it all truly going to end like this? You were so young, supposed to have your whole life ahead of you, now faced with a choice to either let a vampire consume you or jump out the carriage and fell to your death.

"Than what was it? I assume you have been living for more than thousands of years. Aren't you a little too old for playing these games still?" You chocked on a sob, barely containing your tears as you trembled in front of the Overseeker.

"I am not playing a game." He admitted tiredly, suddenly taking the black glove off his hand. "All I wish for is a loving wife who can bear my children and bring peace to my lands. I have been wandering human cities for a great while before I found you, strong enough to carry a dampiel after a few genetic enhancements. Please, do not struggle. I have not come to make you suffer eternal torment."

For a couple of seconds you stared at him with your mouth slightly open, unable to utter a single word. You had expected the vampire to say anything but this. Was it still a game? Now you hoped it was because even being drained till the last drop of blood was better than carrying a dampiel, a child of both vampire and human, feared and loathed greatly by both races. When you recovered, however, you quickly turned the door handle and pushed the door, willing to wait no longer.

But the door did not give to your pressure. To your horror, it stayed still as if it were a solid piece of steel.

Feeling the iron grip of the Overseeker's fingers on you shoulder, you yelped as he dragged you back to his coffin with force, closing the lid before you had a chance to escape. The next second his fingers were on your neck, suffocating you before you lost consciousness just like the night when Steven Grant Rogers kidnapped his human beloved.

______________________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @lovelydarkdaydream @ninefuckingoneone @jaysayey @megzdoodle​

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Rafael 🥺🥺🥺

CW: Pet whump, referenced implied noncon/dubcon, captivity, isolation, intimate whumper, creepy whumper

Follows this piece where Chris overcomes his freeze response to try and help someone

It’s 2:30 in the morning. The house is cool and silent and still around him as he stands in the master’s library, where the only phone he’s ever seen that wasn’t the small, slim things his master and mistress keep in their pockets or purses or always on themselves.

He’s not allowed in here, books make his head hurt and we wouldn’t want to give you wrinkles in that pretty face from all that squinting, Raf. But he’s here, anyway.

They’re asleep, down the hall, in their room. The both of them, the mistress breathing low and deep, the master softly snoring. He can hear them from here, and it’s a soothing comfort to be able to track their sleep even now.

His heart pounds while he stares at the phone, dressed only in the loose, slightly sheer black pants he’s allowed to wear to sleep, when they have done with him for the night, when he is no longer between them, taken and taking, eyes closed and body repeating patterns while his mind goes somewhere else.

Red bruises darken around his neck and shoulders, the lipstick at least washed away and leaving only blood vessels burst under his pale skin to color it. She loves to leave the lipstick there, and they love to see who can mark him more, counting up the new places, telling who did what by the smear of Rouge, or Addict, or whatever other name she gave to the slim little tubes that littered her vanity. 

He lays back for their inspection, smiles up at the mirror they’ve had fixed to the underside of the canopy over their bed, and drifts away while they laugh over and around him. The loser makes the drinks, after, and he gets one, too.

Whiskey and honey-syrup with rosemary, washed down, but the taste never leaves, not all the way. He tastes them when he falls asleep.

If he falls asleep.

Now, he’s clean except for the way he always feels a slight, nearly invisible layer of grime on his skin, and his skin is unmarked except for the bruises they will carefully cover with the turtlenecks he wears in the morning.

He’s clean... except that he is never, ever clean. 

His name is Rafael.

Something else was his name, once upon a time. Some other blend of letters, some other murmured syllables spoken on someone else’s tongue. He knows that much - they tell him far more than he has ever asked to know. 

They found him, Master and Ma’am, hungry and dirty and cold. You were so desperate for a hot meal, someplace to sleep, you told us you’d do anything. They offered him safety, and someone to care for him, and he got into their car. It’s what he wanted. You wanted to leave it all behind, you know. We gave you the chance. 

We offered you a choice, and it wasn’t like anyone else was going to help you, Raf. You didn’t have a soul in the world who even gave a damn if you were alive.

He signed up for this.

Didn’t he?

The voice of the man in the museum comes back to him with his scarred face and soft green eyes. Somebody loved you. They lie to us. Pushing the plastic feather into his hand, whispering numbers to him. Rafael’s neck aches under his collar, throbs with the blood pooling from their teeth tearing at him and telling him he likes it, and he’s never thought to argue before.

But he doesn’t.

On his own, he dreams about softness, he closes his eyes and runs fingertips along his own palm and imagines it’s someone who simply wants to hold his hand. Alone, Rafael thinks about a dim sweet warmth, even as they tell him he wants their too-bright light baring him to hands and teeth like fang and claws, to desire that digs deep and draws blood. 

Somebody loved you.

It seems impossible.

They lie to us all.

In the dark of night, with the barest hint of moonlight coming through the great windows along the wall, the saturated purple of the feather is a cool, faded lavender. Rafael rubs his thumb along it, following an instinctive movement. He can see, he thinks, the faintest hint of indents in it, like the man he saw at the museum had been chewing on it. Marks like teeth, like the marks on his side, the way they laugh on either side of him, his mistress murmuring, they could identify us with dental records by that one if we dumped him, darling, and his master kissing her, then him, then laughing too loud, laughing harder when Rafael flinches from the sound and the fear of being abandoned.

They’d found him abandoned and taken him in. They gave him a home and he traded away whatever life he’d had to get it, willingly, happily, wanting to be loved and kept and held. 

But... what if that wasn’t what happened, just because they said it was?

Somebody loved you.

He moves closer to the phone, letting his fingers trail over the cool dark plastic, smooth and shining in the dark. His eyes close, and he breathes, in and out. The room smells like old books, and the leather of the chairs in here. Like a candle his mistress insists on lighting once a week in the room. 

When they have him in here, he’s blindfolded to keep him from seeing the books. 

The man in the museum had been one, he knew it instantly. No collar, though, and not with an owner, but he still... Raf had known. He always knew, and when he’d seen the scar, he’d known that the man wasn’t one, not any longer. 

Whispering to him that there is another way to live.

Rafael takes a deep breath, picks up the phone, and swallows back the burst of fear. It’s just a few numbers. It’s just a few words. He can always choose not to go, if they come. He can sign up for this again.

He can take it back.

5. 5. 5. 7. 2. 3. 3.

The click of the little dialpad as he touches the numbers seems impossibly loud, but with each pause between he listens, and he can still hear them sleeping. He’s okay. He’ll be okay. 

It’s just some words, a number, a whisper, a plea.

Did somebody love me once, in a way that wasn’t like this?

The phone settles cold against his ear, and he grips the feather in his hand like the medallion of a saint.

He doesn’t know saints. He doesn’t know why that thought came to mind. 

Holy St. Anthony, gentlest of Saints, your love for God and Charity for His creatures, made you worthy, when on earth, to possess miraculous powers. Encouraged by this thought, I implore you to-

“Hello?”

Rafael nearly forgets how to speak, between his shock that anyone picked up and the sudden burst of sharp pain that wipes the momentary prayer from his memory entirely. “H-Hello. I-I... I was, I am.. um. I n-need...”

“Do you need help?” The voice is low and compassionate, deep and with an accent he can’t place. 

They’ll help you, the man from the museum said.

“Please,” Rafael whispers. “Please, I need-... I need help. I, I need... I need out.”

“I’m going to trace your call,” The voice says quietly. “For the purpose of this conversation, you can call me Heather. I’m a liberated pet and I’m here to help. Do you need a rescue?”

Rafael feels tears threatening to fall, and he clutches the feather as tightly as he can. “I don’t know. It’s not-... It’s not, they don’t-... I’m n-not hurt, I just-”

“You don’t have to be in physical pain,” Heather says, quiet and certain, “to be wounded. I need about sixty-seven seconds more to get your location. Do you want to leave?”

No one’s ever asked.

He swallows. “Y... yes. I don’t want to be-... to do this anymore.”

“Okay. It’s okay, this is what we do. What’s your name and designation?”

That’s easy. He answers thoughtlessly, memorized words falling off his lips like petals from a dying flower. “Rafael, my number is 453266, designation Romantic, Facility 012.”

There’s a pause. “You’ve come a long way.”

He swallows “H-Have I?”

“I’ll explain later. It could take us up to fourteen days to effect a rescue. Will you be reasonably physically safe until that time?”

There’s a scrape in the hallway, a footfall. Rafael’s breath catches as he realizes he forgot to keep listening for their breathing, checking that they were asleep. “Oh, no. I have to go. He’s-... I have to go. Please, please find me, please-”

“I’m killing this number as soon as you hang up. It’s okay. We’ve got you. We just need a little time-”

He drops the phone back into the cradle right as his master appears in the doorway, leaning against it on one arm. His eyes glitter dangerously with reflected moonlight.

“Raf? What was that?”

Rafael swallows, lifting his chin as he turns, putting his practiced flirtatious smile on his face. Head tilt, half-lidded eyes. Let the look of sleepy affection wipe away the terror still crawling over his skin. His master moves towards him, naked but he can do more damage naked than Rafael could do in a set of armor.

“I had a-... a nightmare, a false memory,” Rafael says quickly, and steps to his master, feigning gratitude, warmth, happiness at seeing him. “I don’t know what happened. I w-woke up with the phone at my ear.”

“Hm. You haven’t sleepwalked in a long time.” His master moves past him, looking down at the phone, then back up at Rafael. In the darkness it all seems amplified, every threat a near-murder, a knife held precariously against his throat. “What did you dial?”

“I-I don’t know,” Rafael lies, clinging to him, every inch the pet scared of himself, not of the master. “I just heard beeping when I-... woke up, I guess.”

There’s a pause, and the master hums, picking the phone up, hitting three buttons Rafael doesn’t look at, but he knows - he’s having the phone redial the last number called. Raf closes his eyes, and he prays, to nothing and no one and maybe just to the dark of night itself. 

He exhales when the only sound is a woman’s tinny voice stating this number is not in service at this time. 

His master chuckles, sounding relieved himself. “Well, no harm done, I suppose. But we’re going to have to tie you to the bed at night again, aren’t we? Keep you from wandering.”

“Is that a promise?” Rafael’s voice is shaking but he drops it to low and husky to cover it, his heart pounding and body frozen as he turns into his master’s body, tipping his head for a kiss. 

He hates being tied to the bed. 

You love this, Raf. You told us it was your favorite way to work when we found you. But it’s not work anymore, is it? It’s your life.

He hates it.

The man’s voice in his mind again as he slides the feather into his pocket. They lie to all of us.

Nobody loved you, that’s why we had to take you in.

Somebody loved you. 

“Honestly, Raf, is that the only thing you think about?” His master’s tone is playful, flirtatious. His voice dips lower and Rafael keeps his smile firmly in place, widens it a little. 

Inside his head, he thinks, you wanted me to only think about this. I know I didn’t start this way.

Further back, far enough inside he knows it will never show on his face, he thinks, I thought about dinosaurs instead today. I thought about the feather, and the number, and I thought about how maybe you’re the one lying, and I was the one telling the truth.

I just can’t remember what truth I told.

“Back to bed for you, I think,” His master murmurs, presses a kiss over a bruise. Rafael shivers and pretends it’s from desire and not from the ache. “I’ll get out your favorite ropes.”

He hates the fucking ropes.

“Perfect,” Rafael says, and his voice comes out smooth, and soft. “You know I love the ropes.”

-

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @wildfaewhump

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 33

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: assault, swearing, trauma, tones of ptsd 

A/N: this chapter is heavy with prominent mentions of assault. if that triggers you, please skip this chapter. 

NEXT CHAPTER

She stood in the middle of the set, surrounded by bright lights as the cast and staff moved around to change the setting of the set design. There was nothing she could really feel and she felt herself almost out of her own body, the lack of sleep weighing not only on her eye bags but on her brain and ability to properly function. She felt she was watching herself out of her own body, watching as she dragged herself from scene to scene, almost changing into a completely different person when the cameras were on. It was mechanical, an ability of someone who’d been acting since she was a child. She slipped in and out of her own consciousness, almost knowing everything with a sharp eye but ignoring it. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t sleep. Any news that appeared regarding HYDRA or criminal organisations were always a trigger to keep her up at night. The silence itself was a trigger. Every blank letter she would get would send her into a spiral, every knock on her door. Wherever she turned, either Bucky or however haunted her seemed to surge. Except this time, Bucky wasn’t around. Sharon was but she couldn’t help to think something was off. 

Two weeks. 

Something was off.

She was no super soldier and she was no agent so all she could do was merely put a smile and say “nothing” whenever they asked her if something was wrong. Not that they asked, she was a good actress after all so to everyone else, even Sharon, she was peachy keen, with the same shy smile she always had on set. After all, this was the place she could be anyone but herself. Anna, the character she was playing, was so far removed from her own personality that whatever she felt seemed to dissipate mid takes. Yet, there was no comfort in becoming someone else, becoming someone who was so one dimensional she’d rather be back in her mind. Wherever she turned, she felt trapped, shackled by the weight of her own thoughts. There was nothing she could do. 

     - CUT! It’s a wrap everyone. - the bright lights dimmed as a ‘pop’-like sound removed her from her own dazed consciousness. She clung onto her own arms, turning around with a quickened heartbeat which slowed down as she realised it was merely a bottle of champagne which was now being half poured into flutes and half poured onto the floor. Yet, all she could hear was a buzzing in her ears.

She stood in the middle of everything, almost like a movie shot. Things moved fast but she knew they moved slowly and she remained there, in the middle of the shot, listening to everything as if she were underwater. Everyone was celebrating, drinking and laughing out loud but she couldn’t hear anything. Just a buzz. That’s all she could hear. The buzz and the sound of the wind bustling her dress. 

     - Y/N? - Sharon moved through the crowd, knowing way too well what was happening. She had seen it before. She carefully put her hand just slightly over her shoulder, not touching her but anyone would sense it. - Can you breathe in and out?

    - Huh? - she was once again pulled out into her body and suddenly everything was just too fast, everything was just too loud as if someone had pressed the forward button on an old VHS tape. Her eyes moved side to side as her own hand pressed against her chest, a forceful reminder to feel her own heart beat. - Yeah, hum, I just need a break.

    - That’s fine. - Sharon nodded her head and started to guide her out the middle of the set; however, a much familiar sound of heels hitting the gravel halted those plans. The she was, always board in hands. - Move. 

    - You’re needed. - Ms. Olson pointed at the actress in front of her with her pen. - The director wants to speak to you. 

    - Yeah, that’s fine. - Y/N pulled a fake smile. There was no use putting a fight, she had already done so and something told her not to stray too far off the cage they had put her in. She knew that with Bucky gone and Sharon under the cover she was one of her old university classmates which had settled down in New York as a stage manager, she had no protection, at least no personal protection. What she had belonged to the agency and if she toed out of line, she’d be left to fend for herself. She could barely look at the mail without shivering, much less fend for herself. She was a short woman, anyone taller than her could easily overpower her and that was the sad truth.

Once again, she found herself out of her body, watching as she walked the gravel with Ms. Olson to the trailer belonging to the director. Y/N was tired, she had no intention of wanting to speak to anyone, all she wanted to do was try to sleep yet here she was knocking on the door of the man she had learned to stray away from. The door was opened by his assistant, a small woman barely in her twenties, couldn’t be much younger than 5 years from Y/N, who had an almost meek look to her, hunched back even. Before Y/N could ask her what was wrong, the director, Mr. Powell, was already yelling out for the assistant to leave and for Y/N to come already.  The girl stepped out and closed the door behind Y/N, leaving the two of them inside his trailer. It was grimy with papers and open bottles everywhere and the stench of smoke was thick in the air. It was almost comical, cartoonish even how it looked as if a cartoon, over exaggerated version of a 70′s movie director. 

   - Sit down. - he pointed to the spot on the brown couch near him. She was hyper aware of everything as she sat down on the couch, yet living a big space between the two of them. - You almost ruined my shot today with those puffy eyes, darling. 

    - I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been having some personal issues, I thought they would’ve de puffed by today. 

    - I’ve heard. - he took a puff of his cigarette which laid in the middle of his calloused fingers, laying against the couch rest as if he were on top of the world, when he was merely as much of an unknown as she was. He was no famous director, he wasn’t even a good one. - I thought you were missing your shadow. Where is he anyway? Lost his mind again? You know, darling, I’m always worried about you. I mean once a killer, always a killer, right?

    - ... You’re pathetic. - it came out of her lips without her even noticing it. She stared at him with a lack of respect few people saw yet as quickly as she said those words, she was pined down against the brown leather of the couch. She could feel the cracked leather against the skin of her neck. His hand gripped her throat, hard, cutting her air flow and keeping her against the couch cushions. 

   - You ungrateful little bitch. - Y/N started kicking her feet, trying to somehow roll over on the floor. - I gave you the best role, put up with you not losing any weight and looking like any average shopping girl and how do you repay me? By being a whore? 

She continued to kick her legs up in down so fast it had already started to tire her muscles. Her hands clawed at his face, leaving scratch marks which were sure to remain red and angry on his cheeks. 

   - I’m gonna give you some advice, darling. You wanna get ahead? Start whoring yourself for someone other than your boyfriend.

His hands left her neck and he returned to sit down where the place where he had been, as if he hadn’t just chocked her against the couch pillows. Y/N got up from the couch and bolted towards the door, pulling it open and climbing down the stairs, noticing the assistant was in front of them. Same meek look, yet Y/N continued to charge away from the set villa until she stopped on the sidewalk, sitting down as she watched the traffic in front of her. The weather was cloudy and dark yet somehow the cars lights made it brighter and it hurt her head. It hurt her head too much. The smell of fog and the bright lights hide her away as she tucked her head in the middle of her knees, chest going up and down yet no tears rolled down her face. 

     - Hey ... - Sharon sat by her side. - Let’s go home, yeah? 

The fog merely thickened and lowered, covering the whole of New York in a somber mood. The wind itself was also fast and freezing and as Bucky stepped inside government headquarters, the mood as just as somber. The lights were yellow yet everything had a weird green-like tinge. Everyone was mechanically induced into their own work yet he was hyper aware of everything. Two weeks. Two weeks to bring in a HYDRA general and a senator which were sure to buy their own bail and go back and all he could say and think was he was tired. James “Bucky” Barnes was tired and worn down. 

He strutted towards the interviewing room where Agent Cox and Doctor Raynor were. It was nothing new to him, it was always the same; he would return from whatever assignment had been given to him and be questioned on it by whatever agent was looking over the case and then had a “therapy” session with Doctor Raynor. It was never to check if he was alright, or at least it barely was. They just wanted to see him, to see the Winter Soldier was still inactivated. He understood that yet that didn’t mean he particularly liked it.

He told the agent all he wanted know, from where he had found the two he had just brought in, to some background info. There wasn’t much to say and when he was done, he was left with Doctor Raynor. He stood against his metal chair, convinced to get this over and done with so he could go back to Brooklyn. Back to her. 

    - How are you, James?

    - I’m good, doc. Can I go now? 

    - James, that’s not how this works. You should know that by now. - she opened her notebook. Great. - Tell me about the mission.

    - It was an extraction, mission. No one got hurt. - lies. He had gotten hurt, he had taken a pretty harsh blow to his cheekbone which was developing into a nasty purple bruise, yet, that was not who they were questioning him about. If he had gotten hurt, it didn’t matter. - No nightmares either. 

    - Are you lying to me, James?

    - No, I just want to get out of here. I haven’t seen my girlfriend in two weeks. 

    - Tell me about your girlfriend. - she closed the notebook, almost as if this was off book yet he knew that nothing was off book. Not for him. Everyone has the right to privacy but the Winter Soldier. - What’s her name? 

    - Y/N. 

    - How old is she? 

    - Younger than me. 

    - No need to be hostile, James.

    - No need to ask me about my love life, doc. 

    - Any big fights? Any ... problems regarding your condition? Healthy sex life?

    - Are you asking me if I abuse my girlfriend? - his blood boiled yet he tried to keep cool. He knew an anger outbreak would only keep him in this session for longer than he wanted. Despite this, he chose to get up and leave the room. 

He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear those accusations, he didn’t even want to think about it. Bucky did not like the idea of the Winter Soldier and Y/N together. He didn’t want to merge those two worlds together. The Winter Soldier was someone, a part of him which he didn’t fully understand and he didn’t want Y/N together with it. No, Bucky wanted Y/N to only see whatever bit of kindness, whatever few bits of goodness lied within him. He didn’t want her to the Winter Soldier’s girlfriend. He knew he didn’t deserve her and that title only further reminded him. 

He continued to be lost in his head, those questions running through his mind as he unlocked the door only to be met with Sharon pointing her gun at him. She lowered her gun once she realised who it was that stood in the entrance, putting the gun back in between her jeans and her shirt. 

   - Two weeks? That was long. 

   - Not my fault, Sharon. - Bucky dropped his duffel bag to the floor. - How is she?

   - Not good. - Sharon crossed her arms. - You have to tell her things, James. C’mon, you can do that with me and Steve and maybe even Sam. We know them, we’ve been in missions before but she doesn’t. 

   - Spare me this.

   - She barely slept while you gone, James. God, are you so afraid she’ll stop loving you if you tell her about the Winter Soldier that you’d rather her live in constant anxiety every time you have to leave?

    - I won’t have to leave. 

Sharon scoffed, grabbing her jacket from the coat hanger.

    - Do you seriously believe that, James? 

    - Since when do you care about Y/N?

    - Stop being your worse enemy, James. She deserves to know.

God, she sure was awful now, Bucky thought to himself as Sharon left probably to return to Steve. The flat was intact, things were just as he had left them and everything was quiet except for the TV in the living room. Their bedroom door was slightly opened, probably so Sharon could keep an eye on Y/N. He took his shoes off so his steps wouldn’t alarm her and walked into the bedroom. She was there, in the bed, laying on her side, sleeping peacefully. Bucky walked up to her side of the bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead. 

She stirred in her sleep, eyes slowly opening as Bucky began to shush her, trying to make sure she went back to sleep. Last thing he had wanted was to awake her up.

    - Bucky? - she held herself onto one arm, the other hand coming to rub the sleep off her eyes. Once the blurriness dissipated and she confirmed it was indeed her Bucky, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, almost knocking him into the bed.

Bucky melted in her touch, burying his nose in her hair, sensing the scent of vanilla from her shampoo and the warmth of her skin. This was home, not Brooklyn but her. She was home, she felt like home. She pulled away from the hug for a bit to examine him, her fingers brushing the bruise on his cheekbone.

    - What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?

    - I’m fine. It’s just the bruise, Y/N. 

    - I’ll get some ice. - she prepared to get out of bed but he pushed her back on it. She felt onto his chest and he held her against him with one arm. What he did not expect was to see how uncomfortable she became at the inability to move. He was used to playing around with her, rolling around or having her on top of his chest. 

   - What’s wrong, princess?

   - Nothing ... - she shook her head. - I just missed you. I was afraid you were hurt or you were dead. 

   - I’m not hurt, I’m here. 

   - You’re staying, right? - she questioned, rolling to his side of the bed, laying on his side. - You’re not here just to visit.

   - Yeah, I’m staying, princess. - he caressed her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers. Sharon’s words, however, kept pulling at him. She loved him, he knew she loved him. Right? 

   - You’re making the face.

   - What face?

   - Your thinking face. - she cuddled against him, fingers softly pulling his chin down so he was looking at her. - What are you thinking about?

   - You love me, right? - he probably sounded insecure, he could hear himself sounding insecure, his voice cracking. She cocked her head to the side before raising her fingers to trace his jaw. 

   - Of course I do. You think I’d be marrying you if I didn’t love you?

   - I wanted to hurt them. - he blurted. - I wanted to torture them. Both of them.

   - Who?

   - Every time they send me to any of these assignments. Make amends ... I wanna hurt those people, I wanna hurt them like they hurt me and I hate it.

   - Buck ...

   - I’m ... I wanna be a good person, Y/N. I wanna be good. - he shut his eyes tightly. - And I’m not. 

   - It does not make you a bad person to want to hurt you hurt you, to want revenge. You do not act on it and that’s the difference. You’re not a bad person, Bucky. 

   - You’re the only person who thinks that. 

   - Doesn’t matter. - she smiled at him, softly kissing him. - I’m not expecting you just to move on and let it go. It’s part of your life and it’s part of you and I love you. All bad and all good, I love you. 

   - Maybe you need a better judgement. 

   - I have the best judgment between the both of us. I have no thrown myself off a plane without a parachute. 

   - That can’t be your way of winning arguments. 

   - It is my way of winning arguments. - she giggled at him. - Let’s just go to sleep. 

The night seemed short, way too short but it did not matter because both of them were there. It was calm, too calm until a harsh knock had both of them wake up from her slumber, the morning barely bright yet there was already some light. Y/N clung onto his arm as another harsh knock was delivered against his door. Bucky moved slowly to take his gun from under the bed before he walked out the bedroom, putting his gun behind his back as he opened the door. The police stood in front of him, quite a few of them. Way too many.

   - James Buchanan Barnes, you are under arrest for the alleged harassment and stalking of Miss Y/N Y/L/N.

taglist: @disasterbi​ @lookiamtrying​ @buckysteveloki-me​ @americasass81​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​ @lostinthebeans​ @mariahthelioness29​ @oh-nohoney​ @peaches-roses-sins​ @theadorasabditory​ @sipsteacasually​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @booktease21​ @noiralei​ @learisa​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​ @uglipotata72829​ @naturalthrone22​ @husherstan​ @mandiiblanche​ @vicmc624​ @newyorkgoddess​ @itsallyscorner​ @chipilerendi​ @emzd34 @writerwrites​ @bluevxnus​ @that-girl-named-alex​ @captnrogers​ @nsfwsebbie​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @niki-is-a-thing​ @cynic-spirit​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​

[gayhotpriests]

been here all along [fic]

Or; there are traces of Buck all over the Diaz household. 1.8 k

Read on ao3

The coffee maker beeps in the kitchen, the sound carrying all the way into the bedroom the second after Eddie turns off his alarm. A cool breeze comes in through the window Eddie left open last night by mistake, and in the couple steps it takes to go from the bed to the door, Eddie has picked up at least six different clothing items, not even all his, from the floor and the chair in the corner that soon gets tossed into the laundry basket. He stops briefly by Christopher’s room to make sure his son is awake (he’s not, and a cranky five more minutes is heard from under the covers) before going into the bathroom to start his own morning routine.

The bright, red firetruck print that greets him has never failed to make him smile, not once ever since one particular Thursday, maybe two years ago now, when Christopher and Buck spent a couple of hours in the mall looking for a birthday present for one of Chris’s friends but bought a very much not needed set of shower curtains instead, along with matching firetruck soap dispenser and cup. They even have little firefighters painted in the tiny plastic windows, and Christopher might be almost twelve now, but the day he gets tired of his Buck’s gift is yet to come.

A month into the school year, the Diaz family’s mornings have looked mostly the same every day, and this fine Monday proves not to be the exception, as Eddie finds out a few minutes later. A certain blond man is still asleep on Eddie’s couch, and instead of doing his workout, Christopher is sprawled on top of him, snoring lightly. Buck’s legs are twisted in an awkward angle to fit in the couch and one of his hands brushes the fluffy carpet beneath the sofa (the one he picked in an attempt to convince Eddie that his house needed personality), the other holding onto Chris, whose face is completely smushed against the other’s shoulder. Bright blue crutches that Chris has started to grow out of lay in a disorganized pile next to them.

(If Eddie’s heart beats a little bit faster- if his hands itch to hold them too and join the sleepy pile, well. They don’t need to know.)

“Alright, sleepy heads, school starts in an hour! Get up!”

-

Eddie owns a perfectly functional coffee maker, a classic machine with only one button and no special features, that makes his coffee the same way every day, and has done so for almost five years without signs of obsolescence. He’s a simple man with simple tastes, but Eddie’s perfect, simple coffee maker, is currently collecting dust inside a box in the attic.

A steaming cup of coffee, however, is waiting for him on the counter when he steps into the kitchen, complete with milk foam, a shot of caramel, and two sugars: the product of the stupidly expensive machine Buck and Chris had plotted to get him, with all the smart features and Starbucks level settings that Eddie did not need. Using the machine is extremely complicated, too, so once Eddie found out how to input the settings for his drink of choice, he stopped allowing anyone to mess with it. Eddie drinks the sweet concoction religiously every morning, without a fault.

He sips on his sugar bomb slowly as Buck cooks breakfast, eggs, and sausages with toast, fruit salad, and a cup of warm milk for the only kid in the house. The sound of the sizzling pan and the knife hitting the cutting board fills the room along with the smell of homemade breakfast, something that screams of home and family, uninterrupted until Christopher shows up fresh from the shower and in clean clothes, with his restless morning energy and promptly sets to chatting their ears off. Buck keeps the conversation alive and gets the boy to help with mixing the fruit salad while he recounts the last episode of their favorite cartoon they had seen together the previous night. Buck makes surprised sounds at the right times, throwing a few "No way! Tell me more!" for good measure, even though Eddie’s pretty sure he remembers the episode perfectly as he asks the right questions to launch Christopher off in another direction at least three times.

Eddie finishes his coffee, leaves the cup in the sink, and turns to the cupboard to start setting the table.

Three days before school started, Christopher told Eddie that he’s big enough to use big people knives and after a long phone call with his son’s Occupational Therapist, and another with his own therapist, they had gone to the store to get him a cutlery set that could allow him more independence while still on the safer side, and Buck had found the perfect one: the knife has a blunt tip and slightly serrated edge, and a round plastic handle decorated with tiny green and blue dinosaurs.

“Daddy, don’t forget the dinosaurs, please,” Christopher asks politely, just like every day, because he refuses to eat with any other fork or knife. Luckily the set came with six of each, so everyone can use them during breakfast as Christopher prefers.

“Yeah, and don’t forget the big spoon for the fruit salad,” Buck chips in, pointedly looking at Eddie. Clearly, he still hasn’t let go of the last few times he has forgotten the big spoon for the fruit salad. In less than five minutes, they’re seated around the table eating, Christopher’s feet kicking excitedly against Eddie’s when they congratulate him for the A he got in his latest science assignment.

Both his son and best friend clear their plates first, smiles on their faces accompanied by crinkled eyes as they laugh. Eddie has to scold Chris on talking with his mouth full only once- a new record, and Buck only twice, tapping him on the hand with the spoon, reminding him to lead by example and not be a terrible influence on the kid. Buck mumbles a sheepish sorry every time, ducking his head in embarrassment, and Eddie just rolls his eyes and shoots him a fond look. He watches them, joins the laughter when Buck teases him, or when Christopher tells a story from school, warmth filling him up from the inside out.

Soon enough, the time’s up and Christopher goes to brush his teeth and get ready to leave while Eddie and Buck load the dishwasher and wipe the countertops, barely any words exchanged as they move around the kitchen. Eddie checks the calendar by the fridge, next to Christopher’s old artwork and the polaroids held up by fruit magnets. PT at 11 am, Frank’s at 3 pm, reads in the bold block letters of Buck’s handwriting, under Eddie’s own scribble of C’s swimming lessons at 3.30 pm. Eddie makes a face at the overlapping schedule, chews on the inside of his cheek. He’s too late to ask Carla to take Christopher for him, as he gave her the week off a few days ago so she could go to DC for a certification. The last few therapy sessions had been at noon, but PT was pushed up to eleven and so his entire schedule was unexpectedly messed up, and Eddie will have to run from the clinic to Christopher’s school and then take him to the pool, but he’s not cleared to drive yet so he has to account for cab ride expenses and a whole new timeframe now, too. God, he should have gotten this figured out yesterday.

Back in El Paso, when Eddie had worked three jobs, he had once forgotten to pick Christopher up at school because his shift ran longer than usual, his phone died and the teachers were unable to reach him at the construction site. His parents had been called instead, being the second emergency contacts, and they had stared him down later at night while they told him all the reasons he was a bad dad and Christopher should live with them. Don’t drag him down with you, Eddie.

A hand lands on his healthy shoulder, right next to the base of his neck, and Eddie looks away from the calendar to meet a pair of bright blue eyes next to him. Buck watches him for a second before opening his mouth, careful.

“Hey, Eds, I noticed today looks a bit tight and I was thinking I could ask Bobby to let me out for an hour so I can go pick Chris up and drive him to his lessons, or maybe ask Maddie if I’m on a call,” he says, and the knots in his throat slowly start to dissolve, as he stares up to his friend’s calm face. His shoulders slowly start to relax, the injured one pulses with pain. The warmth of Buck's fingers makes the little hairs on his nape stand up as he swipes his thumb twice over the patch of uncovered skin in a comforting gesture.

“Yeah, thanks, man,” Eddie chokes out.

Buck smiles, and it’s all it takes. The fog lifts.

“Sure, I’ll text you in case I can’t make it so you can let the school know Mads is going to get him,” Buck continues, but he’s not touching Eddie anymore. Eddie takes a small step back, fidgets with the dishrag he still had in his hands as Buck starts to make his way to the living room, picking up his jacket, “you get to pick him up after, and already I left you guys some leftover stew for tonight's dinner in the fridge," Eddie keeps his eyes on Buck while he talks, takes a few steps closer to his friend, but not close enough. "I have a sixteen-hour today, so you tell Christopher goodnight for me, alright?”

“Of course,” his voice is too tight, and it must show because Buck bites his lip and reaches out his hand again, but doesn’t touch. At that moment Christopher burst back into the living room and yells out as if Buck isn’t right there to hear him.

“I’m ready, Buck!”

With a last smile, Buck turns to the door, putting on his shoes quickly and pulling his bag out of the hallway closet. Eddie leans down to place a smooch on his son’s cheek, which makes him laugh, and throw his head back with a loud “Bye, dad!” in his ear.

“Alright buddy, let’s go, let’s go!” Buck exclaims and Christopher bolts out the door, followed by his Buck, and Eddie stays at the threshold until he can’t see the Jeep past the corner of the street.

It’s barely eight o’clock and he still has chores to get done before PT, but Eddie just drops facefirst into the heap of blankets on top of the couch, drowning in the smell of his family and he aches for the picture he saw earlier that morning, sleep falling slowly over him like another blanket. A short nap is calling his name from the dream world, and the last thing he sees before going under is his pillbox for the pain meds next to a bottle of water, a pink post-it note stuck on the tag, big bold letters were carefully written on it. I know you forget but please take these before leaving home! xx. Buck.

Eddie falls.

[pillage-and-lute]

The Courting Ways of Wolves

This is Geralt struggling heavily with emotions. He’s a little dumb but he’s got the spirit. Fluff. Geraskier, platonic Yennalt and Yennskier with a healthy side order of Geralt’s brothers and Good Mom! Yennefer, who deserves all the nice things.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue

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

After the mountain, and finding Ciri, and tracking down Jaskier and Yennefer both, and dragging them up to Kaer Morhen, Geralt had looked forward to a nice, relaxing winter. His brothers and Vesemir would train Ciri, Yennefer, with whom he had come to an entirely platonic understanding, would recover from Sodden, and he had Jaskier back.

His apology had been poor, and he knew it, but Geralt had rescued him from the clutches of Nilfgaard and had bought him new lute strings and a notebook to boot. 

The strains of Her Sweet Kiss drifted through Kaer Morhen regularly, because his whole family, and yes, Ciri and Yennefer included, kept requesting that damn song. He hated it, Jaskier’s voice broke singing it and his scent was still sad, although less so than it had been the first few times Geralt had heard it.

Amazingly, the sadness had disappeared for the most part after one time, when Jaskier played the song after dinner, Yennefer had looked up from her book and said, cool as an icicle,

“For Melitele’s sake you melodramatic bastard, I’m not dating Geralt and I never want to again.” 

And now everyone seemed to want to hear it. Kaer Morhen’s training had not included music or poetry comprehension, so he was unsure why everyone kept looking at him oddly whenever the song was played. As far as he could tell, it was just another tragic love song. When Ciri started requesting Her Sweet Kiss after supper, and eyeing him while it played, he gave in. He cornered Eskel, the most book smart of the wolves beside Vesemir, who he suspected would be just a bit too acerbic, and asked him what was up. 

“He’s in love with you.”

“He’s not.”

“You’re an idiot,” Eskel said. “And a stubborn one to boot. He didn’t like Yennefer when you two were sleeping together, but they’re the friends now, right?”

“They’re not,” Geralt said, brow wrinkling. This was treading much too far into the realm of human emotions, which Geralt had never been good at, but they snarked at each other all the time still and bickered like children. Eskel rolled his eyes. 

“They are, its just sparring, but with words not swords. You see?” 

That made sense, words were Jaskier’s weapon, and Yennefer’s too, to some extent, and they did both seem to revel in creative insults.

“They’re friends,” Eskel said. “Now that Jaskier isn’t jealous anymore. Do you see where I’m going with this?” He could apparently tell from Geralt’s expression that, no, he did not know where Eskel was going with this. 

“Her Sweet Kiss is about Yennefer, who Jaskier thinks you love, and it’s about you, who Jaskier loves, and it’s about him, when he says ‘I’ as in “I am weak, my love’. My love is you, do you understand?”

It was dawning slowly in Geralt’s mind that he had definitely missed this, rather spectacularly, because now it was very, very obvious. He was glad he hadn’t gone to Vesemir, who would probably have given him a cuff ‘round the ear for being stupid, and it would have been deserved. 

Eskel, always so much better at reading emotions said, “Ah, you’ve got it, good. Now, what are you going to do about it.”

“I don’t know.” 

Eskel rolled his eyes so hard that Geralt hoped he detached a retina. “Of course you don’t.” His voice softened. Eskel had always been the one Geralt turned to for emotions. He knew Geralt didn’t get them, but wanted to understand and tried so hard that it hurt. Apart from a fair amount of good-natured ribbing, he always helped Geralt with the trickier bits of the human (or mutant) heart.

“Let’s start small, do you love the bard?”

That wasn’t small. That was a very, very big question, but Eskel had settled back in his chair and looked prepared to wait for Geralt to figure out the answer.

Did he love the bard? Geralt didn’t have anything to compare it to except Eskel and Lambert, and it certainly wasn’t like that. Except sometimes it was, like Eskel, Jaskier helped Geralt with reading when his head flipped the letters all around. Like Lambert, Jaskier fought anyone who insulted Geralt. But those were the actions of someone who loved Geralt, that was how Geralt could know (or could have known, if he’d been paying better attention) that Jaskier loved him. But how to know if Geralt loved Jaskier, not as a friend, but like a ballad, like the ‘my love’ in the song. But Geralt did love Jaskier like a ballad, because the songs always compared some lady to a bunch of other things. Geralt did that. He saw bright silks in a market and thought of Jaskier, if there were buttercups on the side of the road he thought of Jaskier, he heard a lute and thought of Jaskier, washed his hair and thought of Jaskier. Everything in his life made him think of Jaskier. 

And it wasn’t like seeing a goat headbut a farmer and thinking of Eskel and his goat from hell. It was also not the same as using a bomb and thinking of Lambert. Those were everyday things, as commonplace as thinking of Vesemir’s training. 

“I love him.”

“Yes,” Eskel said, “You really, really do. Now you just have to court him.” He sat back as if satisfied with a job well done. 

“Right, and how do I do that?” 

Eskel looked stumped. “I don’t know,” he said. Courting wasn’t part of the Kaer Morhen curriculum. 

“Do we ask Lambert?” Geralt asked, feeling a little panicky because now that he realized he loved the bard he wasn’t about to not court him.

“Of course not, he’s the least romantic bastard in existence,” Eskel said, rubbing a thumb over the scarred part of his lip.

“Not true, he reads romance novels,” Geralt said, proud to introduce this new and frankly hilarious bit of information.

“No.” Eskel’s eyes were wide.

“I found it in his pack last week, when I was looking for a sharpening stone, it had a picture of a lady in a torn dress and a shirtless man almost kissing, and the title said Tortured Hearts.”

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m not,” Geralt said huffily, “I read a bit of a page too and it mentioned a lot of throbbing.”

Eskel cackled and, over come with mirth, fell from his chair. That set off Geralt and they both howled with laughter, wiping a few stray tears from their eyes when they heard the door creak open. 

It was Lambert.

That set Eskel off again, which made Geralt laugh too, and Lambert just stared at them. 

“Did you two get into the vodka again?”

“No,” Eskel said, righting himself in his chair, “We were just discussing your reading habits.”

Lambert turned pale, then pink, then pursed his lips and turned up his nose haughtily. “Shows what you two know about literature. It’s a fine way to pass the time.” His cheeks were still a bit pink.

“All jokes aside,” Geralt said, when he’d stopped snorting, “I need to know how to court the bard.”

“Ah, finally pulled your head from your arse then?”

“It was me that did the pulling,” Eskel said. Lambert sprawled onto the couch next to Geralt. 

“Of course you did,” he said. “What you gotta do,” he paused. “No that’ll never work.” Geralt scowled at him.

“No really,” Lambert said, “It’d never work.”

“Try me.”

“Lambert, c’mon, we’re really stumped,” said Eskel.

“Well...”

“Yes?” said Geralt, leaning towards him a little. 

“In the books the man always writes her a poem, to proclaim his love, you know? Or failing that he writes her a letter, all curly writing, maybe some pressed flowers.”

“Oh,” said Geralt.

“Oh,” said Eskel. “Yeah you’re right that’s really not gonna work.”

“Jaskier’s all courtly,” Geralt said. “So I should do it, you know, courtly.”

“Ciri’s royalty,” Lambert said. “She might know, and Yennefer spends a bunch of time with nobles. They could help.”

“You said his family’s kind of old fashioned,” said Eskel. “Vesemir’s really old too, so he can help.

And that was how everyone in Kaer Morhen, except Jaskier, who had been distracted by Vesemir showing him a room with a nice echo, met in the library to begin plan Court the Bard. Eskel was scribbling ideas onto a sheet of parchment. 

“You should kiss his hand,” Ciri said. “And say please and thank you.” She thought of her grandparents. “And tell him how beautiful he looks when he’s covered in blood.”

“Kill things for him,” Lambert chipped in. “Show’s him how big and strong you are, makes him feel safe.” A few curious eyes turned to him. He shifted uncomfortably. “One of the books was about a hunter and and a dairy maid. He killed a bear for her.”

“Always ask before you hold his hand or kiss him,” Vesemir said, seemingly unfazed by Lamberts reading habits. No reason he should be, Geralt thought, we all know he has a stack of romance novels by his bed. “Take it slow, Geralt, be patient, and put in the work, he was patient for twenty years, repay it now.”

Yennefer spoke up. “You don’t have to stop being sarcastic with him, he likes it, but compliment him too. Tell him how much you like his music. He likes music, so you like music because it makes him happy, understood?”

Geralt nodded.

“Good,” she said. “And dance with him. He’d like that. Also get him flowers.”

“Not just flowers, get him stuff,” Eskel said.

“I bought him lute strings and a notebook,” Geralt said.

Ciri wrinkled her nose. “Yeah but those were apology gifts, these are courting gifts.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Not much,” Yennefer said, “Lute strings and notebooks are good because they’re useful and they show that you know what he needs, but courting gifts should also be more...” she waved a hand vaguely, purple sparks twirling about her fingers.

“Romantic,” Eskel said.

“Pretty,” Ciri said firmly.

“They should be able to show you can provide for him,” Vesemir cut in.

At the end the list was short and confusing, but at least they had a plan. In the spring Ciri would go learn about magic with Yennefer, and Geralt’s heart swelled at the way they both glowed with excitement at the prospect. Geralt would then be back on the path alone with Jaskier and he could court him. 

The list said, in Eskel’s simple, neat hand, Number One, kiss his hand. Number Two, use manners. Number Three, compliment him (his music, his features, how he looks after a battle?) Number Four, kill things and bring them to him. Number Five, bring him gifts that aren’t dead things. There was an asterisk by number five and it said, gifts should be useful, romantic, pretty, and provide for him.

It wasn’t much, but it was a plan. 

That night at dinner Jaskier wondered why everyone kept looking at him and Geralt. He figured he had stew on his face, there was some in Geralt’s hair. Geralt wondered why Jaskier kept swiping his face with a napkin and why Ciri kept pointedly running fingers through her hair. 

He couldn’t figure out all of human emotions, but he was going to defeat courting, once and for all.

[enjeolmii]

seeking you - l.hs

genre: angst, a pinch of fluff

word count: 1.3k

warnings: indirect mentions of suicide, a very, very, very short peck on the lips

a/n: this is a repost from my old acc coz it was obstructed... but if you’ve read this before, you are very welcome to read it again 😁 tysmm 💗💖

"I'm back, y/n."

Heeseung shouts from across the house with the sound of a plastic bag shuffling in his hand. He's seen you working very hard to accomplish your assignments all day, and he thought that picking up food from your favourite place would help ease your stress.

But when he had set his foot past your bedroom door, he stumbles upon your figure, hunched over the desk and your head dug into your arms. Your laptop is playing a one-hour documentary going on about Ancient Greece, and each side of your earphones was tucked into your ears. His eyes soften at the sight of you. You've told him how much school has been a tad more overwhelming now that everything had to be done on the screen. Your eyes never had a chance to take a break ever since after Christmas break because while your teachers told you countless times to rest over the weekends, you weren't dumb enough to know that these assignments are going to finish themselves.

Heeseung sighs an empathetic smile and approaches you. He places the bag of chicken by your desk before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

"Bub," He patted your head lightly. "Get up a minute. I got your beloved chicken here. Let's take a break and eat, hm?"

Thinking you were asleep, he kept tapping at your head. His finger brushed along the strands of your hair, and you subtly flinch at his actions. "Come on, bub. Wake up."

"Heeseung," You weakly croaked out through your arms. The male immediately knew that something was wrong. You always called him by the nickname you two bestowed each other, and on odd occasions that you don't, Heeseung instantly knows how serious things must be.

"Y/n..."

You rise from your position and leaned back on your desk chair, hair covering your expression as you hide from your boyfriend's stare. "I don't think I can... I can't do this anymore."

A tear drops from your face to your h̶i̶s̶ grey hoodie. Heeseung didn't fail to notice this.

College was rough for him as well. He's been where you are now; he knows how it feels like to be so outdone by all these tasks. Except he had no one. You didn't understand, but you were an angel who came to save him that fateful night.

He was walking recklessly across all the busy highways in the area in an attempt to maybe do something any human would perceive crazy. He had left his piled-up works back at home and decided to take a break from the stuffy air of his room. He was feeling lost. He often wanted to give up on school, and this might be the first and last time he decided to take it on another level.

However, he arrived at a halt when you appeared in front of him with an expression he wished he had. You looked so happy and unbothered; it took every ounce of strength he had in him not to get annoyed and snap out on a stranger. But those sweet letters that left your mouth so exquisitely was all it took to make him feel a need to hear you more.

"What's a man like you doing walking in the middle of the streets crying, hm? Do you know how precious you are to be walking alone on the busy highways? I don't know who you are, but jeez, don't go losing your life here. That's just a losing game for the weak. Also, it'd be quite a loss not to see you around again, don't you think?"

You were such a bright person then; he was sure he'd be nothing now if you didn't come to stop him. And all he wanted to do was to do the same for you—all to keep that contagious little smile on your face.

His smiley eyes drifted into melancholic blobs of blue at your words. He didn't want to see you crying, not even sad. You are the only source of the sun he has left in his life, and he sure didn't want to see you lose your colour.

He slipped his hand in between the chair and your back before engulfing your body in his hold. "It's okay. I'm here. Tell me all about it." He reassured you.

Your weeping only grew louder with every second he consoled you. How lucky must you be to have met a guy you could relate to so much in the middle of the streets so easily? Although problematic, you two still managed to work things out together and held tightly to each other at times when unexpected hardships arise. He was always there to protect you from your troubles ever since you called it official with him; it just makes you feel uneasy that you couldn't do the same for him through college.

It didn't take you much longer to realise that the cotton on his right shoulder had been soaked well with your tears. And you try to make them stop with a sniffle from your stuffed nose.

"No," You shake your head against his shoulder. "You didn't do it like this, too, right?"

He questioned your statement with a hum.

"You kept all your troubles to yourself. It bothers me that you didn't give me a chance to protect you like you always do for me. It's unfair, you know?"

Heeseung chuckles at you. "No, it's not," He pulls you out of his arms to cup your face that's stained with tears. "You've done more than enough in protecting me, bub."

Your brows furrow.

"Remember the first time we met? You appeared in front of me so suddenly while I was in the middle of trying to take my life."

With every word that he enunciated past his mouth, the feeling of astonishment bubbled up in you. You were only joking when you told him not to lose his life on the highways because he looked so uncertain every time you saw him try to cross the roads from behind the glass cafe wall. But now that you know, you couldn't help but feel absorbed in the way you two just seemed to be meant for each other.

"Now that I realised how stupid of an act that was, I'm so thankful to have bumped into you that night. And don't say it's unfair because you've done so much more for me than you can imagine," He drags his thumbs to wipe the tears off your cheeks. "Someone told me that keeping your problems to yourself is a losing game for the weak, so don't cry alone and tell me everything about your problems, okay?"

You giggle at the pout he gave you throughout his lecture, and you felt like he was the only thing you needed in this world to keep you alive. As you bounce your head up and down to his request, you swiftly lean in to peck at his pout. You didn't know what you were thinking, but all you could say was that it felt right. It made you feel a lot better, knowing that he's always got your back at times like this.

An awkward silence loomed between the pair of you. All while Heeseung tries to process in his mind what you just did, his eyes grew wide from the stunt you riskily pulled off.

"Y..your shoulder's wet now." You try changing the topic in an attempt to eliminate the awkwardness, but your efforts only seem to fail when your boyfriend looked back at you with eager eyes.

"Do that again."

"H-huh?"

"Kiss me again."

"Uhm... The chicken! My chicken..." You pull your head away from his grip and hastily rummaged through the box inside the plastic, immediately putting a drumstick to your mouth while Heeseung laughed at your panicking structure.

[vnderoos]

what could've been ✷ fred weasley

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language word count / 2.1k

masterlist in bio ↴

IT WAS THE FIRST TIME IN months that Y/N had mustered up enough courage to visit Molly and Arthur at the Burrow, after the battle and all. It was the first time she'd even been able to think about stepping foot in the place when everything in it reminded her of the man she'd lost that day. She'd spent the whole day with his parents, after Molly had spent so much time begging for her to visit, but for some reason, Y/N couldn't bring herself to leave when the time came.

Being in the home had placed yet another crushing weight on her chest, but something about it was exactly what she needed, so Molly had offered up one of the children's old rooms, even though they were far from children now, due to age and experience alike. Y/N had thanked her for that, but something about going up the stairs seemed very, very wrong to her, and she decided to take the couch instead. The redheaded woman had made sure she was comfortable, with a nice, fluffy pillow for her head and a thick quilt to keep her warm, and she'd turned in for the night herself.

This had all happened hours ago, before Y/N had fallen asleep and woken up from a bad dream all the same. She couldn't say that she was surprised as she laid in the darkness of the living room, fidgeting with the ring on her left hand, that Fred Weasley still occupied her thoughts—definitely not when she was sitting in his childhood home—but she couldn't deny the way that it made her ache. Sometimes, when she woke up like this, she hoped that everything had all been a dream, but when she reached up to touch her cheek, to touch the scar that had been left as a reminder of a time she wished she could forget, she knew it had been anything but.

This night, though, seemed infinitely more painful without him.

The Burrow used to be a place of comfort, a safe haven of sorts. She had memories of countless summers spent there, playing under the beating sun with the Weasley kids and Harry Potter, and how full it had felt with all of them around, but after Fred's passing, after they'd all moved on with their lives and left the nest, it felt so empty. No longer was it noisy with the laughter that used to filter through them all or bright with shared smiles or zipping with fireworks set off by the twins.

Instead, it was hollow with the shells of their rooms—of his room—and void of belly laughs. It felt as tilted as it looked on the outside, like it was barely holding itself together anymore. It was empty hallways covered in shadows and quiet walls filled with moving pictures that made you want to stare at your feet.

It was less of a shelter now, and more of a memorial.

Y/N stared up at the ceiling, her right hand still on the engagement ring they'd found in his pocket, and she ran her thumb over the diamond. She could feel tears prickling in the spaces behind her eyes when she flipped her hand over and her eyes flickered to her finger, watching the only words he'd left behind for her light up like soft, orange embers. Forever yours — Fred. She watched the letters fade away in a matter of seconds, before she swiped her thumb over the diamond again. She did that a couple more times, before she couldn't bare it anymore, and she swallowed thickly to get rid of that familiar knot in her throat.

She pushed the quilt off of her body, finding it rather suffocating, now, and she sat up on the couch. She brought her knees over the edge and tugged her hands through her hair, and as she felt the cold band of her ring brushing against her forehead, she realized she'd forgotten what he smelled like. "Oh, God," she whispered into her wrists and the tears—fuck, they stung. The whole realization stung, in fact, and it felt like something had sucked the wind out of her lungs, because she couldn't remember.

If six months was all it took for her to forget the smell of maple syrup, fireworks, and a warm, summer evening, then she didn't want to know how long it would take to forget the sound of his laugh, or the shape of his nose, or the way it felt when she tucked herself into his arms after a long day.

She couldn't take it.

She couldn't sit there and let herself forget him when there was half a room dedicated to nobody but him, so she found it in herself to stand up, and make her way to the staircase. It seemed almost haunting, staring back at her as she looked at it, and it took her almost three minutes to take the first step. The railing was cold against the warmth of her palm and it sent a shiver running down her spine, but she shook it away.

Y/N pushed all her doubts to the back of her mind and she walked up the staircase, making her way to the door of the bedroom that he used to share with George. She put her hand on the doorknob and ripped it open like you'd rip off a bandage and she nearly crumbled. The smell of old parchment, broom polish, and stale gunpowder, along with what she'd recalled earlier, hit her like a ton of bricks and her knees buckled.

She took a step into the room and it felt like the walls were closing in on her, like her chest was caving in on her, but she made her way over to one of the two beds, the one that he used to sleep in, and she ran her fingers over the red quilt. It was cold to the touch, after months of sitting dormant, and she clenched her fingers into a fist. She remembered the nights where she'd be wrapped up in that very quilt, with Fred cuddled into her side, after she'd walked in after a nightmare, and he'd told her he'd keep her safe.

And he always did.

As her fingers brushed over the quilt, they ran over something else, something softer. She picked it up gently and leaned over towards the bedside table. She slipped her free hand under the lampshade and she turned on the light, washing the room in a soft yellow, and when she looked down at her hands, her breath caught in her throat. Christmas was only a month away, but in her fingertips, there was a sweater. It was a deep red and there was a golden 'F' stitched on the chest and she could feel her heart sink in realization.

Molly had still knitted him a sweater this year.

Y/N brought the fabric to her nose and she took a whiff, shutting her eyes tightly when the tears started to well up. She wasn't sure how long it had sat in the room, but it smelled just like him, all the same. She could feel that knot forming in her throat again and she decided to throw the sweater on over her own shirt, pulling the sleeves around her hands and hugging her arms to her body. Maybe, if she closed her eyes tight enough, it would feel like he was the one doing the hugging. She squeezed her eyes so tight, she could see starts, but even then, she couldn't change the fact that he wasn't. He wasn't hugging her and he never would be, not anymore.

Fred would never be there to wrap an arm around her in the mornings and pull her into his side while he held a cup of coffee in his other hand. He would never be there to scoop her up off of the ground after a good day at the shop and tell her how much he loved her. He would never be there to give her a bear hug when she wasn't feeling well. He would never be there at all, and the more she thought about it, the harder the tears started to fall, and she could feel her first vocal sob sputtering from her lips.

She didn't stop it, like she had when she was downstairs, but instead, she laid down on his bed and turned her back against the lamp, curling up into a ball and letting her cries get the best of her. She couldn't help but wonder what he would've done if he'd seen her like that, but she could only imagine. She remembered how after particularly bad nightmares he would hold her so tightly in the darkness, thread his long fingers through her hair, and tell her that everything was going to be just fine. She remembered how he would talk about other things to take her mind off of it and how, when he thought she'd fallen asleep, he'd start to tell her that he was going to marry her one day. He would talk about having a large family together, like his own, except with how well the joke shop was doing, they'd be able to spoil the kids. He would talk about having a nice, cozy home like the Burrow and a big yard where he could teach the kids how to play quidditch, and she couldn't stop sobbing now. She was so overtaken by the fact that she'd never get to have that with him, that she couldn't even breathe.

"Y/N, is that—" she'd barely even heard the door creak open as Molly walked in, and the woman stopped in her tracks when she did. The sight of seeing Y/N, who she'd looked after like her own all these years, in such a weak state was enough to make her own eyes water, and she brought a hand to her chest. "Oh, darling," she whispered, because her voice refused to go any higher, and she made her way over to the bed. She sat down beside the girl, whose body shook with every cry, and Y/N moved to hug her almost immediately. Molly didn't think she'd ever felt the girl hug her as hard as she did now, feeling her bury her face into her chest, and she wrapped her arms around her just as tightly. "I've got you, dear," she muttered sadly, and she laid back against the wall, a tear slipping down her own cheek.

Y/N's fists were balled up around the fabric of Molly's shirt and her eyes were squeezed shut as she sobbed. "I'm sorry," she whispered against the woman's chest. "I'm so, so sorry, Molly," she repeated, and she could feel herself breaking into pieces. Everything she'd tried to be since Fred died just came unraveling.

"No, dear," Molly whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss into it softly, and resting her chin on her head. "Don't be sorry, we all miss him. It's okay," she promised, giving her a good squeeze.

Y/N shook her head against her. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him," she elaborated, the moment flashing through her head like it had happened the day before—the smile that had been on his face, before it wasn't. "I should've stayed with him."

"Don't talk like that, darling." Molly leaned down to grab a fuzzy blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed and she pulled it over herself and Y/N gently. "It wasn't your fault in the slightest," she reassured her and Y/N nodded, another son wracking her body, and Molly's eyebrows furrowed with concern.

"We would've gotten married," she said, acutely aware of the ring on her finger, and it was in that moment that Y/N absolutely shattered. Her hands tightened around Molly's shirt and she let out a strangled scream, feeling the woman tug her impossibly closer. "He was supposed to be the rest of my life, and without him, I'm nothing," she admitted, her lip quivering as she did.

Molly brushed her fingers through Y/N's hair softly, just like Fred used to, and she pressed her forehead against the girl's head. "You are still everything to me. To us," she promised on behalf of the rest of the Weasleys, and she smushed her cheek against her head. "We love you so much, sweet girl."

At that, Y/N just nodded and she continued to cry into Molly until she fell asleep.

In the morning, when the sun filtered through the window of the twins' old room, the woman was gone, and there was a plate of warm biscuits sitting in her place. The fact that Y/N was still in the room was the only indication that the last night had even happened at all.